I Went for a Run at Dusk and Never Came Back the Same

I went out for a run that night, like almost every Wednesday, when María Luisa Park was already half empty and the March air slipped through the folds of my T-shirt and cooled the sweat on my back. By nine-thirty, the main promenades were left with the yellowish streetlamps as their only company, and the few strollers vanished in the direction of the Los Remedios district.

I was on the path that runs along the lotus pond, but near the Bécquer Roundabout I veered south, where the foliage closes in and the noise from the avenue dies away completely. It was an area I knew well. Narrow paths between tall cypresses, dense hedges, dark corners where the light barely reaches.

That’s where things people never see tend to happen. I had my headphones on and wasn’t paying attention. I saw a shadow in the distance I couldn’t place, and when I slowed down I made them out: three figures standing at the crossing that leads up to the Lion Fountain.

The tallest one, the one with the short ponytail, raised a hand when I passed by them.

“Hey, wait up, man. One second,” he said.

I stopped, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling. My long hair stuck to my face and the leggings marked every line of my body.

“What’s up?” I asked.

The skinny one, the one with light eyes and a shaved goatee, stepped closer and looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming down the path.

“Nothing serious. We’ve just run out of cash to get back. Can you help us out? Twenty euros and we’ll go home easy,” he asked.

I put my hand in the little pocket at the waist of my leggings and took out what I had.

“I’ve got ten. Sorry, I don’t have any more.”

The ponytail didn’t take the bill. That was the first thing that put me on edge. He just stared at me slowly from head to toe, as if he were sizing something up. His eyes stopped on my legs, on the curve of my ass under the stretchy fabric, on the chest that showed beneath the thin, sweat-soaked shirt.

“Forget the money,” he muttered. “Now that I can see you properly, fuck, I’ve got a craving for something else.”

He stepped toward me and his voice changed.

“What a tasty little thing you are. Face like you’ve never broken a plate, long hair, perky ass. You look like a girl and I know damn well you’re a guy. And that gets me raging.”

The skinny one let out a low laugh and moved to the other side.

“Fuck, yeah, it is weird. But the bastard’s hot. Look at him shaking.”

The third one, the bulky guy with tattooed arms, ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at his friends.

“You’re crazy, but... what if we try it? No one can see us here. The park’s dead at this hour.”

I took a step back, shaking off the hand already reaching for the back of my neck.

“Get your hands off me. Don’t touch me, fuck. Leave me alone or I’ll scream.”

My voice came out high and shaky, but angry. I tried to break free and hit the skinny one in the chest with my elbow. It landed weakly, but enough to make him step back.

“I told you no. Fuck off already.”

The ponytail didn’t budge. He grabbed my wrist with a vise-like hand, wrenching it back until the pain made me bend a little.

“Easy, pretty boy. Don’t be stupid. No one’s going to hear you in here.”

I pulled with everything I had and kicked at his shins. The bulky one moved fast, wrapped one huge arm around my waist, and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. My feet kicked in the air for a second.

“Put me down, you son of a bitch! Let go of me right now!”

The skinny one shoved his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small switchblade, one of those folding knives with a thin blade. He flicked it open with a sharp click that echoed in the park’s silence.

I went white. I hadn’t expected that. He brought the blade up to my face, not touching me, just close enough for me to see the steel gleam under the distant light of a streetlamp.

“Listen, pretty boy. You can scream all you want, but if you keep kicking, we’re going to draw a little picture on that cute face of yours. Is that what you want? Or do you prefer to behave and let us all enjoy ourselves?”

I froze on the spot. Fear rose up my throat like bile. The bulky one held me pressed against his broad, hot chest. The ponytail let go of my wrist, but he grabbed my long hair hard and jerked my head back until all I could see was the black sky between the branches.

“Good boy. That’s more like it. Now walk with us. No stupid moves, yeah? Or this little knife will leave you a souvenir.”

They shoved me onto the path that cuts between the hedges, south of Bécquer Roundabout. I tried to brace my feet in the gravel, but the bulky one lifted me almost off the ground and dragged me the last few meters. The skinny one went ahead with the knife, clearing a way through the dense foliage that brushed my arms and muffled any sound.

We reached one of those circular nooks: a small clearing hidden inside the bushes, with no direct streetlights, and an old iron bench half rusted and covered with leaves. That was where they stopped.

The bulky one finally let me go, but shoved me against the trunk of a thick cypress, with my back to it. The ponytail slammed my shoulders against the bark.

“There we go, little one. Enough of the show. Now you’re going to behave and let us enjoy that little ass you’ve got.”

The skinny one put the knife away, but left it visible in his pocket as a warning.

“Open your legs. Or we’ll do it for you.”

My knees were shaking. Fear and rage mixed with something I didn’t want to name. They yanked my leggings down slowly and my black thong went with them. The cold night raised gooseflesh on my skin, but the hot hands that stuck to my thighs countered it immediately.

“Look at that firm little ass. Looks like a girl. And the fag’s wearing a thong too,” the skinny one laughed.

The ponytail leaned close to my ear.

“Before each of us takes you in turn, you’re going to kneel down and suck every one of our cocks. That is, if you want us to fuck you slow and not leave you looking wrecked. Your call.”

Terror tightened my throat. I looked at the knife peeking from the skinny one’s pocket and knew I had no choice. My legs were shaking so badly I almost fell when I got down. I knelt slowly on the cold, damp earth of the clearing, dry leaves crunching under my bare knees.

The uneven ground dug little stones into my skin, but I didn’t complain. I lowered my head and my long brown hair fell over my face like a curtain. I lifted my glassy eyes toward them.

First it was the ponytail. He planted himself in front of me with his legs apart, pulled down his tracksuit bottoms, and his thick, dark cock sprang free, already half hard and throbbing, aimed at my mouth.

“Start with me, slut. Use your hands too, I want to feel all of you.”

I took it with both hands: my left at the thick base, my right stroking up and down the shaft while I opened my mouth. I started by licking the head, tasting the salty, strong flavor of sweat and precum. Then I took it all in, slowly at first, until it hit the back of my throat.

I used my hands to jerk what wouldn’t fit, squeezing and twisting. I bobbed my head up and down in rhythm, my nose brushing his curly pubes, strong gagging fits making me cry, but I didn’t stop. I lowered my hands to his heavy balls, massaged them, tugged gently. He groaned and grabbed my hair.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a deep throat, faggot. Swallow it all, like that.”

I sped up, my throat opened as wide as it would go, saliva running down my chin and onto his balls. I felt him swell, felt him pulse against my tongue. He shoved my head all the way down and came. Hot, thick jets shot straight into my throat. I swallowed once, twice, three times without pulling off, tasting the bitter flavor slide down my esophagus. I didn’t let a single drop fall.

“Good boy. Every last drop.”

When he pulled out, panting, I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and moved on to the skinny one. He was already hard, with a slightly more curved cock and prominent veins. He grabbed my face with one hand and shoved it to the hilt in one thrust.

“My turn now, pretty boy. I want to see you choke on mine.”

I took it the same way: one hand at the base, the other jerking the shaft while I took it to the hilt. Deep throat without pause, gagging fits that made me convulse, but I kept going, my nose pressed to his skin, my tongue circling around it. My hands never stopped. He moaned louder.

“Holy shit, what a whore mouth. Deeper, yeah. Like that.”

He fucked my throat with short, hard thrusts. When he came, he held my head still and unloaded inside me: abundant, hot semen that I swallowed with difficulty, feeling it gush down in spurts. I coughed a little when he pulled out, but I swallowed the rest.

Last was the bulky one. His cock was huge, the head like a clenched fist. He looked down at me with a half-smile.

“Finish the job, faggot. And use both hands like your life depends on it.”

I grabbed it with both hands from the start: one at the base, the other wrapped around the shaft because it wouldn’t all fit in my mouth. I sucked it desperately, my throat open as wide as it could go, going down until I felt strong nausea and tears rolling down my cheeks.

My hands jerked what was left outside, fast and firm, while I swallowed around the head. He took me by the hair with both hands and pushed.

“That’s it, bitch. Swallow it all. I want to feel you choking.”

The rhythm turned brutal. Constant gagging, saliva and tears mixed together, but I didn’t stop. When he came, it was like a torrent: thick spurts that filled my mouth until it overflowed. I swallowed again and again, coughing, feeling my throat burn, but swallowing everything until it was clean.

The three of them stood there looking at me, panting, while I remained on my knees, lips swollen, face and chin shining with saliva and residue, my chest rising and falling.

The ponytail smiled with satisfaction.

“Good work, slut. Now then. We’re going to fuck you like you deserve.”

***

They lifted me between the three of them like I weighed nothing and laid me on my back over the rusty, cold bench. The iron bit into my back, but my body was already burning and I didn’t care. The bulky one knelt between my legs, pried them open with his huge hands, and positioned himself on top of me in missionary.

His thick cock, still shiny with saliva, pressed against my hole, already warm and opened by forced arousal.

“Look at that little fag hole you’ve got. All wet. You’re going to take cock until you cry, slut.”

He pushed in all at once, deep, to the hilt. I felt every centimeter stretching me, the thick head forging a path, the veins rubbing against the inner walls. He thrust slowly but brutally, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back in until his balls hit my ass. Each slam made me gasp and, against what I wanted to admit, I started to enjoy it. My chest, with its slight gynecomastia, bounced beneath the soaked T-shirt.

“That’s it. Tighten that little girl ass. You’re milking my cock, fuck. You like feeling it that deep?”

A firm slap on my side made me answer.

“Yes. Yes, I like it.”

I whispered it between moans, my voice broken. As he fucked me with growing rhythm, the ponytail climbed onto the bench and knelt over my chest. He grabbed my face and shoved his cock into my throat again.

“Open that filthy little mouth. You’re going to suck me while they split your ass open like a cheap whore.”

He drove it in to the hilt, fucking my mouth with short, deep thrusts. Constant gagging and nausea, saliva running down my cheeks and neck, but he didn’t stop.

“Swallow it all, faggot. Feel how I’m fucking your throat while they’re wrecking your ass from below.”

The skinny one was jerking off at the side, waiting his turn.

“Look at his legs shaking. He loves getting it in the ass like a woman. Give it to him harder, make his eyes pop out.”

The bulky one switched with the skinny one. This one went in hard, more curved, hitting different spots inside me. Fast, deep thrusts that made my small cock drip nonstop onto my belly.

“Holy shit, you’re still so tight. Looks like nobody’s ever fucked you properly. There, there, there. I’m going to leave your ass like a sieve.”

The turns went on like that for a long while, changing positions, no one finishing yet, just building the tension. Sweat, saliva, low moans and constant filthy talk.

“We’re going to fuck you all night, boy. Until dawn comes and your ass is swollen and full of cum.”

“Say it, bitch. Say you want us to blow your ass apart.”

Another slap on my thigh dragged the answer out of me.

“I want it. I want you to blow my ass apart. Please.”

***

After a good while in missionary, they yanked me around abruptly. They set me on all fours on the bench, ass in the air, knees on the cold iron and hands braced on the rusted edge. Doggy style.

The ponytail went in first from behind, gripping my narrow hips hard and digging his fingers into the flesh.

“Now that’s it, slut. Doggy style like the dog you are. Look how that little ass opens when I shove it in to the balls.”

Wild, deep thrusts that made my chest bounce with every hit. The bench creaked. The skinny one positioned himself in front and shoved his cock into my mouth again.

“Suck while they fuck you, faggot. Feel how they’re jamming it all the way into your ass. Do you like being treated like a hole with legs?”

“Yes. I like it. Don’t stop.”

The bulky one waited, jerking himself off, and then switched with the ponytail. His thicker cock opened me even more, the stretch brutal, a strange pain that made me moan out loud.

“Fuck, it sounds so good when it goes all the way in. Tighten, bitch, tighten—I want to feel you convulse.”

Long turns in doggy style, each of them fucking me hard, changing without coming. The night cold had been forgotten in the heat of the bodies.

At last, they lifted me and positioned the bulky one lying on the bench. They sat me astride him. I lowered myself slowly onto his cock, impaling myself to the hilt, feeling him fill me completely.

“Ride me, slut. Up and down like a good whore. Move that little girl ass.”

I started moving, my hands braced on his broad chest. The ponytail positioned himself behind me, pushed, and entered the same hole too. Double penetration. Two cocks rubbing inside, stretching me to the limit, the burn and the pleasure mixing until only forced pleasure was left.

“Fuck. Two cocks in your faggot ass. Feel how we’re opening you up. Do you like being like this, impaled like a whore?”

“Yes. Yes. I love it. Don’t stop.”

The skinny one climbed onto the bench and shoved his cock into my mouth, fucking my throat while the other two opened me up below. Taking turns in the positions, one lying down, double anal with me on top, the third in my mouth. Slow, deep changes, constant obscenities.

“Look how it’s dripping. He loves getting it in the ass from two sides. You’re going to swallow three loads of hot cum before dawn.”

“Say it again, bitch. Say you’re our park whore.”

“I am. I’m your park whore. Fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Hours passed. Endless changes, deep thrusts, brutal double penetrations, throat fucked without mercy. Until three or four in the morning, when the sky was beginning to pale slightly above the cypresses.

Finally, one after another, they came inside me. Hot jets filling my ass until it overflowed, semen running down my thighs. The last one pulled out and painted my face and chest with what he had left. I had blown several times during the night, trembling, splashing their bodies and the bench.

They left me there, slumped sideways on the cold iron. My clothes, the leggings, the thong and the T-shirt, were scattered among the leaves. My ass was open and leaking plenty of semen, my face and chest speckled, my hair tousled and stuck to my sweaty forehead, lips swollen, breathing ragged. My body ached, sated, trembling under the cold that was creeping back in.

The ponytail crouched down one last time and gave my ass a firm smack.

“You want to do this again tomorrow? If so, we’ll be around here at about the same time. I’d advise you to come with your ass ready, because next time we’re going to leave you worse off.”

They walked away, laughing softly down the dark path. I stayed motionless for a while, feeling the semen still leaking out, my mind blank, my body exhausted. And the worst part was that I still had to make my way through the park and get home.”