My Sister-in-Law Caught Me with Her Panties in My Hand

We had been dating for seven months when Lucía told me it was time for me to meet her family. She brought it up one June morning while we were having breakfast in her small apartment in the city, and from her tone I understood that this wasn’t an open invitation to debate but a decision already made. I nodded with my mouth full of toast and told her whenever she wanted.

We took the train on Friday afternoon. I had a small suitcase with clothes for four days and a nervousness I tried to disguise by reading the same paragraph of a novel over and over. Lucía leaned against my shoulder with her headphones on, oblivious to my contained panic. Two and a half hours later we got off at the station in a village inland, took a taxi, and fifteen minutes later we were standing in front of the door of the house where she had grown up.

She rang the bell because, as she explained with a laugh, she never remembered to take her keys when she left the city. Then the door opened, and everything I had imagined about that weekend shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was Camila, Lucía’s younger sister. Five years younger, fresh out of high school, but from what I saw in that first tenth of a second, no one would have guessed she was under her early twenties. She wore a thin white tank top that clung to her body in the heat and showed that she wasn’t wearing a bra: two high, round tits, her nipples hard against the cotton. Frayed shorts bit into her buttocks and revealed the lower edge of a compact eighteen-year-old ass. Her hair was tied in a careless bun, and her skin was still damp from her nap. When she threw herself into her sister’s arms, I stood frozen with the suitcase in my hand and a hot pulse already sinking into my crotch.

“You must be Bruno,” she said afterward, planting two kisses on my cheeks.

I returned the greeting, trying not to inhale too deeply, because her perfume—or whatever it was, perhaps only her skin—left my mind blank for one moment too long. I felt one of her tits brush against my arm as she pulled away, a touch that lasted half a second too long and that she didn’t correct. Lucía didn’t notice. Or pretended not to notice. I would never know.

Camila told us that her parents had left the day before for the family farmhouse, a few kilometers from the village. They had a swimming pool, a grapevine shading a long table, and a fixed idea of spending the weekend there. They expected us Saturday afternoon. That night, the three of us had the house to ourselves.

“The guest room is right next to ours,” Camila said. “Lucía and I always sleep together whenever she comes. Old habits.”

I went upstairs alone, using unpacking my suitcase as an excuse. The room smelled of dust and summer. I opened the wardrobe to hang up two shirts and, in one of the lower drawers, found something I shouldn’t have touched. A pair of pink panties folded up, with little daisy prints. They weren’t Lucía’s: she wore dark, minimal lingerie, a different aesthetic. These were youthful, brazen in their own innocence.

I took them out intending to return them. I swear. But I held them in my hand for one second, two, three, and the image of Camila crossing the hallway in that tank top, her nipples showing through, forced its way into my head with violent clarity. I slowly turned them until I found the inner crotch seam: there was a faint stain, a trace of dried moisture, the imprint of a young pussy. I brought them to my face without thinking. They smelled of soap, clean skin, and beneath that, barely perceptible, the intimate, sweet, musky scent left by the used panties of a horny girl. I was already hard, my cock pushing against my pants, before I realized what I was doing.

“Bruno, are you coming to eat?” Lucía called from the kitchen.

“Coming!” I answered, and shoved the panties to the back of the drawer with a guilty gesture, though my cock was still hard and throbbing inside my underwear.

The three of us ate at the kitchen table. Cold chicken and salad. Lucía told me stories from her childhood, about how she and Camila used to paint on the walls and then accuse each other. I nodded and smiled at the right moments, but every time I looked up I found Camila’s gaze fixed on me, calm, as if she knew exactly what had happened in the upstairs room. At one point she leaned over to pour herself some water, and her tank top fell open toward the front: I saw one entire tit, white and heavy, with a pink, erect nipple pointing toward the glass. Her expression didn’t change. She sat back down without covering herself.

When we finished, I said I needed to go upstairs to the bathroom for a moment. It was only half a lie. What I needed was to empty myself, because I’d had a hard-on under the table for half an hour and couldn’t go on like that. I passed through the bedroom, opened the drawer, took out the panties, and sat on the bed. It wasn’t elegant. I pulled my pants down to my knees, spat into my hand, and grabbed my cock, which was already dripping. I pressed Camila’s panties against my nose, inhaled deeply, and with my other hand started jerking myself off, fast and without ceremony. I thought about her tits swaying as she hugged her sister, the nipple I’d just seen in the kitchen, what it would be like to sink my cock into that eighteen-year-old pussy that had left the stain in the fabric. I was about to come, semen already rising inside me, when I heard the door.

When I looked up, Camila was standing in the doorway. She didn’t startle. She didn’t laugh. She simply looked at me with her head slightly tilted to one side, like someone studying a painting. Her gaze dropped to my cock, still in my hand, swollen and red, the head soaked. Then she raised her eyes to mine with the same composure.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted dessert,” she said, in the same calm voice with which she had greeted me at the door.

I wanted to answer. I couldn’t. One hand was holding her panties against my face, and the other was clenched around a cock that refused to go soft. I felt the floor open beneath me.

“I left you a piece of cake downstairs,” she added. “I made it this morning. Lucía told me you liked lemon.”

She closed the door unhurriedly. I heard no footsteps. I heard nothing for an entire minute. I finished anyway, in silence, my cock still hot from the shock, and came into my fist with a long spasm, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan. Semen streamed between my fingers, and one drop landed right on the pink daisies of the panties.

***

I went downstairs to the living room fifteen minutes later with my face washed and a knot in my stomach that no dessert was going to untie. Camila was on the sofa watching an old movie with Lucía, who had fallen half asleep against her shoulder. When I entered, Camila lifted her head and indicated with her chin a plate on the coffee table.

“For you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I replied, and felt ridiculous thanking her.

I ate the cake without tasting it. Camila didn’t take her eyes off the screen. Lucía was asleep. The afternoon passed like that, in a strange calm that seemed about to break at any moment but never quite did.

Late in the day I went upstairs to my room alone, using reading for a while as an excuse. The panties were still on the bed, where I had left them in my panic, with the fresh mark from my ejaculation still drying on the fabric. I picked them up, folding them so the stain was hidden inside, went out into the hallway, and gently knocked on the door of the two sisters’ room. Lucía was still downstairs. Camila opened wearing short pajamas: a little white top with no bra and cotton panties that outlined the cleft of her ass.

“I’m bringing these back,” I said, holding them out to her.

She took them without looking at them. Slowly, she lifted them to her nose, closed her eyes for a second, and smiled when she recognized the smell.

“Relax, Bruno,” she said softly. “I left them there. I knew you were arriving today. What I didn’t expect was to find you so soon, but I’m glad you were the first one to stain them.”

She winked at me and closed the door.

I stood in the hallway for a full second, unable to understand, before returning to my room with my head spinning. That eighteen-year-old girl had turned my world upside down with one sentence. And the worst part, or the best part, was that she didn’t seem to be doing it out of a lack of control. She did it with surgical calm.

***

At noon on Saturday we took the car to the farmhouse. The road was narrow and dusty, lined with olive trees. I met her parents. Her mother gave me a long hug. Her father squeezed my hand harder than necessary and asked me what I did for a living. We spent some time in a small sitting room where a little air was moving, until her mother told us to forget about them and go to the pool, since that was what we were there for.

I went out in my trunks and sat on the edge with a towel. Lucía appeared in a black trikini that showed everything—the outlines of her nipples, her pussy, the cleft of her ass—and lay in the sun with a novel in her hand. Camila came behind her. A tiny coral bikini, breasts too large for so little fabric, her tits spilling over the top and sides of the triangle. The bottom was a thong that disappeared between her buttocks. She got into the water without greeting me and floated on her back, indifferent, her nipples standing hard beneath the wet fabric.

After twenty minutes, Lucía was asleep in the hammock. I got into the water to cool off and to conceal the erection I’d been enduring for half an hour. Camila approached me from behind with some stupid excuse about playfully splashing me, and when I turned around she was already pressed against my chest. The scant fabric of her bikini, the water, her legs brushing against me. She pulled me against her by the waist. She felt it, of course she felt it: my hard cock pressed into her belly through my trunks.

“I’ve been thinking about this for twenty-four hours,” she whispered in my ear, barely moving her lips. “And you’ve spent the same amount of time thinking about how to fix it.”

I didn’t answer. She took my hand beneath the water and brought it directly between her legs, pulling her thong aside. I touched her bare pussy for the first time: hot, swollen, slippery even beneath the water. I pushed my middle finger in to the knuckle and felt her clench around it. She pressed my fingers against her clitoris and moved her hips slowly, a tiny rocking motion Lucía would never see from her hammock. With her other hand, beneath the water, she slipped her fingers under my trunks and grabbed my cock directly, squeezing it from the base to the head with a firm fist.

“Later,” she whispered. “Tonight.”

She kissed me. A short, deep kiss, her tongue moving in and out of my mouth while she continued slowly jerking me off underwater. I kept my eyes open, watching the hammock and waiting for Lucía to raise her head. She didn’t. When I pulled away, Camila was already on the other side of the pool, splashing the back of her neck as if nothing had happened, her nipples even harder and a smile that wasn’t looking at me.

That afternoon, in the car on the way back, Lucía was affectionate. She held my hand over the gearshift and told me her parents adored me. I nodded and watched the road. Camila sat in the back with her headphones on, looking out the window.

***

At night, after dinner, the temperature wouldn’t drop. The hallway thermometer read ninety-three degrees. The upstairs bedrooms were ovens. Only the sisters’ room had air-conditioning, an old unit humming from the ceiling. Lucía suggested, with the innocence with which such things are suggested, that we put a mattress on the floor between the two beds and sleep there together, like when she and Camila were children and built forts in the room.

I accepted with a shrug. Camila said nothing. We brought up the mattress. We turned out the light.

I lay on my back for fifteen minutes, counting the blades of the ceiling fan. Lucía was breathing deeply to my left. The air conditioner drowned out everything else. I thought maybe I had exaggerated it all in my head, that everything had ended in the pool and tomorrow we would return to the city and this weekend would become a strange memory I’d take to my grave.

Then I felt the mattress sink to my right. A leg over mine. A hand beneath my pajama pants that went straight to my cock and pulled it free with a practiced movement. I knew from the smell before anything else. Camila. She began giving me a slow handjob, her palm tightly closed, twisting her wrist around the head on every upward stroke, as if she had known how to do it since before she knew what it was for. I turned toward her without saying a word.

I found her naked from the waist down. I ran my hand over her hip, opened her thighs with one knee, and slowly slid two fingers inside her, because she was already wet before I reached her. Her pussy swallowed them with a wet smack. She let out a sigh that under any other circumstances would have woken her sister. I found her clitoris with my thumb and began rubbing it in circles while pumping my fingers inside her, and she arched her back and began moving her ass against my hand, fucking herself on my fingers.

Then I felt another leg over my hip. From the other side. And a hand with short, familiar nails wrapping around my cock just above Camila’s.

“I thought you’d never dare,” Lucía whispered in my ear as she kissed my neck and bit my earlobe. “Thank goodness my little sister has less shame than you.”

I froze for two seconds. Then I stopped thinking. I pulled my hand from Camila’s pussy, my fingers shining with her juices, and brought them to Lucía’s mouth. She sucked them slowly, one by one, savoring her sister with her eyes closed. With my other hand I opened Lucía’s pajamas and caught her tit, squeezing her nipple between my forefinger and thumb until I drew a moan from her.

“She and I talked about it years ago,” Lucía added, as if reading my thoughts. “I thought I’d never find someone they both liked.”

From there on, there were no decisions. There was movement. Camila was the first to go down. She yanked my pajama pants off, settled between my legs, and took my cock into her mouth all the way to the root, without gagging, with the naturalness of a girl who had sucked it many times in her head before having it there. She sucked with her cheeks hollowed, moving slowly up to the head and then plunging down until she struck my balls. Saliva dripped from her chin and mingled with the juices still between her legs.

Lucía watched her in the half-darkness with a smile I had never seen before. She brushed Camila’s hair aside and held it in a ponytail so she could better watch her mouth working me. Then she bent down too, and the two sisters began licking my cock together, one side and the other, their tongues crossing over the head, kissing between licks with my shaft trapped between their mouths. I almost came right there.

“Wait,” Lucía told Camila, pushing her face away. “He’s going to work on me first, because he’s mine.”

She climbed on top of me astride, positioned my cock at the slit of her pussy, and lowered herself slowly, impaling herself to the base with a hoarse moan. She was hot, soaked, tight as if she had been waiting for this for days. She began riding me, her hands braced on my chest, her tits bouncing to the rhythm, while Camila climbed onto my face with her legs spread and lowered her pink pussy onto my mouth. I thrust my tongue between her lips and moved it upward until I found her clitoris. She tasted of salt, pool water, and a horny eighteen-year-old girl. Camila squeezed her thighs against my ears and began rubbing herself against my face, her hips moving on their own.

Above me, in the darkness, the two sisters kissed. I felt it before I saw it: the muffled moans, the smack of two wet mouths meeting. When I managed to open my eyes between Camila’s legs, I saw her with her eyes closed, pushing her tongue into her sister’s mouth while Lucía squeezed her tits with both hands. Lucía kept riding my cock and spoke to me between kisses with Camila:

“Suck it properly, Cami. Look at how she’s taking your sister—look at it going in and out.”

Camila climbed off my face with her pussy soaked in my saliva, turned around, and pressed herself against Lucía’s side to get a better view. She put her fingers into her own pussy while watching her sister’s cock rise and fall. Then she bent down abruptly and licked Lucía’s clitoris from the front while I was still inside her. I felt Camila’s tongue sliding along my shaft every time Lucía lifted herself. Lucía cried out, folded forward, and came in two long shudders, her thighs trembling on either side of my hips, her pussy squeezing my cock in spasms.

She pulled away, panting, and pushed Camila toward me.

“Now her,” she said, her voice broken. “Fuck her properly, Bruno. She’s been asking me for it for a year.”

Camila got on all fours beside the mattress, her face against the pillow, her ass raised, her back arched. I saw her pussy open and shining, with her small asshole higher up. I knelt behind her, grabbed one cheek with each hand, and drove my cock into her with one thrust. She screamed into the pillow. She was so tight that my vision blurred. I began fucking her hard, pounding her from behind, her buttocks bouncing against my pubis with a smack audible over the air conditioner. Lucía got behind me, pressed against my back, reached around to stroke my balls while I fucked her sister.

“Harder,” Lucía whispered in my ear. “Break her. Make her remember.”

Camila moaned into the pillow, begging for more, pushing her ass backward to take me deeper. I grabbed her hair bun and pulled her head back, then gave her a series of rapid thrusts that left her drooling on the sheet. We changed again: Lucía lay on her back, Camila positioned herself above her in a sixty-nine, and I kept fucking her from behind while she ate her sister’s pussy. I could see her tongue going in and out of Lucía at a disorderly rhythm each time I thrust into her from behind.

The positions changed on their own, as if they had been rehearsing them long before I arrived. There were hands where I hadn’t expected hands. There were kisses where I hadn’t expected kisses. At some point they lay side by side on their backs, legs spread, their two pussies next to each other, and told me to fuck them alternately. Five thrusts into one, five into the other, pulling my wet cock from one pussy to drive it into the other without wiping it. They begged me not to stop, to mix them together, to feel each other through me.

When I realized I wasn’t going to last much longer, I told them. They both sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulder to shoulder, their tits pressed together, and opened their mouths. I knelt in front of them and began jerking myself off over both their faces. I came in a long, thick stream that landed on Lucía’s upper lip, on Camila’s tongue, and in both their cleavage. They licked the remnants from each other with a long, sloppy kiss, passing my cum from one mouth to the other while I watched them with trembling knees.

The three of us fell asleep on the mattress at dawn, sweaty and sticky, the sheets tangled at the foot of the beds. The air conditioner was still humming. The first light came through the window, still gray, and the birds began singing outside.

We didn’t speak of it again over breakfast. Camila set the table. Lucía made coffee. I folded up the mattress and put it back on the bed, and no one said a word. When their parents arrived at noon, I was exactly the formal boyfriend they expected.

On the train home, Lucía fell asleep against my shoulder again. I looked out the window for two and a half hours. I thought perhaps what had happened that night had been an experiment that wouldn’t be repeated. I thought perhaps it would. Lucía shifted in her sleep and squeezed my hand on my lap.

Christmas was three months away. We would return to that house.