My Sister’s Friend Walked In Without Warning That Afternoon

That afternoon in May I hadn’t planned anything specific. My parents were away for the whole weekend, my sister Daniela had left early to go for drinks with her college friends, and I, with the entire house to myself, did what any twenty-one-year-old guy would do: I flopped onto the living room sofa with my laptop on my lap and opened that folder we all know exists.

The apartment had high ceilings, with old wood floors that creaked with every step. The blinds were halfway up, letting in that late-afternoon light that turns everything it touches golden. I was only wearing shorts and an old T-shirt. The street was silent. I thought I had plenty of time.

I started slowly, like we always do when we know no one’s going to interrupt us. I pulled my shorts down to my ankles, took my cock in my right hand, and let my other hand keep typing on the keyboard. I wasn’t in a hurry. I was looking for a specific video, one that had been on my mind for weeks: a brunette on her knees sucking cock while being watched in the face. When I found it, I turned the volume up just enough to hear the moans in the background and started stroking myself calmly, gripping at the base and sliding slowly up to the head, spitting a little into my palm so it would glide better.

I’d been like that for about ten minutes, eyes half-closed, my cock hard as a rock and my breathing already changed, when I heard the lock.

“Hello?” a voice said from the entrance.

I jumped. The laptop nearly fell to the floor. I tried to pull my shorts up with one hand while closing the browser with the other, but everything tangled together. By the time I looked up, Marina was already standing in the living room doorway, backpack hanging from one shoulder and an expression halfway between surprise and amusement on her face.

Marina had been my sister’s friend since first year of college. Twenty-two or twenty-three, I don’t remember exactly. Brunette, with straight hair just above her shoulders, dark eyes, and a crooked smile that showed one canine sharper than the other. She wasn’t spectacular in the glossy-magazine sense, but there was something about the way she moved that drew attention. That afternoon she was wearing a short denim skirt and a thin white T-shirt through which her nipples showed clearly because she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said, not taking her eyes off my crotch. “Daniela told me the door would be open and that I should wait inside.”

“It’s okay,” I answered, though my face was burning. I’d already halfway pulled my shorts up and my shirt was covering what it could, but my cock was still stiff under the fabric, making an impossible-to-hide bulge. “I didn’t know that... well, that.”

I expected her to turn around and go into the kitchen, or to pretend not to notice and look at her phone. But no. Marina put the backpack on the floor, folded her arms, and leaned against the doorframe.

“Are you okay?” she asked, in a tone that wasn’t exactly concern.

“Yeah, yeah, perfectly.”

“You go bright red when you lie, you know that?”

I didn’t know what to say. I stood there in the middle of the living room with my shorts badly pulled up and my cock still visible under the fabric. She laughed, not at me but with me, as if we shared a private joke.

“Relax,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s the most normal thing in the world. Happens even in the best families.”

“Yeah, yeah, but...”

“But I interrupted you. Sorry.”

She took another step. I backed up one, until I hit the sofa and sat down. The laptop was still open beside me, its screen black from power saving. Marina sat next to me, not opposite, and rested a hand on my knee. Her skin felt hot.

“How much longer?” she asked quietly.

“How?”

“To finish what you were doing. To come. Because leaving it half-finished is awful. I know from experience.”

I stared at her, trying to understand whether she was serious. Her eyes didn’t blink. I swallowed.

“Marina, my sister...”

“Your sister is having coffee downtown and won’t be back for another hour,” she said, glancing at the wall clock. “And I’m not telling her anything.”

Her hand moved a little higher, to the top of my thigh. Then it kept going until she brushed the bulge through my shorts, and squeezed me gently, measuring me. A soft little sound escaped her throat. Mine didn’t move. I didn’t know where to put it. In the end I rested my hand on the back of the sofa, as far from her as I could get it.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll leave it here and go to the kitchen,” she added. “But if you do want, I’ll help you. I’ll suck you until you come in my mouth. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel like doing.”

I shook my head. But the gesture didn’t mean what it looked like. It meant I didn’t believe it. That it couldn’t be happening. Marina understood perfectly.

“Yes or no?” she insisted, her hand already inside my shorts, her fingers wrapping around my cock directly over my skin.

“Yes,” I said, almost without a voice.

***

What happened next was quick, as if the two of us had decided at the same time that thinking any more would ruin it. Marina pulled my shorts all the way down and slid them off over my ankles. She knelt between my legs on the rug, tucked her hair behind one ear, and looked up at me while gripping my cock with both hands.

“Fuck, it’s gorgeous,” she murmured.

She spat on it. A thick thread slid from her lip to the head and down the shaft. Then she lowered her head and took me all the way in, to the base, with an ease that left me breathless. I closed my eyes.

Her mouth was warm and patient. She wasn’t in a hurry. She went up and down at a rhythm that wasn’t looking to finish, only to prolong things. She sucked the tip with tight lips, pulled it out of her mouth with a wet pop, licked my whole length from balls to head like it was an ice cream cone, and swallowed me again until her eyes watered. Every so often she paused, kissed my thigh, looked up at me with that same crooked smile and her mouth open so I could see her working my cock over her tongue. I gripped the back of the sofa until my knuckles cracked.

“Grab my hair,” she told me, her voice husky. “Don’t be shy.”

I did what she said. I grabbed her hair from behind and started setting the rhythm myself, pushing her face against my cock. She moaned with a mouth full, spat and drooled over my balls, taking them into her mouth one by one while she jerked me with her hand. Her chin shone with saliva. At one point she pulled me all the way out and ran me across her cheek, smeared me over her whole face, and took me back in again.

“Wait, wait,” I begged, when I started feeling myself go.

“Wait completely or...?”

“Wait a second.”

She straightened up. Her lips were wet, a string of spit hanging from her chin, and a strand of hair stuck to her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.

“Your turn,” she said.

She stood in front of me, unbuttoned her skirt, and let it fall to the floor. Underneath she was wearing thin black panties, soaked in the front, with a dark stain in the center. She took them off with the casualness of someone kicking off their shoes at home and tossed them over the sofa arm. She took off her T-shirt too and stood completely naked in front of me: small breasts, dark hard nipples, a shaved pussy trimmed nearly to the skin, with swollen lips shining with wetness. Then she sat back down on the sofa, this time with one leg over the backrest and the other hanging down, and put a hand on the back of my neck to push me downward.

“Eat me out,” she said. “Eat me out properly.”

I did the best I could. I didn’t have much experience and it showed. But she guided me with her hand, slowly, letting out a moan when I was doing it right and a “higher, there, there” when I got lost. I ran my tongue over her slit from bottom to clit, and I was surprised by how salty and thick the taste was. She writhed every time I sucked her nub, and she grabbed my ears to press me harder against her pussy.

“Put it in me, the tongue, put it in me,” she panted. “And with your finger, the other hole, touch me there.”

I slid a finger into her cunt while I kept sucking her clit, and with my thumb I pressed her asshole from the outside. She started leaking. Within a few minutes her legs tightened around my head and she dug her nails into my scalp, moaning through clenched teeth so she wouldn’t shout. I felt her pussy clenching against my tongue, squeezing my fingers, and a whole gush of slick running down my wrist.

“Come here,” she panted, pulling me up. “Come here right now.”

I sat on the sofa and she climbed on top, straddling me. She didn’t need to say anything. She grabbed my cock with her hand, rubbed it through her open lips to soak it in her own wetness, and slid it into herself, slowly at first, biting her lip as she lowered herself centimeter by centimeter. I felt how tight she was, hot, slick. When she had me all the way in, she stayed still for a second, eyes closed and mouth open.

“Fuck, yours is so thick,” she whispered.

Then she started moving for real, bracing her hands on my shoulders, her hair falling over her face each time she rose and sank. Her tits bounced against my chin. I grabbed them, pinched her nipples, took one into my mouth and bit it lightly. She rode me faster and faster, with an obscene rhythm, pulling almost all the way off and then slamming herself back down to the hilt. The sofa creaked. You could hear the sound of wet flesh colliding, each sharp smack of her ass against my thighs.

“Like that, like that, fuck me like that,” she panted, her voice wrecked. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

And then we heard the lock again.

***

Marina froze, my cock still buried to the root inside her. So did I. The only two things moving in the living room were us, her still on top of me, not separating, feeling how I throbbed inside her. The front door slammed shut. Footsteps came down the hall.

“Marina?” Daniela’s voice asked from the entrance.

“In the living room,” she answered, with a calm I couldn’t understand.

I tried to push her off me. She held my wrists and shook her head. Footsteps. The living room door opening. And my sister, standing in the doorway, holding two takeaway coffees on a cardboard tray.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t drop anything. She just stared at us for what felt like hours, though it was probably three seconds. She looked at Marina’s naked back, and her eyes dropped to where our bodies were joined. Then she set the tray very carefully on the hall table and walked into the living room.

“You two are unbelievable,” she said. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded... something else.

“We were going to call you,” Marina began, without getting off my cock yet, “but...”

“You didn’t call me.”

“No, we didn’t call you.”

The two of them looked at each other. I didn’t understand anything. Daniela had always been the responsible older sister, the one who scolded me for leaving dishes in the sink. Seeing her standing there, staring at us without blinking while Marina was still seated on top of me with my cock inside her, was surreal.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Now whatever you want,” Marina answered.

Daniela thought about it. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, a gesture I knew well because she always did it whenever she was torn between two options. Then she put her bag on the floor, walked over to the sofa, and leaned down over Marina.

I watched them kiss on top of me. Marina still hadn’t moved, trapping me inside her. Daniela slipped her tongue in without hiding it, with a familiarity that clearly meant this wasn’t the first time. She ran a hand down Marina’s chest, pinched a nipple, and kept going until she reached where we were joined. I felt my sister’s fingers brush the base of my cock, slide through Marina’s soaked lips, travel up to her clit and rub it while she kissed her. Marina moaned into my sister’s mouth and pressed even harder against me. That was what I understood right away: they’d been doing this for a while.

When they pulled apart, my sister looked at me for the first time.

“If we’re doing this,” she said, “let’s do it properly.”

***

We moved to the bedroom. Not mine, or hers, but my parents’, because it was the only one with a double bed. Daniela put a towel over the good bedspread, with that domestic precision she never lost even in the middle of chaos. Marina was laughing under her breath.

“You’re crazy,” she told her.

“I know.”

My sister stripped without theatrics, folding her clothes neatly on the chair. Her body was fuller than Marina’s, with bigger breasts and pink, wide nipples, broad hips, and a pussy with a perfectly trimmed black triangle I’d never been able to imagine the way I was imagining it now. She stood there for a moment, giving me time to take it in, one hand brushing her chest and the other hanging along her thigh.

“Are you sure?” she asked me.

I nodded. My voice wouldn’t come out.

“If at any point you want to stop, we stop. And this never gets mentioned again.”

“Okay.”

“Come here.”

I lay back on the bed, face up, my cock pointing at the ceiling, still shiny with Marina’s wetness. Marina lay on one side, Daniela on the other. They started by doing things to each other, slowly, leaving me watching. They kissed for a long time, tongues out, and then Marina lowered my sister’s head to her tits and made her suck each nipple one after the other. Daniela bit her breasts, licked them, went down her stomach and opened her legs with her hands. She started eating her out in front of me without the slightest hesitation, her face buried between Marina’s thighs, tongue out, moaning as if she loved the taste. It was obvious this wasn’t the first time. They knew each other’s gestures, the right spots, the rhythms.

I existed only as a spectator, with my cock in my hand stroking myself softly, until Marina, between moans, took my free hand and brought it to my sister’s breast.

“Touch her,” she said. “She’s been wanting you to touch her for years. She tells me when she drinks.”

Daniela closed her eyes with her tongue still buried in Marina’s cunt. She didn’t tell me no. She didn’t say anything. I was the one who took too long to move, the one who needed three long seconds to accept that this was really happening.

When I finally brushed one of her tits with my fingers, my sister let out her breath very slowly, as if she’d been holding it in for a long time. I squeezed the whole thing in my hand, kneaded it, pinched the nipple until it hardened. She lifted her ass to seek me out, and Marina, who had already understood everything, moved aside and gave me the spot.

“Put it in her,” Marina said in my ear, taking my cock and guiding it toward my sister’s pussy. “Put it in already. She’s been waiting for years.”

Daniela got on all fours on the bed, ass raised toward me and face resting on Marina’s open thighs, with Marina lying on her back in front of her. I grabbed my sister’s hips, pressed the tip against her soaked cunt and pushed slowly. She swallowed me whole in one motion, with no resistance at all, she was so wet. She let out a long, muffled moan against Marina’s thigh.

“Fuck, fuck,” she panted. “Fuck me, fuck me now.”

I started moving. At first with fear, with short thrusts, but seeing how she responded — how she pushed her own ass back against me, how she begged for more through clenched teeth — I gripped hard and drove myself in to the hilt every time. The bed in my parents’ room creaked. My sister’s full ass bounced against my belly with a dry sound each time I buried myself in her. Marina, underneath her, grabbed her head and pressed her face against her pussy so she’d keep licking while I fucked her from behind.

“Look at her,” Marina told me, looking into my eyes over my sister’s shoulder. “Look how much she likes it when her brother fucks her. Look how she comes.”

Daniela came before anyone else. Her back arched, she clenched her pussy so hard around my cock I nearly came with her, and she stayed there moaning, mouth open against Marina’s thigh, trembling from head to toe. When she caught her breath, she turned and moved aside, panting.

“Now me, now me,” Marina said, spreading her legs.

I changed pussy without pulling my cock all the way out. Marina was different, tighter, slicker. She started talking dirty the second I entered her: telling me to fuck her like I’d fucked her before, to fill her cunt, that she was already coming again. Daniela recovered fast. She got up, straddled Marina’s face so she’d eat her out, and from there kissed me for the first time on the mouth, tongue and all, without the slightest shame, while I kept hammering her best friend between the two of them.

Marina came with my sister’s tongue in her mouth, feeling how I split her open from the inside. She hadn’t finished trembling when my sister got down from on top of her and yanked my arm.

“Pull it out,” she said, kneeling on the floor. “Come here.”

Marina knelt too, beside her. And at some point the two of them were kneeling in front of me at once and I didn’t know which mouth to look at. They passed my cock back and forth between them, took it in turns down their throats, kissed with it between them, licked my balls together. The image of my sister and her best friend with their faces pressed to my cock, looking up at me with their mouths open, was what finished me off. They both told me to finish outside and I did: I came over their tongues, their cheeks, their tits, one thick spurt after another that seemed never to end. They cleaned each other with their tongues, giving each other kisses with my cum mixed in their mouths.

After that the three of us lay on my parents’ bed in silence, listening to a neighbor’s car parking on the street.

“Nobody knows anything about this,” Daniela said after a while, staring at the ceiling.

“Nobody,” Marina and I repeated at the same time.

“And that doesn’t mean this is going to happen again.”

“Okay,” I answered.

Marina laughed softly.

“That’s what you say now.”

***

Three months have passed since that afternoon. My parents still don’t know anything. Marina still comes over on weekends, when they know my sister is home. Sometimes the two of them stay over in Daniela’s room and, when my parents are already asleep, one of them comes down to get me from the living room with a finger to her lips.

Not always. Only when they feel like it. And always with the condition my sister set that first night: nobody talks about this outside these walls.

I have no intention of talking. I’m only writing this because there are things that, when you tell them to nobody, stop being completely real. And I don’t want this one to stop being real.