Long ago. South America.

--------------

Maybe. Maybe it would have been funny if it was happening to someone else. Maybe I should’ve stopped it then.

My lips were dry again, but I was frozen in place.

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 on what had become my new personal mantra: ‘You can’t hide from the sun there’. I didn’t remember his exact words but I knew that’s what he’d meant.

The plastic crumpled as I forced it open with more violence than I’d meant to use. The water was warm with a faint metallic taste. It brought me 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 perplexing shock.

Yet, 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 meant to impress—but my mind couldn’t be forced to accept what I was seeing. It could have been funny if it had happened to someone else.

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 colors and music. Women wore this on their flesh – playful, elegant, and spirited. All this was the opposite of my quiet, dull life growing up in a classic suburban community. It was amazing. 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 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, here people only married to legitimize children. 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 behavior, 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?

Unbelievable.

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 of steps in their direction, white-knuckled and stoking my own rage as their image drew closer. 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, white females coming back to our place in the stand.

When he stepped back, I got to see 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 the 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 seemed to persuade 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 colors; it doesn’t matter, everything bends and shifts to make her green eyes glow – her pure, white skin makes an amazing contrast with the dark color 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 in 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 thirty-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 began to make peace with the idea of letting go of everything I had seen, we would be moving soon anyway.

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

----------------

A couple of 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 blood 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 dewdrop 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 heartbeat painfully in my chest and the blood 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 are 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 the mournful quiet of winter on 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 blood 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, “maybe I should take them off?"

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

“M-Milena!” I stuttered.

She giggled at my alarm, pouring from my expression. 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 using 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 to my unspoken duties as host, but found only my own reflection at the bottom.

“Okay,” I sighed. Facing her family’s disconcerting exchanges was the inevitable ending of this day.

And it waited 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 that 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! Thank you. It was a very, very long day. Thank you,” throwing kisses with her hands.

I’d been dreading this day ever since I had it forced 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 of 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 these 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 it, 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 the mirror over the sink and jiggling with her every move. Milena stripped off everything else for a quick shower, while I marveled at 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 her 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 women 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 purred, 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 a 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 freshly 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 in 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 was 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 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 to me in a 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?” She covered 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 it 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 to 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 white 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 drug for the first time. I could no longer breathe but through my mouth. Her hand was now 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 on 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 white 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 at 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 described it anyway.

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

I had never felt so focused and relaxed, the world and its 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 a 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 that 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 didn’t know if that part was true, but a stirring was persuading me to believe.

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