The way she treats you never sat right with me. She's a gold-digger, through and through, spending your money on things she doesn't need. Jewelry, clothes, extravagant trips and experiences. You want kids, and she doesn't. You think she spends too much time away. She thinks your sexual proclivities are "degrading." I know all this, because when she's home, I can hear you arguing, even from my bedroom.

Not that it's all that far; we've been neighbors since I moved into this place with my roommates three years ago. Our house is much smaller than yours, and since I share it with three other people, I have even less space than I would have anyway. I've also had a massive crush on you since we moved in, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same way. You've given me blanket permission to use your pool whenever I want, and I can always feel your eyes on me when I'm swimming in the shade of your trees, or lounging poolside, reading a book. Plus, it can't be coincidence that you always ask me to housesit, and not my roommates.

But now my lease is ending, and I can feel my final chances to act on my crush dwindling away. Until now, I've held back because of your wife. She doesn't deserve you, true, but you've stayed with her anyway, and I wasn't about to become a home wrecker. And then, only a week before my move-out date, I heard about the affair. Or, rather, affairs. A lot of her "extravagant trips" were to the bed and breakfast across town, to meet up with a small series of gentlemen you'd never met.

You filed for divorce right away, and she's already moved out of your house; recognizing that now's my chance, I commit. I make myself up, wearing that mint-green sundress that you can never take your eyes off of, plus a pair of white thigh-highs and some black pumps. I've got a subtle layer of makeup on, and I look myself over in the mirror one final time. At 5'2", and barely 100 lbs soaking wet, I'm thin and small. Big, bright, ice-blue eyes, and honeyed, golden-blonde hair, plus a cute button nose and full lips with a natural pout. My dress hugs my thin body tightly, but not scandalously; you can see the soft curve of my b-cup breasts, but more importantly, the flared hem fails to hide my shockingly wide hips or the round, bubbly backside that I've spent many hours in the gym to get.

I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves, and march over to your house, knocking gently on the door. And then I wait.

Howdy! My name's Sophie. Here's my kinklist. In your first message, please describe your character, tell me about your kinks and limits, and then jump right in! I don't have any hard requirements, other than that your character should be at least 30 years old. That said, I have a preference for dadbods and dorks more than chiseled models or whatever. Thanks for reading!