My Sister-in-Law Received Me Alone on Saturday Morning

This story had been tucked away in a locked drawer for two years. Now that time has worn away the guilt and recriminations, I can tell it without looking over my shoulder.

Hernán was my brother-in-law and my Saturday-morning soccer teammate. He had been married to Marina for five years and spent his time bragging that they had an open relationship. He never got tired of praising her, especially in the locker room, where any excuse was good enough to bring the conversation back to the same thing. That she was a beast in bed. That she knew every trick. That she had never shaved and that the dark jungle between her legs drove him crazy. That she sucked cock like no one else, that she swallowed the whole load without batting an eye, that she loved being fucked from behind.

—You should see her —he’d say—. You have no idea what she’s like. She fucks like a bitch in heat.

I’d nod and change the subject. I thought he was just showing off, the usual boastful exaggeration of a proud husband. Sometimes I wondered whether he was offering her to me in code, whether that relentless speech was a disguised invitation. But I never had the nerve to ask, to drop a hint, to find out how far the offer went. She was my sister-in-law. She was my wife’s brother’s wife. There was a line that no amount of Saturday soccer could justify crossing.

Until that morning in March.

—Can you pick me up at nine? —Hernán had asked me Friday night.

At ten to nine I rang the bell. Marina opened the door for me. She was wearing a cream-colored satin robe, badly tied, the belt barely knotted. The first thing I thought was that she had just gotten up. Then I looked at her feet and saw the heels. Nobody who has just gotten out of bed puts on heels to open the door at nine on a Saturday morning.

—Come in —she said, stepping aside.

She walked ahead of me into the living room. The robe fell to her knees, but the neckline dipped to her navel and showed the beginnings of her breasts, white to the point of blinding, almost luminous against the satin. Her hips swayed with every step. It was no accident. No woman walks like that by chance when she’s wearing heels at nine in the morning.

—Sit down. Hernán’s on his way.

I sat on the sofa. She settled on the armrest of the opposite sofa, right in front of me, as if it were a makeshift throne. She crossed her legs and, as she adjusted her shoe, the robe opened a little more. Just enough. Enough to make me stop breathing for two seconds.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. And between her legs was exactly what her husband had been describing for months in the locker room. A dark, thick bush that covered the entire triangle and disappeared downward, glossy, with not a single trim. Something I hadn’t seen on a woman in years. Modern girls shave, wax, design shapes; hers was something else, another time, another order. I could make out her lips beneath the hair, swollen, wet, as if she had been waiting for me like that for a while.

—Want coffee? —she asked.

It took me a while to answer. When I looked up I realized she knew perfectly well where I’d been looking. And that I already had a cock hard as a rock against the seam of my pants.

—Uh… sure. Yeah, coffee.

She stood up, cinched the robe shut with theatrical slowness, and went to the kitchen, the parquet floor creaking under her steps. She came back with two cups, set one on the low table, and sat down beside me. Not opposite me. Beside me. Her thigh pressed against mine.

—You know what? I almost forgot. Hernán’s not here.

I lifted my head slowly.

—What do you mean, he’s not here?

—Last night they told him his aunt died in Bahía Blanca. He left at eleven on the first bus. He won’t be back until tomorrow night.

—Then why didn’t he tell me?

—He forgot. Or he didn’t forget. —She smiled—. Maybe he wanted you to come anyway.

She set the cup on the table. She settled once more on the sofa armrest, crossed her legs, and the robe opened again. This time she didn’t pretend to close it. She stayed like that, reclined, her head slightly tilted, looking at me. Then, without taking her eyes off me, she ran two fingers through her cunt, sank them just barely into the hair, and brought them to her mouth.

—What’s wrong? —she asked after a minute, knowing perfectly well what was wrong.

—I’ve never seen that much hair.

—Do you like it?

—A lot.

—It drives Hernán crazy. And you? Do you want to stick it in there, brother-in-law?

Me too, I thought. Me too, for a while now.

I was speechless for a few seconds. The blood had drained from my head and I couldn’t think straight anymore. I was thinking with another part of my body, and that part was telling me the soccer Saturday had just taken another turn. She waited. She waited with the calm of someone who has played this hand before and knows the opponent’s answer.

I stood up. I crossed the living room in three steps. I stopped between her legs, took her face in both hands, and kissed her.

It was a long, heavy kiss, with no preamble at all. Marina opened her mouth at once, grabbed the back of my neck, and gave everything back. I felt the heat of her tongue and her breath still tasting of coffee. I yanked at the robe’s belt and the garment fell open completely. White skin against cream satin. The nipples big, dark, almost violet, already hard as corks. The curve of her belly. And below, the black weight, that bush her husband had praised for good reason.

I lowered my head and took one nipple in my mouth, sucked hard, bit it. She let out a rough moan and brought my hand to her cunt. She was drenched. My fingers sank into the hair and found the hot, slippery, open flesh. I shoved two fingers into her at once and she moaned louder, ground herself against my hand, started riding my fingers right there on the sofa, robe fallen, heels still on.

—Take your clothes off —she said, her voice broken—. Take your clothes off now.

I loosened my belt and yanked down my pants and underwear. My cock sprang out hard, pointing at her face. She didn’t hesitate. She slid off the armrest, knelt on the rug in front of me, and took it halfway into her mouth in one go. Then she pulled it out, spat on the head, and took it back in, this time all the way to the throat.

—Fuck me.

Marina sucked hungrily, one hand at the base, her tongue working the head on every stroke. She looked up at me from below, dark eyes, mouth full, a thread of spit running from the corner of her lips. I grabbed her hair with both hands and started moving her head at the rhythm I wanted. She let me. She opened wider, relaxed her throat, and let me fuck her mouth there, kneeling in the living room of her house, with the coffee still steaming on the table.

—Is that how you suck Hernán off —I asked without stopping—, or do you treat him better?

She laughed with a mouth full of cock, pulled off with a wet sound, and looked at me.

—I do less for Hernán. Much less.

And she took me all the way back in.

***

I carried her to the bedroom. She weighed nothing. When I laid her on the bed, the robe ended up under her body, open like a rug. She kicked off the heels in one sharp motion and threw them to the floor. I tore the rest of my clothes off faster than I had put them on.

—Come here. Come here now —she said, grabbing my arms.

I knelt between her legs. I ran an open hand over the dark mound and felt the wetness beneath the hair, warm, abundant, running down to her ass. She arched her back and let out a deep moan, a sound more animal than human. I lowered my head. I moved my tongue slowly, parting the hair, searching for the clit beneath all that thicket. When I found it, she grabbed my hair with both hands and pressed me against her.

—There. Don’t move there.

I stayed like that for a long while, eating her pussy calmly, sucking her swollen clit, taking her whole cunt in my mouth, tasting the juice that kept running out of her nonstop. I could feel her legs loosening and tightening in waves. I shoved in one finger, then two, then three, while I kept working her clit with my tongue. Marina started moving her hips against my face, grinding her pussy on my mouth with no shame at all, clutching my hair, shoving herself against me.

—Eat me, eat me, come on, like that, like that, you motherfucker, like that.

The first orgasm hit her almost without warning. It surged up her body like an electric current, shook her hips, tore a hoarse cry from her that rattled in my skull. I felt her cunt clamp down on my fingers in spasms, her flesh throbbing against my mouth, and a hot stream bathed my chin and neck.

—Now you. Now up. Put it in me now —she begged, her voice shattered.

I climbed up. I wiped my mouth against her belly and positioned myself between her thighs. I rubbed the head of my cock against her open cunt, slid it along her lips, used it to bump her clit a couple of times. She moaned and tried to grab it with her hand to guide it inside.

—Quit fucking around, put it in, put it in.

I put it in. I entered slowly at first and then, when I felt her give, I went all the way in. I felt her open, squeeze me, suck me inward. Marina closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and stayed like that, silent, for three or four thrusts, as if she were processing something. When she spoke again, it was to ask for more.

—Harder. More. Don’t stop, I’m not made of glass. Fuck me like you hate me.

I did as she said. I grabbed her left thigh, lifted her leg, and rested it on my shoulder. In that position I went in completely, without restraint, until my balls were sinking against her ass on every thrust. Marina started moaning differently, sharper, faster, in time with the wet sound of her cunt sucking my cock on every stroke. Her nails dug into my back and slid down, leaving tracks. I didn’t let up. I was on another plane. I was thinking about Hernán, about the locker room, about all the times he’d boasted about her, and every shove was a silent answer to the absent brother-in-law.

—Like that, like that, deeper, break me, break my cunt, come on.

I grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezed them hard, pinched her nipples. She cried out and drove her heels into my ass to pull me deeper. I changed position: lowered her leg, grabbed both knees, and spread them wide, pinning her against the mattress, her hairy cunt opened wide, my cock going in and out in full view of both of us.

—Look how I fuck you —I said—. Look.

She lowered her head and looked. She bit her lower lip, ran her hand over her clit, and started masturbating while I fucked her. The sight hit something inside me. My whole body tightened.

—Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

I didn’t stop. The second orgasm hit her with even less warning and lasted longer. Her whole body contracted, her cunt closed around my cock like a fist, she clung to my ass and tried to pull me deeper than anatomy allowed. I finished inside her, without thinking, without warning, without asking anything, pumping her full shot after shot until I felt my prostate emptying into the deepest part of her body. She squeezed my legs with her thighs so I wouldn’t move.

—Stay there. Don’t pull out yet. I want to feel it like this, still, inside.

I stayed. My forehead rested against hers. Both of us breathing like we’d just come down from a hike in the mountains. I could feel her pulsing around me, clamping down in spasms that grew farther apart. After a while she laughed softly.

—It’s been months since I came like that. Months.

—Hernán doesn’t…?

—Hernán talks a lot. You already know that. He gets hard for three minutes and thinks he’s Rocco Siffredi.

I slid out slowly and watched my cum start to trickle out of her open cunt, mixed with her juices, running down her ass to the satin robe. She ran two fingers through it, brought them to her mouth, and sucked them while looking me in the eye.

***

She came back from the bathroom naked, without the robe, without the heels. The light coming through the blinds marked her breasts and, again, that black bush that seemed drawn in ink over her white skin. I was still in bed, still not thinking clearly, still not fully accepting what had just happened, but my cock was already starting to stir again just from watching her walk toward me like that.

She climbed up again, but this time on her knees, her body turned. She pushed my head down and sat on my face. I stayed like that for a while, nose buried in the dark mound, tongue buried deep in her cunt, smelling her, eating her, while she held my cock in her hand and worked it without hurry, playing with my balls, squeezing the base, making it rise again. When she moved, I ate everything: the clit, the lips, the opening to the ass when she shifted farther forward. She finished again over my mouth, smothering me, squeezing my head between her thighs until I could barely breathe.

Then she turned around, took my cock into her mouth for a couple of minutes in a brief sixty-nine —sucking me with the same hunger as before, swallowing what was left of the previous load— and, without warning, got down and lay on her stomach.

She ended up kneeling on the pillow, legs apart, back arched, ass raised. That part of her body was the exact contrast to the rest: shaved to the millimeter, white, not a hair on it. As if she herself had wanted to mark the difference between the natural in front and the geometry in back. Her round ass, opened by the position, with the pink little eye visible and the hairy cunt dripping underneath.

—Come on. Another round.

I got behind her. I started with the first hole, slowly, finding the rhythm again, my cock entering a cunt that already knew it. Marina pressed her face into the pillow and let out muffled sounds. I grabbed her ass with both hands, spread it open, and spat on her asshole. She shuddered all over.

—Oh, you motherfucker.

I ran my thumb over it, pressing just a little, while I kept fucking her cunt. On one of the in-and-out strokes I slipped. It wasn’t entirely an accident. She didn’t stop me either. The head went into another place, the forbidden place, and sank a couple of centimeters before either of us reacted.

Marina gave a short cry, not of pain, not entirely. She tried to move forward. I rested my open hand on her back and held her where she was.

—Wait. Wait a second.

—Slow. Slow, you motherfucker.

I did it slowly. I advanced a millimeter, pulled back, went in again. My cock, well lubricated by her own cunt, kept sliding in, gaining ground little by little against the resistance of the ring. I gave her time to get used to it. When I was all the way in, I waited. I could feel her pulsing around me, fast, out of control, her ass flesh squeezing my cock tighter than anyone ever had.

—Move. But slowly.

I started moving. Slowly, like I’d promised, and then a little less slowly, and then at the rhythm my body demanded. I reached underneath and found her clit with my fingers. Once I found it, she started moving against me, no longer fleeing, quite the opposite, pulling her ass back, seeking me. Marina cursed into the pillow, a mix of insults and contradictory pleas, but she didn’t try to get away, didn’t tell me to stop.

—Son of a bitch. Piece-of-shit brother-in-law. Slower. Slower. Oh, oh, like that, like that, fuck it good, come on.

—Want me to stop?

—No. Don’t stop. But slower. Put your fingers in the other one.

I did as she asked. I put two fingers in her cunt while I kept fucking her ass. I could feel my own cock through the thin wall of flesh separating the two openings. Marina started trembling. I ran my other hand down her back and stroked the nape of her neck. I loosened the pace a little. She began purring again, this time long and satisfied, and then she started moving on her own against me, rocking her ass, fucking me, setting the tempo.

—Come in my ass. Come in my ass, come on, I want to feel it.

I couldn’t hold out much longer. When I finished, it was in there again, without warning, with a release that left me breathless for a few seconds, feeling each shot spat against the tight bottom of her ass. Marina howled one last time, pressed her fingers to her clit and came with my cock in her ass and my fingers in her cunt, shaking all over, and collapsed onto the pillow as if someone had cut the strings.

I slid out slowly. The cum was peeking through the red little eye, still swollen, stretched. I ran my thumb over it and she shuddered with a tired laugh.

We lay there on our backs in silence, our legs still tangled together. The sun was higher now, slipping through the blinds in stripes.

—You’ve got handprints on your ass —she said after a while, laughing with a broken voice—. I hope they’re gone by tomorrow.

—And if they aren’t, tell Hernán you fell.

—You tell him. He won’t hit you.

We both laughed. Nervous, complicit laughter, the kind that comes after doing something you can’t come back from.

—I’m alone tonight —she said when I was getting dressed—. In case you’re bored.

I didn’t answer. I tied my laces, gave her a long kiss on the mouth —still tasting my own cum on her— and left. In the elevator I looked at myself in the mirror and saw on my face the exact mix of guilt and satisfaction I should have expected. Hernán was coming back the next day. There was a whole night ahead.

I came back, of course. I came back that same night and many other nights for months, until one day Marina told me it was better to stop and we both knew she was right. Hernán never found out. He still plays soccer on Saturdays, still boasts about his wife in the locker room, still tells the guys they should see her. I nod and change the subject, just like before. Only now I know exactly what he’s talking about.