I Lied to My Husband to Spend Fifteen Days with a Truck Driver

Renata had spent eight years signing off on other people’s balance sheets and always sleeping on the left side of the bed. Thirty-four years old, an accountant, a neat apartment in Caballito, and a husband, Esteban, who was exactly what her mother had dreamed for her: an architect, punctual, incapable of raising his voice. Also incapable, for a long time now, of looking at her as if he were hungry.

Sex was on Saturdays, with the lights off, brief and polite. Esteban would climb on top of her, penetrate her with three or four measured thrusts, come in silence, and fall asleep. She would lie there staring at the ceiling, her cunt barely damp, feeling the warm semen trickle between her thighs like a notarial record. One more errand among the many she sorted out during the week. That was why, when insomnia drove her out of bed, she would open her laptop in the kitchen and become someone else. On the forums she was Morena_Sur, a woman without a last name or a mortgage, who wrote things she would never have dared say out loud.

She met him in a raw chat room. He called himself RutaLarga48: long-haul trucker, owner of his own Volvo, forty-eight years old, with a way of writing that asked for no permission. Renata, whose most intense contact in months had been the brush of a hand when passing a file, felt a tug in her stomach as she read him.

—A classy accountant who wants a real man —he wrote that first night—. Do you know what you’re missing, or do I have to explain it to you?

—Explain it to me —she typed back. And she deleted the word “please” three times before sending it.

—You’re missing a cock that can break you. A thick, veiny cock that makes you open your mouth before you open your cunt. You’re missing having your hair grabbed and being put on your knees. You’re missing swallowing another man’s cum and asking for more. That’s what you’re missing, accountant.

Renata read the words three times. Without realizing it, she had slipped her hand inside her pajamas and was rubbing herself with her middle finger, slow circles over her swollen clit. She was soaking wet. The kitchen chair stuck to her naked ass when she lowered her pants to her knees.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all, and that was exactly what kept her awake.

The following nights turned into a ritual. Esteban snored on the other side of the wall and she, barefoot on the cold tile, let a stranger tell her what he was going to do to her. He used no euphemisms. He talked about the truck bunk, the smell of diesel, about having her fifteen whole days away from her orderly life, with her tits out and her legs always open. He described how he was going to fuck her in the ass the first time, slowly, all the way in, just to hear her moan. He told her he was going to cum on her face and take a photo so he could remember it. And she, instead of closing the screen, asked when.

—I’ve got a trip to Mendoza next week —he wrote one dawn—. I’ll pick you up at the gas station in Cañuelas. You get in and you’re mine until I drop you off in the same place. Are you game, or are you still your architect’s wife?

Renata stared at the blinking cursor. Then she typed yes.

***

The lie was almost as exciting as the plan. To Esteban, her mother, and her two coworkers at the office, she said the same thing: she’d won a surprise scholarship from the accountants’ association, a fifteen-day training course in Mendoza, all expenses paid. She forged an email, invented a hotel booking that didn’t exist, and tucked the fake receipt into a folder in case anyone asked. No one did. That ease both scared her and turned her on.

The night before, she packed a small backpack: black lace underwear, two pairs of jeans, a short skirt. While she closed it, her hands trembled. You still have time not to go, she thought. But she was already wet just thinking about it.

On Thursday she ordered a car, and during the ride along the highway he sent her messages that made her clamp her thighs together in the back seat. He asked for photos, ordered her around—“Take your panties off now, put them in your purse, I want your cunt out when you get on”—and detailed exactly what would happen as soon as she climbed into the cab. Renata answered in monosyllables so the driver wouldn’t notice anything, but her pulse was pounding in her throat. When a sigh slipped out too audibly, the man looked at her in the rearview mirror and asked if everything was all right. She apologized, said she’d remembered a chore, and tucked the phone back between her legs. The denim brushed her bare clit with every bump.

***

Darío—that was his real name—looked nothing like the polished fantasy she had built. Shorter than she’d imagined, broad-shouldered, with a hard belly and huge hands stained with grease. He smelled of black tobacco and hours on the road. When Renata climbed into the Volvo cab, among metallic noises and the engine’s idle hum, he didn’t kiss her. He looked her over slowly, top to bottom, like someone assessing a load.

—So it’s really you —he said, with a half smile—. I thought you were lying in the photos.

The calm vulgarity of his voice turned her on more than any caress. Renata nodded without speaking.

—I make the rules here —he went on, shifting gears—. You got in, now you take the trip. When I say so, you open your legs and you shut up. Clear?

—Yes —she murmured.

—Yes what.

—Yes, sir.

He let out a low laugh and pulled away. The city receded in the mirror, first the lights, then nothing. Twenty kilometers later, without taking his eyes off the road, he laid his right hand on her thigh and slid it up to her crotch. He found the wet jeans and smiled.

—You’re already lubed up, look at that. Take your pants off. I want to drive with my hand on your cunt.

Renata fumbled with the jeans, unbuttoning them with unsteady fingers, and pulled them down to her knees. He shoved two thick, rough fingers into her soaked cunt. He moved them with the same cadence he used to change gears, in and out, without looking at her, while the landscape turned black outside. Renata clutched the seat and bit her lip. When she came, fifty kilometers later, it was with a long spasm that made her squeeze his fingers between her legs. Darío took them into his mouth and sucked each one, never taking his eyes off the road.

—Good opening —he said—. Let’s see how you keep up.

***

The first night he parked the truck in a deserted stretch, far from any town, where all you could hear was the wind against the sheet metal and the engine cooling down. He switched off the headlights and left on a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. Only then did he turn toward the bunk, where she was waiting.

—Take everything off —he said—. I want to see you properly before we start.

Renata undressed with clumsy fingers. The T-shirt, the bra, the skirt, the lace she had chosen so carefully. She ended up kneeling naked in that tiny space, the thin mattress under her knees. The night cold stuck to her skin, but the heat she felt was different. Her nipples stood hard and dark, and he looked at them for a long moment before speaking.

He sat on the edge, still dressed, boots on, and lit a cigarette without taking his eyes off her.

—Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat it —he said, in a gravelly voice—. You’re not my girlfriend or some romantic fling. You’re mine for fifteen days. That means when I say “come here,” you come. No “slower,” no “I don’t like that.” You call me sir, or Darío if you behave. And if at any point you start thinking this is love, I’ll drop you at the next station and you can go back to your husband. Understood?

Renata swallowed. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought he might hear it. She felt a hot trickle running down her thigh.

—Understood —she said—. Use me however you want.

Darío crushed the cigarette in a tin and unbuckled his belt. He pushed his pants down to his knees. The cock that emerged hung thick, dark, with a dense patch of black hair around it. It was semi-hard and even like that it looked twice the size of Esteban’s.

—Come here. On your knees, right there on the floor. With your mouth. And no hands.

Renata climbed down from the bunk and knelt between his muddy boots. She took his cock into her mouth, first the tip, and felt it harden against her tongue. He grabbed her hair with both hands and pushed his cock deeper and deeper, without haste but without permission, until he drove it into her throat. Renata coughed, tears filled her eyes, a thread of saliva dripped from her chin down to her tits.

—Swallow it. Breathe through your nose and swallow it. That’s it, good girl.

He fucked her mouth for long minutes, his hand firm on the back of her neck, making a wet, obscene sound every time she arched her throat. Saliva ran down her chest and soaked her nipples. When he pulled out, Renata was panting with her mouth open, lips swollen, a glossy trail from her chin down to her navel.

—Up. On your back. Open your legs wide.

He pushed her onto the bunk. He spread her thighs with his knees and buried his face between them. He ate her cunt hungrily, with his whole tongue, sucking her clit and sliding two fingers into her at the same time. His thick beard scraped the insides of her thighs until they were red. Renata clutched the sheet, the low ceiling, whatever she could, and came screaming in less than two minutes, her hips lifting on their own against his mouth.

—You’re not done yet —he said, climbing on top of her—. We’re just getting started.

He drove his cock in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt. Renata let out a hoarse howl that made the cab tremble. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head, then fucked her with hard, dry thrusts that made her bang her head against the truck wall. He talked into her ear the whole time.

—That’s how you like it, isn’t it? With a real cock inside you. Say it. Say you like it.

—I like it, sir. I love it. Don’t stop.

—What are you?

—Yours. I’m yours. I’m a slut. Your slut.

He flipped her over as if she weighed nothing, put her on all fours on the bunk, and gripped her hips with both hands. He shoved it into her from behind again, in one hard drive, and started fucking her in that position with his whole cock coming in and out, shining with her wetness. With one hand he seized her hair and pulled her head back. With the other he slapped her ass hard enough to leave a red mark. Renata moaned without shame, her tits hanging and her nipples brushing the sheet. She felt his thumb, wet with his own saliva and her juices, pressing against her asshole. He didn’t enter her yet, only held it there, invading her with the promise.

—That’s going to be mine too before Friday —he announced—. You’re going to learn to take it in the ass and say thank you.

—Yes, sir.

He fucked her like that until she came a second time, squeezing his cock in spasms. Only then did he let go. He pulled his cock out of her cunt and came on her back and ass, thick, hot spurts running down to her waist. Then he rubbed them over her skin with the head of his cock, marking her, and fed her his cum-smeared fingers. Renata sucked them without hesitation.

When he was done, he collapsed beside her on the narrow bunk and held her from behind, almost like a trophy. He squeezed one breast with his calloused hand.

—Sleep like this —he whispered in her ear—. We’ll continue tomorrow. This is only the beginning.

Renata closed her eyes with her body aching, her back sticky, and a secret smile. Outside, the road was black and endless. Inside that cab, smelling of sex and diesel, she had stopped being Esteban’s wife.

***

The days took on a perverse routine. They drove for hours, stopped to eat milanesa sandwiches at roadside stands, and Darío told raw stories from his life: fights at rest stops, nights of extreme cold, women who had gone up and down that very cab. Renata, spellbound, absorbed every word. In exchange, on the long stretches, she confessed her darkest fantasies, the ones she had never told anyone. Often she told him while she was sucking his cock, kneeling between the seat and the gearshift, with him driving at seventy-five miles an hour and one hand on her neck setting the rhythm.

In a shoddy boarding house near Río Cuarto she lived through the first long night within four walls. Squeaky bed, damp in the corners, a single yellow bulb. He dropped into a chair with a flask of whiskey and made her undress standing, watching her without touching her, until the waiting itself became unbearable.

—Touch yourself —he ordered, taking a swig—. I want to see how you get yourself going. Put two fingers in.

Renata obeyed, standing in the middle of the room with her legs apart. She shoved two fingers into her cunt while with her other hand she stroked one breast and pinched her nipple. He watched her in silence for several minutes, drinking slowly, until he saw her on the verge of coming.

—Stop. You’re not coming yet. Turn around.

He bent her over the edge of the bed, ass high in the air. He spread her butt cheeks with both hands and spit on her asshole. He circled his thumb over it again and again until he felt it relax. Then he brought a jar of cream from the backpack and smeared the hole, and his own cock, with two fingers.

—Take a deep breath and don’t move. If you move, you’ll hurt yourself. Relax.

He pressed the head of his cock against her ass and started to push. Renata felt immense pressure, a burn, an instinct to run forward that he smothered by gripping her waist. He worked his way in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, until he felt her open and give. When he was all the way in, he stayed still.

—There. Like that. Hold it. Feel me.

Renata bit the bedspread, eyes squeezed shut, body shaking. The pain morphed into a new, dense sensation that climbed her spine. He began to move slowly, in short thrusts, and slid one hand under her to work her clit with two fingers while he fucked her in the ass. The combination drove her wild. She found herself pushing back on him, asking for more, deeper, harder.

—Look at that. The little accountant turned into an ass slut in one night.

He sped up. The bed creaked, the wall thudded, the lamp shook. Renata came with his cock in her ass, clenching around it in spasms, screaming into the bedspread so as not to wake the whole block. Darío came inside a minute later with a long grunt, emptying himself into her. When he pulled out, she felt his cum seeping warm between her thighs.

That night she learned to take him in a way her marriage had never explored, discovering that the line between pain and pleasure was far thinner than she had thought. When he finished, Renata lay face down, trembling, legs spread, breath coming in short gasps.

—You fucked me so hard —she whispered, voice rough—. But I love it. You make me feel different.

Darío let out a deep laugh and slapped her reddened ass cheeks.

—That’s what you are now —he said—. And there’s still more to come.

***

The next morning, the boarding house owner intercepted her in the hallway. A woman in her fifties, sturdy, with dyed hair and a stained apron. She looked at Renata with a smile that knew too much.

—You’re the new one, right? The one Darío brought in last night —she said, crossing her arms—. I’ve known him for years. Always comes through here with a woman like you. Slim, city girls, looks like they wouldn’t break a plate. Last night we heard everything, huh. Don’t play saint with me.

Renata blushed and lowered her gaze.

—Don’t think you’re special, dear —the woman went on, almost motherly—. You’re just one more on the list. But I’ll give you some advice: enjoy it while it lasts. When he gets tired of you, he’ll drop you at whatever station and that’ll be that. Don’t look back.

The words hit her like slaps. She felt shame, absurd jealousy, and underneath it all a twisted excitement at imagining herself as one more link in that chain. When she climbed back into the truck, Darío glanced at her sideways.

—What did the lady say?

—Nothing —she lied, with a faint smile—. That she likes you very much.

He laughed and pulled away.

***

One scorching afternoon, on a dirt road lost between San Luis and the mountains, Darío decided to fulfill one of the fantasies they had cooked up in the chats. He stopped in a dusty clearing where the sun fell like melted lead. He made her get down, pressed her against the hot fender, and tore her clothes off right there, out in the open. He pulled off her T-shirt, unhooked her bra, dragged her skirt down to her ankles. He pinched her nipples until they were hard and purple. Then he took two steps back and left her like that, exposed to the dry wind and to nothing, while he looked at her unhurriedly, drinking from a bottle of fernet.

—Spread yourself —he said—. With two fingers. I want to see that cunt open from here.

Renata spread her cunt lips with two fingers, her back against the burning metal that seared her skin. Road dust stuck to her sweat. He came closer, crouched down, and ran his whole tongue over her, bottom to top, never taking his eyes off hers. He ate her out there against the fender, her legs trembling, until she came with a cry that vanished into the dry immensity of the field.

Then he stood up, unzipped his pants, and made her turn around. He set her facing the truck, hands on the hot hood, and fucked her from behind under the merciless sun. He took her like that for a long while, without haste, with deep thrusts, while she panted with her cheek pressed to the metal and dust clinging to her sweaty skin. When he was about to finish, he turned her around again, put her on her knees in the dirt, and came on her face. Thick spurts landed on her forehead, lips, chin, tits. Renata kept her mouth open and her tongue out, obedient. She had never felt so animal, so free from the neat woman who signed tax reports.

But it wasn’t all roughness. In the days that followed, Darío taught her to change a tire, guiding her hands over the tools with a patience she hadn’t expected. On the straight, empty stretches he let her sit behind the wheel, and Renata—the orderly accountant who had once been afraid even of traffic on 9 de Julio—felt the raw power of the engine vibrating under her palms. And some nights, after leaving her breathless, he would hold her in the bunk and fall asleep against her neck, as if that marked body were the only thing anchoring him to anything.

***

The night she crossed the point of no return was in San Rafael. In a smoke-filled roadside bar, Darío ran into Maxi, a Uruguayan trucker with an easy laugh and hungry eyes. After several beers and filthy talk, Darío looked at her with shining eyes and, without fully asking her, suggested they share her.

—Tonight I’ve got her covered —he told Maxi, slinging an arm over his shoulder—. She’s good. Sucks like a goddess and knows what to do with her ass.

Renata lowered her gaze to the glass, feeling her cheeks and her panties burning at the same time. In the motel room, with two twin beds and a bad light, the two men sat there watching her as she undressed. Then they called her over. She knelt between them and sucked their cocks in turn, taking one in each hand, moving from one mouthful to another without a pause. They pulled her hair, laughed over her head, compared her.

—Look at that fucking bitch suck.

—You can tell she likes it. Go on, choke on it a little.

They threw her onto the bed. Maxi lay back and sat her on his cock, while Darío positioned himself behind her. He spat on her ass, spread it with two fingers, and shoved in as well, all the way. Renata felt both cocks inside her at once, separated only by a thin wall of flesh, and thought she would split in two. They fucked her like that together, in sync, while she dangled between them like an open doll. They used her in turn, called her every name under the sun, laughed over her head. They changed positions several times—on her knees sucking one while the other fucked her from behind, on her back with Maxi on top and Darío putting it in her mouth beside him, on all fours with one in front and one behind—until both came almost at the same time, one in her ass and one in her mouth. And she, in the vertigo of that degradation she had chosen, felt absolute freedom. She was no one anymore but a body surrendered to the rawest desire, without guilt and without a proper name.

When Maxi left, near dawn, Darío held her and fucked her again on his own, slowly, almost tenderly, as if reclaiming her for himself.

***

The fifteen days—which ended up being sixteen—came to a close at the same gas station where everything had begun. The truck was loaded for the return trip, but Renata would not be getting back on. She climbed down from the cab with every muscle aching, every bruise like a secret medal. Darío got down too and, in an unexpected gesture, brushed her cheek with the back of his calloused hand.

—You’re a tough one —he said, not smiling—. Take care of yourself.

There were no promises, no plans for another meeting. Only the clean bluntness of a goodbye between two people who had given each other exactly what they needed.

Renata took a taxi back to Caballito. The next day she returned to the office, adjusted balance sheets with a steady hand, and smiled at Esteban when he asked about the scholarship. No one suspected anything; the lie had been perfect. But something had changed forever.

The woman who signed tax reports was the same one who, in the privacy of her home, closed her eyes and remembered the weight of a man on top of her, the taste of another man’s cum in her mouth, the feel of leather against burning skin, two cocks at once opening her in a motel room. The trip had not been a simple escape. In the harshness of the road she had found a part of herself as real as her university degree. It had not corrupted her: it had completed her, leaving a mark as deep as fingerprints on her hips. A mark she would remember every time Esteban climbed on top of her on Saturdays, brief and polite, and she, eyes closed, slipped her fingers into her mouth to remember what a real cock tasted like.