When My Mother Opened That Door, We Couldn't Stop

On December 24, I found myself shoveling snow in front of the cabin, just as I had the three previous days. We had been trapped in the Pyrenees for a week by a storm no one had predicted. What was supposed to be a long weekend had turned into a freezing white prison. My sisters Sofía and Laura had decided, without consulting me, that I was responsible for keeping the entrance clear. No one had asked me. That was how things always worked in this family.

—You have to be good for something, brother —Sofía said, poking her head through the door, a cup of coffee in her hand that, she immediately clarified, was only for her.

She said it just as Carla and her daughters came outside to look at the sky. All three of them were blonde. Carla owned the cabins: German, in her forties, tall, with the composure of someone who had spent her whole life accustomed to having everything under control. Her daughters, Nora and Claudia, giggled when they heard Sofía's remark. My ears grew hot.

—Rodrigo, don't pile all the snow in the same corner —Carla said from the doorway, in that maternal yet condescending tone I had already memorized—. If you make one pile too big, it'll collapse on its own. That would be the same as not clearing it at all.

I answered with a grunt. For days I had been sick of her talking to me as if I were her second son.

The whole week had had a strange flavor: discomfort mixed with something I couldn't name. My mother Verónica and Carla had become inseparable from the first day. They went out together for short walks through the snow, cooked together, and every morning they got up with the smile of people who had slept very well and done something else before doing so. Carla's daughters got along with my sisters. I was the only one who didn't belong.

There was one night, however, that changed something.

It was past midnight. I got up from the sofa—where I had been sleeping since Verónica had given her bed to Carla without asking my opinion—and went downstairs to get some water. The kitchen was dark except for the light beneath the stove hood, which cast only a yellow rectangle across the counter.

Carla was standing beside the sink. She was wearing nothing but a loose gray T-shirt that reached barely below her thighs. The cold outlined her nipples beneath the fabric: two hard points stretching the thin cotton, while the yellowish light from the hood traced the contours of her heavy breasts, unsupported by anything. When she turned and saw me, the expression on her face changed. It wasn't exactly surprise. It was something more like appraisal. Her eyes traveled over me from head to toe and paused for half a second on the bulge showing through my pajama pants.

I remained motionless in the doorway.

—I came to get some water —I said.

—So did I —she replied, her voice slightly hoarse.

She took the bottle from the counter and drank slowly without taking her eyes off me. A trickle of water ran down her chin and wet her neck before disappearing between her breasts. She did nothing to dry it. Then she turned and started up the stairs. When she reached the landing, her shirt lifted. It wasn't an accident: it lasted exactly long enough for me to see everything. Her round, white ass, split in two by a shadow of blond hair, and between her thighs, her naked pussy, shaved and swollen around the edges. Then she turned, took another long sip while looking down at me, and continued upstairs without saying a word.

I returned to the sofa with the untouched glass of water. I stared at the dark ceiling for a long while, my cock hard and straining against my pants. I pulled it out silently beneath the blanket and jerked off while thinking about that image, that pussy open in silhouette, her nipples showing through her shirt. I came quickly and abundantly, biting my lip to keep quiet, and even then I stayed hard for a while longer.

***

I finished clearing the snow in the middle of the morning. I went into the cabin, poured myself the hot chocolate Claudia had made—it was surprisingly good, with spices—and ate breakfast alone because everyone else had already finished. I realized that in recent days I had been the one helping most around the house, but no one seemed to notice.

Carla and my mother planned that night's dinner while they washed the dishes. Roast turkey, cider, spiced bread. Verónica suggested a toast at midnight, South American style. Carla said she loved the idea. The two of them laughed at something I didn't hear. Every time I saw them together, that unnamable thing tightened in my chest.

When I finished helping with the dishes, I went upstairs. I wanted to read for a while in peace. My mother's room was empty during the day.

It wasn't empty.

Carla was reclining against the pillows, completely naked. Her legs were spread wide, feet planted on the mattress, knees fallen to either side. Two fingers were buried in her pussy, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sliding in and out with a wet, shiny sound that filled the entire room. Her other hand was lost between her breasts, pinching one hard nipple between her index finger and thumb. When she saw me, she didn't remove her fingers. She only opened her eyes a little wider and stared at me, with a calm that wasn't natural. She added another finger to her pussy, now three, and buried them to the knuckles without stopping looking at me.

I stopped in the doorway without closing the door.

—You don't knock before coming in —she said, her voice firmer than it came out.

—It's my mother's room. —I closed the door behind me—. When it was mine, you didn't knock either.

Her fingers stopped, but she didn't take them out. She left them there, inside her, while she spoke to me.

—The other night in the kitchen —I said, approaching slowly—. That wasn't accidental, was it?

—I don't know what you're talking about.

—The shirt. The turn on the stairs. You knew I was watching. That I was looking at your ass and your pussy.

Silence. A faint pink began to color her cheeks. Her fingers started moving again, very slowly, as if her body were making a decision her mind was still debating. She pulled her fingers out, shiny and strung with juices, and brought them to her mouth. She sucked them one by one without looking away from me.

—Maybe I needed it —she said at last—. It had been a long time since a man looked at me like that. Since anyone fucked me properly.

I sat at the foot of the bed and looked directly at her. I looked at her heavy breasts, her hard pink nipples, her open, soaked pussy between her white thighs. She was completely shaved, and her slit was cleanly parted, swollen, with her clitoris peeking out between her lips.

—You can keep going.

Something changed in her expression. Shame was no longer what remained in her eyes.

—You look like you think you've already won with that —she murmured. But she spread her legs farther and plunged her fingers back into her pussy to the hilt, and this time she didn't stop. She began rubbing her clitoris with her thumb at the same time, in slow circles, and a deep moan escaped her.

—I haven't won anything yet.

—I'm twice your age —she said, in a voice that meant to sound like a warning.

—I know.

—And I'm used to being in control of everything.

—That much is obvious. —I leaned forward and placed one hand on either side of her hips—. Do you always do it alone?

She bit her lip. Her hips rose slightly, an involuntary movement that revealed more than any words could have.

—Since your family arrived, yes. Every night. Thinking about you.

—That can be fixed.

I gently moved her hand away from her pussy, crouched between her legs, and pushed my tongue deep inside her. Her taste burst across my mouth: salty, thick, with a sweet undertone. Carla let out a long, high-pitched cry and bit the back of her hand to silence it. I sucked her clitoris with my lips, pushed my tongue inside her, and rubbed my whole face against her pussy until I was soaked. She grabbed my hair and pulled me against her pubis without holding back.

—Harder —she gasped—. Suck me harder. Yes. Like that.

I slid two fingers inside her while continuing to suck her clitoris, curling them upward and searching for the spot. I found it by the way her whole body tensed. Her hips lifted off the bed and a high cry escaped her, muffled against the pillow. She came into my mouth, squeezing my head between her thighs and releasing a hot gush that ran down my chin. I kept licking her until she pushed my forehead away, laughing under her breath.

—Enough, enough —she gasped—. Come here. Come up here.

I knelt on the mattress and pulled down my pants. My cock sprang out, hard and swollen, its tip glistening. Carla propped herself up on her elbows and looked at it for a second before pulling me closer by the thigh. She swallowed it whole in one motion. I felt it strike the back of her throat and heard her moan around the head, her eyes fixed on mine. She sucked me slowly at first, letting me watch it slide in and out of her mouth, then faster, gripping my balls with one hand and squeezing my shaft with the other. Saliva ran down her chin and soaked my testicles.

—Slower —I told her, grabbing her hair—. I don't want to come yet.

She pulled my cock from her mouth with an obscene sound and licked her lips.

—Then put it in me already. It's been months since I've had a cock inside me.

She lay on her back and opened her legs. I positioned myself, rested the tip against her pussy, and thrust inside in one stroke. Carla arched her back and clenched her teeth to muffle the sound. The bed creaked twice. We both froze, listening. Nothing. We continued.

I took her wrists and held them against the pillow. She pushed to free herself, not because she wanted me to stop, but to see whether I would give in. I didn't. A brief smile crossed her mouth.

—Interesting —she murmured—. I like it. Fuck me like that. Hard.

I fucked her hard and steadily. My cock plunged in and out of her pussy to the balls, and I heard her pussy squelch with the juices she released at every thrust. Her heavy breasts bounced with every movement of my hips. Carla bit the pillow to keep quiet. Once she let out a moan that we both pretended not to hear. I pinched both her nipples hard at the same time, and she closed her eyes and breathed slowly, like someone drawing breath before diving under. I repeated the motion, twisting them this time. Carla didn't close her eyes; she stared at me defiantly, as if assessing how much longer she could endure without surrendering completely.

—Turn around —I told her.

She obeyed without a word. She got on all fours, ass raised, her pussy red, open, and dripping onto the sheet. I gripped her hips with both hands and pushed back inside her from behind, all the way in. Carla let out a deep, guttural moan and began thrusting her ass against me, setting the rhythm herself now. I gave one cheek a sharp slap. A red mark appeared.

—Again —she gasped.

I slapped her again. And again. Her ass grew red to match her pussy. I grabbed her hair, wound it around my fist, and pulled backward. She arched her neck and opened her mouth, letting out a whimper she couldn't quite suppress.

That was how we were when the door opened.

Carla went rigid instantly. Her eyes opened wide. My cock was still inside her.

My mother stood in the doorway. Verónica. Her arms were crossed, and she wore an expression I knew far too well: it wasn't surprise. It was the quiet satisfaction of someone who had been right from the beginning.

—I knew this was going to happen —she said, closing the door behind her and turning the lock.

—Verónica… —Carla began, her voice trembling—. I swear I didn't mean to disrespect you, it's just…

—Don't apologize. —My mother began removing her clothes with the calm that always bewildered me. She pulled her sweater over her head, undid her bra, and let her heavy, still-firm breasts fall free, their nipples dark and long. She pulled down her pants and panties in one movement—. What bothers me is that you keep me waiting while you give him everything. You've had me wanting you for days too, Carla.

Carla looked at her as if she couldn't process what she was seeing. My naked mother walking toward the bed. The dark triangle of trimmed hair between her thighs. Verónica climbed onto the mattress with an agility that made me look away for a second. She sat behind Carla and slowly ran her hands along her sides, as if measuring the terrain. She cupped Carla's breasts from behind and squeezed them.

—What…? —Carla began.

—Shhh. —My mother brushed Carla's hair away from her neck and slowly ran her tongue over her skin, leaving a wet trail. Carla shuddered from head to toe. I felt her pussy tighten around my cock—. Keep doing what you were doing. You fuck her. I'll take care of the rest.

I didn't know what surprised me more: Carla's reaction, as she let herself be carried along without resistance, or my own, as I continued exactly as if everything were the most natural thing in the world. Carla's hips resumed their rhythm, slower this time. My mother wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind, setting the pace, and lowered one hand to Carla's pussy. She found her clitoris and began rubbing it with two fingers while I thrust in and out of her.

—Do you like it? —Verónica asked in her ear.

—Yes —Carla answered, her voice barely recognizable to me—. Yes. Very much.

—How long has it been since someone took good care of you?

—A long time. Too long. Please don't stop.

My mother turned Carla's face and kissed her on the mouth. Carla responded without hesitation, opening her lips to let her tongue in, her hands clutching my shoulders and her eyes closed. Something in that kiss changed the rhythm of the entire room: it was no longer urgency but something else, slower and more intense. Verónica bit her lower lip and lowered her mouth to Carla's neck, then to her breasts. She sucked one nipple slowly, licked it, nibbled it, and released it with a wet kiss. Carla let out a long moan.

The two women became tangled in an embrace that left me out for a moment. Verónica ran her hands over Carla's body with the familiarity that only years could provide; Carla closed her eyes and let herself be handled. My mother lay back with her legs spread and gestured to Carla.

—Come here. Sit down here.

Carla straddled my mother's face, looking at me. Verónica grabbed her ass with both hands, pulled her down, and buried her tongue in her pussy. Carla let out a scream that she muffled too late, biting her hand. I felt her thighs tense. I was still behind her, my cock hard, watching my mother eat the pussy I had been fucking a minute earlier.

—You too —Verónica said, pulling her mouth away from Carla's pussy for a second—. Put it in Carla's mouth. Make her suck you while I eat her.

I obeyed. I knelt in front of Carla and brought my cock to her lips. She opened her mouth without thinking and swallowed it to the back of her throat. I felt her gag a little, then adjust, then suck with a hunger that wasn't feigned. I held her head with both hands and began fucking her mouth slowly, looking down and watching my mother's tongue appear between Carla's thighs, licking her clitoris.

At some point the three of us rearranged ourselves without anyone saying anything, as if the situation had its own logic. Carla lowered her head and began eating my mother's pussy, returning the attention. I knelt behind Carla again and pushed my cock inside her, at a different angle now. Beneath her, my mother looked into my eyes while Carla sucked her clitoris. With my free hand I grabbed one of Verónica's breasts and pinched her nipple. My mother arched her back and smiled.

—Do it right, son —she murmured—. Make Carla come. Let the whole house hear her.

That was when Carla began to speak. I don't know whether my mother's body beneath her made her feel safe, or whether she no longer cared about keeping anything hidden. She lifted her mouth from Verónica's pussy and, without stopping thrusting her ass against my cock, began.

—Strange things happen in this village in winter —she murmured between ragged breaths—. We're very isolated for most of the year. When it gets cold, people shut themselves away… and sometimes things happen that shouldn't.

—Such as? —Verónica asked, without stopping her movements, rubbing her own clitoris beneath Carla's mouth.

—One night, two winters ago, I spied on my neighbor through the window. She's my age and has a son Rodrigo's age. I always thought there was something strange between those two. One night I looked out and saw them.

—What were they doing?

—They were fucking. She was on top of him, on the living-room sofa, her breasts bare, riding him like a lunatic. She was sucking his tongue while moving on top of him. I froze with my face pressed to the glass. I'd never seen anything like it. I didn't understand why it turned me on so much… maybe it was the isolation, maybe the lack of cock. But it fascinated me. I put my hand inside my panties right there at the window and came while watching them.

—Is that why you wanted to get close to Rodrigo? —my mother asked, her voice containing not a single note of reproach.

—Something like that —Carla confessed. Her hips moved harder, pushing against my cock—. Although I didn't expect it to happen like this, with you in the middle. Eating my pussy while your son fucks me.

—And does that bother you? —Verónica asked, running her tongue along Carla's thigh.

There was a long pause. Carla opened her eyes and looked directly at me over her shoulder.

—Not at all. I love it. I want more.

What followed involved few more words. My mother sat up, took Carla's face in her hands, and kissed her deeply, letting her taste her own flavor mixed with theirs. Then she gestured to me. I lay on my back. Carla climbed on top of me and sat down on my cock in a single motion, taking it all the way in with a deep moan. She began moving up and down, her breasts bouncing in front of me. My mother settled behind Carla, reached around her front, and grabbed her breasts, cupping them and offering them to my mouth. I sucked Carla's nipples while she rode me and my mother bit her neck from behind.

—Come on, come on, I'm about to come —Carla gasped—. I'm coming, I'm coming…

—Come inside her —my mother murmured in her ear—. Let her come inside, Carla.

Carla contracted all over. Her pussy gripped my cock like a fist, milking it, and she let out a long cry that my mother muffled with her mouth. I felt her flood around me, soaking my thighs. I managed three more thrusts, all the way in, and came inside her in a long release that left me empty. Carla collapsed onto my chest, panting.

My mother gently lifted her, parted her buttocks, and looked at her pussy, now red, open, and dripping with my cum. She smiled. She lowered her face and ran her tongue along Carla's slit, collecting me from inside her. Carla let out a trembling, hypersensitive moan. Verónica straightened, came to my mouth, and kissed me, letting me taste the mixture of the two women on her tongue.

When the three of us were finished, Carla lay on her back staring at the ceiling, her eyes bright. My mother settled beside her, shoulder to shoulder, in a silence that needed no explanation. After a moment they turned toward each other and kissed slowly, without me being part of that exchange. It was something between them. My mother ran a hand over Carla's breast, caressed her nipple with the pad of her thumb, and Carla sighed softly.

I dressed without hurrying and left. I took a long shower with the water as hot as I could stand it.

***

The two women stayed locked in the room all afternoon. From time to time, when I passed nearby, I heard a muffled moan, the creak of the bed, a low laugh. I killed time in the living room with my phone in my hand, not really looking at anything. My sisters and Carla's daughters chatted in the kitchen with the ease of people who had gotten along from the start. No one came looking for me.

When the two women finally came out, they began preparing dinner. The smell of the turkey, which had been in the oven for hours, filled the entire cabin. I started setting the table without anyone asking me to. I didn't want them to keep looking at me as if I were a useless ornament.

Carla passed me on her way to get the glasses and brushed my arm with her fingers. Just that. Without looking at me. But I felt her hand drop and squeeze my cock through my pants for a second before she continued walking. I kept setting out the plates as if nothing had happened.

When Nora and Claudia came down the stairs, I had to brace myself against the nearest chair.

They were wearing strapless white dresses, tight against their bodies like a second skin. It was obvious they weren't wearing bras. Their nipples showed through the fabric. The dresses reached barely halfway down their thighs, and when Claudia bent over to adjust a glass, I realized they weren't wearing anything underneath. A glimpse of blond pussy appeared between her thighs before she straightened.

—What do you think? —Nora asked, twirling in front of me with the naturalness of someone who had no idea of the effect she produced. Or pretending not to know.

—Very nice —I replied, my voice sounding more controlled than I felt.

—Don't you think it's too short?

—For Christmas Eve in the Pyrenees —I said—, it's perfect.

They both laughed. Sofía rolled her eyes from the kitchen.

I poured myself a glass of cider and raised it silently before midnight arrived. To the storm that had left us trapped. To Carla. To my mother. To this Christmas Eve that none of the three of us would easily forget.

And to the hours that still lay ahead.