My Son-in-Law Surprised Me a Month After the Burial

My name is Marisol and I’m fifty-three years old. I live in Montevideo, in a quiet neighborhood, in one of those houses with a front garden and a lemon tree in back. My whole life I was a modest woman, raised by my mother with the idea that the body is to be kept, not displayed. Dresses to mid-calf, blouses buttoned to the neck, no heavy makeup. That was my education, and I never questioned it.

Two years ago I was widowed. Hernán and I had been married for almost thirty years. He wasn’t a bad man, on the contrary, but the bed stopped being a place of connection long before he got sick. We fucked once a month, if that, and it lasted as long as a cup of coffee: him on top, two minutes, a grunt, a quick load inside, and then sleep. I accepted it, because one doesn’t talk about those things and because I thought that was how it was for all women like me.

When he died, I cried a lot. I cried for the years, for the company, for the hollow left by a person even when they sometimes didn’t touch you. But a month later, when I went back to sleeping alone in an empty double bed, I discovered something I was ashamed to discover. My body was still alive. My cunt would get wet on its own at night, without anyone touching it. I’d wake up with hard nipples and a hand already between my legs, rubbing me without my even realizing it. I wasn’t tired. I was hungry, awake, irritated deep inside.

Andrés, Hernán’s brother, came to see me one afternoon. He was two years older than me, widowed too for a long time. He arrived with a tray of pastries and the sincere intention of keeping me company for a while. We sat down on the living room sofa. I started telling him things about Hernán and, without realizing it, ended up crying against his shoulder. He put his arm around my back, said something soft in my ear, offered for me to lie down for a moment because I looked exhausted.

I rested my head in his lap and then I felt it. An unexpected hardness under the fabric of his pants. His cock, thick and throbbing against my cheek, separated from my mouth by barely two layers of cloth. I stayed still, pretending not to notice it, but I noticed it. He didn’t move either. One, two, three minutes went by like that, and my hand, which was resting on his knee, moved up a centimeter. Just a centimeter. Then another. Until the tip of my fingers brushed that hard bulge and I felt it pulse beneath my hand. Andrés let out his breath sharply.

—Marisol —he said, his voice hoarse.

—Don’t say anything, Andrés.

***

I took him to my room because it was the only place where I felt I could do what I was about to do without dying of embarrassment. He undressed me awkwardly, like a man who no longer quite remembered the trade. He pulled my dress down, yanked off my bra and stood there looking at my sagging fifty-year-old tits, with the dark, already hard nipples. Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt my cunt tighten. I grabbed his hand and put it on one breast. He squeezed it and lowered his mouth to suck on it.

—Harder —I told him, and I surprised myself with my own voice—. Suck me harder.

His body was nothing special and mine wasn’t either anymore. But it had been a month since my skin had felt the heat of another skin, and that was a fire no good manners could put out. I fumbled with his pants and pulled his cock out. It was smaller than Hernán’s, thinner, but hard as iron and dripping a clear bead from the tip. I took it in my hand and squeezed. He groaned.

I knelt at the edge of the bed. In thirty years I had never sucked Hernán’s cock to the end. It disgusted me, I was shy about it, I don’t know. With Andrés I didn’t think twice. I opened my mouth and took it all in, until I felt the head press against my throat. I pulled back, licked it from bottom to top, sucked his balls one by one, and took him back in again. He held my head with both hands and whispered dirty things I’d never known a brother-in-law could say, that his brother had never made me feel this good, that he’d been wanting to see me with a cock in my mouth for years.

I was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his cock between my lips, sucking it hungrily, when I heard a very faint noise in the hallway. Andrés, with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, heard nothing. I did. I turned my head just a little, without letting him go, and then I saw him.

Matías. My son-in-law. My daughter Carolina’s husband. He was standing in the doorway, completely frozen, staring at me with his uncle’s cock all the way down my mouth.

Our eyes met in the exact second Andrés came. I felt the hot spray explode against my palate, one second, another, another, while I swallowed without being able to do anything, my eyes locked on my son-in-law’s. I felt the thick semen leaking from the corner of my mouth, running down my chin to my chest. I felt my whole face turn red in a way no previous shame had ever reached. Matías took a step back, then another, and disappeared. I heard the front door close.

—Go —I told Andrés, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

—What happened?

—Get dressed and go, please. Don’t ask anything.

***

Three weeks passed. Three very long weeks. Carolina came to see me twice, alone, without Matías, and I hugged her tightly each time, waiting for her to say something any moment, to break down crying, to ask me how I could have done it. She said nothing. That meant he hadn’t said anything either. Why? That question haunted me every night.

And at the same time, in some corner of me I preferred not to look at, there was something else. The image of Matías in the doorway kept coming back to my head again and again. The look on his face. It wasn’t disgust. It was the face of a man with a hard cock in his pants. That was exactly, precisely how I started to see it when I touched myself at night. I’d slide in two fingers, three, and come thinking about him watching me swallow his uncle. Something I couldn’t name until he came back.

One Saturday afternoon I was in my room, making the bed. The radio was playing softly. I heard the front door, assumed it was Carolina. I didn’t turn around when I heard footsteps in the hallway. When my bedroom door slammed shut behind me, I jumped.

—Cara? —I asked.

A hand gripped the back of my neck firmly and shoved me face-down onto the mattress. It wasn’t my daughter’s hand. I wanted to turn around, but I couldn’t. The voice I heard recognized my whole body before my head finished processing it.

—Stay still, mother-in-law.

Matías. I felt his weight on top of me, one knee between my legs, a warm breath behind my ear, and against my ass, impossible to ignore, my son-in-law’s rock-hard cock pushing through his clothes.

—Matías, please —I said, my face against the sheet—. No.

—No what? —and the hand holding me loosened a little so I could breathe—. Not this that you’re thinking right now? That for three weeks you’ve been touching yourself thinking about me, right?

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. Because yes, I was thinking exactly that. Because yes, I wanted him there. Because for three weeks my body had been waiting for something again and that something, shamefully, was this. I felt his hand slip under my dress and move up my thigh. By the time his fingers touched my panties, I was soaked.

—Look at yourself —he murmured, and ran two fingers over the wet fabric—. Mother-in-law, you’re dripping.

—Matías…

—If you tell me to go —he murmured, and his voice raised goosebumps on my skin—, I’ll leave right now and I won’t come back. If you say nothing, I stay. But don’t go playing saint afterward.

He waited there, with his fingers pressed still against my wet cunt. I closed my eyes. I said nothing. I opened my legs just a little. That was all it took.

***

I felt him slowly lifting my dress, leaving my back bare and my ass exposed. His fingers traced my skin as if counting, slowly, one by one, the things he was going to do. My stockings tore with a sharp sound when he yanked them down. Then he grabbed my panties by the elastic and ripped them off in one hard pull that made me moan. My face was burning and at the same time there was, somewhere in my belly, a pulse that wasn’t fear.

He spread my cheeks with both hands and bent down. I felt his hot tongue moving up from my clit to my asshole, without asking permission, without disgust, hungry. I screamed into the pillow. Hernán in thirty years had never put his mouth there even once. Matías ate my cunt from behind for very long minutes, pushing his tongue inside me, tugging at my lips with his teeth, running the tip over my ass while I thrashed like a madwoman against his face. I felt my first orgasm come, short and furious, clamping his tongue between my legs.

—Turn over —he ordered, his mouth shining with my juices.

I obeyed. I looked at him for the first time since he had come in. He was in my room, eyes bright and breathing hard, and he was taking off his belt. He was not the shy son-in-law from Sunday barbecues. He was a man who had come looking for something specific and knew I was going to give it to him.

—Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about you? —he said, and took down his pants—. Since long before the funeral. Every time I fucked Carolina I thought about you, mother-in-law. These tits. This cunt.

I didn’t answer. My voice wouldn’t come. His cock sprang out hard, pointing at me. It was big, much bigger than anything I had ever touched in my life. Thick, with marked veins, the head violet and already wet. For a second I had the absurd feeling my body wouldn’t know what to do with that. For another second, I knew it would.

He came closer to the bed. He took my hair gently, without hurting me, but without asking permission. He guided me toward him.

—Show me how you did my uncle —he said.

And although the phrase should have offended me, it didn’t. It did the opposite. I opened my mouth and took him. At first he wouldn’t fit, I had to open my jaw wide and let him push in little by little. I sucked him slowly, swallowing him as far as I could, then pulling him all the way out to lick the tip and take him back in. I slobbered over his balls, sucked them one by one while I jerked him with the other hand. He grabbed my head with both hands and started moving me to his rhythm, burying him deeper and deeper until I gagged and tears sprang to my eyes.

—That’s it, mother-in-law, that’s it. All the way down your throat.

I worked over him, slow, and when I heard him let out a muffled groan through clenched teeth, I knew this was going to be something else. That Matías’s desire was old, from before, and mine also had more years on it than I was willing to admit.

He pulled his cock from my mouth and ripped my dress off over my head. He looked at me naked, on the same bed where I had slept with his father-in-law, and smiled. He threw me back onto the mattress, spread my legs with both hands, and settled between them. With his hand he guided his cock to the entrance of my cunt and dragged it up and down, wetting it in my juices, brushing my clit with the tip.

—Ask for it —he said.

—Matías…

—Ask for it, mother-in-law.

—Put it in me —I said, and my voice came out broken, breathless—. Put it in me please.

He pushed in all at once, all the way to the hilt. I felt him opening me from the inside in a way I hadn’t remembered possible, filling me completely, my cunt stretching around that thick cock until it hurt and then it didn’t hurt anymore. I moaned loudly, without shame, into my own arm. He stayed still for a second, inside me to the balls, and then he started moving. Slowly at first, then faster, until the whole bed began banging against the wall.

—That’s it —he murmured—. Say what it is.

—I need it —I said, and my voice came out broken—. I’ve needed it for so long, Matías. Fuck me hard, please.

—Say who I am.

—My son-in-law. You’re my son-in-law. My daughter’s husband.

He laughed softly into my neck and drove into me deeper. He grabbed both my legs from behind the knees and lifted them up, pressing them against my chest, opening me completely for him. From that angle he entered a place inside me nobody had ever reached before. Every thrust tore a moan from me. I heard the sound of our skin slapping together, the wet noise of my soaked cunt swallowing his cock again and again, my own muffled cries.

—Turn over —he said, pulling out abruptly—. On all fours.

I turned without thinking. I got on all fours with my ass raised toward him, humiliated and lit up at the same time. He slammed his cock into me from behind with a hard thrust and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.

—Did my uncle fuck you like this, mother-in-law? Like this?

—Harder —I begged him—. Harder, Matías, for God’s sake.

He fucked me harder. He slapped my ass with his open hand, once, again, until it burned. He pushed his wet thumb, slick with my own juices, into my asshole and I screamed with a new, filthy pleasure I hadn’t known existed. I felt my own body answering him, my hips pushing back to find him, the orgasm building in me like a wave that had been held back for years. When I came, I came all at once. I convulsed from head to toe, my cunt clenching around his cock in spasms, biting the pillow so I wouldn’t wake the neighborhood.

—That’s it, mother-in-law —he said, panting, without stopping—. That’s it. Cum on my dick.

He finished inside me with a long groan, buried to the hilt, unloading shot after shot of hot semen into my womb while I kept trembling. I felt every pulse of his cock emptying inside me, and another small orgasm shook me on top of the first.

***

After that we lay still. He came out slowly and I felt it dripping down my thigh. My chest rose and fell as if I had run miles. His head was resting on my collarbone. For the first time since Hernán’s death, I felt the good kind of tired, not the gray fatigue of grief.

—Carolina can never know about this —I said to the ceiling.

—Never —he repeated.

—And this doesn’t happen again.

There was a silence. Then he propped himself up on one elbow, looked at me, and smiled in a way I didn’t know from him. With his hand he slid two fingers between my legs, gathered his own cum mixed with mine, and smeared it onto my lips. I opened and sucked his fingers without thinking.

—That’ll be your decision. But don’t lie to yourself, Marisol. You know I’m coming back.

An hour later I was under the shower, trying to wash away guilt with soap and hot water, my cunt still swollen and throbbing. When I reached out to turn off the tap, the bathroom door opened. Matías came in naked, his cock hard again, and kissed me for the first time on the mouth. He kissed me as if he had the right to, pushing his tongue all the way in, pressing me against the tiles. And I gave it to him.

He turned me against the wall, spread my legs with a gentle kick, and took me from behind under the stream of water. He fucked me slowly this time, for a very long time, biting my neck, grabbing my tits with both hands, whispering things in my ear that made me clench around his cock. I came twice like that, against the tiles, with hot water pouring over me. Then he pulled me out of the shower, threw me onto the wet bathroom rug, and made me finish a third time with his mouth between my legs before he came over my tits.

That afternoon, between the bed and the shower, I had four orgasms before he got dressed and went home to my daughter.

***

That was quite some time ago now. Matías comes to see me almost every week, sometimes twice. Carolina thinks her husband is a model son-in-law, attentive to the widow, willing to stop by with groceries and change the lightbulb in the hallway. And in part, that’s true. It’s also everything else. It’s also that he fucks me on top of the kitchen table where I have dinner with my daughter on Sundays, that he fills my mouth with semen on the same sofa where she sits to drink maté, that he leaves my cunt dripping with his load before he goes off to bed with her.

There are days when guilt tightens my throat and I think about confessing to my daughter. I think about kneeling at her feet and asking for forgiveness. Then a day passes, then another, the doorbell rings, I open the door, and there he is, with that face, with that cock that now knows my whole body, and I step aside to let him in.

My mother used to say you don’t talk about bedroom intimacies. I don’t talk either. But I live them. I live them in a way she never imagined, and, God forgive me, I don’t want it to stop.