The Massage My Brother-in-Law Gave Me in Front of My Husband

The apartment in central Geneva smelled new and expensive. Marcos, thirty-nine and a programmer at one of the city’s big financial firms, could afford it without blinking. His crown was already thinning and he had a soft belly that gave away too many hours in front of a screen, but he was a good man to an impossible degree, innocent about everything that wasn’t servers and lines of code.

Lucía, his twenty-four-year-old wife, was exactly the opposite. Wide hips, a round ass that moved on its own with every step, high, firm breasts, and dark hair falling down her back. They had been married for six months and she always said it had been for love. Marcos believed her with all his heart.

That afternoon, while he was working in his office, the phone rang. It was his younger brother.

—Marcos… sorry to bother you. I finished my tourism degree and I want to try my luck there, in Geneva. Bars, hotels, whatever comes up. But I still don’t have anywhere to stay.

—Come right away, Diego —Marcos answered without thinking twice—. The guest room is yours as long as you need it. Lucía and I will be happy to help you out.

Diego arrived two days later, with a backpack and an old suitcase. At twenty-one, he was tall, almost six foot three, with a body honed by all the soccer and gym work, brown skin, and a handsome face that was still a little shy. He and Lucía already knew each other: she had been friends with the village gang when he was the kid who always followed them around. They had known each other well, almost like an older sister and her younger brother.

—Diego, look how much you’ve grown! —Lucía exclaimed as soon as she saw him come in, with a wide smile—. My God, you’re already a full-grown man. Come here, give me a hug.

She went up and hugged him with easy confidence, pressing herself against him for a second longer than necessary. She was wearing cotton shorts so short they barely covered half her ass and a very thin white tank top, with nothing underneath. In the air-conditioning cold, her nipples showed clearly through the fabric. Marcos smiled from the doorway, giving it no importance at all.

—You’re home, brother. Whatever you need, just ask —he said, patting his shoulder.

From that very first moment, Diego could not stop looking at her. His eyes kept drifting again and again to Lucía’s body, to the way she moved, to how her breasts could be made out under the fabric and to that ass that looked like it was about to spill out of the shorts.

***

That same afternoon, Lucía decided to do the week’s laundry. She changed and appeared in the utility room wearing one of Marcos’s old T-shirts that barely covered the curve of her ass and a ridiculously tiny black thong.

She knelt in front of the washing machine, with the door open toward the hallway. Every time she bent down to put in the clothes, the T-shirt rode up and left her entire ass bare. The thong’s string disappeared between her glutes, round and firm, as if the garment didn’t exist. When she spread her legs a little to reach something she had dropped on the floor, she was fully exposed, the smooth skin flawless and shining from the heat.

Diego came out of his room at that exact moment and froze in the hallway. He had a direct, privileged view. He couldn’t look away, devouring every detail, the way she bent over again and again, offering him that display without the slightest shame. He felt his groin tighten all at once, hard as a rock, pushing against his tracksuit pants until it was impossible to hide. He crossed his hands in front and clenched his teeth.

She’s my brother’s wife. Stop it.

But he couldn’t stop looking.

***

The next day was worse. Lucía set about mopping the kitchen and living room floor wearing a very thin white slip top and some light, fitted shorts. Water from the bucket kept splashing everywhere and, after a few minutes, the wet fabric clung to her body like a second skin. Her breasts showed through in full detail, the dark, hard nipples pressing against the soaked cotton.

She was mopping with her back to the door, bent over, moving her hips in circles to the rhythm of the mop. Every time she leaned forward, the shorts rode up and showed half her ass and the black thread lost between them.

Diego walked past toward the fridge and stopped dead. The sight of Lucía all wet, with her breasts almost out and her ass outlined under the transparent fabric, took his breath away. He felt himself hardening again at once, a heavy stiffness that hurt inside his pants.

That afternoon, after showering, Diego came out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped very low around his waist. The towel was so short that it showed the line of hair running down from his navel and left a bulge impossible to ignore. He walked toward the kitchen, where Lucía was making dinner. When she saw him, her eyes opened a little wider and she let out a nervous laugh.

—Fuck, Diego… the water looks so good on you —she said, letting her gaze travel over him without hiding it—. You’ve changed so much since the village, huh?

Marcos, seated at the table with his laptop, looked up for only a second and smiled, distracted.

—Eat whatever you want, brother. You’re home here.

Diego sat down quickly and crossed his legs, but the towel opened for an instant and Lucía caught sight of the thickness of what it concealed, resting against his thigh. She swallowed and turned back to the pan, her cheeks flushed.

***

Later, while Marcos stayed in the office a while longer, Lucía and Diego were left alone in the kitchen. She looked at him with a mischievous smile and spoke softly.

—Hey… why have you been looking at me so much since you got here? I’ve caught you staring at me several times. At my ass when I was washing clothes, at my tits when I was mopping… Something going on, little brother-in-law?

Diego turned red all the way to his ears.

—I… no… it’s just that you’re very comfortable and… fuck, Lucía, you’re insanely hot. I can’t help it. Sorry.

She gave a soft laugh and moved a step closer.

—Relax… I like it when you look at me. It makes me feel wanted. Just be careful, okay? Marcos trusts people a lot, but don’t overdo it. Though… if you want to look, look. I don’t mind.

Diego swallowed again, the blood draining downward all at once.

***

The third night the three of them were watching a movie on the sofa. Lucía, in her thin slip top, complained.

—Ugh, my back is killing me from bending over all day…

She was sitting between the two men. Diego, more at ease now thanks to the absolute trust his brother gave him, dared to speak.

—If you want, I can give you a shoulder massage. I’m good at it, nothing weird.

Lucía looked at Marcos with an innocent face.

—Do you mind, love? It’s just a massage, it helps me relax.

Marcos, without taking his eyes off the screen, answered with complete naturalness.

—Go ahead. If it helps, perfect. Better yet… why don’t you do it in the little nook next to the living room? I bought oil and some fragrances months ago to give you massages and I never really knew how to do it right. Diego has better hands. You two go ahead, I’ll stay here. From the sofa I can watch you and keep up with the movie at the same time.

Lucía smiled wickedly.

—Oh, what a great idea, love. Then I’ll be more comfortable.

The nook was a semi-open space attached to the living room, with a massage table, dim lights, and a window that made everything clearly visible from the sofa. Marcos settled back in, with a direct view.

Lucía lay face down on the table. Diego took the vanilla and lavender oil from the shelf and started on her shoulders, his large, warm hands sliding over the thin slip top.

—Such soft shoulders you have, sis-in-law… —he murmured, already making the comment double-edged—. So delicate and so firm at the same time.

Lucía let out a muffled moan.

—Mmm… you’re squeezing so well. You really are strong. Not like others, who never gave me a proper massage…

Marcos laughed from the sofa without batting an eye.

—Keep going, keep going. You can tell you’re enjoying it, love.

She turned her head a little toward Diego and lowered her voice, though not enough that her husband couldn’t hear.

—Hey… do you remember the other day, when you came out of the shower with that tiny towel? It wasn’t covering anything. Everything was showing. You made me very nervous, you know?

Diego’s hands trembled on her back.

—Oh, yeah? I… I was embarrassed too. I didn’t know you’d be there.

Lucía gave a quiet laugh and shifted.

—Well, it looked… big. Very big. I spent the whole afternoon thinking about that.

As she spoke, she propped herself up a little and, without saying anything, pulled the slip top off over her head. She was left wearing a very short white sports top that barely covered her breasts.

—It’s hot with the oil… do you mind if I get more comfortable? —she asked with a feigned innocence that fooled no one.

Diego was already breathing heavier.

—No… not at all. You’re… perfect like that.

His hands slid down her back to the edge of the top. Lucía sighed.

—Go lower… my waist hurts too. You have such big hands…

Diego glanced sideways at Marcos, who every so often turned his head, smiled, and went back to the movie without saying a word.

—Your body is insane, Lucía… —he dared to say, his voice rough—. These hips… this ass so round. You’re the kind of woman who drives anyone crazy.

She lifted her ass a little.

—Oh, so you’ve suddenly turned naughty. You like my ass? Then pull my shorts down, so you can reach better… it’s only so you can massage deeper, okay?

Diego obeyed with trembling fingers. He slowly pulled her shorts down and left her in just the thong, the black string disappearing between her cheeks.

—Fuck… —he muttered.

—See? Now you can reach everywhere —she said, looking at him with shining eyes—. Keep going… press hard. I love the way you touch me.

Little by little, while Diego spread the oil over her lower back and brushed the edge of the thong, Lucía propped herself on her elbows, pulled off her top, and let it fall to the floor. His hands slid over her shining skin, and she was no longer even pretending that this was a massage.

—This is so much better… —she whispered—. Right, little brother-in-law?

Diego was fully hard again, straining against his pants. He looked back at Marcos, who at that moment turned his head, watched them for a second, smiled absently, and returned to the television as if none of it had anything to do with him.

Lucía, still face down, discreetly slid a hand between her legs. Her fingers slipped beneath the thong and started moving, slow at first, then more insistently. Her moans rose, rougher and rougher.

—Mmm… ahh… yes, right there, Diego… harder…

He was on the verge of collapse. His erection hurt for real, so hard he swore that with two rubs he’d come instantly. He clenched his jaw and kept kneading her lower back, his knuckles brushing her ass, while Lucía’s hand moved faster and faster under the black string.

Her moans grew deeper, almost choked off. Her whole body trembled. She came biting her lower lip to keep from crying out, pressing her thighs against her own hand as the wetness soaked her fingers and the thong. It was a long, silent orgasm, but audible enough that Marcos heard everything from the sofa.

He turned his head once more, watched the scene for a second, and went back to the movie without saying absolutely anything.

***

When the massage ended, Lucía slowly sat up, still breathing hard, cheeks flushed and wearing a smile of pure satisfaction. Diego, his groin throbbing in pain, stammered that he was going to the bathroom for a moment.

He locked himself in, pulled down his pants, and with only three desperate tugs exploded into the sink, coming like never before while thinking of every inch of his sister-in-law’s body, her laugh, her “if you want to look, look.”

That was how the first week under the same roof ended.

And no one, yet, imagined how far all of that was going to go.