Bukkake at the old Zaragoza Expo

It's hard for me to remember exactly how it started. I know it was August, one of those Zaragoza nights where the heat doesn't let you breathe and the cierzo wind has taken a vacation. I had been thinking about it for days, reading on forums about what happened at dawn in the area of the old Expo, between the abandoned pavilions and the gardens that the City Council had let die. They said that on Friday nights, that place became something else. That there were hundreds of guys. That anything went.

I arrived around 2 am. I parked near the Puente Pavilion and walked towards the area of the amphitheater, where the vegetation had grown wild and the streetlights had been out of order for years. Only the moon and the screens of the mobile phones lit up the gravel paths.

I was wearing black shorts, a tank top, and nothing else. No underwear. I had showered, shaved all over, prepared inside and out. I knew what I was going for. Or I thought I did.

The first group was next to the remains of a dry fountain. Six or seven guys smoking, some without shirts. They looked at me approaching. One of them, a huge guy, dark-skinned, with a thick beard and a bear's belly, blocked my path.

—What are you looking for?

—Everything —I replied.

He laughed. A deep laugh that echoed between the concrete walls.

—This guy says everything. Have you heard?

He took out his phone and wrote something. In less than five minutes, more started arriving. From the bushes, from the side paths, from the parking lot. As if I had given a signal. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. They kept coming.

The bear grabbed me by the neck of my tank top and pulled me down.

—On your knees, mouth open. And don't get up until I tell you to.

The gravel dug into my knees. He ripped off my tank top and used it to tie my hands behind my back. A simple but tight knot. I felt the cotton cutting off my circulation.

The first guy pulled out his cock in front of my face. Thick, uncircumcised, with a smell of sweat and the whole day. He shoved it down my throat without warning. I felt the gag reflex rising, but I contained it. He grabbed my hair and started fucking my mouth like it was just another hole. Because that's what it was. That's what I had come for.

When he came, he kept his cock inside and I felt the hot spurts hitting my uvula, sliding down my throat. He didn't let me swallow it all. He pulled out his cock, dripping, and held my jaw open.

—So they can see —he ordered.

The semen shone on my tongue. Several guys took out their phones and recorded. The flashes blinded me.

The second guy was more brutal. He put his fingers in my mouth to open it wider, spat inside, and then pushed his cock in. It was longer, curved, and rubbed against my palate with each thrust. He fucked my face, holding me by the ears. When he came, he did it outside, aiming at my eyes. The seme...