Leslie’s stifled past—one rigid husband, six arid years—exploded the moment her claws sunk into freedom. Now a dripping, ravenous volcano, her husband’s teasing question mid-thrust ("Craving more cocks, baby?") detonated her shame into pure, slick need. No vague "somedays" for him: his cunning …

John’s Valentine’s surprise wasn’t dessert—it was Paul’s sinful email, complete with a phone number and a smirk. "Your fantasy," my husband purred, watching me squirm at the thought of another man’s hands on me. One week later, I’m perched at a hotel bar in a skirt so short it barely contains my lace-thonged …