I Crossed the Entire City to Lose Myself in a Dark Park

I drove for forty minutes without turning on the radio. The silence inside the car was the only thing holding me together. If I put on music, if I let any outside stimulus in, I knew I’d lose my nerve or — worse — admit what I was really doing.

My name is Lucía. I’m thirty-nine years old, I have a spacious apartment in a gated community in the north of the city, a husband who talks to me as if I were his business partner, and a closet full of clothes I no longer take off in front of anyone. That night I was wearing a dark silk blouse I’d bought on impulse in a shop downtown. Deep neckline, delicate buttons. It wasn’t clothes for going anywhere. It was clothes for feeling like something.

The GPS showed eighteen minutes to the Los Rosales neighborhood. I had already looked it up on the map before, three or four times, always in the middle of the night, always after finishing masturbating without managing to get anything that left me satisfied.

I’m just going to look. That’s all. I’ll go by, take a look, and come back.

I kept repeating that to myself ever since I started the car. I repeated it with the discipline of someone who knows she’s lying but needs the lie so she won’t collapse.

***

The neighborhood began to change when I left the lit roundabouts and the glass buildings behind. The blocks turned gray, the shop shutters were pulled down, and the streetlights gave only half-light. There were men on the corners, in groups of three or four, sitting on benches or leaning against walls. Voices in languages I didn’t understand. Distant laughter. The sound of a phone playing music at low volume.

I parked on a side street, near the entrance to the big park. I turned off the engine and the silence hit me like a punch. Suddenly everything was real. The steering wheel, my hands gripping it hard, the wedding ring faintly shining under the half-broken streetlamp.

I rolled down the window without thinking. Night air came in, thick with the smell of damp earth and distant food.

Why did I roll down the window? I have air conditioning. What am I doing?

But I already knew. I’d rolled it down because I wanted the outside to come in. To be seen. To have the air of the neighborhood touch me first.

The blouse stuck to my skin with nervous sweat. The neckline showed more than was necessary. Underneath I was wearing only a thin thong and a skirt that rode up when I sat down. It wasn’t an accident. Nothing about that night was an accident.

***

I saw them pass about ten meters from the car. Three young men walking slowly. One of them turned his head and looked straight at me. His eyes stopped on the open window, on me, on the neckline shining in the dim light.

I didn’t look away. I couldn’t.

I stayed still, breathing hard, my hands trembling on the wheel. I felt the heat rising from my belly, my pulse beating between my legs.

The man said something to his friends in a low voice. The three of them slowed their pace. And he peeled away from the group and started walking toward my car.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with brown skin and a neatly trimmed short beard. He was wearing a tight dark T-shirt and clean jeans. He didn’t look like a dangerous stranger. He looked like someone who had seen something interesting and wanted to check it out.

I tried to raise the window. I pressed the button once, twice, three times. The car was off. The power windows didn’t respond.

—Shit —I whispered through clenched teeth.

He reached the window and leaned in, resting one hand on the roof of the car. He smelled like fresh cologne. His presence filled the space.

—Are you lost? —he asked, with a marked accent and a deep voice, calmer than I’d expected.

—N-no… I was just… resting for a moment.

He raised an eyebrow. Smiled. His eyes openly dropped to my neckline.

—Resting? You don’t come here to rest in a car like this. And dressed like that.

He looked at my blouse and then straight into my eyes.

—Your hands are shaking —he noted in a lower voice.

It was true. They were shaking so badly I pressed them against my thighs to control it.

—What’s your name?

My mind was screaming at me to start the car, to roll up the glass, to leave. But my body wouldn’t obey. I could feel a hot wetness between my legs and, at the same time, a brutal shame.

—Lucía —I answered almost under my breath.

He savored my name, repeating it softly. Then he asked me directly:

—Did you come looking for something, or just to look?

I didn’t answer. I only breathed with my mouth slightly open. He waited a few seconds and said calmly:

—If you don’t say anything, I’m going to think you want me to stay.

I stayed absolutely silent. I lowered my eyes to my own hands in my lap. That gesture of surrender was enough.

***

He reached through the window and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. I shivered but didn’t pull away. The caress was gentle at first, almost tender. Then his hand slid down my neck to the neckline of the blouse. He slipped his hand inside and took hold of one breast with his full palm, squeezing firmly. I let out a muffled gasp but said nothing.

He handled me with more confidence: kneaded my breast, pinched the hardened nipple, stretched it between his fingers. With his other hand he went straight down between my legs, under the skirt. His fingers brushed my soaked thong and pressed against my swollen sex.

I watched. I watched fixedly as his brown hand disappeared under my skirt, the other one shamelessly groping my breast. I didn’t say a word. I only breathed in short bursts while he explored my wetness without asking permission.

—You’re soaked —he murmured, pleased—. Good girl.

He pulled his hand out shiny with my fluids, looked at it for a second, and wiped it on my skirt.

—Get out of the car. Now.

His tone was firm but strangely gentle, as if he were speaking to something fragile he still didn’t want to break. I hesitated for a second. Then, as if in a trance, I opened the door and got out. My legs were trembling so badly I had to lean on the car. He took me by the arm and shut the door.

—Come.

***

He led me on foot through the park in silence. I walked with my head slightly lowered, the blouse half-open, my nipples visible beneath the wet silk. We crossed a patch of grass to a corner where the streetlights barely reached.

There were two other men waiting there on a stone bench. When they saw me arrive, they got up slowly.

The three of them surrounded me.

The one who had brought me stood behind me. Another, thinner and with a longer beard, to my left. The third, younger and muscular, stayed in front, looking me up and down.

I was in the center. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. My hands were glued to my sides, my eyes lowered, my breathing ragged. I said nothing.

The first man leaned over my ear:

—If you want us to stop, just say it.

He paused.

—But if you don’t say anything, we’re going to use you.

I stayed completely silent.

He smiled behind me. His hands yanked open the remaining buttons of my blouse with a gentle pull. The silk parted, leaving my breasts bare in the darkness of the park. The other two moved closer. One lifted my skirt to my waist. The other crouched and ran his fingers over my soaked thong, pressing against my swollen clit.

I still didn’t speak. I only breathed. I only felt those unfamiliar hands beginning to touch me, squeeze me, and explore me in the dark.

The first one pinched both my nipples hard and whispered in my ear:

—You’re going to be a good bitch tonight, right?

I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes and let out a muffled moan while three pairs of hands used me without hurry.

***

They sat me down on the stone bench. My blouse was already completely open, my breasts exposed to the night air. They hiked up my skirt and yanked off my thong in one pull.

The first one sat in front of me, lowered his pants, and pulled out his cock. It was thick and long, bigger than my husband’s, bigger than anything I had seen up close.

—Suck it —he ordered.

Trembling, I leaned in and opened my mouth. I had barely started when he grabbed my hair and shoved my face down, forcing it into my throat. I gagged hard, tears filling my eyes.

While I sucked him, the other two put their cocks in my hands. Now I had three surrounding me: one in my mouth and two in my hands.

This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. There are three of them. They’re stronger than me. I can’t stop this.

But deep down I knew I wouldn’t leave.

He fucked my mouth mercilessly, shoving all the way in and keeping me there for several seconds.

—Look at this fine lady —he mocked—. She comes dressed in designer clothes and turns out she sucks dick for free. Does your husband know you’re here on your knees?

The other two laughed.

—Of course he doesn’t know. She comes here alone to get wrecked. What a shame.

Every word burned me. The humiliation was unbearable. But my body betrayed me: the more they mocked me, the wetter I got. My sex throbbed hard.

The youngest one came over and fingered me. With just a few precise motions, a quick, shameful orgasm shot through me. My legs shook violently and I let out a muffled moan around the cock in my mouth. I came just from the humiliation, the cocks in my hands, and his in my throat.

They noticed immediately.

—She’s already come! —the first one exclaimed without taking it out of my mouth—. She comes just from being told she’s a slut. What a shame you are.

—She’s so easy —the young one added—. We humiliate her a little and she comes like a bitch in heat.

My face was burning. I knew it was true.

***

They forced me to my feet, turned me around, and bent me sharply over the bench, ass in the air and face against the cold stone. My skirt was rolled up at my waist, the open blouse hanging at my sides. I was completely exposed.

The first one positioned himself behind me and, without warning, shoved his thick cock into my sex in one single thrust. I let out a muffled moan. He opened me much wider than my husband ever had.

—Your husband must have a tiny one —he growled as he started fucking me with hard, deep thrusts—. Now this really fills you, doesn’t it?

I ground my teeth against the stone. Despite the fear, my body betrayed me. Every deep thrust made my clit rub against the bench and the humiliation flooded me like a hot wave.

The thin one stood in front of my face, grabbed my hair, and shoved his cock all the way down my throat.

—Suck it while they fuck you. Don’t stop.

The third one knelt at my side and started preparing me from behind. He put in two fingers, then three, opening me carelessly.

—This is going to get filled tonight too —he said, laughing.

The first one pulled his dripping cock out and pressed it against my ass. He pushed. I opened my eyes wide and tensed my whole body when the thick head entered.

—It hurts —I moaned, unable to keep quiet.

—Shut up and take it —he answered, slowly pushing until he was almost all the way in—. Look at her swallowing it back there. What a shame you are.

Now two of them were penetrating me at once: one from behind with hard thrusts, the other in my mouth down to my throat. The third shoved his fingers into my sex and started moving them furiously while rubbing my clit with his other hand.

More men passed by on the park path. They stopped to watch.

—Look at that! —one of them said, laughing—. A high-class lady on all fours in the park.

—See how she lets them? Dressed in expensive clothes and here letting them tear her apart. Her husband must have her in a luxury apartment and she comes here to be used.

Another took out his phone and started recording.

—Smile, slut.

Every word was like a lash straight between my legs. A brutal orgasm began to rise. I tried to deny it to myself but I couldn’t. The shame, fear, and humiliation were pushing me to the limit.

The first one realized and sped up.

—Look! She’s coming again! —he shouted, laughing—. She comes just from being humiliated. What an easy slut.

I trembled violently, my face crushed, one cock in my mouth, another behind me, tears rolling down my cheeks. The orgasm tore through me with a force I had never felt before. My ass tightened around the thick cock. It was the best orgasm of my life, and that terrified me.

***

They made me kneel, and the three of them finished. The first one grabbed my hair, pulled out of my ass, and came inside me from behind in thick, hot jets.

—Take all the cum —he growled with pride—. Good, thick cum for your ass.

The thin one pulled out of my mouth and came abundantly over my face and into my open mouth.

—Open wide. Swallow it. This isn’t the weak milk your husband gives you.

The third one jerked off quickly in front of my breasts and came hard over them, leaving thick strands that ran down my nipples and blouse.

The three of them stepped back a little to admire their work. I was ruined: on my knees, ass dripping, face and mouth smeared, breasts covered.

The first one took out his phone and photographed me from every angle. My face. My breasts. My spread ass. A close-up of my wedding ring while my hand rested on the ground.

Then he crouched down, grabbed my face hard, and unlocked my phone, holding it in front of me.

—Now give me your home address. If you don’t, these photos go straight to your husband.

Terror-stricken, I gave them the exact address of my villa in the gated community.

—Good. Now we know where you live. When we call you, you’re going to come running. If you don’t, everyone’s going to see how the fine lady lets herself get filled like a bitch.

The first one gave my ass a hard slap and said, laughing:

—Go home and clean yourself up. But you know, you’re coming back soon.

The three of them walked away at an easy pace, talking among themselves as if nothing had happened.

***

I was left alone in the darkness of the park.

I sat down slowly on the bench, my legs trembling. I had a faraway look. I wasn’t crying, but my eyes were glassy. I ran one hand over my face and felt the sticky wetness on my fingers. I looked at my hand for a second and let it fall.

What have I done? This can’t be happening. I have to get out of here. My car, where did I leave the car? If anyone sees me like this… My husband, the stores, everything… Why can’t I get up? It’s still throbbing down there. No, don’t think about that now.

I stayed seated for several minutes, stunned, breathing irregularly. I could still feel the hot semen inside me, slowly running down my thighs. The smell of sex filled my nose. Every time I moved, I felt it leaking more.

I tried to button my blouse with clumsy hands, but the buttons wouldn’t go through. The fabric was damp and sticky. I pulled my skirt down as best I could, though it was still wrinkled and stained.

I got up with difficulty. My legs were giving out. I started walking slowly toward where I had parked, unsteady, as if I were drunk.

Only one thought circled in my head as I walked:

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. I have to get to the car. I have to get to the car.

But my body was still trembling, and between my legs I felt a wet, traitorous heat that wouldn’t go away.