What I Did with My Sister’s Husband in the Country

I’m going to tell this exactly as it happened, without dressing it up too much, because I still struggle to believe I did it. My sister Renata and her husband have a country house two hours from the city, lost among native woodland and dirt roads. There’s a pool, a small gym in the shed, and a running trail that cuts into the forest. It’s the kind of place you go to disconnect. I went for something else, though back then I still didn’t know it.

Renata had invited me to spend the long weekend there on the condition that I bring someone, so I wouldn’t be bored while she and Damián did their couple thing. I brought Bruno. If you follow what I write, you already know him: we grew close in a very particular way, and since then there’s been a trust between us that doesn’t need explanations. He knows what I do, knows who I fuck, and I know the same about him. That freedom is exactly what made everything that came after possible.

We left on Friday at midday, luggage packed and music blasting. They were already settled in when we arrived. Damián greeted us on the porch with a beer in his hand and that host’s smile men have when they feel like they own their territory.

I need to talk about my sister so the rest makes sense. Renata is, bluntly, prettier than I am. She’s dark-haired, with skin that catches the sun immediately; I’m pale, almost translucent next to her. She goes to the gym, runs, lifts weights, doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her. Long legs, a marked waist, a round, hard ass that’s almost irritatingly perfect, a flat stomach, and big tits that have always drawn my eye, ever since we were girls sharing a room. It was never envy. It was something else, harder to name.

The afternoon passed quietly. We went running together on the trail while the men stayed by the pool with their drinks. We came back sweaty, legs trembling, and laughed about old things like we always did. We live far apart and only see each other once a year, twice if we’re lucky. When we get together, I stay at her place or she stays at mine until each of us goes back to her life. We have that sisters-who-grew-up-glued-together habit: we shower together.

That night was no exception.

***

Bruno had gone to bed early. He’d come off a long trip and was dead tired, so he crashed the moment dinner was over. Damián was wandering around the house, tidying things up, going nowhere in particular. Renata and I went into the big bathroom, the one with the wide shower and glass partition, and turned on the hot water.

Steam filled everything almost immediately. The water ran over our bodies and we went back to being who we always were, two girls joking around. I picked up the soap and started soaping her from feet to neck, slowly, covering her in foam. I ran my hands over her thighs, over her stomach, circled her big tits with the suds until her dark nipples began to show through my fingers. I tickled her, exaggerated a moan to tease her, and she got annoyed.

—Cut it out, you idiot —she said, laughing despite herself.

—Hold still, I’m making you look brand new —I answered, and gave that ass I stare at such a loud smack.

She complained, but she liked it. She’s always liked being handled like that, with that mix of affection and shamelessness we only allow ourselves with each other. I slid my soapy hands down her back, down her waist, slipped my fingers into the crease between her ass cheeks, almost by accident, almost by accident, and gave her another, harder slap. I called her a whore and a bitch under my breath, laughing, the kind of things you don’t say to your sister out loud.

It was on one of those turns, when I lifted my eyes toward the half-open door, that I saw him.

Damián was there in the hallway, hidden in the dim light. He was spying. He thought we couldn’t see him, but the mirror’s reflection gave him away. He stood perfectly still, holding his breath, watching both of us. I don’t blame him, I thought. Who wouldn’t want to watch two sisters lathering each other up, laughing, touching without shame?

I said nothing. I played along.

I pressed Renata against the shower wall, using the excuse of rinsing her back, and went over her whole body again with my soap-covered hands. I squeezed her tits from behind, pressed them together, let them hang and drip foam under the spray. I slapped that wet ass again, the sound echoing off the tiles. My sister tried to turn around and I stopped her by taking hold of her wet hair, gently but firmly, keeping her facing the tiles, her ass pushed back, her legs slightly apart. Over her shoulder I looked for the crack in the doorway again.

Damián was still there, and this time he’d pulled his pajama pants down. His cock was out, thick, hard, and he was gripping it with his right hand, sliding it slowly from base to tip, never taking his eyes off us. I held his gaze in the reflection while I pressed my naked body against my sister’s, my chest against her back, my pussy against her wet ass, without her understanding a thing. I slid one hand around the front and ran my palm over one tit, over her stomach, almost down to her cunt, as if I were just soaping her. I saw Damián’s hand speed up, saw him clench his teeth to keep from making a sound. I felt the heat rise in my chest. Not because of him. Because of the power of knowing I was being watched, of having control over something he believed secret, of putting his wife on display without her knowing.

When I turned my head again, he was gone.

Renata managed to pull free and turned around, outraged.

—What’s wrong with you, you animal? —she said, rubbing her scalp.

—Nothing, idiot, it was a joke —I answered, pretending to be dumb.

She had no idea what had just happened three meters away from her. We rinsed off, dried ourselves laughing, and each went to bed. I got in beside Bruno, who was sleeping deeply, and stayed awake a long time, eyes open in the dark, thinking about Damián’s face, that voyeur’s hunger he couldn’t hide, the swollen cock he was holding in the hallway while I was groping his wife.

***

The next morning we had to go into town for the weekend shopping. While we were having coffee on the porch, I suggested they go, and almost on its own the plan I hadn’t planned but suddenly wanted with all my might began to take shape.

Damián said he preferred to stay, that he had things to sort out in the shed. I then put a hand on my stomach and made a face like I felt sick.

—Something I ate last night must’ve hit me wrong. I’d better stay and rest —I said.

Renata offered to stay and take care of me and I insisted no, that she should go, that it was nothing. Bruno offered to drive. They barely knew each other, had seen each other once or twice, but my sister knows everything there is between Bruno and me, so she didn’t find it strange that they’d go together. Sister stuff: we tell each other everything.

The car started, went through the gate, and disappeared down the dirt road in a cloud of dust. And I was left alone with Damián.

I wasn’t sick, of course. I went into the room and changed. I put on tiny shorts that left the edge of my ass exposed and a cropped, tight T-shirt, nothing underneath. It was hot and my nipples showed hard against the fabric. I wasn’t wearing panties. I walked around the house as if nothing were happening, barefoot, passing him again and again, letting the shorts ride up between my cheeks every time I bent to pick something up off the floor on purpose.

Damián was sprawled on a lounge chair by the pool, pretending to look at his phone. But he kept watching me every time I crossed his path. I noticed he was tense, uncomfortable and turned on at the same time. The guilt from the night before had left him mute. I let him stew in it for a while, in the silence, in the waiting. Then I walked over.

I stopped beside the lounge chair without saying anything. He looked up and swallowed hard. The bulge in his shorts was already obvious, thick and straining the fabric off to one side.

—You spent a good while watching last night —I said softly.

He didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze like a kid who’s been caught doing something stupid. I liked that even more.

—You liked watching me grope your wife’s tits, didn’t you? —I went on, even softer—. You liked seeing her wet ass, seeing me smack it.

He let out a small moan, barely a whimper, and nodded without looking at me.

I knelt on the grass beside him and pulled down his swim shorts without asking permission. His cock sprang out, hard, red at the tip, with a clear drop beading there. He jerked, made the motion of sitting up, but didn’t leave. He could have left and he didn’t. That was his choice, not mine.

I took it in my hand, weighed it, felt it throbbing against my palm. It was thicker than I’d imagined. I ran my thumb over the tip, spread that drop of pre-cum all over the head, and slid slowly down to the base. He’d been rock hard before I even touched him. I squeezed his balls with my other hand, firmly, and he let his breath out in a rush.

—Stay still —I told him—. And don’t say a word.

I took him into my mouth. I swallowed him all at once, down to the throat, and held him there until my eyes filled with tears. I pulled back slowly, sucking hard, leaving a thread of saliva hanging from the head to my lip. I took him back in, this time slower, helping myself with my hand at the base, setting the pace myself. I ran my tongue all along the vein underneath, sucked his balls one by one, licked from base to tip and swallowed him whole again. I looked up at him from below, with his cock buried in my mouth, enjoying the way his breathing broke apart, the way his abdomen tightened every time I sped up.

I pulled back for a second, lips shining with spit, and asked him:

—Did you like last night? Answer me.

—Yes —he whispered, voice rough—. Yes, I liked it.

—What did you like?

—Seeing you with her. The way you touched her.

—Dirty little voyeur —I said, and swallowed him down to the base again.

I kept going for a long while, unhurried, listening to him pant, feeling his cock swell in my mouth each time I sped up. I grabbed one of his hands and put it on the back of my neck so he’d push, so he’d drive himself into me, and he did, grabbing my hair, fucking my mouth until I gagged over and over, tears rolling down my cheeks and saliva running from my chin down to my tits.

When I had him right on the edge, when I felt him harden even more and start to tremble, I stopped. I let his cock slip from my mouth with a wet pop and moved his hand away from my hair.

I took off my T-shirt and shorts. I stood naked beside him, soaked in saliva and sweat, and watched his wild eyes roam over my whole body. I saw the urge in him to touch my tits, grab my ass, roll me over onto the grass. None of those urges were going to be fulfilled.

I climbed onto the lounge chair and sat on him with my back to him, facing the pool, giving him my back so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I didn’t let him touch my face or my breasts. I gave him only what I chose to give. I grabbed his cock with my hand, lined it up against my wet cunt, and sank down slowly, feeling it work its way in, stretching me, filling me bit by bit until I drove it all the way in and sat on his thighs, all that hard flesh buried inside me.

I let out a long moan, braced my hands on his knees, and started riding him. At first slowly, rising and falling with care, squeezing my cunt around his cock every time he was buried to the hilt. Then harder, bouncing my ass against his thighs, hearing the wet slap each time I came down. He was panting, grabbing my cheeks with both hands, spreading my ass so he could watch himself go in and out, spanking me loud in the empty yard, trying to pull my hair as if he had any right.

He didn’t. This wasn’t for him.

—Shut up —I said, never stopping—. Shut up and take it.

I leaned forward, put my hands on his ankles, and started bouncing faster, ass held high, letting him see everything, letting him see his cock disappear into my cunt and come back out shining. I shoved two fingers into my mouth, got them nice and wet, and rubbed them over my clit while I kept riding him. I felt the current start to rise through my legs, the hot tingling in my belly, and I clamped down on him from the inside, shaking all over him, with a guttural moan escaping my throat without permission.

He took advantage of it and thrust up from below, desperate, ramming into me hard to finish. I felt him swell inside me, about to come, and right then I jerked up. I yanked his cock out and left him hanging in the air, throbbing, the tip soaked with me, reaching for something that was no longer there.

—Ah, no —I said, turning around—. Not inside.

I grabbed him by the cock and started jerking him off fast, squeezing hard, looking him straight in the eye. It only took three or four strokes. He came almost immediately, with a muffled grunt, and a thick stream of semen shot out and landed on his stomach, another on his chest, another staining the shorts pooled around his knees. I kept shaking his cock until the last drop, until he trembled and pushed my hand away because he couldn’t take any more.

I stayed there looking at him for a second, sweaty, trembling, smeared with his own cum, not quite understanding what had just happened. I ran a finger over his belly, gathered up a little of the semen, and brought it to his mouth. He parted his lips and sucked my finger obediently, looking at me like a dog.

—Good boy —I said.

I stood up, grabbed my clothes from the floor, and went straight to the shower without looking back. I left him there sprawled on the lounge chair, cock dripping and legs open, cleaning himself up before the others got back.

That was his punishment for being a voyeur. That, and nothing else.

***

A while later Renata and Bruno came back with the trunk full of shopping bags. They said the town was quiet, that Bruno had made her laugh the whole way, that they’d gotten along well. I said I was feeling much better, that the rest had done me good. Damián avoided looking at me and rummaged through the groceries in the kitchen with suspicious dedication.

The rest of the day passed with a normality that felt almost comic to me. Barbecue, wine, conversation on the porch until late, the four of us as if nothing were happening. Nobody knew anything except him and me, and that shared secret had me burning all afternoon. Every time Renata passed near him and put a hand on his shoulder, I imagined him trembling on the inside. Every time he handed me a plate, I brushed his fingers on purpose, just to see him flinch.

At night, in bed, I finished getting what I wanted with Bruno. I whispered in his ear what I had done in the afternoon while he’d been flirting with my sister in the car. He didn’t get mad. On the contrary: he got rock hard against my hip and turned me face down.

We fucked like animals, quiet so we wouldn’t wake the house. I bit the pillow to keep from screaming while Bruno buried himself in me from behind, grabbing my hair, whispering things in my ear about Damián, about my sister, about what a bitch I was. He rolled me onto my back, spread my legs and drove all the way in, hunting the bottom of my cunt with every thrust. I dug my nails into his back, bit his neck so I wouldn’t scream, felt him giving me all of him, felt the bed frame creak beneath us. I came twice before he finished inside me with a grunt pressed against my shoulder.

We collapsed exhausted and sweaty on the sheets, his cum running down my thigh, and there, in that complicit darkness, the idea came to me. I offered him something that had been on my mind for a long time, something involving my sister, him, and what I was willing to set in motion. We started planning in whispers how I’d hand her over and everything he would do to her.

But that’s another story. And I’m still not ready to tell it all.