It was a summer night, with the sticky heat of the asphalt still floating in the air. I had stopped at a rest area on the A-3, halfway to nowhere, with my motorcycle leaning against a half-broken lamppost. The place was deserted, except for a huge truck parked in the back, with its lights off and a low rumble, as if the engine was still alive.

I sat down on a bench to smoke a cigarette, with my sweaty t-shirt stuck to my body. Then I saw him get out of the truck. A big guy, one of those who fills the space just by being there. Unkempt beard, grease-stained tank top, arms like tree trunks, and a gaze that pierced through me. He approached with a slow pace, as if the world belonged to him, and stood in front of me.

"What are you doing here alone, huh?" he said with a deep voice, dragging his words. He scratched his neck, looking me up and down as if I were a piece of meat. "This isn't a place for guys like you, who are looking for trouble with that look."

I didn't answer, I just held his gaze. There was something in his tone, in that mix of swagger and contempt, that ignited me. He took another step closer, so close that I could smell the sweat mixed with stale tobacco.

"Do you like being looked at?" he spat, with a crooked smile. "Because I'm not one of those who just looks and does nothing. If you're here, it's because you want something, right? Come on, don't play hard to get, I know how guys like you are."

I stood up from the bench, more out of instinct than anything else, and he laughed, as if my reaction gave him the reason. He was a macho pig, one of those who thinks that every man who isn't like him is less of a man. But damn, there was something in the way he spoke, in that disgusting confidence, that turned me on.

"Come on, to the truck," he ordered, pointing with his head towards his metal beast. "I don't have all night to waste on fairy tales."

I don't know why I followed him. Maybe it was because I wanted to prove something to him, or because the heat of the night had my head cloudy. We climbed into the truck's cabin, a den filled with empty beer cans and the smell of old leather. He closed the door with a sharp bang and, without saying a word, pushed me against the copilot's seat.

"Take that off," he growled, pointing to my t-shirt. "And don't make me wait, I'm not here for princess games."

I did it, quickly, while he unfastened his belt with one hand, without stopping to look at me. His voice was pure venom, each word loaded with contempt and raw desire.

"Look at yourself, damn, all shaved and with a good boy face," he said, getting closer until his breath burned my skin. "But you like this, huh? That a guy like me gives it to you. Come on, take off your pants, I'm going to give you what you're looking for."

There were no preliminaries, no caresses, no crap like that. It was direct, brutal, as if he wanted to make it clear who was in ch...