The Secret Drawer in My Mother’s Dresser Changed Everything That Afternoon

My mother had not left her room in four months. My father’s death had emptied her out from the inside, and although my brother and I tried to pull her out of the hole, she always gave the same answer: that she was tired, later, tomorrow. Tomorrow never came.

That September afternoon I went up with a cup of chamomile tea and found her, once again, staring at the ceiling. She was forty-six and still a spectacular woman: fair skin, chestnut hair falling to her shoulders, a curvy body that age had made even fuller. Mourning had dulled her eyes, but not the rest.

“Mami, get up,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You haven’t opened the curtains in days.”

“Leave me alone, Lucía. Not today.”

“Mateo’s coming for dinner. I promised him he’d see you.”

My brother, two years younger than me, studied in the capital and only came down on weekends. He was the only one who could make Mum smile, and since Dad died he called her every night without fail.

“I don’t have decent clothes,” she murmured.

“I’ll take care of that.”

I got up and opened the top drawer of her dresser, the lingerie drawer. Mum had always been coquettish. Before Dad got sick, I used to see them looking at each other in the kitchen like they were newly dating. That drawer still smelled of her jasmine perfume, and beneath the pairs of stockings and lace sets I found something that stopped me cold.

It was a dildo. Skin-colored silicone, thick, with pronounced veins and a wide base. It had to be a good twenty centimeters long and thicker than my wrist. It wasn’t completely hidden, just covered by a silk scarf. I lifted it carefully, as if it were fragile, and felt the weight of the silicone in my palm. On the base there was still a matte shine, as if it had been cleaned recently, but not too recently.

“Mum,” I said without turning around.

The silence behind me grew dense. When I turned, I found her sitting up in bed, her cheeks flushed and her gaze lowered. She was biting her lower lip, that very gesture of hers that had remained intact despite the grief.

“Put it back where it was, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t imagine…” I began, and didn’t finish the sentence.

“Your father and I used it. He liked watching me shove it in while he wanked beside me.”

She said it without drama, as if she had been keeping that confession to herself for months and needed to let it out. I sat back down on the edge of the bed, the dildo in my lap. Mum was looking at me with a mixture of shyness and curiosity I had never seen in her.

“Do you still use it?”

“It’s been six months since I’ve put anything inside me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not the same without him watching me. And because I felt guilty for having a wet cunt while he was dying in the hospital.”

There it was: the crack I could slip through.

“Mami, Dad’s been dead four months. It’s okay to want to fuck.”

“No, sweetheart. There are desires you can’t have.”

She said it with an odd firmness, as if she were talking about something specific. I looked her in the eyes and for the first time in months she didn’t look away.

“What desires, Mum?”

“Things that go through my head at night. Images. I don’t want to talk about them.”

I put a hand on her knee over the duvet. It was warm.

“You can tell me. I’m your daughter. Who are you going to trust if not me?”

Mum swallowed. I saw the pulse rising in her neck.

“I dream about your brother,” she said at last, almost inaudibly.

I went still. Not out of surprise, but caution: any reaction from me would have sent her retreating into silence again.

“What do you dream?”

“That he walks through that door. That he gets into bed. That he spreads my legs and fucks me deep. That…” she closed her eyes. “That he goes back in through the place he was born and fills my cunt with cum. That’s why I feel dirty, Lucía. That’s why I don’t get up. Because I wake up with my knickers soaked and my clit swollen, and I hate myself.”

I squeezed the dildo in my hands. Something opened inside me, a slit of heat I hadn’t expected. For months I had been thinking about my brother too. About how he looked at my tits when he came back from a run, sweaty and braless under my T-shirt, my nipples showing through. About the long phone calls where we told each other things no siblings should ever tell each other, and the bulge that showed in his trousers when he hugged me goodbye.

“Mami, listen to me.”

“No.”

“Listen. What if I told you he dreams about you too?”

She opened her eyes slowly.

“That’s not true, sweetheart. Don’t tell me that.”

“He told me last month. We were in the kitchen together, he’d had a bit to drink and his tongue loosened up. He told me he couldn’t sleep thinking about you, that he’d wank thinking about you on all fours. That when you opened the door in your robe, he couldn’t look at you without imagining you under him with your legs open.”

My mother covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes filled with something that, for the first time in a long while, was not grief.

“Why are you telling me this, Lucía?”

“Because I love you. Because I’m sick of seeing you dead while still alive. And because some things only get better by doing them.”

I held out the dildo. She took it with a slightly trembling hand.

“I want you to get under the sheets and touch yourself. And I want to call Mateo.”

“Sweetheart, no.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just open the door. If you don’t like it, we stop. If you do, I’ll be here. Nobody leaves this room with guilt, all right?”

Mum didn’t answer, but she slid the dildo under the duvet. She closed her eyes. I watched her part her legs beneath the fabric, and her free hand went up to her chest, seeking her nipple over her nightdress. I heard the wet click as the tip of the dildo forced its way into her cunt, and she let out a low, long gasp that she had been holding back for months. She bit her lip. She began to move it slowly, in and out, and the duvet rose and fell with the rhythm of her wrist. Her breathing turned broken, then rougher. Her erect nipple began to press against the fabric of the nightdress.

“God, it’s been so long since I…” she murmured with her eyes closed. “It hurts how tight I am.”

“Keep going, Mami. Don’t stop.”

I pulled my mobile from my pocket and texted Mateo two words: “Come now.”

***

My brother showed up ten minutes later. I met him in the hallway and explained the situation in whispers while he looked at me, still not quite believing it. The bulge was already beginning to harden under his jeans.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Ask her yourself. If she says no, you leave. No drama.”

“And you?”

“I’ll stay if she wants me to stay.”

I pushed the door open. Mum had left the dildo on the nightstand, shining with moisture, and was sitting up against the headboard with her nightdress clinging to her chest. Her cheeks were red and her pupils dilated. There was a dark patch of saliva or sweat at her cleavage. She didn’t look like the same woman who had been melting away in that bed for months.

“Mateo,” she said, and her voice broke when she said his name.

“Mami.”

My brother walked over slowly, measuring each step. He sat in the same spot I had been a little while earlier. He took her hand.

“Do you want me to go?”

Mum shook her head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

She nodded.

“Say it, Mami. I need you to say it.”

“Stay. Fuck me, son. But promise me you won’t look at me differently after.”

“I’ll look at you the same as always. Only with this kept between the three of us.”

I had remained standing by the door. Mum lifted her gaze to me.

“Are you staying, Lucía?”

“Only if you ask me to.”

“I’m asking you. I don’t want to be alone in this.”

I crossed the room and sat in the armchair in the corner, the one my father used to read in. It was the perfect place not to get in the way and see everything. Mum smiled at me for the first time in months, a small, grateful smile, and then turned back to my brother.

Mateo leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Then on the cheek. Then at the corner of her mouth. It took Mum two seconds to part her lips and kiss him back, and when she did, she clutched the back of his neck with both hands, as if she had been drowning for four months and at last someone was pulling her to the surface. I saw her tongue searching for his, hungry, circling inside his mouth.

“Mami,” he murmured against her mouth, “I’ve wanted this for too long. I’ve been jerking off for months thinking about your cunt.”

“Me too, my love. Me too.”

He pulled down her nightdress slowly, tugging the straps off her shoulders. My mother’s tits fell heavy, full, white, with dark hard nipples like stones. Mateo looked at them for a moment without touching, as if they were an altar, and then lowered his head and kissed them one by one. He took her nipple fully into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling with his lips, and Mum let out a moan that was more relief than pleasure. He traced his tongue around the areola, bit carefully, sucked again. Her nipples hardened even more, shining with saliva.

“Suck my tits, son. Suck them hard, I’ve spent months dreaming about your mouth there.”

Mateo moved to the other breast without letting go of the first, kneading it with one hand while he sucked, and with the other he slid down my mother’s stomach, moving the duvet aside, hitching her nightdress up to her waist. When he reached her cunt, Mum spread her legs without hesitation. I watched my brother bury his fingers in the brown hair, pull them out slick with fluids, bring them to his mouth and suck them while looking her in the eyes.

“You’re soaking, Mami.”

“I’ve been like this for months, son. I’ve been like this for you for months.”

He slid down the bed and pulled her knees wide open. I had a full view from the armchair: my mother’s cunt open, the lips swollen and pink, the clit standing out hard among the hair, everything shining under the lamp’s light. Mateo buried his face there without preamble. I watched his tongue run from top to bottom, saw him stop to suck her clit with his lips, saw him slip two fingers inside and curl them. Mum clutched the headboard with both hands and arched her back all the way.

“Oh God, my boy! How you lick my cunt, son, how you lick it!”

I crossed my legs in the armchair. I wasn’t there to touch myself. I was there to make sure my mother was safe, and the word “safe” already meant something else. But my thighs tightened of their own accord, and I felt my knickers getting wet watching my brother devour my mother as if he had been fasting for years.

Mum came like that, against his tongue, with a long shudder that shook her legs and her tits at the same time. She dug her heels into Mateo’s back. When he came up, his chin and lips were shining with her wetness, and he wiped them with the back of his hand without stopping smiling.

“Come here,” she said, voice broken. “Take it out. I want to see it.”

My brother knelt on the bed and yanked off his jeans and boxers. His hard cock sprang free, long, with a purple tip and a thick drop peeking out. Mum sat up and took it in both hands, as if weighing it, then leaned in and took it all into her mouth. I watched her swallow it to the base, choking a little, strings of saliva hanging when she pulled off. She sucked him slowly, looking up at him from below, eyes teary and happy. She ran her tongue over his balls, took him all the way in again, pulled him out with a smack.

“Mami, like that I’m not going to last…”

“Fuck me now, my love. Fuck me before I change my mind.”

“You’re not going to change your mind.”

“Look at me, Mami,” Mateo asked as he climbed on top of her. “I want you to look at me the whole time.”

“I’m looking at you, son.”

He settled between her legs, ran the tip of his cock across her cunt lips, rubbing it there, searching for the entrance. When he lined up, Mum lifted her hips to help him. He entered her very slowly, centimeter by centimeter, and I watched my mother’s cunt stretch to receive him, the pink flesh opening around my brother’s swollen cock. Her mouth opened soundlessly, she clutched his shoulders, closed her eyes for a second and opened them again right away because he had asked her to. Mateo stayed still inside her for a long moment, buried to the balls. He stroked her face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m home,” she said, and tears slipped out, but this time the tears were something else. “You’re thicker than your father, son.”

He started moving. Slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in to the hilt, gauging my mother, attentive to every sound she made. Mum wrapped her legs around his waist and started meeting him on every thrust, pushing her cunt against his cock, trying to make it go deeper. Her tits bounced with the rhythm, heavy, her nipples drawing circles. The room filled with the wet sound of bodies, the slapping of her wet cunt and the ragged breathing of both of them.

“Harder, my love,” she begged after a while. “Break me, son, I’ve been shut up for months.”

Mateo obeyed. He rose up on his knees, grabbed her by the hips and started fucking her hard, each thrust sounding dry against my mother’s ass. The mattress creaked. The headboard hit the wall. Mum let out a rough, guttural cry, the kind of sound she had been keeping under her pillow for months. I bit my lip from the armchair, and without realizing it my hand had slipped between my thighs over my skirt.

“Like that, like that, like that,” she panted. “Put it all in, my boy. Fuck me like you’ve been wanting to for months.”

Mateo turned her on her side without pulling out, lifted one leg onto his shoulder and sank into her again at that angle. Mum screamed louder. I watched her cunt stretched around my brother’s cock, glossy, dripping, with white froth at the base of his shaft each time he pulled out. Then he turned her face down again, lifted her hips and took her from behind. Mum buried her face in the pillow and stuck her ass out, offering it, and he grabbed her cheeks with both hands, spreading them while he drove into her. Her tits flattened against the mattress, moving back and forth with each slam of his hips.

“Oh God, son, there, there, don’t stop!”

He caught her hair with one hand, yanking her head back, and kept hammering into her. My mother came again with her mouth open, shrieking into the pillow, squeezing her cunt around my brother’s cock until he had to grit his teeth not to blow right there.

He turned her onto her back again. He opened her legs wide and lined up once more, staring into her eyes.

“Come inside me,” Mum said suddenly, her eyes glazed. “I want to feel you there. I want to feel you filling me.”

“Mami, no… you can’t…”

“I was sterilized years ago, sweetheart. Come. Stay inside. Fill my cunt with your cum, son, that’s what I’ve been asking God for months.”

My brother clenched his teeth and sped up. Each thrust sounded deeper, more animal. I watched Mum’s whole body tense, watched her arch her back, watched her go mute in the climax with her mouth open and no sound coming out, trembling all over. Mateo sank all the way in, stayed there nailed in place, and let out a groan that sounded almost like a sob as he came inside her. I saw his ass tense with each spurt, saw Mum wrap her legs around him so he wouldn’t slip out, saw a little semen start to trickle down her thighs when he finally pulled his cock out, still dripping, red and shining.

He collapsed onto her. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, not separating, mouths pressed together and breathing as one. I got up silently to leave, with my knickers soaked and my legs trembling, but Mum stretched out a hand toward me.

“Stay, sweetheart. Don’t go yet.”

I sat on the edge of the bed beside them. Mum took my hand with one of hers and with the other stroked my brother’s hair. She smelled of sweat and sex and something new, something alive. I could see his semen escaping from her cunt, forming a little stain on the white sheet.

“I’m going to make you a coffee,” I said.

“Later,” she answered. “Stay now. Stay with us.”

And for the first time in four months, my mother closed her eyes smiling.