My husband only lasts a minute each time. As a mature woman in my thirties, I often find myself lying awake at night, feeling like something is missing from my life. That is, until I met a rugged, muscular mechanic while getting my car repaired. Watching his strong muscles flex beneath his tank top awakened a desire I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Our brief, intense encounter left me overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t control. Just as things were about to go too far, I pushed him away, not wanting to make a mistake. But then I discovered that my husband had already been cheating on me with our pregnant neighbor. So, maybe I should just...

“Honey, the car broke down. If you have time today, could you take it to a repair shop?”

I received the text from my husband, Jeffery Miller, while I was doing chores around the house.

“Okay, honey, but I might be home a little later,” I replied.

Grabbing the car keys, I headed to the nearest auto repair shop.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I called out as I walked in.

“My car’s engine seems to have an issue. It needs to be checked and repaired.”

There was no response.

The heat was stifling, and I was growing impatient. I muttered under my breath, “What kind of repair shop doesn’t have anyone around?”

“Who says there’s no one here? I’m right in front of you.”

I was about to leave when a deep, strong voice startled me from behind.

I turned around but didn’t see anyone.

“Over here.”

I finally spotted a rugged man, covered in grease, crawling out from under a wrecked car.

I blushed instantly, not because of how dirty he was, but because he exuded a raw, masculine energy that was hard to ignore.

He was wearing only a tight white tank top, probably to stay cool while working, which made his muscular build even more pronounced.

Sweat dripped down his tanned skin, soaking into his shirt and highlighting the firm contours of his chest. The sight was undeniably captivating.

He twisted open a bottle of water and drank deeply, his Adam’s apple moving up and down with each gulp.

Further down, his gray shorts, though stained with oil, couldn’t hide his powerful legs and the impressive bulge in the front. He looked like he could easily put my husband, Jeffery, to shame in the bedroom.

Maybe it was the oppressive heat, or the fact that Jeffery hadn’t satisfied me in ages, but standing there in front of this rugged mechanic, I felt a rush of warmth spread through me.

I squeezed my legs together as a tingling sensation washed over me, blushing as I tried to regain my composure.

“Miss Garcia, the engine’s radiator has an issue. I’ll run a diagnostic first.”

“Oh, okay,” I stammered.

As he turned away and bent down to grab his tools, his firm, round ass was on full display, tempting me to reach out and touch it.

I pinched my thigh hard to snap myself out of it. Adria Garcia, remember, you’re a married woman!

Since marrying Jeffery, I had become a full-time housewife, living a life many envied as a wealthy spouse.

But what no one knew was that even a rich wife has her own private struggles—like Jeffery’s inability to perform in the bedroom.

Countless nights without him left me relying on toys or self-pleasure to satisfy my needs.

They say women in their thirties have a high libido, and at thirty, I was definitely feeling the effects.

But Jeffery only came home once a week, and even then, he lasted less than a minute.

Every time, he just rushed through it.

Not only did I feel no pleasure, but I also had to manage his feelings—pretending to be satisfied and faking moans—afraid that I might hurt his ego if I didn’t.

—

After popping open the car’s hood, the mechanic went inside to grab some tools.

With nothing to do, I noticed a white coolant tank next to the engine releasing steam, the pressure almost lifting the cap off.

Thinking it might help to cool it down, I walked over and lifted the small cap.

“Watch out!”

In that instant, a dark figure rushed over and pulled me to the ground.

A stream of boiling coolant burst out from the tank, gushing for almost a full minute before it finally subsided.

I was in shock from the sudden incident, and it wasn’t until the mechanic helped me up that I came to my senses.

To protect me, the scalding liquid had sprayed all over his arm.

Seeing his skin turning red and blistered, I choked back tears and apologized, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just saw the steam coming out of the cap…”

But he seemed completely unfazed.

“It’s just a minor burn—no big deal.”

“But I’ll need your help putting on some ointment, okay, Missy?”

He flashed me a playful grin, his tone clearly teasing.

He looked like he was in his early twenties.

Given our age difference, his flirty tone made it clear he was teasing, but not in a disrespectful way.

I followed him up to the second floor.

The room that came into view was neat and well-organized, with a faint, fresh scent of soap lingering in the air. It was clear he liked to keep things clean, which made me warm up to him even more.

But while I wasn’t paying attention, he quietly locked the door behind us.

“Missy, I hurt my arm, so I can’t shower by myself. How about giving me a hand?”

He suddenly leaned in close, backing me up against the bed, his warm breath brushing against my face.

“What... what are you doing?”

I clutched my rapidly beating heart, flustered and unsure of what to do, but there was a small part of me that was curious: Was he really asking me to help him shower? Looking at his strong, muscular build, if I were single, I might actually consider it...

Before I could even think of a response, he started laughing.

“You’re so adorable, Missy. I was just messing with you, and you took it seriously?”

“Besides, why would I trouble you with something like that?”

I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but he seemed to put extra emphasis on those last few words.

I let out a breath, unsure if I felt relieved or a little disappointed.

“My name’s Stanley Lewis, but you can just call me Stan.”

As he spoke, Stanley casually pulled off his tank top and walked shirtless into the bathroom.

It wasn’t really a full bathroom—just a small area sectioned off with a semi-transparent curtain.

From where I stood, I could just make out Stanley’s silhouette through the semi-transparent curtain, his body barely visible, adding an unexpected touch of intrigue.

“Hey, I forgot my shorts. Could you pass them to me?”

Blushing, I grabbed a pair of shorts from the bed and handed them over.

Whether it was on purpose or not, Stanley’s fingers brushed against my palm as he took the shorts, sending a jolt of electricity through me. The desire I had just managed to suppress flared up again, and my chest tightened with anticipation.

To ease arousal coursing through my body, I reached behind and discreetly unhooked my bra, hoping to pleasure myself a little before Stanley came back out.

But before I could finish, Stanley stepped out sooner than I expected!

To my shock, he was wearing nothing but the pair of semi-sheer boxer briefs I had handed him earlier.

And to make things worse, I couldn’t help but stare at the obvious bulge in the front.

“Didn’t expect you to be into this kind of style, Missy,” he teased, walking toward me with a playful grin.

“N-no, it’s not like that. I just grabbed something off the bed for you...”

I really hadn’t given it much thought when I picked them up; I definitely didn’t mean anything by it.

“Missy, aren’t you supposed to help me put on some ointment?”

Stanley casually spread his legs and sat down on the lounge chair, looking like some kind of god waiting to be worshipped.

Blushing, I picked up the ointment and walked over to him.

“It might sting a little. Try to bear with it, okay?”

I bent down and used a small spoon to scoop up some of the white ointment, gently applying it to his red, swollen arm.

“The smell is amazing, Missy.”

“Smell good?”

I leaned in to sniff the ointment, but it didn’t have any noticeable scent.

“I meant you, Missy.”

It was only then that I noticed the way Stanley was looking at me—his gaze was anything but innocent. There was an intense, almost predatory look in his eyes, like he wanted to devour me whole.

And to make things even worse, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t fastened my bra back yet.

With the way I was leaning over, his eyes were practically on fire, tracing every inch of me and setting my body ablaze with his gaze.

Flustered and red-faced, I fumbled to fasten the clasp, but the more nervous I got, the harder it became to get it right.

The next moment, Stanley stood up and gently placed his hands on my shoulders, his head buried in the nape of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“Missy, let me help you with that.”

His hand slipped under my shirt from behind, smooth and stealthy like an eel.

“Did... did you hook it?”

He didn’t answer, but his hands were definitely not still.

His cool fingertips brushed over my shoulder blades, tracing slow circles around my waist.

“Your skin is so soft, Missy.”

I bit my lip, my back muscles tensed, trying to suppress the moan that was threatening to escape.

Just as I was about to pull away from his hold, he guided my hand down to his hard bulge.

I flinched as if I’d been burned, my body jerking up, but he pressed me back down firmly.

“Are you really going to leave me like this, Missy?” His voice dropped to a low whisper, “And honestly, I think you want this just as much as I do...”

Stanley pushed my dress up to my waist, his fingers skillfully exploring beneath it.

“Don’t…”

My last bit of self-control was slipping away.

“You’re already soaked, Missy.”

He pulled his fingers back and playfully wiggled them, smiling like a fox that had just caught its prey.

A mix of shame and excitement surged through me.

But what really caught me off guard was when Stanley, still holding my gaze, slowly licked his fingers, teasingly.

“Tastes good.”

It felt like a deafening explosion went off in my head.

My vision blurred, clouded with confusion and desire.

As if reading my thoughts, Stanley chuckled softly and removed the last barrier between us.

And my body, finally, found the release it had been craving...