The Morning After the Threesome with My Daughter and My Son-in-Law

I woke with a dry mouth and my heart still racing, as if the echo of the night before were still dancing inside me. The light crept timidly through the blinds, and for a moment I didn’t know whether it had all been a dream or a shared madness. I sat up in my panties, with a throbbing between my legs that reminded me of the vertigo of my daughter’s and my son-in-law’s young bodies, which had taken me as if there were no tomorrow.

I didn’t feel remorse, but a kind of pride, a sensation of freedom overflowing in me. I had dared to do something many fantasize about and almost no one ever carries out. I wouldn’t have done it if Carla hadn’t stayed with me those days while I looked after her son, or if Diego hadn’t opened my eyes to a world of desire without guilt.

I went slowly into their bedroom. Carla was sleeping with an oddly sweet expression. Anyone would say that angelic little face had offered her husband her mother’s ass before daring to lend him her own. I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Diego wasn’t there; he had an early appointment at the Department of Education to see his new office as director.

While I heated the milk, doubts assailed me. Was it normal to enjoy sex with your own daughter? And with her husband? I had been married to Andrés for nearly twenty-eight years, in a lukewarm relationship, with no great moments but no arguments either. In his own way, I suppose he loved me. The only thing I knew for certain was that I had never enjoyed myself with him the way I did now.

I carried in a tray with two coffees. I pulled open the blind and shook her body gently. Carla opened her eyes and looked at me with something I couldn’t name: curiosity, tenderness, desire.

—Are you hungry? —I asked, setting the tray on the bedside table.

—For breakfast, yes. For sex, I’m satisfied —we both laughed.

—I still can’t believe we dared to go that far —I murmured, my voice hoarse.

—What a night —she said, without blushing—. It was one of Diego’s fantasies that you helped me fulfill. How do you feel?

I closed my eyes. The memory crowded my mind.

—Good. Free. And at the same time I feel a vertigo in my stomach; I don’t know what direction my life is going to take.

Carla took my hand, as so many times I had taken hers.

—It wasn’t a selfish act, Mom. It was affection. I adore you, and Diego adores me… and you.

—With a bit of sex? —I added, laughing.

—With a lot of sex! But with an enormous emotional charge. I had never seen my husband with another woman, and it moved me to see you giving yourself to him.

We fell silent, with the distant murmur of traffic and the sun already warming the room. I let my fingers slide over her hand, as if I didn’t want to let it go. Carla lifted hers and brushed a lock of hair from my face. Her finger barely grazed my cheek, then slid down my neck. I leaned closer, making the movement easier for her. And then she kissed me. A timid kiss, a brushing of lips. I drew back a little, as if afraid to start something that might overwhelm me.

—I feel just as turned on as I did last night —she whispered.

I lowered my hands to her waist and slid them up inside the pajama T-shirt, to her small, firm breasts.

—I want to make love to you, Mom. Just the two of us, no men.

My moral dilemma had already been overcome. I had crossed that barrier the night before.

—Do it, daughter. I love you.

We pulled back the coverlet and undressed without shame, certain that the skin doesn’t understand age or family ties. Her hands sought my body and I let myself be explored with my eyes closed, submissive to her caresses. When I slid my hand inside her thighs, a moan escaped her lips.

—I don’t want to seem like a whore to you —I confessed.

—Just follow what your body asks of you —she replied—. This moment belongs to us.

Doubts dissolved in a shared sigh, in the slow brush of lips, in hands losing themselves in each other’s bodies. There was no longer kinship or rules: we were two naked women speaking the secret language of the skin. Without cocks or toys, only with our mouths and our hands, we both reached an orgasm that left us completely satisfied and proud of our own daring.

***

When Diego came back, he found us in the kitchen drinking coffee in that mature, complicit state that catharsis leaves behind. Carla was wearing one of his long T-shirts and I was barely in a summer nightgown.

—Good afternoon —she greeted him—. Have you eaten?

—I’ve had a little something —he said, visibly relaxed to see there would be no drama—. I wasn’t expecting such a heartwarming scene.

—Hello, mother-in-law —he gave me a light kiss on the lips.

We joked for a while. We told him we had both dreamed the same thing, that a sea god rose from the water and possessed us by force. Diego looked at us, not sure whether we were serious or whether it was the champagne hangover. Then he announced we were going to take a nap before picking up Mateo, and Carla dragged me into the bedroom.

We lay down, one on each side, with the remote in hand, as if we cared about television. The sheets still held our smell. In a few minutes the door opened and Diego appeared in the doorway.

—Are you watching TV or do you want to dream about your sea god again?

—If you want to watch, we’ll make room for you —I said, laughing.

He stripped down to his boxer briefs and lay down between us. The room filled with a tension that made the screen unnecessary. Carla and I already knew the way this would go. I slid my fingers over my daughter’s face and she caught one with her mouth, wantonly. My skin prickled.

—Looks like you two never get tired —Diego said, amused.

Carla’s fingers brushed his boxer briefs and slipped inside, wrenching a groan from him.

—We’re just exploring —she whispered—. Aren’t you hot with all those clothes on?

He got rid of the boxer briefs while looking at me as if asking permission. I took his cock and Carla’s hand joined mine, hand over hand over cock, like an oath. We brought our mouths together over him and kissed, a kiss meant only to ignite the fire rising between his legs. Diego remained motionless, overwhelmed by the spectacle.

—Does it turn you on to see two women kissing? —I asked.

—It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

—Come on, don’t be shy, son-in-law, you’ve already fucked us both.

We began moving as if in an improvised choreography. Hands discovering hidden places, lips sharing kisses among three. I moaned when Carla caressed me between the legs, and in my excitement I started sucking Diego’s cock without taking my eyes off her, as she masturbated with two fingers. He lowered his head to my daughter’s cunt while I massaged him, and then, no longer able to hold back, he climbed on top of me. I was so wet that his cock slid in like down a waterslide.

—Yes, fuck me —I begged, happy to receive a cock after so much skin.

Carla brought her cunt to my mouth so I could finish what Diego had started.

—I love seeing you fuck my mother —she gasped.

The climax came in waves. First it was Carla, biting her lips, squeezing her thighs, trembling all over. When she collapsed, a new thrust from Diego finished me off in the next wave. But his youth wasn’t ready to give up. He turned her onto all fours, with her hands on the headboard, above my head.

I, already experienced, knew that my daughter’s ass still didn’t dilate that quickly, so from below I licked her lips and slipped two fingers into her vagina to speed up the dilation, while with my other hand I stroked Diego. Stimulated, he crossed the barrier and entered her from behind, slowly at first, until pleasure exhausted his last reserves sooner than he would have liked.

—You’re brutal —he whispered, with the thread of voice left to him, collapsing between us.

The three of us stayed tangled together, wrapped in sweat, without speaking, until the alarm to pick up Mateo broke the spell.

—I’ll go —I said—. It’s his last day and I want to say goodbye.

***

At the camp pickup, the usual bustle of parents and children was in full swing. Mateo showed me a keychain, proud of it, a gift from his favorite counselor. And, as if waiting for his name to be called, Bruno appeared, with Iván behind him. The three of us looked at one another with a complicity only we understood. Iván was leaving for another camp on the coast; he said goodbye with two polite kisses and the sadness of what would not be repeated.

—You’re leaving too? —I asked Bruno.

—No, I start another shift on Monday. I’ve got a few days off. Would you like to see me?

What a temptation. I was going to be alone until Andrés came back.

—I don’t know, Bruno. My husband comes back in a few days and I need to get back to my life.

—I understand, Marisa. But I’d like to see you even if nothing happens. I really like you.

He seemed so sincere that I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. I had an afternoon snack with Mateo, listening to his adventures, while I wondered whether I’d be able to resist Bruno if the occasion arose. That night he called to ask me out for a drink, but I claimed I had a cold and stayed home. I couldn’t allow myself another slip right before Andrés arrived.

***

I picked him up at the station the next day. When I saw him coming down the platform, my body felt something like disappointment. He looked old, tired, with nothing about him that attracted me. He was coming back from a long route through the Pyrenees, happy as a pilgrim, while I had lived through another kind of journey.

At home, he didn’t even unpack his backpack. He made coffee and invited me to sit down.

—Marisa, I think you haven’t missed me —he began, in a tone unlike him—. I don’t blame you. I’m just as responsible.

—All marriages go through phases… —I replied, without the energy one would expect after so many years.

—Don’t hide the obvious. We like different things, we’re each going our own way. —He paused—. I’ve met a woman.

I felt no shiver. Much less than any of the ones my body had experienced in his absence. Suddenly it was clear to me: his confession, far from angering me, set me free. It lifted a weight from my conscience, because while I threw myself into my summer adventures, he was with someone else too. The sexual vacation I had taken could become permanent.

—Are you sure? —I asked, giving him a chance to deny it and, at the same time, hoping he would confirm it.

—Yes. And I’d like to handle this civilly.

—I’m not going to make a scene, Andrés. I’m going back to Carla’s place and in September we’ll talk about the paperwork without rushing.

I gathered my things into the same suitcase I’d brought. Thirty years settled in less than thirty minutes.

—Be happy —I said goodbye with a hug.

***

The cold shower of separation had briefly extinguished the fire Bruno had lit in me. But when I got to my daughter’s house and told her the news, she settled it for me.

—If it came from him, better for you, Mom. Forget Dad and live.

That same night I wrote to Bruno. When he arrived, he found me on the sofa, with a glass of wine and a daring pair of underwear Carla had given me. He took off his T-shirt slowly, let his pants fall, and stood there in his briefs, his bronzed body on display for me. I took his hand and guided it inside the fabric.

—Do you remember her? —he asked—. She’s missed you.

I freed his cock and almost marveled at it: it was even bigger than I remembered. I stroked it, licked it carefully, opening my mouth to the limit to take in that mythological being dwelling between his legs. It wasn’t just physical pleasure; it was empowerment.

—You’re very good —he muttered—, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.

He picked me up and carried me to bed. He stripped me of my bra and panties and stood still, looking at me, a naked Apollo. His tongue ran over my sex from top to bottom and one finger found my exact spot without hesitation.

—I want you to fuck me —I begged.

—It’s all a matter of dilation, like your little cunt —he replied, playing with three fingers until he made me explode in a first orgasm.

My body, after that summer, was no longer what it had been. When he finally aimed his cock at my entrance, I helped by moving my hips. He advanced centimeter by centimeter, without the discomfort of other times.

—Fuck, you’re more open down there! —he exclaimed, surprised.

I lifted my legs onto his shoulders and threw myself into riding him, crazy for him to go all the way in. I felt a slight discomfort when he went too deep and asked him to stop, but soon I was enjoying the slide again, until his liquid flooded me and a new orgasm dragged me under. I collapsed to one side, exhausted and satisfied to have answered such an animal.

—I love fucking you —he said, stroking me.

—And I love fucking you. I came three times.

***

The next day I had lunch with my son Hugo, who was twenty-nine and taught at a high school, like almost everyone in the family. I summed up the separation for him. I found him very handsome, tanned from so much cycling, with a firmer tone in his voice, that of a man with his own opinions and not the little boy glued to my skirt.

—Even though you surprised me yesterday, thinking about it calmly, I’m not surprised: you’re very different —he said—. Whatever you decide, Carla and I will be with you.

—I can’t deny that this summer I’ve started to feel different. Alive. Valued.

—Guys your age are worn out, like Dad. Get yourself a young one —he joked—. Mature women are in fashion.

I laughed. I told him I was thinking of signing up for hiking and dance groups to expand my circle, and we agreed he’d come see me at the beach house in Conil when he got back from Formentera. We said goodbye with the strongest hug I can remember from him.

—Don’t go under, Mom. We’re with you all the way.

***

That last night in the city, I thought I owed Bruno a special goodbye. Instead of waiting for him in lingerie, I opened the door and lay naked on the bed. When he found me, he undressed immediately.

—I love seeing you like this: free, daring, without a husband. You’re mine!

He held my hands against the mattress and I was completely trapped, pinned under him, and he wasn’t in any hurry. He traced my chest with his tongue, with the rough touch of his unshaven beard.

—Ride me —he ordered, authoritative, heightening my sense of being dominated.

I took him inside me and his erection made its way through my vagina as far as it could. With his hands on my hips, he set a rhythm like someone taming a wild animal, first soft, then deeper. Each thrust made my breasts bounce, and seeing myself reflected in his eyes, surrendered and dominated, I felt like a pure sexual animal. I galloped on top of him until I came hard.

Before I could recover, he put me on all fours and positioned himself behind me. He licked my sex slowly and pressed gently with the tips of his fingers farther back, around the anus, until the pleasure became so intense I had to bite my lip not to scream. Then I felt the pressure of his cock forcing its way in from behind. I let out a muffled cry.

—You can’t, Bruno… —I tried to resist, more from fear than anything else.

—I can’t let you leave without trying it —he replied.

My initial resistance defeated, I lifted my ass, offering it to him without shame, trapped in a chaos of gasps. The pain was turning into pleasure with each thrust. I felt tamed and at the same time freed, surrendered but wild. I started begging him for more, transformed into a woman I no longer recognized.

—Keep going, don’t stop —I begged.

His hand slipped under my belly and found the exact spot to make me scream. He pushed faster, to the limit, and with one last desperate thrust he emptied himself inside me while a brutal orgasm dragged me away. Then he remained still, running his fingertips over my skin, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

I let him stay the night. I wanted to learn how to wake up beside a stranger, because many nights still lay ahead of me. At dawn I didn’t miss Andrés, nor did I feel guilty. That woman who wondered who she was turned out to be the real one, without masks: still a teacher, a mother, a grandmother… finally free of the title of wife.

A new summer opened before me, my first summer single. Who knows what the future would bring.