What Happened with My Husband’s Nephew Those Days

The hotel bar had just the right kind of dimness that makes anyone complicit. Music slid beneath the conversations and the air smelled of wood and expensive liquor. Elena came in unhurriedly, letting the wine-colored dress cling to her hips with every step. She knew she was being watched. She liked being watched.

Marcos was waiting for her at a table by the bar, a whiskey in his hand. As soon as he saw her approaching, he straightened, and a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just any smile: it was the one he reserved only for her.

—Sorry I’m late —she murmured as she sat down, leaning just enough for her perfume to reach him before her words did.

—It’s always worth the wait —he replied, without looking away.

Elena crossed her legs with calculated slowness and let the fabric reveal a flash of thigh. They had been together for fifteen years and still played this game: teasing, holding back, watching desire grow in silence. That night, as he slid a finger along her bare arm, neither of them suspected that the game was about to change players.

***

The nephew arrived on Tuesday afternoon. He was the son of one of Marcos’s cousins, a twenty-something from the provinces who had come to tour universities before deciding where to study. He would stay a week, perhaps a little longer.

—Elena, this is Tomás —Marcos said at the door—. He’s staying with us while he visits the campuses.

—Welcome, Tomás —she said, extending her hand.

The boy shook it with awkward politeness. He was tall, broad-shouldered, still not quite filled out, with that careless beauty of someone who still doesn’t know what he has. Elena noticed two things at once: that he looked at her a second too long, and that he immediately looked away, as if afraid of being caught.

Interesting, she thought, and didn’t dwell on it. That night, at least.

Dinner went by amid laughter and questions. Tomás was reserved, but the wine loosened his tongue. Marcos told old anecdotes and Elena listened with her chin resting on her hand, aware that the twenty-something’s eyes kept coming back to her whenever he thought no one noticed. More than once she caught him staring at her neckline, and she breathed a little deeper to give him a better view.

When Tomás went up to his room, Marcos waited until he heard the door close before speaking.

—He looks at you —he said, with a smile that held no annoyance at all.

—He’s young —she replied, taking off an earring.

—A dumbass with a hard dick since he walked through the door. —He came up behind her and brushed her neck with his lips—. I don’t mind. On the contrary.

Marcos hiked up her skirt right there, in front of the dressing-table mirror, and slipped his hand between her legs. Elena was already wet. He noticed, laughed softly against her nape, and pulled her panties aside to sink two fingers all the way in.

—You’re soaked, my love. Thinking about him?

—Shut up —she panted, bracing herself against the dressing table.

—Say it. Tell me you get this wet thinking about the dumb kid’s cock.

—Yes —she whispered, arching against his fingers—. Yes, asshole, yes.

Marcos turned her around, set her down hard on the dresser, and tore off her panties. He undid his belt, pulled out his hard cock, and drove into her in one thrust, no preamble, gripping her by the hips. He fucked her right there against the mirror while he whispered in her ear about everything the nephew would do to her if they let him. Elena came in less than two minutes, biting his shoulder so she wouldn’t scream and wake the guest.

When they were done, Elena caught sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her mascara smudged, and a thread of semen was running down her thigh. And it wasn’t from the wine.

***

The next morning she went down to the kitchen in her robe. She found Tomás seated at the table, scrolling on his phone with a cup of coffee in his hands. When he saw her enter, he straightened at once.

—Good morning —he said, and his voice cracked slightly on the second syllable.

Elena went to the pantry to get the sugar. She had to stand on tiptoe, and she knew, without needing to look, that the robe had opened enough for her breasts to be visible from the side. She heard the boy quickly look away toward the window with a stiffness that gave him away, and also the creak of the chair when he shifted to adjust the bulge in his pants.

—Sleep well? —she asked, turning naturally and letting the robe stay open a second longer than necessary.

—Yes, very well, thanks —he stammered, eyes fixed on the nipple that appeared and disappeared with every movement.

When she passed by him to reach the coffee maker, she brushed his shoulder with her hip. She saw the boy close his fingers around the cup as if he needed to hold onto something, and how his cock stood out hard against the fabric of his sleep pants. Too easy, she thought. But she didn’t stop. She bent to pick up a teaspoon from the floor she hadn’t even dropped, showed him the full neckline, and rose slowly, savoring the nephew’s muffled groan.

***

On Saturday the three of them went to tour one of the universities. Marcos drove, Elena rode shotgun, and Tomás sat in the back, looking out at the scenery. At a crossroads, she stretched out her arm to point something out and her hand brushed the boy’s thigh, a little higher than casual, for a whole instant. In the rearview mirror, Marcos caught Tomás’s eyes dropping to the spot where she’d touched him and then lifting again at once, embarrassed.

They walked across campus among brick buildings and manicured gardens. Elena wore jeans that clung to her hips and a V-neck blouse, and she noticed the students’ looks as they passed. Tomás walked beside her, and every time someone stared at her too long, the boy straightened his back a little, as if her presence somehow belonged to him.

In the admissions office, a staffer greeted them with an awkward smile.

—And is the lady here accompanying the young man? His mother, perhaps?

Before Elena could answer, Tomás took the floor with a confidence that surprised her.

—My mother? No. She looks way hotter than anyone you’ve got around here.

The staffer laughed, uncomfortable. Elena shot the boy a warning look, but inside her pussy tightened. When they left, she glanced at him sideways.

—You’re hopeless.

—And you’re the kind of woman a man wants to fuck at any hour of the day —he replied, without a trace of joking—. Can I ask you a question?

—That would depend on how well you can justify it.

Tomás looked at her with an intensity that said far more than he dared put into words. He didn’t ask anything. There was no need.

***

That night, Marcos put music on after dinner. It was slow jazz, the kind that asks for bodies close together. He poured three glasses and, with a smile, gently nudged his nephew toward the center of the living room.

—Elena dances like no one else. You should learn before you go to the city. You’ll need that stuff there.

—I don’t know how to dance —the boy protested, red to the ears.

—Exactly —she said, setting down her glass and holding out her hand.

Tomás stood up as if walking toward something inevitable. Elena took one of his hands and placed it on her waist. She felt the boy hold his breath as he noticed the curve beneath the fabric.

—Relax —she whispered—. You just have to follow the moment. Trust me.

They moved slowly. At first Tomás kept the distance of a frightened gentleman, but the music and the brushing contact slowly wore away that caution. His hands settled more firmly on her waist, and Elena let the distance between their bodies close centimeter by centimeter until she felt the nephew’s hard cock pressed against her belly. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary: she lowered her hips a little and rubbed against it slowly, measuring its length with her own pussy.

Marcos watched them from the armchair, the glass resting on his knee and an odd calm on his face. There was no jealousy in his gaze. There was something darker and more exciting: the desire to watch. He had opened his pants and already had his cock out, stroking it slowly while he watched his wife grind herself against the dumbass.

The boy’s hand rose only slightly, stopping at the point where the fabric gave way to the skin of her back. Elena felt the heat of that palm and knew it was no longer a dance.

—You learn fast —she murmured, letting her lips brush his ear—. Is it that hard because of me?

—Yes —he panted—. Since the first day.

—Show me.

Tomás turned his face. For an instant they were a millimeter apart, breathing the same air. And then it happened without premeditation, without doubt: a kiss, timid at first, like a question. She opened his mouth with her tongue and the question became certainty. She brought his hand down to her pants, squeezed the bulge, and felt the boy shudder whole against her.

When they pulled apart, Elena looked for her husband’s eyes. Marcos hadn’t moved, except for the slow fist going up and down his cock. He only tipped his head, slowly, once. Permission granted.

***

She took him by the hand down the hallway. Tomás was trembling a little, not from fear but from pure restrained anticipation. His cock was outlined in his pants, thick and hard, and Elena glanced at it out of the corner of her eye as she dragged him toward the guest room.

—Sit down —she whispered as they entered, pointing to the bed.

The boy obeyed. Elena stood in front of him and unbuttoned her blouse unhurriedly, enjoying the way the nephew’s eyes followed every movement of her fingers. When the fabric fell to the floor, she heard him swallow. She unclasped her bra and let it fall too. Her tits were big, firm for her age, with dark nipples already hard with arousal.

—Do you like them? —she asked, moving close enough to stand between his knees.

—Fuck… —was all the boy managed to say.

—Suck them. Slowly.

Tomás lunged at her like a hungry puppy. He caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, almost without technique, and Elena laughed deep in her throat while tangling her fingers in his hair.

—Slowly, I said. Tongue first. Circle it. There… like that, good boy.

He learned quickly. He moved his tongue in circles around the areola, nibbled lightly, then sucked more calmly, alternating from one breast to the other. Elena held the dumbass by the nape and pressed his face against her tits, groaning softly.

—Had you done this before? —she asked, voice rough.

—Not like this —he admitted, lips shining.

—Then pay attention. I’m going to teach you how to make a woman enjoy herself.

She unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them down with his boxers, and his cock sprang out in his face, hard as a rock, thick, throbbing against the boy’s flat stomach. Elena wrapped her hand around it and measured the weight. She smiled.

—Nice cock you’ve got, nephew. Too bad you still don’t know what to do with it.

She knelt between his legs. She ran her tongue from the base to the tip, slowly, following the thick vein that ran underneath. Tomás moaned helplessly, clutching the sheets. Elena licked the head, savored the drop of pre-cum already leaking out, and then took the whole thing into her mouth at once, down to her throat.

—Oh, shit —the boy panted, throwing his head back.

She started sucking him slowly, up and down, pressing her lips against the hard flesh, helping with her hand at the base. Every so often she’d take the cock out of her mouth, spit on it, run her tongue over his balls, take them one by one between her lips, and swallow him whole again. She knew what she was doing. Every movement was calculated to bring him to the edge without letting him fall over.

—Elena… I’m going to… —Tomás babbled when he could take no more.

She pulled his cock out of her mouth just in time and squeezed the base with two fingers.

—Don’t even think about coming yet. You haven’t touched my pussy.

She pushed him backward onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She stripped off the rest of his clothes and got rid of her jeans and panties in two quick movements. She climbed back over him, now naked, and arranged herself so her pussy was at the boy’s mouth level.

—Now you eat —she ordered, lowering her hips—. And you eat well.

Tomás grabbed her thighs, pulled her toward his face, and drove his tongue between her folds. Elena threw her head back and let out a long moan. What he lacked in experience he made up for with enthusiasm: he licked her pussy from top to bottom, found her clit by instinct, pushed his tongue in as deep as he could, drowned himself in the taste. She guided him by moving his head with her hands.

—There, up there, on the little button. Suck it. Like it was a nipple. Yes… yes, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, asshole, don’t stop.

The first orgasm hit her all at once, without warning, riding the boy’s face, pressing his nape against her pubis as she trembled all over. When she finally let him go, Tomás had his mouth and chin shining with her juices, and an idiot’s grateful smile on his face.

—Good student —she panted—. Now it’s time for the final exam.

She moved down his body kissing him, leaving traces of lipstick on his chest and stomach, and settled herself astride his cock. She took it in her hand, rubbed it against her wet lips, soaking it well, and then began to take it in, millimeter by millimeter, letting the boy feel how her pussy opened around him. When she had him all the way inside, she stayed still for a moment, savoring the sensation of having him so deep.

—God —Tomás moaned—. You’re… you’re hot inside.

—And tight, right? Don’t move. Let me work.

She started riding him slowly, coming almost all the way off and then sinking back down to the bottom. She took his hands and brought them to her tits, guiding them so he would squeeze them while she moved. She watched pleasure dismantle the boy’s face, watched him clench his teeth so he wouldn’t finish too soon. Elena leaned over him, letting her lips brush his jaw, his neck, as she picked up the pace.

—Like this —she panted—. Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come inside.

—Elena, I can’t take it anymore…

—Hold on a little longer. Just a little more. I want to come with you.

She straightened and started bouncing on him harder, bracing on his chest, finding just the right angle to grind her clit against his pubis with every descent. The room filled with the wet noise of her pussy impaled on the nephew’s cock, the slap of her thighs against his, her increasingly shrill moans.

—That’s it, that’s it, come with me, inside, all the way in, don’t pull out —she panted when she felt the orgasm catch her again.

Tomás opened his eyes and looked at her as if she were the only real thing in the world. That look, more than the body, was what took her to the final edge. Pleasure swept through her in one long, deep wave, and she felt the boy jerk beneath her a moment later, trembling all over, clutching her waist like a shipwreck, emptying hot inside her pussy in long spurts she could feel pounding against her walls.

They stayed still, catching their breath, her skin pressed to his by sweat. Elena felt the nephew’s cock slowly softening inside her, and a thread of thick semen beginning to trickle down her thigh when she finally stood up. She brushed the boy’s hair off his forehead and smiled.

—You’re a good student —she murmured, running her thumb over his lips—. A very good student.

From the hallway, Marcos’s shadow cut across the half-open door for a second, and disappeared.

***

Tomás left two days later. He gathered his few things early in the morning and came downstairs with his backpack over his shoulder. Marcos hugged him at the door.

—This is your home. It will always be a pleasure to have you here —he said, with a knowing glint in his eyes.

The boy nodded. Then he turned to Elena. For a second he seemed on the verge of saying something too big for that time of morning, but he only squeezed her shoulder.

—Thanks for everything —he said, and the last word carried far more than it sounded like.

—Take care, Tomás —she replied—. And learn to dance better.

He laughed, gave her one last playful look, and headed out to the car waiting for him. When the engine disappeared down the street, Marcos wrapped his arms around his wife from behind.

—Well? —he asked.

Elena leaned back against him, looking at the empty street with a smile that was hard to read.

—I learned something —she said—. That the game is more interesting when there’s someone new to teach the rules to.

Marcos kissed her temple. It remained between them, like everything that truly mattered.