My Sister Asked Me to Take Some Photos of Her

My name is Andrés. I’m thirty-four years old and I’m a photographer. Twelve years ago I left this town on the Almería coast for Barcelona, where I built myself a quiet life: assignments for magazines, short trips, a tiny flat in Gràcia that smells of coffee and developing chemicals.

My parents stayed here, among narrow streets that still smell of salt and jasmine, with the sea breathing in the background. Contact faded away, as it always does: brief visits every two months, messages with photos of food and emojis. But this summer a project fell through, I ended up with ten free days, and my mother kept insisting the house felt too empty now that Nerea, my little sister, had stopped being a girl.

I arrived on a Friday afternoon. My father picked me up at the station and drove in silence, as if the years had stripped us of all the words we had left over. When we turned the last bend, my parents’ white villa came into view, right on the beachfront, huge windows reflecting the orange sunset on the water. The door was ajar. Laughter came from the back patio: voices of girls, young, carefree.

Curiosity gripped my stomach like an invisible hand.

I’ve had a girlfriend for eight years. Lucía. She’s the only girl I’ve ever been with, and I’m the same for her. We met as teenagers, loyal to the extreme, no rush, no exceptions. This time we were going to spend almost two weeks apart; over the phone she had told me the bed felt cold without me, and I answered the same, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be.

I crossed toward the patio following the laughter. There was Nerea, my little sister who was no longer little at all: tanned, laughing with a friend I’d never seen before. The stranger looked up, smiled at me with a mix of curiosity and brazenness, and something inside me shifted, as if the summer air had just turned hotter.

—Andrés! Finally! —Nerea shouted, throwing herself at me with such force she almost pushed me back.

She smelled of sunscreen and something sweet. I felt her body against mine: warm, soft, definitely adult. I hugged her back carefully, my hands barely resting on her back.

—Hi, shorty —I murmured—. You’re… huge.

—Don’t call me shorty, idiot. I’m twenty now —she said, laughing and punching my chest lightly—. Now that we’re both adults, we can talk about grown-up things, right?

She said it innocently, but she bit her lower lip for a second and my mouth went dry. She introduced me to the other girl, Carla, her best friend: short blonde hair tousled by the breeze, brown skin, a tight top and short shorts that showed off long legs. She planted two kisses on me so close to the corner of my mouth I felt the brush of her lips.

—Nice to meet you, Andrés —she said, almost sing-song—. Nerea doesn’t stop talking about you. About the handsome brother who went to Barcelona with his camera.

I went red to my ears. They both laughed, and I knew, without really knowing why, that those ten days weren’t going to be anything like I’d imagined.

***

Dinner was like always: the big table under the pergola, the smell of grilled meat, my father uncorking a local red. But I couldn’t stop noticing how Nerea’s short dress rode up when she leaned over, or the way Carla’s top clung in the heat.

—Tell us, Andrés —my father said—. Are you still taking pictures of pretty models?

Everyone laughed. Carla leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes shining.

—And does your girlfriend let you, or is she the jealous type? —she asked with fake innocence—. Because if I were her and I knew you were surrounded by girls all day, I’d make sure nothing tempted you when you got home.

Nerea burst out laughing and slapped her on the arm.

—Carla, don’t be such a pain! My brother’s a saint. Right, Andrés? —She looked straight at me, with a smile that made my stomach twist—. I’m sure he has a great time with Lucía.

I muttered something incoherent and changed the subject. But every time I looked up, I found Nerea’s blue eyes fixed on me, or Carla’s smile, which seemed to know more than she was saying.

***

The next day they dragged me to the garden pool. I was wearing a regular pair of swim trunks, long to the thigh. They, on the other hand, came out of the changing room and pinned me to the sun lounger. Nerea was wearing a tiny black bikini, one of those trendy ones, with the bottom half-thong, leaving almost everything bare. Carla went in fire-red, same style, molding to her brown skin. Young, natural bodies, with a confidence that left my throat dry.

Nerea was the first to jump into the water. She came out laughing, her hair stuck to her back, and came over to hug me dripping wet, chest against chest, kissing my cheek again and again, very close to my mouth.

—Come in the water, don’t be boring! Relax, we’re at home… and we’re grown now, right?

Carla came out behind her and hugged me from behind, her wet body sticking to mine.

—Come on, Andrés, nobody bites here —she said, her voice hoarse—. Or they do, but only if you want them to.

The morning went on like that: splashes, “innocent” hugs that lasted a second too long, hands lingering on waists longer than necessary. I tried not to look too much. I really did. But every time I looked away, I found one of their eyes fixed on me, as if they knew exactly how hard it was for me to keep my composure.

***

That night, after my parents went to bed, Nerea walked into my room without waiting for an answer, like she used to when she was little. She was wearing short cotton pajamas, a thin T-shirt without a bra and shorts that rode up when she moved. She sat on the edge of my bed.

—Andrés… Carla and I have been wanting to get some really good photos for social media for a while. But the photographers we looked at are expensive and they make us uncomfortable: they always look at us with that face like they want something more, you know?

I nodded, swallowing. She put her hand on my knee, over the sheet. The contact was electric.

—And then I thought of you. You’re a real photographer, and you’re my brother. With you I’d feel safe. There wouldn’t be any weird looks. Just pretty photos. —She lowered her voice—. We haven’t spent real time together in ages. It would be a nice way to catch up.

—Let me think about it —I murmured, my voice rougher than I wanted—. We’ll talk tomorrow.

She smiled, leaned in and kissed my cheek, her lips brushing the corner of my mouth for a second too long before she left, swaying her hips.

She was my little sister. The girl who used to ask me for Barcelona ice cream. How could I think about her like that? I repeated the mantra all night, but the heat in my stomach didn’t go away. And I knew, in the dark, that I was going to say yes.

***

That same afternoon, with my parents out, I went down to the garden with the camera and tripod. We started slowly: they sat on the edge of the pool, shirts open to reveal the bikinis, laughing under their breath. The evening sun gilded them. Click. Click. I focused on the light, on the framing, repeating to myself that they were just photos, even though every shot made that lie sound a little hollower.

Little by little, the poses changed. They took off their shirts. Just bikinis and shorts now, sweat shining on their necks, on their stomachs. Nerea hugged Carla from behind, their chins brushing, laughing at something I didn’t catch. And every few minutes they came over to me, pressed themselves beside me, warm, damp bodies brushing my arm, asking, “How do we look?”, “Do you like us?”

—It’s too hot to stand it —Nerea said after a while, wiping her forehead—. What if we do the photos now in bikinis, in the water? We’ve got a pro, after all.

—If you’re comfortable, go ahead —I answered, my finger frozen on the shutter—. Just normal photos, okay?

But the poses became something else. Nerea bent over to “adjust” a towel, the thong cutting into her pale skin. Carla arched her back against the red triangles. They whispered to each other, laughed, and every so often one of them would turn her head and pin me with her eyes over her shoulder, with a smile that said, “Do you like what you see?” They were not innocent. They knew the effect they were having and they enjoyed it. And one of them was my sister.

—You can see us from the street out here —Nerea said at last—. What if we go inside to the living room? We’re alone, and the sunset light comes in perfectly.

***

The living room was silent, just the hum of the air conditioner and the murmur of the sea. Things continued, but the air was already charged. Nerea posed seriously, focused like a real model, when the strap of her bikini slipped a little. The triangle dropped just enough for the edge of her areola to show, a little pink point gleaming with sweat under the golden light. She didn’t flinch. She kept posing as if she didn’t notice a thing, and I stood frozen, unable to tear my gaze away from that innocent and forbidden accident.

Carla played a different game. She lifted her arms slowly, let the red straps fall without hurry and took the top off completely, breasts bare, dark hard nipples pointing at me.

—Oops… it slipped —she said with a hoarse little laugh—. Does that bother you? Or would you rather I keep it like this so the light hits me better?

And then it happened. I’d been hard for a while, but there was no way to hide it anymore: the fabric pulled taut all at once, the erection clearly showing. Carla saw it first. She bit her lip, whispered something to Nerea, and they both looked at the same time.

Nerea lowered her eyes to my crotch and her expression changed: surprise, then sisterly anger. She crossed her arms, still with the straps fallen down.

—Seriously, Andrés? —she spat, red with embarrassment—. Are you getting hard watching me pose? I’m your sister, for fuck’s sake! Does this turn you on?

—Nerea… I… it’s the heat, the shoot, I didn’t mean to —I stammered, unable to hold her gaze—. I don’t see you like that. You’re my sister. I’m sorry.

She let out a short, nervous laugh, but the anger was starting to blend with something else, a curious glint I’d never seen before.

—Well, your cock doesn’t agree —she said more quietly, sharper.

***

Carla came up behind me, her naked body pressed to my back, her chin resting on my shoulder. Her hands slid slowly down my sides.

—Don’t be so hard on your brother —she told Nerea, while her fingers brushed the taut fabric over my trunks—. Look how cute he is, all red. He just needs to relax a bit. Right, Andrés? How long has it been since you came?

Nerea lowered her arms. Her eyes never left Carla’s hand. She took a step back without realizing it until her back hit the sofa, and sat down slowly, her chest rising and falling quickly.

—Don’t take his trunks down yet —she murmured, her voice trembling but her gaze still fixed—. I want to see… how hard he gets.

—No… Carla, stop —I said, almost voiceless—. I have a girlfriend. Lucía. I’m faithful. I’ve never been with anyone else. And Nerea is right here. I can’t.

Carla gave a soft laugh, never stopping her stroking.

—Lucía won’t find out. And your sister isn’t as innocent as you think. She’s been talking about you for weeks. —She slid her hand inside my trunks, her fingers wrapping around me directly—. It wouldn’t be our first threesome, you know? This is a unique opportunity, Andrés. Don’t waste it.

Nerea let out a low moan from the sofa, her arms lowering a little, one hand already slipping into the inside of her bikini bottom. She said nothing. She just watched, legs pressed together as if she were trying to contain a shiver.

I closed my eyes. I can’t. I mustn’t. But I didn’t move. I didn’t push her away. And deep down, part of me didn’t want her to stop.

***

Carla knelt in front of me, pulled down my trunks centimeter by centimeter and let out a sigh of admiration before leaning in. Her tongue flat at first, licking from the base, slow, and then her mouth around the tip, taking me down slowly, unhurried, with a wet sound that filled the living room. I just panted, not knowing where to put my hands.

But my eyes kept going back to the sofa again and again. Nerea was there, legs open, her hand inside the black bikini bottom, fingers moving in slow circles. Her breasts bare, pink nipples hard, a cloudy gaze fixed on me. She said nothing. She just touched herself while watching me, as if daring me to endure. Guilt burned inside me, but seeing her like that made my pulse beat harder than any reproach.

Carla lifted her head for a second.

—Look at your brother, Nerea… he can’t take his eyes off you. Do you want to come over and try him yourself? Because he’s so hard he might come just from looking at you.

Without waiting for an answer, Carla took my hand and guided me to the sofa. She climbed on top of me, knees on either side of my hips, and leaned toward Nerea until she was almost touching her mouth.

—I can’t wait any longer —she whispered—. There’s a man here for both of us. Your call, but I’m going for it.

She grabbed my cock, lined it up with her entrance and sank down slowly, opening herself centimeter by centimeter with a long moan. Heat wrapped around me, tight, slick. She started riding me, hips rising and falling in rhythm, and I pushed from below, hands on her ass, feeling how she clenched with every thrust.

Beside me, Nerea kept touching herself, her fingers moving faster and faster, her soaked bikini bottom shoved aside, watching the scene as if she couldn’t look away.

Carla suddenly went rigid, her nails digging into my shoulders.

—I’m coming! —she shouted, shaking in waves, until she collapsed panting on my chest. When she sat up and saw I was still hard, she let out an unbelieving laugh—. I can’t believe it, you’re still going… —She turned to Nerea—. Your brother can hold out for you. He wants to put it in your little sister pussy. Are you going to leave it like that, or are you coming over here?

Nerea let out a broken moan, her fingers speeding up.

—Andrés… —she panted—. Come here… I want to feel you.

And I couldn’t take it anymore.

***

I moved closer to the sofa. Nerea looked up at me from below, legs open, her swollen wet pussy gleaming under the orange light of sunset. I sat beside her and she didn’t wait: she leaned in and kissed me, soft at first, like two strangers meeting for the first time. Her tongue brushed mine slowly, my hands sliding to her waist, feeling the hot skin of my little sister, who was no longer little.

—I’ve wanted this so much… —she whispered against my mouth—. Since you came back. I’ve imagined you so many nights, touching myself thinking of you. I wanted to feel you inside me.

—We shouldn’t… —I murmured, but my fingers were already brushing the edge of the pushed-aside bikini bottom, the hot wetness running down her thighs.

She shook her head, kissed me again, deeper, and climbed on top of me. She grabbed my cock with a trembling hand and lowered herself slowly, very slowly, as if she wanted to memorize every second. The tip opened her swollen lips, the narrow heat wrapping around me like a glove. She let out a long moan, head thrown back, until I was buried all the way inside her. We both moaned at the same time, almost a shared sigh.

—Shhh… yes, we should —she whispered—. It’s you. Only you. My brother. Fuck me slow first… like you really want me.

She began to move in gentle circles, and I held her tight, thrusting slow and deep, kissing her mouth, her neck, my hands traveling over her back. Little by little it completely broke apart. I grabbed her ass and drove in harder, pounding to the hilt with every thrust.

—Just like that, Andrés! Your sister needs you like this! —she screamed, her tits bouncing, nails digging into my shoulders—. Harder… you’re splitting me open!

I fucked her uncontrollably, her pussy squeezing me as if it never wanted to let me go. Her moans became screams, her body shaking.

—I’m coming! I’m coming, Andrés! —she howled, convulsing all over me, her walls clamping down on me in violent spasms.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a growl I drove one last time to the hilt and exploded inside her, pleasure shooting through me like a bolt of lightning while her cunt milked me dry. We stayed locked together, panting, bodies trembling, sweat mixing.

***

Nerea lifted her head and looked at me with a new, satisfied smile.

—I love you, Andrés —she whispered, kissing me softly—. And this is only the beginning. You’ve got many days left here.

From the other side of the sofa, Carla gave a soft laugh, her fingers still between her legs.

—And now… —she asked, her voice hoarse and hungry—. Who wants to go again?