My Mother-in-Law’s Messages Kept Me Awake

I got home still feeling limp, as if I’d been taken apart piece by piece and put back together wrong. The afternoon with Renata was still clinging to my skin: her mouth on my cunt, her hands spreading my ass cheeks, the way she’d looked up at me from below while she worked me to pieces with her tongue until she dragged a climax out of me that I could still feel running down the inside of my thigh. Renata was my husband’s mother, and that afternoon we’d crossed a line neither of us ever intended to mention out loud.

I flopped onto the bed determined to lose myself in some nonsense on my phone, to pretend I was a normal woman with a normal life. It didn’t last a minute. The screen filled with notifications, and they all had her name on them.

I opened the messages and felt my mouth go dry. They weren’t goodbye words or regret. They were promises. She told me, in detail that made me squeeze my legs together, everything she planned to do to me the next time she had me within reach: how she was going to lick my cunt until it swelled, how she was going to fuck me with her fingers and with toys, how she was going to make me suck on her fingers soaked in me. I read the first one, then the second, and by the third my hand was already inside my pants, pressing my clit with two fingers and feeling how wet I was all over again.

—Renata, how could you write me these things? —I typed, even though I knew perfectly well why I was doing it.

—Really? Are you seriously surprised? —she answered almost at once—. After eating your cunt this afternoon, I was left hungry. It wasn’t enough. I still have your taste on my tongue and I want more.

I bit my lip. I want more too, I thought, and I was embarrassed by how quickly I’d thought it.

—You left me trembling a while ago —I wrote—. My clit still stings from how you licked it. I wish we could do it again right now.

—Come tomorrow, by yourself —she replied—. Tell your husband his father needs him for some work out of town. I’ll take care of sending my husband to check the country house. We’ll have the whole afternoon to fuck without rushing.

I hesitated. That same morning my husband had noticed I was off, distant, looking somewhere else. He suspected something, though he’d never imagine what.

—Won’t that be too obvious? —I asked—. Andrés saw how nervous I was today. I think he noticed something.

—Let him suspect —she said, and I could almost hear her laugh—. The last thing he’ll imagine is that his mother ate his wife’s cunt until she was voiceless and her panties were soaked in the kitchen.

***

That sentence lit me up in a way I couldn’t control. I set the phone on my chest for a second, took a deep breath, and picked it up again. The conversation had no way back now, and the truth was I didn’t want it to.

—You’ve got me bad —I confessed—. I’m touching myself thinking about how you grabbed me this afternoon. About how you spread my legs against the table and shoved your whole tongue inside me without warning. Just remembering it makes my head go blank and my cunt start dripping.

—Oh, yeah? —she wrote—. Show me. I want to know what I have to fix tomorrow.

I yanked down my pants and panties without thinking. I was soaked, more than I’d realized; the hair at my pubis was stuck to my skin and the lips of my cunt were shining open and swollen, with a thick thread of slick running down toward my ass. I spread my thighs wide, opened myself with two fingers, and took a photo of my cunt gaping open, with the pink of my clit peeking out between my lips. I sent it before I could regret it, my heart pounding in my throat.

—Just look at what’s waiting for me —she answered—. You’ve got the cunt of a hungry slut. If you knew what I’m planning to put in you, you wouldn’t sleep tonight.

—I’m not sleeping right anyway —I wrote, feeling the heat climb up my chest—. I need you here. My fingers don’t reach, they don’t get where your tongue gets.

—Mine do —she replied—. Tomorrow I’m not just using my mouth. I’m going to shove three fingers in you to the hilt, then four, and when you’re about to come I’m going to pull everything out and leave you begging. I’m going to get inside you until you ask me to stop, and even then I won’t stop.

I sat up in bed, leaned against the headboard, and let my hand do what it wanted. I started with my clit, slow circles with my middle finger already slick with my own juices. Then I slid two fingers down and shoved them in hard, feeling my cunt clench around them. Thinking about her fingers, about her low voice saying things no one else had ever dared say to me, took me to the edge without effort. With my other hand I pinched one nipple, tugging hard, the way I imagined she would do it.

—Don’t say any more —I typed clumsily, my free hand sticky over the phone—. You’re going to make me come just from this. I’ve already got three fingers inside me.

—Then come —she answered—. I want to know I’m the one who made you do it, even if I’m kilometers away. Ride my fingers like they’re mine and whisper my name.

***

I pushed my fingers upward, searching for that spot she’d found without hesitation a few hours earlier, and felt myself swelling from within. My palm stayed pressed against my clit, rubbing it with every thrust. In seconds I was arching on the bed, mouth open against the pillow, and I came with my thighs clamped around my hand, biting down on my arm so I wouldn’t cry out. Slick ran down my wrist to my elbow.

I sent her a second photo, this time from behind, with my ass cheeks spread and my soaked cunt shining between them, showing her exactly how much I wanted her. You could even see the imprint of my fingers and the trail running down my perineum. It took her a while to answer, and that pause felt endless, until an image came through from her: her skirt was hitched up to her waist, her mature, hairy cunt open under her own hand, and two fingers sunk in to the knuckle, shiny with wet. Her clit was visible, thick and protruding, and at the edge of the frame you could make out the dark nipple peeking from the neckline of her shirt.

—So you won’t feel alone —she wrote—. Look at how you’ve got me, with my cunt dripping next to my stupid husband.

I stared at that photo longer than I should admit. I enlarged the image to see better how her fingers slid in, how the lips of her cunt stuck to her knuckles every time she pulled them out a little. Renata was almost twenty years older than me, and yet there was something in her confidence, in the way she controlled every gesture, that made me feel like a girl discovering desire for the first time. With her there was no need to pretend. She was in charge, and to my own surprise, I wanted nothing else.

—You’ve got me at a thousand —I wrote back, and took my fingers to my cunt again, this time slower—. I’d give anything to have you here right now, sitting on my face, so I could lick you until you came in my mouth.

—Patience —she replied—. Tomorrow you’re going to eat my cunt until my legs shake, and then I’m going to do the same to you. I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly you won’t even be able to cross your legs without remembering my tongue.

A few seconds later a voice note arrived. I hesitated before listening with my earphones in, as if someone could hear it with me. Her voice came out low, slow, without a trace of shame. “Tomorrow I’m going to spread your ass cheeks, slut, and lick you from front and back. I’m going to put my tongue in your ass until you ask me to stop, and when you’re dripping all over I’m going to ride your cunt with the vibrator until you come two, three, four times in a row. You’re going to suck my fingers clean with your own taste. You’re going to suck me off completely.” She called me bitch, dirty little slut, my son’s sweet cunt. Words that, if spoken by anyone else, would have offended me. In her mouth, though, they melted me. I finished the audio with two fingers back inside, trembling, and came silently for the second time, clenching my teeth against my shoulder so I wouldn’t wake anyone.

—Your voice made me come —I confessed later, once I’d caught my breath—. Twice. My hand is soaked.

—And that’s me holding back —she replied—. My husband is sleeping beside me. If he weren’t here, I would have said much worse things to you. I would have described how I plan to spit on your clit and spank your swollen cunt.

—I don’t think there’s anything better than that audio —I wrote, still dizzy.

—Tomorrow I’ll prove you wrong —she answered.

***

I thought that would be the end of the night, but Renata wasn’t done with me. She sent me a short video: herself alone in the dim light, shirt unbuttoned and her beautiful, heavy breasts bare, using the rounded handle of a hairbrush to slide it slowly into her cunt. You could see it going in and out, gleaming, and how with her other hand she rubbed her clit in fast circles. In the silence of the video you could hear her breath coming in sharp little gasps and whispering my name. I was speechless. I had never wanted the next day to arrive so badly.

—So hot, Renata —I wrote, mouth watering—. You look delicious like that. I want to lick that brush when you’re done, with your taste still on it.

—That’s how I’m going to have you tomorrow —she answered—. With your legs open and crying for more. As soon as your father-in-law walks out the door, I’ll lift your skirt in the entryway and put my tongue in you right there. You’re not going to have a single minute of rest. I’m going to fuck you until my hand gets tired, and then I’m going to mount your face.

—I hope the lioness doesn’t hurt me too much —I replied, half joking, half begging her to do it.

—I’m not promising anything. You’re going to end up with your cunt burning, your tits purple from all the sucking, and your ass red from the slaps. And you’re going to thank me for it.

I laughed alone in the dark of my room, my body on fire and guilt far away, too far away to reach me. Andrés would be snoring peacefully in some other room in the world while his mother and I planned to fuck each other senseless like two heat-struck whores. And the worst part —or the best— was that I didn’t feel remorse. Only desire.

—If he knew how I am right now —I wrote to her.

—How are you? —she asked.

—So fucking hot, with my cunt dripping onto the sheet and my fingers tired from thinking about you so much. I just came again smelling my own hand.

—Don’t wear yourself out too much —she replied—. I want to find you eager tomorrow, not exhausted, and wet before I even touch you. What happened today was just the appetizer. The main course is going to split you in two.

***

—What should I wear? —I asked, already surrendering to the idea—. So I can be prepared.

—A short skirt, no panties, and a black blouse with no bra —she ordered, and the word “ordered” is the only one that describes her tone—. I want to be able to get to you without wasting time. Lift your skirt, slide my hand in, and find you ready already.

—All right —I wrote—. But you’d better deliver everything you just said. I’m already too excited.

—I’ve got a surprise so you can get an idea —she replied.

A final photo came through: a thick purple vibrator, a thin cord carefully coiled beside it, and a bottle of lubricant set next to them on the bed like the tools for a long-thought-out plan. Beside it, barely visible in the corner, was a small plug with a flat base.

—Renata, where did you get all that? —I asked, between laughter and astonishment.

—That doesn’t matter —she answered—. What matters is where I’m thinking of putting it. The vibrator in your cunt, the plug in your ass while I eat your clit, and the cord to tie your wrists to the headboard so you can’t close your legs when you try to flee from my tongue. The question is whether you can take three straight orgasms without a break.

—I have no idea —I admitted, my cunt throbbing again—. But for you I can take whatever. And if you beg me, I’ll take more.

—You sound desperate for a cock or a tongue —she wrote, and that little bubble of superiority only lit me up more—. Lucky for you, I’ve got both: fingers and a toy, and my mouth.

—I am —I replied, with no pride left to defend—. It’s been a long time since anyone fucked me like this. Andrés hasn’t touched my cunt in months. You made me come more times in one afternoon than he did all last year.

—Then let your mother-in-law take care of your abandoned cunt —she answered—. Tomorrow I grab you and I don’t let go until you beg me. You’re going to end up so fucked you won’t even be able to walk straight. For now, rest. You’re going to need it.

—Until tomorrow, Renata —I wrote—. And don’t worry about your son. I won’t say a word, as long as you keep taking care of what he stopped tending down there.

—I have no problem with that —she replied—. Until tomorrow. You have no idea what’s waiting for you. Leave your panties in the drawer. You won’t need them.

***

That night I barely slept. I kept my earphones in, replaying the audio and watching the video again and again, with my hand between my legs and my head full of her. I shoved my fingers in, rubbed my clit until it swelled like a grape, and even tried the handle of my own brush, mimicking what I’d seen her do, imagining it was her hand pushing it in. I came so many times I lost count —four, five, six orgasms spaced out and sparked back to life with my wet fingertips— and even so, when my eyes finally closed, near four in the morning, I was still hot, the sheet damp beneath me and my cunt throbbing. Not because of what had happened that afternoon, but because of everything she had promised me for the next day.

I dreamed of a short skirt and firm hands spreading my thighs. I dreamed of a deep voice in my ear telling me to open my legs wide, that I was a slut and she was going to prove it. I dreamed of her tongue between my ass cheeks and her fingers pushing the vibrator inside me. And when I woke up, with my pubes still sticky and my nipples hard against my T-shirt, the first thing I did was check my phone, just in case, in case she had written something else.

There was nothing new. Only the last line from the night before, glowing on the screen like an appointment waiting to be kept. I smiled, stretched out on the bed, took my fingers to my wet cunt one more time, and knew, without the slightest doubt, that that afternoon was going to be much better than the last. And it absolutely was.