My Older Sisters Came Back and Nothing Was the Same

They arrived after midnight. I heard the key turning in the lock and knew it was them before I even got up from the couch. It had been five months since I’d seen them, and I felt, without really knowing why, that that night my body was reacting differently.

I opened the door and the first one in was Lucía. Twenty-five years old, short copper-colored dress, fishnet stockings climbing up to where the fabric disappeared, high boots clacking against the parquet. Behind her came Camila, two years younger, in an even tighter black dress and a different perfume, sweeter, more insistent. They both looked like they’d just stepped out of an ad. Not from a trip home.

—Adrián, my love… —Lucía dropped the suitcases, opened her arms, and held me against her for a second longer than necessary.

Camila joined in from the other side. I felt the two perfumes mixing and the heat of two bodies against mine. One of them slid a hand slowly down my back. I don’t know which one. I didn’t ask either.

—Look how big you’ve gotten —Camila said, pulling back to look at me—. Eighteen suits you, little brother.

Don’t look at them like that. They’re your sisters.

I carried the suitcases up behind them. The stairs were narrow and I was one step below, my eyes fixed exactly where they shouldn’t have been. The netting of Lucía’s stockings showed in every movement, and Camila’s dress was so short that every step seemed like an involuntary provocation. I shook my head on the landing, set the suitcases down, and went downstairs to the kitchen before I did something even more stupid than look.

We ate something improvised on the island. They had both changed, but loungewear didn’t help either: white tank top, black bra showing underneath, tiny shorts on one; fitted top and microscopic shorts on the other. They talked about Madrid, about the master’s program, about the months away. I nodded and tried not to look at the line the netting drew over their thighs when they crossed their legs on the stools.

—I’m going to bed —I lied as soon as I could—. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.

I locked myself in my room and lay there staring at the ceiling. Downstairs I could hear their soft laughter. What the fuck is happening to me?

***

The next morning I came down late, thinking it would be easier in daylight. It wasn’t.

Camila was on the big couch, legs stretched out, feet still wrapped in the stockings from the night before. She pouted the moment she saw me appear.

—Adri… —she said in that voice she used as a kid to get things—. Can you do me a huge favor? My calves are killing me. The flight was endless and I only slept two hours. A little massage, please?

—Uh… yeah, sure.

I sat down in front of her and she put her feet on my lap without asking. I started at the instep, with my thumbs making slow circles. Camila let out a soft moan of relief and closed her eyes.

—Oh, yes… right there. Harder.

I worked my way gradually up to her calves. The netting was so fine it felt like I was touching skin directly, and the skin underneath was warm. Every time I pressed a tight spot, she sighed. I kept trying to look at my hands and nothing else, but her shorts had ridden up and the top of her thigh kept appearing and disappearing with every breath she took.

It’s a massage. She asked for it because her legs hurt. It’s Camila.

—You’ve got magic hands, little brother —she murmured without opening her eyes.

When I finished, she sat up and hugged me from the couch. Her breasts pressed against my chest a second longer than was decent. I pulled away as best I could, went up the stairs almost running, and locked myself in my room with my palms still hot.

In the afternoon it was Lucía. She appeared in the kitchen while I was washing two dishes, wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, and rested her chin on my shoulder.

—I saw how you left your sister. My legs hurt too, you know.

This time it was worse. Lucía wasn’t as transparent as Camila: when I massaged her calves, the moans were deeper, longer. She asked me to move a little higher. I did. She asked for more. I moved higher still. My palms stopped a hand’s breadth away from where they shouldn’t go, and my fingers were trembling. She thanked me with another hug that lasted too long. I went back to my room with an erection that took half an hour to go down and guilt that took much longer.

***

I started avoiding them. I went for runs before they got up, ate quickly, made up exams that didn’t exist. But the house wasn’t endless and, slowly, they started noticing.

—Adri, are you okay? —Lucía asked during dinner on the third day—. We barely see you. Did we do something?

—No. Just school stuff —I lied, staring at my plate.

That same night, Camila came downstairs with a bottle of wine and three glasses. She had decided without asking anyone.

—Truth or dare —she announced—. Like when we were kids. Nothing heavy, I promise.

I didn’t know how to say no. I sat in the armchair, they sat on the couch, glasses poured with a finger’s worth of wine. Innocent questions, stupid dares. Lucía dancing ridiculously. Camila singing in falsetto. Me admitting I still hadn’t kissed anyone since I was eighteen. The two of them letting out affectionate little “awws.” It was all familiar. All known.

Until Camila chose dare and I told her, without thinking too much, to let me give her another foot massage for five minutes straight while we kept playing. She agreed instantly. While I pressed her calves with one hand and answered truths with the other, I felt Lucía’s eyes fixed on us from the other end of the couch.

The game ended at 11:30. Camila messed up my hair as she said goodnight, just like always.

—Good night, little brother.

Lucía didn’t say anything. She just kept looking at me.

***

She knocked on my bedroom door half an hour later. I knew it before she said anything.

—Are you awake?

—Come in.

She came in wearing the same white tank top, the same shorts, the same black bra peeking out. She closed the door slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, near my legs.

—Adri, I’ve known you since you were born. Something’s wrong. If we’re making you uncomfortable with the hugs, the massages, the way we move around the house, tell me. We don’t want to make you feel weird.

She rested a hand on my knee over the sheet. It was a sister’s gesture. Nothing more. And even so I felt the heat rise.

—It’s just that you changed —I muttered בלי looking at her—. Both of you. And I still feel like the twelve-year-old kid. I’m embarrassed.

She leaned in to hear me better and the tank top shifted. She didn’t do it on purpose. That was the worst part.

—You’re a man —she said softly—. To us you’ll always be our baby, but now the three of us are adults. If you want to tell me anything, anything at all, I won’t judge you.

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her anything.

She gave me a slow hug before leaving. Her breasts pressed against mine through the fabric and she stayed there two seconds longer than a sister’s hug needs. When she closed the door, I covered my face with the pillow and let out a groan into the cotton.

***

Two weeks passed. Two weeks of half-avoiding them, of passing each other in the hallway, of sharing series with them pressed against me on the couch, of silent meals. Every time Camila crossed her legs and the netting gleamed, every time Lucía bent down for something and the tank top gave way, my head went back to the massages, to the couch, to the hug in the bedroom.

The fourth night, Lucía came down with the bottle of wine again. This time the glass was half full.

—We need to finish the game —she said—. No more excuses, Adri.

Camila was already on the big couch in the black top, fishnet stockings, and no shorts. Just a plain black panty underneath. I sat between the two of them. The couch had never felt so small.

First dare: Lucía had to sit on my lap for three questions. She settled sideways across my thighs, all her weight resting on my crotch, her breasts at face level, her perfume once again short-circuiting my brain. When she got up, she held my gaze a second too long.

—You’re getting nervous, little brother —she murmured without cruelty. Just an observation.

Camila chose dare and Lucía told her to stay in only her bra. She slipped off the top without hesitation. Black bra, stockings halfway up her thighs, gooseflesh from the cool air.

Then it was my turn to ask for a dare and I chose badly: I asked Lucía to sit on me again, but this time facing me while I massaged her calves. She straddled me, feet on the couch, thighs open on either side of my hips. My hands traveled up the inner side of her thighs to where the netting ended. The bare skin burned. When my thumbs brushed the last strip of fabric, she let out a low, long moan.

—Mmm… there, Adri. A little higher.

My erection was already impossible to hide. Lucía felt it. I knew because of the way she bit her lip and stayed still for a second, not getting up.

—Adri… —she whispered, in a voice I’d never heard from her before—. You’re so hard. Is it because of us?

Camila came closer from the other side. Her hand slid down my chest with a slowness that had nothing innocent about it.

—Do we turn you on, little brother? —she asked softly—. We’ve never seen you like this.

I wanted to disappear. I wanted the floor to open up. But my hips pushed up against Lucía on their own, and my hands were still on her inner thighs, and guilt and desire were mixing into a knot so tight I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

—I… sorry. You’re my sisters.

Lucía didn’t get up. On the contrary: she settled herself better, made my erection press firmer against her through the thin fabric, and let out a sigh that ended in a moan.

—Shh… it’s the wine. It’s the game. But it feels weirdly good.

Camila kissed my neck, slowly, until she reached my earlobe.

—Do you want us to stop? —she murmured—. If you like it, don’t hide it anymore.

I shook my head, eyes closed. I didn’t want them to stop. For the first time in three weeks, I didn’t want them to stop.

***

Lucía kissed me. It was a slow, deep kiss, tasting of wine and years of looking at each other without permission. Her tongue was shy at first. Then hungry. Her hips drew slow circles on me while Camila’s mouth moved down my neck.

—Let’s go to my room —Lucía panted against my mouth—. Not here.

We went up the stairs all three of us in silence, only our breathing audible. Lucía locked the door and turned on only the bedside lamp. The big bed, the white sheets, the golden light.

They took my shirt off between them, their hands running over my chest with a reverence that scared me. Camila knelt and slowly pulled my pants and boxers down, unbearable in its slowness, leaving my erection free, hard, throbbing. They both looked at it at the same time, dark eyes full of something that wasn’t sisterly affection.

—You’re beautiful —Camila whispered, her breath brushing the tip.

The three of us got under the sheets. Lucía took off her bra and panties without showing her head from the fabric, remaining only in black fishnet stockings halfway up her thighs. Camila did the same. I felt the netting brush against my legs and knew I would remember that friction for the rest of my life.

Lucía on the left, Camila on the right. Soft breasts pressed against my sides, hard nipples marking my skin. We kissed in a circle: first me with Lucía while Camila kissed my neck and down my chest; then me with Camila while Lucía licked one of my nipples. My hands disappeared under the sheets and found, at the same time, two different heats.

—Touch me —Lucía asked, guiding my hand between her legs.

She was soaked. My fingers brushed her swollen, slippery lips and she arched her back with a long, broken moan. Camila, meanwhile, wrapped her hand around me, sliding her thumb over the wet head with a caress that made me close my eyes.

—So hot… —she murmured—. So hard for us.

Lucía climbed on top first. She sank down slowly, guiding me with her hand until the tip found the heat. And then, centimeter by centimeter, I buried myself in her. Tight, burning, perfect. She let out a trembling moan against my neck.

—I feel you so deep… —she sighed.

She started moving with slow, deep undulations, the fishnet stockings brushing my sides with every sway. Camila pressed herself against us, kissing my jaw while I searched for her clit with my fingers and found her rhythm. It wasn’t wild sex. It was something more intimate, slower, forbidden. The wet sound of bodies joining, the muffled moans against the pillow, the perfume mixed with sweat and wine.

Then we switched. Camila settled over me with the same agonizing slowness, while Lucía pressed against her back and kissed her neck, their hands crossing between the two of them. They both moaned in unison, their soft, low voices filling the room.

When I felt I couldn’t hold on any longer, I pulled them both against me. Camila came first, stifling her cry against my neck. Lucía a moment later, tightening the fingers I had buried in her. And I last, emptying myself inside Camila with a shudder that left me breathless.

The three of us stayed tangled under the sheets. The fishnet stockings still brushing my legs. Soft breathing against skin.

—This was inevitable, wasn’t it? —Lucía whispered against my chest.

Camila smiled against my neck, not answering.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, guilt and pleasure mixed in equal parts, the bodies of my two older sisters still trembling against mine. And somewhere, before closing my eyes, I knew I was going to want that night to happen again.