What Happened with My Sister at the Car Wash

The day after New Year’s dinner was bound to be a long one. After wrapping the last gifts for my sister Carolina and my two nieces, I left the house with the car packed and a lukewarm coffee in the cup holder. I had one hundred and eighty kilometers of road ahead of me, almost all of it through rural back roads with no decent gas stations.

Carolina lives with her family in a small town in the province, surrounded by fields and grain silos. When I got there, the girls were hanging from my neck before I’d even turned off the engine. My brother-in-law came out onto the porch with a beer in his hand, and my sister appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel.

—I thought you were coming tomorrow —she said, and looked at me a second too long.

We spent the day as if nothing were happening. Barbecue, lingering at the table after lunch, the girls playing with their presents in the living room. My brother-in-law went off early for a nap. Carolina and I stayed out on the porch drinking white wine, talking about things I no longer remember, skirting around others I do.

Carolina is forty-one years old. She wears her brown hair to her shoulders and almost always ties it back with a scarf. She’s of medium build, with long legs, medium firm breasts that showed through her blouse every time she drew a deep breath, and a way of laughing with her head thrown back that makes her seem much younger. I had fantasized about her long before I knew those things had a name, and in every teenage wank her face was the one that came up when I closed my eyes. It was a secret I carried with a mix of guilt and resignation, like someone who knows certain doors never open.

When evening started to fall and the time came to head back, I told her I was going to stop on the road for gas and run the car through the town car wash, since it was covered in road dust.

—Wait —she said, getting up—. I need to buy milk and bakery stuff for tomorrow. I’ll go with you to the store.

My brother-in-law was still asleep. The girls were watching cartoons. Carolina grabbed the keys and her purse and climbed into the passenger seat in one quick movement.

The store and the car wash were on the same corner, three blocks from her house. It wouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes. That’s what I told myself.

When she settled into the seat, the light green skirt she was wearing rode up a little. I saw her legs wrapped in dark green stockings, smooth, snug against her thighs, and a centimeter of white skin showing above where the elastic ended. I looked away at once, but not fast enough. When I lifted my eyes, hers were already on me. Brown eyes, large, with an expression I couldn’t read and would have preferred not to read.

I felt the blood pumping in my neck and also lower down, in my fly, where my cock was hardening without permission. I started the engine to keep my hands busy with something.

—It’s hot in here —I said, and rolled the window down a little.

—Yeah —she answered—. It’s hot.

***

We drove to the store talking about anything and everything. The gifts, the weather, our grandmother who no longer remembered names. Carolina talked faster than usual, letting out laughs that were too loud for the jokes she was making. I drove staring straight ahead, counting the length of each block, gripping the wheel harder than necessary, trying to get my erection to go down and it wouldn’t.

When we got there, she got out to do her errand and I pulled up to the pump at the gas station next door. While I filled the tank, I watched her through the shop window. She looked outside, toward me, between the magazine racks, and turned her head away again when she realized I’d caught her. She came back to the car with a cloth bag hanging from her shoulder and a gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

—I bought a can of beer too —she said, showing it to me—. Just one. It’s been a long time since I drank in the middle of the day.

I smelled her breath when she leaned over to stow the bag in back. She had lied about that can: she’d already had something else before we left, while I wasn’t watching. Alcohol had always made the two of us weird, especially her, because it made her more honest than was wise.

I drove the hundred meters to the automatic car wash. It was one of those old ones, with rotating brushes, no attendant, just a machine with a keypad where you punch in the code.

I got out, selected the long wash, and climbed back into the seat. The red light came on. We rolled slowly over the rails to the center of the tunnel. Engine in neutral, hands still on our knees.

The first blast of water hit the windshield with a sharp crack. Then came the next one, and the next. The whole car started vibrating as if we were inside a train.

***

Carolina looked out her window, looked out mine, looked at the roof. Then she looked at me. Her hand was resting on her thigh, over her skirt, and her fingers were moving just a little, as if she were playing an invisible piano.

—It’s been a long time since we were alone —she said, quietly.

—Yeah —I answered.

I couldn’t say anything else. My throat felt closed. I dropped my eyes to the gearshift so I wouldn’t look at her.

Then the brushes came down on the car. First the roof one, then the side ones. In seconds, the windows were covered in white foam and in that thick, scraping noise of bristles dragging over metal. The outside world disappeared. There was no gas station, no store, no town, no one who could see us.

Carolina reached her arm over the back of my seat and leaned toward me. I felt her hair brush my cheek before her lips found mine.

The first kiss was short, almost a question. Then came the second, which asked nothing at all. Her mouth was warm, with a sweet beer undertaste, and she pushed her tongue between my lips with a certainty I’d never heard in her voice. I sucked her tongue, bit it slowly, and she moaned softly inside my mouth.

—We shouldn’t —I murmured against her mouth.

—I know —she said—. I know we shouldn’t. I’m getting soaked anyway.

And she kept going.

We’d been siblings for twenty-nine years. Twenty-nine years of looking out for each other, fighting over stupid things, never saying this.

I laid my hand on her thigh. The dark green stocking was warm under my palm, soft in a way I hadn’t expected. I slid my fingers upward slowly, waiting for her to stop me, giving myself time to back off. She didn’t stop me. On the contrary, she parted her legs just a little and guided me inside her skirt with her other hand until I felt the elastic of her panties under my fingertips.

When my fingers reached the edge of her underwear, she was already wet. The whole center of the fabric was soaked through, and when I pressed it against her cunt I drew a shiver from her that made her legs tremble. Carolina sucked in a breath through her teeth and gripped the back of my neck, deepening the kiss. The panties were thin, plain white cotton. I pulled them aside and touched her directly. The short hair, the swollen lip, and in the middle that open, slippery slit sticking to my fingers as if begging me to go in. She let out a low sound, more like a startled whimper than a moan.

—Slowly —she said—. Slowly, please.

***

I did as she asked. I moved my fingers in slow circles over the clit, feeling it rise under my pad like a hard little pearl. Her eyes were closed and her mouth half open. I ran my middle finger from top to bottom, sliding through the slick that was running out of her, and rested it at the entrance. I pushed just the tip in and felt her open around it with a wet little pop. When I started to slide the whole finger in, she caught my wrist hard, pulled my hand out, and took it in hers. She turned it, drew a circle in the air with my glossy fingers, and put them in her mouth. Then she kissed me again, mixing the taste of her with the taste of the two of us.

—Taste it —she asked me—. I want you to know what. What your sister tastes like.

I did as she asked there too. I sucked my own fingers while she watched me, and I tasted salt and something warm I’d never tried before. She licked her lips as if she had just said the worst thing in the world and had enjoyed saying it.

The sound of the car wash kept going outside, regular, monotonous. A wall of foam and bristles protecting us from the world. Inside the car, though, everything was short breaths, clothes shifting, leather seats creaking.

Carolina lowered her hand to the zipper of my pants and loosened it. She didn’t ask anything. Her fingers were quick, practical, as if she had rehearsed it a hundred times in her head. She yanked my pants and briefs down to mid-thigh, and my cock sprang out, hard, the tip already wet with the spit that had been leaking from me since the kiss. Her eyes widened a little and she drew a deep breath through her nose.

—You’re bigger than him —she said, almost with guilt—. Jesus Christ.

Then she leaned over my lap without waiting to be asked.

The first touch of her mouth was soft, almost shy. She kissed the tip slowly, lips pressed around it, and ran her tongue over the frenulum. Then she opened her mouth and began swallowing it little by little. I felt her go down slowly, lips tight around me, taking two or three centimeters more each time, and rising with her tongue working underneath, against the thick vein. When she reached the limit of what would fit, she gagged, held it back, and went down again. A thread of saliva hung from her chin to my balls.

—Like that, like that, little sister —it slipped out of me, and she moaned with my cock in her mouth, as if that word had hit her somewhere deep inside.

One hand was braced on my thigh, the other wrapped around the base, twisting it slightly as she rose and fell over it with her mouth. She closed her eyes, focused. I watched her from above, seeing her messy hair fall over her face, seeing my cock go in and out between her red lips, seeing her cheeks swell and hollow each time she sucked. I could hardly believe what was happening.

I grabbed her hair and moved it away from her face so I wouldn’t miss a single motion. She looked up at me from below, with my cock halfway in her mouth, and winked. It was a whore’s gesture, the gesture of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, and that finished breaking my mind.

I slid my fingers under her skirt again. She was kneeling sideways on the seat, legs half bent and ass lifted, and she let me do it. I touched her again, this time more insistently, sliding one finger inside and then two, up to the knuckles, feeling her cunt clench and leak at the same time. I started moving my fingers fast, in and out, and with my thumb I hunted for her clit. She moaned around me, her mouth still full, and the vibration went through my whole body.

—Look how I suck you —she murmured, taking me out for a second to breathe, lips shining—. Look how your big sister sucks your cock.

And she took me back in all the way.

I didn’t last as long as I would have wanted. The mix of the heat, the noise of the car wash, knowing it was her, hearing her say those things, was too much. When she felt I was about to come from the way my thighs were tightening and how I was swelling on her tongue, she pressed her nails softly into my thigh, a clear sign: don’t move. And she stayed. She sped up, pressed her lips tighter, and sucked me with real hunger, as if she wanted to pull out the very last drop. I came into her mouth in three long spurts, feeling each one empty out in jolts, and she swallowed all of it without pulling away, while I arched against the seatback and buried my fingers in her until I felt her close around them, rhythmic, around my hand. She came with my cock still in her mouth, smothering a cry against my belly, wetting my palm up to the wrist.

When she finished swallowing, she lifted her head, opened her mouth to show me nothing was left, and ran her tongue over her lips.

—It’s been years since I swallowed —she said, voice rough—. I’d forgotten the taste.

***

We stayed like that for a few seconds, without moving. The car wash entered its final rinse cycle. Clean jets of water swept the foam off the windows. Soon we’d be able to see outside again. Soon we’d have to return to the world.

Carolina straightened up, wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, and tucked her hair behind her ears. Then, without saying a word, she took off her skirt. Just the skirt. She also took off her panties, twisted into a wet ball, and put them in my hand.

—Keep them —she said—. A souvenir.

The dark green stockings stayed on her legs, snug against her thighs, with that strip of bare skin showing above, and below, her shaved cunt still shining with her own slick and my saliva.

—We’re not done yet —she said, her voice a little rough—. Now I want you inside me. I’m dripping.

I was hard again already. Having had her in my mouth hadn’t made me go soft for a second.

She climbed over the gearshift with an agility that made me smile despite myself and straddled me. With one hand she grabbed my cock and pointed it straight at her pussy. She rubbed the tip up and down between her lips, wetting it well, and then rested it at the entrance. She braced her hands on my shoulders, searched for the angle, and sank down slowly. I felt her open around me in one long movement, tight and hot, swallowing me centimeter by centimeter until she was fully seated, my cock buried to the root in her sister.

—Oh, Jesus Christ —she whispered, trembling, eyes closed—. You filled me up completely.

She stayed still for a moment, getting used to it, breathing against my face. Then she started moving her hips in circles, squeezing me inside, not taking me out, grinding her clit against my pelvis. I grabbed her ass with both hands, kneading her cheeks, and helped her move.

—Mariano —she whispered, using my name for the first time all afternoon—. Mariano, look at me. Look at me while you fuck me.

I looked at her. Her eyes held something that wasn’t only desire, something older, more complicated. I unbuttoned her blouse with clumsy fingers and lowered her bra to free her tits. I took one in my mouth and sucked her nipple, biting it slowly, and she arched her back and sped up the motion.

I grabbed her waist and started moving with her. We found a rhythm right away, as if it had been practiced in silence for years. She rose and fell riding me, her skirt tight around her waist, her forehead pressed to mine, breathing against my mouth, never letting go of my neck. I could see her breasts bouncing each time she let herself drop onto me and hear the wet, obscene sound her cunt made every time it swallowed me whole.

—Say it —I asked, pushing hard from below—. Say it, Caro.

—That I’m your sister —she gasped—. That I’m your sister and you’re fucking me. That you’re fucking my cunt good, Mariano. Put it all the way in. Break me.

I grabbed her hips and started lifting and lowering her faster, fucking up into her with all the force the seat gave me. She held back her moans by pressing her mouth to mine, biting my lip, until the moans escaped anyway, muffled, against my tongue.

The car wash’s last cycle ended. A yellow light came on outside, signaling the drying phase. The blower passed over the car with a muffled roar. The windshield still held a veil of droplets that scattered the light into a thousand reflections across Carolina’s face, across her bouncing tits, across the mist beginning to rise from the windows.

We didn’t stop. We looked into each other’s eyes and sped up, because we knew there was no more time. I felt her cunt start tightening, more and more, milking me inside, and she dug her nails into my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.

—Not inside —she managed to say—. Not inside, little brother, because I’m not on anything.

She came at that very instant, with a stifled cry against my skin, trembling all over, clenching me so hard she almost dragged me with her. I pulled out in time, yanking free, and she let herself fall onto my cock with her hand, squeezing it just below the tip, pumping it two, three times. I came in streams over her stomach and skirt, dirtying her white skin and green stockings, while she looked down with her eyes wide open, watching the semen run between her fingers and drip onto her shaved pubis.

—My God —she whispered—. My God, you had so much.

When the green exit light came on, we were still forehead to forehead, breathless, chests rising and falling, everything sticky between the two of us.

***

We dressed in silence, our muscles still loose. Carolina wiped her stomach and thighs with some napkins she found in the glove compartment, made a ball of them, and stuffed it into the store bag. She adjusted her wet skirt, ran her hands over her stockings, and put on lipstick while looking into the rearview mirror. Her panties had stayed in my pocket. She didn’t ask for them back.

We didn’t say anything until I pulled forward, came out of the tunnel, and headed for her house.

—Are you okay? —I asked.

—I’m better than I’ve been in years —she answered—. And don’t ask me anything else, because I might regret it.

I drove the three blocks listening only to the engine. In front of her gate, I stopped the car but didn’t turn it off.

—And now? —I said.

Carolina looked at me. Her face was calm, as if nothing had happened, except for something new in her eyes that would take a while to go away.

—Now you fill up the last stretch of gas and head back home —she said—. And next time you come for New Year’s, we’ll go get milk again. And you’re going to put it inside me, because by then I’ll be taking care of myself.

She got out of the car, grabbed her bag, kissed me on the cheek as if it were any Sunday of any year, and went into the house without looking back.

I sat there for a while with my hands on the wheel, my sister’s panties warm in my pocket. Then I started the car, got back on the road, and drove the one hundred and eighty kilometers home in silence, still tasting her in my mouth, smelling her cunt on my fingers, and carrying the weight of something that could no longer be undone.