The laughter of the women downstairs provided a dangerous counterpoint to the escalating intimacy in the small, locked bathroom. Jerry's desperate moan was cut short as he bent low over the sink, hands gripping the cool porcelain edge, his focus shattered by the sheer force of the violation and the pleasure. Jerome, thick-limbed and relentless, drove into him.
“Fuck, baby,” Jerome grunted, his voice raw with exertion, the smacking of their bodies echoing ominously in the confined space. He held Jerry’s waist, watching the strained curve of his back. “Your hole feels so good. Yeah, that’s right. Take your brother-in-law’s cock. It’s all yours, baby, to have.”
Each aggressive thrust, each explicitly forbidden word from Jerome, was another spike of pure, toxic arousal. Jerry’s muffled moans grew louder, becoming less about pleasure and more about a desperate, agonizing surrender.
Jerome suddenly let go of Jerry’s waist and hovered over him, his breath hot as he slammed his hand over Jerry’s mouth. “Ssshh, easy, baby. You don’t want our wives to hear what we’re doing.” He continued to thrust, slower now, leaning in to whisper the poison directly into Jerry’s ear. “You don’t want them to see us fucking. Seeing us men… us in-laws having pleasurable sex in the bathroom.”
Jerry knew exactly what Jerome was doing—using the inherent danger and the dark fantasy to break Jerry’s control. Jerry’s muffled cries under Jerome’s palm became desperate, as he instinctively rocked his hips, silently begging for release.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Jerome whispered, his voice dark with challenge. “You wanna cum for big brother?”
Just as Jerry felt the irreversible urge surge through him, a sharp knock-knock rattled the door.
“Hey, Jerry? Are you in here?” It was Jasmine, her voice casual but close.
Both men froze, their breathing hitched. The locked door offered minimal assurance.
“Jerry? Sweetie, are you okay? Need for me to come in?” Jasmine paused, the sound of the doorknob rattling slightly.
Jerry, overcome with animal fear, instantly ripped Jerome’s hand from his mouth and shouted, “No! Don’t!”
His sharp reply startled Jasmine. “Why?” she asked, confused.
Before Jerry could construct an excuse, Jerome, with a reckless, mocking smirk, slammed his body forward in a deep, agonizing thrust, causing Jerry to yelp a short, involuntary cry. Jerry clamped his own hand over his mouth, unable to answer his wife.
The sounds, combined with Jerry’s strange silence, led Jasmine to a single conclusion. “Oh. Okay. Just… take your time.” He heard her footsteps retreat back down the hallway, the sound of her laughter rejoining the party. “She’s gone, baby,” Jerome breathed, immediately resuming his rhythmic assault.
Jerry continued to stifle his moans in his hand. Jerome gripped the back of Jerry’s neck with one hand and his waist with the other, his own control rapidly failing. “Fuck, the thought of us getting caught in this position… Mmh, getting caught getting fucked by this gorilla cock… in such a vulnerable state…”
He lost the battle against his own pleasure. “Fuck, you’re too sexy, baby… I’m about to nut in your pussy, baby! Fuck, I’m about to nut!”
Jerome thrust harder, the sharp, loud smacks now signaling an imminent climax. As Jerome came, he quickly pulled Jerry tight to his chest, emptying his hot, shameful release inside him. Jerry, eyes clenched shut, simultaneously shot his own release against the bathroom sink and mirror, the twin bursts of sensation finally silencing the desperate need.
It took only a minute for the high to subside. Jerry shoved himself away from Jerome, shame crashing over him. He grabbed a handful of tissues to clean himself, scrubbing the sink and mirror with frantic energy. Jerome stood, his wet length hanging, watching Jerry in silence.
Finally, Jerry tossed the used tissues to Jerome, who began wiping himself down and fixing his pants.
“You okay there?” Jerome asked, completely composed.
Jerry, finished cleaning the physical evidence, turned and faced Jerome. "I told you. I didn't want you to do it. Not again."
Jerome chuckled, pulling up his zipper. “Wait, you were serious about that shit?”
“Why wouldn't I be?” Jerry’s voice was suddenly cold, all the desire evaporated.
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that you didn’t want it. You practically screamed at me to fuck you at the dinner table.”
Just then, they heard Stacy’s voice in the hall, calling out for the men.
“Look, Jerome,” Jerry said, walking to the doorknob. “I need to start being faithful to my wife. And although I think about you time from time, I’m not like you. I can’t keep hurting the person I’m supposed to love.”
“You can’t be serious,” Jerome said, trying to stop him, but Jerry pulled his arm away.
“I am, Jerome. At least, I’m trying to be. I liked you. You know I have. And since you’re so-called straight, it wouldn’t be right to keep doing this. Messing with my heart.”
Jerry gripped the knob, took a shaky breath, and flung the door open.
He froze.
Jasmine was standing right there, leaning against the wall, her expression impossible to read. She wasn't just walking by; she was waiting.
Jerry was baffled. Scared. The door was open, and the evidence—the lingering scent of cologne and lust, the red stain of his betrayal—was all around them.
Jerry was frozen, the opened bathroom door acting as a frame for the moment of total exposure. He stared at Jasmine, who stared back at him and Jerome.
Jerome, ever the smooth operator, broke the silence first. His arm snaked around Jerry’s shoulder, a casual, false gesture of platonic friendship. “Hey there, Sis. Just needed to use the facilities. My boy Jerry here was about to leave.”
Jerry was a wreck, every nerve ending screaming. He knew Jasmine had heard something, or at least saw enough. “Jasmine, I—”
Before he could form the half-truth or the apology, Stacy’s slurred voice rounded the corner. She was drunk and leaning on the doorframe for support, laughing heartily at some forgotten joke from the party. “Oh, look, the whole gang’s here in the bathroom all along! That’s funny!”
The absurdity of Stacy’s interruption snapped the tension. Jerry and Jasmine immediately broke eye contact. One was burning with shame; the other was calculating and betraying nothing.
“Come on, guys! I want us to play a game,” Stacy insisted, pulling Jerome toward the stairs by his hand.
Jerry and Jasmine were left alone by the bathroom door frame. The moment the noise from downstairs faded, their eyes met again. Jerry braced for the explosion, ready to confess everything, to beg for forgiveness, or to demand the divorce he knew they needed.
He took a breath to speak, but Jasmine was faster.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for a harsh, possessive kiss. Jerry was stunned, but the lingering arousal from his encounter with Jerome—mixed with the terror of their discovery—made him respond, gripping her waist as her tongue commanded the kiss.
Jasmine pulled away, her eyes boring into his, the look in them cold, sharp, and understanding.
“Now we are even,” she whispered.
She cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing the corner of his mouth with a chilling smirk. “Tell me, was he better than you’ve ever dreamed?”
Jerry was utterly thrown. What the hell was she asking?
“J-Jasmine, I—”
She silenced him with another slow, deliberate kiss. “You sucked his cock, didn’t you?” she whispered against his lips, pulling back to lick her own. “I can tell by the residue on your mouth. Mmh, my brother tastes so good on your lips.”
Jerry had prepared for anger, for heartbreak, for the end of his life as he knew it. He was instead met with a predatory comprehension that was surprisingly and terrifyingly turning him on.
“I know this feeling all too well, Jerry,” Jasmine said, her expression shifting to one of tired resignation. “The feeling of wanting him but not being able to have him. The feeling of wanting to give everything up for him. But in reality, you can’t… because life doesn’t want us to be happy.”
She tightened her grip on his waist, a dark understanding passing between them.
“So, we do what we can. We fuck. Fucking is the only thing you and I could ever do for him, or what he could do for us. We are both in love with the same man, yet neither of us can truly have him. If fucking is the only part of him we get, then so be it.”
“But… doesn’t it hurt you?” Jerry asked, his voice barely audible, shame mixing with desire. “To keep fucking him without him ever being with you romantically?”
Jasmine shrugged, still holding him. “It did at first. But I’ve gotten used to him for ten years.” She cupped his cheek again, forcing him to focus on her. “You will get used to it as well… if you still want him.”
Jerry didn't know how to respond. Instead, he leaned down and kissed his wife—Jasmine, his crush’s step-sister—accepting the toxic contract.
Over the next few days, Jerry and Jasmine talked to Jerome. The inevitable path led to a dangerous, mutually agreed-upon arrangement: the three of them would become fuck buddies.
One afternoon, they sat in Jerry and Jasmine's living room, drinking coffee.
“Isn’t this wrong, though?” Jerry asked, handing Jerome his mug. “To be doing this and not letting Stacy know?”
“She knows,” Jerome stated flatly, settling onto the far end of the couch. “She has known for ten years. About Jasmine and I.” He paused, taking a sip. “It was only the other night that she discovered Jerry and I when we were in the bathroom.”
Jerry was stunned. “She does? Wait, I thought she was drunk that night!”
“She was drunk, Jerry. Not stupid,” Jerome replied.
“How did she take it then?” Jasmine asked, curiosity tinging her voice.
“She reacted how she reacted about us,” Jerome said, with an unsettling lack of emotion. “Shocked, but she got over it after clarification.”
Jerry, sitting beside his wife, absorbed the new reality. He had never imagined a threesome arrangement, especially not one born out of shared, obsessive, unrequited love for the third party. Jasmine was right. They might not have him romantically, but they had him physically and sexually.
The thought of what this meant for the three of them—the possibility of always having Jerome, always being in his orbit—sent a sudden, involuntary jolt of hardness to Jerry’s groin.
Jerome noticed. He smirked, putting his coffee cup down and slowly standing up. “Mmh? What’s wrong?” he asked, walking toward the couple.
Jasmine saw Jerry's reaction and smirked, too. “What were you thinking about that got your eggplant rising?”
Jerome sat next to them, scooting closer to Jerry.
“I, uh… just thought of what this all could mean for all three of us,” Jerry stammered, suddenly nervous.
Jasmine’s hand dropped seductively onto Jerry’s groin, gripping his hardness. “It means exactly what it means, love.”
She straddled Jerry’s lap, leaned to Jerome’s lips, and kissed her step-brother slowly, possessively. Jerry watched, his breath catching. Weeks ago, he watched from a distance. Today, he was an invited participant.
Jerry was getting hard. He looked down and noticed Jerome had already undone his pants; his thick, veined dick sprung up, hard and ready. How did that even happen so fast? Jerry gripped Jasmine’s ass, making her grind on him, and began kissing her neck.
Jasmine stopped kissing Jerome and tilted her head to the side. Jerome leaned in, kissing the other side of her neck, and took her hand, guiding it to grip his shaved, hard erection.
“Stroke me, baby… Mmh, stroke your brother's cock,” Jerome commanded.
Jasmine loved the pressure, but feeling her brother's heat made her even wetter. They were ready to have their first consensual threesome right then and there.
