That Dawn I Went Looking for the Two Men from the Street

This confession happened almost fifteen years ago. Today I’m thirty-four, I’m married, and I have a daughter. But back then I was nineteen and worked afternoons behind the bar of a café-bar to pay for college. The place closed at eleven-thirty, although I almost never left before one in the morning: I had to do the cash closeout, the inventory, and leave the report ready for the manager.

The bar was on a private street full of nightlife businesses: other bars, two hotels, and a couple of restaurants. It wasn’t a long street, but it was very wide, with a huge median in the center, full of shrubs and well-kept trees. By day it looked like a garden. In the early hours it was a lonely, dark place, and that was why several homeless men used to sleep among the plants. In general they didn’t bother anyone. They slept and left at dawn. But every so often it was said they made women who went out alone uncomfortable.

One night I left much later than usual, almost at two. The manager had left earlier to deal with something of his own and left me part of his tasks. When I finally finished, I said goodbye to the security guard, lit a cigarette, and set off. It was the beginning of the week, so the bars were closed and the hotels only kept the reception light on. While I was walking toward the main avenue to catch a taxi, I saw two guys come into the private street. I knew them by sight, from so many late nights. By the way they walked, you could tell they were high, but I didn’t pay it any attention and kept going.

A few meters farther on they blocked my way and asked me for a cigarette. To avoid trouble, I agreed. I put my hand in my bag to look for the pack while one of them circled around behind me. They looked me up and down. I must confess that I liked dressing sexy, that I was pretty, and that at the time I had an even better body than I do now. Because I was nervous I couldn’t get the lighter out. Suddenly, the one behind me grabbed my skirt, which wasn’t long, and pulled it up. I screamed at once and they ran off toward the median. I broke into a run toward the avenue. Luckily a taxi was passing and I stopped it immediately.

When I got home I burst into tears without really knowing why. And then I realized something: they hadn’t just frightened me. I hadn’t only felt fear. What had happened had turned me on in a terrible way. My underwear was completely soaked.

***

The days went by and I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. I remembered it all the time and my underwear always ended up the same way. At night I dreamed about it. I started fantasizing that it would happen again, wanting it. When I left work, sometimes I saw them. They said obscene things to me or smiled at me. I ignored them, but that only made my desire grow, made me want it to happen again and go further. Much further.

Almost two weeks passed before I could no longer contain that idea and decided to carry out my fantasy. I planned it carefully for a few days. I dressed even more suggestively than usual. I deliberately left later, so I would coincide with them. I wanted them to see me. I wanted them to want me. I wanted, as I imagined every night, for them to take me as if I were theirs.

At last the moment came: a Sunday night. It was the ideal day, because the bar was slammed with work and I could keep myself busy and leave late without anyone suspecting anything. From the moment it started getting dark I was watching them. I saw them coming in and out of the private street. I saw them go into their usual hiding place among the bushes. A little before one in the morning, when I spotted them sitting on the curb, I decided it was the perfect moment. I hurried to finish the closeout, grabbed my bag, said goodbye, and left quickly.

But in that short interval they had vanished. I looked for them even on the median and had no luck. I sat down for a moment right where they usually slept, lit a cigarette, and smoked it slowly. They didn’t appear. I got up and walked toward the avenue to go home. And then I saw them, just like the first time, turning into the private street.

I was about to go up the stairs that led to the avenue. My legs started shaking and cold sweat ran down my back. Still, I kept going. I didn’t do anything to call them: I simply climbed the steps slowly. Then one of them, pretty tall, with a rough, broken voice, spoke to me.

—Hey, pretty girl. Can you give me a cigarette?

—Yes... —I answered in a trembling voice, just like my hands, which could barely open my bag.

It was really happening. I had looked for it and it was happening.

The other, shorter one, with a face that looked really mean, sat down on the stairs beside his friend. He stared at my legs without even trying to hide it, even bending down as if expecting to see something more. At that moment I felt that tremendous arousal again. I could feel my underwear getting wet. I was ready for those two.

I took out the cigarettes and the lighter. They each took one. I lit the flame and held it out to them with trembling hands. They laughed. The tall one took hold of my wrists and leaned in to light his. The other suddenly stood up, moved to my side, and leaned in too.

—Why are you so nervous, beautiful? We’re not going to do anything to you —and they laughed again.

I only smiled and put my things back in my bag.

The hard-faced one told me that since I had shared my cigarettes, they would do the same. He took a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket. It was obvious it wasn’t tobacco. He gave it to me, I lit it with some matches he offered me, and the truth is it relaxed me a lot. The trembling in my legs disappeared. I sat down on the step. Without realizing it, one of my legs had ridden my skirt up too high and my underwear was visible. I didn’t fix it. When I noticed they were looking, I got even more turned on. The hard-faced one stood in front of me to see everything the skirt left exposed.

They started talking to me. They talked a lot and, from the way they looked at me, they were comfortable with me, but they didn’t make any moves or get too close. Until I asked them if they had more cigarettes. They told me that if I wanted, we could smoke on the median, more comfortably. I agreed, happy. The shorter one gave me his hand to help me up and we walked along the street to the hiding place where I myself had been a little while earlier.

—Sit down —the tall one said, laying a piece of cardboard on the grass.

I sat down and they settled across from me, looking toward my skirt, waiting for another careless move. I opened my bag, took out the cigarettes and lighter, and left them on the cardboard. We lit another one. Since I wasn’t used to what we’d smoked before, I felt very relaxed. I thought of offering them some beers. I took out my wallet and gave them money. The shorter one took it and sent the tall one to buy beer and something to snack on. The other went off grudgingly.

When we were alone, the shorter one sat beside me and started questioning me: where I was from, what I studied, things like that. At some point he put an arm over my shoulders. His hand rested near my breast, without touching it. Then he lowered it to my waist, as if testing the waters. Seeing that I didn’t stop him, he softly stroked my ass. I just laughed. He got bolder, raised his hand again, and started massaging my breast through my blouse. I was so aroused that I let him do it without protest.

He unfastened a button, slipped his hand under my bra, and brought his face to my neck to kiss me. I didn’t care that I was there, alone, at his mercy, or about the strong smell of street and abandonment he gave off. At that moment the tall one jumped over the bushes and put the beers and a couple of bags of chips on the ground.

The shorter one let me go, opened a beer for me, and we drank for a while. Again we were only talking. Until he leaned in again, this time with his hand on my thigh. He slowly worked it downward while we chatted, and with his fingers he barely brushed my pussy. I was drenched. He pulled his hand away and, looking at the tall one, smiled. The tall one laughed. I looked at him and asked if he didn’t want any.

***

The tall one lunged at me and put his hands on my breasts over my blouse. I stopped him, pushed him back, unbuttoned myself, and took off my bra. I told him to touch me again if he wanted. He threw himself at me again, this time with his mouth, and started licking and biting my nipples. I began to moan from how good it felt. Without taking his face off my chest, he slipped his hands under my skirt and kneaded my ass, giving me light pinches that only made me moan more. Knowing I was out in the street, I tried to keep quiet, but every so often a loud one escaped me.

He knelt in front of me, unfastened his pants, and pulled out his cock, average-sized. He asked me to suck him off. I knelt down, looked in my bag, took out a condom, and put it on him. I jerked him a little and then leaned down and took his cock all the way into my mouth in one go. For some reason, that smell, which was anything but pleasant, turned me on even more.

While I was bent over, I felt the other man’s hands on my ass, feeling me like he was examining me. Then I felt his wet cock between my butt cheeks. I paused for a moment, took it in one hand, and jerked him while with the other I looked for another condom. I put it on him carefully. I bent over the tall one again, and the shorter one lifted my skirt up over my back, pushed aside my underwear, and thrust into me in one go. I was so wet that I didn’t resist. I could only muffle my moan against the cock in my mouth.

When he started thrusting into me, I lost control and moaned like crazy. I didn’t care that I was in the street, being used like a slut. The tall one got annoyed because I could no longer focus on him, grabbed me by the nape of the neck, and started moving against my mouth. I felt like I was choking, until suddenly he pulled away.

He asked the other to switch places, that he wanted to finish inside me now. They switched. The tall one went in gently, thrusting with rhythm, less aggressive than his friend but just as intense. Every so often he would stop, pull out, and go back in. Then his hands massaged my back, he leaned over me, and with one hand on my waist, guided his cock toward a new place. He entered slowly, with a little difficulty at first. I couldn’t help a louder cry than the earlier ones, this time from pain. But soon the pain turned into pleasure and I was moaning again, biting my wrist so I wouldn’t be found out. One of his moans marked the end. He stayed still for a moment and then pulled away, lay back, and lit a cigarette.

The shorter one then came up behind me and, like the first time, thrust into me in one go. He was rougher, but the pleasure was greater too. My face was against the grass, biting my wrist so I wouldn’t scream. He suddenly stopped, asked me to lie on my back. I lay down on the cardboard and opened my legs for him. He pushed my underwear aside and left it to one side. He bent down to lick my breasts, my nipples hard and swollen, and went back into me. I could only cover my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t cry out from pleasure. He kept going like that for several minutes. The tall one, off to one side, caressed whatever part of my body he felt like.

The shorter one took hold of one of my legs by the ankle, lifted it, brought it together with the other one over his shoulder, and penetrated me again. By then I had come several times; I was just a body surrendered to their pleasure. It didn’t take long. He lowered my legs, pulled away, and came on my belly. I didn’t do anything. I stayed lying on the cardboard, legs open, while the tall one, still nearby, finished too with a tired expression.

***

Spent, I settled back against a tree. I felt strangely happy. I didn’t want that feeling to end, of having been taken by two strangers in the middle of the street. I lit a cigarette and smoked it without getting dressed, while they kept touching my body however they wanted. Among the bushes I managed to make out the figure of an older man, also from the street, watching me. I didn’t care. I stayed stretched out there, smoking, completely naked.

More because of the dawn chill than because I was uncomfortable, I looked for my clothes to cover myself. I only found my skirt and blouse. Seeing their faces, I understood they had kept my underwear as a trophy. After a while talking and joking, I said goodbye to them and went home, because it was already starting to get light and I didn’t want anyone from the place to see me in that state.

What happened that night never happened again. I still worked there for a few more months, and all that was left between us was a strange kind of friendship. Sometimes, when they passed by, they would brush something over my clothes, but they never tried anything else again. And for a long time, I didn’t dare tell anyone that it hadn’t happened to me: that I had gone looking for it again.