My Cousin Made Me a Woman at That Motel by the Beach

I had just turned eighteen the month before, and I still hadn’t done anything with anyone. The odd teenage kiss at a party, sweaty hands at the movies, a high school boyfriend who lasted three months and whom I hadn’t even let properly use his tongue on me. My father was old-school: when he said that summer he wasn’t letting me go on the family trip with my boyfriend, there was no arguing with him. And honestly, a part of me was grateful.

What I didn’t appreciate, at first, was having to spend two weeks crammed into a rented bus with thirty cousins, aunts, and grandparents. My family is huge and loud, and every summer they organize the same pilgrimage to the coast, with tents, a shared kitchen, and fights over who’s supposed to sweep. I would have preferred a thousand times to stay in Cuernavaca, with my books and my music, than put up with my aunts commenting on how skinny I was.

But that year Damián was going.

My cousin Damián was three years older than me, the son of my father’s brother, and he had been living in the capital for a long time. I hadn’t seen him in at least three summers. The last image I had of him was a gangly kid with acne, the same one who used to fill my hair with sand, throw crabs down my back, and laugh while I screamed. I hated him with that strange mix of hatred and fascination that girls feel for cousins who annoy them.

When he got on the bus that dawn, I almost didn’t recognize him.

Damián was six-foot-three, with light brown hair tied up in a messy knot and shoulders so broad he had to turn sideways to get between the seats. He was wearing a tight gray T-shirt, and everything showed through it. He clearly worked out. A lot. He looked at me from the bus door as if he didn’t recognize me either, then smiled and nodded at me.

—Hi, cousin —he said, and kept going to the front seat, where he was supposed to ride as his father’s copilot.

I had sat in the back, as always. From there I could see the nape of his neck, the line of his throat dropping down to his shoulders, and every time he looked in the rearview mirror our eyes met for a second. A second too long. I looked away and pretended to be interested in the landscape, in my phone, in anything. But under my shorts I could feel my thong growing wet, something that had never happened to me from looking at a man, much less my cousin.

This can’t be. He’s my cousin. He’s Damián.

I kept repeating that phrase to myself, but the body doesn’t listen to that kind of thing. At some point I closed my eyes and imagined his hand sliding up my thigh, and I had to clamp my legs together so the trembling wouldn’t show.

***

It took us almost six hours to reach the pine grove where we camped every summer, a strip of white sand between two rock formations that the family considered “their beach.” As soon as we got off the bus, my uncles started handing out tasks with military discipline. I got assigned the kitchen, a big folding table under a tarp, while the men pitched the tents.

Damián had taken off his shirt to work under the sun. I saw him from a distance driving stakes in with a mallet, his arms tense, his back shining with sweat, his abs tightening with each blow. I swallowed and went back to the food boxes. My mouth had gone dry just from looking at the bulge in his shorts when he lifted the mallet above his head.

I was lining up the coffee jars when I felt a shadow behind me.

—Need a hand? —he said, too close.

I turned, and there he was, shirtless, with a bead of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone. I had to look up to talk to him. He barely came to my chest.

—No, I’m... I’m almost done —I answered in a high voice I didn’t recognize as mine.

He stayed a couple of seconds longer than necessary, not moving, watching me with a half smile. I lowered my gaze for an instant without meaning to and saw how his cock was outlined against his shorts, thick, hanging toward his left leg. I looked at it for a tenth of a second and then raised my eyes again, red to my ears. He noticed. His smile widened. Then he nodded and left. I leaned on the table and took a deep breath. Swallow me up. Please, earth, swallow me whole.

***

At two in the afternoon, after lunch, my aunts and the little kids decided to go down to the sea. I changed inside the tent. I put on a modest one-piece black swimsuit and, over it, a loose green T-shirt to cover my breasts, which have always been a little bigger than I’d like my father to notice. Under the swimsuit I was wearing a tiny thong I had packed secretly, just in case. I had no intention of ever wearing it in front of my uncles.

We spent two hours in the water. We played at throwing each other in, the little kids jumping on my shoulders, me bracing myself against the waves with my back to them. At some point I got out to lie on the sand and dry a little in the sun. Five minutes later he was sitting beside me.

Damián came with two soft drinks. He offered me one and stayed. And started talking.

He told me he’d been working for two years at a design firm in the capital, that he earned well, that he had a small apartment downtown and lived alone. He asked me about my studies. I told him I was in my first year of university, that I also traveled to the capital every week, that I spent three days there at a great-aunt’s house. He narrowed his eyes.

—So if you come to the capital that often, I don’t understand why you’ve never come to see me.

—Because you hated me when I was little.

—I didn’t hate you —he said, looking out at the horizon—. I annoyed you because I liked you. That’s what stupid kids do.

I felt the sand shift under me. I didn’t know what to say. I just drank my soda, staring ahead, feeling my heart trying to punch its way out through my throat. And something worse: how my nipples were tightening against the wet swimsuit, so hard they showed through the T-shirt.

Damián stood up and held out his hand.

—Want to take a walk? There’s a place nearby where we can get a coffee.

***

The “place nearby” was less than a kilometer away along the coastal road. It was a low, whitewashed building with a discreet sign that read “Hostal Las Palmeras — rooms by the hour.” I wasn’t stupid. I knew what it was. But I also knew there was a café attached to the reception, and that gave me an excuse to go in without feeling like a shameless girl.

The café was full. Every table occupied by couples who seemed in a hurry to finish their coffee. Damián looked around, then at me, and went up to the counter.

—I’m going to get a room. That way we can get the sand off and drink the hot chocolates in there. Is that okay?

—Yes —I said, without thinking.

And I knew right then, exactly in that instant, that I did mind, but that I wasn’t going to say no.

The room was nicer than I expected. Big bed with a white quilt, air conditioning, a small terrace overlooking the pine grove, a bathroom with a walk-in shower. I had never been in a motel. It wasn’t like in the movies; there were no ceiling mirrors or anything weird. It was just a small, clean hotel room.

Damián left the keys on the nightstand and said he’d shower first. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands between my knees, listening to the water running and doing mental calculations. It was almost five-thirty. Dinner was served at seven back at camp. If we left in an hour, we’d be back on time. No one would notice.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist, wet hair stuck to his forehead, his bare chest still with drops sliding down his skin. He looked at me, smiled, and motioned toward the bathroom.

—All yours.

I went in. I closed the door. Or so I thought.

***

I had been under the hot water for barely five minutes, eyes closed, trying not to think about what was happening, when I felt the shower screen open behind me. Damián stepped in behind me without saying a word, completely naked, and placed his hands on my hips.

—What are you doing? —I said, in a thin voice, not daring to turn around.

—Do you want me to go?

I didn’t answer. I shook my head slowly.

I felt his body press against mine from behind, all of him, his chest against my back, his hard belly against my waist, and lower down, between my ass cheeks, his hard, hot cock fitting into the hollow as if it knew where to go. I let out my breath in a rush. I had never felt anything like that in my life. It was thick, heavy, and throbbing. I could feel it pulsing against my wet ass.

Damián’s hands slid up my stomach to my breasts. He took them fully in his hands, squeezed them, pinched my nipples between his fingers until a short moan slipped out of me. My knees went weak.

—Fuck, what tits you have, cousin —he murmured against my ear, his voice rough—. I’ve been imagining them all day.

One of his hands slid slowly down my stomach, slipped between my legs, and his fingers parted the lips of my cunt under the water. He found the clit on the first try. He started rubbing it in slow circles with the pad of his middle finger while his other hand kept squeezing one breast.

—You’re soaked. And it’s not from the water —he whispered.

He slipped a finger inside me. Just one, all the way in. I arched against him, resting the back of my head on his shoulder, feeling how his cock shifted on its own between my buttocks every time he breathed hard. He added a second finger. He started moving them in and out, curling them upward, while his thumb kept rubbing my clit.

—Damián... —I panted.

—Tell me.

—I don’t know what...

—Shh. Just let go.

He turned me gently. Water was falling over both of us. I looked down for a second and saw his cock fully from the front for the first time: hard, curved upward, thick at the base, the swollen purple head brushing my stomach. A small sound slipped from my throat. Then I looked up and met his eyes. His lashes were wet and his breathing was fast.

He took my face in both hands and kissed me. It wasn’t a soft kiss or a shy boy’s kiss. It was an adult kiss, deep, with an open mouth and his tongue seeking mine. I had never been kissed like that. I felt my knees buckle, and he held me by the waist against his body. His wet skin against mine. The hot water pouring down over us. His hard cock pressing between our bellies.

—You’re beautiful —he murmured by my ear—. I’ve been thinking about this all day. About fucking you.

—I’ve never... —I started to say.

—I know.

He took one of my hands and lowered it. He made me close my fingers around his cock. It was hot, hard as stone, throbbing against my palm. I didn’t know what to do. He guided me, moved my hand up and down slowly, teaching me how to jerk him off under the water. The skin slid back over the head every time I moved my hand down.

—Like that, very good —he panted—. Squeeze a little harder. Yes, like that.

I looked at him, fascinated. I had never held a cock in my hand. It was much bigger than I had imagined from the few videos I had secretly watched. A clear bead was peeking out from the tip. He grabbed the back of my neck and gently pushed me downward.

—Taste it. Just a little. If you don’t like it, you stop.

I knelt in the shower tray, water splashing into my face. It was in front of me, thick, shining. I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip, timidly. It tasted like soap and something salty. Damián let out a deep moan. Emboldened by that sound, I opened my mouth and took the whole tip in. I sucked it, pressing my lips together, feeling the skin sliding against my tongue. I took a little more. I choked halfway down, coughed, and he stroked my hair.

—Easy. Just a little. You don’t have to take it all.

I tried again. I took his head in and out in the rhythm he set with his hand on the back of my neck, not forcing me, letting me learn. Every time the tip touched the back of my palate, he moaned softly. Between my legs I felt an unbearable emptiness, a throbbing that wouldn’t go away, and without realizing it I started pressing my thighs together to calm it.

—Stop, stop —he said suddenly, pulling my hair back—. I’m going to come, and I don’t want to come in your mouth the first time.

He turned off the water. He wrapped me in a towel and carried me almost in his arms to the bed. He laid me down carefully, pulled the towel away, and stood looking at me for a few seconds before leaning over me. I was trembling. Not from cold, although the air-conditioning was high and my nipples stood out. I was trembling from panic, from desire, from both at once.

—Look at that cunt you’ve got —he murmured, opening my legs with both hands—. Pink, tight. Virgin. Fuck.

He kissed my neck, my shoulder, the hollow between my breasts. He stayed there a good while on my tits, sucking one nipple while pinching the other between his fingers, tugging, torturing them until I arched my back looking for his mouth. He went down to my navel with his mouth, unhurried, licking every inch of me. He opened my legs with his knee, and I let him open them without the slightest resistance.

I felt his hand down there, first his soft fingers parting the lips of my cunt, then his hot breath. When his tongue touched my clit for the first time, I jolted and let out a cry I smothered with my hand. He laughed against my cunt and kept going. He started slowly, giving long, flat licks from the entrance upward. Then he focused on the clit, sucking it gently, trapping it between his lips, playing with the tip of his tongue.

—Damián, please —I moaned, not knowing what I was asking for.

—You like having your cunt eaten, cousin?

—Yes... yes...

He slipped a finger inside while he kept sucking me. Then two. He curled them inside, searching for something I didn’t know existed, while his tongue worked on top without stopping. I felt a pressure rising and rising, unstoppable, a trembling that started at the tips of my toes. When I came, I came screaming into the pillow, my thighs clamped around his head, my hips lifting on their own off the bed. He didn’t let go until the last spasm.

He climbed up to kiss my mouth. I could taste myself on his tongue. I was trembling all over, my cunt throbbing, my legs still open.

—Damián, I don’t know if... —I started again.

—Easy —he said, coming up to kiss my mouth—. Slowly. If it hurts, we stop.

He positioned himself between my legs. He gripped his cock with his hand and rubbed it over my vulva, wetting the tip with what I was leaking, sliding it up and down, tapping my clit with the head. I moaned without being able to control it. Then he rested it right at the entrance.

I felt the tip pressing, searching for the opening. I closed my eyes, clenched my hands in the sheets. He pushed gently. There was a sharp, brief sting, and then the sensation of being filled from inside in a way I had never imagined. It didn’t exactly hurt. It was more a dense pressure, like being split in two without breaking. I felt him advancing, thick, hot, opening me inside centimeter by centimeter. When he reached the bottom, a long moan escaped me.

He stayed still for a few seconds, propped on his elbows, looking into my eyes.

—Are you okay? Fuck, you’re so tight. Don’t move or I’m going to come already.

I nodded. I couldn’t get my voice out. I could feel every throb of his cock inside me, as if his heart had dropped down there.

He started moving carefully, slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then entering again with calm. Each thrust drew a small moan from me that I tried to swallow. His arms beside my head, his lips seeking my neck, his breathing getting more and more broken. I had never imagined anything could feel like this. It wasn’t the pain that surprised me: it was how the pain disappeared and made room for a current that rose from my lower belly to my chest every time the tip struck inside me.

—You take my cock so well, cousin —he growled in my ear—. Virgin cunt. Fuck. I’ve never fucked a virgin before.

Hearing that turned me on even more. Me, the well-behaved niece my father wouldn’t let go out with her boyfriend, being fucked by my older cousin in a motel room. The idea made me feel as ashamed as it did hot.

Once I’d gotten used to it, I wrapped my arms around his back and dug my nails in without meaning to. He took that as an invitation and started moving deeper, faster. His hips began to slam into me, and I could feel each hit of his balls against my ass. The bed creaked. I moaned into his shoulder and bit his skin so I wouldn’t scream. My body moved on its own, in the rhythm he set, and every time he changed speed I felt waves of something I didn’t know how to name.

—Get on all fours —he panted, pulling out of me all at once.

The feeling of emptiness when he was gone was so abrupt I almost asked him to come back. I turned around clumsily and got on my knees on the bed, leaning on my elbows, my ass toward him. I felt his hands opening my cheeks, and then his cock again, this time going even deeper. I let out a muffled scream into the pillow.

—Fuck, what an ass you’ve got —he murmured, grabbing my hips and driving in to the hilt—. And so tight, my God.

He started fucking me like that, holding me by the hip, with long, firm thrusts that shook my whole body. I could feel my breasts moving under me with every blow. He slipped a hand underneath and found my clit. He started rubbing it with two fingers while he fucked me. I thought I was going to die. In less than a minute I was trembling again, feeling another orgasm coming over me, stronger than the first.

—I... I’m going to come again —I moaned, hiding my face in the pillow.

—Come on my cock, cousin. Come.

And I came. My cunt tightening around him, contracting in waves, while he kept pounding me without stopping. I screamed into the pillow, biting it, while the orgasm tore through me from top to bottom.

Before it had even passed, he turned me onto my back again. He spread my legs wide, lifted them over his shoulders, and entered me again. From that angle I could feel him much deeper. Each thrust made his balls slap against my ass with a wet sound.

—Look at me —he said, grabbing my face.

I opened my eyes. I looked at him. His cheeks were red, his eyes shining, his lips parted. In that instant I understood that he wasn’t a cousin. He was a man. And I had decided, without deciding it, to let him in.

He sped up. The thrusts turned short, fast, wild. The bed hit the wall. I dug my nails into his forearms and moaned in his face without being able to keep quiet.

—I’m coming, I’m coming —he growled, tensing all over.

I felt him go rigid, hold his breath, drive in to the hilt with a deep groan from his chest. I felt something hot spilling inside me, thick spurts, one after another, and the thought of what that meant flashed through my head for a second, but it was already too late to think about anything. He kept pushing slowly as he emptied into me, until the last drop, and I kept getting little spasms from watching him come inside me.

He stayed on top of me, panting, his forehead resting against my neck. I stroked his wet hair. When he pulled out, a thick white thread spilled from my cunt onto the white sheet. I also saw a small pinkish streak on the sheet and another on him. I felt embarrassed, but he gave a soft laugh and kissed my temple.

—Don’t move —he said—. Stay like that.

He lay down beside me. He held me, kissed my forehead, stroked my side for a long while. He slid a hand over my stomach and slowly stroked my cunt again, feeling his semen dripping down the insides of my thighs. I couldn’t stop staring at the ceiling. My whole body was buzzing, my legs shaky, my breasts still hard. I was in a place I didn’t know how to come back from.

—We didn’t use a condom —I murmured suddenly.

—Yeah. You’re not on anything either, right?

I shook my head without looking at him.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then he pulled me tight against him.

—We’ll talk tomorrow. Get dressed now. Your father will kill us if we’re late for dinner.

I got dressed in silence, my legs still trembling, feeling terrified and more awake than I had ever been in my life. I had to stuff paper into my thong because what he’d left inside me kept dripping out. We left the motel at six-thirty. We walked back to camp along the road, not touching, laughing as if nothing had happened. When we arrived, my aunts were setting the table under the tarp and nobody asked where we’d been.

That night, when I got into the tent I shared with two little cousins, I lay there staring at the fabric above me. I was thinking about what would come next. Whether my period would come. How I would look at him for the rest of the vacation. What would happen when we went back to the capital and he sent me the first message asking me to visit him at his apartment.

But that, that’s a story for another day.