I Covered for My Sister-in-Law and Ended Up in Her Lover’s Arms

I’ve been carrying this in silence for almost three years, and I’m finally deciding to tell it. I’m not expecting understanding or forgiveness; I just need to get it out of me, because every time I close my eyes I go back to that night.

I’m twenty-seven and I have a four-year-old daughter who is the most sacred thing I have. My skin is light brown, my hair is black and falls to the middle of my back, my eyes are honey-colored, and I’m barely five feet three. Despite the pregnancy, I still have the body I had at twenty: medium, firm tits, with dark, sensitive nipples, a narrow waist, shapely legs, and a perky ass my husband always used to brag about when we went out.

My husband’s name is Diego. He’s two years older than me and, to this day, I still believe he’s the love of my life. Because of work and the lack of opportunities in our city, five years ago he crossed the border and went to the United States. He left us living in the family house, with my mother-in-law and his younger sister, Camila. He sends money every month, calls every day, and yet calls don’t hug you, don’t brush against you, don’t turn you on. Five years is a long time. Five years is many nights alone with my fingers under the sheets, biting the pillow so I wouldn’t wake the little girl, trying to remember what a real cock felt like inside me.

More than anyone imagines when they promise to wait.

***

Camila was twenty-two and had a complicated love life. Her official boyfriend, Bruno, worked in another province and only came back on long weekends. That left her with a lot of free time and, as I would later find out, a lot of opportunities. I never asked her anything; everyone knows their own business.

That October afternoon she came into my room with a favor-pending face.

—Sis-in-law, I need you to come with me tonight.

—Where to?

—There’s a dance downtown. I’m going with a guy I met recently and I need an excuse in case anyone sees me. If you go with me, it looks like I went out with family.

I told her no three times. The fourth time I gave in, more out of boredom than conviction. I’d been shut in for months between the little girl’s routine, my video calls with Diego, and the soap operas my mother-in-law blasted at full volume. Going out, even as a chaperone, sounded like oxygen.

I left the girl asleep with my mother-in-law, put on a short black dress I hadn’t worn since before the pregnancy, and let my hair down. When I saw myself in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. The fabric clung to my tits without a bra, my nipples showed through, and the hem barely covered my ass. Underneath I was wearing a black lace thong I’d bought the year Diego left and had never once worn.

***

The bar was on a cobblestone street in the old downtown. Cumbia music, purple lights, people dancing pressed together. Camila introduced me to Tomás as soon as we walked in.

—Nice to meet you —he said, and the smile he gave me made me lower my eyes.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, tanned, with a short beard that sharpened his jaw. He wore an open shirt buttoned two buttons down, and the silver chain peeking out underneath glinted with every movement. If Camila hadn’t whispered to me, laughing, how well-endowed he was and how he split her in two until she screamed, maybe I would have seen him differently. But now everything he said reached me with an echo that did me no favors, and I couldn’t stop staring at the bulge in his pants, imagining it.

I sat at a side table while they went to the dance floor. I ordered lemonade and spent my time watching couples I didn’t know. Sleep was winning when Camila came running up, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the bathroom.

—Sis-in-law, Bruno’s here.

—What do you mean he’s here?

—He just texted me. I told him I felt like coming out and he showed up as a surprise. He’s outside already. Please, do me one last favor: distract Tomás for half an hour. I’m taking Bruno out to dinner somewhere else, getting him out of the way. I swear in thirty minutes we’ll come back for you.

I said yes through clenched teeth. I didn’t like lying, I didn’t like being left alone with a stranger, and above all I didn’t like the way my pussy was getting wet thinking about Tomás.

Camila kissed my cheek and left like nothing. I went back to the table with my excuse ready: a hospitalized cousin, an urgent phone call, the usual.

***

Tomás listened to me without saying anything and accepted the lie without arguing. He invited me to dance and I said no, that I was only staying a little while and preferred to sit. He got up annoyed, barely bothering to hide it, and went off to find someone on the dance floor. I saw him pressed against a blonde laughing with her mouth open and, for no reason I understood, felt a ridiculous sting of jealousy. I thought of that blonde spreading her legs for him that same night and pressed my thighs together under the table.

I thought about leaving. I took my purse, stood up, and when I got near the door a hand grabbed my wrist. It was an older man, his shirt stained, his breath smelling of cheap liquor. He yanked me toward him, saying things I couldn’t make out over the music.

—Let me go —I told him, trying to pull free.

He wouldn’t let go. He dug his fingers into my arm and I looked around: nobody noticed. The music drowned everything out, the lights hid people’s faces. I felt real fear, that cold fear that paralyzes you, and just when I was about to scream Tomás appeared behind him. He shoved the drunk so hard he sent him crashing into a table and, without looking back, took me by the shoulders and got me out of the bar.

Outside I burst into tears like a little girl. He covered me with his leather jacket and held me without saying anything, waiting for my shaking to pass. He smelled like tobacco and a woody cologne that stuck to my neck.

—Let’s go somewhere else —he said when I could breathe again.

***

We walked two blocks to a small restaurant that was still open. We ordered beers. I almost never drink, but that night I needed something to bring the adrenaline down. The first was a cautious sip; the second, a relief; the third was going down all on its own.

Tomás turned out to be one of those men who talk. Not the kind who talk about themselves, but the kind who listen and ask questions back. He told me he had studied architecture, that he now worked for a construction company, that he missed his mother who lived far away. I told him about my daughter, told him about Diego without naming him, told him about waiting and the exhaustion that waiting gives you. At some point I confessed, between nervous laughs and hair falling over my face, that I’d gone almost five years without fucking. He looked at me hard, ran his tongue over his lips, and didn’t answer, but under the table his knee started brushing my thigh and never moved away.

After the fifth beer, everything turned blurry. The restaurant lights seemed to dance. I got up to go to the bathroom and, in the hallway, leaned against the wall so I wouldn’t fall. I took out my phone and called Camila.

—Sis-in-law —she answered in a whisper—. What’s wrong?

—Where are you? Aren’t you coming for me?

—I can’t. Bruno didn’t want to leave and I had to take him to the apartment. You know, I’m doing him the little favor. Don’t wait for me. Make something up to Tomás. I’ll explain tomorrow.

I hung up with a knot in my stomach. And with heat between my legs I hadn’t felt in years. I went back to the table, picked up my purse, and told Tomás I was leaving.

—I’ll take you —he replied, and didn’t give me time to argue.

***

I don’t remember the ride in his car. I do remember that at some traffic light I leaned over the steering wheel and kissed him. I don’t know who started it. I know his hand went under my dress, yanked my thong aside, and shoved two fingers into me all at once. I moaned against his mouth and he smiled without pulling away. He moved them inside me calmly, pulling them out soaked and plunging them back in, while I unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out of his boxer briefs. It was hard, thick, hot in my hand. I started jerking him off slowly, up and down, and when the light turned green he had to pull away with one hand while mine kept squeezing his dick between my fingers. By the time we got to my mother-in-law’s front door, my skirt was hiked up to my waist, my lace thong was soaked, and my tits were out of the dress, with his fingers still inside my pussy.

I looked for the key in my purse and it wasn’t there. Camila must have left it inside. I took his hand and guided him to the back door, the one to the patio, the one my mother-in-law left open when she watered the plants late.

We went in silently. We crossed the dark living room and went up to my bedroom, careful with every step. I closed the door behind us and, as soon as the lock clicked, Tomás shoved me against the wall and kissed me with a hunger that buckled my knees.

He slid the straps of my dress down and the fabric fell to my waist. His hands found my tits, squeezed my nipples between his fingers until I trembled, and his mouth moved down my neck to bite one shoulder. Then he went lower, crouched down, and took one nipple fully into his mouth. He sucked hard, tugging it with his teeth, moving from one tit to the other, while his other hand squeezed my ass over the thong. I breathed into his hair, trying not to make a sound. The whole house was asleep. My daughter was asleep. My mother-in-law was asleep three doors away.

This is insane, I thought. And I didn’t stop.

***

He took me to the bed and knelt between my legs. He pulled my thong down with his teeth, biting the elastic, sliding it over my thighs, over my calves, and left it hanging from one of my ankles. He stared at my pussy for a few seconds, spreading my lips with his thumbs, watching me shine with wetness, before touching me. When he finally did, it was with two fingers and a slowness that felt cruel. He pushed them all the way in, curling them upward, searching for that spot that no one had touched in years. I bit the pillow so I wouldn’t scream.

—Slowly —I asked in a thin voice—. There are people in the house.

—Then take it, baby —he whispered back—. You’re going to have to make very little noise, because I’m not stopping until I wreck your pussy.

The word shot through me like a jolt. He nodded without taking his eyes off me and kept going. His tongue replaced his fingers. He licked me slowly, from bottom to top, stopping at the clit, sucking it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Then he put his whole tongue inside me, spread my ass cheeks with his hands, and ate me like he was genuinely hungry. That was when I had to dig my nails into my thighs so I wouldn’t wake anybody. It had been far too long since anyone had touched me like that. My body responded in a way I almost didn’t recognize: a wave rose up through my belly, my chest, and I came over his mouth in a long, silent spasm, biting the back of my hand until my teeth left a mark. He kept sucking me while I shook, swallowing everything that came out of me.

I pulled him up to me and took off his shirt. His chest was covered in dark hair and there was a small tattoo on his shoulder I never got to read. I unbuttoned him and pulled his pants down. What I saw made me let out a nervous little laugh: it was more than I’d expected. Thick, long, dark at the tip, with a vein running underneath and heavy, full balls.

I knelt in front of him on the rug at the foot of the bed. Not out of submission, but hunger. I hadn’t tasted a man in years. I took him in both hands and ran my tongue along the whole length, from his balls to the tip, tasting the thick drop already beading there. Then I took him into my mouth with a calm he hadn’t given me. At first just the tip, sucking it with tight lips, pushing my tongue into the slit. Then more, more, until I felt it hit the back of my throat and my eyes watered. He grabbed my hair with both hands, gathered it all into a ponytail with his fist, and set the rhythm, fucking my mouth slowly, pulling it out to the tip and pushing it back in until my nose bumped against his pubic hair. I was drooling, spit running down my chin, and I stroked his balls with one hand while with the other I squeezed one cheek to make him thrust harder. When I felt I couldn’t breathe anymore, he yanked me away, a string of saliva hanging from my lip, and threw me back onto the bed.

***

He settled on top of me and spread my legs wide with his knees. He ran the tip of his cock over the lips of my pussy a couple of times, wetting himself well, and went in slowly, measuring me, giving me time to get used to him. I felt him opening me, filling me centimeter by centimeter, my pussy stretching around him after so many years. When he was all the way in, his balls pressed against my ass, he went still for a moment with his forehead against mine.

—Look at me —he told me—. Look at me when I put it in you.

I looked at him.

He started moving with a slow back-and-forth that felt endless. He came almost all the way out and then sank back in to the hilt, ripping a gasp from me each time. I tried not to moan, tried to hold everything in, and each time less and less of it stayed contained. He kissed my mouth to muffle me, kissed my neck, bit my lip. When he picked up the pace, I had to bite his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream. The bed started creaking and he, without stopping fucking me, stretched out a hand and grabbed the headboard so it wouldn’t bang against the wall. He was pounding me hard, restrained, with his teeth clenched, and every time he drove in to the hilt a muffled moan escaped me and he swallowed it with his mouth.

—Quiet, baby, quiet —he whispered in my ear without stopping—. They’re going to hear us. Your mother-in-law is going to hear you getting fucked by a stranger.

Those words, instead of scaring me, turned me on even more. I dug my nails into his back and wordlessly begged him not to stop.

We changed positions several times. Face down, with a pillow under my hips to lift my ass, his chest against my back and his hand over my mouth while he fucked me from behind, forcing my face into the mattress. From that angle he went deeper and I felt the tip knock against something that made me see lights. On my side, with my leg over his waist, while he sucked one nipple and with his thumb rubbed my clit in slow circles. On all fours, grabbing my hair from behind, yanking my head back while he buried himself in me with one clean thrust and slapped one cheek with his free hand, a sharp blow that rang on my skin and made me bite the sheet. Sitting on top of him, in front of a huge mirror he had hanging next to the closet. He made me ride his cock, gripping my waist, sinking me to the hilt with every downstroke, and seeing myself there, with a stranger between my thighs, my tits bouncing with every thrust, my face flushed, my mouth open and panting, my pussy opening around a cock that wasn’t my husband’s, was what pushed me over the edge.

Everything clenched. I felt the orgasm rise from my feet, squeezing my belly, and I came undone on him in silence, shaking all over, my face buried in his neck and my thighs clamped around his hips. He held my ass, still inside me, while I shook in waves that didn’t seem to end. When I finally stopped trembling, he laid me back on my back, spread my legs, and pushed into me again, this time faster, fucking me hard to finish. He held out a little longer, driving in short and deep, and when I felt he was about to come I whispered in his ear that outside, please, outside. He pulled out just in time, grabbed his cock with his hand, and shot long, thick ropes across my belly that reached all the way up to my tits. He stayed there gasping over me, the tip brushing my navel, the last drops dripping down my skin.

I gathered some of it with two fingers and, without thinking, brought them to my mouth. He watched me do it and let out a rough moan, as if he were about to come again just from seeing it. We stayed wrapped around each other, panting, both of us shining with sweat, the sheet stuck to my back and his cum slowly running down my side to my navel. We didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

***

I fell asleep without realizing it. I woke to knocks on the door and Camila’s voice on the other side.

—Sis-in-law, are you there yet?

I sprang out of bed. Tomás sat up, confused. I motioned for him not to speak and peeked out the door without opening it all the way, barely covered by the sheet, my pussy still throbbing and my legs sticky.

—Yeah, Cami, I got here a while ago.

—Oh, good. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Tomás didn’t suspect anything?

—He believed everything —I lied.

—You’re a saint. I owe you my life. Sleep well.

I heard her walk away down the hall. I closed my eyes, pressed my forehead against the door, and breathed for the first time in hours.

I turned around. Tomás was sitting on the bed, naked, his cock half-hard again between his legs, looking at me with a crooked smile.

—A life —he repeated softly—. And what do you owe her?

I didn’t answer him. I came closer, let the sheet fall, and climbed on top of him. I grabbed his cock with my hand, settled it under me, and sank onto it myself, slowly taking him all the way in with a muffled moan. I started moving up and down, bracing my hands on his chest, riding him calmly, letting every centimeter be felt. He squeezed my tits, sucked my nipples, pulled my hair. He made me turn around and get on all fours facing the door, and he fucked me from behind while covering my mouth with his hand and whispering dirty things in my ear. That I was hot. That I was a slut. That my husband had never fucked me the way he was fucking me that night. And I nodded without a voice, pushing my ass back against him, begging for more.

He came inside me this time. He buried himself to the hilt, gripped my hips with both hands, and unloaded inside with a muffled grunt against my nape. I felt every beat of his cock emptying inside me, and I came again, squeezing him with my pussy, milking him, getting every last drop out of him. Then he stayed inside me for a long while, lying over my back, breathing in my ear, until he slowly slid out and his cum started dripping down my thighs.

I let it happen again, slower, dirtier, until the sky turned gray behind the curtain.

***

Tomás left before dawn, barefoot, shoes in his hand. Camila never knew anything. Bruno didn’t either. Diego came back from the United States a year later and I never told him a word.

I learned two things that night. One, that five years is too long to wait in silence. And two, that the body keeps memory, and sometimes, when I’m with my husband and he fucks me slowly like always, I close my eyes and feel myself back in that room, with a stranger on top of me splitting me in two and my sister-in-law knocking on the door.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading me. I don’t know if I’d do it again. But I know I don’t regret it.