I’m standing here in my red lace dress, the one that hugs my curves just right, and I can’t help but feel a thrill knowing what I’m about to do. The champagne bottle in my hand is cold, a stark contrast to the heat pooling between my thighs as I think about the night ahead. My husband will be home soon, and I’ve got a surprise for him. I’m not just his wife anymore; I’m his hotwife, and I’m ready to show him just how much I’ve changed. The dress is short, barely covering my ass, and the cutout in the front leaves little to the imagination. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples are hard, pressing against the lace. I can feel the cool air on my skin, and it’s making me wet. I’m not just standing here; I’m posing, teasing, inviting. I want him to see me like this, to know what I’ve become. I’m his hotwife, and I’m ready to play.
I think it's better we celebrate the divorce. Here you have the divorce papers and now pack your things and go before I throw you out!