This is a Valentine's Day contest story. Please vote.
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Brother-in-law has a special Valentine surprise for his three sexy sisters-in-law.
Valentine's Day is supposed to be the day of love and romance. Only for me, after I seduced my three sexy sisters-in-law, is was a day filled with sex. Payback is a bitch and I paid back my brothers in spades for the way they not only poorly treated me all my life but also how badly they treated their wives over the years.
My three brothers, Paul, Peter, and John are assholes. My Mom is very religious and just because they were named after three of the apostles, who were religious messengers and ambassadors of God, they think they are holier than thou. I'm the baby of my family, my mother had me when she was 42-years-old and my brothers, Paul, Peter, and John were 12, 14, and 16. Don't laugh, an unplanned surprise, a gift from God, because she thought I was a miracle baby, she named me Jesus. I know, I hated my name when I was a kid but have grown to love it now. If it wasn't for my three, big brothers protecting me, nailed to a cross by the neighborhood kids, I never would have made it out of high school.
"There's Jesus! Let's beat the bejesus out of him."
We moved to Vegas years ago, when it was the old Vegas, before the real estate boom, before the big, billion dollar hotels were built, and before I was born. Since there's no personal income tax in Nevada, my Dad saw an opportunity to buy a house for cheap money and to start a business. Much like the wild west, much like the California gold rush, and much like the Alaskan land grab, the state was wide open, back then. No one wanted to live in what was mostly a desert. Except for the strip, which wasn't even rehabbed with the billion dollar casinos, yet, it was still mostly undeveloped sand.
No offense to God, the Lord Almighty, and to all those people of faith, but this is a true story. Besides, if you're such a holy roller, instead of a Vegas high roller, and take offense at my story, what are you doing here on a porn site? Never mind. We all know that many of the loudest Bible thumpers are hypocritical closet perverts who think that it's okay to have extramarital affairs, so long as they are the ones having them and so long as God forgives them, while the rest of us are chastised for so much as having an impure thought.
Anyway, my Dad, Godfrey, his first name, bought a rundown bar. With some paint and repairs, he turned it into a combination strip club, casino, and restaurant. This is Vegas, don't forget. No doubt, because of how religious my Mom, Mary, was in naming her sons after three of the Lord's disciples and naming me Jesus, don't laugh but everyone called my Dad, God. You wouldn't believe me if I told you, but my Mom gave all of our dogs, over the years, the same name of Joseph. Knowing how religiously twisted my Mom is, it wouldn't surprise me if my Mom purposely went looking for a man named Godfrey, just so that when she was having an orgasm, she could call him God.
"Oh, God, God! Oh, God, God! Oh, God, God!"
I always wondered if she called him, Oh, God, God, instead of just Oh, God. Anyway, since everyone called my Dad God and because, no doubt, my Dad poked fun of the fact that there were so many wedding chapels in Vegas, he called his combination bar, casino, and restaurant The House of God.
The House of God is off the strip and in the seedy part of town, but since it's been there forever, so long as there's no trouble, it's given special status and extended courtesy privileges by the Las Vegas police. Not as regulated in the way that the big, mega corporate casinos are by the Las Vegas Gaming Commission, especially back then, my Dad supported the police with kickbacks and payoffs. As did many of the casinos and businesses in Vegas, he helped their families, whenever one of the cops were hurt or killed in the line of duty.
Without looking like a bribe or a payoff, fortuitously winning sudden family vacations or a new car, college scholarships for their children was a good way for casino owners to reward the police for special favors without actually having to give them cash. The police knew that had they stopped turning a blind eye to the illegal activity at my Dad's House of God, their sudden good luck in winning trips, cars, and college scholarships would suddenly and coincidentally stop, too. Except for the dirty business he was in, married to my mother, Saint Mary, basically he was a good man and a God fearing man. For sure, he was a better man than any of my three brothers, Paul, Peter, and John.
The cops all know there's prostitution going on at the House of God, but they close their eyes to it, so long as there are no other problems, such as drugs, underage drinking, and violence. Prostitution wasn't the problem in Vegas then, that it is now with so many freelancers, and as it is in so many other communities, where it isn't legal. After the legalization of it in Nevada, so long as the state gets their cut, no one complains about selling sex for money.
Never having been inside, to this day, my Mom thinks that the House of God is a private gentleman's club. If only she knew it was a strip joint and worse, if only she knew what really goes on in there, she'd disown my Dad and all of her sons, but for me. Hmm, maybe I should tell her.
So, why are my brothers assholes? Well, for one, they think I'm gay. Constantly teasing me, ragging on me, and gay bashing me, embarrassing me, and humiliating me, they make my life miserable, a holy Hell. Maybe because I'm so much younger than they are, we don't have the close relationship that my three brothers enjoy with one another. Why do they think I'm gay? Because I won't have anything to do with their strip club. Like my Mom, I've never even stepped foot inside the place. Seriously, wouldn't it be wrong for someone with the name Jesus to frequent such a place?
In reality, I have no desire to see women humiliate and pander themselves by stripping off their clothes in front of horny men for money. Many of these women are single mothers and for men to use and abuse them, gawk at them, and grope them is just wrong. I have more respect for women than that. Yet, it's okay that my three brothers think I'm gay and I play up that angle, whenever we're together, mostly so they won't ask me to be a part of their dirty business. There's also another reason why I don't tell them that I'm not gay. For the sake of ogling my sexy sisters-in-law, I use their ignorance to my horny advantage.
The last reason why the three of them are assholes is because of the way they treat their wives. Always at the club, they are never home. I know they cheat on them with some of the skanky ass women they have working for them. Yet, not making any sense to me, I don't understand why they'd cheat on their wives. Why have leftover hamburger in the form of skanky strippers, when they have filet mignon in the form of beautiful wives at home is beyond me?
My brothers, all average looking guys, are married to absolutely gorgeous women, my three sisters-in-law, Angelina, Gabriella, and Grace. Understandably, maybe because my Mom is so religious, I wonder if my brothers purposely went out of their way to find women with religious names just to throw my Mom off the track of their House of God shenanigans. It's so divinely weird how that all worked out for them, finding three women that my Mom adores, no doubt, because their names are Angelina, Gabriella, and Grace.
Sometimes, when we're all together, because of the religious symbolism that all of our first names have, I feel, as if we're a religious cult. Only, when it comes to religion and in the sense that their business has nothing to do with a house of worship, but in name, along with their first names, all their names are oxymoronic, that is, except for my name, as I'm the good one in the family. Yet, with me now planning to seduce their wives, my three sexy sisters-in-law, that's all going to change. In that regard, crossing the sexual incest/taboo line, I'm going to be as big of a bastard, even much more so, than my three brothers could ever be.
Anyway, one sister-in-law is better looking than the other and when the three of them are together, surrounded by three angels, Lord Almighty, I died and went to Heaven. For sure, being that I'm tall and well built with my blonde, curly hair, big, blue eyes, and round cherub face, my Mom must have had sex with the milkman or the mailman because I look nothing like my Dad and don't look anything like my brothers. My brothers are all short, like my Dad, and have brown hair and brown eyes, again, like my Dad.
