My Mother-in-Law Saw Me from the Hallway and Didn’t Look Away

I don’t usually write about what happens to me, but three weeks ago something happened that I need to get out of me, and this seemed like the right place. I’m telling it as I remember it, with the details that haven’t left my head since.

My name is Diego, I’m twenty-eight, and I work night logistics. My wife, Mariana, is seven months pregnant, and for the past couple of weeks her mother came to stay with us to help out around the house. Mariana still goes to her office two or three times a week, and my mother-in-law Beatriz stays behind ironing, cooking, and tidying up whatever mess we leave behind.

Beatriz is a small woman, not even five feet tall, but she has that kind of body that clothes always manage to hide. Generous breasts, already a little worn by the years, a short waist, and hips that make you look up from your phone without meaning to when she walks through the kitchen. She’s fifty-six and has a dry sense of humor I liked from day one.

I start my shift at eleven at night and get home after seven in the morning. Mariana was always already awake by then, and Beatriz was making coffee. That routine made me feel safe: the three of us would have breakfast, I’d go upstairs to sleep, and when I woke up in the middle of the afternoon my wife would already be back from work.

The fourth day was different.

Mariana had an errand with a client and left before I got there. When I came through the door, the house was silent. The only thing you could hear was the sound of water running in the upstairs bathroom. I went up, left my keys on the bedside table, and knocked softly on the bathroom door.

—Good morning, ma’am, I’m home.

I always called her ma’am. Before I married her daughter and after, too. It’s just a habit for me, and she seems to like it.

—Son, that’s good —she answered from inside, her voice muffled by the steam—. I’ll make you breakfast in five minutes.

—Don’t worry, I’m going straight to sleep.

—None of that. Eat something first. I’m coming out right away.

I sat on the edge of the bed to wait. She took less time than I expected. The door opened and she came out wrapped in a short white terry-cloth robe, her hair still damp and gathered into a smaller towel. She kissed my cheek, asked how the night had been, and went downstairs to the kitchen without going to her room to get dressed.

The robe covered everything, but barely. Every time she stretched, the hem moved up a couple of inches.

I followed her and sat at the dining table while she moved between the coffee maker and the pan. I asked if she needed help; she said no. We talked about stupid things, traffic, a cousin of Mariana’s who was getting married. At some point she dropped a spatula on the floor.

—I’ll pick it up, ma’am, don’t bend down.

But she had already bent down. And when she did, the robe rode all the way up. It wasn’t a glimpse. It was a full-on view.

***

Her ass was wider than her clothes suggested, white, with a soft tan line high on the thighs. The robe had climbed up to her waist and, when she straightened, the fabric stayed caught for one more second. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

Beatriz turned, saw my face, and quickly adjusted the robe with her hands. She turned red from her neck all the way up to her forehead.

—Oh, son, I’m so embarrassed. Really, forgive me, I didn’t mean to.

—Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re close, it’s not like some stranger saw you.

I smiled and she gave me a nervous smile back. She served breakfast, we ate without talking much, I thanked her, and went upstairs.

But that image wouldn’t go away.

I got into bed, closed the curtains, and tried to sleep. I couldn’t. The exhaustion from my shift weighed on my eyelids, but everything downstairs felt awake. I thought jerking off would help me switch off faster. I started slowly, remembering what I’d seen.

And then a stupid, dangerous idea crossed my mind.

I got up, opened the bedroom door, let it swing until it was left ajar, and went back to bed. I settled on the side visible from the hallway. Anyone coming up the stairs and looking in would see me. I closed my eyes, but only halfway, just enough to make out movement.

I started again, slower.

***

A few minutes passed. I heard the coffee maker downstairs, the faucet, footsteps on the stairs. When Beatriz came up and passed my door, she stopped dead.

She didn’t come in. She didn’t speak. She didn’t leave either.

She stayed there in the doorway, looking at me. I knew it because I felt the change in the air, that thick stillness that settles in when someone is watching you. I kept going, pretending not to notice, but my breathing had picked up and my pulse was thudding in my temples.

I expected her to come in. To say something. To touch herself from the doorway, like in the videos I used to watch sometimes. But she did nothing, just watched. And somehow that was worse. Or better.

I came with a hard, sudden jerk that even surprised me. It landed on my chest, warm. When I opened my eyes all the way, she was already slipping into her room. She didn’t close the door all the way.

That half-open door was an invitation.

I got up as I was, without covering myself, and walked down the hallway. When I passed her room, I saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her hands. She lifted her head, saw me naked, and I gave a fake start. I covered myself with both hands.

—Sorry, ma’am, I thought you were still downstairs.

Her voice came out broken.

—Don’t worry, son. It’s fine. It’s your house, make yourself at home.

—I was actually going to ask you for a favor. Do you have any wet wipes? I made a mess.

—Yes, of course. Here on the nightstand. Wait, I’ll bring them to you.

—Don’t bother, I’ll get them.

I went in slowly. I lowered my hands. My penis was still halfway up, still sensitive. I took the pack of wipes that was next to the alarm clock and, instead of leaving, I stayed there, standing beside her bed, wiping my chest in front of her. Beatriz didn’t look away once.

I had no idea where I was getting the nerve. It was like somebody else was driving my body.

—Ma’am, can I ask you something?

—Whatever you want.

—Did you like what you just saw in my room?

***

She took a while to answer. She lowered her eyes to my groin, brought them back up, then down again. Her cheeks were burning.

—It’s been a long time since I felt anything like that —she said at last, very softly—. My husband and I stopped years ago. I thought that was never going to happen to me again.

—And today?

—Today my heart started racing when I saw you. I wanted to come upstairs to your room and… —she broke off and put a hand to her mouth—. No, I shouldn’t say that.

—Tell me.

—I wanted to kneel by the bed. And do it myself. But I can’t, you’re my son-in-law. It’s wrong.

—Nobody’s going to know, ma’am. Nobody. Just tell me what you want.

She didn’t answer with words. She stretched out her hand and took me by the hip. I put mine on the back of her neck, without squeezing, and guided her forward. Beatriz closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and my penis hardened again against her tongue before it was even all the way in.

—Like that, mother-in-law —I let slip—. Like that.

She pulled back for a second, her chin slick with saliva.

—Call me that. Call me mother-in-law. Don’t call me ma’am now, call me mother-in-law.

—As you wish, mother-in-law.

She took me back in. She was good. Not in the clumsy way of someone improvising, but in the patient way of someone who knows what she’s doing and hasn’t done it in a long time. She would choke herself on purpose, breathe through her nose, then go back to it. I grabbed the headboard because my legs were starting to go weak.

I lifted her carefully, opened her robe, and let it fall to the floor. Her body was firmer than it looked: heavy breasts with large dark nipples, a stomach only slightly soft, wide hips, pubic hair trimmed close. I bit one nipple until she arched her back.

—Don’t stop —she begged—. Don’t stop.

I laid her on her back on her own bed and went down. I kissed her navel, her hips, the inner part of her thighs. When I got between her legs, I found her soaked. She started twisting from the first movement of my tongue.

—My husband never did this to me —she said, her voice breaking—. He never wanted to. I liked it so much and he never wanted to.

—Today you’re getting your revenge, mother-in-law.

I worked slowly, alternating tongue and fingers, until her legs started trembling and she came out with a cry she had to cover with her palm. I felt the hot spray against my chin. Mariana had never been able to do that. Never.

—Fuck me —she ordered after that, still breathless—. Fuck me now.

***

I got on top and went in slowly. She dug her heels into my lower back and drove me all the way in. We started missionary, looking each other in the eyes, and then I asked her to turn over. I put her on all fours with her head resting on the pillow.

—That’s how your daughter likes it —I told her, almost without thinking.

—Show me everything you do to her —she answered—. And do to me what you still haven’t done to her.

That sentence hit me like a short circuit.

I bit one of her ass cheeks, gave her a couple of spanks that sounded in the hallway, and went back in. I grabbed her hair from the base of her neck, not hard, just enough for her to feel my hand. Beatriz murmured things that couldn’t be made out completely, broken words, requests that trailed off halfway.

I lay back on my own back.

—Now get on top —I asked her—. I want the dessert you almost gave me at breakfast.

She sat on my face carefully, bracing one hand against the wall. I licked her from below, all of it, without thinking too much about what my tongue was touching. She was grinding against me with her eyes closed, and when I saw she was close again I lifted her by the thighs and put her back on all fours.

This time I went all the way. When I was about to come, I pulled out and put it somewhere else. Beatriz moaned loudly, surprised at first, then determined. Mariana had never wanted that. Her mother hadn’t either, according to what she confessed to me later; but that morning she did, with her son-in-law, in the guest bed, in the filtered light coming through the curtains. I finished inside, and when I pulled out, I knelt beside the bed and scooped it up with two fingers. I brought them to her mouth without saying anything.

She opened her lips.

***

I showered in the other bathroom, the one downstairs, and went to sleep. I slept five hours straight, which I hadn’t managed in three months. When I woke up, Mariana was already home and Beatriz was making dinner. They both greeted me at the same time, and my mother-in-law didn’t even lift her eyes from the knife she was using to cut the onion.

That was three weeks ago. Mariana has had to go to the office three more times, and every time the same thing has happened again in the morning. Beatriz is staying until the baby is born, and I keep getting up at the same hour.

Just in case, my bedroom door always stays slightly open.