I Spied on My Husband With His Sisters at the Country House

The system indicator blinked three times before stabilizing. I was in my study, the lights off, with the only brightness coming from the screen. I’d been paying for this subscription for weeks and still didn’t fully understand why I kept doing it. Well, yes, I did understand. I just didn’t admit it out loud.

When the image cleared, I recognized my father-in-law’s country house at once. The golden morning light came in through the living room’s picture windows. My husband was sitting in the green leather wingback chair, a cup of coffee in his left hand and the newspaper spread across his lap. He was wearing the blue shirt I gave him for his birthday.

Behind him, in the doorway, his sister Camila appeared.

And she was completely naked.

She walked barefoot, unhurried, with the natural ease of someone who knows no one else is in the house. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and the skin of her chest was still flushed, as if she’d just come out of the shower. She snatched the newspaper from my husband’s hands before he could react.

—Good morning, little brother —she said, leaning in until one of her breasts pressed against his cheek.

My husband froze.

—What the hell are you doing? —he stammered.

—Nothing. I just want to know if I look hot when I’m naked. And who better than my big brother to give me an honest opinion?

I felt something strange in my stomach. Not jealousy, not yet.

Camila dropped her gaze to my husband’s crotch and smiled with the calm of someone who’s already won.

—I can see your little sister does interest you a bit. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. Stand up.

She said it with a firmness that admitted no argument. My husband got to his feet as if pulled by strings. She knelt on the Persian rug, unbuckled his belt, and lowered his pants just enough to pull out his cock, already rigid, betrayed by his own body.

—As expected —Camila murmured.

She closed her mouth around him and started sucking slowly, looking up from below. My husband threw his head back and let out a moan I hadn’t heard from him in years. Camila’s voice came out again between laps.

—Tell me something. Does your boring wife suck you like this, or only on your birthday?

The comment drove something between my ribs. And still I didn’t look away from the screen.

Camila straightened and sat half sideways on the dining table, opening her legs with calculated slowness.

—I’m going to show you how you eat out a sister’s pussy. Pay attention, little brother.

My husband knelt without saying a word, as if hypnotized. He stuck out his tongue and started licking her with the awkwardness of a boy doing it for the first time. Camila moaned, grabbed his head with both hands, and set the pace. She was the one in control. She always had been.

—Not bad at all —she panted—. Too bad your little wife doesn’t know how to appreciate it.

I bore that line too.

—Now fuck me —Camila ordered.

My husband shoved his pants down to his ankles, still wearing his shoes, and drove into her in one hard thrust. The dining table creaked under their weight. Camila threw her head back and let out a long cry that echoed through the empty room.

—You’d be more comfortable naked —she said after a moment, catching her breath.

He obeyed. He took off his shirt, his pants, his socks. When he was naked, Camila got down from the table, turned her back to him, and sat on his lap, letting the cock slide into her again. She started riding him with a slow, almost obscene sway while she spoke over her shoulder.

—Tell me, brother. Am I as slutty as the women you take to hotel beds when you travel for work?

—You’re the sluttiest of them all —he answered, and this time he didn’t even bother to hide it.

Those words scraped me raw inside. And those same words also started to turn me on. It was a contradiction I still can’t explain.

They moved to the armchair. He sat down and she kept riding him, now facing him, arms around his neck. My husband sucked one nipple after the other and whispered things into her ear that the camera didn’t catch. I could only see his lips moving against her skin.

—I want your cock in my mouth again —Camila asked after a while.

She knelt in front of him and took him into her mouth with real hunger. My husband stroked her hair with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in a long time.

—Little sister, I’m going to come —he warned.

Camila didn’t pull away. She let him finish in her mouth and swallowed every last drop while looking him in the eyes.

—Let’s go up to my room —she suggested, wiping her lips with the back of her hand—. We can keep going there, in peace.

They went upstairs. The camera followed them with an automatic angle change. In Camila’s bedroom —salmon-colored walls, an embroidered bedspread I recognized from family photos— she laid my husband on his back and sucked him again until he was ready. Then she sat on top of him facing away, riding him in silence for a couple of minutes before turning around to look at him head-on.

—Your wife is so lucky —she said between moans— to get to enjoy this cock every night.

—Don’t be so sure. With her it doesn’t come out the same anymore —he replied.

And there, exactly there, I felt something inside me break and surrender at the same time.

Camila finally turned around again, now on all fours, letting my husband take her from behind. And from behind, while she looked at him over her shoulder with her mouth half open, my husband asked permission for something more. A gesture, a look, a smile. Camila nodded. And he guided the cock a little higher.

The first thrust made her scream. The second made her moan like a madwoman. Camila clung to the sheets and started babbling things that were barely understandable. When he said he was going to come again, she got up and knelt on the floor, head thrown back and mouth open. My husband flooded her. Some spilled onto her tongue, some on her cheeks, some on her neck.

At that moment the connection cut out.

***

Three days passed before the system blinked again. Three days in which I slept badly, spoke little, and smiled a lot. My husband had come back from the country house, had hugged me at the door, had asked me about my week. I answered him in the same voice I always used. Inside, I was another woman.

When the screen cleared again, my husband was back at the country house. This time not in the living room, but in the kitchen. Standing next to the counter. And beside him, dressed in very tight jeans and a white blouse with the first buttons undone, was his other sister, Daniela.

Daniela was always Camila’s opposite. Taller, quieter, more mine —or so I thought, because we got on especially well.

—Little brother, you take such good care of yourself. You’re getting more handsome all the time —she told him, resting a hand on his chest.

And before my husband could answer, she kissed him. It wasn’t a sister’s kiss. It was a long kiss, with tongue, with her hand sliding beneath his shirt. My husband kissed her back with a hunger that hurt me and turned me on in equal measure.

—What a cock you’ve got —Daniela murmured when they parted, already lowering his belt—. I’m not going to waste it just because you’re my brother.

She took off his T-shirt. She pulled down his pants. When he was naked, she took a step back to look at him all over and bit her lower lip, satisfied. Then she unbuttoned her blouse with theatrical slowness and revealed a blue lace bra. She undid her jeans and let them fall to her ankles, staying in a tiny thong of the same color.

—Today it’s your sister’s turn to take care of this cock —she said, and knelt down.

She took his cock into her mouth with her eyes closed, focused, as if she were savoring something forbidden and delicious in equal measure. My husband grabbed her hair with both hands and started moving her head at the pace he wanted. Daniela took it all, without protesting, letting him have control.

When he was rock hard, she stood up, leaned back against the counter, and lifted one leg onto the marble, offering her sex as if on a platter.

—Come on, little brother. Fuck me like I’m her.

“Her” was me. I knew it. My husband knew it. Daniela knew it. And still he lunged at his sister with a violence he hadn’t shown me in years.

He fucked her hard, gripping her by the waist, and the two of them started moaning uncontrollably. The whole kitchen vibrated: the glasses in the cupboard, the magnets on the fridge, the sugar bowl beside the kettle. Daniela dug her nails into his shoulders. My husband whispered things in her ear that the camera didn’t catch, but that made her smile with a crooked grin.

—I want your cum in my mouth —she panted after a while, pulling away from him.

She knelt down again. She sucked him with hunger, with urgency, with the determination of someone trying to win a race. When he came, she didn’t waste a single drop. Then she stood up, wiped her chin with her hand, and smiled with the calm of someone who had the whole day ahead of her.

—Let’s go to the living room. We’ll be more comfortable there.

And so they did. The camera followed them. On the sofa, she sucked him again until my husband lifted her by the hips and sat her on his lap, repeating the same position he’d used with Camila just days before. Daniela rode him with a different rhythm, slower, dirtier. She bit his lower lip. She pinched his nipples. She talked into his ear.

When he asked to change positions, she lay back on the sofa and bent her legs. My husband slid between her thighs and entered her again, this time staring directly into her eyes. And that, I don’t know why, was what hurt me most.

After that he asked her for something else. Daniela arched one eyebrow, weighed the proposal, smiled.

—Well, aren’t you horny, little brother. Fine. You’re my brother and I’m going to please you. But let me be the one in control.

She made him lie on his back. She climbed on top. And she guided my husband’s cock to her other hole, slowly, measuring every inch. When she had him all the way inside, she started moving like she’d been doing that all her life.

—You go in so well. And you move so well —he panted—. You really know what you’re doing.

—Asshole —she answered between laughs and moans—. My ass isn’t the first one you’ve tried. And your wife’s isn’t the only one, I’m sure.

She was probably right. I didn’t have time to process it. Daniela turned around without taking him out, now with her back to him, and kept riding. My husband held her by the waist, setting the rhythm. When he asked to change again, Daniela got on all fours over the sofa. My husband knelt behind her. And went in.

Those minutes were the most intense of the whole recording. Daniela came several times, moaning things that were barely words. My husband held on, held on, held on. Until he couldn’t anymore.

—I’m going to come. Where do you want it?

—Inside another day —she panted—. Today I want to swallow it.

She lay back with her mouth open. He came on her. Some landed on her tongue, some on her cheek, some dripped down to her neck.

At that moment the connection cut out.

***

I turned off the screen with a trembling hand. Without realizing it, I’d pulled my skirt up, pushed my underwear aside, and my fingers had been moving on their own for quite a while. I didn’t come right away. I did it slowly, prolonging the sensation, staring at the reflection of the dark screen in the window glass.

I thought of my husband. Of Camila. Of Daniela. Of all the nights over the last few years when he’d come inside me in silence, without wanting to, without whispering anything in my ear. And I thought how paradoxical it was: separately, that routine marriage we had lived through the most intense things of its life. Only separately.

I came at last, biting the sleeve of my sweater so I wouldn’t make a sound.

The system blinked again. Green, green, green.

Something told me that the next time it connected, I wouldn’t be watching my husband.

It would be watching me.