Under a twilight sky, the Voie Verte car park, nestled between La Motte-Servolex and Le Bourget-du-Lac in Savoie, exudes an aura of mystery and forbidden promises. This discreet corner, known to insiders for its encounters, comes alive at nightfall. That evening, the air is warm, charged with electric tension. I have just dropped off my bags at the hotel after a long business trip. A quick shower, a jockstrap put on for the occasion, and here I am on my way to this place of debauchery at 6:30 p.m., my heart pounding with anticipation. The car park is almost deserted. Two cars are parked, but their occupants, gray and unattractive silhouettes, inspire nothing in me. I settle into my SUV, patiently scanning the horizon. Suddenly, a Renault Trafic van comes roaring by, brakes sharply next to me and parks at an angle in front of my hood. A man gets out, well into his forties, virile appearance, salt-and-pepper hair, tight jeans. He circles the parking lot, passes in front of my car, glances at me furtively, then leans back against his van, facing the woods. Intrigued, I watch him in the darkness. His actions are unmistakable: he undoes his belt, pulls his pants down slightly, and begins to stroke himself, sure of his effect. Excitement mounts. I get out of my SUV, the alarm flashes in the night. My footsteps crunch on the gravel as I approach, breathless. Arriving at the corner of the van, I see him up close: a muscular alpha male, an impressive cock already stiff, thick, with a glistening head that calls for my tongue. Without a word, I kneel, my mouth seizing his member. He grunts with pleasure, calls me "little slut" while pushing his cock further down my throat. I unbutton my jeans, slide them down to reveal my jock, my ass exposed to the night. He takes out a bottle of poppers and sticks it under my nose. The chemical smell sends me to another world, my head spins, my desire explodes. I suck with an almost animal fervor, moaning around his cock. He sniffs back, his hands become wandering, sliding over my hips, then towards my ass. His fingers, wet with saliva, tickle my asshole, sending shivers down my spine. "You like that, huh, slut?" he murmurs, pushing in one finger, then two, preparing me with predatory precision. Suddenly, a movement to the side. One of the guys from the cars, a dark-haired man in his thirties, has approached. He's jerking off, his eyes fixed on us, his respectable cock in his hand. The excitement mounts further. But that's not all: a third figure emerges from the shadows. A biker in his twenties, helmet under his arm, leather suit half-open, steps forward. Tall, muscular, with a fiery gaze. He doesn't say anything, but his erection, visible through the leather, speaks for itself. The fifty-something, without losing his rhythm, signals me to continue sucking while inviting the biker with a nod. The biker approaches, lowers his suit, freeing a long, thin, already glistening cock. I switch from one cock to the other, my mouth overflowing with these two males dominating me. The brunette jerks ...

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