The Oral Confession with the Maid’s Sister

Our maid’s sister arrived at the house on a Monday afternoon, when the heat still clung to the walls and the patio smelled of wet earth. My mother welcomed her with the natural ease one shows someone recommended by a trusted person, and asked me to show her where she would sleep and which parts of the house she would be expected to look after. From the moment I saw her, I knew it was going to be hard to pretend indifference.

Her name was Luciana. She was an adult woman, with clear eyes and very fair skin, the kind of clean beauty that needed no effort to assert itself. She wore a simple dress and carried a small suitcase, and although she tried to look serious, she had a way of smiling from the side of her mouth that seemed like an involuntary provocation.

I took her to the room at the back, beside the outside bathroom and near the garden. I showed her the small swimming pool, the vegetable garden, the fruit trees, and the wall separating our property from that of some relatives. She listened attentively, but from time to time I caught her looking at me longer than she should, as if she wanted to find out what kind of man I was.

During the first few days, she quickly learned everything she had to do. She moved around the house with ease, helped in the kitchen, tidied the rooms, and in the afternoons, when the work slowed down, sat watching television or playing cards with us. Normally, she would simply have fit in, but something began to grow between her and me that was anything but normal.

At first, they were silly little touches. My hand on her waist as we passed through a narrow doorway. Her fingers brushing my wrist when she handed me a glass. My knee seeking hers when we sat close together. Nothing that could give us away, nothing anyone couldn’t attribute to coincidence, but we both knew perfectly well it wasn’t coincidence.

Then came the looks. I would catch her drying her hair in front of the window of her room, her robe loosely fastened, and spend a few seconds too long watching the curve of her legs. She caught me once, but instead of closing the curtain, she merely held my gaze and continued drying herself with calculated slowness. That was when I understood that she didn’t merely desire me: she was learning to enjoy being desired by me.

One afternoon I entered her room on some pretext and found her getting dressed. She hadn’t buttoned her dress yet, and for an instant I saw her small, firm breasts, the skin of her belly, and the edge of her panties riding up over her hips. She didn’t scream or cover herself right away. She only told me to knock next time, but with a smile that canceled out the reprimand.

That silent game became a habit. We sought each other out whenever we could, never speaking about the obvious. She knew I could get her into trouble if anyone discovered us; I knew she could push me away with a single complaint. And yet she came closer every time, as though the tension drove her just as it drove me.

The first truly intimate moment happened one day when the house was almost empty. My mother had gone out, my brother was in the neighbors’ garden, and Luciana’s sister had gone shopping. I found her in her room, sitting on the bed with a book in her hands and a light robe barely tied at the waist.

—Are you going to take a bath? —I asked, just to say something.

—I’m waiting for the hot water to come out —she replied.

I sat beside her. We talked a little about nothing in particular, until the silence began to weigh more than the words. I was the first to lean in, and she didn’t pull away. Her mouth was softer than I’d imagined, but hungrier too. She returned my kiss with an urgency that belied all her apparent prudence.

My hand slid along her bare thigh beneath the robe. She tensed, not in rejection but from nerves. When I found the wet heat between her legs, she let out a short moan and grabbed my wrist, as though she wanted to stop me and at the same time didn’t want me to stop touching her.

—Slowly —she whispered.

I stroked her pussy through the fabric, with my fingertips, feeling her grow wetter. Her hair was soft and she was almost trembling with sensitivity; every brush made her open her legs a little farther. When I brought a finger to her entrance and pressed lightly, she whimpered and closed her thighs.

—Never... —she said, embarrassed—. I’ve never been with anyone.

I looked into her eyes and pulled my hand away, not because I didn’t want her, but because I understood that fear was competing with desire inside her. I told her I wouldn’t put anything inside her if she wasn’t ready, that there was no hurry. She nodded, and for a moment I thought it would end there. But hunger had already awakened in both of us.

There was no innocence in her. It was curiosity. And curiosity, when mixed with desire, burns worse than experience.

Later, when she sat with me in front of the television again, she avoided looking directly at me, but her legs kept brushing mine. Shortly afterward, we were asked to keep watch from the patio over some relatives playing in the adjoining garden while the other girl went to get bread and a few other things. That excuse left us alone near the wall, looking outward, our bodies far too close to each other.

I stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Luciana didn’t move. I spoke into her ear about some nonsense to make it seem natural, but my hand was already moving slowly down her hip until it stayed squeezing one cheek over her skirt. She turned her head to look at me. I smiled. She drew a deep breath and looked forward again, letting me continue.

I caressed her between the edge of her skirt and the upper part of her thigh, slipping my fingers in little by little. Her skin was warm and delicate, so sensitive that it raised gooseflesh at the slightest touch. When I moved higher and brushed the center of her panties, she opened her legs just a little and leaned her forearms against the wall.

—If you don’t want this, I’ll stop —I murmured.

—Don’t stop —she answered, so softly it was almost a moan.

I lifted her skirt slowly, savoring the sight of her firm thighs and round ass beneath the tight fabric of her panties. I began by kissing her through the cloth, first one cheek and then the other, squeezing them with my hands while she shifted between nervous laughter and increasingly broken breaths.

I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties and lowered them little by little. She raised one foot, then the other, helping without saying a word. When the fabric fell to her ankles, I held it in my hand for a second before setting it aside. Seeing her like that, her skirt gathered up and her bare ass facing me, made me so hard I had to bite my lip to keep from pushing her against the wall right there and fucking her without another thought.

But I had promised not to. And that afternoon I wasn’t going to betray either her trust or her fear.

I spread her cheeks with my hands and lowered my mouth. My tongue traveled along her entire cleft first, slowly, from the bottom up to her pussy. Luciana let out a sharp gasp and opened her legs wider. I did it again, this time more firmly, taking her taste fully into my mouth. She was wet and hot, and every lick made her push her ass backward, seeking more.

—God... —she let slip—. What are you doing to me?

I didn’t answer. I opened her lips with my fingers and pushed my tongue into her entrance, playing with the wetness, going in and out in short strokes. Then I moved up to her clitoris and began licking it from side to side, focused and insistent. Her whole body reacted. She gripped the edge of the wall tightly, bent her knees, and began moaning without any shame.

I loved listening to her. She moaned like someone who had suddenly discovered everything a body could crave. Every time I sucked her clitoris, she made a higher-pitched sound. Every time I drove my tongue between her lips, her legs went looser. I alternated between licking her open, sucking her clitoris, and slipping one finger just barely into her entrance, only the tip, so I wouldn’t force her. Enough to drive her wild, not enough to hurt her.

—Keep going, keep going like that... don’t stop... —she babbled.

I obeyed. I held her hips still when she began to tremble, working her clitoris with my mouth while two fingers massaged around her entrance, invading no farther than she could tolerate. Luciana moaned louder, squeezed her thighs together, and her orgasm hit her all at once. Her legs buckled, she let out a long, wet cry, and for a second she hung from her arms, shuddering while I continued licking her gently to prolong her pleasure.

When I lifted my face, I found her flushed, her chest rising and falling at top speed. She looked at me as though she had just fallen from somewhere incredibly high.

—My legs went weak —she said, almost laughing in disbelief.

—You came —I explained.

She bit her lip, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. I held out her panties, but took them away as soon as she tried to grab them.

—No —I told her—. I took them off you. I’ll put them back on you.

I started toward her room with the fabric in my hand, and she followed behind me. She entered, closing the door carefully, which only made the clandestine nature of the moment more intense. She remained standing beside the bed, her skirt still slightly raised and hunger in her gaze, along with the modesty, yes.

—Well —she said, trying to maintain her composure—, put them on me already. I have to go prepare dinner.

—Did you like what happened a little while ago?

She nodded without even thinking.

—Very much. I didn’t know it felt like that.

—Then lie down.

She hesitated for a second.

—But we’re not going to... you know.

—No. I’m not going to put it inside you until you want me to. I only want you to enjoy yourself.

She lay down on the bed and I sat beside her. I lifted her skirt slowly, kissing first one knee, then the insides of her thighs. I felt her shudder as soon as I brushed her with my tongue near her pussy. Her legs were tense at first, but they gradually opened as I caressed her calmly, giving her time to surrender.

I undressed her gently, without rushing. First the dress, then the bra. Her naked body was even better than I had imagined in my fantasies: small, hard breasts, pink nipples that stiffened as soon as I sucked them, a flat belly, narrow hips, and that pale pussy, wet and swollen with desire.

I leaned over one of her breasts and took it into my mouth. Luciana arched her back at once. I nibbled her nipple, barely, and her hand sank into my hair. I went from one breast to the other, licking, sucking, squeezing with my palm just enough to make her gasp. Then I kissed my way down her stomach, pausing at her navel, the edge of her pelvis, and her mound.

When I opened her legs wider, the smell of her arousal hit me full in the face. It was a clean, intense smell, the smell of a hot pussy asking for a mouth. I ran my tongue over her entire vulva, from top to bottom, and she moaned with a mixture of modesty and need that made me even harder. I separated her lips with my fingers again and set about licking her properly, thoroughly, sparing neither saliva nor time.

I pushed my tongue between her lips again and again, savoring her, searching out every sensitive spot. I moved up to her clitoris and sucked it patiently, moved down to her entrance and pressed it with the tip of my tongue, then moved back up and repeated it until I felt her coming undone. The bed began to creak beneath her movements. Luciana was no longer trying to keep quiet.

—Like that... like that... fuck, like that... —she moaned, surprised to hear herself so dirty and so free.

I slipped one finger inside her, just barely, only as far as her body allowed, and used my other hand to open her thigh wider. She was incredibly tight, but she no longer pulled away. On the contrary, she turned her hips, seeking the friction while I worked her clitoris with my tongue in quick movements. Her second orgasm didn’t take as long as the first. It burst out of her with a clearer cry, her fingers tugging at my hair and her legs trembling around my head.

I kept licking her through the spasms, watching her pussy pulse and squeeze on its own. There was something addictive about it: feeling her come in my mouth, feeling her lose control more and more quickly. When she finally calmed down, I kissed her belly and sat up to take off my pants and underwear.

Her gaze fell straight onto my erect cock. Her eyes widened, unable to hide her surprise. It was the first time she had seen one so close, and that mixture of curiosity and fear made her extend her hand slowly.

—Can I touch it?

—Of course.

She wrapped her hand awkwardly around the shaft and exhaled. She moved it to one side, then upward, feeling its weight and heat. Then she caressed my balls with her other hand, even more fascinated.

—It’s so hard —she said—. And hot.

—Because you’ve had me like this for days.

She smiled. I guided her hand so she could jerk me off better, more firmly, from the base to the tip. After a few strokes she did it with more confidence, watching my abdomen tense every time she tightened her fingers. I spread a little of the lubrication from her own pussy over the tip, and her hand slid more easily. The gesture made her blush, but she didn’t look away.

—When you want to do it for real, I’ll go slowly —I told her—. It doesn’t have to happen today.

I gently turned her onto her stomach. The sight of her bare ass and spread legs left me almost without patience. I knelt behind her and rested my cock between her cheeks, sliding it up and down while I kissed the nape of her neck. Luciana shuddered when she felt me there, hard and hot, rubbing against her without entering.

I asked her to bring her legs a little closer together. When she did, I placed my cock between her thighs and began to move. The rubbing of her wet pussy against me with every stroke drew a moan from me too. She squeezed her thighs tighter, trapping me, and each thrust slid over her swollen lips, brushing her clitoris and entrance without penetrating her. It was a delicious way to fuck without fucking her, intense enough to drive us both crazy.

—Squeeze me harder —I told her.

Luciana obeyed. She closed her legs tightly around my cock, and I began sliding faster. One of my hands held her hip; the other sought out her clitoris to rub it in rhythm with my thrusts. The combination destroyed her. She began panting again, pushing her ass backward, digging her nails into the sheets.

—I can’t take it... I can’t take it... —she repeated.

—Yes, you can. Come for me.

The command finally made her let go. She came with a hoarse cry, tensing her entire body at once, and that squeeze around my cock was too much. I sped up a little more, feeling the wet sliding between her thighs and pussy, and came immediately. My cum spilled out thick and hot, spreading over the tops of her legs, her buttocks, and the sheet. I remained bent over her, panting, my forehead against her shoulder.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, sweaty, breathing as though we had just escaped from something dangerous. I kissed her back, gave one cheek a fond pat, and went to the sink in her room to clean myself. She remained lying there with a silly, satisfied smile, still taking in what she had felt.

Before leaving, I finally helped her put her panties back on. I pulled them slowly up her legs, covering the pussy I had left swollen and glistening with saliva. The intimate gesture made her laugh under her breath.

—Now I can —she said—. I can go make dinner.

I kissed her once more, briefly and wetly, and left first so no one would suspect anything. Half an hour later she appeared in the kitchen, already changed, moving with apparent normality among the pots and plates. Only I noticed that every so often she drew her legs together slightly as she walked, or that she sought my gaze with a new brightness, one that hadn’t been there when she arrived with her suitcase.

The house remained the same for everyone else. Not for us. From that afternoon on, every hallway, every window, and every corner of the garden became charged with the memory of her first orgasm in my mouth and my cum between her thighs. And although I still hadn’t penetrated her, we both knew we had crossed a line there was no returning from.

There was no need to talk about it. One last look that night was enough, while the table filled with plates and the family’s voices drowned out any decent thought. Luciana lowered her eyes, smiled faintly, and moistened her lips. I understood the message immediately.

It hadn’t been an accident.

It had been the beginning.