The Birthday Gift My Father-in-Law Gave Me
At the company where I work, they give us the day off when it’s our birthday. Last year, on the day I turned thirty-nine, Martín was away on a work trip. He wasn’t due back until the afternoon, and we had made plans to go out to dinner with the kids to celebrate.
I got up early, got the children ready, and sent them off to school. When I closed the door behind them, the apartment fell silent in a way that felt different, charged. I had the whole morning to myself. And, taking advantage of the fact that Martín wasn’t there, I had arranged to “have lunch” with someone who wasn’t him.
But the morning dragged on. I poured myself a coffee, let it go cold, turned on the radio and switched it off two minutes later. I had a restlessness in my body that the coffee couldn’t soothe, an expectancy that made my skin prickle for no clear reason. I paced from the kitchen to the living room as if I were waiting for something, even though my date wasn’t until noon.
I took a long shower, longer than necessary, letting the hot water run down my back while I thought about what I was going to wear. I slid the soap between my legs and realized my cunt was already swollen, soaked through, throbbing on its own. I slipped two fingers inside just to test myself, to confirm how much desire I was carrying that morning, and pulled them out shining with my own wetness. I smiled. I was going to arrive at the date already melted. Then I tried on three different outfits and rejected them all. I felt strange, like a girl before a first encounter, and at thirty-nine that made me laugh and feel a little dizzy at the same time. In the end I stayed in my robe, barefoot, with my hair still damp and the bed rumpled behind me.
I sat down at the vanity and put on just enough makeup to feel put together without showing the effort. While I was applying eyeliner I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror and asked the question I’d been avoiding all week: Do I really want to do this? I didn’t answer myself. I put away the eyeliner and lowered the blinds halfway, letting in a warm light that gilded the whole room.
At nine-thirty there was a knock at the door.
I opened it without thinking, sure it was the building super or a package. Standing in front of me was my father-in-law.
He didn’t say anything at first. He hugged me, came in, and the moment the door closed behind us we were kissing. His tongue found mine with that usual hunger, sliding into my mouth and playing with mine while his hands moved down my back to squeeze my ass beneath the robe, with that firmness I knew by heart. He dug his fingers into my flesh, spread me just a little, and I felt myself leaking again. He knew I’d be alone all morning, but he hadn’t told me he was coming. It was a surprise, and one of the good ones: my first birthday present was going to be him.
For it to be him walking through that door and not the other one, I thought, maybe that was what I’d been waiting for all morning.
He put a wrapped box in my hands.
“Go to the bedroom, put it on, and come back,” he said, with a sideways smile.
He settled onto the sofa as if he were in his own house. Dutifully, I went to the bedroom and opened the package. Inside was a turquoise babydoll, of the finest silk, with lace that turned sheer at the slightest movement. It was beautiful. It was expensive, one of those things you don’t buy without thinking of someone. I felt flattered in a way that made me a little embarrassed.
I stripped quickly and put it on. When I looked at myself in the closet mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. The turquoise against my skin, the fabric falling exactly where it should, the thong of the set just barely outlining the slit of my cunt. My nipples showed hard through the lace, two dark points pushing against the silk. It fit me perfectly, as if made to measure. I felt beautiful. I felt like an expensive, well-posed whore, and I liked it. I felt desired before anyone had even touched me.
I walked barefoot into the living room. My father-in-law looked up and stayed silent for a second too long.
“You look incredible,” he said at last, his voice rougher than he would have wanted.
He stood and we kissed again, this time without haste, savoring it. His hand slipped under the babydoll and grabbed a whole breast, squeezing it, pinching my nipple between two fingers until I moaned into his mouth. I was overflowing with a strange happiness, guilty and complete at the same time. I had the man who made me feel best in my house, and I knew we were going to fuck him in my own bed, the bed I shared with his son. That detail always gave me a kind of dirty thrill I never dared confess out loud.
He pulled away, went to Martín’s bar cabinet, and poured himself a whisky on the rocks. He returned to the sofa, swirled the glass so the cubes clinked, and asked me to put on some music.
My father-in-law is younger than anyone would imagine. Barely fifty-two, his hair still dark, his hands large and steady. I put on what he likes: eighties rock, in English, those guitars he hummed along to without realizing it. I sat beside him and we stayed like that for a while, kissing slowly, my fingers at his nape, his hands roaming my thighs beneath the silk, inching higher and higher until they brushed my soaked thong. When he reached my cunt and felt the puddle I had there, he let out a soft laugh against my mouth.
“Look at you. You’re already dripping and I haven’t even really touched you yet.”
He slid the thong to one side and pushed his middle finger into me in one thrust. I arched against the sofa, a moan slipping out before I could stop it. He moved his finger slowly, all the way in, pulling it out shining and pushing back in. Then he added two. He was fucking me with his hand without stopping kissing me, and with his thumb he circled my clit, little loops that sent heat surging up through my belly.
“Stand up,” he whispered. “I want to see how it looks on you.”
I got to my feet in front of him. I don’t know where it came from, but I danced a little for him, to the beat of the music, turning so he could see my back, the fabric lifting slightly with every move. I pulled the babydoll up to my waist and showed him my ass, the thong sunk between my cheeks, and I patted it for him myself. He watched me with a concentration that turned me on more than any caress, his bulge pressing against his trousers. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I held out my hand. He took it, set the sweating glass on the table, and let me lead him to the bedroom.
***
I sat on the edge of the bed. I unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants and boxer shorts in one motion. He stood exposed in front of me, his cock hard and thick, veined, the head already shining wet with pre-cum. That part of him always made me a little insane. I knelt on the rug and took it in my hand, jacked him slowly up and down to watch it get even harder, and ran the tip across my lips before taking him into my mouth.
I started sucking him slowly, sucking just the head at first, circling the glans with my tongue, tasting the salty flavor he left on me. Then I took him down inch by inch until I felt him hit the back of my throat. I choked and tears sprang to my eyes, but I didn’t let him go. I looked up to meet his eyes while I sucked him off. I liked seeing his face, seeing how he clenched his jaw and half-closed his eyelids with the pleasure I was giving him. I lowered my mouth to his balls and sucked them one by one, pampered them with my tongue while I kept jerking him with my hand. A strand of saliva hung from my chin when I came back to the tip.
“Stop,” he said after a while, tugging gently on my hair. “Get up. If you keep going, you’re going to make me come in your mouth, and not yet.”
I obeyed, as always. With a calm that made me nervous, he arranged me on all fours at the edge of the bed. I was still wearing the babydoll and the silk falling over my back made me feel even more exposed, more his. He pulled my thong to one side and, instead of going straight where I expected, he started moistening me with saliva farther back, on my ass, in a place he only reached after a good while. It surprised me. But I understood right away that that was the gift, a different way of celebrating me.
He knelt behind me and licked me without hurry. Feeling his tongue exploring there, pressing at the hole, opening me little by little, dirtying me with saliva, set me on fire. He buried his mouth between my cheeks, sucked my ass like it was a cunt, pushed his tongue inside and drew it out, then slid it in again, while with two fingers he opened my other hole and worked it all the way through. I could feel him drooling over me, the saliva running down to my clit. I was already burning, trembling against the sheets, biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t scream. He shoved his thumb into my ass while he kept working my cunt with two fingers, and with that one hand alone he nearly made me come. By the time he rose and started pressing his cock against my cunt, I was ready, surrendered, with not a single defense left standing.
He entered slowly and still I felt him filling me completely, opening me from the inside to make room for himself. There was a burn at first, then a huge pleasure that shot up my back. In just a few thrusts he had all of him inside. I felt his thighs pressed against my ass, his balls slapping my clit with every stroke, his whole body against mine, and for a moment I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
He stayed still. A minute, maybe more. I moaned softly, undone, waiting, feeling him pulse inside me. Then I started moving on my own, forward and back, rubbing my ass against his belly, riding him myself, setting the pace I wanted. He let me for a while, watching me swallow him whole every time, watching his shiny cock slide out of my cunt and how I sucked it back in to the base. Then he grabbed my waist with both hands and, without warning, started pounding me with a violence that took my breath away. Sharp slap, ass against pelvis, again and again, each thrust knocking the air out of me.
I buried my face in the sheets that smelled like Martín, and for a second that mix — my husband’s scent in the bed, his father’s cock blasting me open from the inside — gave me a shiver I don’t know whether it was guilt or pleasure. Then I stopped thinking. There was only the heat, the wet sound of our bodies colliding, the slapping of my drenched cunt swallowing his cock to the balls, and the babydoll silk sliding down my back with every thrust. He slid one hand underneath and pinched my nipples through the lace, squeezing hard, and I screamed into the mattress.
I pushed myself up a little, braced on my hands, and he took the opportunity to yank my hair and arch me against his chest. I felt his breath on my nape, his beard scraping my shoulder, his teeth biting me right where the neck turns into the collarbone. His free hand went down to my cunt and started rubbing my clit in time with every thrust, two fingers circling, pressing. I dug my nails into his forearms and begged him not to stop, to fuck me to the hilt, to break me, even though neither of us was anywhere close to wanting to stop.
He whispered things in my ear as he moved. That I was his girl, his treasure, his sweetheart. And in the same breath, in the same voice, that I was his whore, his daughter-in-law, his slut, the richest pussy he’d ever fucked in his life. Tenderness and filth mixed together, all at once, while he made me burn. I don’t know what turned me on more, what he did or what he said.
“You’re mine,” he repeated. “My daughter-in-law, mine. This cunt is mine. Say it.”
“Yours,” I panted. “It’s all yours, keep going, don’t stop, give me more.”
He pulled out of me all at once, shining to the base, and made me turn around. He laid me on my back, opened my legs against his chest, and came back in with one hard thrust all the way to the hilt. From there he looked at me as he fucked me, watching my face come apart with every blow. He sucked my nipples through the silk, left two dark stains of saliva on the babydoll, and kept hammering into me with that rhythm he knew was going to make me come. I squeezed my own breasts, licked my lips, begged him for more with my eyes.
“Come here, daddy,” I told him, and it was the first time I’d ever said it to him. “Come inside, I want to feel you filling me.”
I answered yes to everything, without thinking, because at that moment it was true.
***
For the first time, we came together. I felt him shudder at the same time I was coming apart beneath him, felt his cock swell inside me and begin to spill shot after shot, hot, deep inside, while my cunt clenched in spasms around him and squeezed out the very last drop. Both of us collapsing onto the bed, his weight crushing me into the mattress, his cock still buried in me releasing its final tremors, my breath coming in broken gasps against the pillow. We stayed like that for a long while, without separating, feeling his hot seed start to run down my thighs and stain Martín’s sheets, listening to the music still playing in the living room as if nothing had happened.
And then, with his mouth still pressed to my nape, he said it.
“I love you.”
It was the first time. The first and the only time, to this day. He never said it again and I never asked him to. There was no need. It was enough for me to have heard it once, there, in my bed, on my birthday morning, with his semen still inside me.
After that he dressed in silence, finished the watered-down whisky in one gulp, and kissed my forehead before leaving, as if it were a secret the two of us knew how to keep. The babydoll box stayed open on the dresser. My noon date texted to cancel and I didn’t even answer. I didn’t need anyone else. I stayed sprawled on the bed, with the turquoise babydoll wrinkled at my waist and my cunt dripping my father-in-law’s cum onto my husband’s sheets, and fell into a happy nap.
That afternoon, when Martín came back from the trip and we went out to dinner with the kids, his father was sitting at the table, on the other side, toasting me with a glass of wine and a serene smile. Nobody suspected a thing. Under the tablecloth, while everyone was singing, his foot brushed mine once. Just for a second. It was my second gift of the day, and the only one I was able to keep secret forever.