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Men notice. They always do.

It’s not just the view, but the invitation of imagination: satin or lace beneath that denim, something playful or wickedly simple. Or maybe commando. Thoughts wander, how the jeans would feel under curious fingers wanting to unbuckle the button, how she might arch or laugh if someone dared to test the softness under the jeans. Would she want his hands to stay in her jeans, exploring till the fingers are super soaked. It’s a slow burn fantasy, fueled by the way she looks utterly at ease, unaware or pretending not to be.

The sofa becomes a stage, the moment stretched thin, and desire fills in the rest.

Read naughtier stories on Substack. Handle @cheatingwifejenn