My Girlfriend’s Mother Wasn’t the Only One That Night

The car engine cut out in front of the estate steps and, all at once, the only sound was our breathing. The air inside the cabin was so heavy it felt like a single word could shatter everything. Beside me, Renata kept her gaze fixed on the glove compartment, but her chest was rising and falling far too fast. She wore a pearl-colored silk dress that clung to the curves of her mature body with a boldness her daughter had never had.

—We shouldn’t be here, Hugo —she whispered, though she made no move to get out of the car—. If Lucía finds out I came here alone with you to your parents’ house…

—Lucía can’t tell a good wine from vinegar, Renata —I replied, turning to her without haste—. Just like she doesn’t know what a man is. She’s still playing house. You, on the other hand, know perfectly well why you agreed to this trip.

I put my hand on her thigh, right where the silk ended and the heat of her skin began. Renata gave a gasp, but she didn’t pull my hand away. Her fingers dug into the seat. With her daughter it was all youthful clumsiness; with her I felt a different kind of resistance, a maturity begging to be broken.

—You’re a demon —she managed to say, looking at me at last. Her eyes were full of something that only years of endurance can simmer up slowly.

—I’m the man who’s going to teach you why your daughter will always be a shadow beside you —I said.

***

We got out of the car. The cold night hit us, but it only served to fan the flames. I opened the heavy oak front door of my parents’ house. The foyer welcomed us with the smell of wax, fresh flowers, and that aristocratic silence that was about to be profaned. I didn’t turn on the main lights; I left only a table lamp casting long shadows over the marble.

As soon as I shut the door, I didn’t even give her time to let go of her bag. I cornered her against the cold wood. The dull thud of her back echoed through the empty hall.

—Hugo, not here… someone could come… —she tried to protest, but the words died when my mouth found her neck.

—You smell like a woman, Renata. Not like teenage perfume, but like someone who spent years wishing this perfect-lady façade would be torn off her. Lucía gets scared when I touch her hard. You don’t. Your body was made for this.

My hands slid up her hips, lifting the silk. She arched her back, searching for contact, buried her fingers in my hair and tugged with a desperation that finished giving her away. There was no tenderness in what she did; there was something raw, almost animal. She wanted to feel the weight of my desire, the firmness of a man who doesn’t respect family trees.

—Tell me she’s nothing compared to you —I demanded in her ear, finding the dampness already soaking her lace lingerie—. Tell me.

—She… she’s a child —she moaned, throwing her head back—. She doesn’t know anything… God, Hugo.

I turned her and set her with her back to the door. The contrast between her lady-like elegance and the position I was putting her in set me on fire. I pulled her dress up to her waist. Renata panted between pleasure and shame, her hands pressed against the wood, while I undid my belt with one hand and held her by the hair with the other.

—Lucía thinks I’m hers —I whispered—. But every time I touch her, I think about the woman who brought her into the world. I think about how to break that elegance of yours until there’s nothing left but a female begging.

—Do it already! —she cried, forgetting decorum, forgetting where we were—. Make me yours!

The first thrust came with no preamble, claiming her interior with an authority that made her scream up toward the ceiling. Renata trembled, her legs shaking in her heels, while I set an unrelenting pace. The sound of our flesh began to fill the foyer, an obscene music that defied the portraits watching us from the shadows.

What she didn’t know, and what I was about to discover, was that in this house secrets have eyes. And behind the crack of the drawing-room door, someone was holding their breath.

***

For Carmen, the noise coming from the foyer was deafening. She was standing in the darkness of the sitting room, her body pressed against the cold wood of the door. Her fingers, covered in rings that had passed from generation to generation, trembled on the knob. One centimeter. A sliver of light was all that separated her from the chaos.

Through that gap she saw something no mother should ever see and yet couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her green eyes were wide open. There was her son, Hugo, turned into pure will, subduing Renata against the wall of the ancestors.

What disturbed her most was the sound. Not the other woman’s moans, but the dull, rhythmic slap of her son’s flesh. Carmen felt a shiver that didn’t come from the cold, but from somewhere much deeper and darker. Seeing Hugo like that, with that brutal confidence, with that back tensing on every drive, stirred in her a strange pang of pride mixed with something forbidden.

He’s become an animal, she thought, almost breathless.

Renata, her friend from tea afternoons and charity galas, was now reduced to a trembling woman under her son’s command. Carmen could see the silk dress turned to rags around her waist, the hands that were always so carefully kept clawing at the wall. The other mother’s humiliation was the fuel for her own arousal.

Suddenly, Hugo looked up. Carmen stopped breathing, convinced he had discovered her. Their gazes met for an infinite second. But he didn’t stop. On the contrary: a cruel, complicit smile curved his lips. He knew she was there. He wanted her to watch.

Her knees weakened. The fact that her son knew she was witnessing it and, instead of feeling shame, invited her to keep watching, completely demolished her matriarch’s morality. Her right hand slipped down, almost without permission, over the gray silk skirt. The brush of her own intimacy tore a gasp from her that was lost beneath Renata’s scream. She was soaked, and she began to caress herself in the same rhythm as her son’s hips.

That strength, that cruelty, he inherited from me, she told herself, eyes fixed on Hugo’s back.

***

I never took my eyes off the crack. Knowing I was being watched by my own mother, by the woman who represented the law and the family name of this house, turned me into more than a man. I grabbed Renata by the nape and forced her to tilt her head back toward the drawing-room door.

—Do you know who’s behind there? —I whispered, projecting my voice cruelly toward the gap—. My mother is watching us. Feel how she devours us with her eyes while you twist under my command.

Renata let out a sob of sheer shock. Panic tried to surface, but the intensity of the thrusts drowned it before it could be born.

—Hugo, no… —she moaned, though her hips lifted, begging for more.

—Shut up —I ordered, with a sharp slap that echoed like a gunshot in the house’s silence—. She knows what you are. But she doesn’t know what I’m thinking about her right now.

I increased the pace, my eyes fixed on that centimeter of darkness.

—You listening, Mom? —I said, addressing the door—. I know you’re there. I know you’re watching me break this woman under the eyes of our ancestors. And I know you’re wet. Because you and I have the same blood.

Behind the door, Carmen felt her heart stop. Her fingers paused for an instant at her son’s audacity.

—Do you know what I want right now? —I went on, my voice rougher—. For you to open that door. For you to see that your son has no limits. Come out, Carmen. Come out and prove you own this house, or join what’s happening in it.

Renata was screaming, her body shaking in a violent climax, but I didn’t stop. I kept waiting for the final move.

The drawing-room door creaked open. The centimeter of darkness became ten, then twenty. Carmen’s silhouette began to cut against the foyer light.

***

She appeared in the doorway, bathed in the dim light. There was no trace left of the perfect matriarch: the gray silk skirt wrinkled, her hair disordered, her chest rising and falling with a violence that betrayed what she had just lived through in the shadows. Her green eyes landed first on Renata and then lifted to me.

I didn’t stop.

—Bring the oil from the living-room cabinet, Mom —I repeated, with an authority that made her start—. Move.

Carmen walked to the wooden cabinet with trembling legs. Her fingers, which minutes earlier had been buried in herself, searched for the carved bottle of sandalwood and jasmine oil. She took it with an unsteady hand and came back. Renata, hanging off my shoulder, watched her friend approach the epicenter of everything.

—Put it on your hands —I ordered, slowing the rhythm but not leaving Renata—. And spread it over her. I want you to feel the flesh your son is claiming.

Carmen obeyed. The oil spilled onto her palms with an obscene whisper. She moved closer and began sliding her hands over the other woman’s back and hips, with a mixture of fascination and envy. The contact of two mature, lubricated, hot bodies raised the scene to a level that no longer allowed any turning back.

—Look at her —I growled, feeling my mother’s hands brush mine over Renata’s body—. She’s experienced, but she doesn’t have your fire. Do you know how long I waited to have you both like this?

—Hugo… son… this is madness —Carmen whispered, though her hands kept roaming over her friend, now moving down toward her thighs.

—The madness was pretending it wouldn’t happen —I replied. I grabbed Renata by the hair and forced her to look at my mother—. Tell her how you feel.

—I feel… better than I ever have in my life, Carmen —Renata moaned, throwing her head back—. Your son isn’t like the others.

***

I came out of Renata and turned to my mother. Carmen froze, her breath caught at my closeness.

—On the floor, both of you —I ordered, in a voice that admitted no doubt at all.

Renata, with shaking legs and her dress turned into a wet shred, sank to her knees. Carmen, the proud lady of the house, followed a second later. Seeing my own mother kneeling before me, her face flushed with humiliation and desire, was the closest I had ever come to absolute power.

—Prepare her, Mom —I said, pointing at Renata—. I want her to feel your hands before mine.

Carmen, guided by a hunger she could no longer repress, positioned herself behind her friend. She began rubbing on the oil with trembling fingers. Renata let out a strangled cry, arching her back, while my mother’s eyes searched for mine. There was a silent plea in her gaze: the request to be next.

—Patience —I whispered, moving closer.

I grabbed Renata by the hips while Carmen held her by the shoulders, becoming the necessary support. I took her slowly, mercilessly. Renata let out a scream that Carmen immediately muffled, pressing her lips against hers in a hungry kiss. I began moving with a savage rhythm, every thrust making Renata’s body crash against my mother’s, which held them both with desperate strength.

—It’s too much, Hugo —Renata moaned between kisses.

—It’s what you deserve for thinking your daughter was enough for me —I answered—. Look at my mother. Look how she enjoys it. She knows that after you, she’s next.

Carmen, faced with the image of what her son was doing, reached her own climax without anyone touching her. She dug her fingers into Renata’s flesh, eyes fixed on every movement.

***

I pulled Renata away with a roughness that left her panting over the marble, covered in sweat and oil. I didn’t give her time to recover. My final target was right in front of me, on her knees.

Carmen saw me approach and a shiver of terror and pure anticipation ran through her. She was the mistress of the house, the guardian of the surname, but under that dim light she was nothing more than a woman claimed by what she herself had brought into the world.

—Your turn, Mom —I said—. Renata, hold her weight.

I made her stand only to bend her over her friend’s body, which was still on the floor. The image was pure provocation: the house matriarch leaning over my girlfriend’s mother, both of them slick, both at my mercy. I positioned myself behind Carmen, holding her by the narrow waist.

—Look at yourself —I whispered in her ear, tracing her mature, firm skin—. You’re trembling. You liked watching me destroy your friend, didn’t you? You liked seeing what your son is.

—Hugo… please… —she moaned, burying her face in Renata’s shoulder—. We’re the same blood…

—Exactly because of that —I replied—. Because only someone with your blood can take what I’m about to do to you.

I took her. The impact was so deep she let out a howl that sank into the walls of the house. Renata, underneath, felt the jolt and was forced to support her weight, becoming the most intimate witness to all of it. I began moving with a force that surpassed everything before. Carmen, trapped between her friend’s body and mine, surrendered completely, intertwining her fingers with Renata’s while the two of them melted into one moan.

—Look at me, Mom —I ordered, turning her head toward the great gilded mirror in the hallway—. Tell me you’re mine.

—I’m yours! —she screamed, breaking the last veil of her dignity—. Do whatever you want with me!

Renata, instead of pulling away, began to use her hands and mouth to stimulate Carmen from below, closing a circle of pleasure that defied all logic. I ruled over both of them, my hips slamming against my mother’s, the oil making the three bodies slide and blur together.

***

The air was saturated with the trace of jasmine and the raw smell of shared sex. I felt the ending gathering at the base of my spine, a tide of fire threatening to burn everything to ash.

—This is the end, Mom —I growled, squeezing her waist until white marks showed on her reddened skin—. Decency dies here.

Carmen could no longer form words; only guttural sounds. Renata lifted her head from below, her face undone, and sought my mother’s mouth, sealing their union with a desperate kiss while I accelerated to a frenzied pace. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed like a drum on the marble.

I finished with a violence that made Carmen arch almost in two. She screamed, her throat tearing, her nails digging into Renata’s shoulders, who at that very instant collapsed into her own orgasm, shaken by the force crashing over her.

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by our breathing. I withdrew slowly and let Carmen’s body fall onto Renata’s. The two of them remained entwined on the floor, a mass of torn silk, oiled skin, and tangled hair.

I stood up and looked down at them from above. The first light of dawn was beginning to filter through the tall windows, washing the foyer in a bluish gray.

—Look at yourselves —I said, regaining my usual coldness—. Tomorrow, Lucía will wake up thinking everything is the same. But you both know the truth. From today on, this house has only one owner.

Carmen raised her gaze, wiping the sweat from her forehead. There was no shame left in her eyes, only a dark acceptance. She got to her feet with difficulty, adjusting the tatters of her gray skirt with a new and macabre dignity. She walked to Renata and held out her hand to help her up.

—Lucía will never know anything —she declared, looking at her and then at me—. What happened beneath the portrait of the ancestors stays with them.

Renata nodded in silence, accepting her place in that new order. I walked to the front door and locked it, sealing the fate of the three of us. The sun finally rose and lit the family portraits, which seemed to smile at the return of their true nature to the walls of the house.