When Joanna, a thirty-six-year-old mother of three, finally opened the door, she greeted her guest with a predatory squint of her brown eyes and glorious cleavage. Target acquired. Her stepson’s face was tight. She could see Kit’s chest heave in a deep breath. And his eyes were squarely on her face, no doubt trying hard not to look down at the breasts ready to burst out of the lacey neckline of her cream white silk camiso...

She was in the middle of an urgent orgasm when the doorbell buzzed her phone. Joanna groaned at the bad timing. A delivery person, she decided. She rolled over on her belly, arm underneath her, hand between her legs, fingers hard at work. Her naked body flapped against the quietly creaking bed. Papers that were on the bed fell to the floor. Anxious to get this done, her moaning and sighing mutated into panting and whimper...

“Are you having an affair?” someone asked her at the gym. Joanna looked up to see her husband Sean standing in front of her. She cursed. She was in the middle of a squat, legs bent, butt jutting in the air, holding a heavy barbell behind her neck and shoulders. Some other gym members glanced at them as they strolled by. “Sean,” she warned him. “Not here.” “Are you or aren’t you?” She inhaled as she rose and lifted the bar...