My Brother’s Girlfriend Had Other Plans for Me

Sofía was eighteen when she understood that some people occupy the space of a house with a presence that goes beyond being a visitor. Valeria had been with Rodrigo, her older brother, for five years, and in that time she had learned exactly how every kitchen appliance worked, where her mother kept the spare keys, and which was the only armchair where you couldn’t fall asleep without ending up with a crooked neck.

She was a sister-in-law in everything but name, although by then no one in the family made the distinction anymore. They went out together on weekends, shared a bathroom without knocking, and when Sofía’s parents were working and Rodrigo was too, Valeria stayed in the house as if it were her own: cleaning, cooking, and filling the empty spaces with that ease some people have for belonging anywhere they happen to be. Sofía loved her in a way she never quite knew how to classify. It wasn’t exactly admiration or envy, but something more like a fascination she preferred not to examine too closely.

That Friday Sofía woke up late, close to eleven in the morning. From downstairs came the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the silence that settles in once the housework is already done. She went down in her pajamas and found Valeria at the kitchen island, reading something on her phone with her hair tied back and the expression of someone who had been awake for hours.

—Good afternoon —Valeria said without looking up.

—Sorry —Sofía replied, rubbing her eyes—. Did everyone leave?

—Three hours ago. Want breakfast?

Sofía nodded and sat on the nearest stool. While Valeria heated milk and toasted bread, Sofía watched her out of the corner of her eye: she was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top that rode up whenever she stretched to reach something on the shelf. Her back was perfectly straight, the kind of posture some people have without trying, and that’s impossible to fake. Sofía looked away before Valeria turned around.

They ate breakfast slowly. Valeria suggested that she get dressed and go with her to the mall; she had a few things to buy, and Sofía could take advantage of the trip too. It sounded like a good idea. She showered, picked out a blouse and jeans, and by twelve-thirty they were in the car with the radio on and the October sun coming through the windshield. It was one of those autumn mornings that feel like summer until the wind steals the illusion from you.

They spent more than two hours going from store to store. They tried on clothes they didn’t buy, ate in the food court, and ended up with more bags than they had planned. It was the kind of afternoon Sofía enjoyed without being able to explain exactly why: simply being there, moving from window display to window display with someone who didn’t make her feel small, who asked her opinion about things and listened to the answer. Valeria had that gift. She did it with everyone.

They got back home around four. Sofía set her bags on the couch and sank down beside them. Valeria did the same at the far end, and for a few minutes the two of them sorted through their purchases in silence, pulling out clothes, folding them, putting them back. The afternoon had cooled a little, and the light coming through the living-room window had already turned that golden, horizontal color of the last hours of sun.

That was when Valeria stood up, took a few steps into the middle of the room, and, with no preamble at all, took off her blouse. Sofía stopped what she was doing. Valeria rummaged through one of the bags and pulled out a black lace top she had bought that afternoon, one of those that leave the stomach bare and fasten with a little knot at the side. She put it on and turned to Sofía.

—How does it look?

—Good —Sofía replied, trying to sound natural.

—Just good?

—It’s very pretty.

Valeria took it off just like that. She pulled a red lace bra from another bag, made of fabric so fine it left nothing to the imagination, and put it on while glancing briefly at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. She turned back.

—And this one?

Sofía felt the heat in her face had nothing to do with the room temperature. The bra showed Valeria’s nipples through the lace, two hard points perfectly outlined under the red fabric, and Valeria knew it, because she was looking at Sofía with a small smile that was anything but innocent.

—It’s cute —Sofía said, looking down at her own bags.

—Do you think Rodrigo will like it?

—I don’t know.

—I think he will. Stuff like this gets him hard right away. —She paused.— Aren’t you going to try on what you bought?

Sofía said later, that she preferred to do it in her room. Valeria told her not to be silly, that it was just the two of them. Sofía gave in, more because she didn’t want to make a problem out of something that shouldn’t be one than out of conviction. She stood up, turned her back to Valeria, and took off her blouse. She pulled a bra from her bag and put it on, but when she tried to fasten it she realized the clasp was too tight around her ribs.

—I think I grabbed the wrong size —she said.

—Let me see.

Valeria came closer. Without asking permission, she started adjusting the straps, then ran her fingers over the back clasp and unhooked it. She fastened it again a centimeter lower. Sofía felt the touch of her fingers on her skin, the slight and precise pressure of each movement. She didn’t say anything.

—That was it —Valeria said—. You had it fastened too high.

Her hands slid forward. She began adjusting the bra cups with slow movements, and at some point Sofía couldn’t identify precisely they stopped being about adjusting fabric and started pressing with a pressure that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Valeria’s thumbs passed over the lace right where Sofía’s nipples were, and stayed there, tracing small circles, until Sofía felt them harden under the fabric without being able to stop it.

—There, thanks —Sofía said, stepping forward.

—Sofía.

Valeria’s voice was low. It wasn’t a question or an order exactly. It was something else. Sofía turned slowly and found Valeria’s gaze less than a meter away: an expression she might have seen before and chosen not to register, or registered and filed away somewhere where she wouldn’t have to ask anyone any questions.

Sofía grabbed her things from the couch. Valeria took them from her hands calmly and set them on the floor. Sofía tried to say something but Valeria already had her by the shoulders, pressing her slowly against the wall, without violence, with the certainty of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing and has no intention of stopping.

—Valeria, stop —Sofía said.

Valeria didn’t answer. She leaned in and kissed her.

Sofía pressed her lips together. She could feel Valeria’s tongue searching for the space between them, pushing, and something in her, something that had spent months without a name or a defined shape, began to answer before her mind could stop it. She opened her mouth for just a second and that was enough: Valeria’s tongue slid in and tangled with hers, hot and wet, tasting of coffee and something else. They pulled apart. Valeria was looking at her without blinking, lips glossy, breathing through her mouth. Sofía had her back against the wall and her breathing was a little faster than it should have been.

Valeria’s hand slid down her side, curved around her hip, and settled on the inside of her thigh, and from there started pressing upward with a flat palm, slowly, in circles, climbing the seam of her jeans until the palm pressed right against Sofía’s cunt over the fabric. Sofía closed her eyes. Her legs trembled slightly.

—Stop —she whispered.

—You don’t want me to stop —Valeria said, very close to her ear—. You’re wet. You can tell even through the jeans.

Sofía tried to press her legs together but Valeria pushed a little more of her arm over her shoulders, without hurting her, and looked straight at her. Sofía didn’t move her legs again. The heat she felt between them was no longer something she could blame on nerves. Valeria’s fingers started moving in a short, firm rhythm over the fabric, exactly where they needed to move, and Sofía realized with almost insulting clarity that Valeria knew where everything was because she had done this many times, many more times than Sofía would have imagined.

The sounds of the street came muffled through the window. Sofía felt how her body answered each pressure with a betrayal she could no longer deny, and a sound escaped her that she didn’t recognize as her own, short and deep. Valeria leaned in and kissed her again, and this time Sofía didn’t press her lips together the way she had before. She opened them. Valeria’s tongue came in without resistance and Sofía met it with her own, bit Valeria’s lower lip without meaning to, and felt the other hand rise and yank off the bra they had just adjusted, leaving her breasts bare against the cold wall. Valeria lowered her mouth to her neck, sucked hard, bit, and went even lower until she closed her lips over one nipple. She sucked it slowly, her tongue circling, tugging with her teeth just enough for Sofía to press the back of her neck against the wall and let out a moan she no longer tried to hide.

***

She wasn’t quite sure how they ended up in Rodrigo’s room. There was a hand on her wrist, a few steps down the hallway, a door closing behind them. Sofía was standing beside the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, trying to cover herself, although the bra she had on, hanging unfastened, wasn’t hiding much.

Valeria stood behind her and finished taking off the bra. She made her turn around. Then she took it off completely and let it drop to the floor without looking at it. Then she looked at Sofía, unhurried, with that focused attention that asked permission for nothing. She ran the tip of her finger over Sofía’s right nipple, very slowly, and pinched it until Sofía jumped.

—You have beautiful tits —Valeria said in a low voice—. I’ve been wanting to bite them for two years.

Sofía didn’t know what to say. Valeria gently pushed her toward the bed and Sofía let herself fall. The quilt was the same as always, her brother’s, and that detail flashed through her mind for half a second before dissolving into something else.

Valeria unbuttoned her jeans, pulled the zipper down, and yanked her clothes downward in one clean motion. Pants and panties together, down to her ankles. Sofía felt the cold air on her wet cunt, and a blush rose in her face at the thought of the puddle she knew she was leaving on the fabric of her panties. Valeria looked at them and smiled.

—Look at you. You’re soaked, Sofía.

She knelt on the floor, took Sofía by the knees, and spread her legs with both hands, opening her wide. She began kissing the inside of her right thigh, slowly, advancing centimeter by centimeter. Sofía had her fists clenched on the quilt and was staring at the ceiling without seeing anything. When Valeria’s mouth was two fingers away from her cunt, she skipped to the other thigh and started again from the knee, and Sofía let out a frustrated moan she had not planned to make.

—Patience —Valeria said.

Each touch came with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding. She wasn’t clumsy or impatient. She was slow and methodical in a way that was almost unbearable, and Sofía realized that the resistance she kept telling herself she had was starting to look less and less like resistance and more and more like something completely different.

Valeria finished taking off her jeans and panties from Sofía’s ankles and tossed them on the floor. She took a second before continuing. Sofía heard her breathing. Then she felt her hot breath between her legs. And then her tongue.

The first contact was flat and long, a single full lick from bottom to top, slow, pressing hard against the lips of her cunt until ending on her clit. Sofía clutched the quilt with both hands and arched her back suddenly. Valeria repeated the movement, again, and again, without changing rhythm, until Sofía felt every nerve in her body concentrate into a tiny point.

—You’re so sweet —Valeria murmured against the wet flesh—. I knew you’d be so sweet.

And she went back down. She opened Sofía’s cunt lips with two fingers, leaving the inside exposed to the air and to her mouth, and began sucking on her clit with closed lips, tugging at it gently, letting it go, catching it again. Her tongue went in and out of Sofía’s cunt tracing circles, flattening against the entrance, sinking in as far as it could. Valeria’s mouth moved with a calm that showed no hurry to finish, exploring every part with an attention that made thinking harder and harder. Sofía let out involuntary sounds, short and deep, that bounced off the walls of her brother’s room and that she wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if she had tried.

—Oh my God —Sofía said without meaning to—. Oh my God, Valeria.

Valeria smiled without lifting her mouth. She slid one hand up Sofía’s stomach, squeezed a whole breast in her palm, pinched the nipple between forefinger and thumb until Sofía jumped again. With the other hand she went down to her cunt and ran two fingers over the entrance, soaking them in the juices running down the inside of her thigh. She slid them up and down, testing, until she found the opening.

—I’m going to put it all the way in —Valeria said, looking at her from below—. Look at me.

Sofía looked at her. Valeria slid two fingers in slowly, very slowly, and Sofía felt her cunt open around them with a precision that tore a long moan from her. The fingers went in to the knuckles, all the way to the base, and stayed there for a second before starting to move. Sofía made a sound she didn’t recognize as her own and closed her eyes hard, pressing her head back against the quilt.

—I told you to look at me.

Sofía opened her eyes. Valeria was between her legs, her chin shiny with saliva and juices, two fingers sunk deep into Sofía’s cunt and moving in a slow, firm rhythm, curling upward with each thrust to press a spot that made Sofía see spots on the ceiling. Valeria’s mouth came back down on her clit and closed around it, sucking hard, while the fingers kept slipping in and out with a wet sound that filled the room.

—Don’t stop —Sofía said, surprising herself by saying it—. Please, don’t stop.

—I’m not going to stop. I’m going to make you come in your brother’s bed. I’m going to leave your cunt soaking these sheets.

Sofía moaned with her mouth open. Valeria’s hand found a faster rhythm, three fingers now, and her mouth kept working in parallel, with a coordination that left no room to hide. Her tongue licked her clit side to side while the fingers fucked her with short, precise thrusts, pushing her up, inward, toward the exact point where Sofía knew she wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. Sofía’s back arched on its own. Her legs trembled. She felt her inner muscles clenching around Valeria’s fingers, harder and harder, more and more often.

—I’m going to come —Sofía panted—. Valeria, I’m going to come.

—Come. Come in my mouth.

It hit her all at once and spread in waves: a contraction that started in the center and radiated outward, and Sofía clutched the quilt and held her breath for a second and then let it out in a long moan that filled the entire room. Her hips moved on their own several times, pushing against Valeria’s mouth, against the fingers still inside her, and she felt a hot spurt leave her cunt and soak Valeria’s hand and the sheet beneath. Her hands let go of the quilt and reached for her own chest without her deciding it, squeezing her tits, pulling at her nipples, while Valeria kept sucking on her clit through the spasms until Sofía had to push her face away with her hand because she couldn’t take it anymore.

When it was over, the room fell silent except for the two of them breathing. Sofía was lying on her back staring at the ceiling, breathing unevenly and weak-legged, still open, still trembling. Valeria pulled her fingers out of Sofía’s cunt with a wet sound and held them in the air for a second before putting them in her mouth. She sucked them one by one, watching her.

—You’re delicious —she said—. I knew it already.

She sat up and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. She looked down at her with that expression that asked permission for nothing.

—Change the sheets when you’re done —she said—. And get dressed. Rodrigo won’t be long.

—Yes —Sofía said softly.

Valeria left the room and closed the door.

***

Rodrigo got home around six-thirty. Sofía was in the living room with the television on and not watching anything, her hands in her lap and her gaze fixed on one spot on the screen. Rodrigo greeted her, kissed Valeria on the mouth for a second too long, and dropped his backpack on the floor beside the couch. He asked how the day had been. Valeria said they had gone downtown to buy clothes. Sofía said something she would not remember.

Rodrigo went upstairs to change. Valeria went in with him and closed the door.

Sofía turned the television volume up. It didn’t help much. Her brother’s room was directly above the living room and the walls of that house had never been very thick. She first heard the bed creak, then Valeria’s voice telling Rodrigo to put it in already, then the rhythmic, muffled thuds of the headboard against the wall. She recognized Valeria’s voice, her moans, and heard how she didn’t bother to hold them back. “Harder,” she heard clearly, “harder, give it to me all.” Sofía thought, with a clarity that made her uncomfortable, that barely an hour ago that same mouth had been between her legs, and that Valeria’s fingers probably still smelled like her when she grabbed Rodrigo’s cock. She felt a mixture of things she couldn’t sort out: shame, discomfort, and something else she preferred not to examine, something hot that was settling back between her legs despite herself.

When Valeria came downstairs twenty minutes later, she had changed clothes and was wearing her hair loose. She passed by Sofía, put a hand on the back of her neck, and planted a kiss at the corner of her lips, slowly, unhurriedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sofía noticed her breath smelled like semen.

—I’m going to heat up dinner —she said.

And she went into the kitchen as if nothing had happened.

Sofía remained motionless on the couch for a few more seconds, staring at the screen without seeing anything. At some point in the afternoon, without her being able to say exactly when, something had shifted inside her, and she suspected there was no way to put it back where it had been before.

Later their parents arrived, and dinner was like always: too much food, conversation, the familiar clatter of cutlery and chairs. Valeria served the plates, made Sofía’s mother laugh, and gently argued with Rodrigo about something Sofía didn’t follow. At no point did she look at Sofía differently than usual. Only once, when no one was looking, did she brush her forearm as she passed, and it was so brief and so deliberate that Sofía didn’t know if it had been intentional or if she had invented it herself. Under the table, she pressed her thighs together and felt that the clean panties she had put on after showering were no longer clean.

***

That night, before going to bed, Sofía stood in front of the mirror in her room. She stayed there for a moment, still, examining what the afternoon had left behind: a small mark on her neck, another on the curve of her breast, the skin slightly reddened in one spot. They weren’t scars. They were more like punctuation. The beginning of something that still had no name.

She bit her lower lip with a slight smile she hadn’t planned. Then she turned off the light, got into bed, and took quite a bit longer than usual to fall asleep.