The Selfie: The Accidental Recipient

The LED lights of the lingerie boutique were bright and glaring, but the three-way mirror in the fitting room was doing her a lot of favors. Julie stood there, her breath hitching as she looked at herself. She was forty-two, and for the first time in years, she actually felt electric. She’d just slipped into a sheer, midnight-blue lace bralette that pushed her big breasts up and out, the fabric almost sheer enough to make her nipples peak through the thin cup material.

She felt hot, sexy, desirable, all of the things that she had not felt in a long time. Her breasts looked amazing, full and voluptuous, nipples and areolas pressed against the fabric of the lingerie, offering more than a hint of the treasure below.

This was not her usual go-to choice for underwear, it was the sales assistant that gave her the encouragement to try it on, usually she opts for bland and safe bras and panties, rarely matching and very functional rather than something to cause arousal, but this was different.

She slipped off the bralette and took a moment to admire herself topless in the mirror, she had lost confidence in her body over the years, a few extra pounds and motherhood and robbed her of her confidence, she was always quick to get dressed at home, never taking time to admire her curves voluptuous curves.

This time she lingered, she admired the view, the roundness of her hips, the soft belly, the bountiful full breasts, her dark wide areolas and thick nipples, maybe it was the lighting, or just maybe she was hotter than she gave herself credit for, it had been years since she felt desirable or sexy, but she liked what she saw in the mirror of the fitting room.

She turned, viewed herself from all of the angles, her breasts were big and pendulous, maternal yet voluptuous. She looked hot and wow she felt hot, thick tiddies, thick waist, a booty and thighs with all the right curves.

She felt a sudden, desperate need to be seen. Not just seen, but wanted and admired and desired. Her husband, John, had basically treated her like a piece of the furniture for the last three years, polite, distant, and completely uninterested in the skin he’d once craved and lusted after.

Trembling slightly, Julie reached for her phone. She angled it, arching her back to accentuate the curve of her waist, an arm wrapped around her breasts protecting her modesty, and snapped a photo. She didn’t just take a cute one; she went full-on. She lowered her arm, exposing her heavy, pale breasts and those dark, aching nipples. She looked fucking incredible.

“I think I look hot, does it make you want to fuck me?”

She typed the words fast, her heart hammering against her ribs, and hit send.

The relief lasted about three seconds. Then, she looked at the top of the screen.

Her stomach dropped through the floor. She hadn’t sent it to John. She’d sent it to Josh.

Josh. Her son’s best friend. The twenty-year-old brat with the smug grin, the gym-honed body, and a level of arrogance that usually made her want to slap him. He was always lounging on her sofa, eating her food, looking at her with those heavy-lidded eyes that she’d spent months pretending didn’t make her skin prickle.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She stared at the screen, the image of her bare chest staring back at her. She felt a wave of pure, unadulterated horror. She tried to unsend it, but the app lagged, and then the little bubbles appeared. He was typing.

Her pulse was racing now, a mix of panic and a weird, forbidden jolt of adrenaline. Then the phone buzzed….