What I Saw That Dawn at the Campsite
It was close to three in the morning when I woke up in the tent I shared with my father. We had set up camp in the hills, an hour from town, and the silence of the woods was usually so thick that you could hear the crackle of an ember two hundred meters away. That was why the stillness of the spot where he should have been struck me so much.
I ran my hand over the empty sleeping bag. It was still warm, but he’d left it a while ago. The tent, too, had the zipper halfway down, as if he’d gone out expecting to be back in no time.
At first I figured he must have stepped away to piss. I waited three, five, ten minutes. No sound of footsteps coming back from the woods, no flashlight appearing between the trees. Not even the dry cough he always used to announce his return. I went out in shorts and barefoot, the dew soaking my ankles.
The moon was high and split the campsite in two: one half lit up as if it were daytime, the other sunk in ink-black shadow. We had two tents, pitched about ten meters apart. Mine held no one. The other, in theory, held my sister Camila and her friend Renata, who’d joined the trip at the last minute because her mother was going to a wedding.
I stood still for a few seconds, scanning the pines. I began to feel the cold of the grass creeping up my legs. That was when I heard it. A steady, low murmur coming from the girls’ tent.
It wasn’t just any murmur. It was rhythmic. It was the wet noise of one body slamming against another, mixed with muffled gasps.
I approached carefully, stepping on the balls of my feet so I wouldn’t snap any twigs. The closer I got, the clearer the sound became. At a meter and a half I could already make out my sister’s breathing among the other voices.
“Ah, ah, like that… there, take it all, daddy,” Camila said in a voice I had never heard from her before.
I froze. Something inside me understood before my head did what was happening, because I felt my throat go dry and my skin turn rough all at once. The tent was made of light-colored fabric and, with the moon behind it, it worked like a Chinese lantern projecting what was happening inside.
I saw two female silhouettes mounted over something, one facing the other, outlined against the fabric like a shadow theater. The one on the left was unmistakable: my sister’s breasts, larger than Renata’s, swayed with every movement, and the rocking was visible even in silhouette. The other, smaller, kept her hands up as if she were holding on to something invisible.
My father had to be underneath. It was the only thing that made sense.
***
I crouched off to the side, hidden behind the thick trunk of a quebracho tree. From there I could see the whole tent. I swallowed several times before I could think clearly. And when I could think clearly, the first thing I thought was that I shouldn’t be looking at that.
The second was that I wasn’t leaving.
My sister was moving faster and faster, making short little hops, impaling herself all the way down onto my father’s cock, and every so often she’d stop to circle her hips in small loops, grinding her cunt against the cock inside her. Renata, facing her, was pinching her nipples with both hands and every so often bending forward. I could see the outline of her hair falling over her face when she lowered her head.
Beneath the two of them there was a larger shadow, a third silhouette that filled the whole length of the tent. That silhouette wasn’t complaining or talking. It only had its hands up, on my sister’s tits, squeezing them with a calm that seemed worse to me than any shout.
It was my father.
It can’t be. It has to be something else.
But it wasn’t something else. It was exactly what it looked like. Camila was riding my old man’s cock, fucking him with hunger, and Renata was waiting her turn at the side, lips parted.
I felt dizzy. Then, without meaning to, I also felt a heat rising from my waist. My head filled at the same time with nausea and arousal, a strange mixture I had never felt before, and it left me unable to move from where I stood.
I put my hand inside my shorts. I didn’t know why. I did it before deciding to.
***
I was rock hard. I hadn’t realized until I touched myself. My cock was pulled tight against the fabric, wet at the tip, and when I grabbed it with my left hand a jolt shot up to my stomach. I started moving slowly, pulling the foreskin back and forth, watching those shadows. Every time my sister rose and fell, driving my father’s dick all the way in, I squeezed a little harder. The smell of damp earth mixed with the sweat already soaking the back of my neck.
“Fuck me hard, come on, fuck me,” Camila asked between gasps. “Rip me apart.”
I heard the slapping. A thick, obscene sloshing, a soaked cunt swallowing a whole cock over and over. My sister braced both hands on my father’s chest and started moving faster, bouncing in short strokes, and her tits were jolting so much they stood out perfectly against the lit fabric. I saw how he dug his fingers into her hips and set the rhythm from below, driving into her with hard thrusts that tore a “ah” from deep inside her each time.
Suddenly Camila leaned toward Renata and kissed her. The two silhouettes melted into one for a few seconds and, when they separated, I could clearly see Renata licking my sister’s neck. Then she went lower, slowly, to one of her breasts. I heard her suck, tug the nipple with her lips, let it go with a wet pop, and take it again. The tent went quiet for a moment, and then my sister let out a long moan that ended in a nervous laugh.
“Easy, Re,” she said softly. “If anyone in the campsite starts crying, I’m the one who’s going.”
She was just talking to talk, I guess, because within two hundred meters there wasn’t another tent besides ours.
My father, underneath, answered for the first time all night.
“Nobody’s going to cry. You keep moving that ass, because he’s inside you and you’re not letting him go until I say so.”
That voice, the voice I’d heard my whole life asking me to pass the bread at the table, giving me advice about the motorcycle, calling me to breakfast on Sundays, that voice, said in that tone, at that moment, left me empty inside and, at the same time, made me squeeze my fist faster around my own cock.
I was still behind the quebracho, barefoot, my heart pounding against my ribs. I was remembering things I hadn’t wanted to remember. Nights when Camila had come back to the living room late and stayed silent through breakfast. Times when my father had gone into her room supposedly to wish her goodnight and had taken much longer to come out than that phrase explained. The morning Renata stayed over and couldn’t look anyone in the eye until noon.
It was all this. All along, it had all been this.
***
Renata shifted herself around. I saw her get on all fours on the tent floor, ass lifted, and say something to my father in a pleading tone.
“Me too, come on, me too, don’t be mean.”
Camila laughed softly and slowly got off my father. The silhouette of his cock appeared for a moment against the fabric, black and erect, shining with my sister’s juices, before Renata moved to the side and crouched over it. I heard her lick it all over, from the base to the tip, suck his balls, choke a little when he shoved it down her throat.
“Look at how she sucks it, the little slut,” Camila said with a strange tenderness. “She learned fast.”
“Come here, Re,” my father ordered. “On your knees, like that, ass up. And you, Cami, get in front, so she can eat your cunt while I shove it in her.”
They got into position without arguing, as if that order didn’t need any words before it to be understood. Renata ended up on all fours, her head buried between my sister’s open legs, while Camila sat facing her. I saw my father’s silhouette kneel behind Renata, grab her hips, and with one thrust drive it all the way in. Renata let out a muffled moan against Camila’s cunt, a moan my sister softened by pressing her head down with both hands.
“Suck, Re, suck good,” Camila panted. “Don’t let up, he’s got his cock inside you.”
My father was fucking her with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in with a single stroke. Each thrust made the tent fabric sound like a drum from the trembling of the three bodies. I squeezed harder. I was on the edge, I knew it, and I didn’t want it to end yet. I wanted to watch. I wanted to understand, to the very end, what kind of man the one sleeping beside me every night really was.
“Oh, daddy, fuck her hard, like that, like that,” Camila urged him, rubbing her cunt against her friend’s mouth. “So she never forgets.”
“She won’t forget, no,” he answered, breathing short. “Neither of you will forget.”
He gave Renata a slap on the ass that sounded like a whip crack. Then another. And another. Renata pushed back against him in return, driving her hips backward, searching for the cock, while she kept eating my sister’s cunt with a desperation that even I, from outside, could hear.
***
After a while like that, my father pulled out all at once. Renata protested with a short moan.
“Now the two of you are going to suck me off,” he said. “Did you hear me right? Both of you. And you’re not stopping until I empty myself on one of your faces. Figure it out between you, I don’t care.”
I saw both heads lower at the same time. One on each side. The shadow of my father’s cock disappeared between the four hands and two mouths.
The shadows moved in a calm choreography. One went down wrapping him with her lips while the other ran her tongue over his balls. Every so often one of them would pull away to breathe and the other would immediately fill that space, sucking him all the way, down to the root, until you could hear the gagging. It was routine. They did it like people who know the steps to a dance they’ve repeated many times.
“The two of you suck me so well,” my father said in a low whisper. “You’re going to leave me dry. Get all my milk out, come on, get it out of me.”
It was the pride of a man who was used to it. Not the surprise of someone discovering something. That was what finally broke something inside me.
Camila took his cock with both hands and slowly ran her tongue over the tip, looking at him, while Renata took it in from underneath, sucking his balls. Then they switched. Renata swallowed him halfway, let a thread of saliva hang from her mouth, and Camila licked him from top to bottom as if he were an ice cream.
“Open wide, Re,” my sister whispered. “It’s coming for you.”
My father growled. I saw his silhouette arch back, one hand buried in the hair of one of them — I think Renata’s, because the strands fell differently — while the two heads worked his cock faster.
***
I came right there, hidden behind the tree, biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t shout. I felt the cum surge up from my balls and spurt out in hot bursts, soiling my fingers and the grass in front of me. My right knee shook nonstop. I leaned my back against the trunk and breathed slowly, silently, looking up at the sky, my hand still full of semen.
The moon was still up there, indifferent, splitting the woods in two.
Inside the tent, my father’s breathing quickened. Both heads stayed in place, backs curved, as he raised the volume of a moan he’d been holding back for too long. Then I heard his broken voice.
“Here it comes, here it comes, swallow it, Cami, swallow it all.”
I saw my sister’s silhouette pressed to the tip of the cock, her throat working, and Renata at the side sticking out her tongue to catch whatever spilled. One stream hit her cheek. Another Camila swallowed whole. A third landed on Renata’s tits, and she picked it up with her finger and brought it to her mouth.
“Ah… ah, like that…” my father let out at the end, almost a sigh.
They didn’t take long to move again. I heard them laugh softly, both of them, as if sharing an old joke. My father muttered something I couldn’t make out. One of them answered him with a tender murmur. Next came the sound of the zipper sliding open a few centimeters.
They were going to come out.
I crossed the ten meters that separated one tent from the other barefoot as if they were a hundred, holding my breath, my hand still sticky. I wiped it quickly against the grass before going in, left the zipper just barely closed, and crawled into the sleeping bag up to my nose. I shut my eyes tight until my brows pressed into my skin.
I heard him come in three minutes later. I felt him settling in, moving the flashlight into the bag to put it away, lowering his own zipper and getting inside. He brought the smell of the two girls with him: cunt, saliva, sweat. He didn’t say a single word. I breathed through my mouth, slowly, pretending to be in the deepest sleep of my life.
Before going still, he sighed long and satisfied, like any man returning to his place after having done exactly what he’d planned. And he fell asleep.
***
The next morning the four of us had breakfast around the fire. Camila had her hair tied back and a huge sweatshirt covering everything she hadn’t been covering yesterday. Renata, sitting next to her, stirred her coffee as if she needed to do something with her hands so she wouldn’t look at anyone. My father cooked scrambled eggs with ham and gave me double the portion.
“You slept like a log,” he told me, handing me the plate.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Like a log.”
Camila looked at me for a second. Just one second. Then she lowered her eyes to her coffee and kept drinking.
Renata never looked at me.
And I, while I chewed, thought that that campsite was the last one I would ever go to with them. But I also thought that, for a long time, before sleeping, I was going to go back in my head to that tent, to that moon, to those two silhouettes rocking against the light fabric and to the broad shadow that held them from below. I was going to go back many times, I knew it then. And I did.
The moon lit the silhouettes inside the other tent and, before I understood what was happening in there, I could no longer move from where I stood.