That New Year’s Eve I Kissed My Brother in Secret

I’m going to tell something I promised myself I’d keep forever, but so many years have passed that it almost feels like it happened to someone else. Almost. Just in case, I’m not going to give real names, or the neighborhood, or my family. The only thing that matters is what happened that New Year’s Eve at my Aunt Mariela’s house.

We were a big family. The little cousins ran around between the chairs, my uncles were opening beers out in the patio, the women were going back and forth from the kitchen with steaming trays. I, with my cousins Lucía and Camila, was sitting at a separate table in the back, the three of us with glasses of wine and a taste for gossip. We were all over twenty already, and we thought it was funny to be able to drink next to the adults without anyone giving us a dirty look.

It was about an hour before midnight when my uncle Andrés arrived with his wife and my little cousins. They lived far away, in another country, and only showed up every two or three years. There was a commotion. My uncle was the life of the party, so he went around the house handing out hugs. When it was my turn, I stood up, hugged him hard, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek so close to my mouth that half our lips brushed. It lasted a second and neither of us reacted. But I spent a while thinking about that little accident. I’m not going to lie: I liked it. I felt a stupid tingle between my legs that I blamed on the wine and on my cunt’s bad habit of reacting to anything silly.

The night went on. The men went out to the patio to smoke, the women were still in the kitchen finishing dinner, and I, already a little lightheaded from the wine, was laughing with my cousins at anything and everything. I was in the middle of that when my brother Mateo appeared crossing the dining room with a look of annoyance. He came over, showed me a shirt button that had come off, and asked if I could sew it back on. Mateo had always been kind of useless at that sort of thing, and ever since we were kids I’d been the one who ended up fixing everything for him.

—I don’t have a needle —I told him.

—I do —Lucía jumped in—. Mom keeps the whole sewing kit in the bedside table drawer. Go upstairs.

Mateo and I went up to the second floor. The music and the family’s shouting stayed below, muffled by the ceiling boards. My aunt’s bedroom smelled like sweet perfume and the curtains were drawn. I found the sewing kit in two minutes, opened it on the bed, and told my brother to come closer.

—Sit down, I’m not going to rip it off —I said, pointing at the shirt.

Mateo sat down beside me, on the edge of the bed, and I settled myself a little sideways to reach his collar. I had to get quite close. I could feel the heat of his body on my arm, the smell of the cologne he’d put on for the party. While I sewed, we talked about stupid things. How the new apartment was going, how it had already been three months since he moved, how he missed sleeping in his old room.

—I miss you too, idiot —I told him.

When I finished the last stitch, he smiled, thanked me, and opened his arms. I hugged him, made the move to kiss him on the cheek, but at that exact instant he turned his head toward me and my lips landed right on his.

We both froze, eyes wide, not quite pulling apart. I felt the blood rush to his face. Mine too, I guess. To do something, I laughed.

—That’s a weird way to say thank you —he said, still red.

—It was an accident —I answered, laughing too.

—Ah, well —he said, and leaned in again—. Then so was mine.

And he gave me a quick peck on the lips. Another accident, just like my uncle’s, but this time in slow motion. Then he laughed again.

—Oops, I slipped —he said.

I played along and gave him one back.

—Oops, I slipped too.

He gave me another. I gave him his back. We started trading quick pecks, one after another, saying nothing, still laughing at first, then no laughter anymore, just taking the kiss and giving it back, like a game neither of us wanted to be the first to end.

At some point we stopped laughing. The pecks became slower, longer. The smiles vanished from our faces. Mateo rested his hand on my back, gently, and I slid both hands up to take his cheeks. Without thinking, I tilted his face a little to align it with mine. The bedside lamp was a soft, yellow light. The music kept playing downstairs, very far away.

***

The first brush of tongue came almost without us realizing it. My brother opened his mouth a little and I did the same, and the tips of our tongues touched for a second. We pulled apart like we’d been startled, looked into each other’s eyes, and came back together.

This time it wasn’t an accident. This time we wanted it.

Mateo kissed slowly, as if he were learning every inch of my mouth. He did things to me you don’t do to a sister. And I let him do them. I held the back of his neck with one hand, opened my mouth wider, and then yes, his tongue and mine twisted together for real. We devoured each other’s mouths shamelessly, saliva against saliva, barely biting at each other’s lips, sucking on each other’s tongues like they were something else. I remember the detail of pressing our mouths together to form a kind of tunnel and letting our tongues search for each other inside, without separating, without breathing. I held him against me so he wouldn’t even think of pulling away. The only sound in the room was the wet noise of the kisses and our broken breathing, and, very far below, the throb of my cunt getting wet through my panties.

At one point, playing around, I pushed his tongue back into his mouth with mine. Mateo laughed inside the kiss and we started some stupid little tongue fight, like when we were kids fighting over the remote. He managed to lay his tongue over mine and, without really pulling away, he told me:

—I won.

—Cheater. Rematch —I replied.

And we went at it again. This time there was no game anymore. This time there was hunger.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. My brother. The same skinny kid who used to yank my braids in the schoolyard. The same one who would die laughing when I tripped at birthday parties. And now he was kissing me like he’d spent years thinking about doing it, and I was kissing him back with the same intensity, sitting on our aunt’s bed, in the middle of a family party, with my tits hard under my blouse and my panties already starting to stick to me.

It was hot in the room. I took off the knit cardigan I was wearing without thinking and tossed it to one side of the bed. Under it I had a fitted white camisole blouse, one of those thin ones that cling to the body. Mateo looked at my cleavage for two seconds longer than a brother should ever allow himself. I saw the bulge start to show in his dress pants, a thick line shifting down his thigh that he didn’t bother to hide. Then, without stopping kissing me, he slid his hand over the fabric and touched my breasts. It wasn’t a timid brush. He squeezed them, settled them in his hand like he’d known them his whole life, found my nipples with his thumb and rubbed them through the blouse until they stood up hard as stones.

—Can I confess something? —he whispered in my ear, still holding me.

—What?

—When I lived at home, I used to get all worked up seeing you come out in those little blouses. Worked up in a good way, I mean. I used to jerk off thinking about your tits, idiot. Seriously. I’d lock myself in the bathroom with that image and cum like an animal.

—Liar —I whispered, though I felt my cunt clench as I listened to him.

—I swear. Your tits used to show and I didn’t know where to put myself. I’d come out of your room with a hard dick and go jerk off thinking about you. Every week. Sometimes twice a day.

He lowered his mouth to my neck and started kissing me there. I closed my eyes. His hand left my breasts and slipped under the blouse, straight onto the skin of my stomach. It was warm. He caressed my belly with the tips of his fingers, slowly, while barely nibbling at the skin on my neck, and little by little he moved up to my bra cup. He hooked a finger under the edge and yanked it down without ceremony. My breast popped out, heavy, with my nipple standing red and hard. Mateo took it fully in his hand and squeezed it, weighed it, bent down and sucked on it like he was thirsty.

—God —he murmured against my skin—. God, your tits are so good.

He licked my nipple with his whole tongue, in slow circles, then caught it between his teeth and tugged just a little. I let out a short moan I tried to cover with my hand. He had my breast out, sucking it on the edge of our aunt’s bed, while the whole family celebrated downstairs. His other hand found my second breast and bared it the same way, with the same abrupt yank at the bra, and he started sucking on both in turn, mouth open, leaving my skin all slobbery.

—You’ve got a nice belly —he murmured, lifting up for a second—. This belly suits you. I’ve imagined a thousand times how I’d fuck you, idiot. A thousand times.

—Shut up —I told him, but I didn’t want him to shut up at all.

He slid his index finger into my navel and caressed it like it was a secret spot. I arched my back a little without meaning to. He noticed and moved his hand lower, to the button of my pants. He unfastened it in one motion and slipped his fingers under my panties before I could say anything. When he touched me, he gave a low growl against my breast.

—Look at you. You’re soaked.

—Mateo…

—Soaked, little sister. Dripping.

He ran his middle finger along my slit, front to back, without hurrying, and pulled it out shining with my wetness. He held it up for a second with a crooked smile, then put it in his mouth and sucked it slowly, looking me in the eyes.

—Delicious —he said.

He kissed me again with the taste of my cunt still on his tongue. His other hand had already returned between my legs and this time he wasn’t playing: he opened my lips with two fingers and drove his middle finger inside me to the knuckle. I bit his shoulder to keep from shouting. He started moving it inside me with his palm facing up, looking for a spot he found right away, and at the same time he rested his thumb on my clit and began rubbing it in circles. Four strokes and I was already clinging to his shirt, shaking, with my legs spread over our aunt’s bed like a bitch.

—Take your pants off —he told me in my ear—. Come on.

I obeyed without thinking. I lifted my hips and he pulled them down with my panties, one hard tug, to mid-thigh. I finished taking them off with my feet and there I was, blouse hiked up over my tits and cunt bare, shining under the yellow lamp light. Mateo pulled back a second to look at me. He ran his tongue over his lips.

—Jesus Christ, little sister. Jesus Christ.

He knelt between my legs before I could say anything. He bent down and buried his mouth in my cunt without warning. I felt his whole tongue press against me, sliding up from the opening to the clit in one long lick, and staying there, sucking me, moving his tongue in and out, nursing my clit like it was a little nipple. My back arched on its own. I grabbed his head with both hands and dug my fingers into his hair, and he ate me harder, growling against my cunt. I could hear the wet sound of his mouth slapping against me and I felt ashamed and turned on in equal measure.

—Mateo… Mateo, they’re going to come upstairs…

—Shut up —he answered without lifting his mouth—. Come here. Come for me.

He slipped two fingers into me while he sucked my clit and then I was done. I came biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t howl, pressing his head against my cunt, my legs closing around his ears. I felt the contractions roll through me one after another, long, while he kept licking without stopping until I pushed against his forehead to make him ease off. He rose with his mouth and chin shining.

—Tasty, tasty, tasty —he repeated—. You’re going to kill me, little sister.

He wiped himself with the back of his hand and stood at the foot of the bed. I watched his hands go to his belt. I knew I should stop him. That I should say enough, get off the damn thing, get dressed, and go back downstairs to the family. But I didn’t say anything. I devoured him with my eyes as he undid the buckle, the button, the zipper, and pulled his pants and boxer briefs down to his knees.

His cock sprang out hard, harder than I think I’d ever seen one in my life, red at the tip, with a clear drop showing. My brother. My brother was looking at me with his dick out, jerking it just a little with his hand, waiting for me to say something.

I made a little gesture with my finger for him to come closer. He moved forward and I sat up, still on the edge of the bed, and took his cock in my hand. It was hot and heavy. I stroked it up and down twice, looking him in the eyes, and then I took it into my mouth without looking away.

—Oh, fuck —he panted—. Fuck, little sister.

I sucked him all the way. I licked the tip first, in circles, then slid him into my mouth little by little, pushing him with my tongue against my palate. I grabbed the base with one hand and worked him myself, setting the rhythm, with my other hand sunk between his thighs, holding his balls. Mateo had both hands on my head but he wasn’t pushing: he was going with me, watching me, mouth open and eyes half-closed. I pulled him out of my mouth and licked the head all over, then went down the vein and sucked one ball, then the other, and came back up to the tip and took him all the way down again.

—Come on, come on, get up —he told me, tugging gently at my shoulder—. Keep that up and I’m going to lose it.

He pulled his cock out of my mouth with a nervous laugh. He bent down, kissed me hard on the mouth —I could taste himself mixed with me— and shoved me back. I fell onto our aunt’s bed, on my back, blouse up over my tits and cunt open for him.

—Put something on me —I whispered—. I didn’t bring anything.

—Nothing —he answered—. Just a little while. Just to know. I swear, then I’ll pull out.

He got on top of me. I felt the head of his cock rest at the entrance of my cunt and rub up and down, smearing itself in my wetness. He was looking me in the eyes, breathing hard through his nose. I nodded. Not with my head, not even with my lips; with my whole body. I lifted my legs and hooked my heels around his waist, and he pushed.

He went in all at once. The whole cock. We both made the same sound at the same time, a broken moan deep in the throat, and we stayed still for a second, looking at each other as if we’d just broken something enormous that couldn’t be fixed. Then he started moving. Slowly at first, with his mouth pressed to my neck, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in slowly so I could feel every bit of him. I dug my nails into his back over his shirt. I felt my brother’s cock going into me again and again, and I couldn’t believe it, and at the same time I didn’t want him to stop.

—Harder —I begged in his ear—. Fuck me harder, come on.

—Goddamn it, little sister —he panted—. Goddamn it, the way you talk.

He started thrusting for real. My aunt’s bed creaked under us and I didn’t give a damn. He rammed into me all the way, his pelvis bumping my clit with every stroke, and I lifted my hips to take him. He grabbed one breast with his hand and brought it back to his mouth without stopping fucking. I had my hand wedged between us and was rubbing my clit with two fingers while he drove into me. I was about to come again.

—You’re going to fill me up with cum, brat —I growled, not recognizing my own voice—. Not inside. Don’t shoot it inside me.

—No, no —he panted—. Not inside. Hold on.

We changed positions without him coming out all the way. He made me turn over and I ended up on all fours on our aunt’s bed, face buried in the pillow. The pillow smelled like his cologne. Mateo settled in behind me and drove his cock back into me in one push. From there he fucked me deeper, both hands on my hips, pulling me against him, marking my waist with his fingers. I could hear the wet sound of his cock going in and out, the slap of his thighs against my ass, the bed’s creaking, my own breath choking against the pillow.

He slid his thumb into my ass while he was fucking me. I jumped and he left it there, still, so I could get used to it, and kept pushing his cock into my cunt. I came a second time with my face pressed into the mattress, biting the pillowcase so I wouldn’t scream, feeling myself tighten all around him. Mateo held on a little longer and then started speeding up.

—That’s it, that’s it, pull out —I gasped.

—Where —he groaned—. Where do you want me to cum it.

—On my tits. In my mouth. Whatever you want. Pull it out.

He pulled out just in time. I turned around at the speed of light and knelt in front of him on the bed. I grabbed his cock with my hand, stroked it three or four times fast with my own wetness still shining over it, and he let out a deep moan and unloaded onto my chest. One shot hit his face, his chin. The rest landed on my tits and ran down my stomach, hot, sticky. I felt one trail all the way to my navel. Mateo was shaking all over, gripping my shoulder so he wouldn’t fall.

When he was done, he stayed on his knees in front of me, with his cock still hard in his hand and glassy eyes, looking at me covered in his cum. I ran my finger over one breast, picked up semen with it, and put it in my mouth. He let out a defeated sound.

—You’re a fucking bitch —he whispered, smiling with a loose mouth.

—You’re the one who came all over me —I shot back.

***

I don’t know how many seconds I stayed like that, kneeling on my aunt’s bed, with my brother’s cum dripping over my tits and my mouth shut because if I opened it I’d say something stupid. Mateo was breathing hard over me, shirt half unbuttoned and his cock only slightly softening against my thigh. I was absolutely sure, completely sure, that in a minute we were going to be lying in our aunt’s bed again doing things we’d never be able to erase from our minds. I looked at his face and I knew he thought the same.

And then I heard the shout.

—Happy New Year!

It came up from the dining room like a bomb. The whole house exploded with joy. Horns, glasses clinking, my cousins shrieking, my father yelling “cheers!” in that party voice he always had when there was wine involved.

Mateo and I pulled apart as if we’d been hit by an electric shock. We both stayed still, looking at each other, faces still pressed close, mouths a centimeter apart and breath mingled. I grabbed my phone with a hand that didn’t seem to belong to me: midnight exactly. We had spent the New Year’s crossing by fucking in our aunt’s bed.

—I’m going downstairs —he said, his voice rough.

He got up so fast he almost tripped over the sewing kit. He pulled up his pants, straightened his shirt as best he could to hide the stains, ran a hand through his hair, and left the room without looking at me. I stayed alone, sitting on my aunt’s bed, tits out and sticky with semen, heart pounding. I wiped myself with the first thing I could grab —a handkerchief from the sewing kit, absurd as that was—, pulled up my bra, my panties, my pants. I straightened my blouse, my cardigan. It took me about five minutes before I could look in the mirror. My mouth was red, swollen, and my eyes were shiny as if I’d been crying. My hair smelled like his cologne. My fingers smelled like myself.

I went downstairs slowly. I congratulated my cousins, my uncles, my parents, everyone. Not my brother. My brother had moved to the far end of the patio, talking to my uncle Andrés with a strange smile, as if he were listening to a joke he actually didn’t care about. When our eyes met, he lowered his head and kept talking like nothing had happened.

We spent the rest of the night ignoring each other. I kept drinking wine with my cousins, laughing at anything, pretending. He stayed quiet, almost still. And I mean, how could the poor guy not be uncomfortable, if a little while earlier he’d been fucking his sister in Aunt’s bed and coming on her tits in the middle of New Year’s Eve?

***

Years passed. Mateo got married, had two children. I built my life too. We see each other at birthdays, at Christmas, at the occasional family dinner, and we treat each other with the same affection as always. We never talk about that night. Not one word, not one hint, not even a long look. It’s as if those minutes in my aunt’s room belonged to another dimension, to another life.

But sometimes, when the end of the year is getting close and I see the fireworks and hear the countdown, his cock going into me comes back to mind, his mouth sucking my tits, his cum falling hot over my skin. And I think that if the family had shouted “Happy New Year” ten minutes later, my life would have been different. I would have climbed on top of him again. I would have let him put it in me again, without holding back, and I’d have let him come inside me. I’m sure of it. And he knows it.

That’s why I’m telling it now, without names or real places. To get it off my chest, even if only for a while. And because, deep down, there’s still a part of me that would like to know what would have happened if that countdown had started a little later. Or if next year, when we all get together again, someone goes into the wrong room.