My Last Days with the Truck Driver Who Was Twice My Age

I woke up with my cheek resting on Ramón’s arm. I was naked, pressed against his side, and yet I felt strangely comfortable, as if I had been waking up there for years. I shifted just enough to stretch my back and woke him by accident.

“Good morning, Marina. Did you sleep well?” he murmured, his voice still husky.

“Wonderfully. And you?”

“Like a log,” he chuckled softly.

I rested my hand on his chest and looked at him the way you look at someone you wake up beside every morning. It was odd to even think it: this man was twice my age, and yet that morning there was nothing awkward between us.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No. I feel like going back to sleep.”

“We can’t. We’ve already delayed too long, and your family is waiting for you.”

“It’s fine, they’ll understand.”

“I’m not so sure, but I don’t want to make them angry. Come on.”

We got up and got dressed. While he went down to the service station to buy something to eat, I took the chance to shower. When I got back to the truck, Ramón was already changed, had eaten breakfast, and had even tidied up the bunk. He left me a sandwich in the passenger seat and, without wasting any more time, started the engine.

We got back on the road. I ate in silence, watching the dry landscape race by on the other side of the glass. The sandwich was made differently from the day before, with a touch I couldn’t quite identify, but I liked it.

“How was it?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

“Delicious, thanks.”

A few long seconds passed. Then he cleared his throat.

“Hey… how was last night?”

“It was good, right?”

“For me it was amazing. For you?”

“I think you already know,” I said, and we both laughed.

“One question,” he went on. “Why didn’t you finish?”

“I needed a little more. But you did, and it was incredible.”

“Sorry for leaving you like that. I got carried away.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I’d had an idea turning over in my head since I opened my eyes that morning, and it seemed like the perfect excuse.

“Look, I already know how to fix that,” he said before I could.

Without stopping, he unfastened his shorts and let them drop to the pedals before kicking them aside.

“You can make me finish now and we’ll be even.”

“Are you serious?”

“There it is, if you feel like it.”

“And if I distract you?”

“I’ve got everything under control. What do you say?”

The idea sent a tingle through my stomach. I unbuckled my seat belt, knelt in the narrow space in front of his seat, and settled myself between his legs. He could keep working the pedals without a problem; the truck rolled smoothly along an endless straightaway.

I took him in my hand and started slowly, without rushing. Ramón kept both hands on the wheel and every so often glanced down at me. Each time our eyes met, we both smiled with the same mischief. I ran my tongue over him, kissed him, wetted him all over before taking him into my mouth. I pushed a little farther with each motion, rose to the tip, gathered saliva, and came back down.

Having him like that aroused me more than I expected, though I wasn’t looking for anything for myself: I was happy on my knees, feeling him breathe differently. He must have felt like a king, sprawled with his legs open while he drove.

“I don’t even feel hot anymore, it feels so cool down there,” he teased, stroking my head with one hand.

I lost all track of time. I don’t know how many minutes I stayed like that, hypnotized by the rhythm of the engine and my own determination to make it happen. What pulled me out of it was my phone vibrating on the dashboard.

“I think it’s yours,” he said.

I sat up. It was my mother.

“It’s my mom.”

“Answer it.”

I picked up, trying to sound normal. She asked where we were, whether it would be long. I told her we were still on the road and looked at Ramón, asking him for an estimate with my eyes.

“Tell her you’ll be with them early tomorrow,” he whispered.

“Ramón says we’ll arrive early tomorrow,” I repeated.

My mother protested: we’d already delayed too long, my father was already home waiting. I promised we’d hurry and hung up.

I looked at the time and nearly fell out of the seat: it was six in the evening. We’d left at eleven in the morning. I’d lost the whole afternoon without even realizing it.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah. She says we’ve taken too long already.”

“Well, we did get up ridiculously late.”

“Are we really going to get there early tomorrow?”

“I’ll take care of that,” he said with such confidence that I believed him.

He went quiet for a moment and then said, amused:

“Hey, and are you going to keep going with what you were doing? Or have you given up?”

“I’m not giving up. It’s just that you never finish, no matter what.”

“You have to put in the effort. Don’t think it’s that easy.”

“A real trooper, are you?”

“I’m not holding back: I’m letting it go until you make it happen,” he said, and laughed again.

I accepted the challenge. I got back between his legs, this time with both hands, and even then I could barely wrap around him. I went up and down, but I already knew it would take forever. I wanted to beat his little game, I wanted to hear him lose control. So I changed tactics.

Without fully standing up, I slid my shorts down until I took them off. I left them beside the pedals, next to my sandals. When I straightened, Ramón saw me from the waist down and his eyes lit up.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“Shut up. I’m going to make you finish.”

“Works for me.”

I turned my back to him and sat on his lap, shifting myself a little to the left so he could still see the road. Slowly, on my own, I guided him inside me. That first instant when he slid in drew a long sigh from me; I braced myself against his thighs and started moving, taking him out and back in at my own pace.

To be more comfortable, he reclined in the seat, his right hand on the wheel and his other arm resting on the armrest. I rode him for several minutes. My gasps and the hum of the engine were the only sounds. It was already getting dark, and the truck’s lights hid what was happening inside the cab from the rest of the road.

Every time I lowered myself all the way, I felt a shiver race up my back. I wanted to win, but by the ten-minute mark I was the one starting to lose. I was close, too close, and I stopped pretending that this was only for him. I sank all the way down and rocked myself, trying to feel him completely.

“Ah… ah… I’m going to come,” I gasped.

“That’s it, go on,” he murmured, gripping my hip.

I came with my whole body trembling, clenching around him, and I stayed seated on him, catching my breath.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Yes… I love how it feels.”

“You squeeze deliciously. But you’re done and I’m not yet.”

As soon as he said it, I started moving again, even though the previous orgasm had left my legs weak. I bounced faster, harder, feeling the burn in my thighs, determined to beat him. It was no use: I was the one who came a second time, selfishly, leaning back against his chest while he laughed softly.

“I came again…” I admitted, defeated, looking at him over my shoulder.

“And I love it when you do,” he said, kissing my temple. “But let’s do something better.”

***

It was seven thirty when he stopped at another service station. He parked the truck facing a barrier where no one could see us, turned off the engine, and left the keys on the dashboard. With his hands on my waist, he led me to the rear bunk and drew the curtain.

With my back to him, I felt him tip me face down onto the bed. His hands gripped my hips and, without further warning, he came in all at once. Everything was already so slick that he slid in effortlessly. I felt his full weight over me, his feet barely brushing the cab floor. It was pure strength, one thrust after another that left me unable to speak.

“Do you like it? This is what you wanted, right?” he said against the back of my neck.

I couldn’t answer him. I clung to the sheet, holding on through that exact point between pain and pleasure that was dragging me under again. The tingling became unbearable; my legs no longer responded.

“Okay, okay… please,” I managed to beg.

“You wanted me to finish? Then hold on a little longer.”

I came again, without restraint, and he didn’t stop. My orgasm seemed endless until I heard him let out a deep groan, different from all the others.

“I’m going to come…” he gasped.

He pulled out suddenly and I felt all his heat spill over my lower back, his fingers digging into my hip. He stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing as if he’d run miles, before letting himself collapse to the side.

“There you go,” he said between breaths. “Everything I had saved up for you.”

I stayed face down for a long while, drained, feeling my legs hot and shaking. Ramón handed me a bottle of water, got dressed, and climbed down from the truck. I lay there for half an hour, letting my body become mine again.

When he came back, he brought dinner.

“You should go take a shower,” he said, amused. “Tomorrow you won’t be able to until I drop you off at home.”

I did as I was told. I changed my blouse, gathered my things from under the steering wheel, and went to the station showers. I felt strange, distant from myself, but good. When I came back, we ate in silence and Ramón suggested we sleep right away: he had to get up early to drop me off in time. In seconds we were both out cold.

I felt him wake up around four in the morning and start the truck in the middle of the dark. I was still sleepy, so I let myself be rocked by the rattling and fell asleep again.

***

I woke up after eight. I moved to the passenger seat, still disheveled.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Look, we’re almost there.”

We had entered a city. In the distance, I recognized the hills surrounding my parents’ town.

“In twenty minutes you’ll be with your family.”

“Okay… so, we’re not going to see each other again?”

“I don’t know. Would you like that?”

“I tend to get attached to people very quickly, so…”

“I get it,” he laughed. “I can give you my number and we can meet up one day when you’re free, if you want.”

“Do you live near where I live?”

“No, but I’m always around that area for work. I agreed to come all the way out here only because your dad is a friend and he paid me very well.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

He wrote down his number for me and I went into the cab to gather my clothes and things. Twenty minutes later, just as he’d promised, he stopped in front of the house. I knocked and my mother opened the door with one of my aunts, both of them smiling. My mother wrinkled her nose: I smelled like travel, like miles of road clinging to me. My father came out and complained about the delay.

“Why the long delay?” he asked Ramón.

“We stopped every night at the service stations to rest,” he answered calmly, not so much as twitching a muscle.

My father nodded, satisfied, and then, with me standing beside him, asked:

“Did she give you any trouble?”

Ramón looked at me for a second before answering.

“Not at all. She behaved very well.”

“You should pay for his dinners and breakfasts,” I cut in, biting back a laugh.

They both laughed. I went into the house while my father stayed outside talking with him a little longer. At last I could take a proper bath, wash my hair, and feel clean after an entire week.

I spent those days with my family, but I couldn’t get Ramón out of my head. One afternoon, almost without thinking, I texted him. We started with the usual “hi, how are you?” and the conversation flowed on its own. He told me he was already back home. I confessed that I had had an incredible time with him, that he had truly made me feel safe the entire trip. He replied that he’d love for us to see each other one day, just the two of us, with no pressure, to get to know each other better.

And even though he was twice my age, that no longer mattered to me. That man had given me one of the best trips of my life, and I had no doubt I’d do it again without thinking twice.