My Uncle Found Us Like That and Didn’t Leave

We’d been on the sofa for more than an hour, the television on as both excuse and witness.

I was sitting on top of my father, my knees planted on either side of his thighs and my body weight spread between my legs and his hands, which held me by the waist without ever losing the rhythm. His cock went all the way into me every time I dropped my hips, a slow, deep impalement that tore a gasp from me whenever the base of it slapped against my clit. The screen was playing the moans from some video he’d put on before I came downstairs that afternoon. No one had turned the TV off when we moved to the sofa. By then, the sound was just background noise, something happening in another world while ours was happening here.

“Like that,” I told him, leaning forward to try to get his mouth. “Don’t stop. Fill me all the way, Daddy, like that, all the way.”

He held me tighter when I asked for that. He knew it, and did it anyway. He dug his thumbs into my hips and pushed me down while he lifted his ass off the sofa, meeting me halfway with a thrust that made me clench my teeth. He had that habit of reading me without my having to explain myself too much. His hands on my waist were big, firm, the same hands that had taught me to ride a bike and were now guiding me in a completely different way: one held me by the nape of my neck and the other went to one breast, pinching my nipple until it stood hard between his fingers.

“You’re so tight today,” he murmured against my neck, biting me where he knew it drove me crazy. “You’re sucking my cock with your cunt, daughter.”

I laughed softly, mouth open against his ear, and answered with a roll of my hips that drew a gasp out of him this time. I grabbed his face with both hands and ate his mouth with kisses while he kept riding me, feeling how every time he came almost all the way up and then back down, my cunt stretched around him and let out a wet slapping sound that had been echoing through the dining room for half an hour already.

We’d been like this for several months. It started without either of us being able to point to a single moment as the beginning. It was gradual, the way impossible things sometimes happen: first you tell yourself it isn’t what it looks like, then that it won’t happen again, then that it already happened and there’s no point pretending it didn’t. By the time I realized I was looking forward to it, counting the days between one weekend and the next, there was no going back.

The first time anything really happened was in the car, on the way back from a wedding we’d gone to alone together. I’d had a little more to drink than I should have. He was driving in silence. Without thinking, I put my hand on his thigh, the way I used to sometimes when I was little, and he didn’t move it away. Five minutes later I still hadn’t moved it. Ten minutes later I’d unzipped his fly and was giving him a slow handjob while he pretended to concentrate on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He came just as we were pulling into the driveway, in my hand, and I sucked my fingers one by one while he looked at me unable to speak. Neither of us said a word until we got home.

“Keep it down a little or the neighbor’ll hear,” my father murmured, his voice low and rough.

But he gave me a long thrust that completely contradicted the warning, so deep I felt the tip against a place inside me with no name, and a charge shot up to my throat and came out as a too-sharp moan. I covered my mouth with my palm and let myself go anyway, riding him faster and faster, feeling how I was dripping down the insides of my thighs and onto his pajama pants. I bit his shoulder to keep from shouting when the first orgasm caught me almost by surprise, clamping my pussy around his cock in spasms that made him groan.

“Fuck, daughter, like that, squeeze me like that,” he panted, grabbing my ass with both hands and spreading my cheeks while he kept fucking me from below.

The dining room lights were off. Only the television lit the room with those bluish flashes that changed intensity depending on what was on screen. We’d gotten used to fucking in the dark, as if the half-light gave us permission for what we were doing. What can’t be seen clearly is harder to deny exists. On the screen, some woman on all fours was taking two cocks at once and moaning in English something that sounded like a plea for more. I’d glimpsed it out of the corner of my eye when I sat on top of my father and had thought, without saying it, that it looked far too much like what we were about to do ourselves.

My father leaned his head back against the sofa and looked up at me from below. His eyes were half-closed and he had that expression of his I knew by heart, when he was close but wanted to hold out a little longer. I ran my fingers through his graying hair and he closed his eyes fully. He brought one hand up to my neck and squeezed just a little, with that firmness of his that wasn’t violence but a reminder of who was setting the pace.

“Good girl,” he said quietly. “My good girl.”

I don’t know why that sentence turned me on more than anything else he could have said. My cunt clenched all the way around his cock the second I heard it, and he felt it, because he smiled with his eyes still closed and pushed up harder again.

***

The sound of the key in the lock came when I least expected it.

I froze on top of him, his cock buried all the way in and no strength left to lift myself up. My father stopped too, head turning toward the door, calculating. I could feel every beat of him inside me, throbbing against the walls of my cunt, and I couldn’t move even to fake it.

The door opened.

My uncle Gerardo appeared in the entryway with the keys in his hand and his coat still on. He was my father’s older brother, two years older, the same broad build but with more gray at his temples and a way of moving that had always seemed slower to me, more deliberate, as if he calculated each gesture before making it. He’d had a key to our house since the renovation three years earlier. He never gave it back then and no one asked him for it after. Showing up unannounced was something he did from time to time, always with good intentions, always at the worst possible moment.

This time, at the worst of all possible moments.

He stood motionless in the doorway.

His eyes swept the dining room: the television still on with the woman on screen getting fucked by two men, both our clothes on the floor, my panties hanging off the arm of the sofa, me on top of his brother with nothing on, tits bare and nipples hard, and his brother very clearly inside me, cock buried to the base between my ass cheeks. It took him a second to put the whole scene together in his head. I saw it on his face, that process of disbelief that has no shortcuts.

“But...” he began.

The sentence went nowhere.

My father leaned back against the sofa with a calm that impressed even me, not pulling out, not covering me, letting his brother see exactly what was happening.

“Close the door, Gerardo.”

“Ernesto, what the hell is this?” my uncle managed to say, but his voice sounded strange, without the firmness he would have needed to make it into a real reprimand. There was something else there, something I wouldn’t have known how to name if I hadn’t seen it in his eyes: he wasn’t looking away. And lower down, in his pants, something was starting to show through the fabric with a clarity he wasn’t hiding either.

“What you see,” my father said.

I didn’t move. Not to cover myself, not to get off. I don’t know exactly what made me stay still instead of jumping off the sofa. Maybe instinct, that paralysis that comes before the brain has fully processed what’s happening. Maybe something more calculated, something I recognized in myself without fully understanding it: the weight of my uncle’s gaze, the way he was taking in the scene without looking away from my tits and from where his brother was fucking me, and the fact that he still hadn’t left.

He’d been standing there longer than he would have needed if he only wanted to go.

“Hi, Uncle,” I said, and held his gaze while very slowly I let my hips drop another inch, feeling my father’s cock fill me all over again.

Gerardo looked at my face. He swallowed. His eyes flicked involuntarily to the bulge in his own pants and back to me.

***

My father moved again. Just once, softly, as if reminding me he was still there, but it was enough to draw out a short moan that echoed through the dark dining room. I answered with a small roll of my hips I couldn’t stop, and then another, longer one, rising almost to the tip and sinking back down again, never taking my eyes off my uncle.

“Ernesto, this is insane,” my uncle said. But he didn’t leave. He closed the door behind him. He stayed standing in the dining room with his coat still on, watching his brother fuck me on the sofa.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” my father said. “Nobody’s forcing you into anything.”

Gerardo looked at both of us for a long moment. He looked at the television, where all of that was still playing. Then he looked at me, and down at the exact point where his brother’s cock was going in and out of my cunt with a wet shine visible even in the TV’s blue light.

I straightened slowly on top of my father, enough for the position to be completely obvious, for Gerardo to see clearly how he had me buried to the hilt, and I pushed my hair out of my face. I ran my tongue over my lips, slowly, and gave him the smile I’d been keeping for half an hour for my father.

“If you’re staying, stay properly,” I told him. “Come here, Uncle. Take it out.”

I hadn’t planned to say that. But when I did, I saw something change on my uncle’s face. The look of shock lasted one second longer and then broke, like a wall that had been about to give way for too long.

He took off his coat. He dropped it on the entryway floor without looking where it landed.

***

My father repositioned me slowly, pulling out carefully and setting me on my knees on the big cushion with my hands on the armrest, my ass lifted and offered. He shoved back into me from behind in a single deep thrust that tore a cry from me, and I had to bite my lip to stay quieter. Gerardo approached with that deliberate step of his, no longer wearing his belt, pants pulled down to his thighs and his cock out. He stopped in front of me without quite deciding, looking at me, the tip already shining with pre-cum.

I was the one who closed the distance.

I reached out and took him by the base. It was different from my father’s. Thicker, heavier in my hand when I took it, with a wider glans and a darker tone. I stroked it slowly a couple of times, looking him in the eyes, and saw his mouth part without him managing to say anything. When I took him in my mouth, I felt my jaws had to open wider than I was used to, and that made me close my eyes and breathe through my nose to get him in properly. I lowered my head until the tip touched my throat and came back up slowly, leaving a trail of saliva along the whole length.

“Holy fucking shit,” my uncle whispered, voice breaking. “Niece, fuck, like that.”

The two of them started moving me at the same time. My father set the pace from behind, deep and slow at first, like when he’s still calculating how far he can go, holding my hips with both hands and spreading my cheeks to watch himself go in. Each thrust pushed me forward and made me swallow more of my uncle’s cock, and every time my father pulled out I lifted my head and took Gerardo to the tip so I could suck only the glans before going back down. Without meaning to, the three of us found a rhythm, a back-and-forth that sounded like skin against skin, like wet slapping, like my own saliva dripping down my chin and onto the cushion.

Gerardo gradually let go: his shoulders dropped, his breathing changed. He went from hovering, not knowing where to put his hands, to tangling his fingers in my hair with a pressure that told me he’d already crossed the point of no return. He held me by the back of the neck with both hands and started setting the pace in my mouth himself, fucking my mouth with short, deep thrusts, not letting me catch my own breath anymore.

“Swallow it all, niece, like that, fuck, how you suck it,” my uncle panted, eyes fixed on the way his cock was going in and out of my mouth.

Behind me, my father had switched to a rougher rhythm. He slapped my ass just enough to make my cunt clench around him, and every time he landed a slap the skin burned and I moaned with my mouth full.

“She’s learning well, huh?” my father said to his brother, with a smile in his voice I’d never heard from him before. “Take it all the way in. Hold it.”

The dining room no longer sounded like just the TV.

“Fuck,” my uncle said at one point, when I pushed his cock up against the back of my nose and stayed there for a few seconds, fighting the gag reflex. “Fuck, fuck, like that.”

It was the most articulate he was for the next twenty minutes.

My father and he didn’t speak to each other during that time, at least not in words. There was something strange about watching how they coordinated without looking at each other, how they adjusted their rhythm to one another without negotiating it, how when one sped up the other eased off to give me space, and vice versa. Two men raised together, with the same rhythms learned as children. Blood from the same father, I supposed. Bodies that know the same beat even when they don’t mean to.

I was in the middle of them and felt the difference between one and the other, their way of moving, their temperature, the different weight of their hands, the different taste in my mouth. My uncle’s cock felt heavier on my tongue, had a stronger taste, more like an unfamiliar man, and my father’s filled me from behind with that familiarity I already knew by heart and which now felt different because another pair of eyes was watching. It was a difference I hadn’t anticipated and that I found, for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, completely irresistible. Every time Gerardo pulled his cock from my mouth to let me breathe, I held it in my hand and ran it over my cheek, my lips, my breasts, letting my face get marked by the mix of his pre-cum and my saliva.

***

At some point Gerardo knelt behind me too, and my father moved to the front. The roles changed without anyone saying a word, with the fluidity of something that, absurdly, seemed rehearsed. My father sat on the edge of the sofa with his cock shining with me, and I lowered my mouth over him without him needing to ask, tasting myself on my father’s skin while I felt my uncle settling behind me.

Gerardo spread my ass cheeks with both hands and stared at my open cunt for a long time before moving. I heard him let out a low moan, like someone who can’t quite believe what’s in front of him. Then he ran the tip up and down over my lips, soaking himself, rubbing his cock against my clit until I started pushing backward with my hips, looking for him with my mouth still full of my father.

“Put it in, Uncle,” I begged when I let go of my father’s cock for a second. “Put it in already, please.”

Gerardo went into me in a single long thrust that tore a strangled cry out of me against my father’s thigh. He was thicker than my father, and he opened me in a way I felt in my stomach. He stayed still for a moment, breathing deeply, and then he started moving. He fucked slowly. Very slowly, with that kind of cadence that forces the other person’s body to pay attention to every detail, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in to the hilt with deliberate slowness.

“You’re so tight, Ernesto,” my uncle murmured behind me, more to himself than to anyone. “What a marvelous niece.”

“I was just about to tell you,” my father answered softly, while he held my head and guided me back down onto his cock. “Suck it properly, daughter, look at me.”

I clung to my father’s thighs while I took him all the way into my mouth, and he looked into my face with that expression of his that wasn’t exactly tenderness but wasn’t anything else either, watching his brother fuck me from behind and me suck him off from the front at the same time.

“Are you okay?” he asked me quietly.

“Yes,” I told him, my voice rough, pulling off for a moment to breathe. “I’m very good, Daddy. I’m very good.”

When Gerardo really tried, he did it carefully. He pulled his cock out of my dripping cunt and rubbed it higher, against the other hole, patiently. First pressure, with the tip soaked in me, then a pause, waiting for my answer. I relaxed and pushed back a little, giving him permission. My father stayed still, with his cock in my mouth, and the two men communicated in that strange, implicit way they’d been developing over the course of that hour. Gerardo’s glans forced its way in slowly around the ring and entered, and I let go of my father for a moment to release a long, low moan I hadn’t been able to hold in.

“Ah, fuck,” I panted. “Ah, like that, Uncle, like that, slowly.”

Gerardo eased in centimeter by centimeter, holding my hips with both hands and giving me just enough time to adjust between thrusts. When he got all the way in, he stayed there for a moment, breathing against my back.

The adjustment period lasted as long as it took me to exhale the air I’d been holding, and after the first pain there was only the sensation of fullness, a fullness I hadn’t anticipated. My father understood without me saying anything and started fucking me in front again, slower, matching his brother’s rhythm. Feeling both of them at once, their movements meeting inside me, separated by barely an inch of my own body, was something without words. I felt so full I could barely breathe.

“My God,” I said, more to myself than to either of them. “My God, I can’t, it’s too much.”

“Sssh,” my father murmured, half-smiling, brushing my hair out of my face with absurd tenderness given the circumstances. “Yes, you can. Look at yourself. Hold out a little longer for us.”

The two of them started moving together carefully, testing, searching for the rhythm. When they found it, something in me gave way completely, like the tension of a rope that’s been stretched too long. They began coordinating, one entering as the other pulled out, drawing little cries from me with every double thrust, until they found a pace that was more theirs than mine. I stopped thinking about anything else. I was just there, between the two of them, taking everything they gave me, with my clit burning against the cushion and my whole body starting to shake in a way I recognized as the prelude to something that was going to split me in two.

“She’s about to come,” my father said in a dark voice. “Look at her face. She’s about to come with both of us inside.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I started repeating, with no control left over what I was saying. “Make me come, make me come inside with both of you, please, make me come.”

***

What happened after that is hard to order, because the body, in those moments, doesn’t file things in sequence. What I remember is the sound of the three of us breathing in the dark dining room, Gerardo’s hands on my hips leaving bruises I’d find the next day, and my father’s on my face, holding it, forcing me to look at him. The heat of both of them at once, sweat-slick skin against my back, my father’s thighs under my elbows. The sensation of not knowing where one began and the other ended, as if the three of us had become one single thing for a moment.

I came first, my body trembling between them, both holes clenching around their cocks with spasms that tore a long cry out of me I couldn’t smother and that had probably been heard from the street. My vision went blurry for a whole second, and I heard both of them groan almost at once when they felt me tighten. Then my father, with that sound of his I already knew by heart, a low growl that started in his chest and came out through his throat when he emptied himself into my cunt in three, four spurts I felt hot against the walls. He stayed still for a moment, panting, and slowly pulled out, letting the semen drip down his thighs and inside me. Gerardo was the last, with a deep, restrained groan that had been in him far longer than the moment he crossed that door. He grabbed my hair with one hand, drove his cock back to the hilt with a final thrust that made me fold in half, and feeling him empty inside me was something that traveled through my whole body, warm and deep, wringing the last shiver of orgasm from me when I thought it was already over.

He stayed inside me for a while, his cock throbbing, forehead pressed to my back, breathing against my skin. When he finally pulled out, he did it slowly, and I felt him drip down my thighs and onto the carpet.

The three of us ended up on the dining room carpet because at some point we’d slid off the sofa without noticing. The television was still on. The bluish light covered all three of us equally, without distinction, and lit my tits and belly smeared with mess, and the two cocks still shining with me on the thighs of the two men.

My uncle Gerardo lay on his back and stared at the ceiling for a while. He was breathing slowly, eyes open, like someone taking inventory of what had just happened to him.

“I never gave your TV remote back,” he told his brother, for no apparent reason.

My father took a moment to answer.

“No. You never gave it back.”

I rested my head on my uncle’s chest and closed my eyes, feeling the semen from both of them still slowly running down my thighs. His hand drifted down to my hair on its own and stayed there, still. The other went up to one of my breasts almost curiously, and stayed there too. Outside, it was starting to get dark. On the television, someone was moaning in a language none of the three of us understood. Nobody was in any hurry to go anywhere.