What We Shouldn’t Have Done With My Sister in Cancún

Valeria was 26 years old and had been living with me and our parents ever since she finished college. I had just turned 23. For years, living together was like any pair of siblings: fights over the bathroom, over the noise, over who had finished the morning bread. I never looked at her any other way. That changed in Cancún, and it changed in a way I still don’t quite know how to name.

There were four of us: her, me, and two male cousins. The hotel was in the hotel zone, one of those white blocks facing the sea that smell of sunscreen and chlorinated pool water. Since the number of rooms was odd, Valeria and I had to share one. Nobody questioned it. It made the most sense.

The first day we arrived at noon. Valeria was wearing very short shorts and a tight sleeveless tank top. While she opened her suitcase looking for her creams, I found myself staring at her without meaning to at first. But my eyes kept settling on her hips as she bent over, on the curve of her back, on the way she tied her hair up with a band. Something shifted inside me that shouldn’t have shifted.

We agreed to meet my cousins at the pool. Valeria went into the bathroom to put on her swimsuit and closed the door without turning the lock all the way. The bathroom mirror faced the entrance. From where I was, I could see her reflected. I told myself the right thing was to look away. I didn’t.

She took off her top. Then her bra. Her tits were bare for a moment before she got her arm into the swimsuit: round, fuller than her clothes let on, with dark nipples stiffened by the air conditioning. Then she yanked off her shorts and thong in one motion. I saw her naked ass first, broad, white where the sun hadn’t touched it, and when she turned a little to look for something in the toiletry bag I saw her cunt too, with the pubic hair trimmed into a narrow strip. She stood there for a few seconds, searching among her creams, not knowing I was watching her from the other room through the mirror and that my cock was hard in my swim trunks.

I stepped out into the hallway before she finished changing. I leaned against the wall, heart racing. I had an erection I hadn’t asked for and didn’t know what to do with, so I waited for it to go down and then went down to the pool.

In the water I couldn’t stop watching her. She swam, talked to my cousins, leaned back to wet her hair. The swimsuit clung to her cunt and marked the line of her ass every time she came out of the water. I felt uncomfortable with myself, but I couldn’t find a way to shut off what had been switched on.

At night we went to a club on the main avenue. Valeria was wearing a black skirt that came to mid-thigh and a blouse with a modest neckline, but enough for me not to be able to stop looking at her tits every time she leaned over the table. My cousins danced with her for a while. I stayed at the table with a drink, watching her from afar and telling myself I had to stop.

At midnight a guy showed up. Tall, dark, well dressed. He came over with the easy confidence of someone who rarely gets a no. They danced together for almost an hour. Then I saw them head toward the back of the place. I followed them with my eyes. He kissed her against the wall, one hand on her waist, the other slipping under her skirt to grab one of her ass cheeks without any shame. She didn’t push him away. On the contrary, she spread her legs a little wider and I saw the man’s hand moving between her thighs as if he were already touching her cunt over her thong.

I went back to my chair and didn’t say a word for the rest of the night.

At dawn we returned to the hotel without Valeria. She came back almost at sunrise, a little drunk but aware. I asked her where she had been. She told me she had met someone.

—Are you going to see him again?

—Don’t be stupid. It was just a club night, nothing more.

I got into bed. I lay awake listening to her breathing slow down as she fell asleep. I thought about the bathroom mirror, about her tits out, about the guy at the club slipping his hand under her skirt. I pulled my cock out from under the sheet and started jerking off in silence, slowly, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound. I imagined the guy fucking her against the wall in the bathroom of that club, her skirt hitched up to her waist, her thong pushed aside, his cock going into her from behind while she held onto the sink. I came on my own hand and wiped myself on the sheet. It took me a long time to fall asleep.

***

The second day was all beach and very few words. My cousins wanted to go out at night again. Valeria said she was tired and would rather stay in. I said I’d stay too.

I stopped by the corner supermarket and bought a bottle of cheap vodka. When I came back into the room, she was sitting on the bed with the TV on, in her underwear and a long camisole with straps. When she saw me, she covered herself with the sheet for a moment, but I acted like I hadn’t noticed anything.

—Want a drink? —I offered, lifting the bottle.

She hesitated. Then she said yes.

We put music on from the phone. Some tropical salsa that she chose because I don’t know genres. We filled two glasses with vodka and mango juice from the minibar fridge. We talked about normal things at first: my cousins, the beach, what we’d do the next day. The second drink relaxed both of us.

I asked her about the guy from the club.

—I don’t want to talk about that —she said.

—Why not?

—Because I don’t.

I kept pressing. I don’t know exactly why, but I did. She gave in to the words little by little. She told me they had gone to his hotel, that they’d spent a while there, that it wasn’t anything memorable but it wasn’t a mistake either. While she talked, at some point without my remembering exactly when, we had stood up and she was trying to teach me the basic salsa step.

I did it wrong on purpose so I’d have to get closer.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind when I “messed up” too much. My hands on her waist. She kept moving and kept talking.

—Where did he finish? —I asked softly, close to her ear.

She broke off for a second.

—That I’m definitely not telling you.

—Did he fuck you? —I insisted, rougher now.

She let out a nervous laugh and didn’t answer, but she leaned a little more into me. I felt her ass pressed against my hard cock over my pants and I didn’t move.

—Tell me.

—Yes —she whispered at last—. He fucked me.

My right hand slid slowly down her stomach to her hip. She didn’t stop me. My left hand went up to her tit over the camisole and I squeezed her nipple between two fingers. A short gasp escaped her. I slipped my hand under the camisole, grabbed her tit bare-handed against the skin, and pinched her nipple. It was hard as a rock. My other hand went down inside her thong, between her thighs. The fabric was soaked, and when I ran my fingers over her cunt she spread her legs a little without stopping her movements to the music.

—You’re wet —I said in her ear.

—Shut up.

I slid one finger inside. Then two. She grabbed my forearm and threw her head back, resting it on my shoulder. I finger-fucked her cunt slowly, feeling her tighten around me inside, while my other hand kept squeezing her tits.

We stopped dancing.

I led her toward one of the beds. She let herself be taken without saying anything. I lifted the camisole over her tits and left it bunched around her neck. I yanked the thong off her hips and threw it to the floor. I spread her legs and stared at her cunt for a second before lowering my head. It was pink, shiny, with the clit swollen and peeking out between the lips.

I buried my tongue in her without preamble. I ran it up and down, slow, soaking everything, and then I focused on the clit. I sucked it with my whole mouth, licked it in circles, nibbled it carefully between my teeth. She arched her back and pressed my head with both hands, tugging my hair. Her hips moved on their own against my face. I slipped two fingers into her cunt while I kept sucking her clit and she started moaning with her mouth closed, squeezing her thighs against my ears.

—Oh, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.

I didn’t stop. I slipped in a third finger and searched for that spot inside, the one that swells when a woman is about to come. I found it. I rubbed it with my fingertip while I kept eating her out. It took less than a minute. She came with a muffled moan, as if she didn’t want to make too much noise, gripping my head between her legs and shaking all over. I felt her cunt throb around my fingers.

When I let go, my face was soaked. She laughed without fully opening her eyes.

—Son of a bitch —she said softly—. How do you do that?

Then she told me she had known. That she had seen my reflection in the bathroom mirror on the first day. That she had noticed how I watched her at the pool, how I walked behind her in the street just to look at her from behind.

—And why didn’t you say anything? —I asked.

She didn’t answer. She kissed me. It was her who kissed me first, not caring that my mouth was full of her taste. She sucked on my tongue, bit my lip, slid her hand inside my pants and pulled my cock out into the open.

—Oh, little brother —she whispered, looking at it—. You’ve had this for me for days, haven’t you?

She bent down without waiting for an answer. She took it in her mouth all the way to the back, so deep I felt it hit her throat. She pulled it out, spat on it, took it back in. She sucked me slowly, looking up at me from below, her tongue circling my head and one hand jerking me at the base. She sucked my balls too, one by one, and went back to my cock. When I felt I was about to come, I grabbed her head to pull her off.

—No —I said—. I want to fuck you.

She got onto the bed on all fours. I grabbed her hips, spread her ass cheeks with my thumbs, and looked at her ass and exposed cunt for a moment. Then I lined myself up and shoved my cock in with one thrust. She let out a long moan and buried her face in the pillow.

—Bastard. Bastard, that feels so good.

I started fucking her slowly, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in deep. She pushed her ass back to take it deeper. I grabbed her hair, wrapped it around my hand, and pulled her head back while I kept fucking her. I slapped her ass. She protested, but on the next hip movement she asked for another.

—Another. Harder.

I gave her two, three, four. Her ass turned red. I fucked her faster, listening to the sound of my balls slapping against her wet cunt. We changed positions: I put her on her back, lifted her legs, and rested them on my shoulders. From there I went in all the way, to the hilt, and she looked at me with her mouth open, eyes glassy, tits bouncing with every thrust.

—Like that, like that, like that —she repeated—. Don’t stop. I’m going to come again.

She climbed on top. She looked at me while she moved, bracing herself with her hands on my chest, rising and falling on my cock with a calm that surprised me. She told me “more” without any drama, like someone who knows exactly what they want. She sped up. I grabbed her tits and squeezed hard, pinched her nipples, lifted her hips from below with both hands to fuck her deeper. She came a second time on top of me, biting her fist to keep from screaming, and I came inside her almost at the same time, emptying everything into her, feeling her cunt suck out every drop.

When we were done we stayed quiet for a moment, her still on top, my cock inside her losing its hardness little by little. Then she got down, covered herself with the sheet, and said:

—This can’t happen again.

—I know.

—Seriously. It can’t.

—Okay.

I was lying. I think she was too.

***

The third day dawned cloudy. Valeria got up first, showered, and went down to breakfast without waking me. When I came down, she was sitting with my cousins, drinking coffee and talking about plans for the last day. She looked at me and greeted me like always. She almost pulled it off.

At noon, when my cousins went to the pool, Valeria and I sat on the edge of the sea. The waves came up to our ankles and withdrew cold.

—It was the alcohol —she said without looking at me.

—Partly.

—Only partly no. It was the alcohol and nothing else.

I listened to her speak. She told me we were siblings, that we lived in the same house, that if anything got complicated there would be no way to fix it. She was right about everything. I nodded.

The water kept coming in and pulling back. After a long silence I asked her what sex was usually like for her with other people. She looked at me suspiciously but answered. She told me she liked dirty talk, liked having her hair pulled, liked being used a little. She told me she had once tried it in the ass and liked it more than she expected. I listened and watched the line of her swimsuit on her thigh, the water wetting her feet. At one point I put my hand on her tit over the swimsuit for a second and she moved it away, but not angrily.

I suggested spending the last afternoon in the room. I told her that if afterward she said no, I would respect it without argument.

She took a while to answer. She was looking at the horizon.

—One more time —she said at last—. And that’s it.

I texted my cousins saying Valeria had a headache and we’d rest for a while. They replied that no problem, they’d see us at dinner.

In the room, Valeria was coming out of the shower when I walked in. She stood there holding the towel for a moment and then took it off herself. This time without alcohol, without darkness, without excuses. A different calm between us. I looked at her whole, naked in the full light of afternoon: her tits still dotted with water, her flat stomach, her shaved cunt in that narrow strip, her firm thighs.

She came over and undressed me herself. She took off my T-shirt, pulled down my pants, grabbed my cock in her hand, and squeezed it without taking her eyes off me.

—Already hard —she said—. I didn’t even touch you.

—I’ve been thinking about this all morning.

She knelt down and sucked my cock again, this time unhurriedly. She took it all in, with her tongue, with her lips, with her throat when she could. She pulled it out with a thread of saliva hanging from her chin and looked up at me, my cock bumping against her cheek.

—Lie me down —she said.

I took her to the bed. We started slowly. I spread her legs and went down on her again, paying attention to every reaction. I ate her out for a long time, alternating my tongue on her clit with my fingers in her cunt, and when I felt her getting close I slipped one finger into her ass too. She let out a deeper moan than the previous ones and pushed it in herself with a movement of her hips.

—Like that —she whispered—. Like that, keep going.

She came with my tongue on her clit and my two fingers, one in each hole, moving at the same time. After that I fucked her. I put it in her front first, on top of her, face to face, kissing her while I fucked her. We changed positions several times and in each one she set the pace and intensity: on her side, with one leg over my hip; on all fours, offering me her ass; sitting on top, riding me slowly with her hands on my neck.

—I want you to come in my mouth —she said at one point.

—Are you sure?

—Yes. I want to taste you.

She knelt on the floor and I stood in front of her. She sucked my cock with both hands at the base, moving her head fast, looking at me. I warned her when I was about to come and she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue without stopping her pulling motion. I came in spurts into her mouth, over her tongue, some on her lips. She swallowed everything with a concentration that left me speechless, and then she licked the tip to get the last drops out of me.

We flopped onto the bed to catch our breath. I stroked her tits, her thighs, her hair. Her eyes were closed and she had a half smile.

After a rest she turned over and asked me if I wanted to try something else. When she explained what she meant, I agreed carefully. She got on all fours again, face on the pillow and ass lifted. She grabbed a jar of cream from the nightstand and handed it to me.

—With this. And slow at first.

I smeared a lot of cream on her ass and put one finger in first. Then two. She breathed deeply, loosening up. When she felt ready, she asked for it.

—Now. Put it in.

I coated my cock in cream and rested it at her hole. I pushed in very slowly, paying attention to what she indicated. She let me in little by little. When I had it all the way in, I stayed still for a moment, feeling her ass clamping down on me like a hot press.

—Move —she whispered—. Slowly.

I started moving. In and out, in and out, without pulling all the way out. She moaned softly against the pillow and with one hand she touched her cunt while I fucked her from behind. I picked up speed as she asked for it. In the end I was fucking her ass pretty hard, my hands on her hips, and she was rubbing herself so fast I could see her arm trembling.

She came again, her ass spasming around my cock, and I finished inside seconds later, emptying everything I had left into her. She breathed deeply, shoulders relaxed, as if she had let out something she’d been carrying for a long time.

When it was all over, she went into the bathroom. I stayed staring at the ceiling fan until she came out.

—Done —she said, like closing a door—. Now it really is.

That night the four of us had dinner together at a restaurant facing the sea. She was calm, almost cheerful. She laughed with my cousins, ordered dessert, talked about unimportant things. Nobody noticed anything. We toasted to the last day of vacation and walked back to the hotel.

***

Back home, life returned to its usual rhythm. Valeria to work, me to university. The same old arguments, the bathroom occupied, the bread gone. Everything looked the same.

But there was something new neither of us named. When she crossed the hallway at night, I knew it without seeing her. When I came out of the bathroom in the morning, she looked away a half-second longer than before. A permanent awareness of the other that hadn’t existed before that trip, that hadn’t existed before Cancún.

We never talked about what happened again. We never repeated it. She was right that it couldn’t be repeated, and somehow we both accepted that without needing to say it to each other.

But there are nights when I remember the hotel bathroom mirror, her reflection without her knowing I was watching. And I wonder whether she remembers it too when she passes in front of a mirror.