One Thursday, the sky above Parc de Miribel Jonage was still a twilight orange when I arrived at the Baraka parking lot around 6:30 p.m. The air was warm, laden with the smell of damp grass and lingering testosterone. I'd read the rumors about this spot: a discreet place, known to guys on the hunt, and I was ready to give it my all. My ad on the site had attracted a crowd, and I could already feel my body tingling with excitement at the thought of what awaited me. I got out of my car, wearing shorts that revealed my butt and my jockstrap, and a black Adidas T-shirt. No fuss, I was there for one thing: to empty cocks, and I'd promised a total open bar. I'd barely set foot on the gravel when I saw the first guys approach. Eight pairs of balls to relieve, that's what I had counted at the end of the night, but right there, it was the beginning of the carnage. The first to show up was a burly Arab guy, in his thirties, with a well-trimmed beard and a look that smelled of sex. He was wearing gray jogging pants that didn't hide anything of his gear: a huge bulge stretched the fabric, and I knew right away that he was in the TBM category that I had requested on Wannonce. "You're the bottom of the ad, right?" he threw at me, a smirk. I nodded, already half in a trance, and he pulled down his pants without waiting. His cock, thick, veiny, with a shiny head, made my mouth water immediately. I dove on it, my lips stretching around its caliber, while he groaned with pleasure and held the back of my neck. He smelled like a man, a mixture of sweat and raw musk, and I pumped him until he filled my throat with a hot jet. First shot, and I was already drenched with desire. A second Arab guy showed up right after, apparently a friend of the first. Younger, drier, but just as well-endowed. He had a vicious stare and a hood up that gave him a bad-boy look. Without a word, he spun me against a parked car, spat in his hand, and shoved me in with one hard thrust. My ass opened like a flower, used to this kind of treatment, and he pounded me rhythmically, his balls slapping against my buttocks. "You like that, huh, bitch?" he murmured between thrusts. I moaned a hoarse "yes," and he finally emptied himself inside me, leaving a sticky heat running down my thighs.As the night wore on, the guys filed in. A third, a burly blond in his forties, took my mouth while a fourth, a wiry guy with a curved cock, worked my ass. I was sandwiched between them, drooling and moaning, while the parking lot echoed with the sounds of flesh and ragged breaths. At one point, a security guard showed up, a tall, uniformed Black guy in his late thirties, with a flashlight that he shone on us. I thought we were don ...

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