Sunday evening, my cousin James came over for a family dinner. After the meal, I asked if he could stick around to help me finish building the new shed out back. Once everyone else had left, it was just the three of us.
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Earlier at dinner, my girlfriend was wearing a cozy jumper, but as soon as the others left, she slipped upstairs and changed into a tight top that showcased her ample cleavage. James couldn’t keep his eyes off her; he stared openly, almost daring me to notice.
We spent some time working on the shed in the garden. Then my girlfriend mentioned she needed to run to Tesco for dog food and a few errands. Oddly, I volunteered to go instead, leaving her alone with James. I was gone for about twenty minutes.
When I returned, they were still outside together. There was nothing overtly obvious, but the energy between them felt charged, tense even.
I grabbed a few beers, and we settled in to watch the World Cup. Since James had an early flight to Tenerife, it made more sense for him to stay at our place rather than drive home. I felt I couldn’t really say no, especially after he’d helped with the shed, so I offered him the spare room.
We spent the evening drinking and watching the game. James rarely diverted his gaze from my girlfriend’s chest, and she didn’t seem to mind at all.
We went upstairs around 1:30am to turn in for the night.
I woke abruptly around 5:20am, noticing my girlfriend was absent from our bed. Assuming she’d gone downstairs for water, I tried to fall back asleep.
That’s when I began to hear unmistakable sounds coming from down the hall—wet, sloppy noises that made my heart pound. I tried to tell myself I was imagining things, a product of paranoia, but I couldn’t deny the reality settling in.
She didn’t return to bed until nearly 7am, slipping quietly back in and turning over without a word.
Moments later, James slipped out silently to catch his flight.
When my girlfriend headed down for coffee, I couldn’t resist checking the spare room. The bed was made neatly, but beneath the covers, I found dark, damp patches on the sheets—too much liquid to be a spilled drink. Knowing she’d only ever squirted once or twice before, I was stunned.
Frozen, I stood there, unsure what to think or do.
This nineteen-year-old cousin was in my home, helping build the shed, sleeping in my spare room, and completely unraveling me.
My girlfriend had been captivated by him ever since she stumbled upon those videos, but I think last night marked their first real crossing of lines.
I’m completely lost. If anyone has navigated a situation like this, please share how you managed.
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