I Left the Door Half Open So My Cousin Could Hear Me

I leave my bedroom door deliberately half open. It’s not an accident. I know this house’s schedules by heart, and I know that when my cousin Noelia comes back from outside and heads up to her room, she’ll have to pass right by mine. I’ve calculated everything.

I switch off the main light and leave only the little desk lamp on, the one that barely throws enough light to sketch out shadows. I lie back on the bed, on top of the sheet, and pull my pants down to my knees. I start slowly, already hard in my hand, stroking myself from base to tip with calculated slowness. I’m in no hurry. Hurry is for someone who wants to finish; I want this to last exactly as long as it needs to.

I think about her without a trace of shame. About that body that’s spent the whole summer showing me without showing me anything, about her hips, about the way tight jeans outline her cunt and split her ass in two. I imagine the things I shouldn’t imagine about a cousin—her mouth open as she sucks my cock, her tits bouncing against my face, her thighs spreading so I can sink in to the balls—and precisely because of that I get hard as a rock. I spit into my palm and start jerking off more slowly, hearing the wet sound of my hand sliding up and down.

Then I hear it. The muffled tap of her shoes on the parquet floor, the tiptoe footsteps of someone coming back late and not wanting to wake anybody. It’s coming from the end of the hallway. Getting closer.

Just in time.

I keep going, not speeding up, measuring every movement. When I figure she’s almost level with my door, I let out a long, deep sigh, perfectly audible. Not exaggerated enough to seem fake, but enough to leave no doubt about what I’m doing in there, in the dark, with my cock in my hand.

The footsteps stop dead.

There’s a silence that says everything. The kind of silence of someone holding their breath behind a door, motionless, trying to confirm a suspicion without daring to look. I picture her standing still in the hallway, back pressed to the wall, listening. And that idea, knowing she’s a meter from me while I’m jerking off thinking about her, almost makes me come too soon. I clamp two fingers around the base of my dick, cutting off the urge, forcing myself to hold back.

I make myself slow down.

—Noelia... —I whisper, low enough to seem involuntary and clear enough to carry through the wood—. You’re so hot, cousin. What a body you’ve got.

The silence grows denser. Not a creak, not a breath. I know she’s still there because I haven’t heard her steps move away, and knowing that fires me up in a way I’ve never felt before. I speed up a little, just enough for the wet sound of my hand on my cock to reach her through the door too.

—I want to fuck you so bad... —I mutter through clenched teeth—. If you only knew what I’d do to you. I’d split you in two. I’d shove my cock all the way in until I made you scream. You’d come in my mouth, fuck, I’d eat your cunt until you were dry.

I talk to her even though I pretend I’m talking to myself. I tell her things I’d never dare say to her face, dirty, precise things—how I’d suck her nipples until they went hard, how I’d lick her ass while I finger her, how I’d put her on all fours and fuck her like a bitch—and every word I whisper is an arrow shot toward the hallway. I imagine her biting her lip, squeezing her thighs, maybe slipping a hand inside her jeans while she listens. And she stays. That’s what I like most: that she stays.

My hand moves faster and faster. I can feel my cock swelling, my balls tightening, the semen rising inside me. I bite my lips so I don’t moan too loudly, but I let out just enough little gasps for her to hear them.

—I’m... I’m almost there... I’m gonna come, cousin, I’m gonna come thinking about your cunt... —I say, and finally I let go. I feel the jolt from the base of my dick, the load blasting out in hot spurts that splash over my stomach and my hand while I grind my teeth to hold back the groan. I finish with the certainty that she witnessed everything, every word and every drop.

I lie there breathing hard, my hand sticky and my cock still throbbing, listening. A few eternal seconds go by while I wonder whether she was really there or whether I’ve just been talking to an empty hallway for a while. But then I hear the creak of a loose tile in front of her room, the one I’ve known about all my life, and then the barely audible click of her door closing.

I smile in the dark. There was never any doubt. My cousin Noelia heard absolutely everything.

***

The next morning, everything pretends to be normal, and that pretending is the hottest thing in the house.

Noelia comes down to breakfast in jeans that fit her outrageously well and a T-shirt that shows nothing and suggests everything. It’s the last week of Christmas vacation and nobody suspects a thing. She says good morning to my aunt and uncle, pours herself coffee, comments on how cold it is. Life goes on placidly around the table.

But she barely looks at me.

She doesn’t speak to me even once, and yet there’s more conversation in that silence than in any chat. When she says goodbye to go shopping with a friend, she hands out kisses to the whole family. The one she gives me lasts a tenth of a second longer than necessary, and her perfume clings to my face for quite a while. My cock gets hard under the table like an idiot.

—I’m going to be a while —she warns from the doorway—. I still have half the world to buy.

Midmorning, my phone rings. It’s her.

—Hey, can you help me out? —she says, her voice too calm—. I’m at the mall looking for a present for your mom and I can’t decide. You know her better.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. Twenty minutes later I’m walking through the department store entrance, and there she is, waiting beside her friend Marina, a dark-haired girl with an easy smile who sizes me up the second she sees me, openly lingering at my crotch.

—So you’re the cousin —Marina says, drawing out the word with an intention I don’t miss.

Noelia elbows her, but both of them laugh like they share a joke I don’t quite get. Or one I understand far too well.

We wander through the perfume section. It takes us a while until I choose one I know my mother likes, and then, instead of heading to pay, Noelia drags me toward another area.

—Wait, I want to look at something.

What she wants to look at turns out to be the lingerie section.

It’s the last week of the year and the shelves are full of red garments, tiny sets meant for New Year’s Eve, bras that are almost a whisper of fabric, thongs that cover nothing. The two of them slip between the racks like two kids in a toy store, and I hang back with my hands in my pockets, trying to look natural when I’m not, and hiding the bulge that’s starting to show in my pants.

—Do you like this one? —Marina asks, lifting a red lace set that barely fits in one hand—. Think it would look good on your cousin? Imagine her wearing this, just this, with her tits half spilling out through the lace.

I feel heat climbing up my neck and my cock jerking inside my briefs.

—I... I don’t know —I stammer, and both of them crack up.

They know damn well I’m shy, and that’s exactly why they go after me. They keep showing me one model after another, sheer panties that would show a cunt backlit, thongs disappearing between the cheeks, black garters, sets tied with impossible ribbons made for a man to untie with his teeth, and each time they ask my opinion while shamelessly watching how I react and how the outline of my package grows and grows. And I can’t help imagining every one of those garments on Noelia’s body: her hard nipples showing through the lace, the wetness of her cunt soaking the sheer fabric, her ass framed by two strips of red satin. My head fills with images I shouldn’t have, and my crotch betrays me without shame.

—Look at him —Marina murmurs in my cousin’s ear, but loud enough for me to hear—. He’s hard as a rock. You can see everything.

I want the earth to swallow me. And at the same time I don’t want this to end ever.

They’ve been playing with me for a while when Noelia comes closer, presses herself against my side under some excuse or other, and in a quick move slips something into my jacket pocket. As she does it, she brushes her hand over my cock through my pants, just for a second, a touch she passes off as accidental but which makes me gasp inwardly.

—Hold this for me —she whispers in my ear, her hot breath against my neck—. And don’t take it out.

I discreetly slip a hand into my pocket and it takes me a second to understand what it is. It’s a soft piece of fabric, still warm, with a damp, sticky crotch. It’s her panties. The ones she’d been wearing until a moment ago, the ones she’s just swapped for a new pair from the store she plans to steal without paying. And they’re wet. My cousin was wet while she played with me among the racks.

I look at her in disbelief. She holds my gaze with a spark of wickedness I’d never seen in her before, while Marina bites her lip to keep from laughing. Both of them are flushed, their nipples showing under their shirts, electrified by the idea of being without panties in the middle of a department store, by the risk of someone catching them.

—You do it too —Marina challenges me in a low voice, sliding the tip of her tongue over her upper lip—. Take a pair of boxers. Change the ones you’re wearing for a branded pair. If we dare, so do you. And then you can break them in thinking about us.

I resist. I really do. But the two of them push me, put a pair of boxer briefs in my hand, and point me toward the fitting rooms with a smile that admits no refusal. In the end I give in, more to play along than anything else, and step into one of the back cubicles.

***

I pull the curtain shut, or so I think, and sit for a moment on the little bench to catch my breath. And then I realize my cousin’s garment is still burning in my pocket.

I take it out. I hold it in my hands as if it were something fragile. It’s a tiny black thong, with a crotch still warm and visibly damp from the cunt that wore it all morning. I can’t help myself: I bring it to my face and inhale deeply, pressing my nose into the soaked fabric, filling myself with her intimate scent, that sour-sweet perfume I’ve been chasing all morning. My head spins. I lick it, suck it, run my tongue over the part that’s been in contact with her cunt and taste the salty trace left there. My heart pounds against my ribs and my cock thunders against my fly.

I know I shouldn’t. I know exactly what I’m about to do and I know it’s wrong in every possible way. But my head has gotten stuck on the image of Noelia behind my door last night, listening to me, and on how she looked at me just now when she handed over the garment. There’s no going back now.

I yank my pants and boxers down in one go. My cock springs up hard and throbbing, the tip already shiny with fluid. I wrap my dick with my cousin’s warm thong, pressing the fabric against the head, and start jerking off fast, without hiding it, letting myself go completely. The wet silk slides up and down over my glans, mixing her wetness with mine. I imagine it’s her cunt squeezing me, her lips sucking me, her tongue running along my underside.

That’s when I notice it. The fitting room curtain isn’t fully closed. There’s a slit, a finger-width gap, and through it I make out two pairs of eyes. Noelia and Marina are out there, pressed against each other, following every movement I make with a lust they don’t bother to hide. I see Noelia biting her lip, Marina swallowing, both of them staring at my cock wrapped in the thong that until moments ago had been stuck to my cousin’s cunt.

And I, instead of stopping, do the opposite.

I pretend I don’t see them. I keep up the act, look at the ceiling, carry on as if I were completely alone. But inside I’m burning, because now it’s no longer a fantasy through a door: now they’re really watching me, a handspan away, both of them at once. I speed up. I grip harder, jack off with my whole hand, let the tip appear and disappear from the thong with each stroke. I want them to see, I want to show them my cock properly, I want to give them exactly the show they came to find. I spread my legs a little more, take my hand off for a second so they can see it all, hard, swollen, veins standing out, before wrapping it again in my cousin’s garment.

I hear an uneven breath on the other side of the curtain. A whisper. “Fuck, look how hard he is.” Another whisper, lower. “He’s jerking off with my panties, babe.” A nervous laugh someone smothers at once. And that finishes me off.

I feel the climax rising from my balls, that tingling you can’t stop anymore. I clench my teeth, throw my head back, and come in hot spurts into my cousin’s thong. I feel the first wave soaking the fabric and overflowing, the second following hot on its heels, the third slipping between my fingers. I catch every drop of semen in the same fabric she so generously “forgot” in my pocket, leaving it completely soaked with my load. I stay there for a few seconds, breathless, my cock still throbbing in my hand and my forehead pressed to the mirror, feeling the footsteps on the other side hurry away, pretending they were never there.

When I come out of the fitting room, with the loaded thong tucked back in my pocket, the two of them are facing away, staring at a rack with exaggerated, completely fake concentration. I’ve got the face of someone who’s just had the best jerk-off session of his life, and there’s no human way to hide it.

—I don’t like these boxers —I say, with all the dignity I can muster—. Find me some others.

Noelia turns slowly. She looks me up and down, stops at the bulge still showing in my pants, reads my face, understands every detail. And then she exchanges with Marina one of those smiles loaded with complicity and wickedness, the kind that say far more than any words ever could.

—Come on, let’s go —my cousin decides, taking my arm and pressing herself against me just enough to feel my cock still half hard against her hip—. And without paying.

We pass through the exit sensors with our hearts in our throats, the two of them wearing stolen garments and nothing underneath, and me with a pair of panties full of evidence—hers and mine mixed together—in my pocket. The alarm doesn’t go off. The thrill of getting away with it follows us out to the street, where the two of them burst out laughing.

But the truth, as I walk between them under the cold December sun, is that the theft is nothing. Nothing compared to coming in front of my cousin and her friend, knowing I was watched, desired, caught, with Noelia’s cunt still perfuming my hand. That, and not anything else, is the fantasy I’ll carry with me for the rest of the holidays.

And by the look on Noelia’s face every time she catches my eye for the rest of the day, always lingering one second too long on my fly, I know this has only just begun.