The Night My Sister Came Down to the Kitchen Barefoot

The summer Sofia turned nineteen was also the summer I stopped seeing her only as my sister.

I was twenty-two. We lived with our parents in a neighborhood house with a patio and a small pool my old man had put together years earlier. Sofia had always been Sofia: my little sister, the girl in the next room, the one who stole fries off my plate and changed the channels on me. But that summer there was something different in the way she moved around the house, in the clothes she chose, in the way she walked into a room and made you look up without meaning to. It was hard to describe and even harder to ignore.

I tried to ignore it for weeks. I didn’t do so great.

The first concrete moment was on a Friday night. I’d had a fight with Camila, my girlfriend at the time, because I tried to take advantage of being alone in the car with her and she got mad and got out before we reached her house. I got back to the neighborhood in a foul mood, with my dick half-hard still inside my pants and my head somewhere else. When I opened the hallway door I came face to face with Sofia.

She was wearing a very tight white T-shirt, no bra underneath, which let you make out the shape of her tits and the hard tips of her nipples. Her short skirt reached halfway down her thigh. She was barefoot, with her hair loose. She looked at me and smiled.

—Well? What happened?

—Fight with Camila —I said.

—Bad?

—I don’t know yet.

She turned to go to the kitchen and I stood there in the hallway watching her go. She had that way of walking where her hips moved more than seemed necessary, and the skirt clung to her ass with every step. Maybe she didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe she did.

We sat down to talk in the kitchen. She told me our parents had gone to the movies an hour earlier and probably wouldn’t be back before midnight. We drank water, talked about unimportant things, and I tried not to think about what I was thinking. I didn’t fully manage it.

That was when the power went out.

The neighborhood cut it off often that summer, especially on Fridays. One moment everything was black, and then that strange silence without fridges or fans that makes darkness feel denser.

—The candles are in the lower drawer —Sofia said.

She got up to look for them. I heard her moving in the gloom and stood up too, telling myself I was going to help. I found her with her back to me, bent over in front of the lower cabinet drawer, her skirt riding up and leaving the edge of her panties visible, and I stood behind her without thinking too hard about what I was doing. I put my hands on her hips.

—Hey —she said softly.

It wasn’t a question. It didn’t sound exactly like rejection, either. It was something in between that I decided to take as the second.

I slid my hands over her waist on top of the T-shirt, slowly moved up to squeeze her tits over the thin cotton. Her nipples went hard under my fingers and she let out a short sigh. She straightened up slowly without turning around and pressed her ass back against my zipper, where my hard cock was already straining against my jeans. I brought my body closer to hers and put my mouth on her neck, sucking the skin just below her ear. Sofia exhaled through her nose with a slowness that wasn’t disgust and pushed her hips back, rubbing against my bulge. I started moving one hand toward the waistband of her skirt, slid my fingers under the elastic of her panties and brushed her cunt with my fingertips. She was wet. Very wet.

And then the doorbell rang.

My parents had come back earlier than expected. Sofia and I separated at the same time, almost by reflex. She went to open the door for them and I stayed in the dark kitchen trying to steady my breathing and tuck my dick back into my pants.

I didn’t sleep well that night. I jerked off three times thinking about the taste of her neck and how wet she’d felt in two seconds.

***

The next two weeks were a strange balance. Sofia and I didn’t talk about what had happened in the kitchen, but something between us had changed temperature. She looked at me differently during breakfast. She took longer than necessary coming out of the bathroom when I was in the hallway. She came downstairs in her sleep shorts when before she always changed first.

I looked at her and tried not to look too much. I didn’t always manage that, either.

The turning point came on a Saturday at noon.

Our parents announced they were going to the supermarket and would take a couple of hours. Sofia was in the patio, lying face down on a lounge chair, wearing a red one-piece swimsuit that defined every curve and split her ass into two perfect halves. Her hair was wet and her eyes were closed. Her legs were slightly apart.

I changed and went out to the patio. I sat in the other lounge chair without saying anything, watching a drop run down the small of her back and disappear beneath the Lycra.

—Will you put sunscreen on my back? —she said without opening her eyes.

Just like that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I knelt beside her. I opened the bottle and started with her shoulders: slowly, running my thumbs over each vertebra, down her shoulder blades to the curve of her waist. Sofia said nothing. She breathed slowly, with her arms crossed under her head. When I got to the edge of her swimsuit I felt her tense slightly and then relax. I took advantage of it to slide a finger down over the swell of her ass, following the red fabric where it sank between her cheeks. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move my hand away, either.

—Want to get in? —I suggested, my voice rough.

—Sure.

She jumped into the water before I did. We started swimming from one end to the other, racing, tripping each other under the surface like when we were kids. Then she dove under and in a second she yanked my shorts down. When I lifted my head out of the water, she had them in her hand, shaking them above the surface with a laugh. I was naked from the waist down and my cock was already half-hard from the sunscreen.

—Give them back —I said.

—Not a chance.

I swam toward her. She backed toward the pool edge still laughing, and I caught up to her and took her by the arms. The laughter died away. We looked at each other up close, with no water between us, and neither of us did anything to pull away.

I kissed her.

It took her a second to kiss me back, and then she did it without hesitation, opening her mouth and finding my tongue with hers. I cupped her face with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, pressing her body against mine under the water. I slid the straps of her swimsuit down to her waist, leaving her tits bare. They were firm, with dark nipples hardened by the cold water. I took one in my mouth and sucked it while my other hand pinched the other nipple. Sofia let her head fall back and gave a short moan. She slid her hand under the water, found my cock, and gripped it firmly. She took me in her fingers and started moving with calm, with a confidence I hadn’t expected from her, sliding her hand up and down the full length, pressing the head with her thumb every time she reached the top.

I grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her down. Sofia didn’t hesitate. She knelt, putting her knees on the bottom of the pool, lifted her head just enough for her mouth to line up with my cock, and took it between her lips. She did it slowly at first, carefully, pulling it out to run her tongue over the whole tip and then taking it back in until it hit the back of her throat, looking up at me now and then from below. I had to lean my back against the pool edge to keep my balance. Then she found a rhythm and started sucking me with enthusiasm, making noise, helping herself with her hand at the base. I took her wet hair in both hands and guided her myself, pushing her head down on my cock until she took the whole thing. She let me, swallowing, breathing through her nose each time she came up for air.

When I lifted her by the arms, she already knew what was coming. I turned her to face the wall. I pulled her swimsuit to one side, exposing her cunt, and fucked her slowly, feeling how her body yielded and how the hot walls squeezed my whole cock at once. Sofia braced her forearms on the edge and lowered her head. I grabbed her hips with both hands and started moving, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in to the hilt. Her moans were soft, mixed with the sound of water moving around both of us, with the slap of my balls against her ass every time I buried myself inside her fully.

We stayed like that for a good while. I picked up the pace and she matched it, pushing her ass back to take me, biting her forearm so she wouldn’t moan too loudly. I slid one hand forward and found her clit under the water. I started rubbing it with my fingers while I fucked her and Sofia tensed all over, squeezing my cock inside her like a fist. Everything was exactly what I’d imagined for weeks, but sometime that afternoon I started wanting more. I shifted the angle slightly, pulled out, and lined up a little higher, against the other hole.

Sofia tensed all at once. She shoved me back hard.

—Don’t even think about it —she said.

She got out of the pool. She adjusted her swimsuit and went into the house without looking at me.

She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.

***

That night I tossed and turned in bed for hours. I replayed the afternoon in the pool, the feel of her body against mine, the moment everything stopped. I thought about what I wanted and about how I probably wasn’t going to get it.

After one in the morning, I went downstairs to get some water.

The kitchen was dim. Only the hallway light seeped through the half-open door, drawing a yellow rectangle across the tiles. I was filling the glass when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Sofia appeared in the doorway.

She was wearing tight black Lycra shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt with no bra underneath. Her bare feet on the cold tiles. Her hair loose, a little messy from being in bed. She stared at me for a few seconds without saying anything.

—Why did you do that in the pool? —she said.

—Because I wanted to.

—That’s filthy.

—Yeah.

There was a long silence. Sofia leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. I waited without moving.

—I’ve been thinking —she said at last.

She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she turned around, walked to the kitchen table and bent over it, resting her forearms on the surface. She pulled her shorts down just a little from behind, just enough to show the swell of her ass, and looked at me over her shoulder.

I couldn’t believe I was seeing what I was seeing.

—But slowly —she said—. And if I tell you to stop, you stop.

I moved closer without hurrying. I pulled her shorts down to her knees and then her underwear. She had a white, round ass, with two small dimples in the lower part of her back. In a low voice I asked her to spread her legs a little and grip the edge of the table properly. Sofia obeyed without saying anything.

I knelt behind her. I parted her cheeks with my hands and ran my tongue over her hole, slowly, from bottom to top, lingering on the tight ring of muscle. Sofia shuddered and let out a muffled sound. I kept at it for a few minutes, sucking and salivating well, until I felt her start to loosen against my mouth. I brought two fingers to my mouth, wet them with spit, and started with my fingers, taking my time, one finger first, moving it in circles until she wasn’t so tight anymore, and then two, very slowly, until I felt her body slacken and her breathing change. Sofia rested her forehead on her forearm and let out a low sound that wasn’t pain. I kept going like that, not rushing anything, until she shifted her hips slightly toward me, pushing her ass against my fingers.

I stood up and spit into my hand to lube my cock well. I pressed it against the tight hole and pushed carefully. When I started to enter her, I did it very slowly, stopping every time I felt tension, waiting for her to relax before continuing. The tip went in first, and she let out a low whimper between her teeth. I held still. Then I went on, a centimeter at a time, giving her time. On the fourth try I made it all the way in, with my balls pressed against her wet cunt.

Sofia exhaled hard and tightened her fingers around the edge of the table.

—Okay? —I whispered.

—Keep going.

I started moving carefully, paying attention to every signal from her body. At first, short motions, barely pulling out before pushing back in, letting her get used to the feeling. Her moans were different from the pool’s: deeper, more involuntary, torn out from some place she didn’t fully control. I slid one hand under her and found her cunt with my fingers. She was soaked. I started rubbing her there while I fucked her ass and Sofia clenched all around my cock, moaning louder. Every now and then she remembered my parents were sleeping upstairs and I’d slow down, and she’d protest through clenched teeth, telling me not to stop, to keep giving it to her like that, that she loved it.

I didn’t stop.

I leaned over her back to deepen the angle and started fucking her harder, deeper, feeling how the hole opened around my cock with each thrust. Sofia buried her face in her arms and started moaning louder, so I covered her mouth with my free hand. With the other I grabbed her hair and tipped her head slightly back. She pulled my hand from her mouth almost immediately and kept moaning softly, trying to control herself, with her knuckles white around the table edge. I slipped two fingers into her cunt while I kept fucking her ass and she came like that, her mouth open against her forearm, her whole body trembling in waves, the muscles squeezing me so hard I could barely move inside her.

When I finished, I had my forehead against the back of her neck and my breath coming in ragged bursts, emptying myself in hard spurts deep inside her. I stayed still for a moment, still inside her, feeling how my load slowly leaked out around the edges, listening to the silence of the kitchen.

Sofia took a minute to straighten up. She pulled her clothes back on without haste, feeling the semen run down the inside of her thigh, poured herself water from the same pitcher I’d left on the counter, and took a long sip.

—Tomorrow don’t act like nothing happened —she said, and went upstairs.

I didn’t.

***

From that night on, things between Sofia and me changed again, but in a different way. It was quieter, more calculated. We learned to read when the house was truly empty, how much time we had, what excuse to use if someone got back earlier than expected. We did it in the upstairs bathroom, with her kneeling in front of the toilet while I fucked her from behind, watching ourselves in the mirror; in the attic, on an old blanket, with her on top moving slowly so the floor wouldn’t creak; once in our parents’ bedroom during a weekend they went to visit some relatives, in the double bed, not rushing, finishing in her mouth and watching her swallow without complaint.

Every time it was Sofia who gave the signal. We never talked about what it was or where it was going.

We didn’t need to.