My Wife and Her Uncle

I froze. My lips were dry, again.

My hands kept trying to open the lid of the water bottle, but they were sweating, I was always sweating here.

What is happening? I thought.

I remembered my step-father, commenting what had become my new personal mantra: ‘You can’t escape the sun there’. I didn’t remember his exact words but I knew that’s what he’d meant.

The plastic crumpled as I f****d it with more violence than I’d meant to use. The water here had a faint metallic taste. Warm; it brought no relief going down.

My brain met my eyes again and realized I hadn’t stopped staring this whole time, staring at this.

“Is this real?” I muttered.

I imagine my expression was some poor conjunction between confusion and perplexed shock.

I wanted to keep some composure, I wanted to project that…false serenity. It always made me look mature beyond my years—first impressions are very important, and I wanted to impress—but my mind couldn’t wrap around this scene.

This can’t be right.


In the early months, to me Colombia was always alien and bizarre. Loud, warm, vibrant. The hot winds of summer fluttered through leaves on lone trees—wherever they managed to rebel on any of the multiple rivers of mangled concrete streets—baring the sky and yourself from the much needed shelter of the clouds.

Life was desperately trying to catch up with the modern world, but the indigenous soul of the people stood, and the result was a whirlwind of wonderfully bright colours and music. Women wore this on their flesh – playful, elegant and spirited. It was amazing. A stark contrast to my quiet, dull life growing up in a classic suburban community. On any given street you’d find someone willing to sell, to speak, to smile…or to take. I lost my watch twice before I learned not to trust anyone, not even little kids. Still, over time I came to appreciate that culture and to tolerate its dark side.

So yes, I learned plenty, but as strange and passionate this country had been for me, nothing I ever lived there prepared me for the idiosyncrasies of my girlfriend’s family, especially concerning her uncle.

I was standing there, not ten steps back, with my mind racing to count all the reasons why he shouldn’t even think about touching her breast while he conversed with her, groping away over her purple blouse like this wasn’t his niece, or we weren’t present, me and Milena’s mother and aunt. He was so casual.

“No, this can’t be right,” I grinned, hoping it was some sick joke. The scorching Colombian sun and my sprouting anger were starting to make my head spin.

“How are you, mi amor? Do they hurt?” he asked, taunting her with a feigned worried tone that was supposed to add humor to his facade. His raspy voice was sandpaper to my ears, and his tone was not at all familial to me, but she seemed comfortable enough with the fondling.

Rolling her eyes with a shy smile forcing her lips, Milena nodded.

What is she doing? Wait, hurt?

The sudden ‘get together’ was beginning to make sense.

Was that why they arranged this whole thing? They think she’s pregnant? God, I knew I shouldn’t have come.

I proposed to Milena because I was completely in love with her, and while this love only matured with time, in our haste, we did pay a heavy price for each step. But apparently, in here people only married to legitimize c******n. I’d spent months in that country and was starting to grasp the basic concepts of its convoluting culture.

“Okay… Yes, uncle. I’m okay, really,” her hand held his arm and her eyes laid over his contracting fingers.

“You’re so hot, Milena. You’re already more beautiful than your mother ever was,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her cheek with his hands never leaving her tit.

There was something about him, about his behaviour, screaming that he might go even further.

I looked past them hoping to find some semblance of normality in her mother and aunt’s response, but I found them to be chuckling before returning to their own conversation, as if it simply was a common and acceptable joke that I was too foreign to understand.

For a split second; it made me doubt my own sense.

Am I overreacting? Overthinking?

No. When my mind unveiled the only possible answer, I took hold of it as though it were white hot nails. A slow blistering pain flashed through me, fueling my growing contempt towards these mocking strangers.

It felt natural to detach myself from all of them. We’d only just arrived but I had decided to leave. I couldn’t stand the thought of humoring my girlfriend’s family for a second longer, incensed as I was with their attitude and with Milena’s filthy uncle…who was now, kissing her neck?


While I’d been fumbling with my thoughts, my mother-in-law and her sister had walked away, greeting someone else in the farthest stand, away from the street. Looking back at my soon-to-be wife I was finally convinced that all pretense of normalcy had been thrown out the window.

His incipient beard kept tickling Milena’s neck with each playful kiss, testing her boundaries in a sick game, drawing shy giggles from my passive girlfriend. His mock purring was the only difference between them and two strangers in a nightclub.

I took a couple steps in their direction, white knuckled and stoking my own rage. I was purposefully gathering enough of it to punch the old smirking stranger, eager to break both his pudgy face and any possible diplomacy with the in-laws.

He stopped to glance at the sisters—both still immerse in their own conversation with the third woman—before increasing his assault with a crawling, passionate pace, smacking his lips onto her neck, one hand held her head in place and the other was still on her breast, now at the bare side of her blouse.

Milena had her mouth half open, her eyes active and wide at last, trying to find words amidst her molestation. She had chosen a curious moment to draw the line.

“Uncle… Uncle… This is– Hm! I’ll introduce you to my bo– Ah!” she moaned with one particularly deep kiss to her neck.

With that, he stopped, just seconds shy of getting caught by the pair of black haired, females coming back to our place in the stand.

When he stepped back, I saw her neck again.

It was gleaming.


At some point in their act, I had begun to feel something. It was growing—unbeknownst to me—beyond control and invariably fast, so big and clear until it was impossible to ignore. It was so potent now it overshadowed my anger; I searched for remains of my burning hate but it was nowhere. I’d lived as a teenager long enough to understand what I felt but at the moment I was clueless as to why.

My own pride; my dignity, refused to believe it, but that simply added to my confusion and frustration. I barely had time to register it before her aunt spoke.

“Hey! Leave Mile alone. Look this is her boyfriend,” she pointed, looking me in the eye. Her hair waved with the dirty hot wind from the busy street.

I hadn’t noticed before—between the two sisters, my future mother-in-law always drew more unwanted attention—but her natural, flowing dark hair was especially beautiful. This and her subtle knowing expression persuaded me to take enough tension from my shoulders and shake hands with the shorter, beer gutted man beside her.

He looked confused; surprised even, turning around. It dawned on me – he didn’t know. He had no idea that the figure he saw behind his niece upon her arrival was actually her boyfriend, not some stranger casually walking down the street. After all, when he set his eyes upon Milena I never saw him turn my way again. I could imagine all this going through his mind; he hesitated, unsure of where we stood, before warily stepping away from Milena to shake my hand with a bright smile that stood out as what I thought was his only redeemable quality.

“Hola, ‘mo está.” He rushed his spanish, avoiding my stare. Surely my face had yet to be drained of the previous cocktail of emotions. When he removed himself from between my field of vision and Milena, I could see her in full again.

Everything looked good on Milena back then. It spoke about her taste, but it goes beyond that. Even now, bright or dark colours; it doesn’t matter, everything bends and shifts to make her green eyes glow – her clear, white skin makes an amazing contrast with the dark colour of her hair. Maybe it was just the fact that I was in love, but the little flaws on her body really made her more attractive. Also, the fact that the only woman of her family that used bras was her mother didn’t exactly add to objectivity.

She wore her Deep V blouse that day. It would take years before she wore something so sexy on the street again. The soft texture of the cotton framed by her straight locks of hair was an invitation to feel the luscious shape of her pale breasts.

I remember her face was an even mix between anger and blushing shame, a natural reaction, I’d expect, from what had been happening, but whether this was because it happened in public, or because I was there, I didn’t know. In any case, it didn’t escape me that the outline of her hard nipples was now clearly visible through her clothes.

“Hola, mi amor. How is my pretty sister? Your husband?” I heard him say, greeting my future mother-in-law. For me, the lascivious tone in his voice did not fade when talking to his sister.

Indifferent, she replied, “We are all well, thank the Lord.”

There was a strange tension in the air.

If my mother-in-law felt any love for her older brother, she hid it well. I had the impression that I was alone in my contempt towards his little number with Milena, but maybe I was wrong. Or maybe this was about something else; there’s always that one person in the family, and in this one it had to be him. Or perhaps that’s how severely religious women always behaved; I had never met one so, faithful. It always irked me how such a perfectly attractive woman in her forty-somethings would actively choose to look perpetually pissed off. Maybe it was because of men like him.

“Ay Dios, you have my favorites! I haven’t seen these in forever! Papa always had these for me when I visited him,” said the youngest sister, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere and fascinated by a colorful bouquet; she’d picked the biggest one.

“80.000 pesos.” He cut her off, taking the flowers from her hands and placing them back in the stand.

“Wha-uh, hey I’m your sister!” she complained. Her eyes glared as she smiled in disbelief.

“It is true.” Her brother conceded. “79.000 pesos and it is yours”.

“I’m your little sister!” she repeated, now resembling more to a spoiled teen than the 30 something woman she was. “We grew up together for God’s sake!”

“It is true, 90.000 pesos,” he sentenced.

With their laughter as background I could feel the wariness in me start to recede. I got a glimpse of how much of a dysfunctional family they were—as much as mine—, although with a twist. I imagined that, in the family’s dynamic, the youngest sister was the catalyst for peace and equilibrium. Certainly a heavy burden to stand between a sexual deviant and a religious zealot.

I never really had a model for a healthy relationship. Any. I wondered if I wasn’t missing the big picture or, giving them the short end of the stick as I passed judgment onto these strangers from my high chair. They were real adults, and I was a sprout of a man in my twenties, what did I know about how a family should behave? I was so confused.

After seeing them together – their honest effort to make it work, I read between the lines and found that this gathering wasn’t just with some perverse, dark motive. They had a reason to meet again. They were happy. My compassion overthrew my disdain and I tried my best to be amicable with the group. I’d always struggled with expecting the worst from people and honestly, to this day I still do.

I took a big gulp out of my water bottle and watched them take shelter from the sun beneath the stand’s roof. I surveyed the inside of the structure, which was shaped like a kiosk, made out of long metal plates with thick coats of white paint on the outside. It was supported on four big rusty wheels; it looked like someone took an old mail truck and worked on it until it was almost a room, with a bathroom of sorts. It had been a family business for two generations but it was even older, according to my girlfriend.

Eventually their conversation flowed to a frantic pace until well past the point when I lost all capacity to follow, Spanish still proving difficult. Watching their joyful chatter, I made peace with the idea of letting go everything I’d seen, we would be moving soon anyway.

It’s not like we’ll ever see him again. I thought.


A couple hours before we left, Milena and her aunt went to a small mall nearby.

The sun had been relentless, and I didn’t want to walk, but staying with my future mother-in-law and her perverted old brother seemed like the perfect recipe for a very uncomfortable conversation, so the choice for me was obvious. Yet, to my despair, we were heading to a popular fabric chain store.

Now, the thing about these stores is that their characteristics are universal: dimly lit, very tight hallways that seem to extend beyond sight, endless piles of long rolls of fabric, no air conditioning and the tiniest fan you could possibly imagine.

Any trip with a mature woman at any given time within these shops will yield the same result: hours in search of something they somehow don’t find, only to buy something that they weren’t looking for, while you stand in a corner wondering why their mannequins don’t have heads. You can actually sense the seconds tick by; I’m telling you, time works differently in there. Besides, in that heat, I wasn’t gonna try my luck in a crowded place with a couple of five inch fans for ventilation. I made my excuse and practically ran away.

I came back to the flower stand; it was empty.

Relieved that I wouldn’t have to find ways to circumvent rude probing in conversation, I went inside to use the bathroom. I heard something; rushed whispers and rumble. There was someone struggling behind the bathroom door. It was hard to make out what they were saying but it sounded private and urgent.

I figured Uncle Goatee and my mother-in-law were having a fight.

I knew I had to leave, but curiosity got the best of me. I think I simply wanted to know more. There were so many things I didn’t understand from my soon-to-be in-laws.

I was so nervous. I had a heavy feeling that I should go back to the store, but I never left.

With shaking hands I put my ear to the wall to hear the muffled echo of her fevered female voice. Breathless, the pace of her short bursts of speech was hard to understand. I barely managed to translate rough bits.

“– is sick… This- Ah! You’ll never change.”

“Shh. — be a quickie,” he countered under a muzzled tone.

“– keep doing this… I’m married now, this is sin!”

My brain rushed to connect the dots. My b***d beat into my temples. It was hard to hear the words coming from my girlfriend’s twisted Uncle, masked by his naturally deeper tone.

“– this, Ah! I-I have my husband in the house, God!” she continued her protest. “I’m married! At least let me– wait no! Put on a condom. Umph! Oh God… Oooh God…Softly, softly.”

I felt the muted struggle fade into a quiet rhythmic grunting that sent shivers through my stomach. I could imagine her black hair covering her back, her hands holding the door for balance while her perverted old brother took her from behind. Her eyes closed, mouth agape and grunting with each thrust – with her dew drop tits bobbling at the motion. Even the door was now shaking slightly from their obvious rutting.

Shaking a bit myself, I stepped back, sensing my heart beat painfully in my chest and the b***d pulsing through my veins. I realized I’d been holding my breath when I heard my mother-in-law start to moan, just loud enough to be heard where I was standing.

The scene overtook me. The fear of getting caught sprung my body outside, heart in my throat, back to the time-bending store, nervous and disoriented.

I looked around as I stepped back.

There is people walking by. We’re in an open street. There’s a market right there. I thought.

I jogged back to the store. Guilty and aware of my erection.


Back home, Years Later.

“Amor, is it my turn with dinner?”

The light from inside the bedroom made her locks glow with deep dark shades of brown. Her sight hurt me in such a special way… I’ve almost started to enjoy it.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.” I replied, renouncing to the mournful quiet of winter in the balcony.

She looked at me with secret attention – for the genuine reassurance of my glazed eyes. Nothing like a sincere compliment to chase away her insecurities… for a while.

“Okay ‘mor, no rush,” she smiled.

As Milena walked away, my eyes followed her malicious sway; a hypnotizing dance between the two globes that made my trembling hands move by their own will.

Fuck… That never gets old, I thought.

I’m convinced latin b***d breeds ass without equal among women of any other ancestry, and those loose pants only suggested the outline of their shape. I didn’t think it could entice me more if it was literally perfect.

She stopped to glance at me from the top of the stairs, catching my sight imprisoned as usual between the crevice of her mounds. Milena had always been sexy, but her ass was my absolute favorite. We were still young, but those hips almost screamed milf.

“You like these pants? I just borrowed them from my sister,” she asked, a mischievous grin conflicted with the innocence of her demeanor.

Rather irked by her obvious grasp of my helpless attraction, I tried to change the subject, desperate to salvage whatever ‘power’ I had left.

“‘Borrowed’, yeah. I’ve heard that about a third of the things you still have in the closet.” I blurted.

“Oh,” she teased, “should I maybe…take them off?”

She was wearing that feigned pouty innocence again, sliding her pants off slowly. Her arched back offered her meaty ass, only a string of fabric short of nudity.

“M-Milena!” I stuttered.

She giggled at my pouring alarm. We both knew that, from where she was standing, anyone downstairs by the door or near the couch could easily enjoy her near-nude waist.

“Wait, are you wearing a G-string?” I remarked, feeling an all too familiar stirring commence. The thin line of fabric was the only cover she’d chosen for her ass this evening, and it was deep between her cheeks (just as I wanted to be).

She nodded, casual, nibbling her lip as she put her pants back on her hips.

“Well, Amor, don’t you think that…Um, today, with your uncle home…”

Frowning confused, she said, “What do you mean? Don’t worry, mi amor.” Now waving her hands dismissively.

This long awaited reunion originally included her mother and brother, but in the end, they couldn’t afford it. Her uncle found out and, albeit infamous among her family for his short arms when it came to use his modest fortune, offered to pay a ticket for his youngest’s niece, with the condition that he’d come along too.

Milena’s giggled with an excited, happy tone, “Hurry, let’s go down. We have guests.” Her smile was the last thing I saw before she went down the stairs.

What a beautiful girl.

I waited for my surviving erection to subside, tried to take one last sip at my glass before I’d follow her into the living room to attend my unspoken duties as host, but found only own reflection at the bottom.

“Okay.” I sighed. Facing her family’s disconcerting exchanges was an inevitable end to this day.

And it was waiting for me beyond the bottom of the stairs.


“Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Valerie.”

Downstairs in the living room, I glanced at the kitchen to see Milena’s uncle already taking a seat in one of the stools, completely invested in their conversation while she fluttered around, happily engrossed in the occasion; the cooking, the smiling, and the news.

I turned again to face the pretty, shorter blonde, introducing herself in the tense, basic english, and met her with my polite smile. I had heard that stiff presentation so many times before I felt I was back in Colombia.

She’s blonde… Are they really sisters?

Her eyes, like my wife’s, were green, yes, of a deeper shade, but she was fairly younger and her hair was dark, dirty blonde. No one I ever met in Milena’s family had hair like that.

Still smiling, I finally retorted. “Y-Yes, hi Valerie, nice to meet you. How was your flight?”

Her eyes darted beyond me before she answered with a strange look.

“Wow… It was… ”

I noticed her nipples outlined in the gray, loose tank top. Her tits were two natural drops swelling free with her respiration.

Do they really not know what that does to men? I thought.

I can’t imagine what kind of trip she had in that deep V cleavage sitting beside that dirty old man at night; and for who knows how many hours between connecting flights. I caught myself staring at her breasts.

“It was… ” she repeated, smiling and exposing my staring. “…Fun.” With the last word came a subtle expression of complicity that made me swallow in reflex, immediately flushing my cheeks with fiery red.

I always thanked God for allowing me to find Milena, especially knowing the scope of my social skills around women, back then. But now I was so out of the game that even these small situations were enough to make me nervous.

“Okay. I mean– I’m glad,” I said. “Want me to take your bags?” Pointing at the stairs, both already in my hand.

At the perspective of finally resting, she groaned, “Yes! Thaank you. It was very, very long day. Thank you,” throwing kisses with her hands.

I’d been dreading this day ever since I had it f****d upon me with no questions asked – their abusive rudeness had reached my own home before they even stepped on the door, but the sincerity behind her accented, chopped english promised a new perspective for this whole visit. It felt nice to finally meet a polite, normal person among my in-laws.

I glanced at the kitchen again, heading upstairs with the tattered bags. Her uncle had turned to see Valerie’s, fit frame as she walked past me to join their conversation. He stared at her chest, sitting and grinning coy at their smooth jiggling on each step of her sandals. My wife mouthed me a clueless ‘thank you’ from behind the leering jackass and I winked at her before going upstairs.

Struggling with the ever impractical heavy bags I reached the door, surprised I had warmed up from the trivial exercise; I had to start keeping my sugar in check.

“What a creep.” I whispered, finally alone, in the guest room. It was neat and clean; what my wife had done in a couple hours would have taken me an evening, so I did the painting instead, the lingering smell on the surface still coated the air. I set the bags on the floor beside the trundle bed with a background of chatter, sudden laughter and clanking pots and pans.

“Well, that goes for me too,” I said. I didn’t know it yet, but months of bland, unpassionate sex along with the drinks that day got the better of me. It wasn’t like me to stare. I wouldn’t admit it, but sex persisted in the back of my mind throughout the days.

“I wouldn’t be so uncomfortable about all this if it wasn’t for that opportunistic twisted fuck.” I muttered. Milena had heard many rumors about his ‘activities’ back in Colombia.

Now that he was here, invading my home, I couldn’t wait for him to leave.


I’d prepared myself for a long night, but I’d forgotten how exhausting this long trips were.

I couldn’t have been there for more than five minutes before Milena’s sister went up and asked, ‘Where is the bathroom?’, took a shower and went straight into her room, skipping dinner. Another twenty minutes until I served the plates and, before I realized, I was lying in bed, happy with the smooth ending of the ‘dreadful day’.

Several minutes later, I saw my wife come into the room with a timid, silent walk and I knew the day was completely over; everyone was asleep.

I took off my pants and underwear under the covers as I watched her patiently through the open bathroom door – she dropped off her blouse on the floor, full round breasts now bare, staring at me through mirror over the sink and jiggling with her every move. Milena stripped of everything else for a quick shower, while I marveled on her fading naked sight.

She put on one of her full nightgowns, without much ceremony; a transparent white lace mesh, mid thigh high.

I could hear her breathing, as if we were already twenty minutes into foreplay; and she hadn’t even reached the bed.

Over a sultry smirk, she said, “Do you like it?”

I was a little curious, but seeing that body through the sheer fabric, I could barely wait to let myself loose.

I sat up and growled, “Like it? You look really good. Did you keep drinking downstairs after I le-”

I got a French kiss before I could finish.

The tips of her breasts grazed my chest as she straddled me; they made me want to explore every inch of her flesh with my hands. She felt so fresh; it filled me with lust.

“Jeesus Milena…” Was all I could muster.

Her hands were all over me, pulling my hair, grinding me closer.

“Touch me,” she whispered between kisses. “Touch wherever you like.”

I was enthralled, but there was something different.

It was the hastiness behind her movements or the need I felt behind the kiss. My wife could be painfully flirty with me, especially after some drinks, but it was mostly just teasing. I don’t remember the last time she was this…wild, about sex. I didn’t know the reason behind Milena’s sudden outburst of lust, but I thought, this visit keeps getting better and better.

She pushed me down into bed, and I reveled in her naked figure behind the sheer negligee while she fumbled with my shirt, my hands already mauling her ass cheeks. She bit her lip with eyes closed, grinding into my hardness.

“Ay si, que rico… Hmmph…” She threw her head back, whimpering, her Spanish coupling with the cascading locks sliding from her face.

Okay, what has gotten into her? I thought, smiling like an idiot.

I’d only heard that much Spanish from her once since we moved in here, and it’s not something I like to remember. I was half ecstatic at her display and half wondering if this was actually my wife at all.

Over time, it became clear that I could have sex with Milena almost on a daily basis if I wanted to, and you bet I did, at first. Years went by, before I realized I was the only one initiating sex – my wife, Milena, one of the sexiest woman I had ever met, had no spark, no showing appetite for the climax; it was too much to bear. After she had her orgasm, she could go on without more for weeks.

“You feel so hard,” she moaned, gyrating her hips over my cock.

I smiled, disbelieving, “What the hell did you drink?” I feared someone would spring out from the curtains holding a camera, filming my ridicule.

She bit her lip and grinned, pressing harder into me.

I clumsily began to stimulate her clit with my middle finger. “You look so fucking sexy, Milena.”

She looked down at the moving digit between her legs, and replaced it with her own. Seeing her blatant arousal made me want to take her deeper, to make her go insane; I wanted my wife to lose control, to let go.

I rose to meet and kiss her neck, inching my way to her earlobes.

With hooded eyes, her breath shuddered. When it came to ‘weak spots’ I knew her neck was only second to her nipples.

“Please, I can’t, I can’t. Give it to me, please,” she begged.

It was music, and I wanted more.

My hands grabbed her thighs; I held her firmly, before I raised her—taking the thin sheet from between us—and pushed her bare pussy on top of the length of my naked shaft.

She exhaled at the velvet feeling of her slick labia kissing my cock, working back into her wanton rhythm.

I fed from her pleasure; and took it further, all the way up to her nipples, groping her breasts and stimulating her with my thumbs through the thin lingerie.

Her eyebrows contorted with lips ajar. “Yes…there, like that, pleease.”

“I can’t resist your tits in lingerie, I bet no one ever has.” I said, panting in excitement.

She took hold of my shoulders when her tempo grew in passion—and so did her range—rubbing the engorged hood of her clit with my glans. She kissed me again, hastily grabbing my cock, aiming to impale herself into climax and beyond, but something stopped her.

I too heard noise coming from the guest room. We froze, holding our breath, until the low rumbling stopped.

I thought I was frustrated, until I saw her face. I tried to read her, fearing the interruption had put out that fire in her gleaming green eyes.

“Looks like we woke someone up,” I grinned.

Catching her breath, she said, “Uh-huh, maybe my uncle.” Her eyes looked tired and vacant, fixed on the shared wall.

It would take some getting used to, this new privacy. Living here, alone, meant that we had the liberty to do whatever we wanted, when we wanted it. And we did.

After we moved in we were still in that sexual high of a new relationship, and with a wife as sexy as mine, I wanted to see as much as I could from her. Every week I would buy sexy pieces of lingerie or skimpy blouses, anything I could envision on her body while walking at the mall. She even got used to sleeping nude at my insistence in those days. We were at it like rabbits at the time.

Hoping to lighten the mood, I said, “We are gonna have to be a little more careful but, that felt amazing honey, you looked so sexy! Are you okay?”

I glimpsed a spark in her eyes at the ‘sexy’, but it didn’t take the disappointment off her face. Seeing how wild she was in bed I bet she was more than desperate for an orgasm.

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

“That was incredible, Milena.” I took her hand and pulled her close until she was lying on top of me. “Did today end up as you hoped?”

She turned to lay beside me and gave me one of her shy smiles. “Si, amor. I know this was very… rushed. My family is always like that. Thank you for everything today”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t even know until they were practically knocking at the door. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

She blinked in confusion.“Why? What did you think?”

This could be a delicate subject. Back in Colombia I learned that talking about family can easily blow out of proportion. I never felt that with Milena but I didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Well, with your uncle coming and everything… I was a little nervous. I think I didn’t get a very good first impression back when I met him.” I understated.

That seemed to soothe her expression. “You knew my uncle?”

“Well, yeah… I met him back when we—” I was surprised she didn’t remember such an episode. I sure as hell wasn’t going to forget it. “Back in Colombia. All those years back.”

“Really? Wow, when was that?” she said, obviously curious.

If she didn’t remember what her uncle had done to her, maybe it was best to leave it at that for the sake of this visit. She was a grown woman now.

He certainly still ogled at her—and her sister—, but I only noticed because I was looking for it, there was a chance it wasn’t as obvious as I thought. His neat clothes and fresh shaven face gave him a different look, an almost… decent appearance. He’d kept the goatee but he’d also managed to keep his body the same shape it was ten years ago, which was commendable for an old man of… what? Fifty…Sixty-something?

“It was a long time ago, I uh… don’t, remember the exact date. I do remember we didn’t get along.”

I stared at her areolae through the mesh lace, temptingly rising with her respiration.

“Hm.” She scoffed, nodding, “You are not the first, most of the boyfriends I’ve had never liked him,” her eyes reminiscent. “He’s only charming when he wants to,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Charming? I thought. That ugly, old man next room?

“Hmm, okay. Well, I probably just don’t know him well enough,” I said. My mind had left the conversation. My hand roamed under her nightgown. “What did you talk about after I left?”

Milena covered with the sheets and sat up. “About family. His new business and- you know, just catching up. He helped me clean and…” I could tell she was nervous.

I thought I would help her word what I’d imagined might happen with him coming to visit his ‘favorite niece’.

“Did he try to cop a feel?” I said. Now I was feeling anxious.

“No!” she hurried to answer.

Milena started to explain under a worried tone, “I mean– I wanted to talk to you about this, amor, listen. Ever since he saw me in the kitchen, he kept saying how pretty I looked and, complimenting my body as we talked – he is always like that with me so I’m used to it.”

I listened intently, trying to put on a comforting expression. My stomach tied into knots. She was hesitant to continue, her flushed cheeks were far more eloquent in the moment.

“So, after we finished, we left the dishes in the sink… Okay? So we were standing in the kitchen a-and, well– he kept saying how long it had been since the last time…the last time he saw me, and then he…he asked me, to show him, something.”—she took a deep breath avoiding my gaze—“He wanted me to show him my breasts.” She looked into my eyes sizing my reaction, before rushing to explain. “He’s always like that when he sees me. I obviously said no, but he just kept saying it was only a peek and…he kept insisting and, well…”

I opened my mouth, unable to respond momentarily, until I let out, “You flashed him your tits?” Spelling the words. Instead of feeling angry I actually couldn’t believe my wife had had done something so…naughty.

“It was only for a minute before I–”

“You flashed him your tits!” I repeated, completely shocked. Her story was well beyond what I had ever expected to happen.

Her hands gestured me in panic to keep our clandestine volume.

“Listen, I know how you liked these fantasies during sex, remember? We haven’t done it in a while but I thought maybe… I thought… Ay Dios,” she said, “did I just do something terrible?” Covering her mouth with both hands, suddenly realizing the scale of her little experiment.

I tried to reassure her with a concerned smile. “Whoa, hey, wait a minute, I’m not mad –look, everything’s fine.” My eyes fluttered side to side in their sockets as my mind tried to digest this. I didn’t know if it was the build-up of this whole day or this thing with her uncle, but I was so hard that I couldn’t move the conversation forward.

“I know it is completely different from acting in the bedroom, I should not have done that without your permission. I’m really, really sorry.” She apologized, her eyes watering, “I just thought about how things are right now, how we keep drifting apart over sex… It has been weeks now and we’re both so tense, you seem so…so unhappy, I just wanted to be someone different for you, someone…”

“Wait.” I raised my hand and stopped her.

I saw her pleading eyes and felt her desperation; this was getting out of hand. I needed a moment to think. I used every second of our silence to gather my thoughts.

I let out a sigh. “Well,” I scoffed, “I knew your uncle was a pervert, but it obviously runs in the family,” teasing her with a straight face.

She looked at me perplexed for several seconds before she allowed herself smile.

“Stop it… No, this is serious!” she said, playfully pushing me.

I held her hand and made a meaningful pause. I thought it was sad that she felt obliged to take things to this level by the state of our relationship.

“You’re right.” I took a deep breath before continuing, “I feel like it’s been months since we had any real intimacy, but, you know…now I know you miss our connection too.” I looked into her eyes and noticed her face reflected my own feelings. “I don’t know how many times we’ve talked about this and, well, I just thought you didn’t care anymore.”

She took my hand with both of hers and said, “Of course I care! I care about you! Mi vida, I have tried the internet, magazines, I had even looked into taking something. There had to be something I could take to make me more…more…you know. Something for my sex drive. I just don’t know what else to do.”

She looked miserable, but I was happy.

“You took a huge chance, Milena, that’s all I can see, and I’m not going to forget what you did for us.” I finished my thanks with a heartfelt smile. Looking back I can’t shake the obvious irony in thanking my wife for letting her uncle ogle at her tits but, when you have a problem for so long and there’s love in between, things can take the weirdest shapes and dimensions.

She nodded and smiled, wiping her teary eyes. I sighed relieved.

“So, you’re not mad?” she asked. “I–”

“WELL,” I said, never wasting an opportunity, “I probably wouldn’t have done exactly that if I were you, and certainly not with your uncle.”

Giggling hysterically, she said, “Shut up!” Hitting me with her palms as I got on top of her, laughing myself, sealing the new atmosphere in the room with a long, playful kiss.

“I love you.”


The kissing scaled with our temperature. I took the sheets off of her to find her nipples over her negligee.

“So, you showed these to that dirty old man, huh?” I asked, already panting in my pent up sexual haze.

She timidly nodded under me, biting her lip and opening her legs as I positioned myself to accommodate my cock on her bare pussy. “I bet he did more than watch in a whole minute, did you let him touch these sexy tits?”

She looked at me for a moment.

My insides boiled in anticipation of a confession. I chuckled softly, “Did you!?” Firmly grabbing both of her tits.

She whimpered, rapidly nodding again,“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

Hearing her response was like tasting a d**g for the first time. I could no longer breathe but through my mouth. Her hand was a white blur between her legs, masturbating her clit. Our arousal had reached a new level.

I hit the outside of her labia with my glans, teasing her repeatedly, but my cock-head pulsed painfully at the warmth of her glistening pussy – it was begging me to penetrate my wife.

“You liked showing your naked tits to your uncle? Didn’t you?” The words coming out of me began to feel alien and perversive; in my groaning tone I thought I sensed a hint of malice. I pulled her close to my lips; close enough to whisper, raising her until she leaned on her elbow, her hand busy abusing her clit in sexual reverie. “Didn’t you!?”

“I did, I did. Yes, YES! Papi. Give it to me please.” She whimpered in submissive desperation, green eyes wild and her hair falling over her face from the motion.

Easing my cock into her, I kept pushing her, hungry.

“Well if you let him do that I’m sure that old man was dying to taste them too.” I said, before I thrust almost my full cock into her, raising her feet into my shoulders. The force pushed her flat against the bed. “Are you going to let him suck your titties next time?”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God!” she moaned; I kept going. “Yes… Yes!”

“Are you gonna let your old uncle suck on your sexy tits!?” I panted, straining to keep a constant rhythm in my alienation.

“Hmm…” She whimpered, closing her eyes and biting her whole lower lip. She threw her head to the side. I changed my angle to hit her deeper but slower, stimulating myself with the button of her womb.

“AH!” She put her hand to my chest, immediately looking down at her belly. “Oh, you’re deep. Ooh you are so deep.”

“You want him to lick your tits, don’t you?”

She raised her eyes into mine, grunting with each thrust.

Her lashes fluttered. “He already did…he licked my nipples, papi. I let him suck on my tits as much as he wanted.”

I got more than I bargained for.

Imagining my perfect, submissive wife in the kitchen, quietly moaning with her cheeks flushing red on her unblemished skin, having her tits groped and sucked by her dirty old uncle—perhaps even rubbing his cock through his trousers—made me see black spots.

I pushed my whole weight on top of her. Her legs slid to each of my sides. My hands found the back of her knees, spreading her wide to pump her hard and deep.

I groaned into her ear, lost, mad for the first time in years, “Ooh my God, Milena! I’m gonna cum. Fucking take it, take my cum!”

She begged, both arms quickly embracing me in acceptance, “Yes! Give it to me! Inside, come inside me.”

And I came.

I pumped erratically hard – the electric shocks of each volley of cum going straight into the entrance of her womb made me see fireworks in my darkening vision. My upper body trembled with each jerk until I collapsed. My body and mind were empty.

It was the best orgasm of my life; of my entire fucking life.


I opened my eyes, slowly, making sense of where I was. Something moved under me.

“Hi there. Did you like that?” she smiled wickedly, “You owe me an orgasm, mi vida.”

I met her gaze in an awkward angle, still on top of her.

I had fallen for mere minutes, but I couldn’t grasp my consciousness. All the moments from our delirious sex kept coming back in pieces, like messages echoing in a distant mist.

“I’m sorry, amor. I came so quickly. It was… It was–”

Whatever I’d meant to say suddenly turned irrelevant. I couldn’t have had described it anyway.

Completing my groggy attempt at speech, she said, “I know. It really was.” Beaming with a calm satisfaction.

I had never felt so focused and relaxed, the world and it’s worries were…immaterial. Each and every detail in our room took my complete attention, as though the objects had come to life and had an interesting story to tell, much like pictures bring stories of their own.

Sadly, it wouldn’t last.

With the hormones leaving my body, I remembered the new dimensions of our privacy. I turned, getting my weight off, to lay in bed.

“Do you think they heard us?” I asked in a whisper (moronically pointless at the moment).

She tensed and sat up over the covers.

Other than the sex, I was afraid of having laid out my deepest fantasy to our visitors; I considered it one of my darkest secrets. It took years before I realized I even had it, and then some more to tell my wife. Even then, I didn’t fully understand it, so what someone else would think filled me with dread.

“There is no way my sister woke up. Believe me, we could be doing it beside her and she would never know,” she smirked. “My uncle…not so much.” She seemed suddenly embarrassed by the thought of her uncle listening to us. “He has like a radar for these things.”

“He could always tell when I had a boyfriend,” she continued, biting her thumbnail. I noticed this was the beginning of another of her stories about Colombia, but right now I had too much in my mind to pay her the attention she deserved. “Once, when I was getting out of high-school he…”

“Honey, honey, I’m sorry. I love your stories but-”

“No, you’re right! I’m sorry! I’m just a little nervous.” She took both hands in front of her mouth to warm them with shaky breath as the cold air kept creeping through the balcony door, the rail had been damaged months ago and it never fully closed since. “This day has been completely crazy, I don’t understand what happened. I shouldn’t have done that. What was I thinking?” I could see her starting to panic.

I held her in silence, still a little drowsy from the climax.

What did happen? By the way. I thought.

We had established that it was only a peek at first, but then her story kept escalating until I didn’t know what was true and what was fantasy. Did she really let her uncle have his way with her tits all that time she was downstairs? Or had it been really just a peek? And ‘He’s always like that with me’? What was that about?

In any case, it was clear than this experience was miles beyond anything we’ve ever done. Never, never had I ever expected this to happen in real life, but now, having had the kind of sex that you masturbate to…I didn’t want to think about it, but deep down I wondered if this wasn’t an answer to our problems.

“Milena, what you did today led to the best sex we’ve ever had. I’m also…I’m not sure of what happened but, didn’t you feel it too? We’ve never been like that, we were so close, so-so WILD. It was crazy. I think I can die today, smiling.” I said in honesty. My sincere admiration made her chuckle as she stared at me with her signature shy smile. “You know this is a thing of mine. I never thought we’d actually do it but… That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

She shook her head slowly, still smiling at me.“You know, I never in my life thought anyone could have a fantasy like this.” She raised one of her eyebrows, “You are kind of a pervert.”

Even after all these years her sexy accent still showed. I loved this woman.

“Hm. Well, I’d never seen you beg for my cum before, so I’d say you’re something of a pervert yourself, senorita.” I sentenced with a feigned arrogant smirk.

She gasped, smiling in incredulous surprise. “Oh my–!” She exclaimed. “Stop!” Her voice now cowering behind her palm.

Well this, this is definitely my wife, not the person I just had sex with, I thought, and definitely not the one who let herself get fondled by her uncle.

I still didn’t know if that part was true, but a stirring persuaded me to believe.


On the next day, I woke up to an empty house.

A clean, chilly wind ever creeping through the sliding balcony door, usually kept me from sound sleep (and that was only when I actually managed to sleep, thinking about money, bills, food) – not last night; I couldn’t remember ever closing my eyes.

Beating anxiety had been the name of the game for months; without my main job, our savings were everything. Now, even our modest life felt expensive; our money trickled away like grains on a sandwatch. I feared the checkout when shopping for groceries; the total always seemed to multiply exponentially, no matter how much I begged it to stop. If I stood alone, silent, I could hear them in my head: every grain, inching us closer to losing our way of life. But not today.

I had slept so well. It took me a couple seconds to figure out where I was and how I was positioned in bed. The usually gloomy, freezing day felt brighter and held the perfect excuse to cuddle with my wife under the covers before starting the morning, only, she wasn’t there.

When I stepped into the kitchen, hungry, I saw the microwave: 11 am.

What the fuck? I thought, I slept into noon?

I even had a dream. It was foggy; every time I tried to bring back the memory, only a fragment would allow itself to be reeled in, until there was nothing else to grasp. I remembered my wife; the contour of her face shrouded in mist, white skin in a dark fog that surrounded her parted lips glistening, inviting.

Milena’s hips accentuated a Latin ass that has had me begging God to get into for years. It could be somewhat concealed – under a plated skirt’s pattern, or some impossibly awful pants; but there was no escaping her lips. Pink, plump lips combined with her cute apparent innocence to drive me insane. They were impossibly soft. At rare, random times a simple conversation would make me want to take her right where she stood. Of course, I respected her own rhythm once I got to know it.

Well, almost always.


There was this one time in the car. I don’t remember why but, we were waiting in the driveway, talking, but my eyes were drawn to her rosy, full lips. My desire grew until my distraction was evident.

“What’s wrong?” said Milena.

I planted a deep short kiss on her lips, fumbling with my jeans, before grabbing the back of her head and slowly guiding her to my exposed dick.

“Oh!” she gasped, “Oka–”

Her head began to bob up and I set back on the seat. I was king of the world. She wasn’t very good, obviously inexperienced, but those damn lips and doing it in public more than made up for it.

Why can’t life be more like this?

I knew I wouldn’t finish with her hurried pace and the occasional teeth scrape, but I would make sure to savour every second until she stopped. I opened my eyes to see one of our neighbors, distant but walking in this direction through the sidewalk.

He puzzled me. I used to play a little game where I tried to guess where his body ended and his head started. He was an old, english, tall man—divorced I believe—with a peculiar, distinctive physique; his upper body had the shape of an egg. He was too broad in his center and always wore one too many clothes, which only accentuated the problem. This seemed to dwarf his head, nestled as it was, slightly too close to his chest. Paired with his long, surviving strands of silvering hair made it even more challenging to find his short neck. The top of his head was balding and he held on to the last strands that resisted his genetic agenda. For me, it was the only logical explanation as to why would anyone decide keep such a bizarre look; maybe he just let himself go years ago. Still, I don’t remember when was the last time I had not seen him lending a hand in the neighborhood – you needed him, he was there, and never have I heard of him charging anyone a dime.

He was walking to his house, right next to ours in his path, so naturally, my first impulse was to wrap things up, but I didn’t; I couldn’t. By then I’d long started to thirst for the taboo. My new fantasies were like a rebellious twitch against my comatose, boring (sex) life. I wanted to fuck in the back of an alley, I wanted to strap a vibrator into my wife and take her to a restaurant, I wanted to sodomize her in our balcony, to have sex in front of complete strangers; anything wild or forbidden, and this was my chance. Instead of hiding back my cock, I used my hand to encourage my wife’s fellatio, basking in the tingling anxiety of our possible exposure.

But I didn’t actually want my wife to be seen—or me—and I didn’t think she could get me to climax, but this was my first chance to cum inside her warm mouth; I had to do something.

I envisioned myself sitting in the living room – from the window you can see my car in the driveway. My wife had used it to bring groceries, but she’d arrived minutes ago. I got up to see my neighbor, standing next to the driver’s window, jerking his cock rapidly to my wife offering the sight of her bare tits to stimulate his release.

A shy smile complemented her nervous expression. She cupped her tits, staring at his cock and occasionally looking for passing cars.

She unconsciously licked her lips and playfully pinched her nipples, opening her mouth to let out a small moan. The forbidden nature of their act was adding heavily to her arousal.

He silently sped up his jerking.

My wife, straightening her back, leveled her tits to the head of his cock, pursing her lips with eyes shut in anticipation of his explosion.

Instead, the old man reached for the back of her head and pulled her surprised, reluctant face to his purple head, gently but inexorably, until her nose stuck to his graying curly pubes.

She lays her hands on both sides of his slowly thrusting hips, mouth full but uncertain, and closed her eyes again, accepting rope after rope of his cum, swallowing again and again during a ten seconds climax.

With the image of my wife’s slutty, consenting mouth, I finally came. I could see that our neighbor had gotten pretty close to us, still on the sidewalk. I figured that he couldn’t see Milena from that angle. That was until she raised her head.

She opened her door to spit my cum into the grass—never leaving her seat—and cleared her throat to say, “Wow, that felt like a lot. Did you like it? Was it good?” wiping a lucid string from her lip.

“Yes honey, thanks. I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable for you, I know that you aren’t used to this sort of thing.” I was unreasonably afraid she’d discover the perverse thoughts I had had throughout her blowjob, but she’d returned to her phone.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” she said.

I glanced at our moving, single-manned audience – if he noticed the sexiest woman in the neighborhood suspiciously raising from my lap, he didn’t show it. He passed us and went straight into his house.

I felt uneasy. The thought of my neighbor watching my wife sucking cock lingered: I needed to know. I walked to stand in the sidewalk, facing the driveway. I’d thought that Milena would be hidden under the driver’s door, but from where I was standing you could clearly see the entire steering wheel because of the driveway’s angle.

My orgasm had ended, but my heart was still racing. That was the first (and only) time I’d had a full blowjob—and in public, no less—from Milena, albeit taken, not given. Still, what we had done, and the idea of our hermit neighbor watching my wife’s head tossing up and down in my lap… I was gonna get hard again if I wasn’t careful.

Then, I leaned into the driver’s windows to look at Milena. For some reason, a part of me had been slightly… insulted, at her spitting my semen, but this irked me; Milena was indifferent. Calm as ever with her phone, browsing who knows what, as though nothing had happened at all.

God knows I’ve tried it all, I thought. Sex is good—if a little traditional—so, what is the problem?

Something pulled me out of my brooding though. There was no way this was a cold breeze’s doing – we were in summer, I was sweltering. Maybe my wife was too stubborn to let herself feel excited about our little adventure, but her nipples didn’t lie.

I couldn’t hold my grin.


The backdoor’s lock rattled. My eyes went from my phone on the kitchen table to Milena. She had a tank top and jeans – with only a small, short cardigan to guard her, she seemed more than glad to escape the cold in her rush. It wasn’t much warmer in here.

“Uy, que frio hace por Dios!” she said, “Hola, mi amor.” I’d heard more spanish in the last 24 hours than in the past 12 months combined. I loved that accent.

“Yeah I know, I’ll turn on the…”

My eyes squinted.

They look bigger than usual, I thought. And they jiggled, hypnotizing—as Milena rapidly rubbed her palms to gather what she could from the friction—and crowned with her tenting nips. I wondered how the butterfly felt on her necklace, glimmering gold and nestled in heaven.

“Ahm… Yeah, winter. It’s kinda early this year,” I said.

“And COLD. It’s never been like this before. I know we’re saving but no way, just no way, we have to turn it on. We can cut something else,” she said. “Do you think it will snow? I would really like to see that. Just from the inside though, from like, far away.”

“Don’t think so. Honey, If you were so cold, why did you only wear that tiny sweater?”

“I don’t like the others, this one is so comfy,” she said, rubbing her arms with a sweet smile.

“Well, You could have borrowed one of my sweaters or two. Or maybe one of your sister’s. I mean, she hadn’t even unpacked and you’d already taken her pants,” I teased her.

She raised one of her eyebrows, “It was a gift, okay?”

With her arms crossed under her tits they looked even better in that slim tank top. The new tension on her shirt showed the shade of her areolae under the kitchen light.

“You said borrowed.”

“No, I didn’t.” She sentenced, pretending to be distracted with something else.

“Okay,” I said, holding a chuckle.

I noticed her black polished toenails in wedged sandals, and a golden heart on her anklet as she opened the fridge looking for nothing in particular. “You’re even wearing sandals?”

“Yes…?” she said, artificially absentminded.

“You look really sexy today.” I commented.

That lit her whole face as she turned and said, “Thank you, mi vida. I wanted to,” smiling proud.

“It’s freezing though.”

“Well come and hug me,” she said, taking both her tank top and sweater in one swift movement.

My throat dried up so fast I wheezed a ‘Holy fuck’.

My body moved, completely caught in her sexual spell. I warmed my hands with her jean covered ass while my mouth went straight into her tits, wanting to taste every single inch of them, of her body.

I turned her back to me, holding her very close, pawing away at her breasts and nipples, slowly grinding on her ass.

“That was so fucking hot Milena,” I said. “What’s got you so naughty today?” She closed her eyes and laid back her head on my shoulder; now I had free view of her cupped pair. “Milena… Your tits look so fucking big right now.”

The fresh, fruity smell of her hair and the enticing warmth of her flesh were like water on a desert journey; only they wouldn’t sate my thirst – one thing would, certainly, for several minutes and in several positions.

She smiled with satisfaction and purred, “Hmm… Yeah, they’re a little bigger today. I’ve also been so horny all day; it has to be my period. It’s due.”

They’d usually get a little ‘swollen’ as she called it (I called it ‘Goddamn’), but if there was another bonus I would thank God no questions asked.

“Oh yeah? So this little pussy’s wet because of that?” I muttered rhetorically under her ear, feeling her camel toe over her jeans.

“I think so… You know what that means, too?” she moaned, rubbing my cock over my pants.


Milena raised her hand to the back of my neck and whispered into my ear, “That you can cum inside me as much as you want until I get my period.”

My eyes went white in anticipation. “Oooh my God yes, Milena.”

“Would you like that?” she whispered, nibbling my earlobe.

“You’re being such a hot little slut today honey,” I said, panting.

“Yeah. I even touched myself a little in the car.”

“Yeah…?” I repeated in a whisper. Her words kept testing my sanity; I’d been fighting the impulse to fuck her nude on the balcony.

“Uh-huh…” Milena turned whole to face me. “Just outside in the driveway, too. I had been so hot all day. I just couldn’t resist it anymore, papi,” she said, opening her jeans and grabbing my hand to stimulate her clitoris in stiff circles over her black panties.

“I love those,” I muttered. Looking back at her, a little, distant part of me felt…uneasy.

Her dark green eyes shimmered over the gray palette of the cloudy, winter afternoon as she smiled wickedly. “Want to see how they look today?”

I nodded slowly, without thinking, while she raised one of her elegant, beautiful feet into a chair to unstrap her black, toe wedged sandal. Inside her bag, her phone rang with a text and I got my brain back to think for a moment during the pause of her display.

Milena was prone to be careless. I was afraid of who might’ve seen my wife’s ‘private’ session.

“Did anyone see you out there, in the car?”

“Hmm, No. I don’t think so…” She was struggling with the other sandal. The pin in the tight strap refused to come out of its hole. “I’m not sure,” she said, a little agitated.

Her phone was ringing again – a phone call. The pin kept slipping from her finger with the obnoxious ringtone in the background. She refrained from using her nails—probably to preserve the manicure—but she was obviously losing her patience. Just before I offered to help she finally released the stubborn strap with a forceful twist to answer the phone. She spoke only twice before hanging up and moaned; we both knew the momentum had been lost. It was the second time we had been interrupted in less than 24 hours.

“Who was that?”

“My uncle,” she said. “About what time to pick him up. I’ll need the car again.”

The contempt in her voice didn’t match a simple, inopportune phone call.

“Of course,” I said. “Are you okay? Did something, happen, this morning?”

She leaned to pick up the small mingled pile of her clothes.

“Oh my God. Don’t even ask, just– don’t.” She sighed, “I’m sorry.”

I was confused; Milena was usually the cheerful one. I was so focused on how I’d been feeling that I’d assumed she had had a good day.

“It’s okay… I uh…” I started a sentence but I didn’t really know how best to help her.

“Can you just please turn on the oven?” she said.

“The furnace, honey. I’ll…turn on the furnace,” I automatically corrected. “I mean yes, I’ll be right back.” It could take hours before we were comfortable with the temperature.

“I am going to bed,” she said plainly.

I watched her turn on the stove, her tits still bare, to brew up some coffee before I head downstairs into the small basement.

I met with the metal square that was responsible for heating up the whole house. Only that, a small table and the washing machine populated the space, along with a couple of rusty chairs. Whatever you threw in there would ultimately succumb to corrosion and oblivion.

It was silent. There was a tiny window connected to the garage, but the amount of junk we’d been bombed with by relatives over the years—a sea of unmarked boxes and half used products of all kinds—made parking the car inside a dangerous game for the painting. The only reason Milena would go there would be to dream it either gone or set on fire, so down here, it was you and the occasional, random mechanical noises from the furnace.

My father was great, but had failed to teach me many things, and among them were all things electric. Now, the furnace was stupidly easy to operate, yet somehow I dreaded these encounters anyway. Perhaps it was mere superstition, but if it were to break at this time it would be a real house life tragedy. We simply could not afford to make a mistake right now.

With the flick of a switch my ‘work’ was done. I anxiously waited for the mechanical chirping before it soothed me. I imagined its warmth spreading through the walls, enjoying the tranquility in this dark room, concealed and indifferent to the outside world. I relaxed, and my mind drifted until it found my wife again. I pictured one of my wife’s feet on the dashboard of our car, her legs wide open in wanton display, masturbating in the driver’s seat, to any one of my neighbors to see.

My dick grabbed me by the hand (for a change) and set me to find Milena upstairs.


I climbed up the creaking planks to see her standing by the gap on the door, conversing to a man. I couldn’t see him with my wife standing barefoot between us, but his haircut gave him right away. I was sure I’d pick up his typical accent if I listened closely.

Ever since the blowjob incident, my neighbor found himself in the exact moment, at the right place to reach out and talk to my wife. I’ve been attentive. He didn’t leer or try to flirt in any way, I never caught him glancing at her cleavage or– anything; it was strange. As though he simply enjoyed conversing with a neighbor; which, well, he was. I thought perhaps the internet and my fantasies had twisted my perception.

In time I concluded he was lonely. A single man—never remarried—with no kids that we knew, who nurtured and relished every real contact he could get into. It was sad to think that after all he had done for his community the only person that was there for him was an elderly nurse from downtown. She helped him with meals—two days of sick leave were testimony to his culinary skills—among other things, but Milena guessed it was really just to make him company. He still looked strong enough and independent for a man his age.

My wife giggled politely and said goodbye. I don’t know for how long I’d been down there, but she looked slightly disoriented; disheveled, as thought she’d been caught in her sleep.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Who else could it be,” she said, muttering. Milena had a point, we rarely had visit. “Ugh, I was just having the best nap ever.”

I saw it, I just didn’t know how to address the ‘bumps’ in the room.

“Umm… Honey, your uh…” I said, pointing at her tank top.

“What?” she looked down to see that the cold had worked on her nipples. “So? They’re nipples, they get hard. You too have two you know? I’m just so tired of having to–”

“No, no Milena.” I stopped her, surely about to carry on and on about women’s objectification. “The…The outline of your um…”

She finally noticed her left areola, wrinkled with the winter breeze and showing over the seam of her shirt. The flexible fabric had stuck under her breast. It probably didn’t budge when she tried to adjust the shirt.

How do they not notice these things? I wondered. Although I was certainly not going to ask in her current mood; good choice too.

She stared at me in panic. “Ay Dios mio! Ay no! And I have been talking to him–I must have been there for li-like a whole ten minutes, I… And all this time he could see it!” exclaimed Milena. “Oh my God this day just can’t get any worst,” she said, covering her face with her hands.

“Worse, honey.”


She raised her head with vengeance in her eyes. In other circumstances the intensity behind her green would have been captivating, but in that moment I knew I’d made a big mistake.

“I need some air,” she said. Anger fuming through her motions.

I gently grabbed her by the arm, frantically trying to speak, “Wait, no, no I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She slowly turned to me and I continued. “I just don’t know where this is coming from. Why are you so upset? I mean, there’s a lot of reasons to be upset about but, which one? Is it just this?” I said pointing at the door as her eyes swelled with tears.“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. Talk to me, amor.”

The faint smell of burnt coffee hit my nose and I immediately ran to turn off the stove.

“God… The coffee. I’m sorry,” she said, lying on the couch. Milena looked completely beat.

“Don’t worry about it.” I said, frowning worried.

“It’s just that, today. Today was a lot, a lot happened. The day has been a disaster,” she said.

“How come?”

“Well. First, I awoke to my uncle’s boxer covered…thing dangling in my face when he shook me awake. Not like, gently, by the way. I don’t know how you slept through that. He informed me that I had to drive him somewhere and now. He could’ve at least told me last night, but no, everything’s like that with them,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“That was rude,” I agreed.

“Yeah.” She said, wiping tears. “And then we spent the whole morning looking for an address, me starving. But no, the best part, guess what: he had copied it wrong. We had been circling around the stupid building for half an hour! It’s near that old butcher’s shop, the one with the big hook in the front? The same block.”

“Near that place with the creepy dolls.”

“Right. So we get out of the car and he tells me to wish him luck and what not; he had like a business meeting in there, I don’t know. He was really nervous. I’m already stressed but I do my best to smile. Really, after the morning he’d put me through I just kind of wanted to punch him in the face. So I lean to peck him on the cheek and, out of nowhere, he said, ‘I’m gonna need more luck’ and kissed me on the lips. ”

I was dying inside but I kept my face straight. I knew something would come up, although I didn’t really know what to expect.

“Jesus…” I said.

“Yeah! Full. Blown. Kiss. RIGHT on the street. There were people walking by us! We used to buy our meat there not so long ago. The owner knows me, I’ve seen people from our neighborhood buy their food in there. I was in shock. He kept going on and on until I pushed him. I was so mad… We had a really bad fight. People stared at us with all the yelling and the spanish. He can be such an ASSHOLE sometimes.”

I had a hard time keeping my mind from picturing the scene. An erection right now would be as inappropriate as kissing your uncle in a busy street, or any street really.

“No kidding.” I said.

“Then, I come home all hot and horny with my period screwing with my hormones, and started to…to touch myself a little, in the car. I close my eyes for a moment and next thing I know, there he is; the neighbor I mean, coming my way – I’m starting to think that he waits for us under the fence.”

For you, I thought.

“I SWEAR: if I hear about England one more time, I’ll go crazy. I’ll go crazy! I feel like I live there already.” Milena had dubbed our neighbor Mr. English. His country was his favorite topic in conversation. Really, the man always found time to talk about his beloved England; when he lived in London and how beautiful it was. “So I panicked and practically ran into the backyard like, crouching—I don’t know why I did that, I mean, he could obviously see me— and almost slipped. Everything is so wet. I think I broke one of the thingys on the sandal. These are my favorites.” She said with a sad voice, picking up one them from the floor.

“Yeah…they look really good on you,” I said with my most sympathetic tone.

“And I’m not even sure if he saw what I was doing in the car. But, I mean, this street is always empty, always in silence, it had to be today that he ran into me,” she said. Her voice was still full of emotion. Her whole day had really been a mess.

I got up and offered her a bit of rum, which I’d found to be the only thing I left. A gift from a former client that had been sitting on the shelf for years – the bottle was dusty but the design was elegant. My wife hated strong drinks but she gulped it down with ease.

“After that, I get inside, and it’s even COLDER than outside…did you turn on the heat?”

“Yeah! It just takes a while, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. So I get inside try to be sexy and my uncle calls. I mean, UGH!” she exclaimed.

I felt sympathetic, and amused. “I know–”

“No, no. And the cherry on the top? My sixty year old neighbor, who probably saw me touching myself in the car ALSO saw my tit.”

I served her a second glass, half full this time, and she took it down gladly while my mind processed all that she’d said in such a short span. I put the bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch and sat beside her.

“Well…” I took a deep breath before I said, “It’s a really nice tit though.”

That got her laughing. I loved that sincere happiness.

“I’m sorry you had such a shitty day. I had no idea, I woke up like, trying to make out which way was up after the sex last night.” I smirked.

She was blushing. Her hand tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes. It was amazing. Hey, you owe me–”

“An orgasm, yeah.” We both laughed. I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Look, I knew this would be…tricky, I just didn’t think it to be so difficult for you too. Your family is, well–they can be rude at times, but maybe–”

“That’s not all,” she said, raising her hand and sighed. “You know what? I think it’s enough for today, we can talk about it in the morning.”

“Right. Okay. Where’s your sister by the way?”

“Probably asleep, with the jet lag,” she said. “I saw her this morning – she must’ve been starving. I gave her my breakfast before I went out.”

Yeah, I thought. Why did the old man had no jet lag?


While a drive alone with my uncle-in-law was right next to drinking water from a drain in the top ten of things I didn’t want to do, I wanted her day to end well.

I parked in front of the building. An inconspicuous square of gray bricks, three stories tall in the west (old) part of town, surrounded by local shops, fruits and vegetables on the shelves out the front and a cafe.

Alone, I thought about the nerve of this guy. To make out with his married niece, right here on the street… I couldn’t understand how a man of his age could behave that way with a b***d relative. It was the kind of thing you’d read on the internet; a dark scandal coming from a distant, twisted corner of the world. I’d never thought I’d see it myself.

And Milena.

I’d seen her evade my sexual innuendos for petty things like, the clothes she was wearing at the moment, the amount of time we had – once, because of the lighting. Why was she so passive with this dirty old man? Did she really not get that he was being overtly sexual? Did she think he was harmless?

Something told me I had to cut this visit short and wash my hands off of this mess.

I loved my wife. I wanted her only for myself. Our relationship was straining, but I wanted to fix things properly: go to therapy, grow, change together. But there was a part of me; the worst part of me… The truth was, I’d never had such great sex before. It reminded me of the first time I came inside a girl. Even so, no edging, no POV, no games or stories came close. Life here was nice and easy—we were struggling with money—but soul-sucking dull. I felt as if someone had picked a random day in my week and played it on repeat. This had been the most exciting thing that had happened in my life since Colombia.

I couldn’t shake the image of my wife’s tits being groped, fondled and licked, or her luscious innocent lips corrupted in a public kiss. I couldn’t shake her words: ‘he’s always like that with me’. What did that mean? What had they done before?

I noticed my hand over my cock and let go. That’s when the man came out of the building, talking to his phone and heading for the wrong car.

I scoffed at his mistake and chuckled. “What is he doing?”

He got into the passenger door and the van drove. I got out of my car, bewildered and confused.

“Hm.” My tongue slid through my molars as I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

“What a fucking prick.”


I got to the house first, after a long drive.

Cruising through the city’s dusk was one of the small pleasures of my life. Feeling the cold wind coming through the window as I traversed under the orange lights, downtown brimful of nightlife, always made me feel younger and hopeful.

I went upstairs to check on my wife, but she was behind locked doors with her sister.

I took the opportunity to take some of the edge off on my bedroom, cautiously alert. About an hour of short videos later I heard their door. I’d ordered pizza when my smiling wife came into the bedroom, excitedly shaking a bag of clothes.

“Hola, mi amor! How did it go? Where’s my uncle?”

She had changed into some yoga pants and a different tank top, white too, but with very small straps. I didn’t know women’s clothing but it looked like something they’d wear in summer, not in a poorly heated house in deep winter. The furnace was taking it’s sweet time.

“Hi… It was fine, he actually left with someone else so, I have no idea. I thought he’d be here.” I shrugged.

“What!? With who?” she said, confused as I was when I saw it.

Let it go, I said to myself.

I had just masturbated to a naughty scene of my wife—her gorgeous meaty latin ass and thighs starred—so, naturally I came really hard. I was swimming in a tiny pool of orgasmic bliss from where my problems seemed even smaller. “I don’t know. He got into a van and left,” I said.

Milena was outraged. “Wha– That’s unbelievable! That is just…”

“I know. I was like, ‘seriously?’ ” I said, more interested in the bag on her hand. “What’s that?”

Her face lit up instantly. “Oh yes! Look look look,” she said, giggling like a c***d on a snowy school day as she skipped closer. “I got a huuge pack of clothes this time. The only thing we can’t share are bras ‘cuz she’s a ‘B’ and, well, panties because I’m bigger there too– I got a lot of other pieces! Look, honey, isn’t it beautiful?” her eyes sparked at the tiny red blouse she was holding.

“Yeah, yeah it’s, umm…” I scratched my chin, unsure of how to continue.

“And there is a lot of other stuff too,” she said with a playful tone, suggestively raising her eyebrow at a small pile of lingerie at the bottom.

“You don’t need new clothes, right honey? This is all just for fun, right?” I never understood my wife’s passion for swapping clothes with other girls.

She chuckled softly and said, “Yes, yes, don’t worry. I have everything I need with you,” giving me a peck on the lips. We both heard her belly grumble for attention. “Oww! Jesus, I’m starving.”

“Already ordered some pizza.” I said, distracted my phone.

“Nice,” she stared past me and said, “did you uh…?”

I had thrown the paper towel in the bin after my deed.

“Yeah.” I said, uncomfortable.“I’ve been really aroused since last night. With the thing with your uncle and the sex…and then today again with the kiss…it’s been too much.”

“Oh.” I saw her eyes flicker, reliving the moments. “You mean when I showed him my tits?” she smirked. “You mean when I let him suck my nipples in the kitchen last night? Or when he explored my mouth with his tongue for a whole minute in the sidewalk this morning?”

She was blushing. Her demeanor oozed a dense lusty mist.

Maybe Milena was too naive or obstinate to connect the dots, but this definitively turned her on too, and faster that I’ve never seen before. There was no way to blame this on that time of the month.

She crawled on top of me and kissed my lips, putting my hands over her breasts. They felt wonderful as ever, bare under her sister’s tank top thing. The shirt was maybe one size too small, for its cleavage was obscene.

“For a whole minute?” I repeated in coarse whisper between kisses.

“Mm-hmm,” she purred, slowly nodding. “Maybe more.” I grabbed as much of her leggings and squeezed hard while our tongues met.

“God…Milena.” I moaned as I envisioned their incestuous kissing.

She smiled and started to rub my cock over my jeans. I wished I’d changed into my shorts.

“You know, I was going to talk to him in private, later. About what happened today.” She ran her fingers through my arm. “Maybe he would like to see them again to make up,” she whispered, cupping her bulging tits. “To lick them and touch them. Maybe he’d like to see more… Would you like that?”

“Ooh my God,” I moaned.

I was on the verge of trembling by mere words. Her long dark hair grazed my hands on her ass. She nibbled on my earlobe and kissed my neck as pause to her teasing.

Milena took my hand and placed it over her mound. “Maybe he would like to touch me down here, should I let him?”

“Oh…yes…” I said. She could have asked me for anything at that moment. I’d lost control. I wouldn’t have said no.

“Yeah?” she moaned, unzipping my cock.


“You want my uncle to put his…fingers inside me?”

“Fuck! Yess.” My head was starting to spin, I had to remember to breathe. She was holding my gaze as she stroke me slowly but intently.

“But I’ll be naked then,” she said, faking a pout and pulling the waistband at the front, to show me she wasn’t wearing anything under it. “He’s always had a thing for me. Maybe he’ll want to do more to me, to my pussy.” She ground her covered slit at the base of my shaft to the rhythm of her hand as she stroke the tip.

“Fucking hell,” I grunted. “Then you come back here and I’ll fuck you senseless while you tell me everything.” I was close, I sensed it.

“Mmm-hmm, yes…”

I was saved by the bell on the main door.

A small part of me was thankful. I wasn’t used to being putty in my wife’s hands, and I was afraid of where would all this lead to; of what I would say. Although I could tell she wasn’t much more in control herself. I heard the bell ring at the entrance a second time before I gathered the strength to let go of her. I left her to receive the pizza downstairs but not before putting all my intentions into my palm and slapped her ass.

I opened the front door and found the thin, pale young man holding the stack of pizzas, mildly shaking at the night’s breeze. He looked fragile and tired, more so than usual. I don’t know why, but I gave him a big tip and he thanked me with an indecisive nod.

I was closing the door when I noticed that Milena’s uncle was outside, leaning against the open window of the same van he got into this afternoon, casually chatting with the driver. It looked like he had been there for a while before he said goodbye.

The van took off and the old man caught up with the delivery guy, tipping him again.

Even when he’s nice he still manages to be a dick, I thought.

“How was your meeting?” I asked him sarcastically.

“Hello, uuh… Work very good, yes.” He said, obviously ignorant that I spoke his language.

“Greeat…” I said, scanning his face for an expression, any hint at all; I wasn’t sure if he was aware I knew what he had done to Milena. I expected arrogance but I thought I saw something more akin to remorse. Perhaps he was just self-conscious, constantly alert of my moves. I mean, I did want to punch him. “Come inside, there is pizza.” I added, shaking the boxes.

“Thank you thank you.” He said, grabbing one and rushing past me. Not once did he look me in the eye.

I didn’t know if he respected me, felt guilty or was simply afraid. He was shorter than me but, even though he was fat he had more of a dad bod than he was morbidly obese, it looked to me that he could definitively take a punch. Whatever it was, I preferred this over a presumptuous smirk.

I saw him tiredly stride up the stairs and shut himself with the whole box into the guest room.

I’m not getting that box back.

I looked around and turned off the lights—seeing nobody down there with me—went up and opened the door to my room to find Valerie and Milena, excitedly chattering in Spanish. I felt like I was prying, so engaged as they were.

“Hi, brought pizzas.” I said, not expecting her to be seating in bed almost completely covered in my sheets.

“Hi. Ay, que rico si.” Valerie moaned. “Thank you, is tasty for me.”

Now that she had relaxed and eaten properly, I met her true self for the first time. She was very different from Milena—she was also friendly and accessible—more expressive and forthcoming. Her voice was young, feminine and mellow, and something under her voice reminded me of the singing of a nightingale.

“De nada. Te gusta mucho?” I asked her. She stopped mid-way from grabbing a box and stared at me as if I had cussed in a church. “Yo puedo hablar espanol” I explained.

We laughed and from then on we continued on their mother’s language, it was good practice and my wife looked proud and happy.

I learned of the lives of both Valerie and Milena. From funny stories and previous relationships to even local myths and urban legends. She talked a lot; it was like speaking to a perpetually nervous Milena. As straightforward as Valerie was, she told us about how she’d lost her virginity in an abandoned building among the rubble, back in Colombia.

‘It was so romantic’ she’d said sarcastically.

Really ironic, though, was that now I knew all the details about Valerie’s first time, but not Milena’s.

From what she’d said I got a glimpse of what this generation was dealing with. From that perspective our lives were paradise. It’s so easy to forget how much you have looking for what you want. Life in Colombia was hard now. It had been years, but back then I was just visiting, and I could spend money as I saw fit. Even though the conversation was mostly cheerful and reminiscent, by the time Valerie left the room I was exasperated. I wanted to help her. It seemed unfair that such a beautiful girl with so much potential had to deal with so much shit just because she’d been born there.

“So, what do you think?” Milena said.

“Um… What? About what?”

“My sister.”

“Oh! Oh she’s nice yeah. Did you have fun talking to her? It’s been years… ” I said.

“Yeah, a lot of catching up to do,” she answered absentmindedly. “Listen, remember that thing I wanted to talk to you about?”

Her phone vibrated with a text. She stared at it and reread it confused.

“What?” I asked cautiously. It was pretty late and texts after a certain hour rarely brought good news.

“Nothing. It’s my sister. Just a favor I asked her earlier, let me check. Are you going to eat that?” she said, pointing at the pizza left. I said no and she took it with her outside, closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with my phone.

What did she want to talk about?


Thirty long minutes passed. I sent a text to my wife – I did trust her to be honest, but more often than not she’d understate the weight of certain events, and that face earlier didn’t exactly put my fears to rest. What was that thing that she wanted to discuss? I was anxious.

Somewhere under the covers her phone vibrated with my message, so I set out to find her. I had to know what was so serious. She’d made a big deal out of it.

I opened the door as quietly as humanly possible – at night you could hear a pin drop in the kitchen from upstairs (although it didn’t work the other way around). I heard noise as I tip toed to the next door and noticed a faint, blue flashing hue coming from downstairs. I silently turned off the light of the hall and stood at the top of the stairs, partially covered by the wall as I spied into the living room.

There they were; Milena and her uncle, cuddling in front of the TV.

My mind reeled with questions. Had they had the ‘talk’? They’d obviously made up already. I had a burning sensation in my abdomen and my dick was swelling.

He sat straight into the back of the couch while she was nestled sideways into his chest, her delicate bare feet laying comfortably on the cushion. His right arm casually circled Milena over her shoulder but I couldn’t see much more beyond his receding hairline.

I crouched for better view. The first thing I noticed was his right hand. The fucker had had it completely inside her tank top all this time, toying with her tit while staring at the screen.

I’ve had so many fantasies. So many. I never thought about how I’d feel. Anxiety, shock, and an ungodly amount of arousal. Pillow talk and fantasies were like c***d’s play compared to actually watching it. It was so intense I’d lost my breath.

I couldn’t understand their Spanish over the indistinct chatter on the movie, but I heard my wife make a comment and his response made them both burst in muted laughter. As their laughter died, he said something that made her nervously smile. He looked down and talked again, making two bowls of his hands to gesture how big her tits were. She unconsciously cupped her breasts and chuckled, looking down as if to check his perspective.

The old man pointed at her slim top, motioning down.

Her breathing paced up. She glanced at my direction and pulled the top of her shirt forward, giving him a peek of both tits. He leaned in exaggeratedly, cat-calling them by his tone, before she let go of the cotton-ish seam. It clung back to her chest, only now a little stretched and loose.

My dick was already in my hands, throbbing painfully and pulsing. I didn’t even think about the blatant danger of jerking off in the hallway—Valerie’s door was three steps back—but I wouldn’t have cared. Being that hard, only her pussy would sate me, but I couldn’t wait.

They exchanged a few words while he snuck his hands to pinch and graze her nipples through the thin cotton fabric. Milena laid her hands on his wrists with a scolding frown. After a couple seconds she took hold of his hands and let go, cuddling back to their movie.

I contemplated fetching my cellphone, to record the whole thing for later use. I saw them still engrossed in the screen and took the chance, tip toeing like a little k*d, approaching the door at turtle speed. When I tried to open it the hinges squeaked.

Fuck, fuck.

A draft from the open balcony door usually put some negative pressure on the door, making it harder to open than it was to close. I checked on the guest room door for any sound and returned my position.

The dirty old man was standing, looking at his phone with his back to the TV, occasionally raising it to his ear as if listening to audio.

What’s he doing?

His head sunk with his phone still to his ear, and nodded in trance. Milena was completely focused on him. He threw his phone into the couch and raised his hands, excitedly shaking them in victory with my wife standing up to share his exploding enthusiasm.

I heard him say in Spanish something like, ‘I made it, we made it for fuck’s sake’, shouting a whisper, before he held and spun my wife around in glee. He let her down and gave her a peck on her smiling lips. She let him do it again, giggling, and again.

I glanced back and took my dick out again to resume.

The old, round man took a deep breath and sat down. I decided to take a couple steps down to see if I could listen to the conversation. Milena sat next to and facing him with her legs crossed under her frame. They talked a bit more, ignoring the TV before Milena set the volume down.

Nice, honey.

“Mile, I never thought I’d see this day,” said the chubby old man. “I’m finally getting what I’m owed.”

Milena smiled warmly at his satisfied grin. “It’s amazing, Uncle. When do you start?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. I need a favor. You have to drive me, you see?” he looked at her sideways with his hands on the back of his head, easing comfortably into the couch.


“Good, good,” he said, turning to face my wife. “Another thing, Mile.” She looked at him attentively. “Tomorrow is the most important day of you uncle’s life, get it? The most IMPORTANT of his life. Everything has to go my way, so I’ll need all the luck in the world.”

She innocently agreed with him.

He smiled at her body. His round hairy frame got closer.

“Yeah? You’ll give your uncle a lot of luck?”

She tried to reply, “Of course–” before she gasped. He leaned and kissed her with an open mouth, easing his tongue between my wife’s perfect lips. Milena moaned a protest with her hands to his chest while her cheek bulged with his swirling tongue. He assaulted her mouth for minutes, groping her tits under the small tank top…thing, barely letting her breathe, until there was no more complaining. When he broke the kiss, Milena moved away from him, panting and licking her lips clean of his saliva aided by her trembling fingers.

I don’t remember what I thought in that moment. I remember feeling guilty… I remember I stood unnaturally still and that it was hard to breathe.

“Hmm…that was delicious, you taste so good,” he groaned.

“Okay,” Milena said, catching her breath, “you’ve had your…luck. You can’t just kiss me like that. I’m married, okay? Things are just different now.” Sentenced Milena, looking my way a couple times. I didn’t think she could see me in the dark with the TV’s glare.

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “But it’s such a special day, mi amor,” he said. “Your Uncle is so happy. Can’t you at least show him the twins again?”

She held his begging stare with an unreadable expression, constantly glancing at me. Her eyes fluttered as she hesitantly raised her shirt over her magnificent breasts; the dim light of the television made their sight so much more erotic. She put her hair behind her ear, holding the shirt in place as her uncle chuckled softly and groaned. He sat closer and brazenly touched, caressed and squeezed her sexy tits.

Lost in his molestation, his voice coarse said, “They’re big. You’ve grown, little niece.”

“It’s my period. Ah!” she moaned softly as he pinched hard on one of her peaks.

“Blessed be the nature,” he replied, burying his face into her mounds, licking her viciously and covering both of her teats. Her whole areolae glistened to the light in the dark room.

“Uncle… They’re really sensiti– Ah!” moaned my wife. She covered her mouth and checked for witnesses.

I was edging. I had to. That was the most blatantly erotic scene I’d ever seen and I wasn’t going to cum until the end. I couldn’t fathom why or how could she possibly enjoy having this done to her by an old dirty fat man like him (ignoring that they were related), but I assumed that the sexual tension had gotten to her – I could count the amount of times we’ve had sex sans her cumming with my two hands.

It should have been that simple.

The old man, on the other hand, was living the best day of his life. He lapped at her lusciously pale tits in front of the dim white light in deep passion, eliciting the occasional moan and whimper from my reluctant wife. Compared to when he had started, she now had thrust her chest out and was gripping the cushion within an inch of its life, biting her lip through the sexual torment.

He let go of her body with a huge grin. “Alright, you’ve made your Uncle a happy uncle. Let’s finish the movie. Important day tomorrow, right?”

She looked exhausted and disoriented. “Yeah, okay,” she seemed to whisper. A good part of her tits were shiny with her uncle’s spit. At his cue, she cuddled up to him without putting her shirt back on, instead holding it tight between her breasts.

It didn’t take long for her uncle to set his pudgy paw back on her breast. He stroked and grazed her nipples very lightly with a wet thumb, pausing every thirty seconds or so to moisten his fingers and resume.

Even from this angle, I could tell Milena was having trouble controlling her respiration, trying to stand against the relentless stimulation. It went on for minutes. I saw her shift and squirm until all he did was open his fly, let out his cock, and a gentle push of my wife’s head into his strange, veiny cock. It wasn’t too large in any of its sizes, it was thick but not really round. It was wide. It was circumcised with a smallish head that didn’t match the width of the shaft and the bulging veins gave it an angry or pained look. And it all slid between my wife’s pure lips, coating her with precum.

Holy fucking fuck Milena.

She took only his tip the first time, as if judging its flavour, before she started to take him closer to the hilt, using her hand to stimulate what didn’t fit into her mouth while he held her hair.

“Like that, Milena. That’s how you should blow your Uncle’s cock,” he groaned, slapping her over her leggings. “You like your Uncle’s cock?”

“Mmmphm,” she nodded at his slap, probably just to please him.

“This is how your should wake your uncle in the mornings. See?” he said, slapping a little too hard. The sound made him turn his head to check if the coast was still clear.

“Hmm!” whimpered Milena. Her head kept bobbing enthusiastically when he reached into her pants to stroke her ass.

“You always had the best ass of them all, Milena. Has anyone ever tried it yet?” he asked, coating his middle finger with his spit before teasing and working its first phalanx into her hole.

“HMM! NO!” she said.

He kept on probing her asshole. “I figured. Good… It’s very tight,” he said. “My God… You’re very good at this, do you practice a lot with your husband?”

Nope, I answered silently.

I grabbed my cock again, kneeling as comfortably as possible on the wooden floor, and jerked it violently to my wife’s new skills which I hadn’t had the pleasure to meet yet.

She paused to lick his shaft and caressed his balls, making him groan before returning for the final round. Her bare white back tensed as her Uncle pushed most of his finger into her rectum, making her groan; I’d never done that, so if with pleasure or pain, I didn’t know. Her pedicured toes wiggled to the rhythm of his prying finger.

She took his cock out of her mouth and laid her forehead on his thigh while he fingered her ass. She grunted with each pump of his sausage thick finger – from my point of view I wasn’t sure if she was easing or meeting his thrust.

“Hmmm. Uncle…Uncle please,” she whimpered. “I can’t take it anymore.”

It wasn’t voiced like a complaint. Her green eyes were half open and her breathing was labored. To me it sounded like begging; she needed to be fucked, and I decided to save my load for her pussy.

He purposefully ignored her pleas. The old man lead her head back to his cock and marked an aggressive tempo, thrusting his cock upwards—nearing climax— to match the speed of her assisted bobbing.

“Here it comes, putita. Yesss, here it comes. You’re mine, Milena. You’re my little slut. Here it coomes… Aaargh.”

In that second my wife let go, frantically searching for something to cover his imminent climax. Not finding anything appropriate to soil, the first volley shot her hard and straight in the eye as he desperately jerked off. She immediately took his cock back into her mouth and he pushed her head deeper.

I watched with beating temples when his pacing slowed and flicked as he let rope after rope of his semen into her angelic mouth, cumming deep and down into my wife’s reluctant throat. Her head heaved in reflex each time she gulped his load until he relaxed into the couch.

She meekly raised from his lap and slid to sit on the carpet floor in front of him, easing her back on the edge of the coffee table, eyes still closed, catching her breath and recovering from the experience. As her breathing normalized, she noticed her shirt on the floor and tried to use it to clean the semen out of her left eye, but he stopped her. She looked coy, staring at him as he gently grabbed her chin.

What is he doing now? I thought.

I didn’t see them communicate but she apparently knew what he expected.

After a long pause, she looked down, blinking, embarrassed. Milena opened her mouth. He used two fingers to swipe the cum from her eye and delicately wiped it on her tongue. She cleaned his fingers off with her lips. Milena looked up to meet his gaze and ceremoniously swallowed before timidly avoiding his stare, again.

I had just watched her suck her uncle’s cock in my living room, but this, this felt particularly wrong. There was something very wrong about it. It felt intensely personal, intimate, and I couldn’t shake it off my mind. I had lived to see one of my darkest fantasies materialize. It would be branded into my brain and I would remember it until the day I died, but what I had just seen belonged to a different category, for better or for much, much worse. I was very aroused, but it threw me off. Now my cumming was more of a nuisance, an obstacle to a clear head. I needed to digest all this because it was simply too much for one day.

I raised from the floor, deeply disturbed and turned on out of my mind, and so did Milena, only too fast. She was evidently dizzy, and stumbled back into the couch, this time on top of the remote.

The volume was raised until it was more than loud enough to be heard upstairs, and we all panicked. I saw them clumsily try to lower the volume instead of just turning it off. There were sounds coming from Valerie’s room. I snuck back to mine with my balls as necktie—quickly opening the door—hoping the chaos downstairs would drown whatever noise I’d made.

I pretended to sleep over the covers for a minute, then two, then five, until I heard not our door, but the bathroom’s in the hallway. I supposed Milena didn’t want me to see her before a full cleanup, oblivious that I had just seen the whole thing. Speaking of which, I too had to cum. After a quick peek into the dark, empty hallway, I sat on the bed and jerked off.

I was sure it wouldn’t take long; I was right.

With such pent up tension, after a minute or so of re-creating in my mind what I’d seen my wife do, I took off my shirt and came painfully hard, spurting again and again, not even caring where it’d land, and enjoyed my orgasm. I was totally high on dopamine and free.

I groggily opened my eyes to clean up before showing Morpheus my white flag. I shot my back straight – there were two eyes. Beautiful, terrified green eyes staring at me from behind a gap at the door. Valerie was petrified. Only her upper chest and face were visible, half entering the room as if to check if it was empty or something. Her eyes skipped from my pulsing cock to my scattered semen and back.

Her hand began to wave in front of her, our lips moved without sound.


“I-I’m sorry. I-I…”

She disappeared behind the frame, leaving me stunned on the edge of my bed.

I felt sick.

My sister-in-law just saw me cum.

The only thing more embarrassing than this would be if she caught me having my prostate checked. What would I say to her? I was bound to see her again, with her living in my house.

Dammit. Why did she– No, no, I can’t. I just can’t.

I wiped my cum there where I found some, tired and head aching, washed my hands and lay back in bed, mentally spent. My brain had been filled with the heavenly product of an unparalleled sexual crescendo, but this little accident took all of that away. If anything I was full of adrenaline, but exhausted. I thought bitterly of the fact that the only one today who got to enjoy his orgasm was that fat old fuck downstairs.

I dreaded my apology to Valerie and the infinitely awkward conversation that would follow and precede. I dreaded the million, possible bad news that Milena could lay down on me with the talk that never came, and I dreaded where my marriage would stand tomorrow.

Before I lost consciousness, I remember cussing at the ceiling; it was all I could do.