‪‪❤︎‬ Dolly ‪‪❤︎‬ @islandofthedollz - Tumblr Blog

The Cuck's Lullaby

⁠❥T/W: Dark Fic, Dead dove, Angst, impregnation, toxic friendship, gaslighting, infidelity, slow burn, non con, resentment

⁠❥ I loved writing this made it extra long and juicy 33,349 words hope yall enjoy

The phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, its vibration rattling against the granite. Curly glanced at the caller ID - Jimmy - before swiping to answer with a sigh. He'd been hoping to enjoy the quiet morning with his wife before the chaos of the day began.

"Hey man," Curly said, leaning against the counter while watching (Y/N) move gracefully around the kitchen. She was already preparing his post-workout protein shake, just as she always did.

"Get your ass to the gym," Jimmy's voice crackled through the phone. "I need to spot you on chest day."

Curly ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright. Give me an hour."

"Make it forty minutes. I'm already on my way."

The line went dead before Curly could respond. Typical Jimmy - always demanding, always impatient.

"I'm heading to the gym," Curly said, turning to his wife. "Jimmy's already on his way there."

(Y/N) nodded, her lips curving into a soft smile. "I already made your shake," she said, gesturing to the blender. "Extra protein today since you're doing chest."

God, he loved this woman. Always thinking ahead, always taking care of him. Curly crossed the kitchen in three strides, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and pressing a kiss to her neck. She smelled like vanilla and home.

"You're too good to me," he murmured against her skin.

"You say that every day," she laughed, tilting her head to give him better access. "And every day I'll tell you that's what wives are for."

Curly spun her around and captured her lips in a deep kiss. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't miss me too much."

"Never," she teased, though her eyes told a different story.

The locker room at the gym smelled of sweat and cheap deodorant. Curly had just changed into his workout gear when Jimmy burst in, already looking agitated.

"Took you long enough," Jimmy grumbled, slamming his locker shut. "Some of us have jobs to get to later."

Curly just rolled his eyes. "Not all of us can survive on energy drinks and spite."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed as he sized Curly up. "Speaking of surviving - how do you do it? With the perfect house, perfect wife..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Man, I'd kill for what you have."

"She's not perfect," Curly said with a shrug, though they both knew he didn't believe that. (Y/N) was damn close to perfect in his eyes.

"Close enough," Jimmy sneered, pulling on his workout gloves. "Bet she's waiting at home right now with your dinner ready and your slippers warmed. Like a damn 1950s housewife."

Curly's jaw tightened slightly. "Watch how you talk about her."

Jimmy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no offense meant. It's just... impressive how well-trained she is. Must be nice coming home to someone who knows their place."

Curly chose not to engage, instead focusing on adjusting his weight belt. Jimmy always got like this when he was in one of his moods bitter and resentful of anyone who had something he wanted.

"So," Jimmy continued, lowering his voice as another gym member walked past. "How is she, really? In bed, I mean."

Curly hesitated. It was locker room talk, crude but normal between guys. Still, talking about (Y/N) like that with Jimmy always felt... off. But refusing would only lead to more questions, more probing.

He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "She's enthusiastic. Always has been."

Jimmy's eyes lit up with an unnerving intensity. "Yeah? Like how enthusiastic?"

Curly shifted uncomfortably. "Look, man, can we just work out?"

"Not until you give me details," Jimmy pressed, stepping closer. "I need to know if I should be jealous or just plain envious."

Curly sighed, running a hand over his face. "Fine. She's... responsive. Very responsive. And creative."

"Creative how?" Jimmy's voice had dropped to a near-whisper.

"Jesus, Jimmy," Curly said with a laugh. "She's my wife. I'm not giving you a play-by-play."

"Just one detail," Jimmy pleaded, though it sounded more like a demand. "Something that keeps you going through the day."

Curly considered it for a moment. What harm could one small detail do? It was just locker room talk, after all.

"She likes to surprise me," Curly finally said, lowering his voice. "Sometimes I'll come home and she'll be wearing something new under her regular clothes. Something just for me. And she'll give me this look... like she's been thinking about it all day."

Jimmy's breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening. "Yeah? And what do you do when she gives you that look?"

"What do you think?" Curly grinned. "I thank my lucky stars I married her."

Jimmy nodded slowly, a strange expression crossing his face - something between admiration and something else Curly couldn't quite identify. Something possessive.

"Lucky bastard," Jimmy muttered, turning toward the gym floor. "Let's lift."

As Curly followed him out, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just shared something he shouldn't have. But he pushed the thought away. It was just Jimmy being Jimmy crude and jealous, but harmless.

Wasn't he?

——-

The apartment door slammed shut behind Jimmy, the sound echoing in the small, cramped space of apartment 7B. He dropped his gym bag by the door, the familiar weight of it a comfort after another session watching Curly lift weights he could only dream of matching.

"Perfect wife," Jimmy muttered, kicking off his shoes. "Perfect life."

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap with his teeth before collapsing onto his worn-out couch. The springs groaned in protest. Across the room, his old television flickered to life, displaying some cheap porn he'd left running that morning. A woman with bleached-blonde hair was struggling against ropes, her fake sobs filling the small apartment.

Jimmy's mind wasn't on the screen, though. It was on (Y/N).

He closed his eyes, picturing her in the kitchen this morning - the way her hips swayed as she moved, the soft curve of her ass in those tight jeans, the gentle smile she'd given Curly before he left. A smile that should have been his.

His hand drifted to his crotch, rubbing himself through his sweatpants. He was already getting hard just thinking about her.

*She'd look so good in lingerie,* he thought, his breathing growing heavier. *Black lace, maybe. Something expensive. Something Curly couldn't afford.*

In his mind, he could see her clearly - (Y/N) stretched out on silk sheets, wearing nothing but black stockings that climbed up her perfect thighs and heels that made her legs look even longer. Her hair spread out around her head like a halo, those pretty eyes dark with desire as she looked up at him.

*Not at Curly. At me.*

Jimmy's hand slipped inside his sweatpants now, wrapping around his growing erection. He stroked himself slowly, teasingly, as the fantasy unfolded in his mind.

She'd be shy at first, hesitant. But he'd break her in gently. He'd show her what a real man could do, how a woman was supposed to be treated - worshiped, adored, but also claimed. Possessed.

He imagined peeling off those lace panties with his teeth, exposing her to his hungry gaze. She'd be wet already, dripping for him. He'd taste her first, make her beg with his tongue until she was writhing beneath him, crying out his name.

"Jimmy," she'd whimper. "Please, Jimmy."

Not Curly's name. His.

On screen, the scene changed. The kidnapped blonde was now being shared by two men, one holding her down while the other fucked her from behind. Jimmy barely noticed. His fantasy was far more compelling.

*How would she feel?* he wondered, stroking himself faster now. *Tight, probably. So tight around my cock. Curly probably doesn't even know how to fuck her right. Probably just pumps away for two minutes and rolls over.*

He'd take his time with (Y/N). He'd explore every inch of her body, memorize the places that made her gasp, the spots that made her arch her back. He'd make her come so many times she'd forget her own name, forget she'd ever been married to anyone else.

*Her pussy would feel like heaven,* he thought, his hips bucking into his hand now. *Warm and wet and squeezing me so tight. She'd beg for more. They always do.*

The porn on TV switched again - now it was some cuckold scenario, a pathetic husband watching as his friend impregnated his wife because the husband was shooting blanks. Jimmy laughed, a harsh, ugly sound in the quiet apartment.

*Pathetic,* he thought. *Just like Curly. Probably can't even get it up without (Y/N) holding his hand.*

In his fantasy, (Y/N was begging now. "Please, Jimmy. I need you. Only you."

He'd flip her over, entering her from behind so he could watch that perfect ass bounce against his hips. He'd grab her hair, pulling her head back to whisper filthy things in her ear - how much better he was than Curly, how she belonged to him now, how he'd fill her with his cum and mark her as his.

*Better,* he thought, his strokes becoming more frantic. *I'd fuck her so much better. Deeper. Harder. She'd never even think of Curly again after I was done with her.*

He could almost feel it - the heat of her body, the way she'd clench around him, the sound of her cries mixing with his own grunts of pleasure. He'd make her his in every way possible, ruin her for anyone else.

On screen, the friend was coming inside the wife now, filling her as the husband watched. Jimmy imagined doing the same to (Y/N), claiming her, marking her as his territory.

*She'd look so beautiful pregnant with my baby,* he thought, and that was it. That pushed him over the edge.

Jimmy came with a strangled cry, spilling over his hand and onto his sweatpants. For a moment, he just sat there, panting, the fantasy still playing in his mind. Then he looked down at the mess he'd made, at the pathetic reality of his lonely apartment and his cheap porn.

A wave of anger washed over him.

"It should be mine," he snarled, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV. "All of it."

He cleaned up with a paper towel, his movements rough and angry. Curly had everything - the good job, the nice house, the perfect wife. And what did Jimmy have? A cramped apartment, a dead-end job, and fantasies about another man's wife.

*Not for long,* he thought, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared at his reflection in the dark TV screen. *Not for long at all.*

——-

The plan began to form in Jimmy's mind over the next few days, a sickeningly brilliant scheme that he nurtured like a weed in the garden of his resentment. He watched Curly at the gym, studied his easy confidence, his genuine smile when he talked about (Y/N). It made Jimmy's stomach churn with a mixture of envy and determination.

He needed to break that perfect facade. Not just for a night, but forever.

The opportunity came a week later. Jimmy waited until Curly had just finished his final set of bench presses, his muscles trembling with exhaustion. Jimmy timed his approach perfectly, sliding onto the bench beside Curly's water bottle with a carefully constructed look of defeat.

"Tough day?" Curly asked, sitting up and wiping sweat from his brow.

Jimmy shook his head slowly, letting his shoulders slump. "Nah, man. Just... life, you know?" He stared at the scuffed floor of the gym, avoiding Curly's eyes. "Sometimes I wonder what the point of it all is."

Curly's expression softened with concern. "What's going on, Jimmy? You're not usually like this."

Jimmy let out a bitter laugh. "What's going on? I'm thirty-five years old, living in a shithole apartment, working a dead-end job. I come home to an empty place every night. No one waiting for me, no one who gives a damn if I live or die." He looked up then, his eyes deliberately glistening. "I see you with (Y/N), and I just... I wonder what I did wrong, you know? Why some guys get everything and others get nothing."

Curly shifted uncomfortably. "Come on, man. It's not like that. You just haven't met the right person yet."

"Right person," Jimmy scoffed, though he kept his voice quiet, vulnerable. "Who's going to want someone like me? I've got nothing to offer. No money, no future, no..." He trailed off, shaking his head again. "Sometimes I think I'll die alone, and no one will even notice until the smell gets bad."

That was it. The hook. Curly's face was etched with pity now, exactly what Jimmy had been aiming for.

"Hey, don't talk like that," Curly said, placing a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "You're my friend. You're not alone."

Jimmy flinched at the touch but didn't pull away. "Am I? Really? When was the last time we hung out outside of this gym? When was the last time you invited me over, not because you needed help with something, but just to... hang out?"

Curly's hand dropped away. "I'm sorry, man. I've been busy with..."

"With (Y/N)," Jimmy finished for him, his voice gentle but pointed. "And you should be. She's amazing. That's not what I'm saying. It's just..." He took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for what he was about to say next. "God, this is embarrassing."

"You can tell me anything," Curly said, his concern growing.

Jimmy looked around the gym to make sure no one was listening, then leaned closer. "It's just... it's been so long. Since I've been with a woman, I mean. And I'm not just talking about sex. I'm talking about... connection. Touch. Feeling wanted." He met Curly's eyes, his own wide with manufactured desperation. "Sometimes I think I'm going to lose my mind from it."

Curly ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable but feeling obligated to listen. "Jimmy, I..."

"I know, I know," Jimmy cut in quickly. "It's pathetic. But I'm being honest with you because you're my only real friend. And I trust you." He paused, letting that sink in before delivering the killing blow. "Sometimes at night... I think about (Y/N). Not like that! Not like I want to steal her or anything. Just... I think about how lucky you are. To have someone who loves you, who touches you, who wants you. And I get so jealous it physically hurts."

Curly's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of his wife, but the pity in his eyes remained. "Jimmy..."

"I know I shouldn't say that," Jimmy rushed on, his voice cracking slightly. "I know it's wrong. But I'm so lonely, man. So damn lonely I can't think straight sometimes. I'd give anything just to feel what you two have, even for one night."

They sat in silence for a moment, Jimmy carefully monitoring Curly's expression. He could see the wheels turning, the conflict between friendship and propriety playing out across Curly's face.

"What are you asking me, Jimmy?" Curly finally asked, his voice low.

Jimmy's heart raced. This was it. "I'm not asking anything," he said, though he was. "I'm just... telling you how I feel. How desperate I am. How much I admire what you have." He looked down at his hands, then back up at Curly. "If I were a different kind of man, I'd ask if... if maybe... but I'm not. I couldn't do that to you. To (Y/N)."

Curly was silent for a long time, so long that Jimmy worried he'd pushed too far. But then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She'd never agree to it."

Jimmy's pulse quickened. "Agree to what?"

"You know what," Curly said, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You and her."

"I would never ask her to cheat on you," Jimmy said quickly, though that was exactly what he intended. "And I'd never want you to... I don't know. I'm just talking out of my ass here."

But the seed was planted. Jimmy could see it in Curly's eyes, the flicker of consideration, of twisted loyalty to his friend. The idea that he could somehow help Jimmy, alleviate his suffering, without actually betraying (Y/N).

"It would have to be your idea," Jimmy said, testing the waters. "Something you suggested to her. Something you wanted."

Curly shook his head, but it was weaker this time. "She's not like that, Jimmy. She's traditional."

"Then maybe... maybe you could make it traditional," Jimmy suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Like... a favor between friends. Something that stays between us."

Curly looked up, his eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Jimmy took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "A one-time thing. Just once. I wear protection, obviously. No one ever has to know but us. Just... a friend helping a friend who's at the end of his rope." He met Curly's gaze directly, his expression earnest. "I swear to God, Curly. I would never touch her again. I would never even mention it. It would just be... a moment of kindness between friends. To help me feel human again."

Curly was silent for so long that Jimmy's palms began to sweat. He'd laid it all out, exposed his desperation (real or manufactured) and his desire (very real). Now it was up to Curly to either take the bait or reject it entirely.

Finally, Curly spoke, his voice rough with emotion. "I'd have to talk to her."

Jimmy's heart leaped, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. "Of course. Of course you would. And if she says no, we never speak of this again. I swear." He paused, then added the final piece of his manipulation. "But if she says yes... you'd be saving my life, man. Literally."

Curly nodded slowly, his face pale. "I'll... I'll think about it."

"I know this is a lot to ask," Jimmy said, standing up and grabbing his gym bag. "But I trust you. I know you'll do what's right." He paused at the edge of the weight room, then looked back. "And hey... if she does say yes, I promise. Full protection. No risks. Just... relief."

As he walked away, Jimmy allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. He knew Curly would talk to (Y/N). He knew Curly would frame it as an act of friendship, of charity. And he knew Curly would insist on protection.

What Curly didn't know - what (Y/N) would never suspect - was that the condom Jimmy would use would have a tiny pinprick in it, carefully made with a needle the night before. A tiny hole that would be more than enough for his sperm to find their way to their destination.

A baby. That was the key. A baby would bind (Y/N) to him forever, whether she wanted it or not. A baby would destroy Curly's perfect life and replace it with Jimmy's.

And the best part? Curly would be the one to deliver his own wife into Jimmy's arms, all in the name of friendship.

*Perfect,* Jimmy thought as he pushed through the gym doors and into the sunlight. *Absolutely fucking perfect.*

——-

The front door clicked shut behind Curly, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet house. He dropped his gym bag by the coat rack, his movements stiff and robotic. Every muscle in his body ached, but it was nothing compared to the knot twisting in his gut.

(Y/N) was in the living room, folding laundry on the coffee table. She looked up as he entered, her face breaking into a warm smile that made his stomach clench with guilt.

"Good workout?" she asked, setting aside a neatly folded towel.

Curly couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "Yeah. Fine."

He walked past her into the kitchen, needing the space, needing a moment to compose himself before he faced her. He opened the fridge and stared inside, though he wasn't actually hungry. He just needed an excuse not to look at her.

"You're quiet tonight," (Y/N) said, following him into the kitchen. She placed a gentle hand on his back. "Everything okay at the gym?"

Curly flinched at her touch, then immediately felt like an asshole. He forced himself to turn around, to face her concerned expression. "Just tired. Long day."

(Y/N)'s brow furrowed. "You seem more than tired. You seem... upset." She reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin. "Talk to me, honey. What's wrong?"

How could he tell her? How could he even begin to explain the disgusting conversation he'd had with Jimmy? The way his friend had looked at him with those desperate, pleading eyes. The sick proposal that had been hanging in the air between them, unsaid but understood.

*Jimmy wants to fuck you,* his brain screamed. *And I'm actually considering it.*

"Curly?" (Y/N)'s voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You're scaring me."

He shook his head, forcing a weak smile. "Nothing's wrong. Just... Jimmy's going through a tough time. Really struggling with being alone."

(Y/N)'s expression didn't soften with sympathy this time. Instead, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Jimmy," she said, the name tasting like something sour in her mouth. "Let me guess. He was being himself again?"

Curly sighed, already anticipating where this conversation was going. "He's just lonely, (Y/N). He's in a bad place."

"He's always in a bad place," she countered, crossing her arms. "And he always makes sure everyone around him knows it. Did he make another one of his 'jokes' about how I'm just a Stepford wife waiting for you at home?"

"No, nothing like that," Curly lied, though Jimmy had come close enough. "He was just... really down today. Talking about how he has nothing, no one."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a gesture that always made Curly defensive. "Oh, here we go. The Jimmy Sob Story, Part 57. Let me guess you feel bad for him now?"

"He's my friend," Curly said, his voice tight. "And he's hurting. Is it so wrong to feel bad for him?"

"It's wrong that he uses your friendship to manipulate you," (Y/N) shot back, her voice rising. "It's wrong that he's always making these little digs at me, at our life, and you just let it slide because 'Jimmy's having a tough time'."

"He doesn't mean anything by it," Curly said, the words coming out automatically, the way they always did when they argued about Jimmy. "He's just... blunt. He doesn't have a filter."

"Or maybe he's just an asshole who's jealous of what we have," (Y/N) suggested, her hands on her hips now. "Did you ever consider that? That maybe he resents you for having a good job and a nice house and a wife who actually gives a damn about you?"

"Of course he's jealous," Curly admitted, though it felt like a betrayal to say it out loud. "But that doesn't mean he's a bad person. He's just... struggling."

"He's struggling because he makes terrible choices and blames everyone else for his problems," (Y/N) argued. "And you enable him by always making excuses for him. 'Jimmy's had it rough.' 'Jimmy doesn't mean it.' 'Jimmy's just going through a phase.' When are you going to see him for what he really is?"

"And what's that?" Curly challenged, though he already knew what she'd say.

"A leech," (Y/N) said without hesitation. "A miserable, manipulative leech who feeds off your sympathy and resents you for having more than him. He's not your friend, Curly. He's a parasite."

"That's not fair," Curly protested, though part of him wondered if she was right. "We've been friends since college. He's been there for me through a lot."

"Name one time," (Y/N) challenged, her eyes narrowed. "Name one time Jimmy has actually been there for you without asking for something in return."

Curly opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He couldn't think of a single example. Every time Jimmy had "helped" him, there had been strings attached, expectations created, debts incurred.

"See?" (Y/N) said, her expression triumphant. "You can't, because he never has. He takes and he takes, and you let him because you're too damn nice to see it."

"He was really bad today," Curly said finally, deciding to test the waters with a partial truth. "Worse than usual. Talking about how alone he is, how he'll probably die without anyone ever loving him."

(Y/N)'s expression softened slightly, though her arms remained crossed. "That's sad, I guess. But it's not your responsibility to fix his life, Curly. It's not your job to find him a girlfriend or make him happy."

"I know," Curly said, though he wasn't sure he believed it. "But I feel bad for him. Really bad."

"You always feel bad for him," (Y/N) pointed out. "And what does it get you? More guilt trips? More manipulation? When are you going to put me, put us, first?"

"I do put you first!" Curly insisted, though Jimmy's proposal from earlier contradicted that claim.

"Do you?" (Y/N) challenged. "Because it seems like you spend more time worrying about Jimmy's feelings than you do about mine. You defend him every time I point out what he's really like. You make excuses for him when he's clearly being inappropriate. Sometimes I wonder if you're even on my side."

"Of course I'm on your side," Curly said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Then why do you always defend him?" (Y/N) demanded, her voice cracking with frustration. "Why do you let him get away with saying things about me, about us, that you'd never let anyone else get away with?"

Curly had no answer for that. Because the truth was, he didn't know why he put up with Jimmy's behavior. Habit, maybe. Some misguided sense of loyalty. Or maybe, deep down, he felt sorry for him in a way that overrode everything else.

"Look," (Y/N) said, her voice softening slightly as she stepped closer to him. "I know he's your friend. I know you feel some obligation to him. But you need to see him for what he really is. He's not a good person, Curly. And he's definitely not a good friend to you."

Curly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I know," he murmured against her hair, though he wasn't sure he did know. Not completely. "I'll be better about setting boundaries. I promise."

(Y/N) relaxed against him, though he could feel the tension still in her shoulders. "You say that every time," she said quietly. "And then he calls, and you're right back where you started - feeling guilty and making excuses."

"Not this time," Curly promised, though even as he said the words, he was thinking about Jimmy's desperate face, his pleading eyes. About the twisted proposal that had been hanging between them, unsaid but understood.

*She'd never agree to it,* Curly thought, his arms tightening around his wife. *But Jimmy was right about one thing - I am lucky to have her. And I can't let him ruin that.*

But even as he held (Y/N) close, vowing to protect their relationship from Jimmy's toxic influence, a small part of him wondered if he was strong enough to turn away from a friend who so clearly needed help. Even if that help came at a terrible cost.

——

The buzz of his phone on the nightstand pulled Jimmy from a restless sleep. He squinted at the screen, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face when he saw Curly's name. He let it ring a few more times, just to savor the anticipation, before swiping to answer.

"Tell me," Jimmy said, his voice thick with sleep and expectation.

There was a pause on the other end, filled with the sound of Curly's heavy breathing. "I... I haven't asked her yet."

Jimmy's grin vanished. "What the hell do you mean, you haven't asked her yet? I laid it all out for you yesterday."

"I know, man, but..." Curly trailed off. "It's not that simple. I tried to feel her out, and she was not receptive. At all."

Jimmy sat up in bed, his irritation mounting. "Not receptive? What does that mean? Did you even try? Or did you just chicken out the second she looked at you with those big, innocent eyes?"

"She's not going to go for it, Jimmy," Curly insisted, his voice strained. "She thinks you're a manipulative leech who's trying to ruin our marriage."

Jimmy laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Of course she does. Women always think the worst when they don't get it. That's why you don't ask. You tell. You frame it as something you've decided, something that's happening, and she just needs to get on board."

"I can't do that to her," Curly protested weakly. "She's not... she's not like that. She's not just some object I can lend out."

"Isn't she?" Jimmy sneered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "That's not what you told me yesterday. Yesterday you were all ready to help a friend in need. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," Curly said, though he sounded unconvincing. "I just... I need more time."

"Time is exactly what I don't have," Jimmy shot back, his voice rising with frustration. "I'm drowning here, Curly. I told you that. And you're my only lifeline. Are you really going to let me drown because you're scared of a little conversation?"

There was silence on the other end, and Jimmy knew he had him. Curly was too soft, too guilt-ridden to withstand a full-on assault of his manufactured desperation.

"Look," Jimmy said, softening his tone slightly. "I get it. It's a big ask. But I'm at the end of my rope here. I'm not sleeping, I'm not eating... all I can think about is how alone I am, how empty my life is. And I see you with (Y/N), and I just... I need a taste of that. Just once. To remember what it feels like to be human."

He could hear Curly's soft sigh, the sound of surrender. "I'll try again. I'll figure out a way to bring it up."

"Good man," Jimmy said, his mood lifting immediately. "I knew I could count on you. We're brothers, right?"

"Right," Curly echoed, though his voice was heavy with resignation.

After hanging up, Jimmy lay back in bed, his mind already racing with the possibilities. He closed his eyes, picturing it clearly now - Curly, finally manning up and telling (Y/N) how it was going to be. Her initial resistance, then reluctant acceptance. And finally, the moment he'd been dreaming of.

In his mind's eye, he could see it all. The three of them in Curly and (Y/N)'s perfect bedroom, with its matching comforter and tasteful decor. (Y/N) on the bed, looking nervous but obedient, wearing something lacy and black that Curly had probably never seen her in before.

And Curly... oh, Curly would be right there, watching. Maybe even participating. Jimmy's cock twitched at the thought. He could picture Curly holding (Y/N)'s legs open for him, his face a mask of conflicted arousal and guilt. "Go ahead, man," Curly would say. "She's ready for you."

Jimmy's hand drifted to his growing erection as the fantasy unfolded. He'd start slow, teasing (Y/N) until she was writhing beneath him, until she forgot all about her husband and focused only on the pleasure he was giving her. He'd make her come with his mouth first, just to show her what she'd been missing, to prove that he knew her body better than Curly ever could.

Then he'd enter her, slow and deep, watching her face as she adjusted to his size. Curly would be right there, holding her hand maybe, or stroking her hair, telling her it was okay, that this was for a good cause.

*For a good cause,* Jimmy thought with a snicker, his hand moving faster on his cock now. *Yeah, right.*

He'd fuck her then, hard and deep, the way she'd never been fucked before. He'd angle his hips just right, hitting that spot inside her that would make her see stars, make her forget her own name. And Curly would watch, would see how much she was enjoying it, how much better he was at pleasing her than her own husband.

*Look how she responds to me,* Jimmy imagined thinking. *Look how much she wants it. This isn't just for me, Curly. She needs this too.*

In his fantasy, (Y/N) was crying out now, her hips bucking to meet his thrusts, her nails digging into his back. "Jimmy," she'd whimper. "Oh, God, Jimmy."

Not Curly's name. His.

And Curly would just watch, his face pale with a mixture of arousal and regret as he realized he'd unleashed something he could never control. Something that would change everything between them forever.

Jimmy came with a groan, spilling over his stomach as the fantasy reached its peak. He lay there for a moment, panting, his mind still replaying the scene. Then he smiled, slow and satisfied.

It was going to happen. He could feel it. Curly was too weak, too guilt-ridden to say no for long. Soon, very soon, (Y/N) would be his, at least for one night. And one night was all he needed to ruin her for Curly forever.

The next day, Jimmy was waiting for Curly at the gym, practically vibrating with anticipation. He'd been thinking about it all night, replaying their conversation, refining his strategy. He knew exactly how to play this.

Curly walked in looking exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. Jimmy's heart leaped - had he been up all night agonizing over how to ask his wife to fuck his best friend? Perfect.

"Hey man," Jimmy said, falling into step beside Curly as he headed toward the locker room. "Tough night?"

Curly just grunted in response, avoiding eye contact.

"So," Jimmy pressed, unable to contain his excitement. "Did you talk to her?"

Curly stopped walking, turning to face Jimmy with a pained expression. "Look, man, about that..."

Jimmy's stomach dropped. "Don't tell me you chickened out again."

"I didn't chicken out," Curly protested weakly. "I just... it's complicated. She's really not happy with you right now. With us, even."

"That's because you're going about it all wrong," Jimmy said, his voice dropping with false concern. "You're making it sound like some big, scary thing when it's just... a moment of kindness between friends."

Curly sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I don't think she sees it that way."

"Of course she doesn't, not the way you're probably explaining it," Jimmy said, placing a hand on Curly's shoulder and steering him toward a quieter corner of the gym. "Look, let me help you. Let me tell you exactly what to say."

Curly looked skeptical, but Jimmy could see the desperation in his eyes - the need for an easy solution, a way out of the impossible situation Jimmy had created.

"You need to frame it as something you want," Jimmy began, his voice low and persuasive. "Something that turns you on, even. Tell her you've always had this fantasy about sharing her, about watching her with another man. Make it about your desires, not mine."

Curly's face flushed with embarrassment. "I can't tell her that. She'll think I'm a pervert."

"All men are perverts, Curly," Jimmy said with a dismissive wave. "Women know that. What they don't like is when we try to pretend we're not. Be honest with her. Tell her it's something you've been thinking about for a while, something that would make you happy."

"And if she still says no?" Curly asked, though he was clearly considering Jimmy's suggestion.

"Then you respect her decision," Jimmy said, though he had no intention of letting that happen. "But at least you tried, right? At least you were honest with her about what you want."

He could see Curly wavering, the guilt and desire warring on his face. Time to bring out the heavy artillery.

"Look at me, Curly," Jimmy said, his voice dropping with manufactured vulnerability. "I'm not asking for much here. Just one night. One moment of connection in a life that's completely empty. Is that really so much to ask from your best friend?"

Curly's expression softened, just as Jimmy knew it would. "No, man. It's not."

"Then you'll try again?" Jimmy pressed, his eyes wide with hope. "You'll really try, this time?"

Curly nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah, Jimmy. I'll try again."

Jimmy's heart raced with triumph. "Good. That's all I'm asking." He clapped Curly on the back, steering him toward the weight room. "Now let's lift. I've got a lot of... energy to work out today."

As Curly began his warm-up, Jimmy watched him with a satisfied smile. It was working. His manipulation was working. Soon, very soon, (Y/N) would be his, and Curly would be the one to deliver her into his arms, all in the name of friendship.

*Perfect,* Jimmy thought, adjusting himself through his shorts. *Absolutely fucking perfect.*

——-

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the only light in the otherwise dark house. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of their lovemaking - sweat and perfume and the unique smell of sex that always clung to them afterward. Curly lay on his back, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath, while (Y/N) was draped across him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, her fingers idly tracing patterns in his chest hair.

"That was nice," (Y/N) murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes soft and sated. "Really nice."

Curly smiled, running his hand down the smooth curve of her back. "It's always nice with you." He leaned down to capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of intimacy and familiarity. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth.

"I love you too," she replied, snuggling closer to him. "Even when you're being an idiot about Jimmy."

Curly's smile faltered slightly. "Can we not talk about Jimmy right now? I just want to enjoy this."

(Y/N) propped herself up on his chest, looking down at him with a serious expression. "We need to talk about him eventually, Curly. I don't like what he's doing to you. I don't like how he makes you feel guilty for having a good life."

"I know," Curly said, though his mind was already drifting back to their conversation yesterday, to Jimmy's desperate face and pleading eyes. To the twisted proposal that had been hanging between them, unsaid but understood.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," (Y/N) continued, her fingers resuming their exploration of his chest hair. "Promise me you won't let him manipulate you into doing something you'll regret."

Curly took a deep breath, his heart starting to pound. This was it. The moment Jimmy had been pushing him toward. The moment that could either destroy his marriage or fulfill his best friend's twisted request.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I need you to really listen, not just react."

(Y/N)'s brow furrowed with concern. "Okay..."

"First, I want you to know that I love you more than anything," Curly began, his hands coming up to frame her face. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I would never, ever do anything to hurt you intentionally."

"Curly, you're scaring me," (Y/N) said, her eyes wide with worry.

"Just listen," he pleaded. "What I'm about to say... it's not about Jimmy. Not really. It's about me. About something I've been thinking about for a long time, something I've been too ashamed to admit, even to myself."

(Y/N) remained silent, waiting for him to continue, though he could see the fear growing in her eyes.

"I have this fantasy," Curly said, the words feeling foreign and wrong as they left his mouth. "Something I've thought about... a lot. And I'm worried that if I tell you, you'll think differently about me. That you'll see me as some kind of... pervert.

"Nothing you could say would make me think that," (Y/N) said, though her voice trembled slightly.

Curly took another deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I've always had this fantasy about... sharing you. With another man."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. (Y/N) just stared at him, her expression unreadable, her body suddenly tense against his.

"Not just anyone," Curly rushed to explain, his words tumbling over each other in his desperation to make this sound reasonable. "Someone I trust, someone who would respect you, who would treat you right. But the idea of... watching you with someone else. Seeing you pleasured by another man while I'm there..." He trailed off, searching her face for any sign of understanding, of acceptance. "It's something I've thought about for years. Something that turns me on in a way I can't really explain."

(Y/N) remained silent for so long that Curly's heart began to pound with panic. He'd ruined it. He'd destroyed the perfect intimacy they'd just shared, all because Jimmy had gotten inside his head with his manipulation and guilt trips.

"Say something," Curly pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, just say something."

(Y/N) shook her head slowly, as if trying to clear it. "I don't understand. Where is this coming from? All these years, and you've never mentioned anything like this before."

"Because I was ashamed," Curly admitted, though that wasn't entirely the truth. "Because I was worried you'd react exactly like this - like I'm some kind of freak."

"I don't think you're a freak," (Y/N) said, though her voice was strained. "I just... I don't understand. Is this something you actually want to do? Or is it just a fantasy?"

Curly hesitated, knowing his answer would determine the course of their conversation and possibly their marriage. "I don't know," he lied. "Maybe? Sometimes I think it would be... hot. To watch. To see you lose control with someone else, to know that you're enjoying yourself so much."

(Y/N) rolled off him, sitting up and pulling the sheet around herself. "And who exactly is this 'other man' you've been fantasizing about? Do I know him?"

Curly's stomach twisted with guilt. "It's not a specific person," he lied again. "It's more the idea of it. The taboo, the novelty. The... visual."

But (Y/N) was smart. She could read him better than anyone. Her eyes narrowed as she connected the dots. "This is about Jimmy, isn't it? Your conversation with him yesterday, him being 'lonely'... you're trying to find a way to help him, aren't you? By offering me up like some kind of... sacrificial lamb?"

"It's not like that," Curly protested, though he knew, on some level, that it was exactly like that. "I've had this fantasy long before yesterday's conversation. Jimmy just... made me think about it more. Made me wonder if maybe it was something we could actually explore."

(Y/N) just shook her head, her expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you'd even suggest something so... so degrading. So disrespectful to me, to us."

"It's not degrading!" Curly insisted, sitting up and reaching for her. "It's about pleasure, about exploration, about pushing boundaries together. As a couple."

"As a couple?" (Y/N) shot back, pulling away from his touch. "How is bringing another man into our bed something we do 'as a couple'? How is that anything other than you wanting to watch me get fucked by someone else?"

"Because I'd be there!" Curly argued, though he could hear how weak that sounded. "Because it would be my choice too, something we both agreed to. Something we both wanted."

"I don't want this," (Y/N) said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I never wanted this. I thought we were happy, Curly. I thought our sex life was good. I thought we were enough for each other."

"We are!" Curly insisted, though he knew the words were hollow now. "This doesn't change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me love you more, knowing that I can share you and still have you come back to me."

(Y/N) just stared at him, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want to be shared, Curly. I don't want to be some... some object in your fantasy. I want to be your wife. Your only wife. Is that not enough for you?"

"Of course it's enough," Curly pleaded, his own eyes starting to burn with unshed tears. "You're more than enough. You're everything. This is just... something else. Something extra. It doesn't have to change how we feel about each other."

"It already has," (Y/N) whispered, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "The moment you asked me to do this, it changed everything."

Curly watched her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears, at the hurt and betrayal in her eyes. He'd done exactly what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do - he'd let Jimmy manipulate him into suggesting something that had shattered the perfect intimacy they'd just shared.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I never should have said anything. It was a stupid fantasy, and I should have kept it to myself."

(Y/N) shook her head, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "No, you should have told me. I'm glad you did. At least now I know." She looked at him then, her expression so full of disappointment that it felt like a physical blow. "I just wish I knew if this was really your fantasy, or if it was Jimmy's."

Curly had no answer for that. Because the truth was, he wasn't sure anymore. It had started as Jimmy's twisted request, his manipulation and guilt trip. But somewhere along the way, Curly had started to wonder... what if it wasn't so crazy? What if it could be hot, watching (Y/N) with someone else? What if it could bring them closer, rather than tearing them apart?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he'd opened a door he could never close again, and he wasn't sure their marriage would survive the consequences.

———-

The locker room at the gym was unusually quiet for a Tuesday morning. Curly sat on the worn wooden bench, staring at the scuffed floor, replaying the conversation with (Y/N) over and over in his mind. The way her face had fallen, the tears in her eyes, the accusation in her voice when she'd asked if it was really his fantasy or Jimmy's.

"Rough night?" Jimmy's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Curly looked up to see his friend stripping off his shirt, revealing a torso that was surprisingly well-defined beneath the layer of bitterness he usually carried.

"You have no idea," Curly said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"So you told her," Jimmy stated, not asked. He already knew the answer from the look on Curly's face.

Curly just nodded, unable to find the words to explain the disaster that had unfolded.

"How'd she take it?" Jimmy pressed, though he seemed to already know the answer. "Let me guess - tears, accusations, questions about your fidelity and sanity?"

"Something like that," Curly admitted, rubbing his temples. "She thinks I'm trying to pimp her out to you. That this whole thing is your idea, not mine."

Jimmy laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed in the small space. "Of course she does. Women always think the worst. They can't wrap their pretty little heads around the idea that a man might have complex sexual desires. It's always either you're a saint or you're a pervert. No in-between."

Curly looked up, frowning. "That's not fair. She was just... surprised. Hurt."

"Hurt?" Jimmy sneered, pulling on his workout gloves. "Please. She's a housewife, Curly. Her entire job is to cater to your needs, including your sexual ones. If her husband has a fantasy, her job is to help fulfill it, not question it. That's how this works."

"That's not how it works with us," Curly protested, though his conviction was wavering. "We're partners. Equals."

"Are you?" Jimmy challenged, stepping closer to where Curly sat. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she calls the shots. She decides what you do, where you go, who you talk to. And now she's deciding what you're allowed to fantasize about? That doesn't sound very equal to me."

Curly didn't have a response to that, because part of him wondered if Jimmy was right. (Y/N) was strong-willed, opinionated. She didn't just cater to his needs; she had her own, and she made them known. Usually, he loved that about her. But right now, in the face of Jimmy's certainty, it felt like a flaw.

"Look," Jimmy said, his voice softening with false concern. "I get it. You're confused. You've been told your whole life that monogamy is the only way, that wanting anything else makes you a bad person. But that's not true. It's just what they tell you to keep you in line."

Curly looked up, meeting Jimmy's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that wanting to watch your wife with another man doesn't make you a pervert," Jimmy explained, his voice low and persuasive. "It makes you adventurous. Open-minded. Confident enough in your relationship to know that a little extra spice isn't going to ruin it."

He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "In fact, it could make it stronger. Think about it - you share this incredible, intimate experience together. You watch her lose control in a way she never has before, and afterward, you're the one she comes back to. You're the one she chooses. That has to count for something, right?"

Curly's mind was racing now, the thought taking root and growing. "I... I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Of course you haven't," Jimmy said with a dismissive wave. "You've been too busy feeling guilty about wanting something natural. Something exciting."

Curly stood up, grabbing his weight belt from his locker. "I don't know, man. She was really upset. I don't think I can push this."

"Then don't push it," Jimmy said, though he was clearly pushing. "Just plant the seed. Let it grow. The more she thinks about it, the more she'll realize it's not so crazy. That it might actually be... hot."

Curly hesitated, his mind already drifting back to the fantasy Jimmy had described. The idea of watching (Y/N) with someone else, seeing her lose control, knowing that she would still come back to him afterward. There was something... compelling about it. Something that made his pulse quicken and his breath catch.

"I have been thinking about it," Curly admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "About how it would be kinda... sexy to watch her with someone else. To see her pleasure in a way I've never seen before."

Jimmy's eyes lit up with triumph, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. "See? It's not so crazy when you say it out loud, is it?"

"No," Curly agreed, though part of him still felt guilty for even considering it. "I guess not."

"In fact," Jimmy continued, pressing his advantage, "the more I think about it, the more I think it could bring us closer. Sharing something so intimate, so taboo... it could either destroy us or make us stronger than ever. And isn't that worth risking?"

Curly's mind was reeling now, the thought taking hold and growing. He imagined it clearly (Y/N) with another man, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her body arching with pleasure. And afterward, her in his arms, whispering about how it felt, how different it was, how much she loved him for letting her experience it.

"Yeah," Curly said, his voice growing stronger with conviction. "Yeah, it could. It could bring us closer."

"Exactly," Jimmy said, clapping him on the back. "Now you're thinking like a man, not a guilty little boy."

Curly smiled, though it felt forced. He was still conflicted, still torn between his desire to please (Y/N) and his growing fascination with the fantasy Jimmy had planted in his mind. But for the first time, he was starting to believe that maybe it wasn't so crazy after all. Maybe it was something they could actually explore, something that could enhance their relationship rather than destroying it.

"So what do I do now?" Curly asked, turning to face Jimmy. "How do I convince her?"

"You don't convince her," Jimmy said, his voice dropping with false wisdom. "You seduce her. Make it sound like the sexiest, most intimate thing you could ever do together. Make it about connection, about exploration, about pushing boundaries together."

He paused, meeting Curly's eyes directly. "And if she still says no... then you respect her decision. But at least you tried, right? At least you were honest with her about what you want."

Curly nodded, though he was already planning how to bring it up again, how to frame it in a way that would make (Y/N) see it as he did now - not as a betrayal, but as an opportunity for growth, for deeper intimacy, for something exciting and new.

As they headed out to the weight room, Curly felt a sense of resolve he hadn't felt before. He was going to make this happen. He was going to convince (Y/N) that this was something they could explore together, something that could bring them closer rather than tearing them apart.

And Jimmy... Jimmy would be there to help him, to guide him, to make sure it all went according to plan. Because that's what friends did, right? They helped each other, even when it was difficult. Even when it was complicated.

Even when it was wrong.

Curly pushed that thought aside, focusing instead on the growing excitement in his chest. This was going to be good. This was going to be hot. And it was going to bring him and (Y/N) closer than ever before.

Or so he told himself.

——

Two weeks had passed since their disastrous conversation. Two weeks of tense silence and forced smiles, of (Y/N) trying to pretend everything was normal while Curly lived in a state of constant, simmering arousal. The fantasy, once a shameful secret, had taken root in his mind and was now flourishing in the dark, hidden corners of his consciousness.

It started innocently enough. A late night when (Y/N) was already asleep, Curly lying in bed with his tablet, unable to switch off his brain. He'd typed "wife sharing" into the search bar, his heart pounding with a mixture of guilt and excitement. The results had been... eye-opening.

He'd fallen down a rabbit hole of cuckold videos, each one more compelling than the last. He watched them with the volume low, one ear always straining for the sound of (Y/N) stirring in her sleep. At first, he just watched, mesmerized by the raw, unfiltered intimacy of it all. Then he started to imagine.

It was always (Y/N)'s face he superimposed on the women in the videos. Her body, her voice, her reactions. He imagined her in those scenarios, her initial hesitation giving way to reluctant pleasure, then to outright enthusiasm. He imagined her looking at him with a mixture of love and lust as another man pleasured her, imagined her whispering his name even as she was being taken by someone else.

The more he watched, the more he wanted. The fantasy was no longer just a passing thought; it was an obsession, a craving that gnawed at him constantly. He found himself looking at (Y/N) differently, seeing her not just as his wife, but as a sexual being who could be shared, who could be experienced in new and exciting ways.

He started masturbating more, always to the same fantasy. Always with (Y/N)'s face in his mind, her voice in his ears. He felt guilty afterward, ashamed of his desires, but the shame only made the fantasy more potent, more compelling.

Today, he'd come home from work early, his mind already racing with possibilities. (Y/N) was out running errands, giving him the perfect opportunity to indulge his obsession. He'd stripped down to nothing, lying on their bed with his tablet propped against the pillows, a video playing of a husband eagerly filming his wife with a well-endowed stranger.

Curly's hand moved slowly, teasingly, along his hardened length as he watched the scene unfold. In his mind, it was him behind the camera, it was (Y/N) on the bed, her legs wrapped around another man's waist as he drove into her again and again.

*Look at her,* he imagined thinking. *Look how much she's enjoying it. Look how beautiful she is when she's lost in pleasure.*

He could almost hear her moans, almost feel the heat of her body as she writhed beneath the stranger. He imagined her looking at him, her eyes dark with desire as she was being fucked by someone else, imagined her whispering his name as she came.

"Curly," she'd whimper. "Oh, God, Curly, I'm coming."

That was it. That was the thought that pushed him over the edge. He came with a strangled cry, spilling over his stomach as the fantasy reached its peak. He lay there for a moment, panting, his mind still replaying the scene as the video continued to play on the tablet.

"Curly?"

The sound of her voice made him jump, his eyes flying open in panic. (Y/N) was standing in the doorway, her grocery bags forgotten at her feet, her face pale with shock.

He fumbled for the tablet, trying to shut it off, but it was too late. She'd seen everything. The video, his state of undress, the evidence of his recent release still glistening on his stomach.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing," Curly stammered, grabbing a pillow to cover himself. "I was just... I didn't think you'd be home yet."

(Y/N) just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes drifted to the tablet, which he'd managed to pause but not close. On the screen, a woman was frozen in mid-moan, her face contorted with pleasure as a man hovered over her, clearly about to enter her.

"Is that what you've been doing?" (Y/N) asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Watching these... videos? Imagining me in them?"

Curly's face flushed with shame. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't it?" (Y/N) challenged, though her voice was surprisingly calm. "You're lying in our bed, masturbating to videos of other men fucking women who are supposed to be me. How am I supposed to take that?"

"I'm sorry," Curly pleaded, sitting up and clutching the pillow to his chest. "I didn't mean for you to find out like this. I didn't mean for you to find out at all."

(Y/N) stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "So you really do have this fantasy," she said, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "It's not just something you said in the heat of the moment. It's something you've been actively thinking about. Fantasizing about."

Curly nodded, unable to meet her eyes. "I can't stop thinking about it," he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Every time we're together, every time I look at you, I imagine it. What it would be like to watch you with someone else. What it would be like to see you lose control in a way you never have with me."

(Y/N) just stared at him, her expression so blank that it was more unnerving than anger would have been. "And does it turn you on?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "The thought of me with another man? Does it make you hard?"

Curly hesitated, then nodded again. "Yes," he whispered. "It does."

(Y/N) crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what about me? Have you thought about how I would feel? Or is this all about your pleasure, your fantasy?"

"Of course I've thought about you," Curly protested, though he knew he hadn't thought about her nearly as much as he should have. "I imagined you enjoying it. I imagined you coming harder than you ever have before, losing control in a way that would be... beautiful to watch."

"Beautiful," (Y/N) repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think it would be beautiful to watch your wife be fucked by another man? To know that she was enjoying someone else's touch, someone else's cock?"

Curly flinched at her crude language, but he couldn't deny the truth of it. "Yes," he said, his voice barely audible. "I do."

(Y/N) was silent for a long time, just staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. Curly held his breath, waiting for her to explode, to cry, to pack her bags and leave him for good.

Instead, she did something he never would have expected. She laughed.

It wasn't a happy laugh. It was a harsh, bitter sound that held no humor, only pain and disbelief. "All this time," she said, shaking her head. "All this time, I thought we were happy. I thought our sex life was good. I thought I was enough for you."

"You are!" Curly insisted, though he knew the words were meaningless now. "This doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Doesn't it?" (Y/N) challenged, her eyes flashing with anger. "Because it seems to me that you've been lying to me. Lying by omission, anyway. You've been keeping this huge part of yourself hidden from me, this fantasy that's so consuming you can't even wait until I'm not home to indulge it."

"I was going to tell you," Curly lied. "I just didn't know how."

"Right," (Y/N) said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You were going to tell me that you've been secretly watching porn and fantasizing about me with other men. I'm sure that would have gone over well."

She turned away from him, pacing the room like a caged animal. "I don't know what to do, Curly. I don't know how to unsee what I just saw. I don't know how to go back to the way things were before."

"We don't have to go back," Curly pleaded, seeing an opportunity. "We can move forward. Together. We can explore this, if you're willing."

(Y/N) stopped pacing, turning to face him with a look of incredulity. "Explore it? You want me to... what? Find some stranger to fuck while you watch? Is that what you're asking me?"

Curly's heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Maybe," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you wanted to. If you were curious."

(Y/N) just shook her head, her expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief. "I need some time," she said finally, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need to think."

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Curly alone with his shame and his fantasy. He knew he should feel guilty, should feel remorse for what he'd done, for the pain he'd caused her.

But as he lay back on the bed, his mind already drifting back to the video on the tablet, all he could feel was a sickening thrill of anticipation. The seed had been planted, and now, thanks to his carelessness, it was finally starting to grow.

And he couldn't wait to see what would bloom.

—-

The clinking of silverware against porcelain and the low murmur of conversation filled the upscale brunch spot. (Y/N) sat at a table with three of her closest friends, mechanically pushing a piece of avocado toast around her plate while her mind replayed the scene from yesterday. Curly on their bed, the tablet, the look of panicked shame on his face. It was on a loop, a filmstrip of horror she couldn't shut off.

"So, I told Mark," said Chloe, a real estate agent with a notoriously wild side, "that if he wanted to try anal, the least he could do was let me peg him first. Fair's fair, you know?"

The table erupted in laughter. (Y/N) managed a weak smile, her mind a million miles away.

"Oh my God, Chloe, you didn't!" gasped Rebecca, a elementary school teacher who looked far too innocent for the conversation.

"I did," Chloe confirmed, taking a triumphant sip of her mimosa. "And let me tell you, the power dynamic in our bedroom has never been better. It's amazing what a little strap-on can do for a marriage."

"What about you, Becca?" Chloe pressed, turning her attention to the blushing teacher. "Still doing it with the lights off and your pajamas on?"

Rebecca's blush deepened. "We... we've been trying new things," she admitted quietly. "We bought those dice. You know? The ones with the body parts and the actions on them? It's actually been kind of fun. Last night I had to 'lick his' 'earlobe' while he 'tickled my' 'inner thigh.' It felt like we were teenagers again."

(Y/N) listened, a hollow ache forming in her chest. This was her world. The perfect, polished surface of trophy wife life, where spicing things up meant buying flavored lubricant or trying a new position from a women's magazine. It was a world away from the raw, forbidden fantasy Curly had unveiled. A world away from the dark hunger in his eyes as he'd watched those videos.

"What about you, (Y/N)?" Chloe asked, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You and Curly are always so... perfect. Like a romance novel cover. I bet your sex life is nothing but candles and rose petals."

(Y/N) forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to her own ears. "Something like that," she said, taking a large gulp of her water. "Curly's very... romantic."

"Romantic is great," Chloe said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "But sometimes you just need to get fucked, you know? Properly thrown around a bit. Does he ever, you know, take charge? Get a little rough?"

The image of Curly, face flushed with shame, hand on his cock, flashed in (Y/N)'s mind. *He has a different kind of charge in mind,* she thought, a wave of nausea rolling through her.

"I'm happy with our sex life," (Y/N) lied, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "Curly always makes sure I'm satisfied."

It was the perfect, trophy wife answer. The thing she was supposed to say. But as she looked at her friends, at their open discussions of pegging and sex dice and being "properly thrown around," she felt a chasm open up inside her. They were playing in the shallow end of the pool while Curly wanted to drag her into the dark, uncharted depths of the ocean. And the worst part? A tiny, treacherous part of her was wondering what it would feel like to dive in.

Meanwhile, across town, Curly stared at his computer screen, the spreadsheet of quarterly figures blurring into meaningless columns and rows. His phone buzzed on his desk, and his heart leaped into his throat before he even looked at the caller ID. Jimmy.

He let it ring twice longer than necessary before answering, trying to project an image of a busy man, not a desperate one. "Yeah?"

"So?" Jimmy's voice was breathless, strained. Curly could hear a faint, rhythmic rustling sound in the background. "Tell me you have good news for me."

Curly's stomach twisted. He knew that sound. "She, uh... she needs some time to think about it."

"Time?" Jimmy's voice was sharp with irritation, punctuated by a soft grunt. "How much fucking time does she need? It's a simple question."

"It's complicated, Jimmy," Curly hissed, glancing toward his office door to make sure it was closed. "She walked in on me yesterday. While I was... you know."

There was a pause, followed by a low, appreciative moan from Jimmy's end. "No shit. Watching the videos? What'd she say?"

"She was... shocked," Curly said, rubbing his temples. "But then she got weirdly calm. She asked if the fantasy really turned me on. I told her it did."

"Good," Jimmy grunted, the rustling sound growing faster. "Honesty is key. You have to make her understand it's about your desire, not just her being a charity case."

"I think she's starting to get that," Curly admitted, his mind drifting back to the strange, detached look in (Y/N)'s eyes. "She didn't freak out. She just... left. Said she needed to think."

"Think about what?" Jimmy demanded, his voice tight with effort. "Whether or not to let her husband watch her get the fucking of a lifetime? It's a no-brainer."

Curly closed his eyes, the sound of Jimmy's heavy breathing filling his ear. He could picture him perfectly: leaned back in his grubby office chair, pants around his ankles, cock in hand, thinking about (Y/N). The thought made him feel sick, but also, undeniably, a little hard.

"She's not like your porn stars, Jimmy," Curly said weakly. "She's... she's my wife."

"Exactly," Jimmy breathed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And you want to see her be a slut for you, don't you? Just for a night. Let someone else handle the work while you reap the rewards. Imagine it, Curly. Imagine watching her face when I slide inside her for the first time. That little gasp of surprise. The way her eyes will go wide."

Curly's breath hitched. The image was so vivid, so potent, it felt like a memory. He could see it perfectly: (Y/N)'s head thrown back, her lips parted, her body arching as Jimmy entered her.

"She'd be so tight," Jimmy continued, his voice ragged with arousal. "So fucking tight and wet for me. And you'd be right there, watching every second. Watching another man make your wife come in ways you never could."

"Stop," Curly whispered, but his protest was half-hearted at best. His own cock was pressing insistently against his zipper now, betraying him.

"You'd love it," Jimmy insisted, his strokes audible now. "You'd love seeing her lose control, seeing her become this purely sexual creature you've only dreamed of. And after, when she's all fucked out and trembling... she'd come back to you. Because you're the one who let it happen. You're the one who gave her this gift."

A soft groan echoed through the phone, followed by a wet, sticky sound. Curly listened, his own hand drifting to his crotch, as Jimmy came thinking about his wife.

"Fuck," Jimmy breathed, his voice sated and smug. "I needed that."

Curly didn't respond, his own arousal warring with a fresh wave of self-loathing.

"So, she needs time," Jimmy said, his tone business-like now, as if they were discussing a stock trade. "Fine. Give her a few days. Let it sink in. But don't let her off the hook. Keep planting seeds. Send her some flowers with a note saying 'Thinking of you... and us.' Remind her that this is about connection, about exploration."

"Okay," Curly agreed, his voice hollow.

"And call me tomorrow," Jimmy commanded. "I want an update."

The line went dead. Curly sat there for a long time, staring at the spreadsheet he was supposed to be analyzing, the numbers swimming meaninglessly before his eyes. He felt dirty, used, and utterly complicit. Jimmy was masturbating to the thought of his wife, and all Curly had done was enable him, all while getting turned on by the idea himself.

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over (Y/N)'s name. What would he even say? *Sorry my best friend jacked off while talking about fucking you?* He deleted the text and started again. *Thinking about you. Can't wait to see you tonight.*

It was the kind of message a good husband would send. The kind of message that might help smooth things over. But as he hit send, all he could think about was Jimmy's fantasy, and how much closer it was to becoming a reality with every passing day.

——

The smell of roasted garlic and seared steak filled the house when Curly walked in the door. It was (Y/N)'s signature apology meal, the one she only made when she felt truly guilty about something. His stomach twisted with a mixture of hunger and dread.

He found her in the dining room, setting the table with their good china, the crystal glasses catching the low light from the chandelier. She was wearing a simple black dress, her hair swept up in an elegant knot, her face carefully made up. She looked beautiful, but there was a tension in her shoulders that gave away her nerves.

"Something smells good," Curly said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.

(Y/N) jumped slightly, turning to face him with a forced smile. "I thought we could have a nice dinner. Just us."

Curly nodded, his throat tight. He knew what this was. The calm before the storm. The conversation he'd been both anticipating and dreading all day.

Dinner was excruciatingly polite. They talked about his day at work, about a new recipe she wanted to try, about the leaky faucet in the guest bathroom they kept meaning to fix. It was all surface-level bullshit, a carefully constructed facade of normalcy that was more unnerving than an outright fight would have been.

Finally, when the plates were cleared and they were both nursing a glass of red wine, (Y/N) took a deep breath and set her glass down with a decisive click.

"I've been thinking about what you said," she began, her voice steady but her hands trembling slightly in her lap. "About your... fantasy."

Curly's heart leaped into his throat. "Yeah?"

"And about what I saw," she continued, her gaze fixed on the tablecloth. "About the videos. At first, I was hurt. And angry. And honestly, a little disgusted."

Curly flinched, but he didn't interrupt. He knew he deserved whatever she was about to dish out.

"But then I went to brunch with the girls," (Y/N) said, her voice growing softer, more confessional. "And they were talking about... things. Things they do to spice up their sex lives. Things I would have never imagined them doing."

She looked up then, meeting Curly's eyes directly. "And I realized something. We've gotten... comfortable. Predictable. And maybe that's not enough anymore. Maybe it's not enough for you, and maybe... maybe it's not enough for me either."

Curly's mind raced, hope warring with caution. "What are you saying?"

(Y/N) took another deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. "I'm saying... I've been thinking about it. A lot. And I'm... I'm willing to try it."

Curly's eyes widened with disbelief. "Really?"

(Y/N) nodded, though her expression was still hesitant. "But I have conditions."

"Anything," Curly said, his voice thick with emotion. "Whatever you want."

(Y/N) hesitated again, her gaze dropping to her hands. "I don't want to know who it is," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be blindfolded the entire time. I don't want to see him, I don't want to hear his voice if I can help it. I just want to... experience it. Without the reality of who it is getting in the way."

Curly's mind immediately flashed to Jimmy, to his desperate face and pleading eyes. This was perfect. Better than perfect, actually. (Y/N) would be living out his fantasy, and she wouldn't even know it was with the man who had orchestrated the whole thing.

"Okay," Curly agreed, his voice hoarse with excitement. "We can do that. We can make it completely anonymous for you."

"And you'll be there the whole time?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes searching his. "Watching? Making sure I'm safe?"

"Every second," Curly promised, reaching across the table to take her hand. "I would never let anything happen to you."

(Y/N) nodded, a flicker of something - excitement? fear? - in her eyes. "And... and you'll still want me afterward? You won't see me differently?"

"Never," Curly insisted, squeezing her hand. "I'll love you even more for being brave enough to do this with me. For trusting me enough to explore this together."

(Y/N) managed a small, genuine smile. "Okay then," she said, her voice growing stronger with conviction. "I'm down. Let's do it."

Curly's heart pounded with a mixture of triumph and arousal. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe she'd actually agreed to fulfill his fantasy, to let him watch her with another man.

"When?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) thought for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Saturday night," she said finally. "Give me a few days to... prepare. Mentally, I mean."

"Saturday night," Curly agreed, his mind already racing with possibilities. "I'll take care of everything."

He knew exactly who he was going to call. And he knew Jimmy would be more than happy to help him fulfill his wife's conditions - especially the part about her being blindfolded. It was the perfect setup, the perfect way to give them both what they wanted without (Y/N) ever knowing the truth.

As they cleared the table together, their movements easy and familiar again, Curly felt a sense of rightness settle over him. This was going to be good for them. This was going to bring them closer, just like he'd imagined. And as for Jimmy... well, he was just a means to an end. A friend helping a friend, just like he'd said.

But as (Y/N) leaned in to kiss him goodnight, her lips soft and trusting against his, Curly felt a twinge of guilt. A small, nagging voice in the back of his mind wondered if he was making a terrible mistake, if he was opening a door he could never close again.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the excitement building in his chest. Saturday night. It was finally going to happen. And he couldn't wait.

——-

The clang of weights and the grunts of exertion filled the gym, but Curly barely noticed. His mind was a whirlwind of anticipation and anxiety, his heart hammering against his ribs with every beat. He spotted Jimmy by the squat rack, adjusting his weights with a focused intensity that seemed out of place.

"Hey," Curly said, approaching him cautiously.

Jimmy looked up, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he masked it with a casual grin. "Hey man. Ready to get crushed today?"

"Actually," Curly said, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure no one was listening, "I have an update."

Jimmy's interest was immediately piqued, though he tried to play it cool. "Yeah? What's up?"

Curly took a deep breath, the words feeling surreal as he prepared to say them out loud. "She's okay with it. (Y/N). She's... she's going to do it."

Jimmy's eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly before he quickly composed himself. "No shit," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "That's... wow. That's great, man. Really great."

"She has conditions, though," Curly continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Big ones."

"Like what?" Jimmy asked, though Curly could see the excitement building in his eyes, the way he was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"She wants to be blindfolded," Curly said, watching Jimmy's reaction closely. "The entire time. She doesn't want to know who it is, doesn't want to see him or hear him if she can help it. She just wants to... experience it. Anonymously."

Jimmy's expression was a masterpiece of feigned disappointment mixed with understanding. "Oh," he said, his voice laced with false sympathy. "Wow. That's... I don't know, man. That feels kind of cold, you know? Like she's trying to pretend you're not even there."

"She's just trying to make it easier on herself," Curly defended, though part of him agreed with Jimmy's assessment. "This is a huge step for her. She needs to feel safe."

"Of course, of course," Jimmy said, placing a hand on Curly's shoulder in a gesture of support. "I get it. It's just... I was hoping it would be more intimate, you know? More of a shared experience between the three of us. Not just... some faceless stranger fucking your wife while you watch."

Curly's brow furrowed with guilt. "I'm sorry, man. I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind."

"Don't be sorry," Jimmy said, though his eyes told a different story. "I'm just... disappointed for you, mostly. You're going to get to watch your wife live out this fantasy, but she's not even going to know you're there. She's not going to see the love in your eyes as you watch her experience this incredible pleasure."

He paused, letting that sink in before adding, "And for me... I don't know. It feels a little impersonal, you know? Like I'm just some... service provider. Not a friend helping another friend explore his sexuality."

"Saturday," Curly said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She wants to do it Saturday night."

Jimmy's eyes lit up, though he quickly masked his excitement with a look of reluctant acceptance. "Saturday," he repeated, nodding slowly. "Okay. Yeah. I can do Saturday. Just... let me know what you need from me. I'll be there."

"Thanks, man," Curly said, his voice thick with emotion. "I really appreciate this. I know it's a lot to ask."

"It's what friends are for," Jimmy said, though his mind was already racing with possibilities. A blindfold. That was even better than he could have imagined. It gave him so much more control, so much more freedom to do what he wanted without (Y/N) ever knowing.

As they moved to the bench press, Jimmy's thoughts were already a million miles away from the gym. He was thinking about Saturday night, about (Y/N) laid out on her marital bed, blindfolded and vulnerable, waiting for him.

*She wants to be anonymous?* Jimmy thought, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. *Oh, I'll give her anonymous.*

In his mind, he could see it all so clearly. He'd enter the room quietly, closing the door behind him. Curly would be there, of course, watching from a chair in the corner like the pathetic cuck he was. But Jimmy's focus would be entirely on the woman on the bed.

He'd start slow, teasing her, building her anticipation until she was writhing beneath him, begging for more. He'd touch her in ways Curly never had, explore every inch of her body with a confidence and expertise that would leave her breathless and wanting.

And then, when she was right on the edge, when she was so lost in pleasure she could barely think straight... he'd do it.

He'd rip the blindfold right off her face.

The shock in her eyes would be priceless. The dawning horror as she realized it wasn't some anonymous stranger who was about to fuck her, but her husband's best friend. The man she couldn't stand. The man she thought was a leech, a parasite.

*Surprise,* he imagined thinking, a cruel smile spreading across his face. *It's me.*

He'd fuck her then, hard and deep, watching her face as she struggled between pleasure and panic, as her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed in protest. He'd make her come, make her scream his name, make her admit that he was better than Curly, that he was the man she needed.

And the condom... oh, the condom was the best part. Curly would probably insist on it, would want to make sure everything was "safe." But Jimmy had already taken care of that. He had a condom ready, one with a tiny, almost invisible hole pricked carefully through the tip with a needle.

*You want me to wear protection?* Jimmy thought, his grin widening. *Fine. I'll wear protection.*

He'd fuck her with the sabotaged condom, pumping her full of his cum while Curly watched, none the wiser. He'd breed her right there in her own bed, on the very sheets she shared with her husband.

And the best part? She wouldn't know. Not until it was too late. Not until her period was late, not until the pregnancy test came back positive. Not until she had to look her husband in the eye and tell him that their perfect life was about to be destroyed by a baby that wasn't his.

*My baby,* Jimmy thought, his cock hardening at the thought. *She's going to have my baby.*

"Hey man, you gonna spot me or just stare into space?" Curly's voice pulled Jimmy from his thoughts.

"Sorry," Jimmy said, shaking his head to clear it. "Just thinking about Saturday."

Curly's face softened with understanding. "Yeah. Me too."

"You nervous?" Jimmy asked, though he already knew the answer.

"A little," Curly admitted. "Okay, a lot. What if she hates it? What if it ruins everything?"

"It won't," Jimmy said, his voice dripping with false confidence. "It's going to be amazing. It's going to bring you two closer than ever. You'll see."

As Curly settled under the bar, Jimmy positioned himself above him, his hands ready to spot. But his mind was already back in their bedroom, back on Saturday night.

He couldn't wait. Couldn't wait to see the look on (Y/N)'s face when he ripped off that blindfold. Couldn't wait to feel her tighten around him as he filled her with his cum. Couldn't wait to ruin her perfect life and replace it with his.

This was going to be the best night of his life. And the beginning of the end for Curly.

"All yours," Jimmy said, his voice tight with anticipation as Curly began to lift. "I've got you."

*Oh, I've got you, alright,* Jimmy thought, a predatory gleam in his eyes. *Both of you.*

——-

The bathroom was filled with steam, the air thick with the scent of expensive body wash and floral shampoo. (Y/N) stood under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over her body as she tried to quiet the frantic beating of her heart. This was it. The night she'd been simultaneously dreading and, to her own surprise, anticipating.

She'd taken an "everything shower," as she called it - exfoliating, shaving every inch of her body, deep-conditioning her hair until it fell in soft, glossy waves around her shoulders. She'd done her makeup differently, too smokier eyes than usual, a deeper shade of red on her lips, a subtle contour that gave her face an almost unfamiliar allure.

It wasn't for the stranger. Not really. It was for Curly. For the man who had shared this secret, vulnerable part of himself with her. She wanted to be beautiful for him, to show him that she was willing to meet him in this strange, new territory he'd opened up. She wanted to remind him that even as they ventured into uncharted waters, she was still his. Still the woman he'd fallen in love with.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a plush towel and padded into the bedroom. There, laid out on the bed, was the lingerie she'd bought yesterday on a secret shopping trip. It wasn't anything Curly had ever seen her in before - a black lace balconette bra that lifted her breasts into perfect, round globes, paired with a matching thong that was little more than a scrap of fabric connected by delicate straps. Black silk stockings with lace tops and a garter belt completed the look, along with a pair of towering black heels that made her legs look impossibly long.

Taking a deep breath, she dressed slowly, carefully, her hands trembling slightly as she fastened the garter clips to the stockings. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, like she was playing a role in a movie she'd never agreed to be in. But as she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, a surge of confidence shot through her. She looked... powerful. Sexy. Dangerous.

Curly's soft knock on the bedroom door made her jump. "You decent?"

(Y/N) took one last look in the mirror, practicing a sultry smile that felt completely foreign on her face. "Come in," she called out, her voice surprisingly steady.

The door opened, and Curly stepped inside, his eyes fixed on his phone as he typed out a quick message. "He's on his way. Said to tell you he's... uh... grateful."

He looked up then, and his mouth fell open. His phone slipped from his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes, wide with disbelief, traveled slowly, deliberately, from the tips of her heels all the way up to her face, then back down again.

"Wow," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "Just... wow."

(Y/N) felt a blush creep up her neck, heating her cheeks. She'd never seen him look at her like this before - with such raw, unadulterated lust. It was intoxicating.

"Since we're trying something new," she said, her voice softer than she intended. "I thought I'd... you know. Dress the part."

Curly crossed the room in three strides, his hands coming up to frame her face, his eyes still drinking her in. "You look... incredible. Like a dream."

"It's for you," she whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Not for him. This is all for you."

"I know," Curly murmured, his lips finding hers in a deep, hungry kiss. "And I love you for it."

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the delicate lace of her bra, the smooth silk of her stockings. He was like a kid in a candy store, touching and exploring as if he'd never seen her before, never felt her skin against his.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against her neck, his hands cupping her ass through the lace thong. "So fucking beautiful."

(Y/N) melted against him, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that surprised her. This was still her husband, still the man she loved, and his desire for her was a potent aphrodisiac, even with the knowledge of what was to come hanging over them.

"We should probably..." (Y/N) began, but Curly cut her off with another kiss.

"Not yet," he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "I want to enjoy this for a minute. Just us."

His thumbs brushed against her nipples, already hard and aching beneath the lace. (Y/N) arched against him, a soft moan escaping her lips as he teased her, building her desire until she was trembling with need.

"Curly," she whispered, her hands tangling in his hair. "Please."

"Please what?" he asked, though he knew exactly what she wanted.

"Touch me," she begged, her voice thick with need. "Make me forget everything else. Make me remember that I'm yours."

Curly's response was to lower his head, taking one peaked nipple into his mouth through the lace, sucking and teasing until (Y/N) was crying out with pleasure. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every dip, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and writhe against him.

He was making her forget. For a moment, she could almost pretend that this was just another Saturday night, that there wasn't another man on his way to their house, to their bed. For a moment, it was just her and Curly, lost in each other, lost in the pleasure they could so easily create together.

But then his phone buzzed on the floor, a reminder of reality, of the arrangement they'd made. Curly pulled away with a reluctant sigh, his eyes dark with desire and something else - something like regret.

"He's here," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Are you sure about this?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "I'm sure," she said, though her heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "Just... remember your promise. You'll be here the whole time?"

"Every second," Curly promised, taking her hand and leading her toward the bed. "Now lie down. Let me help you with that blindfold."

Meanwhile, across town, Jimmy was in his apartment, surrounded by a sea of foil packets. He had every brand, every size, every texture imaginable - ribbed, dotted, extra thin, glow-in-the-dark. It was a veritable buffet of condoms, and he was sampling each one with a meticulous precision that was almost surgical.

With a small, sharp pin, he carefully pierced each packet, then each condom, creating a tiny, almost invisible hole near the tip. It was a delicate operation, one that required a steady hand and a complete lack of conscience. Luckily, Jimmy had both.

"Almost done," he murmured to himself, holding up a particularly promising specimen. "Just a few more."

He worked quickly, methodically, his mind already racing ahead to the main event. He could almost feel (Y/N) wrapped around him, hot and tight and wet. He could almost hear her cries of pleasure, her whimpers of surrender.

*Finally,* he thought, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. *Finally, I get what I deserve.*

He glanced at the clock on his wall, his heart leaping with excitement. It was almost time. Almost time to claim what was his, to take what should have been his from the beginning.

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