What Happened the Night I Took Camila to Her Apartment

My name is Ramiro, though in the family they always called me Rami. I’m thirty-eight, an ordinary guy and, like most men I know, I like women more than I probably should. I’ve been married to Cecilia for ten years. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but when the opportunity comes and my head lets me, I don’t exactly play the saint.

Cecilia has an older brother who lives in another province and we hardly ever see him. His only daughter, Camila, moved to the capital four years ago, first to finish law school and then to start working at a law firm three blocks from my office. She’s twenty-four. She’s not the prettiest woman you’ll see on the street, but there’s something about her that makes people stop talking. She smiles all the time, looks you in the eye, listens. Her hair is long and brown, her tits are small and firm, and she has long legs that end in a round, high ass that thrusts forward when she walks fast.

Camila and I always had a strange chemistry. Ever since she was a teenager and they introduced me as her aunt’s boyfriend, she said I was her favorite uncle. At family gatherings she’d sit next to me, steal my drink, laugh at my bad jokes. When she found out we worked on almost the same block, she started waiting for me some afternoons at the subway entrance and asking me to drive her to her parents’ place, where she had lived until recently. Those car rides, with Buenos Aires traffic squeezing us for forty minutes, ended up becoming routine. We talked about everything. Her job, mine, Cecilia, the guys she was seeing. Once, at a red light, she asked me what sex was like after so many years in a relationship. I gave her some cowardly answer, staring ahead, and we both stayed silent for the rest of the ride. When she got out of the car that afternoon, the image stayed burned into me: her legs opening as she stepped up onto the curb, and the leggings outlining her cunt right down to the pubic bone.

A couple of months earlier, Camila had signed the deeds to her first apartment. A big studio in Caballito, with a balcony, bought through sheer effort after two years of overtime. She was proud of it, and rightly so.

***

On the Friday that matters, I left the office wondering where I’d have dinner. Cecilia had left on Wednesday with the kids for my mother-in-law’s place on the coast, and I had the whole weekend to myself. I was driving slowly along Avenida Rivadavia when I saw Camila on the sidewalk, waiting for a bus with a tired look on her face. I rolled down the window, honked, and asked where she was headed.

—Home, Uncle. I’m dead tired.

—Get in, I’ll take you.

I took a couple of extra blocks so I wouldn’t send her the long way around by subway. We talked about the firm, about a brief she’d won that week, about a sick great-aunt. When we were already close, I asked her what she had planned.

—Tonight, rest. Tomorrow I’m going out with some friends, but today I want to lie around and not think.

I double-parked in front of her building. Before getting out, she turned around on the seat.

—Uncle, don’t you want to come up for a bit to see the apartment? I should warn you, it’s small, but it turned out nice.

—I’ll confess I was waiting for you to ask —I said, laughing—. Give me a second.

There was a wine shop on the corner I knew. I bought two bottles of very cold cava and went back to the car. Camila looked at them, raised her eyebrows, and kissed me on the cheek, too close to my mouth, before getting into the elevator.

***

The studio was, as she’d said, small, but decorated with a taste I hadn’t expected. A gray sofa, a low table, plants in every corner, books stacked sideways on the bookshelf. And against the back wall, a perfectly made double bed, with a folded raw wool blanket at the foot. That bed caught my attention. It was the bed of a woman who clearly didn’t plan to sleep alone forever.

—I’m going to put on something comfortable, will you use the bathroom if you want? —she said, and disappeared behind a wooden screen.

I went into the bathroom and, while washing my hands, I saw a wicker basket with the lid slightly ajar. Old habit of mine, I won’t deny it: I lifted the lid. On top of everything, a white cotton pair of panties with light blue trim, the crotch still marked by the day’s use. I pulled them out with two fingers, as if they were burning me, and brought them to my face. They smelled like soap, warm skin, and something else, something intimate, both acidic and sweet, that got into my blood before I could even think. My cock shot up all at once, so hard it hurt against the fabric of my trousers. I pressed it against my fly for a few seconds, rubbing the tip against the cotton seam, imagining the cunt that had lived inside them all day. Then I folded them and left them exactly as they had been. I came out of the bathroom red-faced and still hard, adjusting myself against my waistband so it wouldn’t show.

***

Camila had traded the tailored suit for black leggings and an oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. No bra. Her nipples showed through the fabric every time she moved. I offered her a glass, uncorked the cava, and we sat on the sofa. We toasted to the apartment, to the successful lawyer, to the uncle who took a detour to drop her off. The music was in the background, something slow, fifties jazz. We drank the second glass faster. She poured me the third, standing up, looking down at me, and I took the chance to stare at the small tits bouncing under the cotton.

—Dance with me, or are you going to stay there staring like an idiot?

I laughed. I stood up. I took her by the waist as if we were dancing a family waltz, at a prudent distance. She erased that distance in two measures. She rested her cheek against my neck and slipped both hands across my back, then lower, until she planted her palms on my ass and pulled me against her. The space between us vanished. I felt the heat of her hard little tits against my chest, her breath on my collarbone, her thighs brushing mine. And when my cock started swelling inside my pants, instead of moving away, she adjusted her hips so the tip was pressed right against her pubic bone, and began a tiny, almost imperceptible motion, rubbing herself against my bulge to the rhythm of the jazz.

—Uncle —she murmured, without lifting her head—. Is this really happening?

I kissed her neck slowly, in the curve where her hair fell to one side. I kissed behind her ear. Then I lifted her face with two fingers under her chin and kissed her on the mouth. It wasn’t an uncle’s kiss. It was a man’s kiss. She gave it back to me, parting her lips at first contact, and her tongue trembled against mine as if she’d been practicing for months. She sucked my tongue, bit my lower lip, slipped an open hand inside my belt, searching for my skin.

***

We fell onto the sofa without breaking the kiss. I slid my hands under her T-shirt and pulled it up over her shoulders. Her tits were small, white, with pink hard nipples, much more sensitive than they looked. I bent down and bit them, sucked them, licked them one after the other while she dug her nails into my nape and breathed like she was short of air. I pinched one while sucking the other, and Camila let out a short, surprised moan, as if no one had ever done that to her before. One of her hands went down to my fly, found the zipper, made room inside, pulled my cock out of my boxer briefs, and grabbed it without hesitation. She started stroking me with her dry palm, gripping the shaft firmly, and with her thumb she rubbed the tip where a bead of fluid had already begun to form.

—You’re rock hard, Uncle —she murmured against my mouth—. You’re hard for me.

—I’ve been like this for hours, Cami. Since you got into the car.

—Come here —she said, standing up without letting go—. Not here.

She literally dragged me by the hand, tugging on my cock, to the bed. I pulled off her leggings in one yank, the panties came with them, then the T-shirt. I left her naked beside the lamp and looked at her the way you look at a painting you don’t dare touch. She had a young body, unmarked, unbruised. Small tits standing up, hard nipples, a neat trimmed pubis, and between her thighs a pink, wet slit already shining with how soaked she was. I stripped in thirty seconds and lay down beside her, my cock bouncing against my belly.

—I can’t believe what I’m doing —I told her in her ear.

—I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen, Rami. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this cock.

***

I kissed her everywhere. I started at her forehead, went down her nose, her mouth, her neck, her sternum. I bit her nipples again, harder, until she arched and let out a sharp cry. I went down to her navel, to the almost invisible line of hair that faded into her pubis. I opened her legs with both hands and paused to look at her cunt up close, the swollen pink lips, the clit peeking out from under the hood, everything shining with slick. I ran my nose over it and inhaled deeply. She smelled exactly like the panties in the basket, but ten times stronger, mixed with the sweat from hours in the office, and that thought alone made me start leaking.

—Lick me, Uncle —she said, her voice broken—. Please, lick me.

I drove my whole tongue from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke, tasting her. She grabbed my hair with both hands and pressed my face against her cunt. I licked her lips one by one, bit them slowly, then slid my tongue inside as far as it would go, fucking her with my mouth, and she started moving my face against her pubis as if she wanted to bury me there. I found her clit with the tip of my tongue, licked it in circles, then caught it between my lips and sucked it like you suck a nipple, with steady suction. Camila spread her legs wider and wider, until her heels were touching her ass, offering me everything.

—Put it in me, put it in me with your fingers, come on —she panted.

I shoved two fingers into her at once, up to the knuckles. She was so wet she swallowed them without resistance. I started moving them in and up, searching for the spot, while still sucking her clit. I felt her cunt contracting around my fingers, felt her starting to tremble from the legs upward.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop —she repeated, clutching the sheet—. Uncle, please, don’t stop, I’m coming, I’m coming.

She came with her whole body, legs tight, back arched, her cunt clamping around my fingers in spasms that lasted forever, and a sound I’d never heard from a woman before, somewhere between a moan and a sob, long and muffled into the pillow. I kept licking slowly while she shook, sucking up the slick that drenched her thighs. Then she went limp, laughing and crying at the same time, pulling my hair so I’d climb up to kiss her.

—Come up here. I want to feel you inside me now. Put it all in me.

I got on top of her. I took her cock in my hand and ran the tip along her slit from top to bottom, soaking it, rubbing it against her clit until she started lifting her hips to meet me. I placed the head at her entrance and pushed slowly, looking into her eyes. I lifted her legs and braced myself on her calves to sink it in better. Every centimeter was a small battle against impatience. I felt her cunt opening around my cock, hot and tight, swallowing me little by little. Camila squeezed her eyelids shut, bit her lip, let out a long groan when I entered all the way, until my balls hit her ass.

—Oh God, you’re so big, Uncle. You’re filling me up.

—I love you, Uncle —she said after that, and looked at me in a way that split me in two.

—Me too, Cami. Me too.

I started moving slowly, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in gently so she’d feel every centimeter. Then faster, then hard, driving into her to the hilt until the bed started banging against the wall. I grabbed one tit with one hand, squeezed it, pinched the nipple. With the other I found her clit between our bodies and started rubbing it with my thumb while I fucked her. She dug her heels into my ass, pushing me, asking for more.

—Come on, Uncle, fuck me, fuck me hard, tear me apart.

I flipped her over without pulling out. I put her on all fours, face against the pillow and ass raised for me. I paused for a second looking at her pink asshole and the cunt opened by my cock, with a thread of slick running down her thigh. I shoved back in and she screamed into the fabric. I grabbed her hips with both hands and started pounding her the way I’d wanted since I met her, watching her ass bounce against my bones, listening to the wet sound of her cunt swallowing my cock again and again.

—Pull my hair —she begged—. Come on, treat me like a whore.

I gathered her hair in my fist and pulled. Camila arched her back and stayed under me like a bitch in heat. I slapped one ass cheek, then the other, marking her white skin red. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked her with my eyes without stopping. She nodded and pressed her thighs back with her hands, forcing me to drive in deeper.

—Inside, inside, come inside me.

I came inside her, my cock buried to the root, feeling the cum rise from my balls and spill into the depths of her cunt in three, four, five hot spurts. She came with me a second later, squeezing my cock in spasms that wrung me out to the last drop. I fell on top of her, panting, mouth against her nape, and stayed inside until I went soft and slipped out on its own, with a white thread of semen dripping from her lips.

***

We stayed like that for a while, without speaking. Then I went to get the glasses, brought the second bottle, and we poured ourselves drinks in bed, naked, legs crossed like two kids who’ve just discovered a secret. Camila ran two fingers through her cunt, brought them to her mouth, and stared straight at me while she sucked them clean.

—Ramiro —she told me, serious—. I’m not telling anyone about this. Not even my best friend.

—Me neither, Cami. This stays between you and me.

—Stay the night.

—I’m staying.

We ordered a pizza through an app. When it arrived, she put on one of my shirts and nothing else, no panties, with my cum still running down her thigh, and opened the door like that, shameless, while the delivery guy tried not to look at her legs. We ate sitting on the floor, the box between us, laughing at nonsense. It was almost eleven when we got back into bed.

***

The second time was different. Slower, less urgency. I asked her to turn over and kissed her entire back, vertebra by vertebra, until I reached the ass that had driven me crazy for years. I bit it slowly, one cheek and then the other, leaving red teeth marks. I spread her ass cheeks with both hands and ran my tongue through the crease, top to bottom, stopping at the pink asshole, circling there with the tip until she started moving her hips. I went lower, carefully opened her legs, drove my tongue into her cunt from behind. I put two fingers in her cunt and my thumb against the other hole, and like that, with both hands busy and my mouth sucking everything I found, I made her come again, moaning into the pillow, trembling from her legs to her neck.

When she turned over to return the favor, she shoved me back against the headboard and settled between my legs. She took my cock in one hand and my balls in the other, and looked up at me with bright eyes. She started by running her tongue along the whole length, from base to tip, then licked it like it was an ice cream cone, then took it into her mouth slowly, watching me, until I felt the head against her throat. She started sucking me patiently, swallowing me all the way down, cheeks hollowed, while her other hand stroked my balls. Every time she pulled me out, she looked at me with those good-niece eyes that drove me insane. She did something with her lips and tongue, a twist of her tongue around the crown while she worked me with her hand, that nearly left me senseless.

—Wait, wait, I’m going to finish here —I told her, taking her face in both hands.

—Don’t you want to? Don’t you want to come in my mouth?

—Another day, I promise. Right now I want inside you again.

I lay back down. She climbed on top, took my cock in her hand, set it against the entrance to her cunt and sat down slowly, sinking it into herself centimeter by centimeter until she was buried to the hilt. She stayed there, looking down at me, hair falling over one shoulder and her little tits pointed at my face. She started moving first softly, undulating her hips, then up and down, then digging her nails into my chest while she bounced on my cock like she wanted to empty my balls. I grabbed her tits, pinched her nipples, slapped her ass every time she came down. When I saw she was close, I grabbed her hips and started pounding her from below, slamming her pubis with every thrust.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming —she repeated—. Come with me, Uncle, come inside.

We came together, with a cry that I hope the apartment walls didn’t fully capture. I felt her cunt squeezing my cock in waves while I unloaded inside her for the second time that night.

She collapsed on top of me, with my cock still inside, both of us soaked. I held her. I fell asleep with my hand on her breast, counting the beats of her heart until I stopped counting.

***

We woke at dawn, still holding each other. Without saying anything we started touching again, almost by reflex. I was hard from sleep and she turned onto her side, giving me her back, searching for my bulge with her ass. I lifted her top leg, lined my cock up with her entrance and entered her from behind, slowly, while kissing her nape and holding one tit with my free hand. It was a slow, morning fuck, almost ceremonial, moving only a little, feeling her tight and still full of my cum from the night before. She moved her hips back to take me in, searching for the right rhythm. I bit her shoulder, found her clit with my fingers and rubbed it slowly until she started trembling. We both came without hurry, almost in silence, she biting her hand so she wouldn’t scream, me emptying myself inside her for the third time.

We stayed silent for a long while, staring at the ceiling, our hands linked.

—What do we do now? —I asked.

—What people always do with pretty secrets, Uncle. Take care of it.

Camila went into the shower. I didn’t want to bathe. I told her, without any shame left, that I wanted to keep her smell on me a little longer. She made me coffee, we ate toast, we talked about random things as if the night before had been a shared dream.

At the door, before I left, she hugged me for a long time. She kissed me as if she knew exactly what she was doing and why.

—Uncle.

—What?

—Next Friday Cecilia’s there, right?

—Yes.

—Then the one after that.

I went down in the elevator with the worst-disguised smile in history. I drove home with the window down and Camila’s perfume still on my skin and the taste of her cunt still in my mouth. And yes, three weeks have already passed since that night, and still, whenever I think about it, I get hard and end up with a lump in my throat at the same time. I don’t regret it. And, the way things are going, I won’t have to wait much longer to sink it into her again all the way to the root.