I Agreed to Go Fishing with My Cousin and His Friend

It was the middle of summer. One of those summers that leaves your skin burning and wakes things up in your body that are hard to keep quiet afterward. Classes had ended weeks ago, and the house felt bigger, quieter, more complicit. One afternoon Mom casually mentioned that Damián was coming to stay with us for a few days.

Damián was the son of Mom’s younger sister, a cousin I barely knew except from old photos and a couple of childhood birthdays. The news stirred only a mild curiosity in me, nothing more. Mom, on the other hand, couldn’t quite hide her irritation. She had her nighttime routine well oiled: visitors who arrived silently after midnight and left before dawn. A cousin staying in the house made things a lot harder for her maneuvering room.

But Damián came anyway. And he came with everything: broad-shouldered, sun-browned skin, an easy smile, and a way of talking that filled the room. At dinner that first night we talked about family, work, places. He told us he was obsessed with fishing, that he often slipped away to camp for several days at a time. Mom, smelling the chance to have the house to herself for a couple of nights, said that one of her coworkers at the factory had a son, Leandro, who was also into fishing, and that she’d ask whether he wanted to join one of the outings.

Damián got excited right away. He said that besides the rods and the rest of the gear, he’d brought a small tent, for two or three people. And then, looking straight into my eyes, he said:

—And you, cousin? Aren’t you in? It’d be nice to spend a few days outdoors, away from everything.

I looked at Mom. She gave me a smile that was half complicity, half relief. I smiled back too, already feeling a tingle below my navel.

—Sure, I’m in.

The next day Mom told me Leandro was thrilled and would stop by in the afternoon to coordinate things. When I saw him, I understood the trip was going to be interesting. Leandro was tall, with tawny skin, big hands like a guy who works for a living, and a look that didn’t hide a thing. The two of them were nice, talkative... and it was obvious they were sizing me up the whole time.

They chose the place between them: a secluded river about five kilometers off the road, more than two hundred fifty kilometers from home. We’d leave the next day on an early bus and spend five days there. That night I barely slept. I was anxious, restless, wide awake. I knew those two weren’t going out there just to cast lines. And knowing myself, I knew I wasn’t going to put up too many objections either.

We arrived after more than four hours of travel. The place was perfect: a calm river, tall trees, no one in sight. They set up the tent in minutes. I looked at it and blurted out:

—Wow... it’s small.

Damián laughed, showing white teeth.

—Better that way, little cousin. At night it gets cold out here. We’ll sleep nice and tight.

The three of us laughed, but the laughter already had a different taste.

We spent the afternoon setting up the gear, lighting the fire, talking nonsense. The tension grew like the midday heat. Every brush, every look, every time one of them bent over and I could make out the bulge under his shorts, my underwear got wetter.

At night we ate grilled fish and then sat around the campfire with a bottle of red wine. The wine, the darkness, the crackling logs: everything conspired. The conversation escalated fast. Confessions, laughter, questions that got more direct by the minute. Around midnight we decided to go to sleep.

Damián and Leandro walked a few yards away to piss. While I was gathering the dishes, I tried to sneak a sideways glance. The darkness hid almost everything, but I caught the silhouettes and the movement of their hands. Everything tightened inside me.

Before getting into the tent, Damián took off his shorts and was left in a tight black boxer brief. The hardness was obvious: the fabric outlined something thick that was already half awake. Leandro did the same. I was the only one left.

I wasn’t embarrassed to show myself. But this time it was different. They weren’t rushed boys. They were grown men, cousin and friend, and I was the only woman for miles around. I had a feeling those days were going to leave a mark on me.

I took off my shorts and was left in my panties. I’ve got a full body, and the fabric had ridden up in back, so my ass was almost bare. I climbed into the tent and lay down in the middle, facing Leandro and with my back to Damián.

As soon as I settled in, I was squeezed tightly between the two of them.

I felt Damián harden against me right away. Hot, hard, insistent. Leandro wasn’t far behind: he found my mouth with his tongue, our breathing crossed, muffled moans. Damián kneaded my breasts under my shirt, bit my ear, and whispered low, but just loud enough for the three of us to hear:

—We’re going to keep you busy all week, little cousin.

Leandro pushed down his underwear and pressed against my thighs, heavy, urgent. I already knew what was next. Lying on my side, I leaned toward him and took him into my mouth, while Damián, from behind, yanked my panties down to my knees.

Like that, bent over, with Leandro in my mouth, I felt Damián’s tongue run over me from top to bottom, soaking me, opening me with his thumbs, sinking where he wanted. I moaned with my mouth full, unable to stay still.

They were both unrestrained. They wouldn’t stop talking dirty to me:

—Look at you, cousin.

—You like this, don’t you?

—Ask for it. Ask for more.

Damián was the hungriest. It was clear he’d been building up the need for a while. He nibbled my ass until my skin went red, worked me open with his tongue and fingers, unhurried and unbothered.

Suddenly he managed to position me in the small tent. He got me on all fours, on my knees, bent far forward, still with Leandro in my mouth. Without waiting, he drove into me in one single thrust and started pounding hard.

—There you go, little cousin, there you go.

I huffed, muffled by Leandro, who held my head and set the rhythm. The moans, the insults, the smell of sex and river water, everything mixed together in the hot tent.

Damián lay down over my back, his chest against my spine, and while he kept going he warned me in my ear what was coming. I said nothing. I only pushed back, offering myself, letting him decide.

He worked me open slowly, with saliva and patience, and then began to force his way in little by little. My body tightened by instinct, as if it were always the first time, and that drove him crazy. He was with his cousin, far from everything, and that had him harder than ever. He pushed all the way in, without pausing. The burn was horrible and at the same time pure pleasure.

I screamed, bit my arm, my eyes filled with tears. Leandro, seeing the scene, couldn’t hold back and came in my mouth, while I swallowed and kept moaning. Damián kept going for a long while, talking in my ear, until with a roar he emptied himself inside me. He stayed like that, panting, before pulling out slowly.

We fell asleep pressed together, wrapped around each other, sweaty.

***

They used me for the five days we were there.

In every possible way.

They woke me up by putting it in my mouth before mate. They had me on all fours over the sand while one cast the line and the other took me from behind. They took turns with me in the tent at noon, when the sun beat down hard and the heat turned us into animals. They fucked me both at once, crammed into the tent, sweating, telling me all kinds of filthy things.

One afternoon they took me down to the river. They put me in the water and took me standing up, with the water up to my waist. Damián held my waist from behind while Leandro kissed me and shoved his fingers inside me. They both finished almost at the same time, and I laughed against Leandro’s chest, dizzy from the sun and the wine.

Another night, tipsy on wine and heat, they tied my wrists with a piece of fishing line and left me face down on the sleeping bag. They used me in turns, switching places every few minutes. They made me beg them not to stop. And they didn’t stop.

On the last day, before taking the tent down, they put me on my knees in the middle of camp. The two of them standing in front of me, they made me service them in turns while they laughed. They told me I was their summer luck, that when we got back they’d keep looking for me. They left me marked, exhausted, and, for some reason, smiling.

***

When we got back, Damián stayed at the house for another month.

There weren’t enough beds. He had to sleep with me.

The first night Mom went in to work the night shift. We were alone. As soon as she closed the door, Damián looked at me and said:

—Take your clothes off, cousin.

I took everything off. He put me on all fours on my own bed, over the sheets that smelled like me, and prepared me calmly, whispering in my ear:

—This is going to be every day.

And it was true.

For that whole month he made me his routine. He came looking for me before breakfast, came looking for me when Mom napped, came looking for me at dawn when she got home tired and collapsed into bed. ერთხელ he took me into the kitchen, against the counter, while Mom was resting in the next room, and covered my mouth with his hand so nothing could be heard.

When Mom went out, he took me to the big bed. He tied my wrists to the headboard with a stocking and used me slowly, until he had me crying now and then, until he left me wrecked. Then he’d make me sleep like that, and I had to fake my awkward walk when she came back.

One night Mom came home earlier than usual. She found us in my room. Damián didn’t stop. He kept going, without letting go of me, while she stood in the doorway watching us. She didn’t say a word. She came in, took off her clothes slowly, and lay down beside me. She caressed my face while her nephew kept going with me.

—Keep going, Damián —Mom said, with a voice I didn’t know.

And Damián kept going. Mom kissed me while the two of them had me between them. That night I discovered my mother in a way I never could have imagined, and I also discovered that we had been pretending for too long about what the two of us were.

From that night on, the house changed. Mom stopped hiding her visitors. Sometimes she brought someone home and included me. Sometimes it was Damián who invited Leandro. The four of us would end up in the big bed, me in the middle, laughing and crying at the same time, not really knowing where one thing ended and the next began.

Summer ended. Damián went back to his province. But every so often he comes back. And when he does, he already knows how I welcome him: with the door closed, the house silent, and the same hunger as that first night by the river.