I Pretended to Sleep and Discovered What They Were Doing in My Living Room

I’m not quite sure where to begin, but my hands are still trembling as I remember it, and I’d rather tell it while it’s still fresh. If I let it sit for another week, I’m going to start doubting whether it really happened or whether it was one of those scenes the brain invents when you fall asleep on the wrong sofa. Writing it down may help put it in order.

That Friday I’d dragged my body around as if I were hauling a bag of cement. I’d had the worst week of the year: split shifts, two late deliveries, and a boss whose patience I’d exhausted by Tuesday. When I got home I went straight to my room, flopped face-up on the bed without taking off my sneakers, and turned on the console, determined not to speak to anyone until Monday.

I was fighting a final boss, annoyed because I couldn’t land a single hit, when Camila shoved the door open without knocking. My older sister has that habit of walking in as if she owned the air I breathe. She barely looked at me.

—Bruno, put the console down for a while. Two friends are coming over for a drink. Come down for a bit, don’t be such a grump.

I was about to say no, but then she muttered Mara’s name and my face changed. Mara is the friend who’s been coming around for get-togethers since last summer, and every time she laughs I have to look at the floor so it doesn’t show. I told Camila I’d be down in a bit, shut off the console with a hard smack of the controller because I hadn’t cleared the level, and splashed cold water on my face before changing my T-shirt.

I went downstairs pretending to be half-hearted about it. In the living room Carla and Mara were already settled on the long sofa, with two bottles on the coffee table and a warm lamp glowing in the corner. Carla is a bit older, around thirty-five, tall, dark-skinned, with long, very straight hair. She has small, slanted eyes, a mole at cheekbone height, and a way of looking that feels like she’s calculating something. Mara, by contrast, is shorter, light blonde, with huge eyes and a small mouth. Her hair had been cut to her shoulders, and it suited her better than before. I greeted both of them as if nothing were happening, but inside my blood was boiling.

The four of us sat down to drink. I tried to keep things proper, but by the second glass I was flirting with Mara as if Camila weren’t there. She answered me with sideways smiles, one of those looks that lasts a second longer than it should. My sister, though, locked eyes with me and I understood the message: ease up. I toned it down and focused on listening.

The problem was the exhaustion. Half an hour later my eyelids were heavy. I shifted to the sofa across from them, rested the back of my neck on the armrest, and closed my eyes for a second. After that second, nothing. I fell asleep without meaning to, with the noise in the background and the vanilla scent of Mara’s perfume in my nose.

I don’t know how long I slept. Camila woke me when she draped a fleece blanket over me without making a sound. I didn’t open my eyes all the way: just parted my lashes enough to confirm where I was and then closed them again. Camila was sitting with the other two, I silently thanked her for the blanket, and I settled onto my side against the backrest.

I wanted to fall asleep again and couldn’t. They were laughing hard, shouting over each other, and between bursts of laughter they kept shushing one another by name, including me. Somebody shut them up, please, I thought. But I didn’t dare get up. And then, after a while, they lowered their voices until it became whispering, and curiosity pinned my eyes to the sofa’s leather.

They were talking about men. About first times. About experiences none of them had ever told anyone, apparently, they clarified among themselves. I, with my face against the couch and the blanket up to my neck, stayed perfectly still. Every time one of the three dropped a detail, I held my breath so I wouldn’t miss the next sentence.

—If this stays between us —Carla said, lowering her voice even more—, I have a fantasy I’ve never told anyone.

Here it comes, I thought without moving.

—What is it? —Camila and Mara asked almost at the same time.

—I’ve always found other women’s tits really pretty. Mine bore me. I’m curious to see someone else’s up close.

There was a silence that lasted less than it should have. Mara brought her hands up over her shirt and squeezed her breasts with a smile, as if testing a hypothesis.

—If they’re pretty, they’re pretty —Mara said.

—Will you let me see them? —Carla asked, and my body started to come undone under the blanket.

Mara didn’t answer with words. She lifted her T-shirt and the cup of her bra in one motion, as if she’d practiced it, and exposed her right breast. The lamp’s light barely touched her skin, and her nipple stood out a pale pink that burned itself into my memory. Carla let out an almost inaudible sigh.

—What a lovely nipple you have —she said, and Mara adjusted her clothes, covering herself again.

—Now you.

Carla didn’t need asking twice. She pulled her shirt off over her head and bared both breasts at once, without a bra. They were bigger, broader, with dark, firm nipples. Mara bit her lip.

—Now I want to taste them. Can I?

—Come here.

Mara leaned over Carla with a hand on her waist and started sucking them patiently, first one, then the other, while Carla closed her eyes and leaned back against the sofa. Under my blanket I could no longer hide the bulge that had formed, and my breathing was quickening against my will. I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t make a sound.

—Shhh —Camila cut in, eyes fixed on the sofa where I was—. You’re going to wake him.

Camila, shut up yourself, I thought desperately.

The two of them pulled apart and turned toward my sister at the same time. Something lit up in their eyes.

—I want to see yours —Carla said.

—Me too —Mara finished.

Camila tried to slip away. She started saying that I was there, that I might wake up any second, that this wasn’t the place. The other two exchanged glances and surrounded her, one on each side, without answering. Carla was the first to dare: she slid a hand under Camila’s shirt with that slowness that’s worse than haste. Mara copied her. My sister didn’t stop them.

***

They pulled her shirt and bra down until her breasts were exposed. Camila has the biggest breasts of the three, white, with light nipples that went hard as soon as the air touched them. Carla pressed her mouth to one; Mara, to the other. Camila threw her head back and let out a low moan unlike any I’d ever heard from her in my life. And that was it, I couldn’t take it anymore: I slid my hand under my pants without thinking and started touching myself slowly, measuring every movement so the blanket wouldn’t give me away.

I was overwhelmed by a filthy thrill I couldn’t even classify. She was my sister, yes, but it was also the situation: the low light, the whispering, the friends, the feeling of seeing something that wasn’t meant for me. I wanted to be complicit and wanted to disappear at the same time. I stayed still.

—What delicious breasts you have —Mara said, pulling back for a moment.

—I’m even getting turned on —Carla added.

My sister, already surrendered to the game, let out a low laugh.

—If they suck them well, they suck them well.

—Let’s do a round —Carla suggested—. Two of us suck on the third, then we switch.

—Okay —the other two said, almost at once.

They started with Mara. She took off her shirt and bra and leaned back against the cushions. Camila and Carla bent over her, one on each side, with none of the shyness from the beginning. They licked, sucked, nibbled softly, ran their hands along her waist. Mara closed her eyes and buried a hand in my sister’s hair, pressing her against her chest.

Then came Carla. She, without the slightest shame, took off her shirt and surrendered to the other two women’s double tongue with the smile of someone who had imagined it a hundred times. She was, without a doubt, the least inhibited of the trio. She stroked Camila’s back while Mara bit one of her nipples.

My sister’s turn came last, and it was the hardest for me to watch without forgetting to breathe. Carla and Mara squeezed her between them. Mara ended up on top of her, kissing her on the mouth. Camila kissed her back with an intensity that made me turn my face slightly to hide it better against the backrest. For a moment, she seemed to have completely forgotten that she had a brother a meter and a half away.

—We need a man —Carla said, wriggling free from the tangle, panting—. Now.

Here I am, I thought. Here I am. But I didn’t move.

Carla grabbed her phone and dialed. She spoke in a low voice for a few seconds, hung up, hurriedly straightened her clothes, and left the house walking toward the corner. Mara and Camila kept kissing on the long sofa as if nothing were happening, with hands everywhere, no longer bothering to hide anything.

***

Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Carla came in holding hands with a tall, burly guy with a full beard, a black jacket, and jeans. They were kissing in the doorway as if they’d been at it for a while. He looked at Camila and Mara, tangled up on the sofa, and froze for a second, with that expression of not quite understanding but wanting to understand immediately.

Carla took his hand, dragged him to the long sofa, and pushed him down beside the girls. She sat on top of him and slammed a long kiss onto his mouth while pulling off his jacket. The guy got into it: he ran his hands over her legs, her back, her neck. Camila and Mara kept doing their thing, but Mara’s hands started searching for Carla’s breasts over the boy’s shoulder.

I couldn’t handle my body anymore. I lowered my pants a little more and took myself firmly in my hand, slowly, trying to keep the blanket covering me. The guy, when he got impatient with Carla, bent over Mara and kissed her. Then he went to Camila. The three of them shared his mouth as if they’d practiced it before.

He took Mara’s pants off first. He arranged her on her side on the sofa and penetrated her without much preamble. Mara moaned, short at first, then longer, with that cadence of someone no longer worried about who might hear her. I dug my teeth into my lower lip and sped my hand up under the blanket. My sister, at some point, hesitated. She made the gesture of getting up, of going to the other sofa, as if only then had she realized what was happening. The guy, without stopping, while moving in Mara, held out an arm and pulled her in. Camila didn’t resist.

They positioned her on the adjacent sofa, on all fours. He left Mara alone for a while and focused on my sister. He pulled down her pants and the rest. Carla moved in front of Camila, opened her shirt, and sucked on her breasts while Camila touched herself with her other hand. From my angle I could see every detail, and for a second I thought I was going to finish too soon. I stopped, breathed, resumed.

After a long while, the guy pulled away from the two of them and stood there for a moment, breathing hard. My sister took his arm and gave him a kiss he hadn’t expected. Then she pulled Mara by the hand, gestured to the guy toward the stairs, and the three of them went up to the bedroom. Their footsteps faded in the upstairs hallway and the door shut with a dry click.

***

Carla was left in the living room. And me.

I lay motionless with my hand still under the blanket. I thought she’d get dressed and leave, that the show was over for me. But I heard her stand and walk slowly to the sofa where I was. I smelled her perfume before I felt her breath.

—I know you’re awake —she said, almost soundlessly, very close to my ear—. It’s okay. Stay like that. I like it better if you keep pretending you’re asleep.

I closed my eyes tighter. I wasn’t going to open them for anything in the world. I felt her lift the blanket from my feet and draw it back just enough to expose me. I heard her laugh softly.

—I thought so.

I didn’t have time to think much more. I felt her hair fall over my thigh and then her mouth. Warm, patient, determined. She started at the tip and moved down with her tongue to the base, leaving a wet trail that etched itself into me like a brand. She held me with one hand while with the other she stroked the rest of me with that mix of firmness and delicacy that isn’t learned overnight.

I gripped the back of the sofa until my fingers hurt. I wanted to make noise and couldn’t. I wanted to stay silent and couldn’t quite manage that either: a moan slipped out between my teeth, and she answered by increasing the rhythm, as if I’d given her permission. It was humiliating and delicious at the same time. I thought of my sister upstairs, of the guy, of Mara, of everything I’d seen from under the blanket, and all of it mixed into a single electric current that shot up my back to the nape of my neck.

I came without warning. Carla didn’t flinch. She stayed there, mouth closed, until the last spasm, and then she ran her tongue over her lips like someone cleaning a little ice cream from them. She settled the blanket back over my legs with an odd care, almost maternal.

—Next time I’ll ride you —she said very softly, almost against my ear—. For today, that’s enough.

She got dressed in two moves and left. I heard the door close on the outside and the street become the street again, as if nothing had happened in that living room.

I stayed a while longer with my eyes closed, my breathing shattered, listening to the distant creaks from the room upstairs. I thought I should feel guilt, shame, horror. I felt none of that. What I felt most of all was a desire for the next get-together to come around, and for me not to fall asleep so soon again.

I smiled in the dark and, for the first time all week, fell asleep at once.