Shea Garcia stood in front of the mirror admiring her strapless evening dress. The pert mother with porcelain skin and rich, shoulder length chestnut hair puckered her lips and applied a fresh coat of ruby red lipstick.
Her makeup was flawless. Arching an eyebrow, she flashed a mischievous grin at her sexy doppelganger. It had taken a frustrating amount of time finding the perfect outfit, but it was worth it. The 39-year-old housewife looked downright irresistible wrapped in tight maroon satin that molded to her hourglass figure like a second skin. She fussed with her cleavage, struggling to keep her 34C breasts from spilling out.
It had been months since her last date, and even longer since she'd been properly fucked. That was what made tonight important. The heels of her sleek black pumps clicked on the tile as she stepped back and sprayed a mist of her sexiest perfume. A seductively sweet vanilla scent overtook the room. Her pussy moistened. She steadied herself on the counter, suddenly weak in the knees.
"Easy girl," she murmured.
A bang from downstairs snapped her back to reality. It was her son Aaron's 19th birthday, and he was throwing a party. In a moment of stupidity, she had given him permission to invite a raucous group of teens into the house. Lately, her mind had been stuck on autopilot. The cold spell made her irritable, constantly horny and bitchy. Just a couple weeks ago, she spouted off at a neighbor for blocking the driveway with their car. When she realized the vehicle actually belonged to her son's bimbo girlfriend, Amy, Shea was mortified.
Humiliated and fuming, she marched straight to her son's room. As she approached, the noise emanating from behind the door stopped her in her tracks. Her stomach lurched as she processed the unmistakable sound of squeaking bedsprings and a cadence of slapping flesh. High-pitched, feminine squeals penetrated the walls.
