The Afternoon Sandra and Valentina Chose Me

The day had started badly and had only gotten worse since nine in the morning. Six years working as a systems analyst at the same consulting firm, six years putting up with the daily humiliations from Bergara, my area director, until that morning, in front of the whole team gathered in the conference room, something inside me broke. I threw coffee on him. I didn’t hit him, but it was enough for them to escort me down to reception with my things in an archive box.

I got to my apartment at two in the afternoon with my adrenaline still surging and a knot in my stomach that would not ease. I had next month’s rent unpaid, a couple of minor debts, and probably a disciplinary file on the way. What I also had was a folder of internal emails with accounting irregularities Bergara would prefer did not exist. That was my only bargaining chip.

I showered, put on an old T-shirt, and poured myself a glass of red wine. The phone would not stop vibrating — coworkers asking questions, friends who had already heard — so I put it on silent and left it face down on the side table.

Then the doorbell rang.

The police, I thought. Bergara had followed through on his threat.

But no. It was Sandra, the neighbor from the apartment across the hall.

We had been living on the same floor for three years, and Sandra had always been a kind, discreet presence: greetings in the elevator, the occasional brief chat about the weather or the neighbors on the fourth floor. She was forty-eight, though no one would have guessed it. She went to the gym five days a week, and it showed in the way she carried herself. Her husband, Roberto, had been finance director for a logistics company until he was arrested eight months earlier for embezzlement. Something close to four hundred thousand euros that never made it where it was supposed to go. Since then, Sandra had been managing the apartment and their two children on her own.

—Sorry to bother you —she said when I opened the door—. The blinds in the bedroom have been stuck for three days, and with this heat coming in…

She looked at my face and frowned.

—Are you all right?

—More or less.

It wasn’t the time to tell her anything, but she had that way of asking that made vague answers difficult. Ten minutes later I was sitting in her kitchen, my glass still in my hand and her bottle on the counter, telling her about Bergara and the coffee.

—I have a good lawyer —she said when I finished—. The same one handling Roberto’s case. If you need him, I’ll introduce you this week.

It took me three minutes to fix the blinds: the cord had jammed in the track. A stupid thing. I was about to go back to my place when Sandra suddenly went still, staring at the floor, and started crying quietly. It wasn’t a dramatic sob. It was the crying of someone who has been holding on for months and has run out of reserve.

—I’m sorry —she murmured—. It’s just that with Valentina, I don’t know how to manage on my own. Roberto always knew what to do, what to say. I get lost.

—Valentina? —I asked, because if I wasn’t mistaken, her children were Valentina, twenty-four, and Lucas, twenty-two.

Sandra lifted her gaze.

—Valentina was born as Víctor —she said carefully—. Ever since he was little, he asked to be treated like a girl. At first we thought it was a phase, but at fifteen he was still the same, and at sixteen we knew for sure it wasn’t. We went to specialists, Roberto and I supported him through the whole hormone treatment process. At nineteen he changed his name legally. Valentina has been who she is for years, and I’m proud of her. But there are things I don’t know how to support her with without him by my side.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Sometimes that’s the most honest thing.

We kept talking for a long while, first standing in the kitchen and then sitting on the sofa with a second glass poured. She told me how much she missed Roberto, not only as a father but as a partner, as someone who was simply there. That for months she hadn’t felt desired. That sometimes she forgot what that felt like.

—In every sense —she said, looking straight at me—. It’s been eight months since anyone has touched me. Not a finger. Do you understand?

I understood perfectly.

I don’t know who moved first. I think we both did at the same time, in that way things happen when they’ve been happening for a while without anyone naming them. The first kiss was soft, almost a question. The second one wasn’t.

Sandra had warm lips and smelled of that floral perfume I had always noticed in the hallway without knowing whose it was. When she slid her fingers behind my neck, something in my chest loosened for the first time all day. I touched her side, ran my hand down her back, grabbed a breast over the bra and felt the nipple harden against the fabric. She pressed her fingers into my shoulder and gave a short moan.

—This isn’t right —she murmured between kisses, though she didn’t pull away.

—Probably not —I admitted.

I unbuttoned her blouse one button at a time without taking my mouth from hers, and she undid my belt with a calm that turned me on more than any urgency would have. When I took off her bra and saw her breasts —firm, medium-sized, with dark, very hard nipples— I went straight down with my mouth. I sucked one nipple while pinching the other between thumb and forefinger. Sandra threw her head back and dug her nails into my neck.

—Fuck —she gasped—. Fuck, keep going.

I lifted her dress and slid two fingers inside slowly, pushing her panties aside. She was soaked through. Her cunt was dripping, and I could feel how her lips parted on their own when I rubbed her slit from top to bottom with two fingers. I circled her clit with my thumb in slow motions and she closed her eyes and pressed her thighs against my hand without saying a word, moving her hips to seek more pressure.

—Put them in —she whispered—. Put them in now.

I sank two fingers all the way in. She was so wet they slipped in without resistance, and I felt how she closed around them. I started pumping slowly, curving my fingers upward, searching for the spot inside while my thumb kept working her clit. Sandra opened her legs wide on the sofa and grabbed my wrist to set the pace she wanted. Faster. Deeper. Short, broken moans were slipping out of her, and I could feel her cunt starting to clench around my fingers in spasms.

—Wait, wait —she gasped suddenly—. I want to taste you first.

She knelt between my legs and yanked down my pants and underwear in one motion. My cock sprang out hard as a rock, and she took it at the base with one hand, looked at it for a second, and lowered her mouth. She started at the tip, unhurried, sucking it with her lips sealed around the glans while her hand moved up and down the shaft. Then she opened wider and began taking it in little by little, swallowing it until I felt the back of her throat, pulling it out slowly, coating it with spit before taking it back in again.

I tangled my fingers in her hair and stopped thinking about Bergara, the police, next month’s rent. Sandra sucked me with hunger, with that hunger built up over eight months without anything, hollowing her cheeks each time she came up, making an obscene wet sound every time she swallowed me again. Every so often she took me all the way out, licked my balls one by one, and took me back down to the base. I pushed her head without forcing her, just setting the rhythm, and she looked up at me from below with shining eyes and a smile around my cock.

—If you keep that up, I’m going to cum in your mouth —I warned her.

—Not yet —she said, taking me out with a pop—. Not yet.

***

The apartment door opened.

Sandra didn’t notice. I did, because my head was lifted. In the living room doorway was Valentina, with a shopping bag in each hand and the keys still hanging from the lock. She was staring at the scene without moving.

She was tall and slim, with shoulder-length brown hair. She resembled her mother in the cheekbones and the shape of her eyes. And she said absolutely nothing.

She set the bags on the floor. The keys on the sideboard. Took off her shoes slowly. And sat down in the armchair opposite, crossing her legs, not taking her eyes off her mother’s cock sliding back into Sandra’s mouth.

Sandra finally lifted her head, looked at both of us, and pulled away sharply, her chin shining with spit.

—Valentina, I…

—It’s okay, Mom. —Valentina’s voice was calm, almost amused—. We’ve talked about this for a long time.

She looked at me.

—The two of us have talked about this for a long time —she repeated.

She got up from the armchair and came straight toward me. She kissed me on the mouth without hesitation, with a confidence that left me frozen for a second. She lowered her hand and grabbed my cock, still wet from her mother’s mouth, and began stroking me slowly while she kept kissing me. Then she pulled back just enough to turn her head toward Sandra.

—The only thing I won’t forgive you for is not warning me.

Sandra let out a nervous laugh that didn’t last long.

Valentina was wearing jeans and a tank top. When she took off the shirt, I saw she had breasts, not very big but defined, with very small, very hard pink nipples, the result of years of hormone treatment. I bent down and sucked one while unfastening the button on her jeans. I slid my hand inside, and she made a small move as if to pull back. I held her calmly by the waist.

—There are no secrets with me —I told her.

She relaxed. I put my hand all the way down inside her pants. I grabbed it. It was hard, thick, wider than I expected, and leaking at the tip. I pulled it out of her pants in one tug and started moving my hand up and down over the foreskin, listening to her breathe faster and faster against my neck. She hadn’t completed surgical transition. I didn’t care at all. What mattered was that she wanted to be there, and she wanted it clearly.

—Lie down —I said, pointing to the sofa.

Valentina let herself fall back, her jeans halfway down her legs and her hard cock pressed against her stomach. Sandra was already completely naked, watching us, one hand between her legs and her fingers moving slowly over her own cunt. I put a hand on Valentina’s chest and lowered my mouth down her torso until I reached her cock. I took it by the base and put it in my mouth without thinking too much. It was the first time I had sucked anyone off, but the logic was the same as one I’d received a thousand times: tongue working the tip, lips tight on the shaft, hand helping where the mouth couldn’t reach.

Valentina let out a long moan and grabbed my head with both hands.

—Fuck, fuck —she gasped—. Mom, look at this.

Sandra came up from the other side and started sucking her daughter’s nipple while watching me suck her off. I lifted my head for a second and Sandra knelt beside me; we took turns then, one suck from her, one from me, our tongues meeting at the tip of Valentina’s cock, kissing with her daughter’s cock between our mouths.

—Enough or I’m cumming right now —Valentina said, gently pulling us apart.

The three of us went to work as a team with a coordination only years of trust can explain. Well, two years. Sandra got down on her knees on the floor between my legs and took me back in her mouth, this time with Valentina kneeling beside her. They alternated: first Sandra on the tip, then Valentina at the base, then both licking me from opposite angles as if I were an ice cream. Sandra was slow and methodical with her mouth. Valentina was more direct and impatient. They positioned me between them and began in parallel, each at her own pace, and my hands were busy —one on Sandra’s neck, the other jerking Valentina off— trying not to let myself go too soon.

Sandra was the first to get on top. She did it slowly, eyes closed, gripping my cock with one hand to guide it and lowering her hips centimeter by centimeter. When the tip forced its way between her lips, I felt the wet heat that had been waiting for me for months. She came all the way down until her ass touched my thighs, drew a deep breath, and stayed still there for a second, mouth open, my cock buried all the way inside her.

—So long —she whispered, more to herself than to me—. It’s been so long since anyone fucked me.

She started moving. First slowly, rolling her hips, and then really bouncing, her breasts bobbing in front of my face and her hands braced on my chest. Her cunt clenched around me on every downward stroke as if it didn’t want to let go.

Valentina knelt behind her mother, spread her ass cheeks, and ran her tongue slowly over her hole. Sandra arched her back and gave a hoarse cry, and sped up on top of me. My hands were on her hips following every movement, and I looked at Valentina, who looked back at me with a smile while she kept eating her mother’s ass, pushing her tongue inside, spitting on her, slipping a finger in. Her cock was hard and stiff against Sandra’s ass, thicker than it was long, and when Sandra nodded at her without stopping her motion on top of me, Valentina straightened, spat in her hand, slicked her cock, and lined it up with her mother’s ass.

I felt the pressure almost immediately: Sandra froze for a moment while her daughter pushed from behind, pressing me tighter against her cunt. She let out a long, low moan when Valentina penetrated her all the way, and then she started moving again with both cocks inside, more slowly, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. I could feel Valentina through the wall: every time she thrust, Valentina’s cock brushed against mine inside Sandra’s body, separated only by a thin partition of flesh. Sandra moved as if she knew exactly how to handle each one, coordinating the rhythm, lowering her ass back to receive her daughter and rising again to swallow me whole. Valentina kissed me over Sandra’s shoulder and rubbed her chest against my hand while she kept driving into her from behind.

—Double —Sandra panted—. God, double, I can’t take it, I can’t take it anymore.

But she could. Oh yes, she could. Her first climax came there, with both cocks inside, squeezing me so hard it almost dragged me with her. Her whole body trembled, her thighs went taut, and she let out a cry she didn’t even try to hide. Valentina held her by the hips so she wouldn’t fall forward, and kept pushing her ass at a slow rhythm until Sandra stopped shaking.

***

When Sandra got off to rest, her legs still trembling, Valentina came toward me.

—Will you try me? —she asked, direct.

It was an honest question. It deserved an honest answer.

—Yes.

She turned around and got on all fours on the rug, her ass raised and her back arched. I ran my thumb over it first, feeling how it opened and closed on its own, and I spat into my hand to lubricate the cock that was still shining from Sandra’s cunt. I placed it at her entrance and pushed slowly, carefully, letting her set when to keep going. The head was wide, and entering felt completely unmistakable. When I heard her let out her breath and relax her shoulders, I pushed a little farther in, all the way to the base, until my balls touched her ass from below.

—Jesus —she murmured—. That head really can be felt going in.

I picked up the rhythm little by little. At first short thrusts, barely pulling out at all, letting her get used to it; then longer strokes, pulling almost all the way out before driving it back in to the hilt. I grabbed her hip with one hand and her cock with the other, still hard and dangling between her legs, and started moving it at the same pace as my thrusts. Sandra sat beside us, legs open and fingers back inside her cunt, watching, with a smile that wasn’t exactly a mother’s smile but something more mixed than that. Valentina moaned softly and moved back to meet each thrust, clenching her ass every time I went in all the way.

—Harder —she asked—. Fuck me harder, I’m not going to break.

I gave it to her harder. I grabbed her hair, wrapped it around my fist, and started fucking her for real, the sound of thighs slapping against her ass filling the living room. Valentina screamed at every hit, braced on her elbows, face pressed to the rug, and I could feel her cock hardening even more in my hand and dripping onto my fingers.

—Now you —Valentina said suddenly, turning toward me with shining eyes.

I had never done it before. I thought about it for a second. I’d already broken enough rules that day for one more not to change anything. I told her yes.

Sandra made me kneel with my chest supported on the sofa, ass out, and spread my cheeks with her hands while Valentina took position behind me. First, Valentina bent down and ran her tongue slowly over my hole, wetting me completely, slipping the tip in and out, coating me well while I gripped the back of the sofa and breathed deeply. Then I felt the tip of her cock pressing against the entrance. She pushed. It was slow at first, very slow, with pressure that hurt a little at the beginning and then turned into something completely different. The wide head forced its way in and I felt the rest slide inside until I felt her hips against mine.

—Hold still a second —she gasped—. You’re really tight.

Sandra positioned herself in front of me, knelt down, and took my cock in her mouth at the same time. She started sucking me while Valentina moved from behind with short thrusts, searching for the angle. When the rhythm was set, I felt a precise pressure in an internal spot that made any orderly thought hard to keep. Every time Valentina pushed, she pressed the tip against my prostate and I pushed forward into Sandra’s mouth without being able to stop myself, fucking her throat by reflex. Sandra swallowed and came back up, swallowed and came back up, her hands on my thighs.

Valentina sped up. Harder and harder, faster and faster, gripping my hips and driving into me to the hilt with hard, dry thrusts. Sandra started sucking me with even more hunger, and I could feel myself about to lose it at any moment, my cock in the mother’s mouth and the daughter’s cock buried in my ass. At some point I lost track of which part of me belonged to whom, and I felt Valentina tense, push hard one last time, and fill my rectum with a heat I was absolutely not expecting. I felt every jet unloading inside me, with Valentina growling against my nape, trembling over me.

—Don’t take it out —Sandra said, straightening up, her mouth still shiny from sucking me off.

She positioned herself on top of me with her back to the sofa, spread her legs, and made me lower her to the floor. I lay back on the rug with Valentina still inside me, and Sandra sat on my cock again, looking at both of us. If the daughter’s was one thing, the mother’s was another. My cock sank all the way into Sandra’s dripping cunt, and I pushed up from below as much as I could, with Valentina slowly slipping out from behind and her cum running down my thighs. Sandra gripped my ankles, threw her head back, and started bouncing on my cock at a furious pace, making obscene wet noises every time her cunt came down fully.

—Put it all the way in —she panted—. All of it, fuck, all of it.

Valentina finished sliding out and knelt beside her mother, then started sucking her breasts while Sandra fucked me. She bit one nipple. Sandra screamed. I clenched my teeth, grabbed her hips, and pushed from below, driving into her by force on every downward stroke, faster, deeper. Sandra started trembling again, her second orgasm climbing up her legs, and this time I couldn’t hold back. Everything spilled out at once. I shot inside her in spasms that almost lifted me off the floor, filling her from within while she collapsed backward on top of me, still moving her hips to squeeze the last drop out of me.

—Ugh —she simply said, with my cum dripping back over my balls—. I needed this.

The three of us lay on the rug staring at the ceiling, not speaking for a while, listening to our breathing. Valentina curled up against my side. Sandra let herself drop on the other side.

—Me too —Valentina said at last.

I said nothing. But it was true.

***

Valentina went to the kitchen for water. Sandra stayed beside me.

—Are you staying for dinner?

The doorbell to my apartment rang from the landing. Once, twice. I got dressed as best I could and crossed the hall.

It was two local police officers. Bergara had filed a complaint. They asked me to come with them to the station to give a statement.

Sandra’s lawyer, Montoya, spoke to me that same night. He explained that the coffee incident did not amount to assault and that Bergara’s history of workplace harassment clearly worked in my favor. The next day we went together to the mediation hearing: I apologized before the judge, explained the context, signed a confidentiality agreement, and left with a financial settlement that gave me enough room for almost a year without working. I sublet the apartment to an acquaintance who had been looking for a place in the area for some time.

I went back to the building that afternoon. Sandra was in the hallway waiting for the elevator.

—How did it go? —she asked.

—Better than expected.

We went up together in silence. On the fourth floor, before she took out her keys, she looked at me for a moment.

—Valentina asks if you’re staying for dinner tonight.

I put mine in my pocket.

—Tell her yes.