Aunt Nephew

We danced until the house fell silent. When she opened my bedroom door and said she needed a favor, I knew that Christmas would change everything.

I knocked on the door knowing I’d gone too far this time, and the woman who opened it accepted no excuses—only obedience.

That night, while everyone was asleep, my aunt left her glass on the sand, slipped off her sandals, and told me the water was better with nothing on.

It was July, I was ruined and desperate. I crossed my sister’s garden looking for help; my nephew was waiting by the pool with a smile I didn’t know how to read in time.

She locked the storage shed and slipped the keyring into her apron. Only then did I understand that afternoon wasn’t going to end with a lecture.

Every time I lazed around, I paid for it with nettles, lashes, and her muddy boots. And worst of all, part of me was already waiting for the next punishment.

That night, hidden in the shadow of the hallway, my husband learned that offering me to another man had a price: watching someone else give me what he no longer knew how to give.

Marcos introduced him as a cousin’s son, staying for a few days. But Elena quickly noticed the way the boy looked at her when no one else was paying attention.

She took off her shoe in the car, slid her foot to my crotch, and whispered, “Is your first time going to be obeying me? Better for both of us.”

Many people ask me where my fetish for rubber gloves comes from. Almost nobody knows the answer. It started one Friday, in my aunt’s room, with the door locked.

My sister was abroad, so I attended in her place. When my nephew demanded his present in front of his friends, I knew I wouldn’t return home the same.

When she came barefoot down the hall in that transparent robe, I knew neither of us was going to pretend nothing had happened.