My godfather appeared at the door at midnight

That night I’d stayed home alone on purpose. My mother had gone out with her friends and wouldn’t be back until the early hours, so I switched off the living room lights and got into bed with a glass of wine and my head full of thoughts I’d been trying to silence for weeks.

I was thirty-one and had far too much free time. My last boyfriend had moved to another city and ever since then I’d been sleeping alone, restless, waking up at odd hours with my cunt wet and nobody beside me. That night was one of those nights. I took off my robe, stayed in a thin T-shirt that barely covered my tits, and let my hand slide slowly down between my legs, slipping over the wetness that was already waiting there, while I thought about things I would never confess out loud.

The wine had loosened me up inside. I closed my eyes and let my imagination run wild, searching for a face, a voice, hands that knew what they were doing. My fingers began tracing slow circles over my clit, pressing harder every time I pictured a thick cock splitting me open in one thrust. I didn’t want a nervous guy my age. I wanted someone who would take control, who could read my body without me having to explain a thing, who would fuck me like I belonged to him. That was the fantasy I was even ashamed to think about, and that night I had it firmly in my grip, two fingers buried in my cunt and my thumb dancing above, when everything changed.

And then the doorbell rang.

I jolted. Who the hell was calling at that hour? I sat up, heart racing, pulled on some shorts, and walked barefoot to the entrance. I looked through the peephole and froze.

It was Ramón. My godfather.

I hadn’t seen him in years. When I was little, he used to come over for my birthday, always with an expensive gift and a smile my mother found charming. Then he drifted away, trips, business, life. And now there he was, at midnight, in a dark coat with his silver hair slicked back.

I opened the door.

“Hi, Marina,” he said, and his voice was deeper than I remembered. “I know it’s late. I needed to see you.”

Ramón was fifty-eight and wore it like an elegant threat. He was no longer the broad-shouldered man in the old photos, but he still carried himself with that hard, dry confidence, broad shoulders, a gaze that asked permission from no one. He hugged me, and his hands slid down my back with a slowness that had nothing paternal about it, until they rested for a moment on the curve of my ass, pressing me against him just enough for me to feel the hard bulge of his cock against my belly.

“Godfather,” I said, pulling back a little, blushing. “Come in, please.”

He came in unhurriedly, looking around, then turned back to me. His eyes traveled over my bare legs, the thin T-shirt where my hard nipples showed through, and he made no effort to hide it.

“You look flustered,” he said. “Did I interrupt something?”

He knows. He knows exactly what I was doing. He knows my fingers smell like cunt.

“No, nothing important,” I lied. “Mom isn’t here. She went out with her friends.”

“I know,” he replied, and something in the way he said it raised goosebumps on my skin. “I came to see you.”

I didn’t know what to say. He left his coat over the back of a chair, came closer, and took my waist with one hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I should have stepped back. I didn’t.

“You were always my favorite,” he murmured, his mouth near my ear. “And I stopped coming because you started looking at me the way you’re looking at me now. Because one night I saw you come out of the shower with a towel in your hand and I knew that if I ever came back to this house, I’d fuck you against the wall before you even said hello.”

My breath caught. I felt a hot pull between my legs, that same tingling that had driven me to bed a little while ago, only now multiplied, with my cunt already soaking the fabric of my shorts. His hand slid higher, fingers brushing the skin under my T-shirt, until he found a naked breast. He pinched my nipple without warning, with the calm of someone who knows he can, and I lifted my face almost without realizing it.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered, though I didn’t even believe myself.

“No,” he said. “That’s why you’re going to enjoy it twice as much.”

And he kissed me.

It was a deep kiss, in full command, nothing like the nervous clumsiness of men my own age. His tongue slid into my mouth with deliberate calm, exploring, measuring me, and I melted against his chest. My hands found the firmness of his torso under his shirt and stayed there, clutching, while he kissed me as if he had all night to do it. His other hand slid down my back, went into my shorts, cupped one ass cheek and squeezed, a curious finger slipping along my slit to brush my cunt, testing my reaction. I didn’t pull away. On the contrary, I pushed my hips against his so he could feel how wet I was.

When he broke the kiss, I was breathing in short gasps.

“Oh, godfather…” I managed to say.

“Quiet,” he ordered softly, and took me by the hand to the living room sofa.

***

He sat me on the edge and knelt in front of me with an elegance that completely undid me. His hands traveled up my thighs, slowly, opening my legs centimeter by centimeter, and I let my head fall back. He tugged at my shorts and I lifted my hips to help him. The shorts came off with my panties still stuck to them, and I was left open before him, my shaved cunt shining with wetness under the dim light of the lamp in the corner. There was no rush at any point. That was what drove me insane: the patience.

“Look at you,” he said, voice hoarse, parting my cunt lips with two fingers to look inside me. “So wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re dripping, Marina. Your hole’s begging for it.”

“Please,” I begged, surprised by how desperate my own voice sounded.

He lowered his head between my legs and his mouth found the exact center of my pleasure. It wasn’t rough. It was slow, hungry, a tongue that knew where to press and where to ease off, playing with me as if he’d been imagining it for years. He started by licking me all over, bottom to top, one long, greedy stroke that tore a sharp moan from me. Then he focused on my clit, wrapping it in his lips and sucking gently, while the gray mustache rasped against my most sensitive flesh. I clutched the edge of the sofa and started trembling. Every time I felt myself getting close, he slowed down and left me dangling on the edge, panting, begging.

“Godfather, don’t stop,” I moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You’re going to come when I say,” he replied, lifting his gaze for a second, his chin shiny with my juices. “Not before. Learn to wait.”

And he went back down. This time he didn’t stop. His tongue worked mercilessly, drawing tight circles over my clit, while two fingers slid inside me, curling, finding a spot that made my whole back arch. He moved them with a steady rhythm, in and up, fucking me slowly with his hand while he sucked my clit faster and faster. I felt the orgasm rising from my legs, an electric shiver I couldn’t hold back. I exploded with a scream that was probably heard all down the street, my body jerking in waves, my legs closing around his head, my cunt milking his fingers with violent spasms. He didn’t let up until I went limp, wrecked, breathing like I’d run miles, a thin clear trail dripping down the inside of my thigh.

“Good girl,” he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now suck them.”

He put the two fingers that had just been inside me into my mouth and I sucked them without thinking, tasting myself, my eyes locked on his. I looked up at him, still shaking, and understood that I didn’t want it to end there. I wanted more. I wanted that cock all the way inside me. I wanted everything this man was willing to give me. I sat up a little, reached for him, and stroked him over his pants. He was hard as a rock, long and thick, and feeling him made a sigh of pure anticipation slip out of me. I fumbled with the zipper, pulled out his cock, and stared at it for a second: thick, veined, the head purple and gleaming with a bead of liquid already beginning to appear.

“Slowly,” he warned, catching my wrist with a crooked smile when I tried to shove it into my mouth at once. “I’m in charge of this. Stick out your tongue.”

I obeyed. I stuck out my tongue and he laid his cock on it, rubbing it over my lips and cheek, marking me with his wetness. Then he grabbed the back of my neck and pushed my head forward until he buried his whole cock in my mouth. I felt the head hit the back of my throat and gagged, but he didn’t let go. He held me there for a few seconds, my eyes filling with tears, and then he started moving, fucking my mouth at his own pace, thrusting in and out with measured strokes while I tried to breathe through my nose. Saliva ran down my chin, pooled on my tits, and he smiled down at me, a mess.

“That’s it, beautiful, that’s it. With that pretty mouth God gave you to sin.”

He pulled his cock out when I was already seeing stars and looked at me for a moment, assessing, his cock throbbing in his hand.

***

He turned me around without asking. His hands positioned me on my knees on the sofa, chest against the backrest, hips lifted toward him and my ass high in the air. I heard the sound of his belt finishing its drop, the rustle of fabric falling to the floor, and then I felt the heat of his body pressing against mine. He rubbed his cock between my butt cheeks, sliding it along my slit, then over the lips of my cunt without quite entering me, until a whine of pure frustration escaped me.

“Is this what you wanted when you opened the door dressed like that?” he asked, running a hand over my back until he got a firm grip on my hair, not hurting me. “For your godfather to split you in two on your mother’s sofa?”

“Yes,” I confessed. “Yes, godfather. Put it in already, please.”

“Ask properly.”

“Fuck me,” I gasped, pushing my ass back toward him. “Fuck me with that cock, godfather, I’m begging you.”

He drove into me in one single thrust, firm and complete, all the way to the hilt, and I screamed into the cushion. I’d been alone for weeks and suddenly I was full of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. He stayed still for a second, letting me get used to the thickness, and then withdrew almost completely before slamming back in with a hard stroke that shook my whole body. He started moving with a measured, deep rhythm, every thrust pulling a new moan from me. My tits swayed under my T-shirt with each impact of his hips, and the sound of our bodies colliding—the wet slap of cunt swallowing cock, the dull thud of his balls against my clit—filled the dim living room.

“Harder,” I begged, pushing back to meet him. “Please, harder.”

He gave me what I asked for. He increased the pace, one hand gripping my hip and the other still in my hair, pinning me against the back of the sofa with a force that left me breathless. He arched my back by tugging my hair until my head hung in the air, the nape of my neck resting on his shoulder, and he fucked me from behind like he meant to go through me. His other hand wrapped around me and found my clit, rubbing it in tight circles while he kept driving into me.

“What a delicious cunt,” he growled in my ear. “You’re squeezing my cock to death, slut. Do you like your godfather’s cock? Answer.”

“I love it,” I whimpered. “I love your cock, godfather, never stop.”

I felt a second orgasm building, different from the first, deeper, growing from the center of my belly, driven by every thrust and by those fingers that gave me no mercy on my clit.

“Don’t hold back,” I gasped. “I’m about to come again.”

“Come with me,” he ordered, and his voice broke for the first time all night. “Squeeze this cock, come on it.”

I came in a long shudder that ran from head to toe, tightening around him in rhythmic contractions, and I felt him tremble behind me, his fingers digging into my skin as he emptied himself with a deep groan. I felt the hot spurts filling me inside, one after another, while he kept fucking me slowly, squeezing the last drop out inside my cunt. We stayed like that for a moment, locked together, breathing hard, before he withdrew slowly with a wet sound and a thick mix of cum and juices began to slide down the inside of my thigh. He helped me turn around and looked at me with a owner’s satisfaction.

***

I collapsed back onto the sofa, wrecked and satisfied, my legs still open and his cum slowly leaking out of me, watching him as he straightened his clothes with astonishing calm. No man my age had ever made me feel like that: so taken, so fucked, so seen. Ramón leaned down, kissed my forehead softly, and gave my thigh a pat right next to my soaked cunt.

“You look beautiful when you’ve just been bad,” he said, with a half smile. “And all full of me.”

“Thank you, godfather,” I replied, laughing, still dazed. “I never imagined I’d feel something like this.”

I was about to say more when I heard the key in the lock. My blood ran cold. The door opened and my mother appeared in the doorway, keys still in her hand, looking at the two of us: me, disheveled on the sofa with my legs open and a dark stain spreading on the cushion, Ramón standing beside me with his shirt half open and the wet bulge marked in his pants.

“Ramón?” she said slowly, setting her bag down on the coat rack without taking her eyes off us. “What’s going on here?”

He didn’t flinch. He turned to her with the same calm he’d shown all night, and I understood, looking at my mother’s face, that this visit hadn’t been for me alone. That there were stories in this house older than I was.

“Carmen,” he said, serene. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

My mother closed the door behind her without a sound, came over slowly, and sat down in the armchair opposite. She didn’t scream. She didn’t leave. She only looked at the two of us, long and silently, her gaze dropping for a second to my open, glistening cunt before rising again to my eyes, and I knew that night was only just beginning.