My niece came back home and took what she wanted

I hadn’t seen Carla in eight years when she showed up at my front door with a suitcase and a smile I didn’t remember on the little girl I had stood godfather to at her baptism. She had gotten married three weeks earlier, at a wedding I hadn’t been invited to because of one of those family messes that are never really sorted out, and she had decided to spend a few days with me before settling in with her husband in another city.

—You’ve grown up —I said, still with my hand on the doorknob.

—And you’re still the same, godfather —she replied, and brushed past me, her arm grazing mine more than necessary.

Carla was thirty-two, small and slight, but with hips and breasts that pushed beyond her frame. She moved through the living room as if the house were hers, looking at everything, touching everything, letting her perfume hang in every room she passed through. I watched her from the kitchen while I put together some dinner, and I couldn’t help thinking there was nothing left of the little girl I once held over the baptismal font.

That first night we had dinner, talked about her mother —my sister, with whom I barely spoke— and about her husband, whom she mentioned little and without much enthusiasm. Every so often she laughed, leaned over the table, and let me see more than a niece ought to show her uncle.

This isn’t going to end well, I thought. And even so I did nothing to stop it.

***

The next day, while she was in the shower, I remembered Mariana and went to get my phone from the bedroom. Mariana was a woman I had met at another wedding, also married, and who had not stopped texting me since then. I had several unanswered messages.

“Hi. Aren’t you answering me?”

A minute later.

“You’re ignoring me now. Is that one from the wedding with you?”

After a long while, she had written again.

“You’re an asshole.”

And then, as if she couldn’t hold back.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night at the hotel. About the way you did me.”

The last one simply said: “You’re a shameless bastard.”

It made me laugh. Barely married and, instead of enjoying her husband, she was wasting her time teasing me from afar. What should I answer? If I told her I was with someone else, she’d get jealous. If I made up an excuse, she’d calm down but keep gnawing on the doubt. I decided on the second option halfway, just enough to keep her hanging, and left the phone face down on the bed.

When I turned around, the bathroom door was opening. Carla came out wrapped in a towel, wet hair stuck to her shoulders and skin still warm from the water.

—You showered again? —I asked, puzzled, because she had already done it in the morning.

—Yes —she said, with a crooked smile—. I needed to cool off. I was too hot.

She came closer slowly, holding my gaze, and let the towel fall to the floor without a trace of modesty. She stayed there, naked in the middle of the bedroom, waiting to see how I would react.

—Fuck, Carla —I muttered.

—Do you like me? —she asked, and there was a mix of provocation and genuine need to hear the answer.

I didn’t answer. She pressed her body against mine and looped her arms around my neck. I felt her breasts flatten against my T-shirt, her nipples hard, the damp heat of her skin seeping through the fabric. She was my niece. The girl I had stood godfather to. And yet I grabbed her ass with both hands and hauled her up until she wrapped her legs around my hips.

—Fuck me, godfather —she whispered against my ear, biting my earlobe—. Fuck your goddaughter.

***

I kissed her and there was no need to say anything else. She took my hand, guided it down, and a second later let herself drop onto me, taking me in all at once. She let out a long, rough moan that ran all the way down my spine.

At first she began moving slowly, rocking, and then faster and faster, reaching for my mouth with an urgency that was anything but innocent. We kissed like two rutting animals: she pushed her tongue in and I trapped it, my own tongue slid into her mouth and she bit and sucked it without end.

Standing in the middle of the bedroom, I held her against me while she rose and fell. I spread her ass with my hands, stroked the edge of her cunt with my thumbs, and thrust up into her every time she dropped down.

—Like that, uncle —she panted—. Harder.

That word, “uncle,” hit me like punishment. She was the girl I had watched grow up in the photos her mother sent at Christmas. But the feel of her skin, the constant brush of her breasts against my face, and the pressure of her tight sex against mine forced me to keep going, to do what she asked without letting myself think.

Her legs crossed behind my back were enough to hold her, so I stopped supporting her and drove up into her with all my strength.

—Huff, huff, huff —she panted every time I went all the way in.

—Keep going, keep going —she begged, her mouth pressed to my ear—. Don’t stop.

She clung to my neck like a limpet, rubbing her tits against my face, dropping down all at once so I would sink deeper into her. She’d had years of short marriages and affairs —she had made that clear the night before—, but her body fit mine in a way that tore a pleasure from me I didn’t remember ever feeling.

—Put it in all the way —she sighed, almost out of breath—. Split me open.

She pushed herself up on my shoulders to rise a little and put one nipple to my lips. I didn’t hesitate: I caught it between my teeth and squeezed.

—There, there —she asked, instead of complaining—. Eat my tits.

I kept her hanging, my cock brushing against her, while I bit one breast and then the other. Suddenly she turned my face toward her and gave me a long, filthy kiss, all saliva and teeth.

—Do you know you’re a pig? —she asked, catching me off guard.

I didn’t know what to answer. She answered herself.

—My mother always said you were a pig. That you screwed around with her friends.

Between one phrase and the next she moaned, and I moved my mouth from one breast to the other.

—But I know she said it out of jealousy —she went on, pushing them against my lips—. Because she couldn’t have you.

My niece threw me off balance with every word. She was brazen, indecent, and everything she said made me hotter.

***

All at once she dropped hard, driving herself in to the hilt, and threw her head back.

—Yes —she moaned—. My mother would’ve loved it if you’d put it in her like that. Did you do it like this with them?

She picked up the motion again, bouncing on me, taking me in over and over without stopping her moans or the words she breathed into my ear.

—That’s the kind of one my mother needed —she said between gasps.

I knew she was saying it to provoke me, that she was looking for the limit, and the worst part was that she found it. Every word from her pushed me a little farther.

—Think you’re fucking her —she let out, looking me in the eyes—. Imagine it. Fuck me harder.

Something inside me went cloudy. I lifted her by the ass and let her drop at the same time I drove upward, slamming into her with everything I had.

—You’re going to break me —she moaned, and it didn’t sound like a complaint—. Is that how you’d do my mother?

She was my niece. I hadn’t seen her in eight years and I was fucking her like a savage in the middle of my bedroom, while she talked to me about my sister to turn me on even more.

—Take it —I panted, ramming her against me.

—Keep going, keep going —she repeated—. You want it more than I do.

The girl knew exactly which buttons to press, and she pressed them all. Her cunt was dripping so badly that every time our bodies crashed together, there was a wet smack filling the room.

—You’re as provocative as your mother used to say —I blurted, to let off steam.

—Yes —she answered, looking at me shamelessly—. I am, and I admit it. She is too, and she hides it.

She left me thinking. Was it true what she said, or just another way to heat me up? My sister had always been a saint, someone who had never done anything to be ashamed of, at least as far as I knew. But it didn’t matter anymore. At that moment there was no room in my head for anything but Carla’s body pressed against mine.

After several more thrusts, she pressed against my chest and let out a moan so long and so loud I feared it could be heard from the street. Her hips shook as if she couldn’t control them, clenching around me, refusing to let me go.

—Now, now, now —she babbled—. God. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

She stayed trembling, her face buried in my neck, until the last spasm left her limp in my arms.

—So good —she murmured, still short of breath.

***

I lowered her slowly, held her until her legs worked again, then gently pushed her down to her knees in front of me. I took her hair in my hand, not hard, just enough, and she understood immediately. She opened her mouth before I said a word.

—Finish what you started —I told her.

She did it without taking her eyes off mine. She sucked me slowly, savoring it, gathering her own taste along my length with her tongue. With one hand she stroked me while her tongue drew circles around the tip.

—You’re horny, aren’t you, godfather? —she said, pulling back for a second, with that bad-girl smile that never left her.

—Shut up and keep going —I answered.

And she did. The way she did it. She was obscene, shameless, utterly immodest, and it was a pleasure to watch her. It didn’t take long before I knew I couldn’t hold on any longer; I warned her with a growl and she, far from pulling away, tightened her mouth and held my gaze until the end, swallowing everything without spilling a drop.

She rose slowly, wiped the corner of her lips with the back of her hand, and flopped onto the bed beside me, satisfied as a cat in the sun.

—Tomorrow I’m leaving with my husband —she said, staring at the ceiling.

—I know.

—But I still have two nights here. —She turned her head and pinned me with her eyes—. And I’m going to make the most of all of them, godfather.

I picked up the phone from the nightstand. Mariana had written again, another string of reproaches and teases that no longer meant anything to me. I switched it off without answering and set it face down again.

I had my naked niece in my bed, freshly married, telling me how many days she had left with me like someone counting loot. I knew perfectly well that none of this should be happening, that it was madness leading nowhere good. But as she reached for my hand again and settled against my side, I knew I was going to let her spend the two nights. And probably a few more.