What Happened with My Ex-Daughter-in-Law While My Wife Was Away

At the end of a dusty street in Cerro Manso, where the houses gave way to open countryside, lived Tomás Ferrer. He had been a retired mechanic for barely a week, and that morning he was trying to read Don Quixote in a brand-new hammock beneath the shade of two carob trees.

“Am I a simpleton, or is this book overrated?”

He snapped the volume shut and let it fall onto the grass. Forty-five years of tightening bolts had not prepared him for Cervantes. The sun poured cleanly down onto the small swimming pool he himself had chlorinated an hour earlier, and everything was silent except for the birds.

“I’m going to the market!” Pilar shouted from the doorway, waving.

“Okaaay!” he called back without bothering to modulate his voice.

The car disappeared down the street. Rufo, the old Labrador, pricked up his ears before his master did. Then came the sound of a motorcycle engine, followed by a few playful honks Tomás recognized immediately.

“It can’t be. Is that…?”

It was Renata. Bruno’s ex-girlfriend crossed the garden gate and knelt to pet the dog, who rolled onto his back with his tongue hanging out. They had not seen each other for months, not since the breakup.

“Hi, Tomás,” she said, raising her head with the smile that had always disarmed him.

“Hi, Renata…” he replied, not quite sure how to continue. “Pilar isn’t here. She just went to the market.”

“I didn’t come for her. Or Bruno, so relax.” She glanced to one side, searching for the words. “It’s just that when you break up with someone, you don’t only break up with him. You break up with his family, his dog, his Sunday barbecues. This morning I dreamed I was here with all of you, and I woke up feeling like hell.”

Tomás nodded, but his attention was less on her words than on the choreography of her gestures. Her blond hair, long lashes, the thin white T-shirt stretched over a generous chest that showed clearly without a bra, her nipples outlined beneath the fabric, and a pair of worn, excessively ripped shorts that let the lower crease of her buttocks peek out.

“I don’t understand how my son let a girl like that get away. A ten inside and out. And what tits, for fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t defend Bruno,” he said, measuring every syllable. “I wish you had been the one for good. He’ll never find anyone like you.”

Renata’s blue eyes lit up. She was studying humanities and, beneath her rapid-fire chatter, there was an intelligent, cultured young woman. Having that rough man take her side relieved her of the lies Bruno had surely told about the breakup.

“For once I have a decent guest…” Tomás held out his hand and invited her inside. “Pilar left a pitcher of lemonade. It’s just the thing in this heat.”

Renata walked ahead of him through the garden. Tomás took in the figure before him: her buttocks peeked out with every step, defying the scant fabric covering them, and each sway hinted at the cleft between them. She had not remembered leaving home looking so provocative, but she noticed the old man’s gaze fixed on her ass, so intense that she almost forgot how to walk.

***

They talked about everything while she poured herself lemonade: his retirement, the essay she was writing and that nobody at home ever listened to. Tomás paid more attention to her in two sentences than Bruno had given her in six months.

“If I’d known I was coming here, I’d have brought my swimsuit,” Renata said. “A swim would feel wonderful in this heat.”

“Noa, Aníbal’s wife, left a bikini hanging out back yesterday. Orange. See for yourself.”

The young woman went to the clothesline and returned a little later wearing the garment, still holding her clothes and white sneakers. Tomás tried to rein in his gaze so as not to intimidate her.

“Would Pilar have something more my size? Noa’s flat, and I…”

“Have you seen my wife? She wears one-piece swimsuits.” He shrugged. “You shouldn’t have had surgery.”

“I haven’t had surgery!” she protested. “I had knee surgery as a child, that’s all.”

“How would I know? How could I imagine something that perfect was natural?”

She got into the water, still arguing about whether men had the right to stare. Tomás, in the shade, listened with half an ear and watched her whole. It disarmed him that this girl had an answer for everything.

When Renata climbed out of the pool, she raised her arms to wring her hair to one side. Noa’s bikini, overwhelmed by her size, let one nipple slip out at the side. Tomás’s eyes went as wide as saucers, but he did not dare say a word. She kept talking, oblivious, reciting her ideas about the future of humanity.

“If I tell her now, she’ll know I’ve been silently watching for a while. I’ll wait until she makes a sudden movement.”

The movement never came. Renata lay down on the hot stone to sunbathe, on her back, with a pillow beneath her head. Then, without opening her eyes, she calmly felt her breast, adjusted the bikini, and said quietly:

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you… tell you what?” he stammered.

“My tit was out and you kept quiet like a thief.” She paused. “What a liar. And you say you were distracted.”

***

What came afterward was a game, and they both knew it. Renata, accustomed to the aggression of the boys in her city, found Tomás’s attention strangely kind. She knew that man would never lay a finger on her, and that gave her a dangerous freedom.

“Do you like me, Tomás?” she asked suddenly, without moving a single muscle.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You can say it. I know you’d never try anything. That’s why I let you look at me. You’re like my magic mirror. Did the queen in the story want to sleep with her mirror?”

Tomás was speechless. This girl had found a way to soften his gruff nature, to draw tenderness out of him that he did not even allow himself with his family.

“Mirror, mirror… am I prettier than Bruno’s new girlfriend?” she sang.

“You’re prettier than her and than anyone that fool has ever had. You’ll always be my favorite daughter-in-law.”

Renata opened her eyes and sat up, delighted by the flattery. But something had changed in the air. The shade, the heat, the empty house. She kept pulling at the thread.

“It annoys me that you saw my tit in that position. It was badly placed, all out of shape. When Bruno brings you another girlfriend, I don’t want you to have any doubt about who’s prettier.” She bit her lip. “I want you to see them again. Properly.”

“That’s not… Why would you want that? Is this another one of your games?”

“Do you think I’m playing with you?” she asked, pretending to be offended.

Tomás shifted in the wooden chair. If Renata had been an engine, he would have known how to read her symptoms like the mechanic he was. But women, their hints, their body language, had always escaped him.

“If you’re not going to tell Pilar…” she whispered, playing with the bikini strings. “Ask me.”

“Ask you?”

“On your knees.”

The old man understood at once what giving in would mean. It would not only hurt his pride; it would lay bare his desire for a girl who could have been his granddaughter. As he thought about it, Renata fanned him with her dark lashes, and the tie at the back of her neck had come loose some time ago. The orange fabric barely covered her.

“I’m not going to do it. I won’t get on my knees. Never.”

He knelt on the grass.

“I’m asking you… on my knees… please. Show them to me.”

Renata smiled, pleased to bend such an honorable man to her will. She had no intention of going further, of breaking the sacred harmony of that marriage. But it was enough for her to lower her head and pull on a tie. The garment collapsed over her thighs, and her breasts lay bare in the sun, white where the sunlight had not reached, their pink nipples hardening in the open air.

“I don’t think I need to ask whether you like them,” she said.

Tomás managed nothing more articulate than a stammer. When he tried to move closer, she pulled away, covering herself with her arm.

“Easy, easy. It was only a question, not an offer. You saw them as you would have seen them at the beach. Nothing happened that you need to regret. But think about Pilar. What would she say if she found you like this?”

And yet neither of them wanted it to end.

***

“You said earlier that it would mean a lot to you if I read your essay,” Tomás ventured, hungry for improvisation. “Let me give you a few kisses and I’ll read it with all my attention.”

“What a load of nonsense.” But the girl was only pretending to be coy for appearances’ sake. Deep down, she wanted that man’s shaven mouth to linger over her skin. “Fine… but only a little. And no hands. I don’t want this to get any stranger than it already is.”

Tomás crawled closer, with the stage fright of a man who had not touched another woman in forty-five years. She arched her back and offered him her breast. The first kisses were subtle, respectful, strangely tender, barely the brush of lips over hot skin. Then the old man’s mouth turned wicked, his tongue broke free, and a hardened nipple received increasing intensity, sucked hungrily and caught between his teeth.

“What are you doing, you brute?” she said, pulling away. “You bit me!”

“Don’t leave me hanging, Renata… I’m missing the other one… please.”

Softened by that childish remorse, she sighed and offered herself again. Tomás latched onto the second breast with animal enthusiasm, sucking the entire nipple, licking it in circles, drawing it in until Renata felt an electric current run straight down to her cunt. The girl felt the moisture heating beneath the bikini fabric and squeezed her thighs, embarrassed by her own arousal. The old man suckled like a condemned man, alternating from one breast to the other, until a bolt of pain in his back knocked him down onto the grass.

“Ha, ha… you’re too old for this kind of exercise,” she laughed. “Don’t move. Wait.”

She placed the cushion beneath his head and stroked his cheeks. Then, with her knees on either side of his face, she let those breasts fall onto him, giving him a slow, obscene rub, dragging her wet nipples across his forehead, cheeks, and parted lips. Tomás stuck out his tongue to catch whatever he could, and she allowed it in tiny doses, playing at giving and taking away. Somehow the old man noticed that the girl’s crotch was only a few inches from his chest, and that the orange fabric of her bikini had darkened with an unmistakable wet stain.

“You’re wet, Renata,” he whispered. “It shows.”

“Shut up.”

But she did not move. Renata kept watch on the street: no neighbors, no passersby. Only Rufo, lying a few yards away, watched them without understanding anything.

The sound of a car in the distance abruptly pulled her away.

“That’s not… that’s not Pilar,” he protested.

“It doesn’t matter. We were getting carried away,” she said, pulling on her T-shirt. “We’d better stop here.”

***

But they could no longer go back. There was no way to resume talking about literature or family with their hands trembling. Renata knelt beside him again and delivered the sentence that would change everything.

“The truth is, if you weren’t impotent, I wouldn’t have let you drool all over me. Bruno told me you can’t get it up. That’s why I don’t see you as a man.”

It was a lie, and she knew it: the events of that afternoon contradicted her. But she wanted to provoke him. Tomás was not prepared to have his virility belittled. Without even standing, he undid his trousers and revealed an erection that admitted no argument: a thick, veined cock, its shiny, unhooded glans pointing skyward with a firmness that surprised even him.

“You don’t see me as a man? You don’t?”

The chatterbox fell silent for the first time. She had noticed the bulge beneath the fabric, but nothing had prepared her for that. Knowing she alone was responsible for such a state reignited her own arousal to heights she did not recognize in herself. She felt her cunt throbbing beneath the bikini, a hot pulse keeping time with the contractions of that cock.

“I still don’t see you as a man,” she said without conviction. “You were my father-in-law. You’re like a father to me.”

“One thing doesn’t cancel out the other. Touch it, Renata. That’s all. I know you want to.”

Pretending indifference, the girl approached, driven by a disturbing curiosity. Her fingers delicately encircled the old man’s member, bending its rigid length, and she felt impatient contractions. The cock pulsed in her hand like a living animal, hot and taut beneath the thin skin. A transparent drop escaped from the little opening and slid down the glans, and she spread it with her thumb in a gesture she could not resist.

“This isn’t fucking,” she justified in a whisper, tightening her fist and moving it slowly down to the base. “I’m only touching you a little.”

“I haven’t come in more than ten years, Renata. I can’t even do it alone. I didn’t even remember having it hard… until your nipple slipped out.”

Ten years. The girl tried to imagine a drought that long. She had gone two months and felt like a cat in heat. A perverse thrill rose to her mouth, one she could not restrain, and without thinking any further she bent down and began to eat him.

She parted her lips and swallowed the glans in a wet kiss, savoring it as if it were candy. Then she moved lower, very slowly, taking him inch by inch until the tip brushed the back of her throat. She pulled away with an obscene sucking sound and plunged down again, setting a greedy rhythm, while a thread of saliva ran down her chin and dripped onto the old man’s balls.

“Renata… what are you doing to me?” Tomás gasped, undone.

No body had ever done that to him in his life. Never Pilar. His wife had always considered blowjobs a filthy indignity, and he had spent decades contenting himself with imagining them. The girl, by contrast, applied herself with a technique that left him breathless: she sucked the glans alone, her tongue curling around the rim; then she swallowed him in one thrust; then she came back out to paint his cock with long licks, from his balls to the tip, looking him in the eye.

“You’re going to come today,” she promised, jerking him with both hands, one twisting at the base while the other massaged the slippery glans. “As surely as my name is Renata.”

“I don’t know, girl… I told you, I don’t…”

“Shut up. You’ve never had me. I make the difference.”

She took his testicles into her mouth, one after the other, sucking them carefully while her hand continued moving up and down his cock. Then she spat onto the glans and swallowed him again, this time at a frantic pace, her cheeks hollowed by suction. Tomás moaned shamelessly, gripping her blond hair with both hands, unable to believe that angelic mouth was devouring him like that.

“Fuck… fuck, girl… don’t stop…”

He felt like another person, more depraved with every minute. The clear red lines he had drawn earlier melted beneath the heat, and every last remnant of guilt burned away in the sun. She took his cock all the way down one more time, enduring her gag reflex, and came back up with tears in her eyes and a naughty smile on her glossy lips.

And then, once again, a car engine. This time it really was Pilar.

***

“Get dressed, Tomás,” she whispered, slipping back into the pool.

The old man, betrayed by his bad back, gathered up his clothes as best he could and collapsed into the hammock, pretending at a calmness belied by its swaying. His cock was still hard and throbbing beneath his trousers, aching from the interruption. Pilar entered through the gate carrying bags, accompanied by Remedios, a neighbor whom she occasionally drove to the next town.

“Hello, darling. Look who I ran into,” Pilar said. “And Renata! What a lovely surprise.”

“Hello, both of you,” the girl replied from the water, wearing her T-shirt over the wet bikini.

The two women unloaded the bags and left again: Pilar would drive Remedios to Puerto Alto and return alone. When the car disappeared once more, the garden fell silent again, crossed only by the glances between the old man and the siren still swimming.

“I think I should go,” she said without leaving the water.

“I thought you were staying for lunch.”

“Yes, but… you know. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who sleeps with men three times her age. And you should be the voice of reason. Keep me in line.”

Tomás was beginning to agree with her. Until Renata climbed the pool steps and her wet body once again acquired a name and shape. The bikini clung to her skin, outlining every contour: her nipples boldly visible through the fabric, the lips of her cunt hinted at beneath the orange triangle that barely covered them.

“Good God. Where did this girl come from?”

“What are you looking at?” she asked, intimidated and flattered at once.

“It’s hard to believe that’s the same bikini Noa wore. You’d make it win the award for best swimsuit in history.”

“Forget it, Tomás. As soon as my T-shirt dries, I’m leaving.”

***

The T-shirt was drying over the back of a chair. To kill time, Renata approached the hammock and pulled on the lower rope, inspecting it.

“Hammocks make me nervous. I feel like they’re going to break at any moment.”

“This one can hold more than two hundred kilos. It’s a good brand.”

“I bet if I climb in with you, the ropes will snap.”

“Bet whatever you like. If it doesn’t break, you stay for lunch.”

The girl sighed, feeling an overpowering thrill sweep aside the sensible reasoning she had held a moment before. She also confessed that her motorcycle was making a strange noise and sometimes jolted her. Tomás pronounced, very seriously, that she would benefit from a good mechanic’s services—for free.

“Fine. But promise me you’ll keep still,” she said, not believing herself.

She climbed in carefully, asking him to close his eyes. The hammock rocked and finally held them. They faced each other, her blue eyes fixed on his tired brown ones, while the sun flickered through the leaves of the carob trees. Renata’s wet hair dripped onto the old man’s bare chest, and the swaying gradually quieted, taking with it every remaining scrap of caution.

“Looks like it isn’t breaking,” she said.

“I told you.”

“I haven’t even started moving yet.”

Renata felt the bulge beneath her buttocks and began rocking herself on top of him, rubbing her wet cunt over the fabric of his trousers, feeling his hard cock throbbing against her sex. The mechanic’s callused hands climbed her thighs, encircled her ass, and openly untied the bikini’s side knots. The bottom fell to the ground, leaving her bare ass exposed to the open air. Then his hands rose to her breasts, which were once again spilling out of the defeated fabric, and tore loose the neck tie. The girl slipped free of the last garment and was completely naked atop him, her shaved cunt in full view, shining with arousal, her swollen labia parted by the heat itself.

“Are you going to fuck me, Tomás?” she asked. “Can you?”

“I’m going to fuck you until I split you open, girl.”

She lifted her hips to free him. He yanked his trousers down, and his erection rose from the ashes of a decade of impotence, harder than before, thicker, its glans swollen and purple. Renata gripped it in one hand, spat a thick wad onto it, and rubbed it first along her wet sex, moving the glans up and down her lips, coating his cock with her juices. She lingered for a few seconds, rubbing the tip against her clitoris, teasing him inside without actually doing it, until she could bear no more and drove him in hard.

“Aaah! Fuck!” she cried when she felt him enter all the way. “God… what a cock you have… you’re splitting me open…”

“You’re so tight, girl.”

“I’m so horny I can’t take it anymore.”

She began riding him with winding movements, rising slowly until only the glans remained inside, then dropping hard, impaling herself completely, moaning each time her ass landed on the old man’s thighs. The hammock began swaying again, keeping time with their rhythm. Rufo barked twice before falling silent. Tomás’s hands roamed the girl’s body greedily: the breasts swaying with each thrust, the buttocks rolling across his lap, the smacks that made them tremble.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me, fuck!” she panted, pressing herself against him, changing the rocking into an obscene circular motion. “Like that, like that, don’t stop!”

Tomás felt that his member was finally home, sheltered in the most welcoming wetness, squeezed by hot walls that sucked at it with every downward stroke. He sat up as best he could to catch one nipple between his teeth, and she let out a hoarse cry, arching her back. He nibbled the other, licked her neck, sucked her breasts in turn while the girl kept bouncing on his cock, bracing her hands on his shoulders to come down harder.

“Get on all fours,” he ordered, in a voice he did not recognize. “I want to fuck you from behind.”

Renata obeyed without protest, climbing down from the hammock and positioning herself on the grass, her pert ass raised, her back arched, her dripping cunt offered to him. Tomás knelt behind her, grabbed her hips, and sank into her again with one thrust that sent her skidding forward.

“Aaah! Yes! Harder!”

The old man began pounding her with all the rage accumulated through ten years without sex, his pelvis crashing against the girl’s buttocks, making all that firm white flesh tremble. He seized her wet hair and pulled it, forcing her to arch farther, fucking her as if it were the last time he would ever get laid. The wet sounds of her cunt devouring his cock mingled with the dry slaps of hip against ass and Renata’s muffled moans.

“I’m coming… I’m coming, Tomás!” she shrieked, clenching her fists in the grass. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Renata came with a shudder of pelvic spasms, biting her lip so as not to wake the neighborhood, and still she did not stop. She wanted more. She wanted to steal every ounce of pleasure from that absurd situation. She turned around, shoved him back onto the hammock, and mounted him again, this time with her back to the old man, offering him a view of her ass as she rose and fell on his gleaming cock.

For the old man, the road was longer: more than ten years without reaching the summit. But the girl did not slow down, and between the weight of her body, the obscene sight of his own cock entering and leaving that pink cunt, and the complicity of their glances over her shoulder, the paternal affection of those past months transformed, thrust by thrust, into something else. She brought her fingers to her clitoris and began rubbing herself as she rode him, seeking her second orgasm with the same hunger with which she had sought his first.

“I’m coming… I’m coming again,” she announced, trembling all over. “Come with me, fuck!”

And then, after so many silent years, the old man’s austerity finally broke. He felt the tingling rise from his balls, the pressure building without restraint, and knew he was about to explode. The girl pulled away in time, turned, and crouched before him, gripping his cock with both hands and jerking him furiously over her breasts. His hoarse cry merged with Renata’s second explosion. The first jet of semen shot out with such force that it passed over her blond hair; the second spattered her face and cheek, a white thread running from her eyebrow to her lip; the following jets fell thickly over her breasts, sliding between her hardened nipples and streaming down her belly. Renata kept working the base of his cock with her hand until the last drop, drawing everything out of him, then took the glans into her mouth to suck away the remnants, savoring that long-denied release with the naughty smile of someone who has just completed a masterful performance.

Tomás melted into a pleasure he had believed lost for half his life, unable to move a muscle, watching through a haze as the girl licked her lips and ran her stained fingers over her nipples, spreading his come across her skin as if it were suntan lotion.

“Quite a release, old man,” she whispered, giving his sensitive glans one final lick. “I told you. I make the difference.”

Beneath the shade of the carob trees, swaying in a hammock that did not break, the first day of his retirement had turned out far more epic than Tomás Ferrer could ever have imagined. And although he knew he would pay dearly for that enchantment, nothing in his orderly life seemed, at that moment, worth exchanging for what he had just experienced.