My Cousin Asked Me if I Wanted to Be His First

New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house always followed the same script: too much food, the uncle repeating the same joke he’d been telling for years, and the little cousins running between the chairs until someone sent them to bed. I’d spent twenty-two years enduring that tradition with a mix of affection and resignation. But that night, when Uncle Ernesto walked in through the door with his new wife on his arm and Mateo appeared behind them, I knew this New Year’s would be different.

His name was Mateo. The new wife’s stepson, my uncle explained with the kind of awkwardness adults get when they try to redraw a family tree on the fly. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. He had the kind of face that isn’t easily forgotten: a strong jaw, light eyes under thick brows, a slightly crooked nose as if it had been broken once and he hadn’t cared much. He smelled of citrus over a woody base, a perfume that lingered in the air for a few seconds after he passed.

We were introduced with the usual discomfort of these situations.

—Mateo —he said, and when he shook my hand, his thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. It wasn’t accidental.

—Valeria —I replied, noticing that I was looking at him far too directly.

He smiled. A calm, unhurried smile that clearly said he had all night.

So there it was: a newly appeared in-law cousin, gorgeous as sin, and me in a burgundy dress I’d bought thinking the party would be boring. Life has a sense of humor. And I could already feel my panties tighter than they should have been.

***

Dinner unfolded with the predictable rhythm of these gatherings. Crossed conversations, children running between chairs, my grandmother repeating the same story about when they lived up north. I drank sparkling water and tried not to look too often toward the far end of the table, where Mateo patiently listened to Uncle Ernesto talk about some investment nobody really understood.

But I noticed it.

Daniela, my cousin, was looking at him in a way I knew perfectly well. She was a year younger than me and had the habit of wanting everything I wanted too. She wore a very tight black dress and had chosen the seat closest to Mateo with a strategy that was obvious to anyone who knew her well.

She said nothing. She only watched. And every so often she smiled at nothing, with that expression of someone who already has a plan.

What I didn’t expect was what came next.

I was just about to serve myself more salad when I saw it. Daniela had slipped one foot out of her shoe. Without looking, with a calm that struck me as absolutely shameless, she slid it under the table. I followed it with my eyes, leaning in slightly, pretending I’d dropped my napkin.

Daniela’s foot was on Mateo’s crotch. And it wasn’t still.

She moved it slowly, with calculated pressure, up and down. Up to the belt buckle, down to where the bulge pressed thickly against his trousers, then back again. Her toes searched for the exact center with a precision that could only mean she’d been thinking about it for a while. Mateo’s cock had gone hard under the fabric; I could see it perfectly: the line of his dick pushed sideways, thick, impossible to hide. Mateo kept talking to my uncle. His face was a wall. But I could see his knuckles whitening around the fork, the way his jaw clenched every time she squeezed his balls with the instep of her foot and dragged her toes over his swollen cock.

I froze.

I couldn’t look away. My cheeks burned. Under the table, without thinking, I pressed my thighs against the chair, feeling my cunt wet itself without permission, feeling my panties stick between my lips. The heat inside me was uncomfortable and intense, and had nothing to do with the heating.

Daniela increased the pace. Now she was making small circles with the tip of her foot, right on the head of his cock, and every time she pressed, Mateo exhaled through his nose in a way nobody would have noticed if they weren’t looking exactly there. A small dark stain began to spread on the pale fabric of his trousers, right where the head of his cock was pushing against the cloth. Pre-cum. The son of a bitch was dripping under the table, at New Year’s dinner, in front of the whole family. It was small. But it was there, and it was growing.

Daniela saw it too. She looked at him. Smiled. And didn’t stop. On the contrary: she planted the tip of her toe right on the head and rubbed in circles until the stain doubled in size.

When Mateo got up abruptly, he mumbled something about the bathroom and disappeared without looking at anyone, pressing the napkin against his fly to hide the bulge. Daniela poured herself water with the calm of someone who has just won a chess game.

I sat staring at my plate, not seeing a thing, my cunt soaked through and my nipples so hard they showed through my bra and dress.

***

The hours passed with that particular slowness of year’s end. The clock hands moved to eleven, then quarter to twelve. The toasts drew closer with their load of artificial expectation. I kept drinking, talking to the usual people, laughing at the right moments. And every time I changed position I felt the damp friction of the fabric against my clit, and had to bite down inside my cheek not to close my eyes.

But my eyes were on Daniela.

And at some point, without anyone noticing, she and Mateo disappeared. First he did. Then she, five minutes later. None of the aunts noticed. My grandmother was crying because someone had put the usual song on the speaker. Uncle Ernesto was handing out champagne glasses.

The bells arrived with their noise and brief burst of excitement. Hugs, kisses on the cheeks, the ritual of the twelve grapes nobody ever manages to finish on time. I went from embrace to embrace without thinking about anything, but as soon as I could shake free I slipped into the hallway.

I searched the back room. Empty. In the upstairs bathroom. Empty. In the kitchen. Nobody.

I stopped in the hallway, thinking. And then I remembered the roof terrace. My grandparents’ house had a huge roof terrace, with clotheslines and plastic chairs nobody had used in years. That was where we used to go smoke as teenagers when the adults weren’t looking.

I went up the stairs silently, pushing the metal door open carefully.

I saw them right away.

They were between the sheets hanging on the clotheslines, as if the white laundry had wrapped them away from the world. Daniela with her back against him, her black dress hiked up to her waist, her panties hanging from one ankle. Mateo had his trousers lowered to mid-thigh and his shirt unbuttoned. And they were fucking. Standing up, with her gripping one of the clothesline posts, arched, and him holding her by the hip with both hands, thrusting in and out with a slow, deep rhythm that made the clotheslines sway slightly.

Mateo’s cock was thick, long, and gleamed wet every time it slid almost completely out of Daniela’s pussy before plunging back in to the balls. I saw his clenched ass tense with every thrust. I saw my cousin’s cunt lips open around that dick every time he shoved it inside. I heard the wet, obscene sound of soaked flesh slapping against flesh every time his hips hit her ass.

Daniela was moaning very softly, biting her fist to keep quiet, gasping “more” and “like that, asshole, like that” in muffled whispers. Mateo answered in her ear with a rough voice:

—Shut up, fuck. Shut up and take it. I’m going to fill you to the brim.

I stood frozen in the doorway.

I didn’t leave. I couldn’t. I watched them as if I were seeing something that should not exist, but that was, without a doubt, the most honest thing that had happened all night amid the fake hugs and lukewarm champagne. I pressed my thighs together and felt there was no point pretending anymore: I slipped a hand under my dress, over my panties, and pressed my palm against my cunt. I was soaked. Dripping. The fabric of my panties was sloshing between my fingers. I rubbed myself slowly, never looking away, holding my breath every time Mateo sank all the way into my cousin.

And then a hand covered my mouth from behind.

I didn’t scream. Something in the touch told me there was no need. I turned slowly, my hand still under my dress and my fingers shining.

It was Rodrigo. Daniela’s brother. He was twenty and had a face that had always seemed too young to me, but that night, with his dark eyes fixed on me and his breathing ragged, he seemed like someone else. His gaze was locked first on the scene by the clotheslines, then very slowly drifted down to my hand between my legs. He swallowed. I saw the bulge grow inside his trousers in real time. He pointed with a tilt of his head to the other side of the roof, away from where Daniela and Mateo were.

I followed him without saying anything.

***

We stood behind the water-tank shed, where the darkness was almost complete. From there came the sounds from the other side, lower now, almost muffled by distance. Rodrigo was looking at me. I was looking at him. Neither of us said a word.

—Can I? —he said very softly, his voice rough.

I didn’t ask him what he wanted to do. It was obvious. And so was the answer.

—Yes —I said—. Everything.

I took his hand and shoved it under my dress, straight between my thighs. His breath hitched when he felt the wetness. I guided his fingers over my panties, then inside, leading him until he had them buried to the knuckles in my soaked cunt. Rodrigo made a muffled sound, something between a groan and a gasp, when he felt how tight and wet I was.

—Have you ever touched a girl like this before? —I whispered in his ear.

He shook his head, eyes nearly closed.

—No.

I bit his earlobe and moved his hand myself, teaching him the rhythm, letting his fingers learn how soaked cunt lips open, how to find the clit, how to slide inside. I put his palm against the bone, the tip of his thumb on my clit, and pressed so he’d understand.

—There. That spot. Don’t leave that one alone.

He started moving it. Awkward at first. Learning. When I pushed his fingers deeper and made him curl them, his face changed: he got it. He shoved two fingers deep into me and stroked inside with the pads of them, never stopping rubbing my clit with his thumb, and a moan escaped me that I had to smother against his neck.

I found the fly of his trousers with my free hand. Lowered the zipper. Slipped my hand into his boxer briefs. The heat I found there stole my breath. My fingers traced him slowly, learning. He was firm, thick, nervous, throbbing with held-back urgency. The tip was already wet. I took him by the base and squeezed, pulling him all the way out into the cold roof air. He was hard as a rock and trembling in my hand.

—It’s your first time —I said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded, eyes fixed on mine. His ears were red in the dark.

Something in that admission completely undid me. And turned me on even more. The idea of being the one to break him in, to be the first to take that cock into my mouth, to teach him to fuck on the roof terrace of his grandparents’ house while his sister let herself be opened on the other side of the sheets, tightened my stomach with a sharp jolt of pure filth.

—Then we do it right —I told him, and kissed him.

He kissed me slowly at first, as if afraid of breaking something. I shoved my tongue into his mouth without asking, and he gave it back with a growl, his hands tangled in my hair, learning the right pressure as he went. I kept stroking his cock slowly, squeezing from base to tip, feeling another drop of precum escape every time I milked him.

—Suck me first, yeah? —I whispered in his ear—. Show me how well you know how.

I turned him against the wall and got down on my knees. I had it at mouth level, thick, throbbing. I ran my tongue from his balls to the tip, very slowly, and he gripped the wall with both hands. I took the head into my mouth, wrapped my lips around the glans, rolled my tongue under the frenulum, and looked up at him. His eyes rolled back.

—Fuck... Valeria... —he gasped.

I took his whole cock into my mouth. All the way down. I pressed my nose against his pubic mound and stayed there a second, feeling his entire body tense. I started sucking him with rhythm, up and down, sucking hard every time I came up, letting saliva run down his shaft to his balls. He tried not to move, but his hips pushed forward on their own, slowly fucking my face.

—Fuck my mouth, cousin —I said as I pulled off for a second—. Learn. You’re not going to break me.

I took his hand and put it on the back of my neck. When he understood he could, he started moving. Softly at first, then faster, until he was fucking my mouth while gripping my hair, breathing out of control. I let him, eyes watering, swallowing, feeling him swell in my mouth on the edge of coming.

—Stop —I said, pulling off just in time—. Don’t come. Not yet.

A frustrated growl escaped him. I laughed under my breath.

I stood up. I leaned back against the cold cement wall and hiked my dress up to my waist. I dragged my panties down my thighs; they ended up hanging from one ankle. I grabbed his cock and rubbed it myself against my open cunt, up and down, coating it with my own fluids until he moaned again.

—Cousin —I whispered in his ear, feeling him tense at the sound—. Do you want to really be the one to take me first?

His breathing hitched.

—Please —he replied, voice broken.

—Then put your cock in me. Slowly. All of it.

I guided the tip to my cunt entrance. He rested it there, trembling. He pushed.

When he entered, both of us held our breath at the same time.

I was so wet he sank all the way in with a single thrust, to the bottom. I felt him forcing his way through, the head burying itself deep inside me, the balls slapping against my ass. I arched against the wall and dug my nails into his back over his shirt.

—Fuck —he whispered—. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

—Hold still a second —I told him—. Hang on. Don’t move or you’ll come.

He stayed still, breathing into my neck, pressed tight against me, with his whole cock buried inside. I deliberately squeezed my cunt around him and he let out a rough moan.

—Don’t do that —he gasped.

—No?

I squeezed again. Another moan. I smiled in the dark.

—Now fuck me —I said—. Slowly. Learn how it’s done.

He started moving. Awkward at first, honest after that. Nothing calculated, nothing performative. Just the weight of his body learning mine, his hands discovering where to brace, his breathing getting more and more ragged in my neck. I guided him with small movements of my hips, with my palms flat on his back, and he followed with a concentration that felt tender and devastating at the same time.

—Like that —I whispered—. All the way in. Pull almost all the way out and shove it all back in.

He obeyed. He pulled out until only the tip remained inside, then plunged back in hard. Every thrust tore a gasp from me that I smothered by biting his shoulder through his shirt. I grabbed one of his hands and put it on a breast, inside my dress, and he squeezed, played with the nipple, tugged at it as if he had just discovered what it was for.

—Harder —I asked—. Faster. You’re not going to break me, cousin, don’t be afraid.

He found a different rhythm. Rougher. He was fucking me, driving me against the wall, his thighs slamming into mine, his cock coming in and out faster and faster. I lifted one leg and hooked it around his hip. Opened myself more. He got deeper.

—Oh, God —I moaned—. Oh, fuck, like that, like that...

—You like it? —he panted, surprised by his own words—. You like how I’m fucking you?

—Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop.

—Tell me.

—Tell you what?

—Tell me you like how your cousin fucks you.

I looked at his face. Dark eyes, blazing, mouth open. My cunt clenched just from hearing it.

—I love how my cousin fucks me —I whispered in his ear—. I love having my cousin’s cock in my cunt. You’re going to be the first to come inside me tonight, you hear me? The first.

A moan almost like pain escaped him. He sped up. He fucked me wildly, without rhythm, driven by want, and I could feel the orgasm climbing inside me, gathering in my belly, feel my clit rubbing against his pubic bone every time his hips collided.

From the other side of the roof, the last sounds of Daniela and Mateo still carried over, now very low, almost completely faded. Soon there was only ours: his breathing, mine, the wet sound of his cock entering and leaving my cunt, the sharp slap of skin against skin, the brush of clothes against the cement wall.

—Valeria —he said, voice wrecked—. I’m going to come. I’m going to come, tell me where.

—Inside —I said, gripping his ass with both hands and driving him deeper into me—. Right here. All of it. Let it all go.

—But...

—Shut up and come inside your cousin.

That was enough. His whole body tensed, he drove his cock all the way in and stayed there, trembling, while I felt the hot spurts firing inside me. One, two, three. I counted them. Each one left me fuller. And with the first spurt I came too, arched against that cold wall, biting my lip not to scream, my cunt clenching his cock in spasms that wrung the last drop out of him.

I felt him shaking. I felt him give in without reserve, without any of the defenses men usually keep even in moments when they shouldn’t. It was his first time, and it was truly his first time, and something about that complete surrender —knowing he’d been emptied into me for the first time— made me finish long and hard, with contractions that made him moan into my neck. I came with him still inside me, biting my lip to keep quiet, back arched against that cold wall while downstairs the family toasted the year beginning.

When he finally pulled out, the seed was dripping down both our thighs. I ran a finger over the tip, collected a drop hanging there, and licked it off in front of him. His eyes went dark again.

—Careful —I told him—. If you look at me like that, I’ll suck you off again.

He laughed, hoarse. Still nervous.

***

We straightened our clothes in the dark. I pulled up my soaked panties and felt the warm seepage running down the inside of my thigh. We went down the stairs separately, a few minutes apart so nobody would notice. In the hallway, before the sound of the party pulled us back into the world, Rodrigo took my wrist.

—Was it good? —he asked.

I laughed softly.

—Stupid question. I still have you inside me, dripping down my legs.

He went red to the ears. That new smile of his appeared, one I hadn’t seen before, the smile of someone who has just crossed a border and doesn’t fully know yet what it means.

I went back into the living room where the aunts were still dancing and Uncle Ernesto was trying to teach my grandmother how to make a toast without spilling the champagne. I looked for Rodrigo from the other end of the room. He was looking for me too.

Daniela came back ten minutes later, alone, her hair slightly mussed and a satisfied expression that barely fit on her face. Mateo showed up a little later and went straight for something to drink, not looking at anyone.

Nobody noticed anything. Or if they did, they filed it away under that category of things families prefer not to mention.

I sat on the sofa with a glass of champagne I never finished, feeling my cousin’s seed still slowly leaking into my panties, thinking about that roof terrace, about the weight of a body learning mine, about what it means to be the first for someone at the exact moment the year changes.

I drove home slowly, with all the windows rolled down even though it was cold. I needed the air. I needed the silence. I needed to remember, without anything interrupting it, every detail of what had happened. Every thrust. Every dirty word. The sticky heat still pulling between my thighs.

And I knew that wouldn’t be the last time.