Were these telltale signs subconscious confessions or purposeful taunts? For me to know about, but not witness? Never a word, and I didn’t ask. Full, soft lips over aroused nipples left streaks of glossy scarlet. Her fragrance lingered when we made love. As I penetrated, I entertained vivid images of delicate hands gripping her waist, a gentle tongue flicking where I thrust. Echoes of her name, even though she moaned mine...

I got up and padded over to the window, very aware of his eyes following me. That was part of the allure. It was late summer, so the oaks’ leaves had filled in, obscuring the view of his bedroom across our yards. He never fessed up to it, so I can’t say for sure, but something told me this was where he’d first glimpsed me. Of course, he’d seen naked women before me, but only on screens. Young, tight, beautiful physiques,...

I lay with Steven still inside me. From down the hall came the sounds of my son and his girlfriend—Steven’s two closest friends. Their laughter had already turned to stifled moans. “Steven,” I whispered, troubled, “Do they use protection?” “You mean, like we do. Mrs Jamason?” He pushed deeper, so the warmth of his release enveloped my womb. My voice caught. “I mean, when they fuck. Yes.” “We don’t talk about them anymore....

He had seen many naked women before me. Young, tight, beautiful bodies on screens, beyond his reach. I am flesh, his first. Where those girls shave bare, curly dark hair shrouds me, now sticky with his seed. I walk to the window, exposed, vulnerable. Silver streaks mar my hips and belly. Gifts from four children who made me who I am, a MILF. His eyes follow, devour me. I turn to let him see. Not just a picture, but realit...

I beaned him with a pitch on his first at bat in my kitchen. He stole second in the jacuzzi before I could pick him off. A wild throw on his birthday sent him to third base. A line drive up the middle let him score on his graduation night. The rest of the summer, we stopped counting; it was a home run derby.

“You know, Mrs. Jamason,” voice halting, yet urgent, “when we make love, I fantasize.” His cock was buried deep inside me, as it had been so many times this summer, but this was wickedly new. “I picture your belly swelling... with my child.” “Are you out of your mind?” I gasped even as a twisted thrill coursed through me, a primal maternal desire I hadn’t felt in years. I was married, his best friend’s mother, but in that...

“Oh God, Mrs. Jamason, I…” He stammered, flushed with embarrassment. I smirked, amused. So eager, he’d finish before he‘d even begun. “My turn, Steven.” A gentle command as I slid a finger up my slit to taste a dab of his hasty deposit. He hesitated. “You want me to…my own…?” Not disgust, but uncertain of my desire. “Of course, Steven. You satisfy me now, and then we’ll give it another go. Slowly this time.” We had all su...

“I’ll miss these afternoons with you, Steven,” I purred, recognizing that telltale quiver I’d come to savor. Steven was my son’s best friend; they’d been inseparable through high school, and I’d been screwing him all summer. What began with stolen glances when the boys gathered at our house their senior year, progressed to celebrating his eighteenth birthday in our jacuzzi. For his graduation, I claimed his virginity. Now...

“You would not believe how many times I’ve cum, imagining this moment with you, Mrs. Jamason.” “Oh, Steven,” a soft laugh caught in my throat, “I remember that look in your eye, the first time I served you and my boys lunch in my kitchen…You were freshmen, right?” “Yes…ma’am,” his breath hitched as his cock throbbed inside me. Quicker than I had hoped, I was on the edge too. But I had time, before they all left for colleg...

Bea was giddy. Although she’d indulged in hall passes before, they had been with a young man she was comfortable with. Tonight was different. Nine days into what should have been a one-week business trip, she was wound tight from days of intense negotiations. The executive across the bargaining table was genuinely distracting. She briefly considered sliding her room number into his palm as the meetings broke up. Maybe to...

I felt the familiar buzz of my phone. It was a group text from Bea, sent to me and an unknown number: “Ready or not…” with a dimly lit selfie of her beautiful snatch, glistening with excitement. My dick was instantly hard. Not ten minutes later came a message from that second, unknown, number: “I thought you might be interested in what your wifey is up to…<wink emoji>,” accompanied by a URL. A strange thrill rippled...

Business trips often kept Tom and me apart during our 25-year marriage, but we've made the best of it. I’d wake to his texts from Tokyo or Frankfurt, and before my first sip of coffee, I’d send him something to make his hotel room feel less empty—a glimpse of what he was missing beneath my silk robe. We crafted elaborate scenarios for each other: the stranger at the lobby bar who couldn’t stop staring, the massage that we...

A few years back, I was sent on an extended business trip abroad. These were common throughout our 25-year marriage, but we’ve adapted well. Bea holds down the home front and her own busy career. The timing for this one was great because she had been warned hthat er job would soon shift to high gear, meaning some long hours at the office. During these trips, we usually communicate by text message. It keeps us close while...

I'm Bea. A Hotwife now, but that was not always the case. You see, a Hotwife requires her man's blessing to take another partner. But the truth is, my path began as an illicit affair, one I initially regretted but later came to celebrate. We had not been married long when we arrived at my spouse's new military assignment in the Florida panhandle. The Gulf War was raging, and Tom was abruptly deployed to join his unit, lea...