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"Look at her, she looks like a boy trying to hide." Laughter echoed off the tiled walls as steam from the communal showers framed the bodies of the girls on the volleyball team. The hot water trickled down Daniela's back, but it didn't dispel the chill that ran through her chest every time her teammates pointed at her crotch with looks that were a mixture of curiosity and mockery.
She tried to cover herself with her hands, but she knew it was useless; the towel was out of reach, hanging on the hook with the rest, deliberately placed away. "Do you really think we can ignore *that*?" Valeria, the captain, blurted out as she approached with a crooked smile. Her eyes fixed on Daniela's member, which, despite the girl's efforts to shrink back, was still visible. Something in Valeria's tone—that mixture of disgust and fascination—made Daniela's fingers clench into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
Then it happened. As if a taut rope had finally snapped, Daniela felt a pop inside her head, followed by a buzzing sound that smothered her laughter. Suddenly, the air seemed to thicken around Valeria, whose expression shifted from mocking to confused as Daniela stood up, uncovered, and moved toward her. "What the hell...?" Valeria backed away, but she was too slow. Daniela's fingers closed around her wrist with a force she didn't know she possessed, dragging her against the damp wall.
SUMMARY^1: In the school locker room, Daniela is bullied by her volleyball teammates because of her unique anatomy. The taunts of Valeria, the captain, trigger a change in Daniela: a power awakens within her, altering Valeria's perception just as Daniela corners her against the wall.
The heat of their bodies clashed under the stream of water. Valeria gasped as Daniela pushed her against the tiles, her back sticky with soap and sweat. "S-Stop—" she began, but her voice cracked as Daniela, moving with a determination she didn't understand, lifted one of her legs and rubbed against it. The contact was electric; Valeria could feel Daniela's firmness pressing against her, but her mind, inexplicably, refused to process it as anything out of the ordinary. Only a moan escaped her lips as her muscles relaxed against her will.
Daniela didn't speak. The rage that had built up over years burned beneath her skin, transforming into something more tangible than the steam around her. Her hands, once trembling, now gripped Valeria's hips tightly, digging her fingers into the soft flesh. Daniela's member found its place between Valeria's thighs, sliding in with an ease that shouldn't be possible. Valeria moaned again, her eyes glazed, as her body responded to Daniela's rhythmic movements—wet, hot, almost violent in their intensity—but her expression remained strangely serene, as if she were watching the clouds drift by.
The sound of the water mingling with Valeria's short gasps filled the space. The other girls were still there, watching with distracted curiosity, as if witnessing an everyday scene. None of them intervened. None of them seemed to notice the grotesque nature of the situation. Daniela felt something inside her uncoil, release itself, as she thrust harder, faster, until Valeria shuddered against her, her thighs trembling. A thin trail of saliva escaped the corner of her lips.
When Daniela finally pulled away, Valeria slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, legs spread, her chest rising and falling. Her eyes, still blurry, blinked slowly. "That's weird," she murmured, touching her damp thigh with her fingers, as if she didn't understand why her skin was burning. Daniela took a deep breath, looking down at her own body, which still throbbed with the adrenaline of the moment. Something had changed. Something she couldn't—and didn't want to—control.
Next was Andrea, the youngest of the team, who watched everything with an absorbed smile. Before she could react, Daniela pushed her against the cold tiles, feeling the small body shudder at the contact. Andrea moaned, but didn't fight; her hands gripped Daniela's shoulders as if seeking support, while her hips moved on their own, driven by a need her mind couldn't register. Daniela could smell the coconut shampoo in her hair, mingled with sweat and steam, as she penetrated her with short, precise strokes. Andrea twitched, her nipples brushing against Daniela's torso, but her expression remained that of someone waiting for the bus.
The others didn't run away. They didn't scream. They just watched, with that same passive curiosity, as Daniela took them one after another—against the wall, on the wooden bench, even on the slippery floor. The sounds mingled: gasps, the splashing of water, the scraping of skin against skin. Daniela felt her muscles burn, but she kept going, driven by something deeper than lust. It was hunger. It was revenge. Every stifled moan, every drop of sweat that fell onto her breasts, every time her hips collided with theirs, was a silent reminder: now they were the ones exposed. The vulnerable ones.
When it was over, the silence was the strangest thing. None of them spoke. None of them cried. They just looked at each other, confused but calm, as if they had just woken up from a dream they no longer remembered.
Daniela felt the air rush back into her body, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly, reality crashed down on her with brutal clarity. She looked around—the water droplets on the tiles, the fallen towels, the naked, panting girls—and horror choked her throat. Her own skin burned, not with pleasure, but with shame. What had she done? Her hands trembled as she covered herself, frantically searching for her clothes while thoughts hammered in her skull: *This isn't me. This can't be me.*
She dressed so fast she almost fell as she squeezed her legs into her pants. Her shirt was inside out, but she didn't stop to fix it. She just needed to get out of there. The girls' voices, murmuring things like "she's acting weird today" or "why does it hurt here?", followed her as she ran down the hall, her shoes sloshing in the puddles left by her wet feet.
The front door creaked open too forcefully. Her mother, who was in the kitchen, looked up, her eyes wide with alarm. "Dani? What's wrong? You're as white as—" Daniela didn't let her finish. She hugged herself, her fingers digging into her arms, and her voice broke: "Mom... I did something awful." Hot, bitter tears burned her cheeks.
Her mother rushed to her, warm hands cupping her face. "Honey, breathe. Tell me what happened." But Daniela couldn't. The words caught in her throat as the memory of sweaty bodies, muffled moans, the dampness of the shower, hit her again. Without thinking, she threw herself against her mother's chest, burying her face in her shoulder. The scent of lavender soap made her shiver. Then she felt it—her own erection, hard and relentless, pressing against her mother's belly through the thin fabric of her dress.
"What—?" Her mother stepped back slightly, confused, but Daniela was already lost in the urge. Unable to stop herself, she rubbed her member against her mother's thigh, the movements rough, desperate. "I did it with all of them, Mom," she gasped, the words coming out in short bursts. "I pushed them against the wall, penetrated them while they didn't even... they didn't even understand." Each syllable was a knife plunged into her own conscience, but her body kept moving, seeking that absurd release once more.
Her mother didn't pull away. She didn't scream. Her hands rested on Daniela's shoulders with a reassuring firmness, but her voice sounded distant, as if she were speaking from another room: "Come on, calm down... it probably wasn't that bad." Daniela felt panic explode in her chest. *Doesn't she see it either?* The friction continued, involuntary now, until a moan escaped her lips. The orgasm hit her with a nauseating mixture of pleasure and guilt, staining her mother's dress with white threads that she only regarded with a distracted smile.
"What's this, Dani? Did you fall on something?" Her mother rubbed the fabric between her fingers, smelling it like sticky jam. Daniela stepped back, her eyes wide. "No... you can't be serious." Her voice trembled as she pointed at her own still-throbbing member. Her mother followed her finger, blinked twice, and then shrugged. "Oh, those pants are really tight on you, honey. We're going shopping tomorrow."
The air caught in her lungs. Without thinking, Daniela grabbed her mother's hands and guided them to her crotch. Her mother's warm skin enveloped her erection without resistance, her fingers fitting naturally around it. "Tell me what you feel," Daniela demanded, panting. Her mother narrowed her eyes, as if concentrating on a household chore. "Well... you're hot. Sweating. Like when you were a baby and I changed your diapers."
A hysterical laugh erupted from Daniela as she pushed her body against her mother's again, this time from behind. The tip of her penis slid between the firm curves of her mother's buttocks, against the cotton of her underwear. "And this? What is this?" Her voice was broken. Her mother sighed, adjusting herself without thinking about the movement. "Oh, Dani, stop pushing me like that. You're acting like when you were little and you used to hug me from behind so I wouldn't go to work."
The contrast was grotesque. As Daniela thrust, feeling the wetness of her pre-seed stain the fabric, her mother continued washing the dishes, muttering about the dinner menu. Each thrust made the dishes clatter in the sink. When she finally came for the second time, her mother simply wiped her bottom with a damp cloth, muttering, "These teenagers and their energy... you should go for a run more."
Daniela collapsed against the kitchen table, her legs trembling. The white stains on her mother's apron were drying under the fluorescent light. *No one sees it. No one will ever understand.* The revelation burned in her stomach.
She ran up the stairs to her room as if escaping a fire. The door slammed shut behind her. The click of the latch hitting the floor echoed like a gunshot. For the first time in hours, silence. Only her ragged breathing and the creaking of the mattress as she collapsed face down onto the bed. The sheets smelled of lavender and something else—of herself, that acrid scent that now reminded her of what she'd done. *What the hell is happening to me?*
He turned onto his back, staring at the stained ceiling where the shadows of the garden branches danced. His body remained alert, every muscle tense, every pore open. But now, in the privacy of his room, the power seemed to have subsided. Or perhaps it was that there was no one here left to corrupt. He brought his hands to his face, smelling on his fingers his mother's soap, the girls' sweat, dried semen. *Am I a monster?*
Downstairs, the television muffled a cooking show. Her mother laughed, as if nothing had happened. As if her daughter hadn't raped her ten minutes earlier. Daniela sat bolt upright, her nails digging into the duvet. Her penis, now limp, hung between her thighs like a grotesque reminder. *No. This isn't rape. They... didn't feel it. They don't know.* The thought made her vomit in the wastebasket beside the bed. Gastric juices and bile. Nothing solid. As if her body, too, rejected the perverse logic of her power.
At 3:17 AM, insomnia was a cage of bones. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Valeria's dilated pupils, Andrea's involuntary trembling, her mother's fingers wiping away semen as if it were sauce. She dragged her feet, feeling the cold floor beneath her sweaty soles. Her mother's door was ajar—she always slept like that since the divorce, as if waiting for someone to come in. The moonlight illuminated the curve of her hip under the sheets. Daniela stopped in the doorway, holding her breath. *If I leave now, I can still—*
But then her mother turned her head, half asleep. "Dani? Are you feeling unwell?" The sleepy, raspy voice was so familiar it tore at her chest. Daniela didn't answer. She moved forward like a sleepwalker, dragging her fingers along the edge of the mattress until she felt the warmth of her mother's body through the fabric. His erection grew so fast he almost cried out—as if just being near her activated the power. Her mother yawned, stretching shamelessly, and the sheet fell away, revealing the silk nightgown clinging to her breasts. "Come on, lie down here." She patted the space beside her as if Daniela were six years old and had had a nightmare.
The first touch was like a firestorm. Daniela slipped under the covers, feeling her erection press against her mother's warm thigh. A moan escaped her lips. Her mother, still half asleep, only murmured "poor thing" and put an arm around her back, pulling her closer. *No. Don't—* But her body was already responding, rubbing against the soft belly, seeking that moist warmth between her legs. Her mother's nightgown rode up without resistance, revealing the skin of her inner thighs, bare of underwear. Daniela felt saliva pooling under her tongue. *Does she always sleep like this?*
Her hands moved on their own. One tangled in her mother's brown hair while the other thrust her own member between those generous thighs. The friction was electric—her mother was wet, not from arousal but from the warmth of the night. Even so, her body responded. Her mother's hips arched slightly as Daniela began to move, but her eyes remained closed, her breathing steady. "Mmm... it's so hot..." she murmured, adjusting herself, not realizing that her daughter was fucking her thigh with increasingly frenzied movements.
Daniela buried her face in her mother's neck, inhaling the stale perfume and sweat. The tip of her penis grazed something softer, warmer—her mother's entrance, which yielded without resistance under the pressure. *God, no—* But it was too late. Her hips thrust forward, penetrating her in one deep stroke. Her mother moaned in her sleep, her legs spreading wider, but when Daniela looked at her face, she saw only peace. As if she were dreaming of the beach. The sheets crumpled in her fists as she fucked her, slowly at first, then brutally, until the mattress squeaked against the wall.
The room smelled of sex and almond lotion. Her mother began to moan earnestly, her nipples hardening beneath her nightgown, but when Daniela brushed her hair away from her face to look at her, her pupils were black with unconscious pleasure. "Yes... what a lovely dream..." she whispered, her nails digging into Daniela's back in an attempt to pull her closer. It was that disconnection—that chasm between the body writhing beneath her and the mind that believed it was dreaming—that brought Daniela to orgasm with a muffled cry, filling her mother with violent throbbing that made her back arch.
She fell asleep inside her, his member still semi-erect, like a grotesque plug preventing his semen from escaping. The first ray of sunlight found her in the same position: mouth against her mother's neck, legs entwined, skin sticky. When she awoke, the first thing she felt was the rhythmic movement of her mother's breathing. Then, the moist heat that still enveloped her. Horrified, she tried to withdraw, but her mother's body—as if protesting—closed around her in a wet spasm. "No... please..." Daniela whimpered, but her hips were already beginning to move again, pushing slowly, feeling her mother's inner walls adjust to every inch.
Tears burned her cheeks as she fucked that deep sleep, each thrust calculated not to wake her. Her mother smiled in her sleep, murmuring something about "the garden" as her hands clumsily searched for Daniela's buttocks to pull her deeper. "Forgive me," Daniela gasped, feeling her own arousal rise again against her will. "I'm a horrible daughter... a shitty person..." Her voice broke as her mother, still asleep, lifted a leg over her shoulder, opening herself completely. The angle changed—now each thrust grazed that internal spot that made her mother's fingers twitch in the sheets.
The sound was the worst: those wet smacking sounds that filled the room, mixed with her mother's gasps and the creaking of the bed frame. Daniela wept silently as she came for the second time, burying herself deep inside, feeling her semen from the night before mingle with the new. Her mother sighed, stretching like a cat, and Daniela knew there was another female orgasm that would never be remembered. When they finally separated, a thread of whitish fluid connected their bodies before breaking.
The cold tap water barely managed to wash away the guilt that burned her skin. Daniela rubbed herself until her breasts were red, as if she could erase the nail marks her mother had unintentionally left. Steam filled the bathroom when the door opened. "Oh, it's so good you're here—I was going to die of heat," her mother said, walking in naked as if nothing were amiss, hanging her towel on the hook at the back. Daniela choked back the scream that rose in her throat. Her mother stood under the shower next to her, closed her eyes, and began to lather her hair with distracted movements, humming a song from the radio.
The power erupted before Daniela could control it. She felt her member harden against her mother's thigh, who only moved her leg slightly to "give him space." Soap slipped between their bodies as Daniela pushed her against the tiled wall, water trickling between her squashed breasts. "Mom, please—" she begged, but her hips were already thrusting forward, searching for that familiar wetness between her legs. Her mother sighed, placing her hands on Daniela's shoulders as if helping an old woman cross the street. "Careful, Dani, the floor's slippery," she murmured, as the tip of her daughter's penis plunged inside her with a wet sound that the water couldn't drown out.
Daniela wept as she fucked her mother with short thrusts, feeling the vaginal walls tighten with each movement. The contrast was obscene: the cold water on her back, her mother's inner heat enveloping her, her hot tears mingling with the shower spray. Her mother wiped the water from her face, indifferent to the member penetrating her, and began conditioning her hair. "Oh, this cool water feels so good," she said, arching slightly as Daniela gripped her hips to thrust deeper. Her mother's fingers tangled in her wet hair, pulling unconsciously as the rhythm grew more frantic. "That's it, my love, what a lovely massage," she whispered, mistaking the thrusts for caresses.
The orgasm came like a whiplash—Daniela buried her face in her mother's neck, moaning between sobs as he emptied his semen inside her. Her mother yawned, stretching under the water, and Daniela felt her own penis gently expel itself with post-orgasmic contractions. "Are you going to use a towel or air dry?" her mother asked, running a distracted finger along her crotch as if wiping away soap suds. Daniela vomited between sobs, her knees hitting the shower floor. Her mother stroked her head. "Oh, period cramps are awful, aren't they?"
Twenty minutes later, Daniela rocked on the edge of her bed, staring at the open closet. Clothes hung like empty skins—tight jeans that always accentuated her package, tank tops that revealed her feminine shoulders but her ambiguous torso. With trembling fingers, she pulled out an outfit she'd never dared to wear: a black sports bra and lycra shorts that reached mid-thigh. The fabric stretched beneath her fingers, elastic and cool. She imagined it clinging to her skin, highlighting every curve she had and every bump she shouldn't.
She dressed as if in a trance. First the bra—the straps dug into her shoulders as she fastened the clasps, compressing her small but defined breasts. Then the shorts, which rode up her legs with a synthetic whisper, clinging to her hips like a second skin. The black spandex made her member protrude obscenely, forming a rounded bulge that the fabric couldn't quite conceal. Daniela took a deep breath in front of the mirror. Without her power, it would have been a grotesque sight. Now, she saw only a sporty girl ready for the gym.
The doorbell startled her. "Dani, it's for you!" her mother called from downstairs. Before she could react, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs—quick, familiar. Valeria appeared in the doorway, wearing a purple crop top and leggings. Her eyes scanned Daniela's body without a hint of discomfort. "Hey, are you coming to practice or what?" she said, chewing on a gummy bear. Daniela felt her own erection grow against her shorts, noticing how Valeria was still smiling as if she didn't see the movement under the black leggings. "Sure," Daniela murmured, feeling the power throb again beneath her skin. "I'll be right there."
Valeria tossed her a towel. "Put it around your neck, we're doing blocking drills today." Daniela nodded, noticing the captain biting her lower lip as she bent down to pick up her water bottle. Her shorts rode up even further, revealing the unmistakable shape of her erection. Valeria yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Ugh, it's fucking hot," she said, adjusting her top, oblivious to Daniela's eyes glued to her breasts. Power buzzed between them like static electricity.
When Valeria turned to leave, Daniela grabbed her wrist roughly. "What the f—?" The sentence broke off as Daniela threw her to the wooden floor, the boards creaking under the impact. Valeria gasped, her lungs emptying from the blow, but before she could catch her breath, Daniela was on top of her—knees straddling her hips, the black shorts glistening wet in the crotch. "You started this," Daniela whispered as she ripped the purple leggings open with a flick of her fingers that surprised even her. The fabric gave way like wet paper, revealing trimmed pubic hair and lips slightly parted in surprise.
Valeria gasped as Daniela plunged her fingers inside her without preamble, feeling the wetness already coating her knuckles. "D-Dani... wha—" but her voice turned into a moan as Daniela withdrew her fingers and instead aligned her member, rubbing the head against her swollen clitoris. The friction was electric—Valeria arched her back, her breasts pressing against Daniela's sweaty torso, but her pupils remained dilated with a confusion that would never reach consciousness. "Like that... like that..." she moaned as Daniela thrust into her with a sharp push, making her hips bounce against the floor.
The rhythm was brutal from the start—Daniela gripped her thighs, lifting her legs until her knees almost touched her shoulders, exposing her completely. Each thrust sent Valeria's body sliding across the floor, her shoulder blades scraping against the rough wood. Her breasts bounced violently, her nipples brushing against Daniela's black spandex, leaving wet patches. "Shit... shit..." Valeria muttered, her nails digging into Daniela's shoulders, but her face maintained that expression of placid bewilderment, as if trapped in a feverish trance. Daniela felt the orgasm approaching like a train in the night—inevitable, destructive. When it came, she plunged deep inside, filling Valeria with pulsations that made the captain's abdominal muscles tense in spasms unregistered by her mind.
The last drops of semen escaped as Daniela withdrew, watching Valeria slowly sit up, rubbing her eyes as if waking from a nap. "Oops, I fell asleep again," she murmured, absentmindedly touching herself between her legs before standing. Her thighs glistened, sticky, but she merely adjusted the remnants of her torn leggings as if it were a minor inconvenience. Daniela swallowed as she reached out to help her, feeling her fingers close around Valeria's warm wrist.
Together they stepped into the hallway, where the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains. Valeria limped slightly at first, each step causing her bare crotch to brush against the inside of her thighs, but she soon regained her footing. Daniela couldn't resist—her left hand slid as if of its own accord to Valeria's firm buttocks, squeezing the sweaty flesh as they walked. "Hey, are you going to stop pushing me?" Valeria protested, but her voice sounded more like a playful complaint than a reprimand, and she continued onward as if Daniela's grip were just a trivial detail.
On the stairs, Daniela took advantage of the uneven surface to rub her renewed erection against Valeria's backside, feeling her buttocks tense and yield with each step down. Valeria stopped on the landing, turning around with an exasperated smile. "You're like a dog in heat today," she said, giving her a gentle push that made Daniela stumble against the wall. The contact was electric—her member plunged between Valeria's thighs from behind, grazing the exact spot where it had filled her most intensely just minutes before. Valeria moaned, but continued down as if nothing had happened, while Daniela followed close behind like a shadow, her fingers tracing half-moons on the captain's tanned hips.
The murmur of the team drifted from the back garden, where the girls stretched out on multicolored towels. Valeria bent down to pick up a ball, offering Daniela a perfect view of her still half-open, glistening sex. "They're waiting for us," she said, tossing the ball without looking, but Daniela could hear nothing but the rumble of power in her veins. Her hands found Valeria's body again, this time from the front, digging her fingers into the rolls of her belly as her erection pressed against her wet pubis. Valeria sighed, running a hand through her sweaty hair. "Oh, Dani, don't you ever get tired?" she asked, as if they were arguing about repeating a boring exercise, as her hips began to move in small circles against Daniela's member.
The first laughs from the team came from the garden. Someone yelled something about being late. Valeria turned her head toward the sound, distracted, and Daniela took the opportunity to bite her shoulder, savoring the salt on her skin. Training could wait. The world could wait. Because now, for the first time, Daniela understood the true nature of her power: it wasn't a curse, but a key. And every lock in the world seemed made for her.
Coach Martinez was checking her stopwatch when Daniela approached, still panting. Her black lycra uniform shimmered stickily in the sun, and the air smelled of teenage sweat mixed with something sweeter, more humid. "Ma'am," Daniela whispered, brushing her lips against the woman's ear as her fingers fiddled with the clip on her clipboard. "I have an idea for improving the squat drill." Her voice was a thread of thick honey. The coach turned her head, her sunglasses reflecting Daniela's gleaming, teeth a little too white.
"What do you propose, Valdés?" Martínez asked, adjusting her cap without noticing how Daniela's crotch throbbed against her thigh. The plan slipped from Daniela's lips in short, warm phrases: "Me on the floor... The girls rotating... Deep squats... Improve balance..." Each word made the coach nod more enthusiastically, as if they were discussing blocking tactics. When Daniela finished, Martínez clapped loudly. "Listen up, everyone! New drill. Valdés in the center. Squats over her. Ten reps each. I want to see depth!"
The first drops of precum had soaked his black shorts when Daniela lay down on the blue towel. The grass tickled her back. The sun burned her eyelids. And then there was Andrea, the youngest, riding his member as if it were a piece of gym equipment. Her thighs trembled as she lowered herself, her lips first brushing the tip before taking it all in with a fluid motion. "One... two..." Martínez counted, while the other girls lined up, adjusting their leggings. Andrea moaned with each thrust, but her hands rested calmly on her knees, as if during any exercise. When she finished, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and limped away slightly, leaving Daniela glistening and throbbing.
Valeria was the fifth. By then, the semen mingled with her sweat, making each penetration easier, wetter. Valeria squatted with perfect technique—back straight, thighs parallel to the floor—and Daniela felt the head of her penis brush against her cervix. "Seven... eight..." Martínez took notes, oblivious to Valeria biting her lip or her breasts bouncing freely beneath her wet top. The orgasm came without warning—Daniela arched her back, filling Valeria as she finished her tenth repetition with a gasp of effort.
The last one was the coach. "To show you I'm not asking for anything I wouldn't do myself," she said, unzipping her sweatpants. Her adult hips enveloped Daniela differently—slower, more calculated, as if she were truly focused on technique. Daniela moaned as she felt Martínez's fingers guiding her member inside, adjusting the angle like someone correcting posture. "Like that... perfect... now breathe," the woman murmured, her powerful thighs, those of a former Olympian, tightening around Daniela. The semen from the previous women sloshed as it mixed with Martínez's fluids, creating an obscene splash.
The other girls counted aloud as Martínez performed the squats with military precision. "Thirteen... fourteen..." Daniela could barely think—only feel. Feel the trainer's pubic hair brush against her stomach with each descent. How her breasts, free beneath her sweaty t-shirt, swayed precisely at face level. How her short, unpainted nails dug into her thighs for balance. The orgasm took her by surprise, violent and silent, as Martínez finished the twentieth repetition with a grunt of professional satisfaction.
The walk home was a haze of dried semen and aching muscles. The streets seemed to tilt beneath his feet, as if the asphalt itself were sinking under the weight of what he'd done. Opening the door, the smell of meatballs and bay leaves reminded him that a normal world still existed, one where mothers cooked and daughters didn't rape half a volleyball team. His mother looked up from the sofa, where she was knitting something blue with needles that clicked together like teeth. "Did practice go well, honey?" The television murmured a soap opera, illuminating her profile with dramatic tones.
Daniela didn't answer. She slumped onto the sofa like a sack of bones, her head instinctively seeking her mother's warm lap. The scent of fabric softener from the floral skirt stung her nostrils. "Oh, you look so tired," her mother murmured, setting aside the needles to stroke her sweaty hair. Without warning, Daniela took the hand that was stroking her forehead and guided it to her crotch, where the athletic shorts were already bulging again. Her mother didn't flinch—she simply adjusted her fingers as if taking her pulse, and began to rub.
The first caress was clumsy, almost maternal, like when she used to clean Daniela's scraped knees as a child. But when Daniela arched her hips, the movement became firmer, wetter. Her mother's fingers found the outline of her member through the lycra, squeezing with the same precise pressure she used to knead bread dough. "Like this..." Daniela gasped, as her own hands climbed the buttons of her mother's blouse, opening them one by one with animal urgency. The fabric parted, revealing a practical beige bra, its cups full of breasts she had known since breastfeeding.
As she bit the lace, she felt the nipple harden against her tongue. Her mother sighed, but continued moving her hand with a steady rhythm, as if rocking a restless baby. Daniela sucked furiously, alternating between breasts, marking the skin with red semicircles while the hand between her legs quickened its pace. The sound of the lycra stretching mingled with her mother's muffled moans—not of pleasure, but in that same tired tone she used on the phone while cooking.
When the tip of his penis peeked out from the edge of his shorts, her mother made the instinctive decision of any woman who's cleaned up a thousand spills: she used her open blouse as a rag, wrapping it in the cotton fabric to avoid staining the sofa. The rough contact of the fabric against the wet glans made Daniela shudder. "Careful, honey," her mother murmured, but her fingers continued pumping beneath the fabric, now soaked with precum. Daniela buried her face in her left breast, smelling of lavender soap and the sweet scent of dried milk that always lingered on her nipples.
Her orgasm came with a stifled moan, her teeth digging into the soft flesh as her mother caught every drop in the folds of her blouse as if wiping up an overturned glass. "There, there," she said, stroking the back of her neck as the spasms subsided. On the screen, the soap opera actors continued their argument under an artificial rain. Daniela closed her eyes, feeling her still-throbbing member relax against her mother's hand. The last sensation was the brush of lips against her forehead—a kiss that smelled of meatballs and of herself.
Guilt should have crushed her. Instead, she noticed how his erection barely subsided, the power burning like fever beneath his skin. He sat up slowly, his knees brushing against the knitting needles abandoned on the sofa. His mother raised an eyebrow at the bulge distorting his athletic shorts, but only adjusted his stained blouse with a sigh. "Sit up straight, sweetheart," she murmured, paying no attention to the way Daniela watched her, like a predator calculating its pounce.
The first contact was a caress on the shoulder—pretending to help her mother up to "find her a damp cloth." But as soon as the woman stood, Daniela slid her hands under her thighs and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. "Dani, what—?" The protest was stifled as her mother landed on her knees in her lap, her flowered skirt swirling around her hips. Daniela's member sank between her buttocks, finding that residual morning moisture without any guidance.
Her mother blinked, as if sensing the pressure, but only shifted more comfortably—as if her daughter were a reclining sofa. "You're sweating a lot," she commented, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as her hips, under the force of gravity, sank further onto his erection. Daniela gasped as she felt the head of his penis brush against the familiar entrance. Her mother's skirt bunched between her fingers as she pulled down, revealing the precise moment her body yielded, swallowing her whole with a wet sound that the soap opera couldn't quite mask.
Her mother's hips lowered without resistance, until her plump thighs pressed against Daniela's belly. "Phew, it's hot," she murmured, fanning herself with her free hand while her other arm instinctively wrapped around her daughter's neck. Daniela gasped—not from the weight, but from the internal heat enveloping her, more intense than that morning's shower. Her mother began to rock gently, as if searching for a comfortable position to watch television, each movement causing her vaginal walls to tighten around her daughter in involuntary contractions.
Her mother's chin rested on her head, her calm breath stirring Daniela's wet curls. "Did you take off your shorts?" she asked distractedly, running a hand up Daniela's thigh—not to stop her, but to scratch an itch. Her fingers brushed the spot where their bodies met, gathering moisture without recognizing its source. Daniela closed her eyes, feeling the semen from hours earlier seep between them, lubricating every small movement. When her mother leaned down to pick up the remote, the angle changed—her member grazed that internal spot that made the woman's fingers grip Daniela's shoulder.
"Ah," her mother said, as if recalling something trivial. Daniela felt her nails dig into her skin as the body above her tensed for the first time, internal muscles tightening in waves that didn't correspond to any conscious movement. On the screen, the protagonist was crying. "Poor thing," her mother whispered, as her own orgasm shook her silently, tears sliding down just like the actress's—but for no apparent reason.
Daniela freed herself with a sudden jerk, letting her mother tumble backward onto the sofa with a giggle of "ouch!" The wet sound of their separation made Daniela's stomach churn, but her legs were already carrying her toward the bathroom before she could even think about it. The hallway was a tunnel of nausea and condensed body heat, the echo of her footsteps mingling with the clinking of knitting needles hitting the floor.
The bathroom mirror reflected back at her flushed skin and glazed eyes. She ripped off her shorts so forcefully that the side seam gave way, revealing her still-throbbing member, glistening with someone else's fluids. The faucet squirted cold water that stung on contact, but Daniela scrubbed herself furiously, using the hand soap as if she wanted to peel off her skin. Pink bubbles trickled down her belly, carrying strands of clotted semen toward the drain.
When she looked up, her own reflection smiled before she could stop it. Power throbbed in her temples, making the bathroom—with its clean towels and the scent of floor cleaner—seem like an unreal stage set. Daniela clenched her fists against the marble, feeling desire rise again between her legs despite the icy water.