What Happened with My Sisters at the Secluded Cabin

My name is Sebastián. What I’m about to tell you I never say out loud to anyone, but putting it into writing makes it feel a little lighter. It started last summer, in August, and it still hasn’t fully ended.

My family works in a strange way. My parents have been together their whole lives without ever separating, and yet they’ve never asked each other for fidelity: the house was always full of lovers who came and went as if they were friends. We grew up seeing that. We grew up thinking desire was something you managed without guilt.

I’m twenty-six. Carolina, my middle sister, is twenty-two: short, with light brown hair cut to the jaw, curvy, with a full mouth that always seemed on the verge of saying something inappropriate. Mariana, the youngest, is twenty-one: tall, slender, dark-haired, with defined collarbones and small, firm tits that showed beneath any T-shirt. The three of us inherited our father’s blue eyes and our mother’s knack for tangling us up with anyone who crossed our path.

Until last year, summers were routine: my grandmother’s house in the south, near the sea, old friends, parties on the sand, warm beer. But that summer my parents decided to rent a cabin in the mountains. An hour along a bad road, no neighbors in sight, a glacial lake twenty minutes away on foot, and a pine forest that smelled of resin when the temperature rose. A whole month.

My parents stayed in the city because of work; they came up on Friday nights and went back down Sunday at dusk. From Monday to Friday, the cabin was ours. And with no internet, no signal, no one around.

At first we were bored. Mariana slept late and read in the porch hammock; Carolina went into the kitchen and tried recipes she found on her phone even though there was no signal; I went down to the lake to swim until my arms went numb. At night, with not much else to do, the three of us ended up on the couch watching whatever the antenna would give us.

One of those nights, already in the second week, Carolina changed the channel and left on an erotic movie one of those late-night ones, with no dialogue and a pretentious soundtrack. On screen, a woman was sucking a guy off while another licked his ass. None of us moved. I kept the beer in my hand, pretending to look at the ceiling but stealing sideways glances at Carolina’s thighs pressing together. Mariana settled into the other corner of the sofa with her legs bent. Carolina, in the middle, had the remote resting on her thigh and was brushing against it without meaning to.

“These are so badly made,” she said, not very convincingly.

“Not that bad,” Mariana muttered.

The three of us laughed at once, like when we were kids and something slipped out during mass. The laugh lasted less than a cough, but something shifted in the air of the room.

“What if we do it?” Carolina said suddenly.

“Do what?”

“That.” She pointed at the screen with her chin. “Once. Just once in our lives. And we never talk about it again. Not even among ourselves.”

I thought she was joking. I waited for the punchline, the “how stupid of me,” the burst of laughter that would pull us all out of the trance. It never came. Mariana was looking at Carolina as if she were seeing her for the first time. Carolina was looking at me.

“I’ve been burning for you for a long time,” she said, and blushed right up to her ears. “I touch myself thinking about you. There, I said it.”

“Me too,” Mariana said, almost in a whisper. “I’ve had way too much desire for a long time and it doesn’t go away. I’ve come more times with your face in my head than with any boyfriend’s.”

My ears went hot and my cock got hard against the pajama pants, so clearly that the two of them noticed at the same time. I looked at them like I was taking inventory. My sisters. And me, there, with the beer trembling in my hand and a heat I could no longer hide.

If I say no, this is over forever.

“Once,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. “And we swear never again.”

“We swear,” they both said at once.

***

We went upstairs to shower separately. We didn’t speak. I washed myself as if I were going to the doctor, soaping up twice, scrubbing my feet, my nails, everything. I ran my hand over my cock while rinsing and forced myself to let go—I didn’t want to come too early. When I came out, I could still hear water running in the other bathrooms and sat on my bed wrapped in a towel, my heart pounding in my throat. For a moment I thought about locking the door and pretending I’d fallen asleep.

Carolina appeared first, barefoot, wearing a big T-shirt that barely covered her thighs. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath: her hard nipples showed through the fabric and when she walked I could see the dark triangle between her legs. She looked at me with her eyes slightly narrowed and bit her lower lip. Mariana came in behind her, also in a T-shirt, holding a small towel in her hands. They were both trembling. So was I.

“I don’t want it to be weird,” I said.

“It’s going to be weird,” Carolina said. “The important thing is that it doesn’t matter.”

She came closer and kissed me on the mouth as if she’d been practicing for months. She shoved her tongue all the way in, biting my lip, and grabbed my cock over the towel with a hand that already knew what it wanted. I closed my eyes. The T-shirt fell to the floor without me quite understanding how, and there she was with her tits bare, heavy, with pink, stiff nipples. Mariana sat on the edge of the bed and pulled hers off over her head, no theatrics, looking at me the whole time. Her tits were small, high, with dark areolas against pale skin. She was more nervous than aroused at first. I held out my hand and she let me pull her in.

I tore off the towel and stood naked, cock pointed at both of them. Carolina gave a rough little laugh.

“Fuck,” she said. “You’ve got a nice thick one.”

She knelt between my legs without taking her eyes off me and grabbed it with both hands, as if measuring it. She stuck out her tongue and licked me from the balls to the tip, very slowly, pausing at the frenulum. When she took me all the way into her mouth, a moan escaped me that embarrassed me. Mariana came up behind her sister and watched Carolina suck me off, watched her cheeks swell each time she went deep, watched a thread of saliva spill from the corner of her mouth.

“Let me try,” Mariana whispered.

Carolina pulled away with my cock shining with saliva and offered it to her sister like passing a glass. Mariana took it awkwardly, kissed the tip, closed her eyes, and took me into her mouth. She sucked differently, softer, with more tongue. Carolina put a hand on the back of her neck and pushed a little.

“Deeper,” she whispered in her ear. “Make her feel your throat.”

Mariana obeyed, gagged, and pulled back coughing, her eyes watery and a strange smile on her face. Then she went back down.

***

What I remember of that first time comes in pieces. The smell of cheap shampoo in Carolina’s hair. Mariana’s nervous laugh when I brushed her chest with my fingertips and all her skin rose in goosebumps. The surprise of realizing that my two sisters, together, understood each other better than I understood any woman. Carolina guided Mariana, and Mariana let herself be guided.

I laid them both on the bed, side by side, and spread their legs. Carolina’s cunt was already soaked, the lips swollen and parted from pure desire. Mariana was tighter, more shy, with a neat patch of dark hair. I slid one finger into each at the same time, pushing down to my knuckles. Carolina arched, Mariana let out a little moan. They turned to look at each other, laughed in embarrassment, and suddenly Carolina leaned over and gave Mariana a long, tongue-filled kiss while I kept fingering them.

“Don’t tell me you two have done this before,” I murmured.

“Now we have,” Carolina said, and kissed her again.

Carolina climbed on top of me and settled my head between her thighs. Her skin still tasted of salt from the last swim in the lake, and underneath that, the thick taste of being wet for hours. I pressed my tongue into her clit and she jolted. Mariana leaned in at the same time and started sucking me with a slowness that left my back pressed to the mattress. The two tongues crossed once, by accident, and they laughed, the shameless little sluts. I could only see the wooden ceiling and hear my own ragged breathing mixed with the moans Carolina let out over my face every time I shoved my tongue between the lips of her cunt.

“I want you to fuck me,” Carolina said, still seated on my face. “I can’t take it anymore, Sebas, put it in.”

I sat up, put her on all fours in the middle of the bed, looked at her over her shoulder, and hesitated for a moment.

“We don’t have a condom,” I said.

“I have one,” Mariana answered from the other side.

“No,” Carolina cut in. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it all the way. Nothing in the middle. I want to feel all of you.”

“She’s right,” Mariana said, and gave me a soft kiss on the neck. “Once in a lifetime. No nothing. And you can come inside if you want.”

That sentence jolted me like a current. I knelt behind Carolina, grabbed one ass cheek in each hand, and spread her open. Her cunt was gaping, shiny, throbbing. I ran the head of my cock from top to bottom over her lips, soaking myself, and she pushed her hips back, impatient. I entered her slowly, marking every thrust, feeling how she squeezed me with each centimeter, holding her by the hips, with Mariana standing off to the side, watching us and stroking her sister’s back. Carolina gripped the sheets with both hands.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she kept saying. “Your dick is so thick, brother, so thick.”

I started fucking her for real, with long thrusts, almost pulling out completely and driving back in hard. The bed creaked. Carolina’s ass bounced against my belly and made a wet sound that filled the room. Mariana sat down beside us and watched my cock going in and out, lips parted and one hand lost between her own thighs.

“Come here,” Carolina told Mariana without turning around. “Lick me. Lick me while he’s fucking me.”

Mariana settled behind Carolina and started running her tongue over the places I couldn’t reach, over the clit, over my balls, over the edge of my cock every time it came out. Carolina let out a sound I’d never heard from her before, half moan, half cry. I sped up without meaning to and the bed began hitting the wall in a rhythm that, the next day, I found marked in the plaster. Carolina came first, with her arms giving out and her face buried in the pillow, squeezing my cock in spasms that nearly made me finish right there.

“That’s never happened to me like that,” she said, almost voiceless. “Lie down.”

I did as she said. I slipped out of her with a wet pop and lay back, cock hard and red and shining with her juices. Mariana climbed on top the other way and lowered my face to her thighs, offering me a tight, perfumed cunt. Carolina took advantage of it to suck me with the calm only someone with time and permission allows herself, slowly licking the remnants of herself, swallowing my cock whole and pulling it out with an obscene pop. I licked Mariana slowly, searching for her clit, then shoved my tongue in as deep as it would go while I held her ass and spread her open. Mariana started moving her hips against my mouth, riding my face, until her knees went weak and she fell onto me, laughing very softly, her forehead on my hip and a tremor in her thighs.

“I just came in your mouth,” she told me, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Sorry my ass,” Carolina said, and slapped her on the ass. “Now he’s going to fuck you.”

Mariana turned around, looked at me, and without saying anything lay back and opened her legs. I settled between them and ran the tip over her entrance. She was very tight, tighter than I expected.

“Slowly,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time.”

I went in centimeter by centimeter, watching my cock work its way into her pussy, watching her lips swell around me. When I was all the way inside, I stayed still, feeling her pulse. I started moving slowly, with short thrusts, watching her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open, biting her knuckles so she wouldn’t scream. Carolina lay down beside us and grabbed one of her tits, sucked it, bit the nipple.

“Look at him,” she told her. “Look at him fucking you. Open up more.”

Mariana opened her eyes and looked at me, and that look was the most pornographic thing of the night: my baby sister’s blue eyes, blurred with tears, watching me drive into her. I sped up. The bed hit the wall again. Mariana dug her nails into my back and came with a long shudder, squeezing me so hard I had to pull out not to finish.

***

We switched again. Carolina got back on all fours, but she was asking for something else.

“In the ass,” she said, without turning around. “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

“Are you sure?”

“Spit on me and put it in.”

I spat on her asshole and ran my thumb over it, loosening her up. She licked her own fingers and passed them over it too. I set the tip against her and pushed in slowly, holding myself back every centimeter. At first she resisted, then gave way, and I felt a hot ring open around me, gripping me differently from any cunt. With Mariana pressed against my waist, watching everything up close as if studying for an exam, I began to push. Carolina held her breath, let out a long exhale, and when she started moving against me I knew she would have memorized that moment forever.

“More, harder,” she panted. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Mariana slid two fingers into her cunt while I drove into her from behind, and Carolina let out a rough, filthy howl that didn’t sound like her. She came again, both hands locked onto the headboard.

“When you pull out,” Mariana whispered in my ear, “give it to me. Give it to me in the mouth.”

I pulled out, and before I could even think, Mariana already had her mouth ready, kneeling at the edge of the bed with her tongue out. She took me all the way in, knowing where I’d been, without hesitation. She gagged a little and swallowed it anyway, not taking her eyes off me. Carolina turned, settled beside her sister, and between the two of them, laughing, scared, aroused, they passed me back and forth from one mouth to the other as if playing some forbidden game. They kissed with my cock between their tongues. They licked my balls at the same time. They sucked the tip together, head to head.

I couldn’t hold out. I felt the pull from my feet. I grabbed Carolina’s hair, I grabbed Mariana’s hair, and I came all over both of them at the same time with a cry that sounded more like a sob than anything else. The first spurts landed on their faces, on their foreheads, on their closed eyelids; the next in their open mouths, on their tongues, on their tits. Carolina swallowed what got in. Mariana did too, after hesitating for a second.

It was, and still is today, the most violent orgasm of my life.

When I finally started breathing normally again, both of them had their eyes closed and their faces soaked, with strands of cum hanging from their chins and nipples. Carolina was smiling and running a finger over her cheek to bring it to her mouth. Mariana wasn’t. Mariana wiped herself with the sheet, slowly, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer in the same room as us.

“You’re a pig,” Mariana said, slowly, in a voice that wasn’t playful.

***

That was the first and the last time. Mariana hasn’t spoken to me since. She doesn’t look me in the eye, doesn’t answer my messages, doesn’t show up when she finds out I’m going to be there. My parents asked what had happened to us and I said what people say in these cases: that she’d gotten weird, teenage stuff, she’d get over it. She still hasn’t gotten over it.

Carolina, on the other hand, doesn’t stay away. She calls me at night, comes to my apartment unannounced, leaves clothes behind on purpose so she has an excuse to come back. When I tell her it was just once, that the three of us swore it, she laughs with that same stupid laugh from the cabin, unzips my pants, and asks me who’s going to tell whom what story.

We’re going back to the mountain village this summer. Mariana already said she’s not coming. Carolina bought the tickets herself and chose the room, the same room. Sometimes, when I lie down, I can still hear the sound of that bed hitting the wall, and I tell myself the mark in the plaster must still be there, waiting for us.

And I still don’t know whether Carolina’s question—“who’s going to tell whom what story?”—relieves me more or scares me more.