Tracey Parker is a gay cruising fanatic who travels around the world; after sharing with Squirt.org members the steamy hookups in his last piece about gay cruising hot spot Alameda Central in Mexico City and gay Sauna 240 in downtown Lima, Peru, Tracey takes us to another hot cruising location in Mexico City; on the south side of La Biblioteca de Mexico, there is a park surrounded by Taco stands, with benches and a beautiful fountain in the middle.

La Ciudadela is a known street in the city that attracts hot males and hustlers looking for discreet fun. Find out more about this hot gay cruising location in a gay erotic story below.

Around the corner, on Calle Enrico Martinez, a steady stream of cars creeps by, each carrying one male passenger inside, who drives by slowly, watching the hustlers as they come out of the shadows. They pull their cocks out of their pants and show off what they are offering. 

If the man unlocks the door, the hustler will get in, ask no questions, and the two will drive to a nearby hotel to consume each other. 

A stop sign is at the other end of La Calle. Cars reaching this part of the street either leave quickly, stay, begin another lap, or slow down. 

The ones that slow down are heterosexual couples. When they show up, a group of men come out into the street lights, their cocks fully erect, stroking and showing off their size. 

The first time I saw this, it felt surreal. I desired most of the men who were showing off. I was in the middle of the park, gay cruising with other men like me, mainly with no money exchanged, but there are always exceptions. 

As I approached, there was one short, dark-skinned guy who looked like the soccer players I’d see on TV, the ones I’ve had crushes on my entire life. His abs were what stuck out to me. His unbuttoned shirt framed them, glistening under the streetlights. 

A forest of beautiful black hairs connected his glistening abs to his beautiful long cock. A big pink head exploded out of his foreskin. Without knowing, I found myself following him. 

I knew he could feel the effect he was having on me, how you can feel when somebody looks at you from a short distance. But I wasn’t just looking at him. Karma from my past was grasping out for whatever he transmitted. I knew he could feel that. 

But he didn’t turn around and engage with me. He kept walking. Eventually, he stopped, turning until we were face to face. He was still unsure of how to interact with me, and my being a white foreigner probably confused him even more.

“What do you want?” he asked me. 

“Te la chupo?” which meant, “Can I suck your cock?”

“Pero, cobro,” meaning “but I charge.”

I loved this part of the game. 

“How much?” 

“$200MX”

I only had $100MX on me. I took it out and showed him the money; he took it from me and pulled down his pants just enough so that his girthy hairy cock fell out from the denim, the same way as he had done for the car driving by when I first saw him. 

We were behind a bus stop for a bus line that wasn’t running at this hour. I got down on my knees and buried my face in his pubic hair. I breathed onto his soft, half-erect dick, slowly placing my tongue, then my mouth and soon, the entire dick was between my lips. Soon, I felt it grow into my mouth until it began to touch the back of my throat. I brought my head further down onto his penis until the thick dick choked me.

He pulled up his shirt to show me his abs. I placed my hands on them. 

My hands wandered back around his waist. I grabbed onto him tighter as his cock grew large. He stood there and began to look around for something else. I sensed my time was running out. 

I unbuckled my belt and began jerking myself off. I opened my mouth and let his cock sit on my tongue, and I brought myself to climax. 

We exchanged no more words. He turned around, left me on my knees with my pants unbuttoned and cum dripping from my cock and index finger. I could still taste him in my mouth.

I looked for him as I got up. The air carried a moist, heavy silence. It was the rainy season in Mexico City. It had been pouring earlier, and the rains always left a cold dampness behind. 

A mist rose from the asphalt, still hot from the afternoon heat. No cars were passing. I walked across the street, like I owned the city, to see if I could find some more.

I crossed the street of La Ciudadela, where there is an enormous library but also a more extensive park where men stand in dark corners with erect cocks hanging out. 

They stroke their cocks with one hand while the other hung on the other side, their eyes desperately looking for something to get lost inside of. I knew I could find more of what I sought: hot anonymous cock.

I walked past circles of brown Indigenous bodies in Western clothes, most unbuttoned, exposing genitals, asscracks, underwear, and pubic hair. It was crowded; guys from the nearby bars in Zona Rosa and the gay cruising hotspots now closing; these men were starting to show up, looking for a next fix of dick.

Standing back from one of the circles was a young guy who I’d seen here before. I’d tried touching him before, but he usually slipped away into the rest before I could catch his attention.

He was an exhibitionist, allowing the gay voyeurs around him to watch him stroke and slide his hands over his supple body.

When I saw him, this fellow was always dressed in a loose tank top and soccer shorts. The way he pulled the bottom of his tank top over the top of his head to show off his abs but still left the rest to the imagination always grabbed my attention, sometimes from across the entire park. 

Most hung their cocks over the top of their underwear while they jerked themselves off. 

Still, this guy liked to lower his beneath the bottom of his athletic shorts, exposing his entire leg up to his waist behind his long, skinny, veiny pole that he stroked slowly every few minutes just to keep it hard. 

He let his dick hang the rest of the time and dangle back and forth like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

His tennis shoes and socks looked bulky and out of place and exaggerated his outdoor nakedness. The rest of us all had jackets on or at least sweaters. This guy must have stayed warm from the sexual energy—that which he transmitted and received. 

I went ahead and tried to get close to him again. I approached slowly, touched him with my eyes, and allowed what he was showing off to affect me.

I planned to work with him. He had never let me get this close to him. Very rarely had I seen anybody touching him or sucking him off. 

I got close enough to smell his scent as the breeze blew in my direction. He watched me breathe it in and out slowly with my nose. I opened my mouth to capture more of his musk mixed with the cold, moist air. 

Without thinking, I unbuckled my belt and pulled my cock out. I saw him slightly smile; he was getting off on my submitting myself sexually to his charisma and aura.

His eyes were looking at my cock, impatiently, wanting me to jerk off in his presence. I stared back at him, asking for something to work with; our eye contact is a gay cruising language older than the two European languages we used to go about our lives in our respective worlds. 

He raised his arm and touched the back of his head, exposing his long bicep, his forest of black armpit hair, and the magnificent entirety of the side of his naked torso. 

My hand grasped my cock just as he raised his hand above his head as if our limbs were connected, and I believe that on some other plane, they were.

A crowd was around us now, and a half dozen others followed my lead. Our eyes stared at this creature of the night, our hands furiously stroking our cocks, our backs hunched over just enough so we could reach down there. 

Lost in his dick and stroking my cock, I only slightly felt the eyes of the men watching us, their hand movements mimicking ours, their own hands stroking their dicks. Whether we thought we would or not, my lust object and I had created a gay circle jerk of sorts in this enchanted park. 

Small moans from various men reverberated off the otherwise quiet night. Rustling voices and only some noises of friction on flesh as these men and I jerked off together in the night, but still, my eyes stayed focused on my one and only; his tank top over his head showing off his toned, dark body and his athletic shorts’ waistband now hovering around his knees as he kept eye contact with me and jerked that hot hard cock.

I soon heard that familiar moan of closeness as my male object jerked his dick a little harder, and soon, a considerable splash of cum splattered in the air, eventually landing on his shorts, but mainly on the ground; maybe a drop also on his shoes.

Soon, I also came hard, my jizz landing near my feet on the grass.

Before we knew the object of our trance had drifted off, we buttoned ourselves up, and our circle dissolved, catching some men wandering off with their dick still in their hands, some tucking their members back into their pants, staggering away to find another hot scene to either watch or luckily participate in themselves.

To these men, the night was still young, but I found what I was looking for; as I pulled up and zipped my half erect and spent dick into my pants, I knew I would be back. The area of La Ciudadela is an intoxicating spot at night, where the men of Zona Rosa connect, eager to make small dreams into immense sexual satisfaction.

Discover more of Tracey Parker’s writing here.