My Ex’s Niece Texted Me Months Later

My ex had a niece and a nephew, eighteen-year-old twins. I got along with both of them, but with her there was something different from the very first afternoon I saw her walk into the house with her backpack slung over one shoulder and red eyes from crying over her boyfriend.

Marisol, my partner back then, had told me the girl was having trouble with a kid from her school. I was in the kitchen pouring coffee when Renata came in and sank into a chair as if she weighed a hundred kilos. That same afternoon the three of us sat down in a neighborhood restaurant and let her talk. I gave her advice without getting too involved. When we got back, she kissed my cheek and said, “Thanks, uncle.” Something about the way she said it stayed on my mind for a long time.

From that day on she started calling me uncle. And for me, who had never had children, I liked it more than I was willing to admit.

Renata was helpful, affectionate in a way no direct niece or nephew ever was. Every time she came over, she hugged me hard and I felt against my chest the firmness of tits that, for her eighteen years, were a small scandal. She had a narrow waist, perky hips, a round ass that strained against any pair of pants she wore, and a way of moving that seemed unaware of everything. Or maybe she was aware of everything.

The first time I really wanted her was one afternoon in March. She had bought a red dress for a party and came down into the living room to model it.

“Do I look good for making him jealous?” she asked, turning slowly.

Marisol was laughing. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, looking at her shoes instead of her legs. That night in bed, I closed my eyes and for the first time I wasn’t with my partner. I was with my niece. I pictured her on her knees, that red dress bunched up to her waist and her mouth open waiting for me. I came quietly, covering myself with the sheet so Marisol wouldn’t see my hand.

***

Time passed and the trust kept growing. The kids came over with less and less supervision from their mother. On one vacation they stayed with us for two weeks. One afternoon Marisol suggested, half joking, that I teach them self-defense in case someone ever approached them on the street.

It was the perfect excuse to touch her without anyone being able to say anything.

The four of us went to a park near the river. I started with her brother, Tomás, because it was the sensible thing to do. I grabbed him by the neck, showed him how to break free, all of it in good spirits. Renata climbed on from behind laughing, as if we were kids playing roughhouse. At some point Marisol joined in too and the four of us rolled around on the grass, all tangled up, all laughing.

At one point I ended up with Renata’s back pressed against my chest. I wrapped an arm around her neck to simulate a hold and felt, without meaning to and meaning to, my forearm press one of her tits. She kept laughing. Marisol was wrestling with Tomás on the other side and didn’t see a thing. I took advantage. I made a turn as if I were going to lift her and left my open hand on her breast a second longer than necessary. I squeezed just a little. I felt the hard nipple against my palm, outlined through her bra and T-shirt. It was very little. But it was something.

Renata didn’t complain. She wasn’t surprised. She kept laughing like nothing had happened, and even stuck her ass back for a moment, against my crotch, as if by accident.

I felt my cock start to swell inside my pants and froze. I said we were done, that we were good for today. I walked off a little apart until it went down.

***

We went back to the house to shower. The order was Tomás, Marisol, Renata, and me last. When she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and with wet hair, she passed close to me and whispered with a wicked smile:

“See if you still have any water left, uncle. I almost used it all up.”

I smiled back without answering.

I told Marisol I was going into the bathroom for a bit while the water heated up again. I locked the door. I sat on the toilet lid and looked at my phone for a couple of minutes. When I looked up, I saw that the laundry basket had its lid open and on top of it, folded any old way, there was a black intimate garment. Renata’s thong. She hadn’t put it away properly.

My whole body went still.

I picked it up with two fingers. It was still a little damp, not from water, but from the heat of having been worn. I turned it slowly and saw the pale mark in the center, that darker oval a young woman’s pussy leaves after a long day. I brought it close to my nose, almost afraid of myself. The smell was strong, salty, with something sweet I couldn’t name, the pure smell of her cunt soaked into the cotton. My cock went hard all at once, so hard I had to loosen my belt to get it out.

I stepped into the shower without turning on the water, cloth in one hand and cock in the other. I pressed the thong to my nose and mouth, sucked the part that had been against her cunt, tasted it on my tongue, sour and warm, and started jerking off slowly thinking about her. I pictured her on her knees in that same shower, wet hair stuck to her face, mouth open and tongue out waiting for me to finish on her. I pictured her sucking me to the hilt, gagging a little, looking up at me the way she had looked at me on the grass. It didn’t take long. I came in spurts against the tiles, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t make a sound, with a tremor in my legs that almost made me sit down.

When I finished, I wiped the wall with the same thong and folded it again, wrapping it inside the bra that was there too, so Marisol wouldn’t see it when she separated the laundry. I put it back in the basket.

I turned on the shower. I washed for a long time. Renata’s pussy smell had stuck inside my nose as if it were mine.

***

That was the last time I was close to her. The vacation ended, the kids went back home, and a few months later Marisol and I argued over something stupid that was really much bigger, and we split up. What hurt most, though I couldn’t say it out loud, was knowing I wasn’t going to see Renata anymore. I fantasized about her lips, about her mouth around my cock, about the tip of my dick hitting the back of her throat, about spreading her ass and seeing her cunt for the first time. Things a decent man shouldn’t fantasize about when it comes to his ex’s niece.

Six months passed. I was already living alone, in an apartment fifteen blocks from where I had lived with Marisol. One Thursday afternoon, while I was drinking coffee in front of the computer, I got a TikTok message. Unknown user. I opened it.

“Hi, uncle. How are you? Do you remember me? You left without saying goodbye.”

It was her.

I answered with slightly trembling hands. I told her of course I remembered, that things with her aunt hadn’t ended well and that because of that I hadn’t known how to say goodbye. I told her that to me she was still my niece, even if it wasn’t official anymore.

“I miss you so much,” she wrote. “I’m not doing well and I have no one to talk to. Could I come see you one day?”

I said yes before I thought about it.

“I live near where I used to,” I wrote. “If you want, I can pick you up and we can come back to my place. That way we won’t have to worry about who sees us.”

“I can skip school tomorrow,” she replied. “My mom doesn’t take me anymore and my brother is studying in another city. I’m free from two to eight. Does that work?”

I told her I’d be waiting for her at the mall entrance at two. I closed the conversation and sat staring at the ceiling for a long while, my cock pressed tight in my pants and my balls already swollen just from thinking about her.

***

The next day I arrived fifteen minutes early. She was on time. I saw her walking toward the main entrance and it was hard to breathe. She was wearing black leggings that showed off her ass in an obscene way, a short white T-shirt, and an open denim jacket. Her hair was longer than the last time. Her hips stood out differently. She wasn’t the girl in the red dress anymore.

When she saw me, she stopped walking casually and broke into a short jog. She hugged me hard, both hands on my back, and I swear on everything I know she wasn’t wearing a bra. I felt her tits against my chest, firm, natural, the nipples already outlined beneath the thin fabric. I also felt, though she didn’t even try to hide it much, that she pressed her pelvis against mine a second longer than necessary, rubbing her pussy over her clothes like someone doing it by accident.

“You’re bigger, niece,” I said, and regretted how it sounded.

She laughed.

“And you’re still the same, uncle.”

I told her I still didn’t have a car, that we were taking the bus. She didn’t care. At the stop she started telling me her problems: that her mother was suffocating her, that Marisol kept pushing her to go out with her and she didn’t want to, that her brother had become unbearable with jealousy.

The bus arrived packed. We had to stand. I positioned myself diagonally behind her, one hand up on the pole and the other across her back, keeping her safe. It was a reasonable excuse. There weren’t many men in the world I was going to explain the rest to.

I rested my leg against the back of her thighs. I expected her to move away. She didn’t. On the contrary, she leaned back very slightly. Like a question.

As the bus moved on, it got more crowded. People pressed in on us. I slid my hand down from her back to her waist and rested it there firmly, as if protecting her. She kept talking as if nothing was happening, but she leaned back a little more against my leg. I could feel her buttocks. I could feel the fabric of the leggings, that cheap but incredibly thin texture, against my thigh. The line of her thong showed beneath them, and lower still, the split of her ass and the warm bulge of her cunt pressed by the seam.

On a sharp turn from the driver, people shoved us. I moved my hand down a couple of centimeters, to the upper edge of her ass. She said nothing. She didn’t move. She kept telling me some story about school. I slid down a little more, palm open, until I had half a cheek in my hand. I squeezed. I felt it firm, dense, young. Then she pressed the back of her thigh against my leg, trapping me there, not letting me pull my hand away.

Another sudden brake and my body pressed closer to hers. She felt, without my being able to stop it, that my hard cock was digging into her ass. She turned her head slightly, looked at me over her shoulder, and smiled. It wasn’t a smile of surprise. It was a warning smile. Then she faced forward again and, very slowly, started moving her ass against my cock, in a tiny rocking motion no one on the bus could notice but that was killing me.

I told her in her ear that we’d get off at the next stop.

***

We went up the stairs to my building without speaking. In the elevator she leaned against the back wall and stared at me. I still didn’t dare touch her. I wanted to, and at the same time it seemed impossible. She bit her lower lip, ran her tongue over it, and without lowering her gaze squeezed one of her tits through her T-shirt, showing me how her finger sank in. My throat tightened.

When I got into the apartment I left the keys on the table. I offered her something to drink. She asked for a glass of water. I poured it. She drank it almost all in one gulp, a little stream running from the corner of her mouth, set the glass down, and came toward me with a calm that disarmed me.

“Uncle,” she said, “I came because I wanted to see you. Not because I’m sad.”

“I know.”

I took off her denim jacket slowly. She raised her arms so I could. Underneath, the white T-shirt made visible what I had already felt in the hug: no fabric in between, two dark nipples outlined through the cotton. I slid my open hand over one breast, not rushing anything, as if we were still playing self-defense in that park years ago. I pinched her nipple between two fingers. She closed her eyes and let out the air through her mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” I told her.

“Me too. For longer than you think.”

I kissed her. I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth and she sucked on mine like she’d been hungry for years. She tasted exactly as I had imagined so many times. I yanked off her T-shirt and finally saw her tits bare, even prettier than I had pictured them in the shower that day: perked up, with small areolas and nipples hard as pebbles. I took one in my mouth and sucked hard, licking it and nibbling the tip. She dug her fingers into my neck and moaned out loud for the first time.

I pressed her against the living room wall. I left kisses on her neck, on her collarbone, at the base of her tits, while she unclasped my belt with the steady hand of someone who had already decided everything on the bus, or before. She pulled my pants and boxer briefs down in one sharp motion. My cock sprang out, hard, veined, pointing at her navel. She looked at it for a second, bit her lip, and knelt right there in the middle of the living room, without me having to ask for anything.

She grabbed it with both hands, spat on the tip, and spread it around with her thumb. Then she opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and licked me from balls to head, slowly, looking up at me with those shining eyes I’d been imagining for years. She took me in her mouth at once, halfway, then a little more, and started sucking me with a slow rhythm that made my legs shake. She gagged twice trying to take more in, eyes watering, saliva dripping from her chin down to her tits. She sucked with real hunger, closed her lips tight around the shaft, and sucked my balls one by one too, while she kept stroking me with her hand.

“That’s it, niece, that’s it,” I said, my voice breaking. “Suck it all.”

She moaned with my cock in her mouth, and that vibration almost made me finish right then. I lifted her by the elbows before I came. I didn’t want to end yet. I took her to the sofa.

I pulled her leggings down carefully, as if I might still change my mind. I didn’t. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her skin was burning. I spread her legs and finally saw her pussy up close: pink, small, wet, with a shining thread hanging between the lips. She was much wetter than I’d expected. I knelt between her legs and buried my face there without warning. I ran my tongue all the way from the bottom up to the clit in one stroke and felt her arch into my mouth. I sucked her clit hard, lips tight, while I slid two fingers inside her and searched for that hard spot that makes women scream. She covered her face with one arm and let out a sound that wasn’t a moan, something quieter, more intimate, something she’d only ever let one person hear in a very long time.

I kept eating her pussy until her whole body started trembling. She grabbed my hair, pressed my face against her, and came in my mouth with a long spasm, biting her arm to keep from screaming. I felt more hot fluid spill over my fingers, over my chin, over the sofa.

Then I went back up. I kissed her navel, her tits, then her mouth again so she could taste herself. She looked at me from below with bright eyes and said, almost voicelessly:

“Uncle, please.”

That was the word that finished sinking me.

I grabbed her by the hips and pressed the tip of my cock against her cunt. I rubbed it there, up and down, soaking myself all over with her. She pushed her pelvis toward me, needy, and I kept denying her to make her want it more.

“Put it in me, uncle, please,” she said. “Put it in me now.”

I shoved in. It went in little by little, ridiculously tight, and she jerked and opened her legs wider. I felt her give, wrap around me, trap me. I stayed still for a second inside her, looking her in the eyes, hardly able to believe where I was. Then I started moving. First slowly, with long, deep thrusts, feeling every centimeter of her pussy tightening around my cock. She dug her nails into my back and begged for more.

“Harder, uncle. Fuck me harder.”

I grabbed one leg, hooked it over my shoulder, and started giving it to her hard. The sofa creaked. Her tits bounced with every thrust. The sound of my pelvis slapping against her thighs, wet and obscene, filled the room. Her mouth was open and her eyes half closed, moaning without holding back now, saying my name and uncle in the same sentence.

I flipped her over. I put her on all fours on the sofa, knees apart and ass raised. I saw her cunt and little ass like that, open, wet, offered, and I nearly came just from the sight. I slammed my cock all the way in with one thrust. She screamed and gripped the back of the sofa. I took her hair, not hard, and wrapped it around my hand. I started fucking her hard, with dry, sharp thrusts, watching her ass sway with every blow. I slapped one cheek. She moaned louder.

“Again,” she begged.

I slapped her again. And again. Her ass turned pink. I ran my thumb over the little hole in back and pressed it just a little. She clenched all around my cock.

“I’m gonna come again, uncle,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m gonna come…”

I held her by the hips and drove it to the hilt, fast, nonstop. She came with a long cry, squeezing my cock in one spasm after another, so hard I had to bite my lip to hold on. When I felt her go loose I turned her over again. I wanted to look at her when I finished.

I laid her on her back, lifted both her legs, spread them wide, and slid back in. I fucked her slowly, looking at her, watching her tits bounce and her face transformed by pleasure. She ran her hands over my face, stroked my lips, put two fingers in my mouth for me to suck.

“Fill me up inside, uncle,” she whispered. “I’m on birth control. Fill me up inside. I want to feel you.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I buried my face in her neck and let go. I came inside her in long streams, in spasms that shook my whole spine, moaning against her ear like I hadn’t come in years. She held me tight with her legs around my waist, feeling every pulse, and whispered “yes, uncle, like that, all of it, all of it” in my ear while I kept filling her.

I stayed on top of her for a long time, not pulling out, feeling myself go soft inside her. She stroked the back of my neck. She was smiling.

After that there was no more bus, no more shopping mall, no more Marisol, no jealous brother, no mother’s house. There was only that, and two more times before eight: once in the bed, with her on top, riding me slowly with her tits hanging in my face, and once quick and filthy against the bathroom sink, looking at each other in the mirror while I took her from behind and she licked her lips like a cat. An afternoon from three to eight that I remembered for years every time I heard the word “uncle” said in a certain way.

When she left, with her hair still tousled, her jacket half buttoned, and my cum running down the inside of her thigh, she kissed my cheek at the door and said, just like the first time in that restaurant:

“Thanks, uncle.”

And again, just like that afternoon, it stayed on my mind for a long time.