I am the mother of three teenage daughters and wife of 21 years. My husband pays no attention to what I do or say, much less as to what I am wearing. I am 40 years of age, 150 pounds, long dark curly hair, big dark almond shaped eyes, athletic build, and my proud part of my body a pair of firm 38DD breasts.

It was Saturday after Thanksgiving, the kids were bored and wanted to see the latest teen movie. I was exhausted having done six loads of laundry, sweeping, mopping and other dirty jobs you can’t bribe a teenager to do. My husband decided to take the girls out to the movie and pizza to give me a much needed break from the whines of teenage girls. I waved bye to them as they drove down the street.

Alone at last I locked the front door closed my eyes and a satisfied smile crossed my lips as I sighed and enjoyed the quiet of the house. I walked to the kitchen and poured a nice glass of Chianti wine in a large wine glass, took my first sip savoring the wonderful taste on my lips. I took my glass walking down the hallway to my bedroom and closed and locked the door.

Feeling a little warm from the wine, I set my glass on the nightstand. Stood up and looked in the mirror door of my closet just looking at myself. Thinking of my lover that I had not seen in close to three weeks do to our busy schedules and the Thanksgivng holiday. I missed him so much and had not realized it until I was alone in a big quiet house. Looking back at me was a forty year old woman dressed in a red tank top that stretched on her enormous firm yet soft breasts and a old pair of faded blue jeans. I looked okay for a mom of three very active teenagers.

As I looked in the mirror, my right hand lifted up to my breasts slowly and gently sliding over the top on my right breast, circling around the areole. I felt my nipple harden through my lacey bra, then bring my forefinger and thumb together I pinched my nipple making it harder.