My Mother-in-Law’s Messages Kept Me Up All Night

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, her hands, the way she’d looked at me while I came undone. Renata was my husband’s mother, and that afternoon we had crossed a line neither of us ever intended to mention out loud.

I flopped onto the bed determined to lose myself in some phone nonsense, 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 words of goodbye or regret. They were promises. She told me, in detail that made me squeeze my thighs together, everything she planned to do to me the next time she got me within reach. I read the first, then the second, and by the third I already had my hand resting over my pants, pressing slowly.

—Renata, how could you possibly think to text me things like this? —I typed, even though I knew perfectly well why I was doing it.

—Really, are you surprised? —she replied almost instantly—. After this afternoon, I was left hungry. It wasn’t enough. 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—. I wish we could do it again.

—Come tomorrow, on your own —she answered—. Tell your husband his father needs him for some work out of town. I’ll make sure to send my husband to check on the country house. We’ll have the whole afternoon.

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

—Wouldn’t that be too obvious? —I asked—. Andrés saw me nervous today. I think he realized something.

—Let him suspect —she replied, and I could almost hear her laugh—. The last thing he’ll imagine is that his mother ate his wife out until she was left speechless.

***

That sentence set me on fire in a way I couldn’t control. I set the phone down on my chest for a second, breathed deeply, and picked it up again. There was no turning back in that conversation, and the truth was I didn’t want there to be.

—You’ve got me messed up —I confessed—. I’m touching myself thinking about how you grabbed me this afternoon. Just remembering it empties my head.

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

I pulled my pants down without thinking. I was soaked, more than I’d realized. I took a photo and sent it before I could regret it, my heart pounding against my throat.

—Look at that. Look what’s waiting for me —she replied—. If you knew what I’ve got planned for you, you wouldn’t sleep tonight.

—I’m not going to sleep the same anymore —I wrote, feeling the heat rise through my chest—. I need you here. My fingers aren’t enough.

—Mine are —she answered—. Tomorrow I’m not just going to use my mouth. 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. Thinking about her fingers, about her low voice saying things no one else had ever dared say to me, carried me to the edge without any effort.

—Don’t say any more —I typed clumsily—. You’re going to make me finish just from this.

—Then finish —she replied—. I want to know I’m the one making you do it, even if I’m miles away.

***

I sent her a second photo, this time from behind, showing her exactly how much I wanted her. It took her a while to answer, and that pause felt endless, until a picture of her own came through: her hand between her legs, her skin shining, her fingers lost inside herself.

—So you won’t feel alone —she wrote.

I stayed staring at that photo longer than I should admit. 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 kid discovering desire for the first time. With her there was no need to fake anything. She was in charge, and to my own surprise, I wanted nothing else.

—You’ve got me at a thousand —I texted her—. I’d give anything to have you here right now.

—Patience —she replied—. Tomorrow you’re going to see what I’m capable of. I’m going to leave you so sensitive you won’t even be able to cross your legs without thinking of me.

A few seconds later a voice note arrived. I hesitated to listen with my headphones on, as if someone might hear it with me. Her voice came out deep, slow, with not a shred of modesty. She described in full detail what she planned to do to me and called me things that, from anyone else, would have offended me. From her mouth, though, they melted me. I finished the audio trembling, my breathing broken, and had to bite my hand so I wouldn’t make a sound.

—Your voice made me finish —I confessed afterward, once I’d caught my breath.

—And that’s me holding back —she replied—. My husband’s asleep beside me. If he weren’t here, I’d have said much worse things to you.

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

—Tomorrow I’ll prove there is —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: alone, in the half-dark, using the handle of a brush to show me what she imagined doing to me. I was left speechless. I’d never wanted the next day to arrive so badly.

—So hot, Renata —I wrote—. You look delicious like that.

—That’s how I’m going to have you tomorrow —she replied—. As soon as your father-in-law walks out the door, you won’t get a minute’s rest. I’m going to devour you the way a lioness devours her prey.

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

—I make no promises.

I laughed alone in the darkness of my room, my body burning 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 lose ourselves in each other again. And the worst part—or the best—was that I felt no remorse. Only desire.

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

—How are you? —she asked.

—Hot as hell and with fingers tired from thinking about you so much.

—Don’t wear yourself out too much —she replied—. I want to find you eager tomorrow, not exhausted. Today was just the appetizer.

***

—What should I wear? —I asked, already surrendering to the idea—. So I’m ready.

—A short skirt, nothing underneath, and a black blouse —she ordered, and “ordered” is the only word that describes her tone—. I want to be able to get to you without wasting time.

—All right —I wrote—. But keep every promise you made me. I’ve already gotten too excited.

—I’ve got a surprise for you so you can start getting the picture —she replied.

A final photo arrived: a vibrator, a thin rope carefully coiled, and a bottle of lubricant beside them, laid out on the bed like the tools of a long-thought-out plan.

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

—That doesn’t matter —she answered—. What matters is what I plan to do to you. The question is whether you’re going to be able to handle it.

—I have no idea —I admitted—. But for you, I can handle anything.

—You sound desperate for a little attention —she wrote, and that bubble of superiority only turned me on more.

—I am —I replied, with no pride left to defend—. It’s been a long time since anyone made me feel this way.

—Then let your mother-in-law take care of that —she answered—. Tomorrow I’m grabbing you and not letting go until you beg me. For now, rest. You’re going to need it.

—See you 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 attending to.

—I have no problem with that —she replied—. See you tomorrow. You have no idea what’s waiting for you.

***

That night I barely slept. I kept my headphones on, replaying the audio and watching the video again and again, my hand between my legs and my head full of her. I came so many times I lost count, and even so, when my eyes finally closed near four in the morning, I was still hot. 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. I dreamed of a deep voice whispering in my ear what it was going to do to me. And when I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone, just in case, just in case she’d written something else.

There was nothing new. Only the last line from the night before, glowing on the screen like a pending appointment. I smiled, stretched out in bed, and knew without the slightest doubt that that afternoon was going to be much better than the previous one. And damn if it wasn’t.