I Dreamed About My Girlfriend’s Sister and Woke Up Broken

I dreamed about her again, but this time it was different, and I don’t want it to slip from my memory. I need to write it down before the day erases everything, before routine turns it into just another night. Because it wasn’t an ordinary dream. It was an entire life compressed into an hour.

That afternoon I’d come home from work with my head numb. There was a gathering at the house my partner hadn’t told me about, her cousins, her mother’s friends, a couple of kids running between the chairs. I greeted everyone with a tight smile and slipped out into the patio before anyone could ask me about work. The sun was dropping behind the rooftops and the air was starting to smell like barbecue smoke from another house.

I went out for a walk. I lit a cigarette on the corner and kept going without a destination, letting my legs decide. I didn’t want to think about anything, not the people waiting for me inside, not Monday, not that sticky feeling I’d had for weeks, that feeling of living someone else’s life.

I ended up in the neighborhood square, where they’d set up a street fair. Yellow lanterns hanging between the plane trees, booths selling churros and a ring toss, cumbia music coming from a battered loudspeaker. It was full of strangers, just like my house, but at least here I could be invisible. I walked between the stalls, letting the crowd push me along, and then, between two booths, I saw them.

Camila and her sister, Mariana, playing ring toss over bottles. Camila was laughing with that loud, full-bodied laugh of hers. Mariana was throwing with her tongue caught between her teeth. Mariana, Camila’s younger sister, the one I barely looked at at family dinners, the one I always greeted with two quick kisses and a “how’s it going” fit for the office.

But that night, under the yellow lanterns, Mariana had something I had never seen in her before. A glow, I don’t know how else to call it. Her light brown hair was pulled into a high, loose ponytail, with strands escaping at the nape of her neck. Her tan skin reflected the light like gold, and her lips, unpainted, curved into a smile that seemed to hold itself up, effortless.

I froze, hidden behind a cotton candy stand. I watched her for minutes, not wanting to blink. I wanted to burn that image into my memory so I’d never lose it: her laughing, her shoulders loose, her slender body under a purple sweater, her hands aiming the ring as if nothing else in the world existed.

And then it hit me. Like a punch straight to the chest. What I was feeling was impossible. She was my partner’s sister. The woman I’d seen in family photos for years, the one who had opened the door for me a hundred times without really looking at me. I couldn’t leave Camila for Mariana. I couldn’t even look at her like this. And above all, she had never given me the slightest sign. To Mariana, I was her older sister’s boyfriend, practically a piece of furniture.

The glow went out when I forced myself to remember all that. The fair lights lost their color and the children’s shouts receded into the distance. I walked toward them with my hands in my pockets.

“We thought you’d gotten lost,” Camila said, giving me a quick kiss.

“Too many people,” I replied. “It was hard to get through.”

The three of us started walking in a line. Mariana drifted a couple of steps and hooked her arm through mine, with that adopted-sister confidence of hers. She showed me the prize she’d won: a teddy bear plush with a ridiculous hat.

“Look what I got, brother-in-law,” she said, laughing.

I nodded without looking at her, because I knew that if I looked, I’d feel it again. But in the end I turned my head. And there were her eyes.

Clear, large, with that darker ring around the iris. They locked onto mine without warning. And suddenly the noise shut off. Camila, the children, the music, the booths, the light. Everything vanished. We were left standing in the middle of the square, inside a bubble where the rest of the world had decided not to exist.

I looked at her without saying anything. I felt the emptiness in my chest, that hollow I’d had for weeks, months, maybe years. And I knew, with the strange lucidity dreams have, that only she could fill it. That I had been searching for her all my life without knowing it.

This is wrong. This can’t be happening.

But it was.

I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand. She didn’t pull away. I slid my other arm around her waist and drew her closer, just enough to feel her breath hitch against my chin. She was shorter than me. She had to tilt her face up to look at me, and I lowered mine until our foreheads touched.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered, not even knowing who I was saying it to.

“I know,” she answered. “But I’ve spent years wanting you to fuck me.”

And we kissed.

***

The kiss wasn’t clean or elegant. It was the kiss of two people who’d spent years holding something back without knowing they were holding it back. I bit her lip and she sighed into my mouth, pushing her tongue all the way in, searching for me, grazing my teeth, sucking on me like she wanted to swallow me whole. I felt my feet lifting off the ground and the fair lights melting away as if someone had switched off every lantern at once. We were no longer in the square. We were nowhere.

When I felt something under me again, it was a bed. A bed with white sheets, in a room without clear walls, with a golden light coming from somewhere I couldn’t see. Mariana was lying on my chest, her ear pressed to my heart, her hair spread over my T-shirt. I stroked the nape of her neck slowly, as if I were afraid of waking her.

I kissed her forehead, smelled her hair. It smelled like cheap shampoo and fairground smoke. I thought I would remember that smell forever.

She started kissing my neck. Small kisses, unhurried, working up toward my jaw. By the time she reached my mouth, my cock was already hard, pressing against my pants, outlined against her thigh. She noticed and smiled without pulling away.

“I can feel it,” she murmured. “You’re going to put it all the way in, right, brother-in-law?”

The word ran through me like a jolt. I cupped her cheeks with both hands and kissed her back like I was about to run out of air the next second, while she moved her hips against my bulge, rubbing her cunt through the fabric.

I slid my hand down her back, slowly, feeling every vertebra under the purple sweater. I reached the waistband of her pants. She lifted one leg and hooked it over my hip, opening herself, inviting me. I slipped my hand under the fabric, caressed her thighs, her ass, her goosefleshed skin. I yanked her panties down halfway over her ass and slid two fingers between her folds, pushing down. She was soaked. My fingers sank without resistance into a hot, slippery cunt that closed around them as if it had been waiting for me for hours.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I told her in her ear.

“That’s what you’ve been doing to me for years,” she answered, and bit my earlobe.

I reached up under the sweater with my free hand. Her tits were small, warm, her nipples hard as stones. I pinched one between thumb and forefinger and she let out a deep, long moan, rocking her hips against my fingers, fucking my hand herself.

She sat up without breaking the kiss and pulled the sweater off over her head. She was naked from the waist up, sitting on me, her ribs showing a little, her hair falling over her shoulders, her tits pointing at my face. She took my hand and placed it on one breast, pressing it against her nipple. When I tried to sit up to take it into my mouth, she gently pushed me back down, and leaned in herself until her tits brushed my lips.

I sucked them slowly, one and then the other, licking her nipples with an open mouth, biting just enough to make her moan louder. At first she moaned softly, her forehead pressed to the headboard, secrets spilling from her mouth one after another, and then she started talking dirty, her voice broken.

“Suck my tits… like that… harder… oh, brother-in-law, if you only knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you…”

I got even harder hearing that. I slid my hand down her stomach, put it between her legs again and rubbed her clit with my thumb while she straddled me. She started moving, riding my hand, leaning back, offering me her whole body.

***

We took off what little clothing we had left like people taking off a burden. Every garment that fell to the floor was a moral argument no longer weighing us down. There was no guilt, no Camila, no fair, no sisters, no neighborhood. There was only desire, and a desire that would not wait.

When I saw her completely naked, I ran out of air. Her shaved pussy, shiny, with swollen lips parted, a thread of moisture running down the inside of her thigh. She lay on her back with her legs spread wide, shameless, staring at me as she slid two fingers through her slit, opening herself for me.

“Come here,” she said. “Eat me out. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for that mouth of yours down there.”

I kissed her ankles, her calves, her knees, her slender thighs bristling with goosebumps. I moved up slowly, tasting her, biting the inside of her thighs until I left red marks. When I got to her cunt, I ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, slowly, dragging that salty woman-scent across my tongue, and stopped at her clit to suck it between my lips like it was a ripe piece of fruit.

My tongue tore a scream from her that caught me off guard, not a low moan, a long scream that bounced off the walls of that room without walls. She grabbed the sheets with both hands and started moving her hips to the rhythm of my mouth, opening, closing, keeping time with her thighs over my ears. I slipped two fingers into her while I kept sucking her clit, and she arched her whole back until she lifted off the bed.

“Like that, like that, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop…”

I fucked her cunt with my fingers, curling them upward, searching for that spot inside while I devoured her clit. She clutched my hair with both hands and pressed my face against her, grinding without shame, smearing my chin and lips. She came with her mouth open, soundlessly at first, her whole body trembling, and then with a long howl from deep in her belly. Her cunt tightened around my fingers, throbbing, almost pushing them out.

I worked my way back up her flat stomach with small kisses, leaving a trail of her own wetness on her skin, over her navel, back to her tits again. To her neck. To her mouth. I kissed her full of herself, and she licked her own taste off my lips without disgust, moaning into my mouth. I whispered something in her ear that I can’t remember, some filthy thing, and she gave a low laugh without opening her eyes.

“Now put it in me,” she said. “All the way in. I want you to drive it into me like you drive it into my sister.”

When I went inside her, I did it while looking at her. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, not wanting to miss a thing, watching my cock disappear into her. She was so tight and so wet I had to clench my teeth to keep from coming on the second thrust. She opened her eyes and held my gaze the whole time. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in them. When I had her all the way inside, I stayed still, feeling her cunt settle around my shaft, throbbing against me.

“Move,” she panted. “Fuck me already.”

I started moving slowly, in a rhythm that seemed set by something else, not by me, not by her, by something beyond the two of us. I came almost all the way out and drove back in hard, drawing a moan from her each time, watching her tits bounce with every thrust. She dug her nails into my back, lifted her legs and crossed them behind my lower back, forcing me deeper.

I felt the heat pouring out through our skin, mixing us together. I felt us stop being two people and become one idea. I had the perfect woman beneath me, impaled on my cock, and for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, or be any other man.

I put her on all fours and grabbed her ponytail while I took her from behind, watching her perky ass slam against my groin with every thrust. I slapped her ass and she moaned, begging for more. I slapped her again, harder, and saw the red mark settle into her tan skin. She slipped one hand underneath herself and started rubbing her clit while I pounded her, screaming louder and louder, not caring about anything.

“Harder, brother-in-law, break me, give me everything…”

We found each other in a dozen ways. Me on top, her on top, both of us on our sides, with one of her legs over my shoulder. She sat astride me and let herself drop rhythmically, bracing herself with her hands on my chest, riding me slowly at first and then at a desperate pace, mouth open and eyes half-lidded, watching my cock slide in and out of her. She took my hand into her mouth and sucked two fingers, then took them to her ass, pushing them in herself so I could penetrate her from both ends at once.

I felt myself about to come. She sensed it too, because she let herself fall faster, squeezing her cunt around me as if she wanted to milk me.

“Come inside,” she panted. “Inside, inside, fill me up…”

I came with a long growl, driving in to the hilt, feeling my cum burst out in hot spurts inside her. She came at the same time, trembling on top of me, and collapsed on my chest with ragged breathing, while semen started running out of her onto her thighs.

But at some point, while she was still seated on my hips, my cock still inside her, letting me kiss her neck, I stopped hearing her.

***

At first it was only a distant sound. As if someone were slowly turning my volume down. Her moans became an echo, her breathing thinned out, and in the end all I was left with was one word of hers, repeated and getting weaker each time. “My love.” “My love.” “My love.” And then nothing.

The room vanished. The bed vanished. Mariana vanished. I was left alone in a darkness that wasn’t darkness, in a void with no walls or floor. I didn’t know whether my eyes were open or closed. I didn’t know whether I had a body.

When I began to make out shapes, they were my own. The wardrobe, the lamp, the ceiling of my room. I was in my bed, alone. Camila was asleep beside me, turned away, unaware. I grabbed my phone. Two thirty-six in the morning. My cock was hard and sticky, my underwear damp, and I could still taste Mariana’s cunt in my mouth.

The emptiness in my chest was still there. Bigger than before, if anything. As if someone had opened a hole exactly the shape of Mariana and then left without closing it.

I didn’t move for a long time. I didn’t want to go back to sleep, because if I slept I might not dream of her again. And I didn’t want to be awake, because awake she was only Camila’s sister, the girl who said “brother-in-law” at dinner and offered me dessert.

***

Weeks have passed. I’ve seen her again at birthdays, family lunches, a wedding. I give her two quick kisses and look at the floor, because if I look at her for more than a second I get hard again under my pants. I don’t dream about her anymore. I try, I go to bed thinking about her, I jack off in the bathroom while replaying the image of the fair in my head, the yellow lanterns, the purple sweater, her cunt opening for my tongue. She doesn’t come back.

Since that night, reality feels like a long, dull dream, and that dream has become my only paradise. A paradise I don’t know how to return to, but one that every night, before I close my eyes, I silently ask for an empty room.