What Happened with My Sister-in-Law That Morning

It all started because my oldest son, Marcos, let it slip over breakfast one morning that he’d been fucking Miriam, my brother Andrés’s wife, for months. He said it with that disconcerting calm twenty-year-old boys have when they confess something that should scandalize you. I looked at him not knowing whether to feel pride or alarm, and ended up asking him if he was happy. He told me yes, that Aunt Miriam sucked cock like her life depended on it and that the dirty slut begged him to come inside her. And he suggested I do the same with her.

—Mom, if you fuck Aunt Miriam, the circle closes —he said, spreading butter on his toast as if he were talking about the weather.

I shook my head, but the idea stayed lodged in me. Miriam was a beautiful woman, with that figure kept by someone who takes the time to look after herself, big tits and a tight ass that showed in every pair of pants, and for months I’d been noticing how she looked at me sometimes. Not with obvious desire, or at least not with one she’d admit to herself. But there was something in that look that went beyond the sister-in-law who says hello at family gatherings.

The opportunity came on its own, as the things you’re waiting for without admitting it usually do. Miriam called me on a Wednesday to say she’d downloaded a stretching and Pilates app, and if I felt like doing a session together at her place one morning when Andrés was on duty. I told her that sounded perfect. And as I hung up, I thought maybe my son wasn’t as crazy as I had assumed.

***

I got to her house at ten in the morning. Miriam opened the door in very tight black leggings that disappeared between her ass cheeks and a sleeveless sports top that showed the line of her shoulders and the bulge of her tits without a bra. She invited me in and took me to the master bedroom so I could change. I put on the leggings I’d brought and went back to the living room, where she’d moved the sofa against the wall to make more space.

We started with the warm-up exercises. The app gave instructions in a neutral voice and we followed them, side by side, without talking much. A gray winter light came in through the window. I watched the way Miriam moved, the concentration with which she followed each posture, the way her leggings outlined exactly the cunt they promised, with the line of her vulva drawn beneath the fabric.

When we got to an exercise that required the partner’s support —her on her knees with her back straight, me holding her shoulders from behind to keep the posture— I let my hands slide a little lower than necessary. Just a little. Enough to brush her tits along the sides and see how she reacted.

She didn’t pull away.

In the next exercise she had to lean on me to keep her balance, and in a moment of feigned clumsiness I brought my hip against hers and left it there, in contact, while the app counted down the seconds. Miriam let out a nervous little laugh but didn’t move. On the contrary: she pressed her ass against my pubis and breathed deeper.

—Hey, are you trying to seduce me or are the exercises like this? —she asked, without turning her head to look at me.

—Do I need to make it more obvious? —I answered.

She stayed quiet for a moment. Then she kept going with the exercise as if nothing had been said, though I noticed her breathing had changed and her nipples were standing hard against her top.

***

It was during the hip stretch that things really changed. She was lying on her back with her knees bent and I was kneeling beside her, supposedly to help her maintain alignment. Instead, I put a hand on her waist and slowly slid it downward.

Miriam said nothing. She kept looking at the ceiling. But she lowered her hips toward me.

I stroked her belly with my open palm, unhurried, tracing slow circles. Then I moved my hand lower, over the leggings, and squeezed her cunt with my whole palm. The fabric was hot and a wet patch was already beginning to show in the center. I pressed two fingers right over her clit and heard a gasp slip out of her.

—Relax —I told her softly, still rubbing her over the fabric—. You’re soaking wet, slut.

—It’s just that I’ve never... —she began, and left the sentence unfinished when I slipped my hand inside the waistband and brushed the hair of her pubis.

I leaned down and kissed her mouth while my fingers went lower until they found the wet flesh of her cunt and parted her lips. It was a slow kiss, without urgency, the kind that doesn’t ask permission because it already has it. It took her three or four seconds to respond, and when she did, it was for real: she put a hand on my nape and pulled me closer, and opened her legs so I’d have room.

I slid a finger inside her. Miriam moaned into my mouth. She was so wet my finger went in all the way without resistance, and when I pulled it out and slid it back in with another one, her cunt sucked on my fingers like she’d been waiting months for that.

We stayed like that for a while, kissing on the living room floor while I fingered her slowly and the Pilates app kept counting in the background. At some point I realized neither of us was following the exercises anymore.

—Turn that off —I asked her.

She turned it off without hesitation, with a trembling hand.

***

Miriam sat up and faced me with her hair a little messed up, her lips reddened, and the dark stain between her legs already the size of a hand. She looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and vertigo I knew well: it was the same face anyone makes the first time they realize they want something they hadn’t considered before.

—I’ve never done this with a woman —she said.

—I know —I answered.

—How do you know?

—You can tell —I said, without further explanation—. But you’re going to like it. You’re about to see how a woman fucks you.

I led her to the cornered-off sofa. We sat together. I brushed the hair from her face with a slow gesture and kissed her neck, first softly, then with more pressure, until I heard her breathing turn uneven. I yanked her shirt off. Underneath, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She had generous tits with very pale skin and pink nipples, hard as stones, and I looked at them for a few seconds before leaning in.

When I ran my tongue over her nipple, she jolted and grabbed my shoulder. I bit it carefully, tugging with my teeth, then took it fully into my mouth and sucked until I saw her arch her back.

—My God —she murmured.

I took my time with her. No rushing. Both tits, one after the other, licking them, biting them, spitting on them so I could suck them again. Her neck, her collarbone, back to her mouth, where I shoved my tongue in deep while pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger. I wanted her to understand from the start that this was not something done in a hurry.

Then I was the one who took off my shirt. Miriam watched me with that same mix of shyness and desire, and stretched out a hand to touch my tits. She did it carefully, as if she were afraid of doing it wrong. I covered her hand with mine and showed her the rhythm, pressing her fingers against my nipple until she learned to pinch it firmly.

—Like that —I told her—. Harder. I’m not made of porcelain.

She learned fast. She bent down and sucked on one tit with a hunger I hadn’t expected, eyes closed and her free hand between her own legs, rubbing over her leggings.

***

I slowly pulled her leggings down, tugging each side, while she lifted her hips to help me. Underneath she wore tiny black panties with such a huge wet stain it almost covered the whole crotch. I pulled those down too, and when I opened her legs I saw my sister-in-law’s cunt for the first time: almost completely shaved, with a thin strip of dark hair over the pubis, swollen lips gleaming from how wet she was. Then I took mine off. The two of us completely naked in the living room, with the gray January light filtering through the half-closed blinds.

I knelt in front of her, and she was still sitting on the sofa with her knees together by pure reflex. I opened them gently, pushing the backs of her knees until she was spread wide open, her ass at the edge of the cushion and her cunt at my mouth’s level. Miriam let me. Her breathing was fast and her eyes were very wide, and she said nothing when I lowered my head and began.

I went slowly at first. The inside of her thighs, kissing them, biting them, my mouth rising little by little along the inner side until I reached where I wanted to be. I blew on her cunt before touching it with my tongue, and I felt her whole belly contract.

Then I started working with my tongue: first one long lick from bottom to top, gathering all her juice, tasting her. Then just the outside, not going in yet, learning how she responded, what made her tighten and what made her open. I parted her lips with two fingers and ran the tip of my tongue over her clit, very slowly, drawing circles. Miriam let out a short, rough moan that didn’t sound like her.

—Fuck —she said—. Fuck, fuck.

I pushed my tongue inside her, as far as I could, fucking her with it while I squeezed her ass cheeks with my hands and held her against my face. She was so wet my chin kept slipping. When I went back to her clit, this time sucking it with my lips and flicking it with the tip of my tongue, Miriam put a hand on my head. Not to guide me, just to have somewhere to hold on to. I heard her sigh, then hold back, then stop holding back.

—Don’t stop —she said very softly, almost to herself—. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

I didn’t stop. I slipped two fingers into her cunt and searched for the spot inside while I kept sucking her clit. I curved them upward and found the spongy patch; I started stroking it at exactly the right rhythm, without changing it, while my tongue kept working outside. I followed her signals —the rhythm of her breathing, the tension in her thighs, the small sounds escaping her without her being able to stop them— until I felt her tense all over and then release at once, with a hoarse cry that sent her free hand to her mouth to cover it. Her cunt clamped down on my fingers like a fist and soaked my palm. She stayed still for several seconds, with her hand still in my hair and her hips giving little jolts.

—I never thought it would be like this —she said when she caught her breath.

—How did you imagine it would be?

—I don’t know. Different. Less... —she searched for the word— less intense. Less dirty.

I laughed, licked my fingers in front of her so she could see, and sat beside her. She turned toward me with a new determination on her face.

—Now me —she said.

***

I lay back on the sofa and calmly told her what she could do. Miriam listened carefully, nodding now and then as if she were going to be tested afterward. I opened my own legs, one foot on the floor and the other on the backrest, offering her my cunt spread wide open so she wouldn’t have any doubts.

—Start by licking my clit —I told her—. Gently. And put a finger in me slowly.

She lowered her head and began. At first she was a little unsure, too careful where she didn’t need to be and not enough pressure where she did. I grabbed her hair and pressed her a little harder against me.

—Harder with your tongue. Suck it like it’s a nipple. That’s it. Now put in another finger.

She found the rhythm on her own, following what I indicated with little signs. She slid two fingers into me and started fucking me with them while she sucked my clit more eagerly. When I noticed she was getting bolder, I put a hand on her nape and guided her myself, moving her face against my cunt in the rhythm I needed. She didn’t resist; on the contrary, she moaned with her mouth full and sped up.

It took less time than I expected.

When I came, my fingers were tangled in her hair and I was trying not to squeeze too hard. I shoved her face hard against my cunt in those final seconds, grinding against her mouth until pleasure ran through me completely and I let out a long growl. Miriam lifted her head and looked at me with a smile I hadn’t seen before. Her chin was shining and there was a bit of pride in that smile.

—Did I do it right? —she asked.

—Very well —I told her—. You learn fast, slut.

***

We lay back together on the sofa for a while, her resting against me, neither of us speaking. The morning light had shifted a little southward. From the window, we could hear the distant sound of an engine.

—You know your son looks at me a lot when he comes to see you? —Miriam said suddenly, with a casual tone that didn’t match the silence before.

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh. If only you knew exactly how much more than looking. If only you knew the times he’s put you on your knees and emptied his load into your mouth.

—Young guys look at everyone —I said.

—Yeah —she replied, in a tone that didn’t quite convince me.

We changed the subject.

***

A little later I got up and went to the hall to look for something in the bag I’d left hanging on the coat rack. Miriam watched me from the sofa without asking where I was going, still naked, legs crossed and one hand absentmindedly over a tit. When I came back with what I’d gone looking for —a double silicone dildo, long and curved at both ends, which I’d bought that very morning almost without thinking about it, like someone who knows what they’re going to need— she frowned.

—What the fuck is that? —she asked, eyes wide.

—Something for both of us —I told her—. A cock on each side. You take one end, I take the other, and we fuck.

I explained how it worked, showing it to her, bending it slightly so she could see the flexibility. She listened with wide eyes and an expression somewhere between fascinated and skeptical. Then she asked:

—And does it hurt?

—Not if we go slowly —I answered—. And you’re so wet it’ll slide right in.

Miriam nodded with a seriousness that made me tender. She lay back on the rug and opened her legs. I knelt between them, spit on the tip of the dildo, and slowly pushed it in, twisting my wrist, letting her adjust centimeter by centimeter. She took a breath with each push and let it out when I stopped.

—My God, that’s huge —she gasped when half of it was inside.

—Take it. Almost there.

When she had the whole thing in her, I left it still for a moment. Then I started fucking her with it, holding the other end, going in and out slowly until I saw her arch and ask for more. Once she could take it without effort, I lay down too and positioned myself in front of her, scissors against scissors, and impaled myself on the other end. I was as wet as she was and took it in one go, until I felt the silicone hit deep inside me.

—Okay —I said, panting—. Move with me.

The first movement was clumsy, as always with something new. The two of us pushing at once, without coordination, hip against hip. By the second, we’d found our rhythm: I pushed, she pushed, and the dildo sank into both of us at the same time. By the third, Miriam closed her eyes and threw her head back with a sound she made no attempt to suppress.

—Jesus Christ —she said—. Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ. You’re fucking me. You’re really fucking me.

—Yeah, slut. And I still haven’t even started.

We kept going like that for a good while, grinding our cunts against the dildo between us, moaning every time our hips collided and the silicone slid all the way in. I kept the rhythm and she followed it, adding her own variations: at one point she sat up astride it and started riding her side with her eyes locked on mine, bouncing up and down with her tits jumping, while I moved my hips to fuck her from below. Then I climbed on top and rode her, bracing myself on her belly, until both cunts were pressed tight and no silicone was visible.

She finished first, with a hoarse cry and her hands digging her nails into my thighs, and I followed a few seconds later, coming over the dildo and over her, grinding against her pubis until the last contraction. We stayed motionless, still both of us impaled, catching our breath, until the silence in the living room went back to the way it always was. When we finally took it out, it came free with a wet sound that made us both laugh.

***

When we got ourselves together, it was almost two in the afternoon. Miriam made coffee and we sat in the kitchen, now dressed, with a somewhat forced normality that made both of us laugh a little without either of us saying why.

—I don’t know what to say —she said, stirring her coffee.

—You don’t have to say anything —I replied.

She nodded and stared at her cup for a moment. Then she looked up.

—Can we do this again?

—Yes —I told her—, but this stays between us.

—Of course —she answered, with a speed that told me she’d already thought of that before asking.

I left shortly after. As I passed through the hall I stopped for a second and looked toward the living room, with the sofa back in place, everything in order, nothing out of place. No one would have noticed.

In the car, before starting the engine, I thought about Marcos and what he’d said to me over breakfast. The circle closes. I smiled to myself, staring ahead.

I wasn’t going to tell him anything yet. But I would tell him.