Do I think I'm a Good Wife? - Sex Stories

Do I think I'm a Good Wife?

... I need more. I mean I'm not changing my current activities. I need my spa treatment.

But I can't tell Tom I need money for gas and motels so I can fuck college kids.

Wait, Pickleball. I'll tell Tom that I found a college kid who gives Pickleball lessons. I tried to explain Pickleball to Tom once, but he didn't get the whole concept of the kitchen and when you're allowed in the kitchen and when you're not.

Tom, that male chauvinist told me the only person that belongs in the kitchen is a woman. Barefoot and pregnant so she can't cheat on her husband when he's hard at work supporting the family.

I'm a bad wife!

It was time to set my plan into action. Tom was away in Thailand, Iceland, Greenland, one of those lands. As long as it wasn't Long Island, I was safe.

The hardest part of my plan was to find a college bar that was far enough away from the town where I live, and I had to make sure I didn't end up fucking someone my daughters know. 'How! How! Do I wear a disguise?

That would work. No one would notice me while I looked for my suitor.

I was nervous. I was nervous as a virgin on her wedding night.

Pulling up to the bar turned a few heads too. They weren't expecting a Hot MILF to step out of a 2023 Yellow Corvette Z06 Coupe 3LZ worth $200,000.

When I said my husband is "doing well" I meant rich as fuck!

That's another reason I can't get caught. If Tom threw me out, I couldn't even afford a cardboard box. I was in love with Tom from day one. I ...

... signed some documents before we got married. I became a Trophy Wife and if I ever fucked up, I'd be poor.

I didn't think about my yellow baby, any one of my daughter's friends would know that car. Too late to turn back now. I'm a blond, so I put on a brunette wig. I also put on contacts that made the color of my eyes brown and I made my eyebrows darker. It was washable. See, I'm a thinker.

Okay, I took a deep breath and walked into the bar.

"License," the bouncer asked.

I looked at him, "Really?"

I wasn't showing my license to anyone. I gave him a five and walked in.

"You need a stamp to get a drink." I just kept on walking.

That guy better marry rich, because he's not that smart if he thinks I need a stamp on my hand so the bartender will know that I am old enough to drink.

I made my way up to the bar and received a lot of looks from the girls. I'm not sure, but while some were questioning why a MILF was in their bar, others gave me a look like they wanted a piece of this MILF.

I have never been into girls in that way before, but I wasn't ruling it out just yet. Sex is sex and I needed it.

I waited at the bar for someone to offer to buy me a drink, but these cheap ass boys offered nothing. 'Times have changed I guess.'

"Hey, can I buy you a drink," I was so embarrassed; I was going to buy a drink for a guy.

"You can buy him a drink if you buy me one too," I guess that was his girlfriend. I bought them each a drink and walked away.

The ...