The clinking of glasses and distant laughter fill the air, but all I can focus on is the sight of her. She’s a vision in that sheer fishnet top, her tits barely contained, nipples hard and visible through the mesh. Her smile is wide, almost mocking, as she lightly touches the green pendant hanging from her neckline. It’s a fucking tease, a reminder of the rules she lives by. Hotwife Rule #7, she calls it. Tops must be sheer, see-through, fishnet, or mesh. She’s following the rules, all right, and I’m the cuckold watching her every move.
Confession: My Humiliation in Neon Lights
The neon lights cast an eerie glow on her face, highlighting her every feature. She’s the center of attention, and I’m just a shadow in the background. Two guys flank her, one on each side, their eyes roaming over her body. I can see the hunger in their eyes, the same hunger I’ve seen a thousand times before. She’s a fucking slut, and she knows it. The guy on the right, in his white polo, leans in close, whispering something in her ear. She laughs, a sound that cuts through the night like a knife. I’m invisible, a non-entity, as she plays her game. The guy in the background, holding a drink, watches with a smirk. He knows, they all know, that she’s a hotwife, a slut for anyone but me. And I’m just the cuckold, watching her fishnet fantasy unfold in the neon-lit night.




