We left the house about an hour before sundown. I was dressed simply — a tube top under a loose T-shirt, shorts, and nothing more. In my hand, folded small, was a micro mini skirt. Definitely not something I could wear out the door without raising questions from Mom.

It was a short drive — fifteen minutes, maybe — to Lakeside Ridge – Nature Trail. Locals had another name for it: The Dirty Path.

People came here for a few reasons. Some to walk. Some to watch. And some… to participate.

The trees were tall, shadowed in late-day light. The trail beyond the gravel lot led deep into the woods, splitting off into narrow branches — like a maze with secrets tucked into its corners.

Before we even opened the doors, I pulled the tube top down to my waist. Off went the shorts. I stepped out into the thick, humid air wearing nothing but the tiny micro mini, the fabric brushing high on my cheeks with every movement. No bra. No panties. Just the breeze whispering across my bare skin, teasing my nipples as they hardened in the evening air.

He rounded the car to my side, eyes roaming over me slowly. A smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Ready?”

“I was ready before we left the driveway.”

We brought nothing with us. No blanket. No water. Just tension — thick and unspoken.

The trail crunched under our shoes as we walked in silence. The deeper we went, the more charged the woods felt. Not threatening. Just… watchful. Like the trees had heard things. Held secrets. Soaked in sounds that didn’t belong to animals.

Further in, I heard voices — low, masculine. Talking. Waiting.

He led me to a clearing just off the trail. Wide and quiet, bathed in dusky light. A fallen tree stretched across the back, weathered smooth from years of use, moss curling up its base. This was the spot.

A few men were already there. Three? Maybe four. Spread out. Leaning on trees, sitting on stumps. Watching.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t need to.

He stepped behind me, placing one hand gently on my waist. The other slid down my stomach, under the skirt. His fingers found me — already wet, already open. He slipped two inside, slow and steady.

My chest was bare, nipples stiff and tingling under their gaze. I widened my stance, legs parting just a bit more.

Offering them a better view.

The men began to close the distance, their movements slow and deliberate. No words were exchanged—just subtle shifts, hands moving beneath waistbands, the unmistakable signs of growing anticipation.

He withdrew his fingers from me and brought them to my lips. I tasted myself on his skin, warm and intoxicating.

“Show them,” he whispered softly.

I stepped forward into the clearing, turning slowly in place. My bare breasts bounced gently, the micro skirt teasingly clinging to my hips and barely covering my ass. I bent at the waist, stretching the hem just enough to reveal everything beneath—my pussy glistening, already open and eager under their watchful eyes.

One of the men stepped closer.

The others followed, patient, as if savoring the moment.

They intended to take their time with me.

And I wanted every second of it.

The first man stepped right up in front of me. No hesitation. No words. I stayed bent over, hands braced on my thighs, tits swaying freely, my skirt hiked above my ass. He stood there for a second—just watching. Admiring the view: my bare chest, my glistening pussy, the way my ass curved out like I was presenting myself for him. Which I was.

He unzipped, pulled out his cock, and brushed the head across my lips. I opened up for him. His cock slid into my mouth with a groan from deep in his chest, thick and heavy on my tongue. I sucked slow at first, letting him feel my tongue dance around his head, moaning softly around his shaft.

Behind me, I felt movement. Hands. A second man had stepped up behind me. He pushed my legs apart and crouched slightly, face inches from my pussy. His tongue touched me gently at first—a warm, slow lap through my slit that made my whole body react.

I moaned around the cock in my mouth, pushed my ass back toward the one behind me, felt him spread me wider.

“You taste amazing,” I heard him mutter.

He stood up. I heard the sound of his zipper. A second later, I felt him press the head of his cock against my pussy—one slow push after another. He was inside me.

My eyes rolled back. Pinned between two men, I took one cock in my mouth and another in my pussy, grinding my hips back as I moaned—the sound buzzing around the shaft down my throat.

Others watched, stroking themselves. I made eye contact with one of them—an older man, heavyset, beard flecked with grey. He was sitting on a low stump, pants down to his ankles, cock in hand. I kept my eyes on him while the other two continued to use me.

The man behind me picked up his pace, slamming into me harder, his balls slapping me with each deep thrust. I whimpered around the one in my mouth, saliva dripping down my chin as he held my head steady.

He didn’t last long. Neither did the one behind me.

The guy fucking my mouth grunted, stiffened, and buried himself deep—then flooded my throat with a hot, bitter load. I swallowed every drop, moaning as I did, until he pulled out and let his cock slip through my lips.

Just as I caught my breath, the man behind me let out a growl and slammed deep, burying his cock inside me before I felt him flexing into me—cum spilling into my pussy in thick waves.

I was full already, and they were just the beginning.

The next two came forward wordlessly, replacing the others. One grabbed my hips roughly, aiming higher.

My ass. He wanted to fuck me in the ass!

He spit between my cheeks and pushed in slow, stretching me open, the head of his cock slowly disappearing into my asshole. My body tensed, breath caught, but I didn’t stop him. I pushed back.

The man in front of me took my mouth like the last one, but this time, he held my head tighter—fucking my face with longer, deeper thrusts, his cock nudging the back of my throat again and again until tears leaked down from the corners of my eyes.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. But I didn’t want it to end.

Why did I like this so much? Why was I not nervous or scared?

The one in my ass started slamming into me hard, making my whole body rock with each thrust. I gagged on the cock in my mouth, spit pouring out, dripping from my chin.

My pussy was dripping too—used by one man, already leaking cum down my thighs.

One of the watchers stepped in and bent down to look between my legs. I could feel his breath on me as he watched the other man fuck my ass. I could only imagine what he saw—my stretched hole gripping that cock tight, my pussy still gaping and dripping from the last load.

It was then when I felt his tongue. He was eating my freshly pied pussy.

When the guy in front of me finally came, he didn’t give a warning—just groaned, shoved deep, and shot several ropes into my mouth.

I swallowed like it was instinct. A want, maybe more of a need.

He stepped back.

The man in my ass was still going—harder now, rougher, hands tight on my hips. My whole body jerked with each brutal thrust until finally, he slammed in and stayed there, his cock pumping me full of cum, as deep inside me as he could get.

I gasped, back arching.

I was becoming a mess—cum in both holes, tears ruining my makeup, tits swinging.

I giggled. The night was just getting started.

More men stepped into the clearing.

No one was in a rush — just slowly surrounding me like they’d been waiting for the signal, watching the first few use me like a warmup act. Several faces I didn’t know. None of them invited, but all of them here for me.

My skirt was up around my waist, sticking to my hips. My tits were hanging, nipples hard, covered with spit, mouth still open, face streaked with makeup and a little cum. My pussy and ass were already bred from earlier, both well used.

And I wanted more, I needed more!

One man stepped in front of me and grabbed my jaw. He didn’t say anything—he just looked at my lips, saw how full they were, and slid his thumb into my mouth.

I sucked it.

He smiled.

Then he pulled out his cock and aimed it straight at my mouth.

I opened for him.

He started slow, letting me work my tongue along the shaft, feeling the veins, the weight. I moaned around it, eyes rolling as I felt someone else behind me again—hands on my hips, thumbs spreading my ass apart.

Another cock pushed against my pussy, thicker than the last. My tongue danced around the one in my mouth as I felt myself stretch again,  and I was ready.

Two more men stood nearby, stroking their cocks as they watched. One stepped forward and ran his hand over my head, grabbing a fistful of hair and guiding my mouth deeper onto the shaft in front of me.

“Your mouth feels amazing,” the man grunted.

The one in my pussy leaned in, grunting, “And this pussy still sloppy from the last load. Perfect.”

I moaned for them. I was past dignity. I just wanted to be used.

Another man came around the side and knelt. He didn’t touch me. He just leaned in and watched where I was stretched around the cock inside me. Then, without warning, he stuck out his tongue and licked up the line of cum dripping out of me. He followed it up to my clit and flicked it with his tongue.

That nearly made me collapse.

The man in my mouth suddenly stiffened and groaned, pulling out just in time to shoot a hot load all over my face. My cheeks,  across my nose, my hair, and even got in my lashes.

I had to laugh at the amount of cum he painted me with.

Next man in line stepped up and smeared the cum on my lips with the head of his cock.

“Filthy fucking slut,” he growled, sliding into my mouth without asking.

Behind me, the guy fucking me leaned in, wrapped an arm around my waist, and thrust faster—balls slapping my clit, thick grunts rolling from his chest.

Then he slammed in hard, staying deep, and I felt the rush. His cum pumped inside me again. My knees buckled, but the man in front of me held my head steady while he fucked my face.

When the guy behind me pulled out, another stepped right in—but this time, he lined up with my ass.

“Your ass ok?” he asked. “Or should I use that pussy more?”

I just looked back and nodded, ass in the air.

He spit between my cheeks and pushed in.

I gasped—he was the thickest yet. It burned. Stretched me open so wide I whimpered into the cock in my mouth, which only made the man in front of me want more.

“She likes it in the ass,” he said, looking around.

“Fuck yes she does,” someone else muttered.

The man fucking my ass gripped my hips and started pounding me, fast and relentless. I had no control left—drool spilling out of my mouth, spit and cum mixing across my chin, eyes barely able to focus.

I could feel the mess leaking from my pussy down my thighs.

Another man came around and knelt in front of me. Not to fuck. Just to add his mark.

“I want that hair sticky.”

He aimed low and stroked himself quickly. Within seconds, he groaned and let go—his cum landing in my hair, rope after rope, soaking into the strands like glue.

“Fuck yes,” I whispered around the cock in my mouth.

The guy fucking my face pulled out just in time to finish on my tits, cum striping across them in long white lines.

Then the man in my ass groaned loudly and slammed one final time. I felt it all — the stretch, the pulsing, the flood of cum deep inside my guts.

But he didn’t pull out.

Instead, he grabbed a handful of my hair and turned me around, while he slowly slid out of my ass.

“Ass-to-mouth,” he said. “Open up!”

He pushed my face back toward his spent cock — still slick, still dripping with cum — and I opened my mouth like it was natural. I sucked the tip, tongue swirling over the taste of both of us.

“Good girl,” the one behind me said, slapping my ass.

Two men were still standing off to the side, cocks hard, watching the wreck I’d become. One of them stepped in and pushed his cock into my pussy without a word.

He fucked me slow. Controlled. Watching the others while he used me.

The final man — the one who’d been watching since the beginning, the quiet one with the calm eyes — hadn’t moved yet. He just stood there, arms crossed, taking it all in.

I stared at him while another cock pumped into me.

My face was covered, my tits glazed, my hair thick with cum. I had spit running down my chin and my ass still leaking from the last creampie.

He just kept watching.

I think he wanted to be the last for some reason. 

The man fucking me slow and deliberately took his time. Like he was was savoring every second he was inside of me. 

Several minutes later, his balls emptied and spilled his load into my pussy. 

Once finished,  he stepped back, his cock falling from me, and his load dripping out of me to the ground below.

The others had stepped back, quietly pulling their pants up, lingering for just a moment to admire the aftermath before disappearing back into the woods one by one — like ghosts that had used me and left me broken open for the man.

My back was sore, my hair matted, tits streaked with drying cum. My pussy and ass were leaking — visibly. Thick globs slowly oozed out of me, sliding down my inner thighs. I was a dripping, shaking mess.

And he still hadn’t moved.

The quiet one. The one who watched it all.

He finally stepped forward, deliberate, controlled — not like the others who took what they wanted fast and hard. He stood in front of me, his face calm. Eyes full of something between reverence and possession.

“Look at you,” he said softly, brushing a sticky strand of hair out of my face. “Completely used. Just the way you wanted.”

I nodded, lips slightly parted, breathing shallow.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Right where someone else’s cum had dried.

Then lower. My jaw. My neck.

His hand slid down to my breasts, slowly rubbing the cum across my nipples with his palm, spreading it like oil. I shivered.

“Let’s clean you up,” he whispered.

He pushed me back gently. My back was against a tree, back arched. His hands went to my knees, parting them slowly, exposing everything — my ruined holes, the dripping mess.

He didn’t go for his cock.

He leaned down and started to lick.

First, my pussy.

Long, flat licks from bottom to top — tasting the others on me. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. He sucked on my clit, tongue teasing around the lips, diving in deep to tongue the cum out of me. I moaned, head rolling to the side.

He pushed two fingers in and curled them, fucking the cum deeper for a second — then pulled them out and licked them clean.

“You taste like sin,” he whispered.

Then he turned me around.

He spread my ass gently, licking up the mess that had leaked from earlier. His tongue trailed lower and lower until it pressed directly against my asshole. I gasped.

He didn’t stop.

He licked it slowly, firmly, groaning as he tasted the last man’s load still inside me. His tongue slipped just barely in — and I shook.

I couldn’t believe how gentle he was. How deliberate.

He kissed the back of my thighs, my inner knees, worked his way back up to my chest, and took one cum-covered nipple into his mouth, sucking it like he needed the taste.

Then he stood up.

His cock was out — finally — hard and veined and angry-looking. He stroked it over my belly, between my tits, across my messy face. My lips parted for him automatically.

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

I looked up, blinking cum from my lashes. “Mouth.”

He smiled. “Good girl.”

He fed it to me slowly. I sucked the tip, then down the shaft. He didn’t rush. He watched me take it, watched my throat flex, my eyes flutter.

I reached between my legs and fingered myself with two slippery fingers, still stretched, still full. I brought them up to his mouth and he sucked them clean while he fucked my throat.

That did it.

He groaned, held my head still, and pumped thick shots of cum directly onto my tongue.

But I didn’t swallow.

I held it.

Pulled back.

Looked into his eyes — and leaned forward.

He opened his mouth for me.

And I spit his load straight into his mouth.

He swallowed every drop.

Then licked the corner of his lips.

And smiled.

“You’re perfect,” he said. “Fucking perfect.”

My brother helped me sit up, then stand. My knees wobbled. My body was a wreck. My thighs were sticky, my ass raw, my jaw sore.

We didn't bother pulling my skirt down or my tube top up.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and walked me back toward the car, still half-naked, still dripping.

“I hope they invite us back,” I said, voice hoarse.

He laughed.

“After what you gave them?” he said. “They’ll be begging for it.”

The air felt cooler now — not cold, just sharper, like it had seen too much.

The car was just ahead when I spotted them.

Two men, walking the trail toward us — maybe a hundred feet away. Talking, laughing, casual. Shirts off, athletic shorts, trail shoes, sunglasses — they looked like they were just out for an evening hike.

And then we...