Men who don’t talk much. Men who work, sweat, smoke, fuck. Real men—sometimes rough, sometimes silent, always charged with the kind of desire that strikes when you least expect it. In this collection, Manuel García strips away illusions and delivers raw, virile encounters where hunger and power collide.
The title story follows a young pizza delivery man through a late-summer city, where the night heat sticks to the skin and the rules loosen. What begins as a simple five-euro delivery becomes an initiation: a door half-open, a man waiting, a tension too heavy to ignore. The smell of dough, sweat, and cigarettes mixes with the salt of lust, and suddenly the job offers more than tips.
He lit a cigarette on the street corner, pretending to kill time. The door opened. A man in underwear stood there, eyes fixed on him, voice low, steady. “Do you want a tip?” A hand slid down, rough, unhesitating. The boy’s breath caught; the city noise faded. In that moment, nothing else mattered but heat, skin, and the promise of release.
Blunt, carnal, unapologetic—these stories are not about romance, but about the weight of a look, the press of a body, the unspoken law between men. García writes of lust in its purest form: physical, necessary, unforgettable.
