"Dinner's ready," she said softly, glancing at me with that mix of shyness and lingering heat.

I stood and joined her, sitting close—our thighs brushing under the small table.

I took one bite of the burrito—spicy, flavorful, perfect—and groaned. "This is so good."

She lit up at the compliment, smiling warm. "Really? I'm glad."

We ate in comfortable silence at first, the burritos spicy and perfect, the tinga rich and flavorful. She'd cooked with care, and it showed—every bite hit just right after the day I'd had.

Conversation flowed easy after a while. She talked about the store—"It's okay most days, but some customers… they think they own the place, you know?"—laughing softly when she described the regulars who always flirted too much.

I told her about college—"It's fine, keeps me busy"—keeping it light, dodging details about why I was always "busy."

She leaned in a little, eyes sparkling with that teasing curiosity. "So… how many girlfriends do you have, Alex? A guy like you must have them lining up."

I laughed. "Honestly? I lost count."

She blushed, but her eyes sparkled—part shocked, part turned on. She was a combo: caring wife feeding me like I was family, horny woman who'd just let me eat her ass minutes ago.

The food was amazing—maybe because I was starving, maybe because she'd made it with that soft, nurturing heart. We finished slow, knees touching, stealing glances.

She was the perfect sinful wife.

Dinner was good.

But dessert was looking even better.

We ate the dinner slowly, talking warmly now—the kind of easy conversation that felt like we'd known each other forever.

She asked about my favourite classes, laughed at my stories about dumb professors, told me a little about Julian's latest antics.

Her eyes lit up when she talked about her son, that soft mom glow mixing with the lingering flush on her cheeks from everything we'd done.

I helped her clear the plates when we finished, carrying them to the sink while she rinsed.

I went back to the sofa, sinking into the cushions, relaxed and full. Grabbed one of the leftover beers from the six-pack, cracked it open, and took a long sip, letting the cold fizz settle everything.

She was still at the sink, washing dishes, humming softly again. I figured I'd give her a minute—let her finish, relax before she joined me for whatever came next.

Then my phone lit up on the coffee table.

Judy again.

The message preview: "alex, i miss you already."

I opened it—and almost spit my beer.

Attached was a photo: Judy naked on her bed, legs spread wide, fingers buried deep in her pink, glistening pussy, making that lewd, desperate face—eyes half-lidded, tongue out, tits heaving.

Damn. She was really wild.

I zoomed in, cock twitching hard again despite the day I'd had. Neil's mom—prim and proper in public—was too horny for her own good. Didn't Neil's dad give her enough? Or was she just built like this—insatiable, needing more?

I smirked, taking another sip of beer, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Sofia came back from the kitchen a minute later, drying her hands on a towel before tossing it aside. She paused in the doorway, catching me watching her—blushing deep, but with that soft, inviting smile.

I grinned, patting the cushion beside me, beer in hand. "Come sit."

She obeyed without hesitation, walking over with that natural sway—big boobs bouncing tight under the crop vest, shorts hugging her thick ass and thighs. She settled right next to me, close enough that her hip pressed warm against mine.

I offered her the beer I was drinking. She took it, fingers brushing mine, and tipped it back for a long gulp—throat working, a drop spilling down her chin onto her chest. I watched it trail between her cleavage and didn't even try to hide it.

I slid my arm around her shoulders from behind, pulling her in closer. Her thick, plump body jiggled softly as she leaned into me—warm, soft, perfect. Damn, every inch of her felt like heaven to touch.

"Come here," I murmured, tugging her fully against my chest.

She did, curling into me like it was the most natural thing, head resting on my chest, sipping the beer again. I played with her damp hair, fingers tracing slow patterns, then rubbed her shoulder gentle, kissing her forehead soft.

She sighed content, body relaxing completely.

Then—her phone rang on the table, loud and sudden. We both startled.

She grabbed it quick, glancing at the screen—eyes widening. "Shh," she whispered to me, finger to her lips, shifting a little away on the sofa getting me out of the frame range.

She answered the FaceTime.

"Hey, honey," she said, voice bright and sweet, smiling like nothing was wrong. "How's Julian?"

Her husband's voice came through—warm, tired but happy. "He's asleep finally. Long day. I thought I'd call—you must be getting bored alone."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing softly. "Yeah… I miss you guys."

I watched her—face composed, that good wife smile—but her eyes flicked to me, guilty and lusty all at once.

I didn't stop.

My hand slid to her thigh—slow, casual—caressing the soft skin, fingers inching higher under the hem of her shorts.

She didn't pull away. Just shifted slightly, thighs parting a fraction.

"Come back soon, honey," she said to him, voice steady even as my fingers brushed the edge of her pussy through the shorts.

"We will, baby," he said, excited, his face filling the screen. "You taking care of yourself?"

At that exact moment, I slipped my hand higher—tugging the waistband of her shorts down just enough, out of camera frame—and slid one finger straight into her soaked pussy.

She was dripping—hot, slick walls clenching around me instantly.

Sofia didn't resist. She spread her thighs wider on the couch, subtle but deliberate, giving me full access while keeping her upper body perfectly composed—smiling at the screen like the devoted wife.

"Yeah… I'm… managing," she said, voice only faltering for a split second as I curled my finger inside her, stroking that spot that made her breath hitch.

I pumped slow—deep, deliberate strokes—feeling her grow even wetter, her pussy fluttering around my finger as she fought to keep her face normal.

Her husband kept talking—something about Julian's day, plans for tomorrow—oblivious.

She nodded along, laughing softly at the right moments, but her free hand gripped the couch cushion hard, knuckles white.

I added a second finger, thrusting faster now, thumb finding her clit and rubbing tight circles.

Her thighs trembled, spreading wider still, hips rocking just barely into my hand.

"Aah—everything okay, babe?" her husband asked, frowning a little.

She forced a brighter smile, voice breathy. "Yeah… just… stubbed my toe earlier. I'm fine."

I smirked, curling both fingers hard, hitting deep.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan, eyes glazing over as her pussy clenched tighter, soaking my hand.

She was burning up—perfect wife on camera, filthy cheating slut for me underneath.

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