Cleaning Up, Dirty Thoughts

Lunahousewife, in her pristine apron, sweeps the floor, her mind a whirlwind of taboo desires. She pictures her husband's hands, calloused from work, on her soft skin, his breath hot on her neck. She leans against the broom, her thighs clenching, the friction igniting a spark. The house is spotless, but her thoughts are anything but clean. She glances at the clock, her heart pounding. She knows she shouldn't, but the temptation is too great. She unties her apron, her fingers trembling slightly, ready to give in to the forbidden.

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