What I Imagined with My Sister-in-Law During the Family Dinner

Another family dinner at my in-laws’ place, and once again the same routine: the long table loaded with steaming dishes, clinking glasses, the same monotonous hum of conversation. I was already on my second glass of wine and a little foggy-headed, but that was nothing compared to the fire lighting up in my chest —and lower down, in my cock, which was already starting to swell against my fly— every time Marina appeared in the doorway.

Hugo, Lucía’s younger brother, arrived late with her, as usual. Marina came in carrying the little girl in her arms, handed her to my mother-in-law with a smile, and sat down. She was wearing a pearl-gray silk T-shirt so thin it looked like a second skin. No bra, of course. Her breasts were swollen with milk, heavy, with faint blue veins just visible beneath the translucent fabric, and her nipples stood out dark and large, brazenly pressing against the silk.

The black pants hugged her hips and tightened with every movement, outlining her round ass and the slit of her cunt every time she bent over. Her belly still bore that fine line from the C-section that, for some reason, to me looked like an invitation to lick downward. She was more fuckable than ever, and she knew it. She knew it perfectly.

She sat two chairs to my left. Just close enough that, with only a slight turn of my head, I had a direct view of her profile and those milk-heavy tits moving weightily beneath the silk. Every time she leaned forward to take a dish or laughed at something, the fabric slid over her skin and I lost the thread of the conversation with my cock hard as a rock under the tablecloth.

I felt the heat rise up the back of my neck. Don’t look at her. Don’t look, idiot. But I looked. I looked at her tits, her mouth, her pink tongue when she ran it over the rim of her glass.

We’d been like this since the previous summer, since that afternoon at the pool when her knee brushed mine under the water and neither of us moved it away. We’d never talked about it. Nothing had ever happened. And precisely because of that I couldn’t stop turning it over in my head, night after night, dinner after dinner, jerking off in the shower imagining her mouth and her cunt, building in my mind a story that reality was never going to allow me.

I picked up my glass, took a long swallow, and tried to focus on my father-in-law’s anecdote about the neighbor’s new car. Impossible. Marina was laughing at something Hugo had said, throwing her head back, and my eyes kept going back again and again to that long throat, imagining it open, swallowing my cock.

Marina leaned over to pour wine for Hugo and the silk opened at the neckline, giving me a full second’s view of a white, heavy breast hanging loose. My brain disconnected completely from the table.

***

Suddenly she stood up, walked slowly around the table, and stopped behind my chair. She put her hands on my shoulders, leaned down until her tits brushed the back of my neck, and whispered in my ear, in a low, hot voice.

—I caught you staring at me all night, brother-in-law —she said—. I’ve had a hard-on since I walked through the door, haven’t I? Are you going to keep just wanting, or are you going to fuck me for once?

I turned the chair, grabbed her by the hips, and sat her astride my legs, between the plates and the glasses. Marina moaned softly while she searched for my mouth and felt, through my pants, my hard cock pressing into the crack of her cunt. I slid my hands up her back, under the silk, and felt her skin burning, her heart pounding wildly against mine.

I shoved my tongue deep into her mouth and she sucked on it hungrily, biting my lips, rubbing her cunt against the bulge in my pants. I took her tits over the silk, squeezed them, pinched her hard nipples until she let out a rough gasp against my neck. A drop of milk soaked the silk over her left nipple and I lowered my mouth and sucked through the fabric, savoring that warm, sweet liquid while she dug her nails into the back of my neck.

The lamplight wrapped us both in a bubble, and on the other side of the glass everyone kept eating and talking as if nothing were happening. My father-in-law was telling one of his stories. My mother-in-law was serving more meat. And I had Marina on top of me, rubbing her wet cunt against my fly, biting my lower lip with a smile that had nothing innocent about it.

I yanked her T-shirt up and pulled both tits out, heavy, white, with the dark erect nipples pointing straight at my face. I buried my mouth in one and sucked hard, milking the hot milk gushing from her, while with my other hand I squeezed the other breast and milked her in spurts over my fingers. She threw her head back, buried her fingers in my hair, and pressed herself against me.

—Suck my tits, fuck —she panted against my ear—. Get all the milk out of me, brother-in-law, suck like you’re my baby, milk your sister-in-law like the whore she is.

Her skin tasted like heat and milk and desire held back for months. I ran my tongue between her breasts, bit her nipple until she moaned, and she asked for more, harder, deeper.

—Don’t make noise —I told her, though neither of us could help it—. They’ll hear us.

—Let them hear —she answered, and gave a small laugh against my neck—. Let them hear you fucking me, let them find out once and for all that I’ve spent a year imagining your cock inside me.

I unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down to mid-thigh. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her cunt, shaved and shining with how wet it was, was exposed right above my fly. I yanked my cock out, hard, swollen, the head already beaded. Marina rose just enough, took it in her hand, ran it along the lips of her cunt soaking it with her juices, and slowly lowered herself onto me, centimeter by centimeter, all the way in, moaning against my shoulder to muffle the sound.

—Fuck, fuck, you’re so big —she whispered through clenched teeth—. You’re splitting me open, Daniel.

I gripped her hips with both hands and guided her, setting the rhythm, feeling how tight and warm she was, the flesh of her cunt sucking my cock like a hungry mouth. Every time I lifted her and dropped her back down, my cock came out shining with juice and sank back in until my balls slapped against the bone of her ass.

Everyone kept eating. Hugo told a bad joke and the whole table laughed. Marina rode me faster with small circular movements, her forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing the same hot air. Every time someone burst out laughing on the other side of the table, she swallowed a moan and sank her nails into my shoulders.

—Harder —she panted—. Fuck me harder, asshole, tear my cunt open right here.

It was madness. I knew it. A meter and a half away, my wife was discussing the menu with her mother; on the other side, my father-in-law was handing out more meat. And even so I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, and that impossibility made everything more intense. The danger that someone would turn their head, that someone would see my sister-in-law impaled on my cock, that everything would blow up, gave the scene an edge that ran all the way down my spine.

—Slowly —I begged, holding her by the hips—. If they catch us, it’s over.

—Then don’t get caught —she answered, and kissed me to shut me up—. Fuck, Daniel —she whispered, trembling—. Don’t stop. Right here, in front of everyone, don’t stop.

I lifted her in my arms without pulling out and turned her, set her back against the edge of the table, between the serving dishes, spread her legs wide open and shoved it back in to the balls in one thrust. Marina arched her back, bit her forearm to keep from screaming, and pushed her hips toward me wanting more. The gray silk hung from her waist, her tits bare, splashing milk onto my chest every time I hammered into her, her hair sticking to her sweaty face.

I licked her nipples while I fucked her at a brutal pace, bracing myself on the table with one hand and holding her thigh with the other. The edge of the wood dug into her ass and she herself grabbed her cunt with two fingers, opening it wider so I could go in deeper. I looked down and saw myself going in and out of her, my cock shining wet, the lips of her cunt hugging me with every thrust.

—Look how I’m putting it in you —I growled in her ear—. Look how your whore cunt swallows it.

—Yes, fuck, yes —she panted, arching—. Look at me, look at my face while you fuck me in front of your wife.

I grabbed both her tits with my hands, pressed them together, and buried my face between them while I kept pounding into her. The edge of the table creaked with every thrust, the glasses clinked, and I prayed no one would turn around. Marina grabbed my shirt, pulled me toward her, drove her heels into the small of my back so I’d go deeper. She smelled of perfume, red wine, and hot cunt, and everything else —the family, the kitchen, the world— had become a distant, blurred noise.

I held her nape with one hand and pushed two fingers of the other into her mouth. She sucked them hungrily, licked my palm, stared at me through half-closed eyes. I pulled them out covered in saliva and brought my hand down to her clit, rubbing it in circles while I kept driving into her to the hilt. I felt her tense all over, felt her cunt start squeezing my cock in waves, felt her breath catch, felt her whole body preparing to come.

—Look at me —I told her—. Look at me when you come, whore.

And she looked at me. She came trembling, biting her lips, squeezing my cock with her cunt in long spasms while I held her up so she wouldn’t collapse onto the plates. Her whole body vibrated, her hands clutching the edge of the table, her neck taut, her chest rising and falling and releasing little spurts of milk that dripped onto my shirt.

—I’m going to come inside —I warned her, my voice broken, thrusting faster and faster—. If you don’t want me to, tell me now.

—I want it —she answered, pressing herself to me with her legs—. Empty yourself inside me, here, in front of all your family. Fill my cunt with your load while your wife serves you meat.

I drove myself in to the hilt and let go, emptying my balls inside her in hot spurts, with a choked growl against her shoulder, feeling each lash of my cock filling her cunt. Marina wrapped her whole body around me and whispered yes, like that, don’t pull out, she was taking it all inside. We stayed like that, impaled, sticky, panting, smelling of sex and wine, with my cum leaking down her thigh, not daring to let go of each other.

***

—Daniel, sweetheart, could you pass me the red wine? It’s right next to you.

My mother-in-law’s voice cut through the air like a slap. I blinked. My heart was pounding like a drum. The bottle was right there, untouched, a hand’s breadth from mine. The table was full of relatives, all looking at me with puzzled faces.

Marina was still sitting in her place, a meter and a half away, with the gray silk T-shirt intact, her pants on, a glass of water between her fingers. The little girl was sleeping peacefully in my mother-in-law’s arms. No one had moved. No one had touched me. None of what I had just lived through had ever left my head.

I had my shirt stuck to my back with sweat, real sweat, that part was real. My face was burning. And under the tablecloth, a rock-hard, painful cock jammed against my fly, the tip soaking through the fabric, impossible to hide.

I took the bottle with a trembling hand and passed it to my mother-in-law.

—Sorry —I muttered—. I was thinking about work stuff.

Lucía, beside me, let out a dry laugh.

—He’s always like this. Lost in his head. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m married to a man or to a computer.

Laughter rippled around the table. “Well, at least he brings home the salary,” someone said. “That way he pays for the vacations,” another added. Everyone was laughing. Everyone except Marina.

Marina was looking straight into my eyes. With a slow, calm smile that wasn’t quite innocent. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, slowly, and took her glass again as if nothing had happened. As if she didn’t know exactly what had just happened in my head.

Impossible. She can’t know.

But that smile said something else.

I pressed the napkin over my lap to hide the hard cock and lowered my eyes to my plate. My wife asked me if I was all right and I said yes, just a little tired, work. She nodded and went back to the conversation. Hugo poured more wine. The baby made a tiny sound in her sleep and everyone smiled.

I took a deep breath and thought the next family dinner was going to be torture. Or the best fuck of my life that would never actually happen.

I lifted my gaze one last time. Marina was still looking at me. And this time it was her who, very slowly, without anyone else noticing, bit her lip and dropped her eyes for an instant to my lap, right where the napkin couldn’t quite hide the bulge.

I looked away before it showed too much. But it was already too late: I knew, with a certainty that was uncomfortable and delicious in equal measure, that I was going to spend the rest of dinner —and many more dinners after that— with a hard cock, wondering what would have happened if that fantasy had been real. And that I would never look at my sister-in-law the same way again.