My Cousin and I Were Left Alone in the House

The truth was, I hadn’t wanted to come. I’d turned twenty-eight a month earlier, and I was already sick of the family obligation to shut ourselves away in the vacation house for an entire month. I arrived at three in the afternoon with my suitcase half-packed and only one thing on my mind: for Lucía to show up. My favorite cousin, the only real accomplice I had in this family, coming through the front door as if the air in the living room only began to move when she crossed it.

—Hi, Camila. I’m glad you came. I thought you were going to bail this year —were the first words she said to me when we hugged.

—Believe me, I wasn’t going to come. My mom dragged me here by the hair —we both laughed with that complicity born of years, the kind that’s brewed in shared secrets.

We put on the family act for a couple of hours. Tea with Grandma, mate with the aunts, a conversation about the weather with the uncle who only ever talked about the weather. When we couldn’t take it anymore, we ran upstairs to the bedroom we’d shared since we were little. I shut the door and slid the bolt before I’d even taken off my sneakers.

—Tell me everything. I want all the details —I said, throwing myself onto the bed beside her—. How the hell did you start fucking your boss?

—Only if you tell me how you started masturbating live on the internet and how much you make a month.

I laughed and turned my head to look at her.

—Deal.

She took my face between her hands and gave me a quick peck, almost like a greeting. It had been our thing since we were nineteen: every big secret was sealed that way, with a kiss that said, “This doesn’t leave the two of us.”

—I’d been managing Rafael’s schedule for about six months —she began—. I’d never seen him in person because he was traveling almost all the time. I knew he’d come back from Europe, but our schedules never lined up. Until two months ago. I was alone in the house, finishing up the arrangements for an event, and Alejandra wouldn’t be home for a long time. Then suddenly I heard the door and he came in with his jacket over his shoulder and that exhausted look of a thirty-eight-year-old man who knows exactly what he wants.

—And?

—He stared at me and asked if I was cold. I was wearing a gray tank top that left nothing to the imagination. I told him I wasn’t. Then he asked me for a whiskey. I brought it to him, and when he took it from my hand, he held my wrist for two seconds longer than he should have. That same afternoon I ended up masturbating in the guest bathroom, thinking about him. A week later he got my number. He didn’t text me about work. He sent me a picture of his hard cock with a message that said, “I’ll be waiting for you at home tomorrow.” And I went.

—You’re a gorgeous slut —I said, biting my lip—. And Sebastián?

—We’re supposedly a couple, yes. But he bores me. He’s a mama’s boy, and I’m already thinking of dumping him.

—If you dump him, I’ll lend you Rodrigo. One weekend only.

—You have no idea how badly I want your boyfriend, you bitch. But now it’s your turn. I’ve watched three of your streams, and I need you to tell me how the hell you got started.

—Rodrigo’s fault —I told her—. One Sunday we were lying on the couch watching porn when a banner popped up for those girls who do live sex shows. We both got turned on by the same one. I kept watching the screen, and he picked up his phone. After a while he said, “Bet you don’t have the guts to do the same thing.” I was so horny that I said yes without thinking. He set up my profile in twenty minutes, and that same night was my first live show. I made eighty dollars in an hour, with nothing but my tits out. Now I make fifteen thousand a month, three times a week, two hours at a time.

They called us down to eat. We went downstairs with our cheeks flushed and our panties soaked, doing our best to hide it. That night we slept almost on top of each other. Our hands wandered beneath the sheet, sliding up over a hip, down along a thigh, but we didn’t cross any line. Neither of us had ever been with another woman. We wanted to be each other’s first, but not with the whole family breathing on the other side of the wall.

The days that followed drove us crazy. We’d made two rules: only pecks, no hands. The first one fell the next day. We were in the kitchen with Grandma and Aunt Mónica, chatting about nothing, when Lucía placed her hand on my ass over my shorts. I turned my face toward her and smiled, giving her permission. As soon as the old ladies turned away, she smacked me hard enough to make a sharp crack. I cornered her against the wall behind the pantry and devoured her mouth for ten seconds that were worth a month. From that day on, we kissed in every corner where there were no witnesses: the laundry room, the garage, behind the lemon tree at the back.

On Thursday afternoon, Grandma got a call. Someone had tried to break into her house in the city. We offered to stay behind together until Saturday, when the caretaker would arrive. Everyone gratefully agreed. At four in the morning on Friday, the house was empty. Just Lucía and me.

***

We woke up late and had breakfast in the kitchen without touching each other, waiting for the right moment. I went upstairs to the bedroom and put on the skimpiest bikini I owned, a black thong that barely covered my nipples. I took out a joint I’d brought hidden in my toiletry bag and went down to the patio. I put on a filthy reggaeton song at full volume, lit the joint, and stretched out on the chaise lounge.

—Let the party begin, Cami —I heard behind me.

Lucía appeared in a red bikini with two beers in her hand. I took a drag from the joint and moved close to her mouth to pass her the smoke. She accepted it slowly, eyes closed, and blew it back over my lips. We began moving to the music, a beer in one hand and the joint in the other, rubbing against each other as if there were nothing else left to do. Her nipples showed through the bikini. When the joint had burned out and the cans were empty, we got into the pool.

In there, with the water warmed by the January sun, we stopped pretending. I grabbed her by the nape and thrust my tongue deep into her throat. She ran her hands over my ass and shoved the thong well up into my crack, pulling it higher until I moaned against her mouth. I bit her lip.

—Let’s get out —I said—. I can’t eat you in the water.

We climbed out dripping wet and sprawled across the double chaise lounge beneath the awning. I yanked open her bikini top and took her tits in both hands. They were perfect and round, her nipples already hard from all the rubbing. I put one in my mouth and sucked it slowly, teasing the tip with my tongue until she began arching her back. I squeezed the other with my hand, pinching her nipple every time she dug her nails into my waist.

—Turn around —she said, her voice hoarse.

I turned around. I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the back of the chaise lounge, and pushed my ass toward her. She smacked me three times, hard, one after another, leaving the shape of her hand on my left buttock. Then she pulled my thong down to my knees and pressed herself against my back. I felt her right hand slide down my belly, slip between my thighs, and find my clitoris at once. She began moving her middle finger in circles, slowly at first, then faster, while she nibbled my shoulder with her mouth and whispered things in my ear.

—You’re soaked, Cami. Really soaked, not like in the videos.

She slipped two fingers inside me and curled them forward, searching for my spot. They were long, with nails that had been trimmed a week earlier. She kept moving them, with the steady wrist of someone who knew what she was doing, while I fucked myself harder and harder on her hand. When I finally found my voice to ask her not to stop, she pulled out her fingers, brought them to her mouth, and sucked them as if they were candy. Then she brought them to my lips, and I opened my mouth and sucked my own taste from them. She pushed them back inside, three this time, and opened me mercilessly. In less than a minute I came standing up, trembling against her, with a long moan that startled the birds in the garden.

I turned around and kissed her. I kissed her with my mouth still full of my own taste.

—Now you —I said—. Inside. To the couch.

We went inside dripping wet and flushed. She climbed onto the living-room couch, kneeling against the backrest, and stuck her ass up for me. She pulled the bottom of her bikini down to her thighs and began slowly rolling her hips, teasing me. I knelt behind her, put my hands on her buttocks, and spread them wide. I ran my tongue from her clitoris to her asshole, one long, flat, insistent lick, and she let out a moan so high-pitched that her voice broke. I did it again, more slowly, pressing firmly against her clitoris at the end of the stroke.

—God, Cami, don’t stop. Don’t stop for anything.

I coated my fingers with saliva and pushed two into her ass while continuing to work her cunt with my tongue. I moved them inside her in a steady rhythm, in and out, while I sucked her lips and swallowed all the wetness running down her. She reached a hand back to grab my hair, holding me against her ass and asking for more.

I glanced up for a second and saw her. She’d picked up her phone without me noticing and was recording. A lot of people would have stopped, would have protested. I looked straight into the camera, smiled with my mouth shining, and kept eating her out. I pulled my fingers free and pressed my face back against her cunt, and two minutes later she came, squeezing my head between her thighs. I stayed still until she stopped trembling, and only then pulled away.

—Come here —she said, tossing the phone onto the cushion—. Now I want to try scissors. It’s the only thing we haven’t done.

We settled with our legs intertwined, her half-reclining and me sitting facing her. I thrust my hips forward until our clitorises touched. We both moaned at the same time, long and surprised by how it felt. I began grinding against her slowly, and she matched my movement. With one hand she lifted the top of my bikini, the only garment I had left on, and grabbed my tits while we kept moving.

—Faster —she begged—. Cami, faster.

I obeyed. I thrust hard, my wet cunt sliding against hers, our clitorises colliding every time. She arched her back and squeezed my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. We both came almost at the same time, a long orgasm that left us sprawled across the couch, her on top of me, our skin stuck together with sweat and pool water.

She lay on top of me and began running her tongue over my neck, my cleavage, and the nipples within reach. She was about to lower her mouth to my belly when her phone rang.

—Remember when I told you about Rafael? —she asked, reaching for the phone.

—Yes. What does he want now?

—I sent him the video while you were eating me out. He just replied.

I slid my right hand between her legs to check. She was still dripping. I pushed two fingers inside her and moved them very slowly while she stared at the screen.

—Well? What does he say?

—He sent me a video of himself jerking off. He says we left him hard as a rock and that he’d be thrilled to fuck both of us at the same time.

We watched the video together. Just hearing him moan made the heat rise through me again. I took the phone from her hand, turned on the camera, and recorded a new clip: I kissed her deeply, then lowered myself and bit one of her nipples until she moaned for the camera. I stopped recording and attached a message: “We accept, but for now, entertain yourself with this.”

I handed her the phone and settled myself on top of her.

—He can stew in his desperation until next weekend —I told her—. You and I have until Saturday night to make up for all the years we lost. And we’re only getting started.