What My Mother Saw in That Changing Room

I was nineteen when it all began, in the changing room of a clothing store downtown.

It was the dead of summer. My mother — her name is Lorena — had dragged me shopping because I needed a swimsuit for the following week’s vacation. I hauled myself along with her to the store, we picked sizes by eye, and a salesgirl pointed us to the fitting rooms at the back of the aisle. I went into the first one I found free.

What I wasn’t expecting was what I was about to hear from the cubicle next door.

At first it was a whisper. Then a muffled gasp someone tried to hide with little success. After that there was no doubt: a young couple was going at it less than a meter from me, separated only by a thin wall. You could hear the wet splashing of a mouth sucking something down hungrily, the creak of the little bench every time she shifted position, his ragged breathing asking for more in a lower voice. Without thinking, I looked and found a crack between the boards. What I saw in those seconds was enough to make my body react without asking my head for permission: she on her knees, with her dress pulled down to her waist and her tits out, the guy’s cock going in and out between her painted lips, a thread of saliva hanging from her chin. He was holding her hair with both hands and fucking her mouth with zero tenderness. She let him, and on top of it all, she moaned.

I don’t remember deciding to do it. I pulled my pants down to my thighs and grabbed myself right there, with the swimsuit still in my other hand and my heart beating at a pace I didn’t recognize as my own. I was harder than ever before, throbbing against my palm. It was the first time anything like that had ever happened to me in a public place, and that made it ten times more intense. I closed my eyes. I jerked off slowly, squeezing the head every time the breathing on the other side got louder. I lost myself in the sound coming from the other cubicle: the wet noise of the blowjob, the “yeah, like that, take it all” that slipped from him through clenched teeth, the muffled grunt when he came and she swallowed without protest.

I was so focused I didn’t hear my mother calling from outside.

—Mateo, how does the swimsuit fit?

The door opened before I could react.

The silence that followed lasted maybe two seconds. To me it felt like ten minutes. There I was with my cock out, hard and dripping, and she stood in the doorway with her hand on the knob.

My mother looked at me. She processed the situation. Several things passed across her face very quickly: surprise first, then an attempt at embarrassment, and something harder to name at the end. Her eyes dropped to the cock I still had in my hand, and stayed there for a second too long. She remained in the doorway, neither coming in nor going out.

—Sorry —she said very quietly—. I didn’t know that...

—Ma, I...

—Shh.

She came into the cubicle and closed the door behind her without making a sound. I still couldn’t move, with my cock still hard and nowhere to hide it.

—Why are you like that? —she asked, still whispering, looking toward the crack.

I explained it to her in two sentences: the couple next door, what I had seen, the blowjob, what I couldn’t control. She said nothing. Slowly, she crouched down and looked through the gap. She stayed there for a moment that felt endless. I saw her press her thighs together without even realizing it. When she straightened up, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was a little faster than normal.

—This is really weird —she murmured, not taking her eyes off my cock.

—I know.

—But I understand —she added, still not looking me in the face.

There was another silence. Then she looked at me, this time directly, without looking away.

—You can’t go out like this —she said.

—I know, ma, but I can’t...

—Stay still.

She knelt down slowly. She did it with a calm that unsettled me more than anything else she could have done. She gently moved my hand away and took my cock between her fingers, weighing it, looking at it closely as if she were deciding where to start. Then she opened her mouth and took it all the way in, without hesitation, without questions, without any of the words I expected someone to say in a moment like that.

I felt her hot tongue curl under the head, the pressure of her lips closing over the shaft, the firm suction when she tilted her head back to breathe. She took me down to the base again, so deep I could feel her throat pushing against me. I bit down on the air not to moan. On the other side of the cubicle, the couple kept at it, and she — my own mother — sucked my cock on her knees with the same dedication, moving her head in a wet rhythm, helping with her hand at the base every time she pulled back for air. A thread of saliva hung from her chin. She lifted her eyes and looked at me without taking my cock out of her mouth, and that look finished breaking me.

What followed didn’t last long. I was too close to hold out. I squeezed her shoulder to warn her and she dug her nails into my thighs and sped up, sucking harder, her hand going up and down on the part her mouth didn’t cover. I came in her mouth in a jolt that almost buckled my knees. She didn’t pull away. She took everything, spurt after spurt, without letting go of me, and I felt her swallow twice in a row so not a single drop would be lost. When she finally came off me, she wiped the corner of her lip with her finger and brought it to her mouth, calm, as if nothing that had just happened were extraordinary.

—Now you can go out —she said, standing up.

She left the cubicle first. I stayed there a moment, the swimsuit still in my hand, trying to understand exactly what had just happened between us.

We bought the swimsuit. We drove home in the car. We didn’t talk about it.

***

The beach house was about ninety kilometers away. We rented it every summer since I was a kid, always the same one: four bedrooms, a terrace with a view of the sea, that smell of salt that got into your clothes from the very first moment you got out of the car.

There were four of us: my father Roberto, my mother Lorena, my sister Camila — who was twenty-one — and me.

On the first afternoon, after lunch, my father and my sister stayed behind to take a nap. My mother told me to come down to the beach with her. I put on the newly bought swimsuit and followed her along the wooden path that led to the sand.

She spread out the towel and started putting on sunscreen. She did it slowly, unhurried, in wide circles over her arms, her neckline, her legs. She ran her fingers over the roots of her tits as she smoothed it on calmly, knowing I was watching. I was watching without even trying to hide it completely.

—Will you give me a hand with my back? —she asked without turning around.

I went over. I put on the sunscreen and started spreading it. Her skin was hot from the midday sun. I could feel my fingers moving on their own, finding excuses to drift below the bikini strap, to brush the side of her breast, to linger longer near her ass.

—Why are you shaking? —she asked.

—I don’t know. I’m nervous.

—You don’t have to be.

I didn’t answer. I kept at it and tried not to think about the changing room, about her mouth, about how she had swallowed. I couldn’t do it. It was obvious through the swimsuit, and there was no way to hide it.

When I sat down beside her, she lifted her head a little and looked at me over her shoulder with a half smile that had nothing innocent about it. Her eyes went to the bulge and then back to me.

—Is there some couple peeping through a hole? —she asked.

—No.

—Then it’s something else.

I didn’t deny it. She didn’t expect me to. She lay back to sunbathe and didn’t bring it up again.

—Be patient —she said on her own, a while later, without opening her eyes—. Tonight.

***

That night I fell asleep late. I could hear my father snoring on the other side of the hallway and the constant sound of the sea through the half-open window. The phone clock showed almost three in the morning when I heard light footsteps approaching.

They stopped in front of my door.

—Are you awake? —my mother asked in a very low voice, almost soundless.

I turned toward the door and saw her: she was wearing a light cotton robe that fell to her knees, her hair loose, and she smelled of something floral that settled into the room at once.

—Yeah —I said.

She came in. She closed the door carefully, without letting the latch make any noise.

—It’s reward time —she said, and sat on the edge of my bed.

What followed was different from the changing room. Slower. More deliberate. We started kissing in the dark and her tongue found mine with the calm of a woman who knows perfectly well what she wants. I opened her robe carefully, as if I were afraid of breaking something, and discovered she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Nothing at all. Naked skin, heavy tits falling to either side, the smell of soap mixed with the floral perfume that was already driving me crazy.

I ran my mouth over her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her breast. I caught one nipple between my lips and she arched her back without making a sound, digging her fingers into my hair. I sucked it slowly, tugging with my teeth, circling it with my tongue until it went hard as a stone. Then the other one. She guided me with her hands without speaking, with a certainty that disarmed me.

I laid her on the bed. I opened her legs and got between them, kissing her stomach, moving down along the line of her navel. I explored her body slowly, letting myself be led by what she answered without words: the tension in her muscles, the pressure of her fingers in my hair, the rhythm of her breathing. When I reached her lower belly, her hand closed over my head.

—Here —she murmured—. Eat me out.

I obeyed. I parted the lips of her cunt with my thumbs and ran my tongue over her whole pussy, bottom to top, tasting her for the first time. She was soaking wet, hot, with a female taste that shot straight to my head. I sucked her clit with my lips, rubbed it with the tip of my tongue, licked it in circles until she started lifting her hips against my mouth. I slid two fingers inside her and curled them upward while I kept sucking her clit. She held back her moans by covering her mouth with the back of her hand, biting her knuckles until she left marks. We both knew my father and sister were sleeping on the other side of the hallway. That forced silence made everything tenser, more loaded. She kept pushing her cunt against my face, unable to help herself, her thighs squeezing my ears.

—Put it in —she finally said, in a hoarse voice I didn’t recognize as hers—. Put it in now. I want to feel you inside me.

She took my hand and made me climb up. She grabbed my cock and guided it herself between the lips of her pussy, rubbing the head against her clit before letting me enter. I found the angle. I went in slowly and she gave a silent jolt, biting her lip hard. I felt her close around me, hot and tight, squeezing me centimeter by centimeter. We looked at each other in the dark.

I started fucking her with slow, long thrusts, feeling how she swallowed me whole every time. She dug her heels into my ass so I’d never quite pull all the way out. We moved in silence, pressing our mouths together every time one of us lost control, drowning our moans in each other’s tongues. I put her legs over my shoulders and pushed in deeper. A sharp gasp slipped out of her and I cut it off with a kiss. I rolled her onto her side and kept penetrating her from behind, with my hand in front of her searching for her clit while I did it. She moved against me, pushing her ass back, looking for more, always more.

It was intense in a way I can’t really explain. It wasn’t just the body. It was the weight of what we were crossing, the awareness that there was a line and we were both stepping on it together, deliberately. Fucking my own mother in the house where my father was sleeping. Feeling her come against my hand, holding back the scream with her teeth sunk into the pillow. I felt her tightening around me in spasms that almost made me finish right then and there.

When I warned her I was about to come, she pushed me away, shoved me against the backrest, and knelt again. She took me with her hand and mouth at the same time, shaking me fast, sucking the tip every two or three strokes. She did it until the end, looking me in the eyes without looking away, and took everything without flinching. The first spurt hit her tongue, the second her lips, and she kept sucking until she drew out the last drop. She swallowed and cleaned me with her tongue, slowly, as if she regretted if anything of mine were wasted.

—Our secret —she said afterward, while putting her robe back on.

She kissed me slowly, almost tenderly, and I tasted myself in her mouth. She left the room without looking back and her footsteps disappeared down the hallway without making a sound.

I stayed in the dark listening to the sea, unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The days went on with their normal routine. Family meals, afternoons on the beach, nights on the terrace watching the horizon. As if nothing had happened. Or almost as if nothing had happened.

It was my father who, without knowing it, set everything in motion once again.

—Lorena, why don’t you go with Mateo to the supermarket? I’ll finish checking the hot-water system.

—Sure —she said—. We can take the chance to walk around town a bit.

She took the car keys and winked at me once my father was no longer looking.

We’d been on the road for ten minutes when her hand landed on my thigh. No warning. No preamble. I started slowing down instinctively. She didn’t say anything, just kept sliding her hand up little by little until she squeezed my cock over my pants. She was getting me hard without saying a word.

—I won’t be able to drive properly like this —I said.

—Just keep the car straight. There’s no one on this road.

She was right. It was a side road, almost deserted at that hour. Even so, my heart was pounding.

She lowered the zipper slowly. She pulled my cock out of my underwear and stared at it for a second, weighing it with her hand, running her thumb over the head as if checking something. Then she leaned over the seat and took it into her mouth all the way in one motion. I almost swerved off the lane.

What followed was her mouth, and everything else disappeared. There was only the asphalt, the white line down the middle of the road, and the sensation of her tongue moving with a skill I could barely process while I tried to keep my eyes fixed ahead. She sucked me with firm suction, bobbing her head up and down, letting saliva run down her chin and soak my shaft. Every few seconds she pulled back to lick my balls, to flatten her tongue along the whole length of me, to sink back down to the base with a muffled moan I could feel vibrating against my flesh.

—Keep going, goddammit, don’t stop —I muttered, gripping the wheel until my knuckles went white.

She settled in better, planted one hand on my thigh for leverage, and sped up, sucking me with real hunger now, with that filthy wet sound the mouth made every time she pulled off. I warned her when I couldn’t take it anymore. She went even faster, pressing her lips around the crown. I hit the edge with a sound I tried to turn into silence and only half failed. The car came to a stop on the side of the road as I emptied into her mouth. I could feel her keep sucking me even as I came, swallowing every spurt, milking me with her hand until the last drop.

She sat up and looked at me with traces of me on her lower lip. She wiped them away with her finger and brought it to her mouth without breaking eye contact.

—Getting tastier every time —she said.

We went on to the supermarket. We did the shopping normally, picked fruit, argued over which wine to take, loaded the bags into the trunk. On the way back, the conversation was banal: what to have for dinner, whether it would rain, whether my sister wanted to go diving the next day.

But halfway home she unzipped her pants and slid her hand between her legs without any shame. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her rubbing her clit in circles with two fingers, biting her lip and spreading her knees as far as the seat would allow.

—Don’t look if you don’t want us to crash —she said, her voice already thick.

I looked anyway, every so often. I saw her slide her fingers into her cunt, saw them come out shining and go back to her clit, saw her start arching her back against the seat. What I saw was enough to make me react too. I pulled off onto a dirt track between two sunflower fields.

—Here —I said.

No more was needed.

She pulled down her pants and underwear all at once and climbed on top of me in the driver’s seat. The space was ridiculous and neither of us cared. She pulled out my cock in a hurry and sat down on it in one stroke, impaling herself all the way with a guttural moan she no longer bothered to hold back. I grabbed her hips and we found the rhythm together, going up and down in a rocking motion that made the seat creak and knocked our elbows against the steering wheel every time we shifted position.

—Break me —she whispered in my ear, gripping the headrest for leverage—. Fuck me hard, Mateo, since we’re alone.

I grabbed her ass with both hands and helped her move faster, thrusting upward every time she came down. I bit one nipple through the shirt she’d pulled up. She dug her nails into the back of my neck, pushing her cunt against my cock with all the force her thighs gave her. We let out a few stifled laughs before going back to silence, to fucking for real, with that urgency of two animals meeting at a dirt crossroads. Outside, the field unmoving. The sun dropping over the sunflowers. The silence of the afternoon broken only by the wet sound of two bodies going in and out.

When she reached her own climax, she clung to my shoulders and buried her face in my neck, biting my skin so she wouldn’t scream. I felt her tightening around me in long contractions, soaking me completely. I heard her without hearing her, my whole body poured into that instant. Then I came too, and this time I came inside her, without pulling out, holding her hard as I emptied everything I had left into her deepest core. We stayed still for a moment, tangled in the seat, not speaking, while I felt it slowly dripping down from the base of me.

We composed ourselves in silence. She fixed her clothes as best she could, taking tissues from the glove compartment to wipe her thighs. I started the car.

—No one needs to know anything —she said, looking out the window as we got back on the road.

—I know, ma.

She nodded. She didn’t say anything else.

We got home with the groceries and without any excuse to give, because no one asked for one. My father was closing the water shutoff valve. My sister was asleep in the hammock on the terrace with a book open on her chest.

The summer ended the way it had begun: as a family, with the perfect normality of always sitting over everything.

But I know what happened in that changing room. And in that bed with the sea in the background. And on that dirt track between the sunflowers.

And I know she remembers it too.