I Confessed to the Priest What Happened with My Brother-in-Law

—Hail Mary most pure.

The voice on the other side of the lattice was younger than I’d expected. It threw me off for a second. I had come looking for an older priest, someone who had already heard everything, not a man who sounded barely older than me.

—Bless me, Father, for I have sinned —I said, crossing myself and checking that the curtain was properly closed. I didn’t want a single ray of light getting in—. It’s been three weeks since my last confession.

Then I fell silent. I wasn’t ready to say out loud what I had come to confess. The silence went on too long.

—My son, what do you wish to confess?

—Father… are all sins forgiven?

—That is a difficult question. You sound nervous. Do you think you have done something grave?

—Yes, Father. Very grave.

—The short answer is yes. All sins can be forgiven, but repentance must be sincere, and you must make the act of contrition. Are you willing?

—Yes, Father. I don’t know if mine is more complicated than that.

—It can’t be more complicated. Tell me and we’ll see together.

His voice had something soothing about it. I imagined he must have heard murderers, thieves, women who had stopped loving their husbands. But mine was different. Mine was worse.

—This past week… —I began.

—Go on.

—My in-laws invited us to spend Holy Week at their house in a village in Galicia. It’s a small place, with a very beautiful procession, Father. They invited my fiancée and me, and also my sister-in-law and her boyfriend.

—I understand.

—We arrived Wednesday night, pouring rain. It took us almost twice as long because of the weather. When we got into the house, only my mother-in-law was waiting for us. I can’t complain about her. —I paused—. Forgive me, Father. I’ve just sinned again. I have a lot to complain about when it comes to my mother-in-law. But that night she was a saint: she stayed up waiting for us with a breaded cutlet and some slightly stale potatoes.

—Go on.

—We were exhausted, so we ate quickly. When we went upstairs to the bedrooms, my mother-in-law told us, as was only natural, that couples couldn’t sleep together. Until August we won’t be married.

—Of course.

—Since there were only two rooms free, the sisters would sleep together in Lucía’s room, my sister-in-law’s, and I would sleep with Lars, her boyfriend, in Carmen’s room, my fiancée’s. It was late and the others had already gone to bed, so I slipped silently into the room.

—Continue.

—It was a very narrow room, Father. The bed was pushed up against the corner so the two of us could just barely fit. You should have seen how small it was. I went in without making a sound. It wasn’t raining anymore and moonlight was coming through the window. I got undressed quickly, put on my pajamas, and got into bed with a man I didn’t know. With my brother-in-law. Having never seen him before. Picture the situation.

I let out a nervous laugh. The priest didn’t join me.

—I understand. Go on.

—I stared at him for a while. But that doesn’t count as a sin, does it, Father? There was little light, but you could tell he was well built. Good-looking, as we say where I come from. He was sleeping so peacefully. And I was dead on my feet looking at him.

—Very well. Continue.

—In the middle of the night, Father, I noticed Lars was waking up. He had to go to the bathroom. But between the bathroom and him was me, and the bed was so narrow there was no way to get down on his side. So he climbed over me.

—I see.

—And that’s when I felt it.

—You felt?

—His cock, Father. His dick. It was hard as a rock and dragged its entire length over my hip, a hot weight that left a mark on my skin through the pajamas. It was slow, Father, very slow, as if he were doing it on purpose. I felt every centimeter pass. I could even feel the veins on that swollen cock brushing me, and the head, thick, that got caught for a moment in the elastic of my pants before sliding to the other side. Heat rushed up from my groin to my neck and I got goose bumps all over. My nipples hardened under my T-shirt, my cock swelled up all at once. He moved quickly after that and went to the bathroom. I heard him peeing for a good while; he must have been desperate. A long, thick stream hitting the bottom of the toilet. He came back to the room, climbed over me again —and this time I’d swear, Father, that he paused a second longer than necessary, with his bulge right over my stomach— and went back to sleep. I wasn’t able to fall asleep again. I lay there terrified by what I had just felt, with my cock hard in my pants, throbbing, begging me to touch it.

—That’s a good sign, my son. Recognizing the feeling.

—Is it? I don’t know. —I thought I heard a creak somewhere in the confessional. I jumped, but figured it was my imagination—. In the end I fell asleep. When I woke up, Lars was gone. I showered, got dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen. And look how funny, Father: that was when we were formally introduced. Everyone was laughing about us having slept together before we knew each other.

***

—I was uncomfortable, Father. Because the more I looked at him, the more handsome he seemed to me. He had hair so blond it was almost white, skin brown as caramel from getting so much sun, and very light blue eyes. I’d never seen a guy like that in my life.

—Is he Spanish?

—He’s from here, yes, but his father is Norwegian. That’s why he’s so tall, I think. And he swims, which is why he’s so strong. He’s also very smart, he’s an engineer and finishing a doctorate. And funny, Father. He made jokes that had us all cracking up. Even my mother-in-law. I couldn’t look him in the eye and everybody kept telling me I was acting all tongue-tied.

—Continue.

—I, Father, am normal. Even if I can’t see well with this lattice and the darkness, I’m a normal guy. Dark hair and eyes, Spanish through and through. I’m not short, I’ve got a bit of a belly, but my arms are strong. I’m a standard-issue Iberian macho —I laughed, but the priest didn’t laugh with me.

—Continue, my son.

—Lars and Lucía seemed very much in love. With my in-laws I’ve always tried to be very respectful of Carmen. No kissing in front of them, no keeping my hands on her. But they kissed, hugged, sought each other out. That made me a little jealous. Look, another sin, and I hadn’t even noticed. I looked at Lucía and felt envy.

—And of him?

—Of him? —I hadn’t thought about it, but it was a good question—. Him too, of course. Yes, him too. Anyway, we went to the procession, then to Mass and to eat. We had a good day. In the afternoon, Carmen suggested going to the town pool, so off we went to spend the afternoon there.

—Go on.

—Lars, who’s really lovely, was trying to talk to me. And when I was about to get into the pool, he grabbed me from behind. Like a joke, Father, like he was about to toss me in. But when he made that move he held me around the waist, and his whole body ended up pressed against mine. His crotch, Father, his crotch was right between my buttocks. And I felt his whole cock against my ass. Over the swimsuit, but it was unmistakable. A heavy, warm rod that settled right into my cleft as if it knew where to go. And instead of letting go right away, he squeezed me a second longer, rubbing it a little up and down while he whispered in my ear, “one, two, three, brother-in-law.” What I felt was enormous, Father. Enormous. And that was while it was soft. If that thing soft was already casting a shadow on my ass, I didn’t even want to imagine what it would be like hard. Then… I got an erection. My cock went rock hard instantly, bulging the swimsuit like a mast. I had to run from the edge and go back to my towel to lie face down, because my dick has some size to it too and it would have shown perfectly. I pressed my balls against the rough towel fabric trying to make it go down, and there was no way.

—I understand.

—Everyone kept telling me how weird I was acting. The girls got in the water, but Lars came to lie down next to me. I pretended to be reading a book. He tried to make conversation. He told me he had almost no body hair. I, on the other hand, am pretty hairy. He asked me if I’d ever shaved. I told him no. He said that as a swimmer he’d helped a lot of teammates shave, and if I wanted, he could help me. That he himself would run the razor over me, Father, over my chest, over my stomach, “and lower down too, if you let me,” he said quietly, with a smile. And to top it off he put his hand on my thigh, palm open and warm, and squeezed it once while staring straight into my eyes.

—I see.

—Father, my cock was so hard at that moment I couldn’t get up. A thick drop leaked out and stained the inside of my swimsuit. How humiliating. That had never happened to me before. Luckily the girls came back and we stayed with them until dinnertime, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Lars all afternoon: the way his package showed as he came out of the water, with the swimsuit clinging to him, outlining every centimeter of that dick.

***

—When my in-laws went to bed, the four of us stayed up playing Monopoly. We’d brought a bottle of wine as a gift, so we opened it. I don’t usually drink, Father. With three glasses I was already slurring my words. Lars laughed a lot at me. Or with me, rather.

—Continue.

—We started talking about anything and everything, once our tongues were loose. Carmen and I said we were virgins and planned to wait until marriage. Lucía said she was one too. Lars said he was too, but I didn’t believe that for a second. We kept talking for a while longer until I started nodding off, and we decided to finish the game and go upstairs to sleep.

—Continue.

—Lars took his clothes off as soon as he got into the bedroom. And I felt something I had never felt in my life, Father. A heat all over my body, a kind of pressure. He took off his T-shirt slowly, and I saw every muscle in his back tense, the shoulder blades, the line of wet hair at the nape of his neck. Then the pants, unhurried. He had the perfect body. All tan except for the swimsuit line, white, right on his ass. A perky, firm swimmer’s ass. And his cock, Father, was huge. It hung between his legs soft, thick, with his balls heavy underneath, hanging low as if they’d just been filled. It measured several fingers above his thigh.

—Size is beside the point, my son.

—Well, Father. I’ll tell you later why it does matter. Anyway, I saw him naked putting on his boxer briefs, and I got another erection. He bent down to pick up the boxers from the floor, giving me his ass, and his buttocks parted a little, letting me see for a second the dark crease between them and the weight of his balls hanging between his legs. I make a point of never masturbating, you know? But Lars asked me if it was true that I was a virgin. I told him yes. He asked me if I had never done anything with anyone, Father. I swore I hadn’t, and changed the subject by looking away from his package.

—Continue.

—I put on my pajamas as best I could, and this time I positioned myself on the wall side. To keep from having dirty thoughts, I turned toward the wall and waited to fall asleep. With the wine it wasn’t so hard this time. But after a few hours, Father, I woke up.

—Go on.

—There was no way to go back to sleep. I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t find a position. My cock wouldn’t go down, Father. It was hard there inside the pajama pants, wetting the tip with fluid. I turned and looked at him, Father. How peacefully he slept, how he breathed. The night was warm and he’d almost kicked the sheet off. He was wearing only his boxer briefs. I could see his abs perfectly, his beautifully built chest, the collarbones, the line of fine blond hair running down from his navel and disappearing into the black boxers. But I only looked at one place: the huge bulge underneath. The fabric was tight, it formed a tent. His thick glans showed to one side and the entire length crossed to his groin. Every so often it jerked, as if it had a pulse of its own. He was sleeping with a hard cock between his legs, Father, and I couldn’t stop looking.

—My son…

—I know, Father. Terrible. I had thoughts… —I fell silent for a moment—. How many sins have I got, Father?

—The number doesn’t matter, my son. Continue. What happened?

—Yes, Father. Well, I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and touched him over the boxer briefs. It was hard as a rock. Burning. I felt the throbbing of that cock against my palm, a slow, strong pulse, like a second heart between his legs. I don’t know what came over me, but I started sliding my hand up and down over the fabric, squeezing it, measuring it with my spread fingers, feeling the tip of the glans swell until it peeked up over the waistband. I closed my hand around it and pulled upward until I felt a damp patch on the fabric: clear semen had leaked out, soaking the boxers. He was breathing deeply, almost snoring, but more agitated. I couldn’t stop. My cock was so hard it felt like it was going to burst, and with my free hand I grabbed it over my pajamas and started squeezing it so I wouldn’t come just from looking. I moved closer to smell him, Father. I lowered my face to the edge of the waistband and breathed deeply. He smelled like a man, like clean sweat, like pool water still. I didn’t want to wake him, only smell him.

—Continue.

—But something took hold of me. It was going to ruin my life, my future with Carmen, everything. But I wasn’t thinking, Father. Everything was blurry. Maybe it was what was left of the alcohol. Very carefully I lifted the waistband of the boxers and freed his member from the prison of the fabric. It sprang out at once, bouncing against his abdomen with a dull thud, over the blond pubic hair. It was beautiful. —I swallowed—. I mean…

—Don’t worry about the words, my son. Go on.

—It was beautiful. Long, thick, with swollen veins running along it. His balls were big, taut, drawn up almost against the base, heavy. He had a perfect foreskin that I slowly pulled up and down, revealing the purple, shiny glans that filled out completely with a fat bead of clear fluid every time I drew the skin downward. It was so thick that, and I have big hands, I couldn’t wrap all the way around it: my thumb didn’t quite reach the others. I started masturbating it, moving the skin up and down very slowly at first and then faster, my palm tight around it, feeling every vein, every throb. The tip began to pour out more and more slime until strings formed between my fingers and his shaft. I felt heat all over my body, my hair standing on end. I was drooling without even noticing. I was breathing so hard I was afraid of waking someone up. I have always respected Carmen, Father. But I had never felt anything like that. With my other hand I reached down for a moment and grabbed his balls, weighing them in my palm, squeezing them gently. They were hard, tight, throbbing in my hand. And he, without opening his eyes, let out a low moan, a “fuck” that came from deep inside him.

—Go on, my son. Go on.

—I moved my hand up and down faster and faster. The slime from the tip ran down the shaft, wetting his pubis, slipping onto my wrist. The wet sound of my hand made a chac chac chac, and I was terrified it might be heard from the hallway, but I couldn’t stop. I forgot they might catch us, I forgot everything. I ran my tongue over my palm to lubricate it better and took hold of his cock again, now slicker, and squeezed hard while I jerked it. And suddenly, Father… —I lowered my voice, afraid someone might hear us on the other side of the confessional—. Suddenly I felt something on the back of my neck.

—On the back of your neck? —the priest asked, his voice broken. As if he were short of breath.

—Yes, Father. Pressure on the back of my neck. It was his hand. Pushing.

—Pushing?

—Yes, Father. He was pushing my head downward. Hard. Fingers spread at the nape of my neck and his thumb sunk in behind my ear. It startled me terribly, but I couldn’t stop. I was possessed. Everything was blurry. And when I felt the pressure dragging my mouth toward his cock, I opened my lips and took him in all the way, Father. The tip first, thick, salty, still dripping that clear fluid that flooded my tongue at once. And I started sucking him, up and down, trying to get all of it in. My mouth stretched until my jaw hurt. I could feel the veins against my tongue, the glans bumping the roof of my mouth, the taste of his whole body.

—You couldn’t… control yourself even a little?

His breathing had grown heavier. I thought it was from the indignation of hearing my sins.

—No, Father. I closed my eyes and let myself go. I used my tongue to give him more pleasure, wrapped it around the glans, ran it underneath, over the frenulum, and sucked the tip like it was a candy, my mouth hollowed out, squeezing with my lips. Then I took it back to the back of my throat, holding back the gagging until my nose was buried in his blond pubic hair and I could feel his balls against my chin. His hand pushed me lower, not letting me pull off, and tears came to my eyes from holding my breath. When he finally let me come back up, I took a breath for a second and went back down. Saliva dripped from the corners of my mouth, over his balls, wetting the sheet. And his hips began rising frantically, ramming my throat from below, fucking my mouth like it was a cunt, Father. I panicked and recovered some of my senses. I brought my hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t make any noise, because he was starting to moan too loud. But his hips kept moving, Father, faster and faster, and he kept squeezing the back of my neck harder and harder, and I could feel his cock swelling even more inside my mouth. And suddenly I remembered. —Shame silenced me.

—What, my son? Go on!

—What happens when a man finishes. —I was mortified saying it. My cock was pressing against my belt now, aching—. And I panicked that my mother-in-law might see some evidence in the morning. A stain on the sheet, a drop on the floor. Any trace of the sin committed by her two sons-in-law.

—Continue.

—Then I pulled back for a second to catch my breath, but I didn’t stop jerking him off. I worked his cock with both hands, one up and one down, very fast, while I looked at the swollen purple head, about to blow in my face. When the hip movement stopped and his whole body tightened —the abs clenched, the thighs like stone, the balls drawn up against the shaft— I knew it was the moment. I took his cock into my mouth, making a cavity with my lips, sealing it well, with the tip resting on the back of my tongue. My other hand was still over his mouth, feeling the breath of the moans he couldn’t let out, and the other kept squeezing the base of the shaft, milking it upward so not a single drop would spill.

—Go on, my son.

—I let him come in my mouth, Father. The first spurt hit the roof of my mouth with such force I nearly choked. It was thick, hot, a lash. And behind it came another. And another. Five, six thick spurts, Father, filling my mouth until there was no room left. I could feel his cock contracting against my tongue with every release, the base tightening under my fingers. Making absolutely sure nothing spilled. Not a drop. My cheeks puffed out.

—Well done, my son —I heard him say, his voice breaking.

—Well done?

—No, no. I mean, I can only imagine how hard it must be to tell me these things. Go on.

—Ah, yes, of course, Father. So he emptied all his semen into my mouth. I thought I wouldn’t like the taste, but it tasted like cured meat, a little salty, a little bitter, so I swallowed it all in two long gulps, feeling it go thick down my throat to my stomach. Then I kept sucking the tip for a while longer, getting every last drop out of him, squeezing the shaft from the base upward so nothing would remain inside. I cleaned the sensitive glans, now soft, with my tongue until he gave a spasm and gently pulled my head away because he couldn’t take any more. I put his cock back into his boxers, carefully, as if I were putting it to bed. I didn’t dare look him in the face. I only heard him say, “You suck cock so well, brother-in-law,” before turning over and going to sleep. I stayed there lying down, with his taste still in my mouth, my cock hard and dripping in my pajamas, and with my hand I jerked off in silence until I came over my own stomach, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound.

I heard noises on the other side of the confessional. As if the father were moving some small piece of furniture, or something closer to his own body. A rhythmic rustle of fabric.

—Everything all right, Father?

—Yeees —he exhaled.

—Father, can you see how much I have sinned?

The priest took a long time to answer. His breathing took a while to calm.

—God forgives everything if there is sincere repentance. Do you want me to give you your penance?

—Penance? But, Father, I haven’t finished yet.