What My Mother-in-Law Wanted No One to Know

On Sunday morning, while Lucía slept beside me, the phone vibrated twice on the nightstand.

The first message said: I really enjoyed yesterday.

The second: Do you have plans on Tuesday?

It was eight-thirty. Sofía had been awake for a while; you could tell from the precision of the messages. My girlfriend still had her eyes closed, breathing slowly, oblivious to everything.

I replied before I even thought about it: None.

The third message came right away: Then let’s meet. The shopping center in the north district, at twelve. Roberto works all day and Lucía is going to the coast with her friends.

I put the phone face down and lay there staring at the ceiling for a long while, with my cock already half hard thinking about what was waiting for me on Tuesday.

***

I got there ten minutes early. I sat down on a bench by the entrance and watched her coming from the parking lot.

Sofía was fifty-two and walked like she’d earned every single one of those years. That morning she was wearing cherry-red stiletto heels clicking on the stone floor, shiny black leggings that clung to every curve of her hips, and a white blouse in a thin fabric that hinted at her dark, erect nipples because she had nothing underneath. Her dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail.

Every man between the parking lot and the entrance looked at her. She didn’t look at a single one of them.

—You’ve been waiting for me a while —she said when she arrived, without greeting me.

—And I’d do it again —I replied.

She laughed, took me by the arm, and we went in.

***

We walked through the mall with no particular destination. Sofía stopped at shop windows, greeted a saleswoman by name, took her time. Her hand on my forearm never really loosened, and twice I felt her deliberately brush against me when we passed other men.

—You’re turning on everyone you pass —I told her.

—Only you —she said, and it was a lie and we both knew it.

We sat down in a small café, at a table in the back. We ordered coffee. Sofía pressed her leg against mine from the very beginning. We talked about unimportant things —the weather, how Lucía had left early, how Roberto always complained about Tuesday shifts— while her foot slowly worked its way up my calf and ended up pressing the bulge showing in my trousers.

—I feel like making the morning complicated —she said at last.

—How complicated?

She didn’t answer directly. She made a subtle gesture toward the counter, where three men were standing and drinking coffee.

—The one in the navy sweater has been looking at me since we came in —she said, without turning her head.

I looked at him. Forty-something, solid build, wedding ring on his left ring finger.

—And?

—I want him to see us. I want him to see you eat me out and see me suck your cock. I want him to get hard without being able to touch it.

***

The new wing of the shopping center was under construction. An orange plastic barrier cut off the passage at the end of one of the corridors. Sofía slid it aside a few feet with such natural ease it suggested she’d planned it ahead of time, and we slipped through without anyone paying attention.

Inside there was enough space: a wide corridor with skylights in the ceiling, materials stacked against the walls, silence. The light came in filtered and horizontal.

—And the guy in the sweater? —I asked.

—I told him where we were. If he wants to come, he’ll come.

I kissed her before she finished the sentence. Sofía kissed with a concentration that threw me off every time: no hurry, no theatrical urgency, just sustained pressure building on its own. She pushed her tongue all the way in and unbuckled my belt without breaking the kiss. Her hand slid inside my boxer shorts and grabbed my already rock-hard cock, squeezing it with a firmness that pulled a gasp out of me.

—It’s ready —she murmured against my mouth—. Very ready.

Her blouse fell to the floor. She had nothing underneath, just as I’d suspected. Her body belied her age: firm breasts with nipples dark and hard as stones, a defined waist, skin that smelled of lotion and something warmer. I knelt down to suck one of her tits and she dug her nails into my nape, forcing me to bite down harder.

I pulled her leggings down to her ankles.

—No underwear either —I said, seeing her shaved pussy already shiny between her thighs.

—Nope —she confirmed, with a smile that wasn’t innocent—. I knew how this morning was going to end.

I knelt. She braced her back against the drywall and spread her legs as far as the leggings tangled around her ankles would allow. I put one hand on the inside of each thigh, opened her a little more, and ran my tongue over her cunt from bottom to top, slowly, tasting how she shuddered. I repeated the gesture three times before focusing on her clit, swollen and glossy, sucking it with tight lips while I slid in two fingers and curled them, searching for the exact spot.

Sofía put a hand on my head, not pressing, just guiding. I started slowly, learning the rhythm that worked for her, paying attention to every change in her breathing. When I found the exact angle —my fingers sunk to the knuckles, my tongue working in tight circles over her clit— the hand on my head squeezed gently.

—There —she said, in a low voice—. Right there, don’t move from there.

I kept going. Two minutes, three, five. Sofía didn’t moan loudly: she made a continuous, low sound that was harder to ignore than any scream. I felt her thighs trembling, her cunt clenching around my fingers, the thick flow starting to spill down my wrist.

—Someone’s there —she whispered all of a sudden.

I looked up without stopping. The man in the navy sweater was standing six or seven meters away, in the dim corridor, perfectly still. I didn’t know whether he’d come in out of curiosity or because she’d given him clear instructions, but he was there, watching, and he already had his hand over the bulge in his pants.

Sofía looked straight at him.

—Come a little closer —she said—. Let me see your face.

The man didn’t answer, but he took two steps toward us.

I kept going, my tongue buried between her lips and my fingers going in and out with a wet sound that echoed through the empty corridor. Sofía stayed pressed against the wall, her leggings bunched around her ankles, watching the stranger while I ate her out. She had no intention of including him. She needed him there as a witness, nothing more.

—You’re watching me properly, right? —she told the man, her voice rough—. Look at my face when I come. Don’t forget it.

—I’m coming —she announced, in that same low voice from before—. I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop.

And she did. Without a fuss or any drama. A long, sustained shudder, my fingers tightening on my nape, her head tipping slightly back, a hot gush soaking my chin and running down my neck. I kept licking slowly until she herself pushed me away, unable to take any more contact on her swollen clit.

***

When I stood up, my mouth and chin shining with her, the man was still in the same place. Sofía looked at him with a calm that was almost cordial.

—Thanks for coming —she said, as if it had been a work meeting.

The man opened his mouth. I think he wanted to ask for something.

—No —Sofía said before he could speak—. But you can stay and watch a little longer. Take it out if you want, but don’t come any closer.

The guy unzipped his trousers without hesitation and pulled out a thick cock already slick with precum. He started jerking off slowly, never taking his eyes off us.

Sofía knelt in front of me with that serenity of hers that made everything slower and more intense at the same time. She pulled my pants and underwear down to my knees and looked at my cock as if she were calculating something. She took me in her hand first, gauging me, working her fist up and down firmly, squeezing the base and twisting her wrist when she reached the glans. Then she took me into her mouth in one shot, all the way in, until I felt the edge of her throat.

I looked at the man. He was jerking faster now, his face wrecked with the look of someone who hadn’t expected things to go that far. He was doing what he could from where he stood, not moving, not daring to ask for more. There was something in that distance that felt strangely satisfying to me.

Sofía knew what she was doing. She changed the rhythm when she wanted, stopped, shifted angle. She took me out of her mouth to run her tongue over my balls, one and then the other, sucking them with her lips, and then she swallowed me whole again. A thread of saliva hung from her chin and dripped onto her tits. At some point she looked up at me from below, my cock clenched between her lips and her cheeks hollowed, and held my gaze while she took me to the back of her throat, and that was almost worse than everything else.

—Not here —I said when I was close to the edge, my balls already drawn up and a tremor running through my thighs—. Later. I want to finish inside you.

She stood up, wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and licked the tip of my cock one last time, like someone sealing a promise. She got dressed with the same calm she’d arrived with. She told the man, without cruelty or irony, while he came against the wall in silence:

—I hope you enjoyed it. Have a good Tuesday.

And we walked back out into the corridor as if nothing had happened on the other side of the barrier.

***

In the car, on the way to her house, Sofía waited for me to start the engine and then put a hand on my thigh.

—Drive —she said.

With her other hand she unbuttoned my pants, pulled my cock out, and started jerking me with the palm of her hand soaked in saliva. Every two or three traffic lights she’d lean down and take me into her mouth, not caring if the driver in the next lane could turn his head and see her. When she felt I was close, she’d ease off, squeeze the base with two fingers, cut the flow, and start again. The fifteen-minute ride was a millimeter-perfect torture: I arrived on her street with my cock purple, dripping precum over her hand, and a need to come that blurred my vision.

We got there. She went in first, checked that no one was around, and called me from the landing. The house smelled of cleaner and the flowers she always had in the foyer. We went straight upstairs.

The master bedroom was large and tidy, with a double bed that looked too proper for what was about to happen on it. Sofía left her heels by the door and started unbuttoning her blouse without hurrying.

We undressed slowly this time. No construction site, no witnesses, no urgency. I laid her on the bed and took the time I hadn’t had before: I traced her body with my tongue without rushing, memorizing what worked, what she liked, what changed her breathing. I sucked her nipples until they were hard between my teeth, licked her navel, bit the inside of her thighs until I left a red mark, and ate her cunt again, this time without haste, without an audience, my mouth pressed to her for long minutes until she came again, pressing my face against her flesh and gasping my name.

Sofía guided without asking with words: a subtle movement of her hips, the pressure of a hand, a change in sound. I followed those signals. I stretched out over her and rubbed the tip of my cock up and down over her cunt lips, soaking myself, searching for the entrance without giving it to her yet.

—Put it in already —she said at last, teeth clenched—. Stop playing.

When I entered her it was slow and deep, all the way in, until my balls hit her ass. She arched slightly and I felt her cunt closing around my cock like a hot fist.

—Like that —she said—. Just like that. Fuck me slowly.

We started with a long, measured rhythm, almost ceremonial, pulling out to the tip and pushing back in all the way, making her gasp against my ear. Then she turned me over; she wanted to be on top. She mounted me with precision, took me in one long downward slide, found the angle that worked for her, and moved the way she wanted, using my body as she needed. I put my hands on her waist without trying to direct anything, and then moved up to grab her tits, squeezing them while she rode me, pinching her nipples every time she sped up.

Her eyes were half open and fixed on some point above my head. She was focused, completely in it, her mouth open and her cunt swallowing me whole every time she came down, and that was the hottest thing of all.

—I want you to do what you still haven’t done to me —she said, between one movement and the next—. I want you to fuck me in the ass.

She knew it. She’d been waiting for it ever since we left the mall.

I put her on all fours, ass up and face down into the pillow. I ran my tongue slowly over where I was going to enter, sinking it in, letting her body get used to the idea. I licked and licked, moving the tip in circles, making sure it was well lubricated, while with two fingers I went back to playing with her cunt so nothing would fade. Then I started with one finger, very slowly, with no rush at all, sinking it to the knuckle and pulling it out, until a second one went in. Sofía clenched and relaxed at will, she knew how to do it.

—Easy, please —she asked.

Easy. I spat on my cock, rubbed it against the open little ring, and pushed the tip in very slowly. Sofía made that sound that’s halfway between pain and pleasure, the one that only comes when the two are mixed in just the right way. I paused for a moment with the tip barely inside, feeling how her sphincter tightened and pulsed around me.

—Keep going —she said—. Put it all the way in.

I kept going. Centimeter by centimeter, stopping every time I felt resistance, waiting for her to loosen before moving on. When at last I was buried in her ass, all the way in, my balls brushing her cunt, we both stayed still for a second, breathing. Then the rhythm started to build on its own, without me forcing it. Sofía started moving toward me, setting the pace, pushing her ass against my groin.

—More —she asked—. Harder. Fuck me in the ass for real.

More. My hands on her hips, her dark ponytail tangled between my fingers, pulling her so her back arched. Her breathing was the only measure of speed and depth. I slammed into her harder, slapped her ass with an open palm that echoed through the room, and she answered with a guttural moan coming from deep inside. I slipped my other hand underneath and rubbed her clit while I kept fucking her ass, and I felt her whole body tense up all at once.

—Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

I didn’t stop. Sofía buried her face in the pillow and what came out of her wasn’t a moan but something deeper, more physical, more real. I felt her whole body tightening in successive waves, no pause between one and the next, her ass clenching around my cock in spasms.

—I’m coming. I’m coming.

And she came, with a jolt that ran from head to toe and soaked the white linen sheets with a hot stream that ran down the inside of her thighs.

I waited for it to pass, without pulling out, feeling everything throbbing from the inside. Then I kept going, slower at first and then brutal, holding onto her ponytail and her hip, to the limit, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out just in time to wrench my cock free and come over her back in three or four thick spurts that reached her nape and slid down her spine, mixing with the sweat.

The silence that followed was the kind that doesn’t need filling.

Sofía turned over, not caring that semen stained the sheets, and stretched out on the bed with half-closed eyes and her hair completely mussed.

—That was the best morning I’ve had in a long time —she said.

I was still trying to catch my breath.

***

I got up to get water in the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Sofía was still in the same position, but something in the air of the room had changed.

—I think I heard the downstairs door —she said, with a calm that didn’t fit the situation.

A second later I heard footsteps on the stairs. Fast, determined, unmistakable.

Lucía threw the bedroom door open. She stopped in the doorway, looking at the rumpled bed, looking at me naked with my cock still shining, looking at her mother with semen drying on her back.

No one said anything for a second that lasted too long.

—Lucía —Sofía began.

—No —my girlfriend cut her off, in a completely flat voice, no shouting, no crying—. Don’t say anything yet.

She looked at me. Then she looked at her mother. Then at me again.

She turned around and went down the stairs. The front door sounded as it closed, but not violently. Just a dry, final click.

That was almost worse than a slam.

Sofía and I were left alone with the silence, the tangled sheets, and the whole afternoon ahead of us, not knowing what to do with it.