Shared Canadian Housewife: Alone with Repairman Unlocks Hotwife Desires

By Suzy Bright

"Shared Canadian Housewife," follows Tracey, a married woman in her mid-thirties, as she embarks on a journey of sexual discovery and exploration. The narrative begins with Tracey indulging in a solo pleasure session in the shower, only to be interrupted by the doorbell. The visitor is John, her handsome neighbor, who has been sent by Tracey's husband, Marcus, to fix the dryer. What starts as a mundane task quickly escalates into a passionate encounter, as Tracey and John succumb to their mutual attraction.

The story takes a thrilling turn when Marcus returns home unexpectedly, catching Tracey and John in the act. Instead of being angry, Marcus reveals that he orchestrated the encounter, adding a layer of voyeuristic excitement to their marriage. This revelation sets the stage for further explorations, including a steamy threesome and a voyeuristic adventure involving Denise, a young woman connected to John.

Throughout the story, Tracey navigates her evolving desires and the complex dynamics of her marriage. The narrative is rich with descriptive and explicit scenes that highlight the sensual and emotional depths of her experiences. Readers will be drawn into Tracey's world of discovery, where boundaries are pushed, and new pleasures are explored with unapologetic passion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzy Bright
• Release date: Jun 9, 2025

Suzy Bright

Suzy Bright is a provocateur with a pen, crafting stories that peel back the velvet curtain on desire, power, and the messy magic of human connection. With a wink and a whip-smart voice, she explores the intersections of lust and liberation, giving readers permission to indulge their darkest curiosities—no judgment, just juice.

Book preview

Shared Canadian Housewife

Alone with Repairman Unlocks Hotwife Desires

Suzy Bright

Copyright © 2025 by Suzy Bright

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters depicted in this book are 18 years or older. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

Chapter one

The morning light filters through gauzy curtains, casting warm patterns across Tracey's bedroom. She stretches beneath silky sheets, her body unfurling like a secret finally being told. The absence of an alarm's harsh demand feels decadent, forbidden almost—a day off from her accounting job that she intends to savor in every possible way.

Tracey rolls onto her back, allowing the sheets to slide away from her curves. At thirty-five, her body tells stories of pleasure embraced and denied—full breasts that spill slightly to the sides when she lies flat, hips that curve generously from a waist that remains surprisingly trim. She runs her hands along her sides, appreciating the contrast of soft flesh over firm muscle. There's a languid power in being alone with her body, a luxury rarely afforded between spreadsheets and client meetings.

The house holds a perfect stillness around her. Marcus left early for work, his side of the bed already cool to the touch. She can still detect the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric, but the space is entirely hers now. The vanilla and lavender fragrance from her collection of candles permeates the air, creating an atmosphere of sensual possibility.

She pads barefoot across the plush carpet to the en-suite bathroom, each step deliberate and unhurried. The cool tiles against her feet send a pleasant shiver up her calves. She catches her reflection in the mirror—tousled brown hair framing a face still soft with sleep, nipples visibly pebbling in the morning chill. Her gaze traces the path a lover's eyes might follow, lingering on the gentle swell of her belly, the dark triangle between her thighs.

Tracey turns the shower knob, and the bathroom fills with steam. She steps under the cascade of water, gasping slightly as the heat makes contact with her skin. The pressure is perfect—strong enough to massage but gentle enough to caress. Water sluices between her breasts, creating rivulets that trace the contours of her body before disappearing between her thighs. She closes her eyes, tilting her face into the spray, feeling her pores open, her muscles unwind.

Her hands reach for the soap, working it into a rich lather between her palms. She applies it to her neck first, then lower, circling her collarbone before cupping her breasts. The slick sensation awakens something primal within her. Her touch transforms from practical to purposeful, fingers lingering over each nipple. They respond immediately, hardening against her palms. A familiar warmth blooms deep in her core.

Mmm, she murmurs to the empty bathroom, the sound barely audible over the drumming water.

Her hands make smaller, tighter circles now, thumbs flicking across the sensitive peaks. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure straight to her groin. Her breasts feel heavier, fuller in her hands as blood rushes to the sensitive tissue. She pinches lightly, then with increasing pressure, testing the threshold between pleasure and pain. The resulting sensation makes her knees weaken slightly.

Water continues its relentless descent, a constant stimulation that complements her own ministrations. Tracey leans back against the cool tile wall, spreading her legs slightly. One hand remains at her breast, tweaking and rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. The other hand slides down her torso, fingertips dancing across the flat plane of her stomach. She traces the slight curve below her navel, teasing herself with proximity.

Her breathing changes, becoming shallower, more deliberate. The shower's steam envelops her in a private cloud, a world where only sensation matters. Her fingers finally reach their destination, slipping through the smooth, shaved skin of her mound to find the slick heat beneath. The water has already made her wet, but her fingers discover an additional slickness that has nothing to do with the shower.

God, she whispers, finding her clit already swollen with need.