Tracey Parker is a gay cruising fanatic who travels around the world; after sharing with Squirt.org members the steamy gay cruising in the hottest gay cruising woods famous in Mexico City and the hot gay sauna in Lima, Peru, Tracey tells us of another hidden gay cruising park gem in Mexico City where cocks get sucked, asses get fucked. Men get picked up by hustlers looking for love tonight. Read the story below.
I spotted him sitting on the far end of La Alameda, close to Avenida Reforma.
Recently, I’d noticed the hustlers had been hanging out over there as opposed to along Avenida Humboldt, where you could always count on finding about a dozen of them blending in or standing out among all the ordinary people, depending on how many were there, and how attuned your eye was.
Last weekend, I saw him in La Ciudadela. He stuck out among the rest because he looked better than the others. He had mastered the cool bad boy look that I always fell victim to. That night, I remember he had a bad attitude, too.
He talked to me right as I was walking up to him.
“What are you looking for, guero? I’ll go to a hotel with you for Dos Cincuenta.”
“Dos Cincuenta,” he repeated before I responded at all. “Barato.” “Cheap.”
$250MX was cheap, but it was what most men like him prowling the streets charged in Juan Alameda Central of Mexico City.
“Yes or no?” he said impatiently. “Yes or no!”
His request for an answer was more aggressive than usually expected of his crew, so I just walked off, but he stayed in my mind. The ones that get away always do.
Next weekend, there he was again. I sat next to him on the bench.
He was nicer today. It was daytime. He had a goofy niceness and lightness about him. It seemed he didn’t remember me from last weekend.
His changed aura lured me this time, and the answer he demanded last week became a yes; he smiled and walked away with me.
We got to the hotel and performed the first part of the ritual.
It was a confession. The front desk attendant was a priest at the cheap hourly hotel specializing in customers like Juan and me. In this church, a room was $180MX. She handed over the room key.
Besides the money, the attendant asked for nothing, no explanation, but Juan and I spoke for ourselves.
We knew how obvious it was and what was happening between us. We said nothing, but our situation screamed out, revealing everything and hiding nothing. The front desk attendant said nothing in return and in a way that offered some approval, which was scarce in this world. You took what you could get.
I was showing him off to the only person who would see us. It worked the same for Juan. He had scored a catch. He had what it took to be a part of this world. He had that appeal that guys like me paid for.
I asked if he wanted a beer, and he said yes. I paid the front attendant for two beers, and he took them out of the fridge in the lobby.
We climbed the stairs silently, following a well-understood ritual, yet we had no idea what the other was thinking or feeling. We could only guess.
The standard sounds ushered us into the room. The teeth of the key enter and exit the keyhole. The latch opened, the door slamming behind us.
Once inside, we retreated to the opposite side of the bed. We began removing our clothes and putting them in our respective corners out of a lack of trust in the other.
Juan tossed my beer onto the bed and opened his. I stared at his naked body. I expected him to be more cut up than he was, but a slim and angular physique still greeted me.
Given his sharp jawline and piercing gaze, I expected movie star muscles, but the reality of an authentic yet handsome body punctuated the reality of paying for gay sex in this motel room; this wasn’t a movie.
He cracked the beer open and exposed the hair under his right arm as he threw back some big gulps.
He burped and looked back at me. I was watching how he moved. I dropped my pants, and my cock reached out to him across the bed. I nodded my head, telling him to continue stripping.
Juan dropped his shorts, and his hairy penis hung down. It was starting to grow.
We both walked around to the end of the bed; he sat down and began to suck me off. It was a clumsy, dutiful blow job. My pleasure came from watching him do it, and my thickening dick grew even thicker in his warm, eager mouth.
Not long after, I pushed back on his forehead so that he stopped sucking and looked up with his puppy dog eyes at me for what to do next. My cock was dripping and making his face messy.
I told him to lay back on his back.
He let his arms fall back behind his head, exposing his hairy armpits, his hairless body, and his hairy cock. Juan had nice thick balls and a thick cock that was starting to get hard. I began to tickle it.
I licked his balls and made him laugh. He told me to stop, and I kept going. He repeated that I should stop while laughing.
I began to crawl slowly up so that we could look each other in the eye. I gave him a stern but soft slap across the cheek. His smile disappeared, and the laughing stopped.
I lowered myself back down to his cock, a little less erect than before, the playful slap arousing me, but not him as I expected. I began to lick his fat, hairy balls again.
He lay motionless as I took each ball into my mouth and tugged on them until they popped back out; this made him hard again.
I got up off my knees and placed my cock beside his. I began jerking us off together. He was still on his back with his arm behind his head. His gaze bounced between me and the ceiling. A simple lightbulb hung and illuminated both of us crudely and somewhat violently.
I grabbed onto his fleshy quadriceps and began to massage him; this made his eyes roll back, and he got giggly again. I was starting to get to know his body and beginning to love playing around with it.
The increasing familiarity with his flesh made my dick even harder. I wanted to be inside of him.
At first, he was hesitant to let me fuck him. He told me he was a top, but I took his legs and crossed one over the other quickly so his torso quickly rotated around.
His bare asscrack right in front of me. He raised himself onto his elbows and stared straight forward at the bedframe, his ass and willing hole now ready for me and on display, offering himself to me simply by offering no resistance.
When they fuck me, they give me more, he said, away from me, into the headboard.
I told him that if you let me in, I’ll give you 500.
I went over to my stuff and took out a package of lube and a condom.
“Don’t worry,” I told him, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll be gentle.”
I casually toyed around with Juan’s hole and the lube. Still, my reassuring words were not convincing my new little bottom slut. He clenched shut, but I still worked my slippery finger inside and watched goosebumps break out all over his lower back and shoulders.
I watched him go from fear to pleasure, his hole relaxing, and then I knew I could proceed.
I placed my dick tip outside his ass. I wasn’t hard enough to penetrate yet. I pressed my body on his, his face buried in the pillow. I told him to look at me.
“Open your mouth,” I told him.
“Stick out your tongue.”
He obeyed each request.
I stuck my fingers inside his mouth and asked him if he tasted his asshole.
My fingers muffled his response. I pushed my cock inside him just a little bit. I reminded him to breathe.
I paused, but we knew I’d soon be in his tight hole. The twitching of his anus began to slow down. I pushed myself in, but no sounds of pain or discomfort. He was open all the way now.
My bulging tip fumbled around the soft, pink and surprisingly tight walls inside of him. My weight pushed him into the mattress even further.
I grabbed his hands, clenched below his chest, and stretched them out to either side. I opened him up as much as I could. I knew he’d let me do anything as long as I didn’t hurt him.
I steadied myself on his shoulders and thrust myself even deeper inside of him until I finally got the moan of pain and pleasure I sought from his lips.
The ritual this time was repetition, as I shoved my cock deeper into him, in and out, in and out, every few moments getting another gasp of pleasure seeping from his lips.
His hole so wet with my pre cum and lube that, eventually, my penetration into him got easier and smoother. His shoulders and back relaxed some more as the rhythm made him comfortable, and his earlier protests of not wanting to bottom felt like a protest of a distant time, of another body, another person.
This one now was open and wide, taking all the dick he could, and I could feel the hole stretched; my penis sliding in and out of this anonymous gay hookup, a hookup you could only pay for, not one that could be achieved from the hookup apps. The power dynamics between Juan and me were alluring, a submission from him only coming from the promise of exchanging cash with our bodily fluids.
We fumbled around like this until he switched to doggy style. Here I went to town with him, giving it to him more and more cock in almost near-silence. We both were working up a manly sweat.
We stood up and walked over to the wall while I was still inside of him. We were both sweaty and catching our breath. I fucked him in front of the mirror and watched as my big white body devoured his slender brown hairy muscled build. His stern masculinity still stubbornly remained even with my cock so far inside of him.
I was close now, and I could feel my mighty dick getting close, my cock no match for his tight hole; his broody eyes lost in ecstasy, making me feel even more horny and ready to bust.
I grabbed his torso and emptied myself inside of him. Once done, my dripping dick slowly pulled out of his sopping-wet asshole.
Then, like a magical drug, it ended immediately, almost without any warning, the ritual broken.
Our sweaty bodies were a hot part of our affair; now, they just felt like sticky, gross objects in a dark motel room, the romance of the moment creeping away. We both knew it was over.
Juan immediately became less nervous. My male of the moment pushed himself away, walked over to his things, and immediately began putting his clothes back on.
We settled up and said goodbye.
After that night, I would still see Juan around town; however, only a few times more before never seeing him again.
One day, I saw Juan sitting beside the road; a car pulled up beside him. He pulled his body off of the sidewalk bench without thinking twice and jumped in.
I imagine that car took him far away from his life, his duties of the night among the other boys like him, to a happier place, one where the mean eyes became a little less mean.
A place where the tough facade faded, a mechanism no longer needed, rusted out, replaced by happier emotions. The memories of nightly tricks, negotiation of price, and his memory of me are long gone and out of his mind on the open road. Me, just another pothole on a highway of imperfections.
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