They got into the car and set off towards the seaside house. During the journey, Patricia and Antonio asked him questions about his studies, his plans, and how his life had changed in recent years. Álvaro responded calmly, although Patricia was surprised to notice that her nephew had matured a lot, not only physically but also in his way of expressing himself.
"I hope you like the house," Patricia commented as they turned onto the street leading to her home.
--I'm sure of it. Besides, being close to the sea is the best --Álvaro replied enthusiastically.
Upon arriving, Patricia opened the door and gestured for him to come in.
--Welcome home for this summer.
Álvaro smiled gratefully. What they still didn't know was that summer would be unforgettable for everyone.
Patricia continued sorting the clothes, as she did every afternoon after the beach. The wet towels, the still dripping swimsuits, the stacked t-shirts... everything seemed to be in its place. However, when she went to grab one last towel from the bottom of the basket, something made her stop. When she picked up a garment, she realized it was neither a towel nor anything she could have expected. They were Álvaro's underwear.
What made her freeze was not just that they were his, but that they were stained. The stain was large, visible, from a white liquid that seemed recent. Despite the discomfort of the situation, Patricia couldn't help but notice the obviousness of the stain, which stood out on the fabric still somewhat damp from the sea.
Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she stared at the stain, the kind of mark, not knowing what to do or how to react. The moment overwhelmed her, and she couldn't help but feel that, although it wasn't something unusual in itself, that kind of invasion of her privacy caused her immediate discomfort. Years ago, Álvaro had been just a child, and now, suddenly, he found himself with such an intimate, such a personal image, that he didn't know whether to laugh, feel embarrassed, or simply set it aside and move on.
With a mix of curiosity and excitement, Patricia brought the underwear to her nose, without thinking too much. The smell of an 18-year-old boy's penis flooded her nostrils, not just any boy's, but her sister's son's. He was smelling it until he decided to stick out his tongue and started sliding it across the surface of the underwear until he reached the thick white stain; upon tasting it, he could notice its salty flavor. While doing this, she slid her hand inside her pants, through her panties, until she reached her clitoris. He started to caress it while continuing to smell with his nose and taste with his tongue the semen of his young nephew.
She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice Antonio was there, watching her from the door. He didn't say anything, just watched her in silence while she continued, unaware of his presence. Patricia, absorbed in the action, was finishing up by collecting the last remnants of semen with her tongue, as if it were something common, something so natural that she saw nothing strange about it. A few seconds later, when she lifted the garment back to her face, that was when something changed.
She realized that Antonio was there, watching her in silence. The discomfort engulfed her immediately. The air became denser, as if the moment were stretching excessively. Patricia, instantly, stopped, lowered her panties, and pulled her hand out of her underwear, feeling the heat rise to her face. Time seemed to have completely stopped, while a heavy silence filled the space between them.
Antonio, who had been observing in silence, did not say a word. There were no reproaches or laughter. Just that steady and calm gaze that seemed to analyze every small movement. Patricia, with embarrassment taking hold of her, didn't know what to do. She couldn't believe she had been so focused while he was watching her.
Finally, Antonio took a step back, as if he had understood that there was something uncomfortable about the situation, and he slowly walked away, without saying anything, without breaking the silence. Patricia remained there, still, with her heart racing and her mind driven mad by embarrassment. She didn't know what to think. Should I have spoken? Should I have ignored it? Was it something I should address with him? But what worried her the most was the feeling that, somehow, that action had revealed more than she would have wanted to share.
The silence lingered there, heavy and dense, as Antonio walked away. Patricia stood still, feeling the shame suffocating her.
The feeling of wanting to talk about it, to clarify it in some way, accompanied her, but she wasn't sure how to approach the topic. Would it be strange? Should I pretend that nothing happened? Or should I be honest and talk about what had happened? Patricia felt lost in her own discomfort, wishing to find a way to erase that small moment, or at least to understand what it really meant for them.
