The Afternoon Her Brother Walked In Without Knocking

The night before had been long. Sofía, Daniela, and I had all ended up exhausted and tangled together in the big bed in Sofía’s room, and when I woke up it was already almost the afternoon of the next day. I slipped out on tiptoe without making a sound, picked up the clothes from the floor, and sneaked away without waking either of them.

When I got home, my mother asked me if I’d had a good time. I told her yes, that we’d watched movies and the night had slipped away from us without us noticing. It wasn’t entirely a lie: the night had slipped away from us without us noticing too, only the movie had been a different one —one where Daniela spread my legs and licked my cunt while Sofía covered my mouth with hers so I wouldn’t scream.

I flopped onto my bed still fully dressed, too tired to take anything off. I fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

When the phone vibrated, it was noon and the screen said “Sofía.” I answered groggily.

“Hey,” she said in that half-serious tone she uses when she wants you to guess what’s going on. “You left something here.”

“What?”

“Your bra. It’s on the floor, next to the bed. I would’ve kept it, but it’s not my size. Though if you came to pick it up, I can think of a couple of things to do with your tits before giving it back.”

I laughed. I told her I’d come by later to get it and closed my eyes again, even though I already knew I wasn’t going to sleep any more. There was something in her voice that had me wide awake: that complicit emphasis on the last words, as if the bra were just an excuse. It was an excuse. We both knew it. And just thinking about it was enough to feel my cunt start to wet.

I showered, got dressed, and told my mother I was going to a friend’s place to pick up the watch I’d left there. That was the first thing I came up with. The watch was enough.

***

Sofía opened the door before I even reached the landing. She was wearing a long T-shirt and her hair was tied up carelessly, with that just-woke-up look that suited her better than it did most people when they were fully dressed up. She wasn’t wearing anything under the T-shirt; her nipples showed through the cotton. She looked me up and down with a smile that needed no words.

“Come in,” she said.

The flat was quiet. Daniela had already gone, I assumed. I went straight to the room and there was my bra, hanging from the arm of the desk chair. Sofía came in behind me and closed the door.

“Found it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She didn’t move toward the bra. She moved toward me.

She took my face in both hands and kissed me slowly, like we had the whole afternoon ahead of us. She smelled like soap and something else I couldn’t identify but would recognize anywhere. I kissed her back, tongue all the way into her mouth, and she answered by biting my lower lip. Her hands slid to my waist and pulled me toward her without roughness, with that certainty of hers that never seemed calculated. I grabbed one breast over the T-shirt and pinched her nipple; a gasp slipped out of her into my mouth.

“Daniela?” I asked between one kiss and the next.

“Left hours ago. We’re alone. You can scream as much as you want this time.”

I took off my jacket. She yanked her T-shirt off in one go and stood naked from the waist up, with the small, firm tits I already knew by heart and hard nipples pointing at me. I undid my pants and let them fall. The rest followed with that own logic bodies have when there’s nothing left to think and everything is touch and heat and presence.

I gently pushed her toward the bed and she let herself fall backward, already without panties —she had nothing under the T-shirt, nothing below either—. I stood over her for a moment. She had that way of lying back that always unsettled me a little: arms at her sides, still, waiting, unhurried, thighs parted and her cunt already shining wet, as if she knew exactly what was going to happen and that made her more comfortable than nervous.

I finished taking off the little clothes she still had on, slowly. She didn’t say anything, just lifted her hips to help me. When I got to her neck with my mouth she did speak, but not in words: it was a short, restrained sound that told me I was going in the right direction.

Sofía was noisy when she wanted to be, and when she wanted to be it wasn’t to show off but because she couldn’t help it. I liked that. I liked knowing that what I was doing mattered to her, that the response she gave me was involuntary. I put my hand on her belly and felt her tense. I slid my fingers down her mound until I found her swollen clit, and just brushing it made her back arch.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking about this all morning.”

I went down her body without hurry. I paused at every place I knew mattered to her: I licked her nipples one after the other until they were hard as stones, I bit the skin of her belly just below her navel, I licked the inside of her thighs until she started rocking her hips, asking for more. She tangled her fingers in my hair and squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, just enough for me to know I was doing it right. I gently spread her knees and she let out a breath with a sound that was neither a moan nor an exclamation, something in between, something that only exists in that particular moment.

I ran my tongue over the whole slit of her cunt, bottom to top, slowly, tasting her. She tasted like herself, like that mix of hers I already knew and that drove me crazy. I parted her lips with two fingers and pushed my tongue inside, then went up to suck her clit and slipped in a finger, then two. She moaned out loud and pressed my head against her cunt with both hands.

I heard her breathing get faster. Her hips moved toward me, fucking my face without the slightest shame.

That was when the door opened.

He didn’t knock. He just walked in. And for a second the three of us froze: Sofía jerked up with her tits bare and her cunt still shiny with saliva and my own juices, I was on my knees on the bed with a wet mouth and not entirely sure what to do with my hands, and he —who turned out to be her brother Marcos, though it took me a couple of minutes to realize it— stood there in the doorway with his gym bag still in his hand.

He was tall. Sleeveless shirt, sweatpants, wet hair. He’d just finished training, obviously. You could see it in the tension in his neck, in that particular exhaustion the body gets after physical exertion. And you could see something else too: through the sweatpants, a bulge growing by the second.

“Sorry,” he said. But he didn’t leave.

Sofía stared at him for a second. I knew her well enough to know that in that second she was making a decision. Then she looked at me. And then she looked back at him.

“Marcos,” she said. “Close the door.”

He closed it. From the inside.

I wasn’t expecting that. Neither of us, I think, were expecting that particular response. But there he was, bag on the floor and arms crossed, waiting to see what happened next, with his cock showing more and more clearly against the fabric of his pants.

“What are you doing?” Sofía asked him, and there was something in her voice that wasn’t exactly a question.

“Waiting,” he answered, without taking his eyes off me.

Sofía let out a short laugh. Then she looked at me with one eyebrow raised, as if to say: your call.

I thought about what made sense. It took me less than three seconds to rule it out.

“Sit down,” I said.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Up close he was more concrete: the width of his shoulders, the clean cut of his jaw, a small scar on his left cheek that didn’t take anything away. I reached out and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He let me, without moving, just raising his arms. He had a defined chest, still shining with gym sweat.

I slid my hand down his belly to his pants and slipped it inside. His cock was hard, thick, hot. I gripped it at the base and pulled it out into the open. My mouth watered just looking at it. Marcos clenched his teeth when I wrapped my hand around him and started pumping him slowly, drawing the foreskin up and down, feeling the vein pounding beneath it.

Sofía knelt behind me and started unbuttoning my blouse while I kept looking at her brother and jerking him off with my hand. It was an odd situation and a perfect one at the same time: the familiarity of her behind me, the novelty of him in front of me. The contrast made everything feel more intense, like when there are two different sources of light and neither one cancels the other out.

Sofía finished stripping me. She took off my blouse, my bra, my pants, and my soaked panties, and pressed herself against my naked back while licking my neck and squeezing my tits from the front. She pinched both my nipples at once with her thumbs.

“Suck him,” she whispered in my ear. “I want to see you sucking my brother’s cock.”

I leaned forward and took it into my mouth. It was hot and salty, with that taste of a man who’d been sweating. I sucked him in all at once until he hit the back of my throat and made me cough a little, then came back up slowly, running my tongue around the tip before swallowing him down again. Marcos moaned for the first time, a low, contained moan, and put a hand on the back of my neck, not squeezing, just keeping pace with me.

Sofía was looking at me from behind. I felt her slide a hand between my legs from back there and find my cunt dripping. She shoved two fingers into me and ripped a moan out of me with Marcos’s cock still in my mouth. We both vibrated with that sound.

“She’s soaking,” she told him. “You should notice.”

She pulled my mouth off his cock by yanking my hair back. I leaned between the two of them. Sofía kissed my neck from behind and spread my legs with hers. Marcos waited until I put my hand on his chest, and then he moved in. He lined the tip of his cock up with my cunt and dragged it all over the slit, wetting himself with me, rubbing it against my clit until a frustrated whine escaped me.

“Put it in,” I begged him. “Now.”

He pushed in slowly. My cunt opened to take him and I felt him entering centimeter by centimeter, thick, hard, all the way to the bottom. I closed my eyes and let out my breath in one rush. Sofía covered my mouth with hers and swallowed my moan.

What followed wasn’t chaotic. That’s what I remember most about that afternoon: the three of us found a rhythm without anyone saying it out loud. Sofía knew what I needed because she already knew from the night before. Marcos learned fast and paid attention. There was no clumsiness or misdirected urgency, only that particular concentration sex has when the people taking part are truly present.

Marcos started fucking me with long, deep thrusts, gripping my hips with both hands. Every time he drove all the way in, a growl slipped out of him, and an even sharper moan from me. Sofía straddled my face, facing him, and lowered her cunt to my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and started licking her while her brother kept fucking me from below.

Marcos had the patience of someone who had nothing to prove, and that surprised me. He didn’t push or direct; he responded. When I changed position, he adapted. When Sofía said something to him under her breath, he listened. That isn’t as common as it should be.

I sucked Sofía’s clit until her whole body started trembling and she pressed my thighs against my ears. I heard her moan uncontrollably for the first time in hours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeated as she moved over my face. “I’m gonna come in your mouth.”

And she did. She came in a long spasm, squeezing my head between her thighs, and I swallowed everything that spilled into my mouth without stopping licking her clit until the last tremor.

She pulled away, panting. She shifted position and lay down beside me. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. It was different kissing her than kissing him: softer, more familiar, with her taste still mixed into my own mouth. Then I turned my head and kissed Marcos. It was harder, more direct, with less detour. I felt a sound in his chest that never quite became a voice. Sofía took that moment to slide her hand down and rub my clit while her brother kept fucking me.

At one point I opened my eyes and looked at both of them. Marcos had his neck thrown back and his eyes closed, driving into me harder. Sofía lifted her gaze to mine and winked at me with a naturalness that made me laugh, something I wasn’t expecting to be able to do in that moment but that somehow made everything feel even more real.

The three of us reorganized on the bed with that strange fluidity bodies have when shame no longer takes up any space. Marcos pulled out of me for a moment —his cock shining with my juices— and they put me on all fours. Sofía lay underneath me, on her back, with her cunt right under my face, and Marcos positioned himself behind me and shoved back in with one thrust.

I moaned against her cunt. I started licking her again while he fucked me from behind faster and faster, flesh against flesh making that wet, obscene sound that filled the whole room. Sofía and I took turns: sometimes I sucked her, other times she propped herself up and sucked my hanging tits or shoved her fingers into my mouth. Marcos kept up with the rhythm we set for him without complaining.

“Open your eyes,” I said at one point, when I managed to lift my face from Sofía’s cunt.

He opened them. He looked at me in a way I couldn’t quite categorize, but it didn’t leave me indifferent. Without looking away, he slid his thumb into my ass. I howled.

“Slowly,” I murmured, though I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was asking him to stop or to keep going.

He entered that other place slowly when the time came —later, when Sofía slipped out from under me and stood beside me, spreading my ass cheeks with both hands to make room for her brother—. It hurt at first, the kind of pain that isn’t exactly bad but takes up space until it stops. Sofía was beside me with one hand on my hip and the other on my clit, rubbing it in little circles, and that helped keep me anchored while the rest adjusted. It took me a couple of minutes to get used to the weight of his body, to the way he moved, different from anything I knew. I looked at her. Sofía looked back at me with an expression that was half affection and half something nameless, and I surprised myself by thinking that this —all of it— was also a kind of intimacy.

After that it didn’t hurt anymore. After that it was just movement and heat and the sound of the three of us breathing in the same room, and Marcos’s cock driving deeper and deeper into me, and Sofía’s fingers never leaving my cunt.

Sofía moved in front of me and we kissed while he kept going behind me, faster and rougher each time. She slipped two fingers into my cunt at the same time her brother kept fucking me from the other side, and I felt both things at once, both pressures, both ways of filling me. I don’t know how long it lasted. I didn’t measure it. At some point we both came together, almost at the same time —me screaming into her mouth, her shaking against my fingers that I had inside her—, and he didn’t take much longer: he pulled out at the very last second and came over my back with a rough, drawn-out groan, hot streams that Sofía then spread across my skin with her hand afterward, almost tenderly.

***

The three of us stayed still. Afternoon light had slipped through the blind in strips that crossed the ceiling diagonally.

Marcos fell asleep first. I heard him make that transition from ragged breathing to deep breathing, that calm descent bodies make when they have nothing left to do. When I looked at Sofía, her eyes were closed too. I stayed there for a moment staring at the ceiling, with Sofía’s hand on my arm and Marcos’s body beside me, still feeling his semen drying on the skin of my back.

I wasn’t going to forget this afternoon. I already knew that.

I sat up slowly. I gathered my clothes from the floor in silence: the blouse, the pants, the underwear. This time, the bra too, still on the desk chair where I’d found it when I arrived. I slipped it into my bag without making a sound.

I got dressed in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. My hair was a mess, my lips were swollen, there was still a smear of semen on my hip that I wiped off with a bit of paper, and I had an expression that wasn’t exactly pride but wasn’t exactly shame either. It was something else. Something close to the quiet satisfaction of someone who’s done exactly what she wanted to do and doesn’t need to convince herself it was right.

I picked up my things, went out into the hallway, and closed the door without making a sound.

The street was full of normal people doing normal things. I walked among them with the bra in my bag, my cunt still swollen and throbbing beneath my panties, and my head still halfway in that room, in that striped light, between those two sleeping bodies.

***

I haven’t seen Marcos again. Sofía and I still keep seeing each other, though things between us are different since then: more comfortable in some ways, more complicated in others. That’s what happens when you cross certain lines with someone; there’s no way to go exactly back to where you started.

But the starting point wasn’t all that interesting either.