The Village Where an Earthquake Broke Every Taboo

This story was told to me in the late nineties by two brothers who were then in their thirties. They lived it firsthand: an earthquake devastated their village, hidden on the slope of a valley in the Bolivian Andes, and the few who remained alive had to bury their dead without help and rebuild the houses stone by stone. No one came from the government. No one knew about the village for months.

They told it to me with wet eyes. Fathers, brothers, grandparents: they lost almost everyone that night. They learned to survive on their own, and that changed something in them that I only understood days later.

My name is Andrés. I’m thirty-two, a biologist, and I work for an American multinational that sources from a native plant grown in that village. A strange plant, with an alkaloid similar to ephedrine and another compound that is little known. It’s used for pain, but it also lowers inhibitions. That’s why I was sent: they needed to renew the exclusive contract for another five years.

I had been there three days when Rodrigo and Mateo, the brothers who negotiated on behalf of the community, invited me to dinner at their house. I accepted. Something strange hovered in the air in that place and I wanted to understand it. The village was small, no more than a hundred people, and most of them were women. I was staying in a clean, humble inn, and from the first morning I felt they were watching me in a way unlike any other place I had traveled to.

I arrived at the house a little after eight. The first thing that surprised me was the number of children running around the courtyard. Fifteen, maybe more. None of them looked older than twelve.

—Come in, friend —said Rodrigo, the older brother, leading me to the porch—. Make yourself at home. What would you like to drink?

I asked for a beer. From the chair I saw Mateo come out with a girl wrapped around his waist. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. She wore a pale wraparound skirt tied around her body, barefoot, easy smile. Her black eyes held my gaze longer than any woman had in years.

—This beauty is my daughter Camila —said Rodrigo—. She has given Mateo and me three children.

I swallowed the beer not knowing if I had heard right. Rodrigo laughed when he saw my face and put a hand on my shoulder.

—You’re going to need another beer —he said—. Tonight we’ll tell you what happened after the earthquake. But we want something in return: keep the secret. Here we’re happy and we don’t want anyone coming to change our lives.

***

—The first thing you need to know —Mateo continued, pouring himself a drink— is that under the wraparound skirts they wear nothing. None of them. The fifteen men in the village satisfy our urges when they show up, wherever they show up: in the house, in the field, in the barn. And before you think anything outrageous, I assure you they want it just as much as we do. The plant we grow has a lot to do with it.

I listened with my eyes fixed on Camila, who had sat down on Mateo’s lap and was nibbling his earlobe. She had been like that throughout the whole conversation, smiling, slowly opening and closing her knees with calculated languor. Her mouth was painted a muted red, and when she caught me staring she gave a soft laugh. From where I was sitting I could see a strip of bare thigh up almost to her hip, and the certainty that she truly was wearing nothing underneath tightened my pants even more.

—You’ll have noticed you’ve had a bit of discomfort in your pants for a couple of hours —said Rodrigo, baring his teeth—. It’s the brew they’ve been serving you at the inn since you arrived. The same plant, mixed the way we know how to mix it. Don’t be scared. Nobody here is forced into anything. But tonight, if you want, one of the girls can show you the house before dinner.

My face burned. Camila rose from her uncle’s lap and held out her hand to me without waiting for an answer. When she stood, her wraparound skirt parted by an inch and I saw her smooth pubis, not a single hair, shining faintly with the dampness of already being wet from hearing them talk.

—Dad —she said without looking at him—, leave Andrés with me for a while. I’ll show him the house while you two prepare the drink.

We went upstairs together. The wooden stairs creaked under every step. Before we reached the landing, she turned and kissed me. It was a slow kiss, mouth half open, unhurried, pushing her tongue deep into mine. She took my hand and brought it between her legs beneath the wraparound skirt. She was soaked. She slid two of my fingers inside her cunt without breaking the kiss and sighed against my mouth. Then she kept walking as if nothing had happened, sucking my fingers that I had withdrawn from her.

—I’m going to eat you up whole —she whispered when she opened the bedroom door—. Unless you’d rather have someone younger. Here you can always ask.

—No, for God’s sake —I said—. You’re beautiful.

—How old do you think I am? —she asked, untying the wraparound skirt in a single motion.

—I don’t know.

—Eighteen. And I already have three.

She stood naked in the center of the room, the oil lamp’s light outlining her body. Small, firm breasts, with nipples already hard and dark. Copper-colored skin. A shaved pubis and a cunt spread between her thighs like a split fruit, shining with juice. I lunged at her without thinking, but she stopped me with a hand on my chest.

—Me first —she said.

She undressed me slowly, kissing my shoulders, biting my hip. When she finally pulled down my briefs, my cock sprang hard against my stomach and she gave a guttural sound of approval, as if she had found a gift. She knelt between my legs, took me in both hands, and ran her tongue from my balls to the tip, slowly, looking up at me. She circled the head twice with the tip of her tongue and only then took me all the way into her mouth.

She knew exactly when to squeeze and when to let go, when to rise to kiss my chin and when to go down and work me with her tongue. She sucked me with her throat wide open, burying her face against my groin until tears filled her eyes, then came up for air, spitting strings of saliva over the shaft and going back down. She licked my balls one by one, took them whole into her mouth, and came back up with her tongue flat beneath my cock. My head was sunk into the pillow and my fists were clenched around the sheets.

—You’re going to fill me with cum —she said with her mouth pressed to my glans—. All of it. Don’t you dare spill a drop outside.

She took me into her mouth again. Faster. When I felt I couldn’t hold back anymore, I tried to warn her, but she dug her nails into my thighs and didn’t let go. I came in her throat in spasms that made me lift my ass off the bed, and she swallowed gush after gush without losing a drop, her eyes locked on mine. At the end she pulled my cock from her mouth with an obscene plop, stuck out her tongue so I could see the last traces of semen, and swallowed them.

Then she lay on top of me. I thought I would need a few minutes. She laughed.

—Don’t worry —she said—. With what you’ve taken, it won’t go down for hours.

She was right. She guided me inside her without effort. I felt my cock opening her cunt, sinking all the way in, bumping against something soft. She let out a long moan and stayed still for a moment with her eyes closed. Then she rose up onto her thighs and began to move. She did it with the calm of an experienced animal: lifting until only the head was left inside, dropping down hard, turning her hips just enough for it to rub her everywhere.

—What a cock you have, Andrés —she panted—. What a cock, what a cock, what a delicious cock…

Within minutes she was moaning without shame, grabbing her own breasts, pinching her nipples herself. She lifted her tits and licked them. I dug my fingers into her hips, lifted her and slammed her back down in one pull, and she let out a shriek and her whole cunt clenched around my cock. She leaned down to kiss me with her mouth open, drooling over me, and I took the chance to grab her ass and fuck her from below at a pace that made her lose the ability to speak. I didn’t know if she was having one orgasm, two, or three. I felt her cunt fill with wetness and drip over my balls.

—Come inside me —she whispered in my ear, biting my earlobe—. Fill me up, I want to feel you hot inside.

When I finally let go, I felt as if half my spine discharged with each spasm. I pulled her against me and emptied my cock inside her cunt in four, five deep thrusts. She stayed on top, motionless, squeezing me inside with her muscles as if she wanted to draw out the very last drop.

And then I heard the giggles in the hallway.

Camila got up, opened the door, and let in three girls who had been spying for a while. They were dark-haired, slender, young. One ran her fingers through Camila’s hair in greeting. Another knelt at the foot of the bed and smiled at me.

—Let them watch —said Camila, referring to me—. If you want, they’ll want to try it.

I let myself go. I could no longer think. In seconds the three had undone their wraparound skirts and were naked on the bed. The one who had knelt first cleaned with her tongue the remains of cum and Camila’s juice still dripping over my cock and balls. She sucked hard, swallowing what she drew out, and when she had my cock hard again she turned it toward one of her companions, who sat on me without warning. Her cunt was as wet as Camila’s. She moved on me slowly, while the third climbed onto my chest and wordlessly asked me, gripping the back of my neck, to eat her cunt from below. I ran my tongue between her folds, found her swollen clit, and sucked it hard while Camila, apart on the edge of the bed, masturbated watching us with a satisfied smile. The three of them came on me, one after another, each screaming in her own language, and the last I laid face-down and fucked with her face smashed against the mattress until I filled her round, firm ass with another jet of semen.

***

We went down to dinner after nine. At the table were Rodrigo, Mateo, Camila, two adult women, and me. They introduced them as Beatriz, Mateo’s wife, and Yolanda, Rodrigo’s wife. They were past forty. Neither hid the curiosity with which they looked at me.

—Look, Andrés —said Camila, raising her glass in a toast—. Here there are no taboos. Nobody has relationships with anyone they don’t want to, but nobody asks about kinship either.

Mateo explained it later, while we ate a stew that tasted of herbs I didn’t know. Fifteen people survived the earthquake. The eight women of childbearing age started having children quickly, fed almost exclusively on what little had survived from the last planting: the plant they call kanchu. Twenty-five years later there were one hundred.

—Parents, children, grandchildren, cousins —said Mateo with a shrug—. More or less we know who fathered whom. But only more or less.

—And contraception? —I asked.

—None —said Rodrigo—. We need hands to work the land.

You’re in a lovely nightmare, I thought. And you don’t want to wake up.

***

I was given a room. Beatriz took me by the arm upstairs. Along the way she slid her hand between my legs and checked that I was already hard again just from the brush of her hip against mine.

—Tonight you’re sleeping with Lucía —she told me in a low voice—. She turned eighteen ten days ago. We’re hoping you’ll leave her the little seed.

She pushed the door open gently. Lucía was in bed, pretending to sleep under a cotton sheet. Her mouth trembled with contained laughter. She had long, straight hair spread across the pillow.

—Good night —murmured Beatriz, and kissed me on the mouth with tongue before leaving, giving me a clear warning of what she tasted like.

Lucía opened her eyes as soon as the door closed. She smiled with all her teeth, sat up, let the sheet fall, and held out her arms to me. She was naked underneath, with erect little breasts and brown nipples pointing toward me.

—Take off your clothes —she said—. I want to see you.

I undressed in front of her while she watched me propped on one elbow. When I saw her eyes widen at the sight of my cock already ready, I understood she was impatient. She ran her tongue over her lips without noticing. When I got into bed, she climbed on me without wasting a second, but I made her turn over. I wanted to taste her first. I opened her legs slowly and looked at her cunt for a moment: she had only a tiny black fuzz and a pair of small lips, closed like a flower, already beginning to glisten with moisture. I kissed her between the thighs, slowly, moving up from the knee, until I ran my tongue over the whole vulva in one sweep and she gave a muffled cry. I opened her with my thumbs, found her clit with the tip of my tongue and sucked it patiently while I slipped in one finger, then two, feeling her tighten around them. She was very, very tight. She tasted sweet, like an unripe fruit.

—Oh my God —she murmured—, oh God, how do you do it…

I licked her until she twisted and pressed my head against her cunt with both hands, moaning loudly without fear of being heard, until she came over my tongue. Then, when she, not really knowing how, tried to return the favor in her own way, I knew they had been preparing her for months for that night. She sucked me clumsily but with real hunger, helping herself with both hands, looking up at me to see if she was doing it right.

I entered her slowly. She was tight. I felt every centimeter going in as if I had to make my way through her. When I reached the bottom she ran out of air and dug her nails into my back. I began to move carefully, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in to the hilt. She clenched involuntarily and laughed when she felt it. I grabbed her waist and let her set the pace. After a while she was riding my cock hard, her small breasts bouncing, biting her lip, speaking words in Quechua that I didn’t understand but which had to be words of pleasure.

—More, more, more —she panted in Spanish—, give it all to me, I want a child from you…

I laid her on her back, lifted her legs over my shoulders, and fucked her deep, watching her face lose its shape every time I hit bottom. I came inside her as soon as I felt her trembling again, grinding my teeth, pushing the semen as far inside as possible. She stayed below without moving, eyes closed, breathing hard, legs still open and a thin white thread slipping out between her thighs.

—Was it this good the first time? —I asked her afterward.

—Better —she said—. But I like this one more.

She fell asleep against my shoulder.

***

At four in the morning I got up to drink water. Beatriz was in the hallway, leaning against the frame, as if she had been waiting for a while.

—Before you take her —she whispered—, let me have a try.

She took me to the shared bathroom. It was a large room with whitewashed walls, with a huge zinc bathtub at the far end. She closed the latch. When she took off her wraparound skirt, I saw her fully for the first time: huge breasts with wide, dark areolas, a broad waist, hips of a woman who has given birth several times and is not ashamed of it. Her cunt was hairy, thick, and so swollen that her lips showed through the hair. She stepped into the tub and turned on the shower.

—Come —she said.

The warm water fell over both of us. Beatriz didn’t talk much. She soaped my body slowly, pausing between my legs, taking my cock in both soapy hands and stroking me without hurry while looking me in the eyes. She bent down, licked my slippery glans, and came back up. I returned the attention. I soaped her giant breasts, squeezed them, leaned down to suck each nipple until it was hard as a stone. I ran my hand down her back to the start of her ass, and there she smiled.

—There —she said—. I like it better that way.

She leaned over the edge of the tub, spread her buttocks with both hands, and showed me her tight, dark ass, shining with water. I prepared her patiently. I knelt behind her, ran my tongue over her asshole until it relaxed, filled it with saliva, slid a finger coated in soap inside to the knuckle, and waited for her to adjust. Then a second. Beatriz moaned with her forehead resting on the zinc edge, wriggling her ass into my face and hands.

—Now, now —she panted—, now I want it inside me, put it in…

I set the tip against her and pushed slowly. When the glans passed the ring, she gave a deep moan that echoed off the wet walls. I went in little by little until I had her speared completely, my balls resting against her wet cunt. I held her by the hips and began slowly, watching my whole cock appear and disappear inside her ass. She asked for more force. I gave her more force. I slid one hand underneath and found her clit through the hair of her cunt, and rubbed it in time with the way I was fucking her ass. We stayed like that for ten minutes, maybe less. Beatriz came twice, screaming, not caring if anyone heard, clenching my cock with each wave. The steam fogged the mirror and the sound of the water covered everything else. When I came inside her, my legs trembled and I emptied the last drop into the deepest part of her ass with one long thrust.

As I pulled out, a warm stream slipped between her buttocks and ran along the inside of her thigh until it disappeared into the water.

—Don’t tell anyone about this —she told me afterward, drying my back with a towel—. Not because I care, but because Lucía will get jealous.

And she laughed.

***

I slept for four hours. When I went down to the porch, the sun was already scorching. In the kitchen there was only a pregnant young woman named Inés, with a little girl holding her hand. She made me a strong coffee and sat beside me. She was Mateo’s daughter, she said. Though she wasn’t very sure either, she added.

—Here you don’t ask those things —she said with a shrug.

She had her wraparound skirt open over one leg, and when she crossed her thighs I saw that she too was wearing nothing underneath: the swollen cunt of pregnancy, wet, peeking out between the folds of fabric. She sent the girl out to fetch firewood from the yard. When she looked back at me, I understood. I invited her to come closer. I ran my hand over her round, taut belly, over her swollen, hot breasts that were already leaking a couple of drops of milk through the fabric. I opened her wraparound skirt all the way and leaned down to suck them, one and then the other, swallowing the sweet thread that flowed from her wide, dark nipples. She sighed and guided my hand to her cunt. She was soaking wet, even more than the others. I slid in two fingers and she melted against the chair with a low gasp.

—Pregnancy does this to me —she whispered—. Hot all day, wet all day.

She pulled my cock out of my pants without removing my clothes, sucked me for a while right there on the porch —slowly, with her belly resting on my knee—, and then stood up. She sat me in the porch chair, turned around, lifted her wraparound skirt, and climbed onto me with the awkward grace of pregnant women. She impaled herself on my cock little by little, moaning softly, until I was all the way inside her. She moved slowly on me, hands on my knees, rocking that generous ass while I grabbed her tits from behind and pinched her dripping nipples. I felt her incredibly tight, hot inside, her cunt pouring over my balls. When I felt her contract and heard her moan through her orgasm, I let go with her and filled her cunt with semen. Then she cleaned me with her mouth, unhurried, kneeling between my legs, sucking me until the last drop that fell to the wooden floor, as if it were part of breakfast.

***

My final night was Yolanda’s. Rodrigo’s wife. Forty-something, heavy body, the biggest breasts in the village. She came upstairs with me laughing at her husband’s comments at dinner.

—Do whatever you want to me —she said, closing the door—. I’m the dirtiest bitch in this house, and in this village that’s saying something.

She wasn’t lying. She pushed me onto the bed and began undressing me with her teeth, tearing the buttons off my shirt one by one. When she had my pants down, she flung her breasts out of the wraparound skirt —they were enormous, white, sagging, and wise— and put my cock between them. She spat into the cleavage, squeezed my shaft with both hands, and started giving me a Russian hand job while she licked the tip every time my head peered out between her breasts. Then she took it in her mouth all the way. She sucked me with the technique of a woman who has been fucking nonstop for twenty-five years: sucking, licking my balls, spitting on me, swallowing again. When she lifted my legs and ran her tongue over places no woman had ever touched before —the perineum, the asshole, pushing with the tip until she got me inside— I understood it was going to be a long night.

I returned the favor. I laid her on her back, opened her thick legs, and buried my face between those broad thighs with my head pressed to the mattress. Her cunt was thick, juicy, with a strong, good smell that stuck to my beard. I ate her out for what felt like an eternity, sucking her clit and working three fingers inside her at once, while she rode my face and screamed at herself that yes, right there, don’t stop. She came over my mouth twice, soaking me all the way to the neck.

Then I put her on all fours. That enormous ass waited raised in the air, both entrances visible.

—Which one do you want it in? —I asked, holding her hips.

—Both, one after the other —she answered, laughing—. And don’t ask me anything else.

I went in through her cunt first and fucked hard, with her thick buttocks bouncing against my pubis each time I thrust, with her breasts hanging and swaying beneath her. She was tight and at the same time relaxed, as if she knew exactly how to receive me. When I felt her coming again, I pulled my wet cock out and put it in her ass. I pushed. It went in without resistance, as if she had been expecting me for years. I fucked her ass slowly and then fast, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her head back, while she worked three fingers into her cunt on her own. We came almost together. I emptied my cock into the depths of her ass and she collapsed face-down onto the sheets, panting, with semen running from her buttocks down her thighs.

She still made me lick it all off before letting me sleep.

When I left the room at dawn, I felt my body would not be able to handle climbing into the jeep.

***

I said goodbye one by one. Camila and Inés cried, with the little girls in their arms. Rodrigo squeezed my shoulder and made me promise I would return in six months with news of the signed contract. Mateo handed me a jar with a mixture of the plant and another herb that grew along the river, a second sample for the lab to study.

I drove to the regional airport without listening to the radio. I had the jar on the passenger seat and my head full of things I wasn’t going to be able to tell anyone. I confess I let some tears slip on the last stretch of road. Too many sensations for three days. Too much lust, too much desire, too much of everything.

I went back six months later. But that, as they say, is another story.