Sunday After-Lunch at the Country House

The plan for that Sunday was simple: a barbecue at the country house, a tour of the expansion works, and, as evening fell, everyone back to the city. My husband Bruno would drive with his father Ricardo and with mine, while I would stay behind alone until Monday to clean the new wing and think about the decor.

Our mothers had already gone to the coast a few days earlier, to air out the family house and the apartment where we were all going to get together for New Year’s. The men handled the barbecue; the women, the furniture under sheets and the empty fridges. Each to their own.

We arrived very early. Bruno unloaded the things from the trunk and went straight to the clay oven. Andrés, his best friend and business partner, joined us at the last kilometer with his pickup. My father came behind in his own. Ricardo, my father-in-law, no longer drove since last year and brought only a thermos and the mate ready for after lunch.

—Did we arrive comfortably? —Bruno asked me, kissing me over my shoulder.

—Comfortably. Beers in the fridge, appetizers ready. All that’s left is to light the fire.

While the men settled in on the veranda, Bruno’s cell phone rang. He lifted his eyebrows when he saw the name, looked at me for a second, and walked out to the patio. It was Hugo, the engineer from the work site, and Bruno found it strange that he wasn’t calling me directly. I kept cutting cheese and gave them space.

When Bruno came back, he had that mischievous smile that only appears when something concerns me. He took me into the utility kitchen.

—Hugo wants to see you more often —he said softly—. He called to ask me if I’d mind if you and he saw each other from time to time. Respectfully, he said. No ulterior motives beyond the obvious.

My body shivered. Hugo wants more. The previous Saturday had been the first time I had received him as a client, and honestly I wanted a repeat too. Bruno knew about my parallel life, knew my select clients, and he had never made a single wrong move about it.

—And what did you tell him?

—That I have an idea. That tonight I’m going back to the city with the old folks and you’re staying here alone. If you want, I’ll tell him to come at nine and stay until tomorrow.

I kissed him slowly. It wasn’t a kiss of gratitude: it was one of those long kisses you give a husband who understands what my desire is made of. Bruno knows my body receives pleasure from many hands, but my love belongs entirely to him. That’s the only thing that matters.

—Call him. Tell him I’m expecting him at nine and that tonight is a continuation of Saturday, no fees.

We toured the work after coffee. The original house, the barbecue area the previous owner had added, and now, perpendicular at the far end, the new wing: an ensuite bedroom overlooking the river, a game room, and a changing room for the pool that was still just a trench. The most striking feature was a three-meter-wide veranda running along the whole wing. It faced the inner courtyard, where the pool would be heated by the end of January. We had put up plastic curtains to close off the front in case of rain, and air conditioning for the days of extreme heat.

We had the barbecue at two. I had put on a loose cotton dress that stuck to my legs in the breeze. During coffee, I noticed more than one bulge hidden under trousers. It was no accident: it was the natural effect of a long Sunday, midday wine, and a woman who knows how to move with the confidence of knowing she’s already known in every way.

When the coffee was over, I set the cups on the counter and leaned against the back of one of the living-room armchairs.

—Well. The new wing still needs cleaning, but I’ll do that tomorrow. For now, maybe we can come up with something nice for the afternoon.

My father was settled on the big sofa, his jacket laid beside him and his shoes still fastened. He lifted his hand and called me over with a gesture. I walked up to him and stood facing him.

—After what they told us they did to you yesterday, do you think you can handle the four of us?

—Dad, not only can I. I’ll do it with pleasure.

He pulled me toward him. With one movement he lifted my dress, and since I was standing right in front of him, my cunt ended up at mouth level. I opened my legs a little to help him. I felt his warm tongue and knew, in that instant, that the afternoon wasn’t going to be short.

Andrés came up behind me and pulled my dress over my head. Bruno and Ricardo took care of my breasts, one on each side. Andrés began rubbing his cock between my ass cheeks, slowly, without putting it in.

—I want you like on your wedding night —my father murmured, referring to the position Bruno had taken me in that night, desperate, in the hotel.

I moved until I was at the sofa arm. I bent my body, braced my hands, kept my legs firm on the floor and spread. My torso rested on the seat. The sofa is leather and has a washable cover: we chose it that way because we almost never use that part of the living room, except on Sundays like this.

My father came up behind me. He rubbed his cock against my half-open lips for a long while, unhurried. I loved feeling him like that, so mine, so intimate. So excited to take his daughter, that supposedly forbidden thing that between us was just another afternoon.

He slid into me in one motion. I was so wet he went in gliding. He started a steady, deep rhythm, and each time he reached the bottom he left me still for a few seconds before pulling out.

—I’m going to knock you up like this —he told me as he came inside me.

I didn’t answer. There was no need. I enjoyed everything: his desire, his tenderness, that supposedly forbidden father-and-daughter relationship that in our house had never been a drama.

When he pulled out, my father-in-law gave me no respite. He took me right away, bending his body over mine.

—I’ll always thank you for letting me fuck you —he said in a low voice, even though everyone heard him.

Ricardo’s fucking was different. Slow, methodical. He pushed it all the way in, pulled it out to the edge of the head, went back in. Bruno had put his face under my tits and was sucking them; Andrés was content to give me two fingers for me to suck. When Ricardo came, I felt all of him: it had been almost a month since he’d been with his woman and he emptied himself inside me without restraint. I started dripping onto the floor a couple of minutes later. I’d clean it up later.

Andrés kept going. He pushed it in to the balls; that position allowed him to. His breathing was ragged. He changed pace: sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always deep. He slapped my ass, played with a finger at the entrance to my hole, almost an announcement of the second round.

—I want to see you leaking outside —he told me, and came almost at the entrance to my cunt. Almost all of it fell to the floor.

—Your turn, Mr. Director —he said, looking at Bruno with a smirk.

—Thank you, Mr. Manager —Bruno replied, laughing.

Bruno had me suck him for a few seconds. Then it was his turn to go in. I know him: he started with two centimeters and pulled out, repeating it and pushing in a little more each time, and I asked him, “more, more, put it all in,” because I know that turns him on. I came before he did, exhausted from so many cocks in a row. When Bruno finished, there was already a small puddle on the floor.

I threw myself on top of him, stretched out on the sofa. Exhausted, truly.

***

We cooled off. Rehydrated. Went back to the living room in silence, not bothering much to fix our clothes. A while later we were at it again. Hands going back and forth. Tongues desperate to braid themselves with mine. Spit dripping into my open mouth.

Cocks to suck and cocks to stroke. Tongues licking my ass and cunt, still with traces of semen, without the slightest hint of modesty.

Andrés tossed two cushions onto the floor. I had no doubt: he was going to be the first to fuck my ass.

I got on all fours and lifted my ass.

—Not inside, boys. In the tits and on the face, at the end, all together.

Andrés worked me up well with spit. His finger felt for the opening and found it loose, ready. Resting the head there and sliding the whole cock in took five seconds. I was open, wanting it, and I enjoyed it with no real pain. He gave it to me hard, a slap now and then. He pulled out before finishing to join in at the end with everyone else.

Bruno took his place. My father lay down beneath my face so we could kiss while Bruno fucked my ass. I didn’t expect what happened next: Ricardo positioned himself over my body, in front of Bruno, bent his legs, and pressed the head of his dick against my already occupied opening. He saw he could make it, spat on the head, and pushed.

I, who have had double vaginal before several times, felt this and doubted it would go in.

Bruno froze. Ricardo kept pushing. It hurt, but I wanted to try and didn’t complain. When it went in, a muffled “ahhh” slipped out of me. They started moving in sync. The sphincter was tight, almost at the limit, but I held it and enjoyed it for a long minute. Before they came inside, both of them pulled out.

I kept kissing my father while my ass recovered. Him fucking me was almost a formality after Ricardo and Bruno together. After a while he pulled out.

I knelt in front of the four of them, joking that very few women in the world must have had both husband and father-in-law in their ass at the same time. The four of them were jerking off frantically. I offered them my tits and my face, and they started spilling over me. They weren’t especially abundant loads —they were already on the second round— but they covered my mouth and a good part of my breasts.

***

—Let’s go to the shower. All of us.

I got to the big bathroom in the new wing and knelt down again.

—Dad, Ricardo, now comes the pre-shower. I want you to take part.

—Yes —Bruno said—. Come closer.

Bruno and Andrés started first, warm and abundant. Ricardo didn’t come closer. My father took a step, looked at me for a second, and said only:

—What a slut you are!

He joined in. And with that, Ricardo joined in too, cock in hand and eyes down, as if he were allowing himself something new.

After that, the four of us showered. They took turns soaping me and groping me too much. I was dying of happiness: objective achieved. We had something cool in the veranda, already dressed. I told them that the pre-shower was starting to grow on me, and they got excited, promising to keep training me until I could open my mouth.

Toward the end of the afternoon they left. Bruno gave me the last kiss at the gate.

—Enjoy it with Hugo. I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m at the office.

I was left alone, with the evening light coming through the new veranda and nine o’clock still far away. I drew myself a bath, put on something comfortable, and poured myself a glass of wine. Hugo was going to arrive on time: that kind of man always arrives on time. And tomorrow, before heading back to the city, a surprise I hadn’t planned was waiting for me. But that part I’ll tell you next time.

Kisses to my readers.

Mariana.