Three Days of Visiting Put Their Devotion to the Test

Camila was twenty-five and had one of those presences you don’t forget. Her dark hair fell below her shoulders in soft waves, and her eyes, a clear blue like an October morning, lit up whenever she talked about something she was passionate about. She was Daniela’s maternal cousin, and they shared more than either of them cared to admit: the same laugh, the same habit of tilting their heads when they listened.

She arrived at the apartment Daniela and Marco shared in Valencia on a Thursday afternoon, with a small suitcase and a huge desire to get to know the city. She had a full body, with pronounced curves, big tits straining against the fabric and a round ass that swayed as she walked, and she wore it with a confidence that turned heads without asking for permission. That afternoon she had on a fitted white blouse and a denim skirt to the knee, leather sandals, and silver earrings that brushed her neck when she moved.

—It’s all beautiful —she said as soon as she came in, setting her suitcase by the door—. Thank you for letting me stay.

—Of course —Daniela replied, hugging her—. The guest room is yours for these three days.

***

The first night the three of them had dinner in the living room. Marco had made a risotto, and Camila was quick to shower him with praise.

—I didn’t know you cooked so well —she said, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand—. This is incredible.

—It’s the only thing that relaxes me after work —he answered, brushing it off.

Daniela watched the exchange with a small, almost imperceptible pang somewhere in her chest. She laid her hand over Marco’s on top of the tablecloth.

—I’m lucky enough to eat like this almost every day —she said, and immediately steered the conversation toward the trip the couple was planning for the summer: a route through Italy and Greece.

It worked halfway. Camila listened, nodded, but her blue eyes kept returning again and again to Marco, to the way he gestured when he spoke, to his easy laugh.

***

The second day Daniela had to work. She was a proofreader at a small publishing house, and that week they were closing a catalog, so she left Marco to be an improvised guide. He and Camila toured the City of Arts and Sciences, got lost in the Carmen neighborhood, and ended the afternoon on a terrace near Plaza de la Virgen.

—Thanks for spending the day with me —Camila said as she stirred her coffee—. And for taking such good care of my cousin. You’re special, did you know that?

Marco felt flattered and a little uncomfortable in equal measure. He smiled and focused on the cup.

—Your cousin is the most important thing I have. I’d do anything for her.

There was a gleam in Camila’s gaze that he preferred not to name. He kept the conversation in safe, light territory, and changed the subject as soon as he could.

***

Saturday dawned clear. As she did every week, Daniela got up early to clean Marco’s motorcycle. Still wearing the short nightgown she slept in, she went out to the garage and started soaping every part carefully: the seat, the handlebars, the rims. Her hands moved with practiced skill, removing every trace of dust while the sun came in from the side and the air smelled of soap and dew.

When she finished, she dried the metal with a chamois until it gleamed. Satisfied, she went into the kitchen to make breakfast: coffee, toast, sliced fruit, freshly squeezed juice.

Camila appeared shortly after, drawn by the aroma, messy-haired and smiling.

—Good morning, cousin —she said, stretching—. Smells wonderful. Can I help?

—Set the table while I finish this —Daniela replied, putting the golden slices on a plate.

Marco came in with rumpled hair and half-open eyes and found the table set and the two cousins waiting for him.

—What a reception —he said, letting out a low laugh—. What do I owe the honor?

—We’ve prepared you a king’s breakfast —Camila answered with a theatrical gesture.

He sat down, took a sip of coffee, and closed his eyes for a moment.

—Exactly what I needed. Thanks, girls.

After breakfast he offered to show Camila the area. She raised her hand like a schoolgirl.

—I want to go on the motorcycle. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.

Daniela shrugged with a faint smile.

—Fine by me. You take her, I’ll go by metro. It’ll be more special that way for her.

On the ride, Camila held tightly to Marco’s waist, more than the road required. She pressed her tits against his back and lowered her hands to brush his crotch with her fingers, as if by accident, at every stop. He noticed and said nothing. The three of them met up later, ate at a restaurant in the city center, and walked until midafternoon while Daniela told them the history of each square. At one point she got a date wrong.

—Actually, that’s from the seventeenth century, not the eighteenth —Marco corrected gently, and earned both women’s attention.

Camila looked at him as if every word were a discovery. On the way back, she hugged him again more than necessary, and Daniela, following them by taxi, smiled to herself with a mix of pride and something thicker she didn’t want to examine.

***

The last night, Daniela prepared a farewell dinner. By dessert, Camila was still showing the same sticky admiration for Marco.

—You’re so good at so many things —she said, tilting her head—. I hope I find someone like you.

Daniela’s patience ran out. She trusted Marco absolutely, but the constant comments had started to wear at something.

—Anyone would be lucky to find someone who cares for her and respects her —she said in a tone that was firm and kind at once—. But Marco is mine, and I’m very grateful for that.

Camila caught the message and softened her smile.

—Of course, Dani. I was joking. You know how much I love you.

Marco stepped in to lighten the mood.

—It’s been a pleasure having you here, really. But Daniela and I are doing very well, and nothing changes that.

When her cousin retreated to her room, the couple stayed a while longer in the living room, silent. Daniela rested her head on his shoulder.

—I can’t help feeling a little jealous —she admitted in a low voice—. I know nothing happened. But her comments bother me.

Marco stroked her hair.

—You have nothing to worry about. You’re my life. Nothing and no one changes that.

She sighed, letting herself be comforted.

—Sometimes I feel insecure, that’s all.

—That insecurity is part of you too —he said, kissing her forehead—. And I’m here to remind you how much I love you.

***

That night, before bed, the moment they repeated every Saturday came. Marco inspected Daniela’s skin with meticulous attention, looking for any hair that the blade had missed. It was their ritual, a weekly routine that the two of them had turned into another form of closeness. She had made even more of an effort that week, aware of his standards.

The hair removal was complete: arms, legs, armpits, groin. He laid her naked on her back, legs apart, and opened her pussy with two fingers to inspect every fold beneath the lamp. Marco slid his hand over her bare skin, palpating slowly, following the line of smooth pubis to the pink, shiny lips.

—You made an effort —he murmured with an approving smile, running his fingers over the final fold—. I’m proud of you.

Daniela smiled, relieved by the recognition.

—I wanted everything to be perfect for you.

—And it is —he answered, caressing her cheek—. I like knowing you care that much.

There was something in that approval that turned her on more than any caress. She liked pleasing him, she liked the moment when he examined her and found her worthy. He makes me feel like I’m his, she thought, and the idea ran through her whole body as she felt her pussy wet itself just from the weight of that look.

Marco lowered his head between her thighs. He ran his flat tongue all the way through her slit, from bottom to top, and left her dripping with saliva. He stopped at the clit, caught it between his lips, and sucked it slowly, unhurriedly, while she lifted her hips to meet him and pressed her pussy to his mouth. He alternated: long licks, dragging his tongue from the entrance of her ass to the tip of the hood, then pressing his thumb against the most sensitive spot and circling it, then burying his tongue inside again, fucking her with it. He nibbled her inner lips, tugged them with his teeth, sucked her clit until it popped, then started again in a rhythm she could anticipate and that, precisely for that reason, undid her.

Daniela gasped and writhed under his mouth. She could feel saliva running down the crease of her ass, soaking her cheeks. The tension gathered in her belly, rising. Marco slid two fingers inside her, curving them upward, searching for that spongey spot that drove her crazy, in and out with a wet sound while his tongue kept working her clit, and she felt herself losing control. Her orgasm hit her suddenly; her pussy clenched around his fingers, her whole belly trembled, she clutched the sheets and let out a muffled cry, aware that Camila was sleeping on the other side of the hallway. Marco didn’t let up: he kept licking slowly while she came, swallowing every drop that spilled from her, stretching her climax until her legs started shaking uncontrollably.

But Marco wasn’t finished. He rose up onto his knees on the bed, his cock hard and thick, pointed at her face, glistening at the tip. He placed a pillow under her head to angle her neck just right, and held her face between his hands.

—Open —he said, in a low voice.

She obeyed, sticking out her tongue. He first ran the tip along her lips, smearing them with pre-cum, and then shoved it all the way into her mouth at once. Daniela closed her mouth around his cock and started sucking. She brought it out to the tip, licked underneath following the thick vein, then swallowed it again to the back. Marco buried his hands in her hair, grabbed a fistful, and started moving, fucking her mouth slowly at first, then with more determination, until the head hit her throat and she had to breathe through her nose to take it. Her eyes filled with tears, saliva slipped from the corners of her mouth and dripped in thick strands over her tits.

Every so often he stopped, pulled it out all the way, tapped her face and tongue two or three times with the head, and let her catch her breath before starting again. She took it not as a sacrifice, but as an act of surrender that became easier and easier for her to recognize as her own. She grabbed his balls with one hand, squeezed them gently, and with the other rubbed her swollen clit while he kept thrusting into her throat.

—You’re so good —he murmured, and the words shot through her like a current—. Look at me. Look at me while you suck my cock.

Daniela lifted her eyes, clouded, with his cock buried in her throat, and he let out a rough growl.

Marco pulled back for a moment, looked at her with darkened eyes, his cock shining with saliva.

—Turn around. On your knees. Shake your ass for me.

She got down on her stomach, propped herself on her elbows, and arched her back to lift her ass. He moved behind her, spread her cheeks with his thumbs, and saw her wet pussy and tight asshole, both on display. He ran the head up and down her slit, soaking it in the juices Daniela was still leaking, then slammed into her all the way. She moaned into the pillow, smothering the sound, while he began moving, gripping her by the hips, filling her again and again with dry, hard thrusts that made her tits hit the mattress.

—You’re so tight —Marco panted, watching his cock go in and out, shining—. I can hear your pussy sloshing.

He fucked her hard, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the balls, setting a rhythm that made the headboard creak. With his thumb he gave her clit a few jolts, never stopping pumping, and Daniela came again, with a long shudder, biting the pillow so she wouldn’t scream.

Then she felt his finger searching for the other path, the one that tested her every week. He wet it first with the juices he was drawing from her pussy himself, and sank it slowly into her ass, to the knuckles. This time there was no need to remind her of anything. No complaint. She relaxed, let him put it in, even moved, pushing back to receive it better.

—Good girl —he whispered, pulling the finger out and adding a second, opening her up.

When he replaced his fingers with his cock, she held her breath and forced herself to relax against the pressure, even though her body wanted to resist. Marco pressed the head against the ring, pushed slowly, and Daniela’s ass gave way, opened, swallowed it little by little. He entered patiently, millimeter by millimeter, all the way in, until his balls were pressed against her pussy, and he stayed still for a moment, letting her get used to it before starting to move with an almost tender softness.

—That’s it, breathe, just like that —he murmured, stroking her lower back—. What an ass you have, fuck. You open so well for me.

He stayed like that for a good while, setting a slow rhythm that gradually gained force. He slid two fingers underneath, shoved them into her pussy, and fucked both holes at once, feeling how they rubbed against each other inside through the thin wall separating them. Daniela’s moans changed register, grew higher, harder to contain; she bit the pillow, her thighs trembling.

—Wait —she panted—. Slower…

—Easy, baby —he whispered, stroking her back with a tenderness that undid her—. I’m with you.

He let her rest for a second, motionless inside her, then came back, this time deeper, driving from the hips, making her move across the mattress with each blow. The wet, dull sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room, and she had to bite the sheet to keep from screaming. The fingers still inside her pussy moved faster, and Daniela felt a third orgasm climbing inside her, different, deeper, a shiver born in her belly and spreading through her whole body. She came with her ass full and the fingers inside, and her spasms spilled out in waves.

When he reached the limit, he pulled out suddenly, grabbed her hair, and set her back on her knees in front of him. He shook his cock two, three times over her face, and emptied his load onto her: thick, heavy ropes that fell on her forehead, her closed eyelids, her parted lips, her tongue, her chin, and down her neck to her tits. She stayed still, mouth open, swallowing what got in and letting the rest decorate her, utterly surrendered, enjoying the weight of her own submission.

—Suck it. Clean it —he said, bringing his dripping cock to her lips.

Daniela took it into her mouth and licked it all, down to the base, down to the balls, swallowing the last drops.

Then he let himself fall beside her and pulled her against his chest, his face still smeared. They lay there holding each other, catching their breath, in that thick silence that only exists when two people know each other down to the last corner.

—There’s no one like you —she said, her voice small and hoarse.

—I know —he replied, kissing her hair—. Now go shower. I’ll wait here.

Daniela smiled against his skin and obeyed, happy, as she obeyed every thing he asked of her. In the bathroom mirror she looked at herself for an instant: flushed cheeks, shining eyes, remnants of semen drying on her skin. She thought of Camila, of her jealousy over the last few days, and almost laughed. Let her admire Marco. Let her desire him, even. It didn’t matter. There was a version of him only she knew, a version of herself only he brought to light, and no one was going to take that away from her.

***

The next morning they said goodbye to Camila with hugs and promises to see each other again soon. When her cousin walked away down the hall with her suitcase, Daniela closed the door and leaned against it. She felt relief, yes, but also a new gratitude.

—Thanks for understanding me these days —she told Marco.

—Always —he answered, wrapping an arm around her waist—. No matter what happens.

The visit had tested them in a way neither of them had foreseen. And, against all odds, it had left them more united than before.