Rose — The Goddess Housewife Home Alone
When Rose’s husband left for work, the house became her temple. The soft hum of silence wrapped around her as she glided through the hallways in a silk robe, her golden hair cascading like firelight against her shoulders. Alone, yet never lonely, she savored the delicious power of her solitude.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine, her robe slipping to reveal the glint of lace beneath. A wicked smile curved across her lips. “What would he say if he knew what his perfect wife did when no one was watching?” she whispered to the empty room, her voice low and commanding, as if the walls themselves were her audience.
Her bare feet padded across polished floors as she moved to the living room, sinking into a velvet chair like a queen upon her throne. She crossed her legs slowly, teasing the fabric of her robe apart, unveiling the curves she knew were worshiped but rarely granted. The house was hers, the fantasy hers, and the hunger undeniable. She ruled her space like a Goddess waiting for adoration, her every gesture a promise of pleasure withheld… or unleashed.
By the time the clock struck midnight, Rose’s eyes gleamed with mischief. She wasn’t just a housewife left home alone—she was a Mistress weaving fantasies in silk and shadow. And when the door finally opened, someone would pay the sweet price of her imagination.