My Father-in-Law Talked Me Into It in the Campground Bathroom

We had planned it weeks in advance: a full day in Valle Hondo, a mountain town a couple of hours from the city. It was going to be Martín and me, our two kids, and my in-laws. The idea was simple: clean air, a barbecue by the river, and a chance to disconnect from everything. What was not part of the plan was what ended up happening, and what I still haven’t told anyone to this day.

That very morning, before we left, my period started. I don’t get severe cramps, just the usual bleeding. The problem is something else: during those days I don’t like to fuck. I feel uncomfortable, unclean, and the mere idea of having a cock inside me kills my desire. It’s one of my rules, and I’ve always respected it, with Martín and with anyone else.

We have a pickup with three rows of seats. Martín was driving. We offered his father the front seat, as copilot, but he preferred to go all the way in back, alone. I sat in the middle row, next to my husband, with my mother-in-law and the kids around us. Don Aníbal, my father-in-law, ended up behind all of us, looking at everyone from the back.

We hadn’t even left the city when I got the first message. It was from him.

I’m horny, I’ve got a hard dick thinking about you. I need to fuck you today.

I read it with the phone pressed to my chest so no one would see. I answered what I always did, the only thing that was appropriate: that I had my period, that I wasn’t in the mood. The reply came instantly.

—Better, baby —the message said—. That’s what the other hole is for. I’m going to fuck your little ass today, so don’t even think about it.

I didn’t answer. I put the phone away and turned to Martín, who was focused on the traffic, oblivious to everything. I started talking to him about anything at all, the weather, the kids, the barbecue, just to keep myself from thinking about what I’d just read. But the word little ass kept turning over in my head, and without meaning to, I squeezed my thighs together in the seat.

***

Getting out of the city is always the hardest part of the trip. Gray stretches of road, trucks, endless traffic lights. We’d gotten up early, left a little after six in the morning, and still got stuck in the outskirts traffic. It wasn’t until around seven-thirty that we left the last neighborhoods behind and the landscape began to change.

When you drive up toward Valle Hondo, everything transforms. The valley opens up, green and damp, with the road climbing at a gentle slope, not many curves. It’s one of those roads that calms you just by looking at it. We stopped for breakfast on the roadside, at a place called Piedra Blanca. We ate well, the kids ran around between the tables, and for a while everything was exactly as it should have been: a family outing.

We got back on the road and, with the sun and the motion, the kids fell asleep. My mother-in-law did too, leaning against the window. I kept chatting softly with Martín. At one point, in the silence, almost out of habit, I opened the phone.

There was a new message from Don Aníbal. A photo.

He had pulled down his pants back there, taking advantage of the fact that his wife and my kids were asleep, and had taken a picture of his dick. The image left nothing to the imagination: he had it gripped by the shaft, thick, hefty, with the head swollen and a shiny drop on the glans. Underneath, a message: Look how hard you’ve got me, bitch. This is going into your little ass today. I shut the screen at once, like it was burning me, and glanced sideways at Martín. He was still driving, calm, with no idea that his father had just sent me a rock-hard cock from the back seat.

I didn’t respond. I went back to talking to my husband, smiling at him, commenting on the scenery. But something had gotten into my head and it wouldn’t leave. The photo, my father-in-law’s swollen dick, the morning’s message. That’s what the other hole is for. It made me furious and, at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I felt myself starting to get wet, and the mix with the blood filled me with a shame that burned my face. That’s the part I find hardest to admit.

***

We got to Valle Hondo around midday. We found a camping area by the river, with concrete tables and brick grills under the trees. We unloaded everything, walked along the bank for a while, the kids dipped their feet in the freezing water and screamed from the cold and the laughter. We started getting everything ready for lunch.

Shortly before noon, Martín and the kids decided to take a short hike up to a waterfall farther up the hill. An hour and a half, they figured. My in-laws and I preferred to stay behind, watching the things and setting up the grill. We watched them head off along the trail, Martín in front with the backpack, the kids behind him, jumping from rock to rock.

A little later, my mother-in-law said she was sleepy and went to lie down in the pickup. The place was still almost empty; we’d arrived early and most people were only just beginning to show up. Don Aníbal and I were left alone, sitting across from each other at one of the tables, with the sound of the river in the background.

It took him less than two minutes to start.

—You know I’m not going to stay calm —he said, looking straight at me—. I want to fuck you. I’ve had a hard-on ever since we left.

—I already told you, Don Aníbal. I’m on my period. I’m not in the mood.

—I’m not asking for your cunt. —He lowered his voice, even though nobody was nearby—. We go into a bathroom for a minute, you pull your jeans down a little and I stick it in your ass. You don’t have to do anything, just stick your ass out.

—You’re crazy. —I let out a nervous laugh and looked toward the pickup—. Your wife is right there, twenty meters away.

—She’s asleep, and you know how she sleeps. She wouldn’t wake up for an earthquake. Come on, baby, a few minutes, I’ll fuck you in the ass, I’ll come inside, and we’re back. No one finds out.

—I’m telling you again, I’m on my period. It’s not comfortable like this, I don’t like being touched.

—Standing up, against the wall. You don’t take anything off. You just lower your jeans a little, suck the tip to wet it, and I’ll slide it in from behind. You’ll see, you won’t even notice, I’ve got my cock well lubricated with need.

—No, Don Aníbal —I insisted, but without the firmness I’d had at the start—. It’s not comfortable for me.

He kept at it a while longer, with that stubborn patience of his, offering and lowering his tone, describing in detail how he was going to fuck my ass, how he was going to leave it dripping with cum, until something in me gave way. I wasn’t convinced, truly I wasn’t. But Don Aníbal had always been a man who knew how to fuck me, and never, in all the times before, had he left me halfway without making me come. That is the uncomfortable truth that pushed me to say yes.

***

He stood up first and went to the pickup to check on his wife. He came back with a nod of his head: she was still sound asleep. We walked separately toward the bathrooms, which were at the back of the campground, a row of individual stalls, unisex. He made sure no one was looking and we went into one together.

Inside it was dark and it smelled of damp and bleach. When he went to turn on the light, I grabbed his hand.

—Leave it off —I asked him.

I didn’t want to see him, or myself. If I had to do this, I’d rather do it in the dark, as if that made it less real. He didn’t argue. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to his knees. I, although I could barely see, felt the bulge brush against me when he came closer, the hard cock pulsing against my hand when I found it without meaning to. It was hot, thick, hard as a rock. I grabbed it almost by reflex and was startled by how swollen he had it, with the glans burning hot and a thick drop on the tip.

—Suck it a little, baby —he whispered—. Wet it up good so it goes in without hurting you.

I knelt on the dirty bathroom floor without thinking too much. I took it in both hands, brought it to my mouth, and ran my tongue all over the tip, tasting that salty drop. Then I took it in all the way, as far as I could, and started sucking him slowly. He put a hand on the back of my neck and pushed a little farther in until I felt it hit the back of my throat. I sucked hard, pulled it out slick with spit, and took him in again. I coated it in saliva while he breathed heavily above me, holding in his moans, shoving his dick down my throat until I was tearing up.

—That’s it, bitch, wet it well, because I’m going to shove it all the way into that sweet little ass —he murmured.

When he thought it was enough, he hauled me up by the arm. I did what he’d asked: I lowered my jeans to my thighs, moved my bloodstained underwear aside a little, and braced myself against the cold wall. I arched my back, lifting my hips a little, pushing my ass back so he could get in without trouble and get out of there as soon as possible.

I wasn’t turned on, or at least I didn’t want to be. I was tense, alert to any noise outside, waiting for it to be over quickly. I thought it would just be uncomfortable and nothing more.

But he wasn’t in a hurry. He pressed himself against my back, his whole body, the wet cock staying between my ass cheeks, and started talking in my ear in a very low voice. He told me things I’m not going to repeat, filthy things about how it turned him on to see me sleeping next to his son knowing he’d fucked me, about how he came in the shower thinking of my ass, things that made me blush and that, against my will, began to heat me up. He slid one hand around to the front, moved the towel aside, and touched my bloodied cunt without a hint of disgust. He found the swollen clit and started working it with two fingers, in slow circles, while with the other hand he squeezed one of my tits under my T-shirt and pinched my nipple. He traced the edge of my ear with his tongue, down my neck, slowly, and I felt my whole skin rise in gooseflesh. A low moan escaped me, and he smothered it with his hand over my mouth.

—Shut up, bitch, they’ll hear us —he whispered, and kept rubbing my clit until my knees went weak.

With his fingers he prepared my ass, unhurried, spitting in his hand and bringing the saliva to my tight asshole. He slid one finger in first, to the knuckle, and moved it in circles until I stopped clenching. Then he put in two, and I felt the burn of stretching for him. I was biting the air, biting my own hand, holding back the urge to scream. When he felt my body stop resisting, he pulled his fingers out, settled behind me, and rested the head of his cock between my ass cheeks, searching for the hole.

—Open up, baby, arch more for your father-in-law —he panted.

And without further ado, he started to push. I held my breath and clenched my teeth.

***

It hurt. The thick tip pushing against the tight ring brought tears to my eyes. I was in no way ready for a cock that size, and the first seconds were pure discomfort, a burn that made me dig my nails into the wall. I was on the verge of asking him to stop. But there was no going back now, and part of me —the part I have trouble acknowledging— didn’t want him to stop.

He advanced carefully but without stopping, gaining ground little by little, a centimeter and waiting, another centimeter and breathing on my neck, until I felt his balls rest against my cunt. He was buried all the way in, my father-in-law’s cock driven to the base in my ass. It still hurt, and at the same time I wanted to please him, wanted what was happening to be worth the absurd risk we were taking. I stayed still, palms flat against the wall, taking him, feeling him pulsing inside me.

—What a tight little ass you’ve got, you little bitch —he growled softly—. You’re going to make me come in two minutes.

He started moving, slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out to shove back in to the hilt, and I endured the pain without moving. He kept talking in my ear, one hand on my hip and the other in front, rubbing my clit to the same rhythm as his thrusts. Little by little the burn eased and gave way to something else, a dirty, dark pleasure that climbed up my spine. I surprised myself breathing harder, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make noise, pushing back to meet him, offering him my ass each time he came forward.

He sped up. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass began to fill the stall, a wet, obscene slapping, and he had to cover my mouth again because moans were slipping out of me. He drove into me hard, gripping my hip, shoving me against the wall. I could feel every vein on his cock dragging inside me, feel myself opening wider and wider for him, feel his fingers sliding on my cunt soaked with blood and fluid.

—I’m going to fill your ass with cum, baby, tell me you want it —he whispered against my ear.

—Yes —I answered without thinking, barely any voice at all—. Fill me up, Daddy, come inside me.

I don’t even know where that came from. He groaned softly in my ear as if I’d cracked a whip on him, and started fucking me harder, with short, deep thrusts, while he pinched my clit between two fingers and squeezed it.

I don’t know how long it lasted. In that dark, narrow bathroom I lost track of time and where we were. There was only his voice, his cock going in and out of my ass, his body pushing me against the wall and both of us straining to stay quiet. When I came, I did it biting my hand so the sound wouldn’t leave the stall, with my ass contracting around his cock and my legs trembling so hard I almost fell. He felt me clench around him and couldn’t hold back any longer: he buried himself to the hilt, dug his fingers into my hips, and unloaded everything inside, in hot jets that felt like they were burning me from the inside. He came with a muffled groan against my neck, pumping two, three, four more times to empty himself completely. I went from “I don’t want to” to “thank you” in a matter of minutes, as I think happens to many of us when we stop lying to ourselves.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, catching our breath, saying nothing, with his cock still inside me, softening little by little. Then he pulled away, and I felt the trickle of warm semen running down the backs of my thighs, mixing with the blood. He got dressed and washed what needed washing in the little sink in the corner. Before leaving he came over and gave me a quick kiss on the nape of my neck. He went out first, checking that no one was around.

***

I stayed inside a little longer. I cleaned myself up with toilet paper as best I could, took the spare towel out of my pocket and changed the one I had, trying not to stain my jeans with the mix of cum and blood still running down me. I spent a few minutes trying to get everything in order, to erase any trace of what had happened. I looked at myself in the smudged mirror, in the dim light, and barely recognized myself. My cheeks were flushed, my hair was a mess, and I had an expression I couldn’t tell whether was guilt or something else. I could feel my ass throbbing, sore and full, and every step I took reminded me of what I had just done.

When I got back to the table, my mother-in-law was already awake and chatting calmly with Don Aníbal about the grill, about the charcoal that was taking so long to catch. He held my gaze for a second, just barely, with the ghost of a smile, and then kept talking as if nothing had happened. I sat down with them carefully, feeling the burn between my ass cheeks, and poured myself a glass of soda with hands that were still a little shaky.

About ten minutes later Martín and the kids appeared on the trail, sweaty and happy, telling us how huge the waterfall was and how cold the water had been. My husband kissed me on the forehead and asked if I’d been bored while they were gone.

—Not at all —I told him, and helped him unload the backpack—. We were getting everything ready with your parents.

We all started preparing the barbecue together. Martín stoking the fire, the kids asking for sausages, my mother-in-law cutting the bread, Don Aníbal opening the drinks. A perfect postcard of a family on a Sunday in the mountains. No one would have imagined what had happened half an hour earlier, twenty meters from there, in a dark bathroom, with my father-in-law emptying my ass while his wife slept in the pickup.

The rest of the day was beautiful, truly. We ate until we could barely move, we laughed, the kids fell asleep on the way back just like they had on the way there. I sat beside Martín, feeling my ass still burning and how, every time I shifted in the seat, a little more of my father-in-law’s cum leaked out. And looking out the window at the valley growing dark, I thought about how easy it had been to say no all morning and how little it had taken, in the end, to say yes.