She had started collecting her gentlemen a few years ago. Every time one of these ultra-rich wives left their husbands at home for some exotic vacation or a long spa getaway, she would find an excuse to visit, whether dropping off some unnecessary gift, or popping in to “see if the kids were home,” knowing full well they were not. She would wear something extremely revealing, which always seemed to catch the man of the house off-guard, knowing she was typically so modest. With a low cut shirt, or bare midriff, she’d start off playing coy, asking to see some art they loved or asking questions about whatever their hobby was. She paid attention, and knew all the right ways to pique their interest. She’d stare at them in wonder, doe-like, always touching their arm, and making sure her lips were parted just so. Giggling at the right times and seeming embarrassed, she would compliment them, pretending to blush and unintentionally touching her chest to draw their eye. Most of them took the bait. She would wait for that quiet awkward moment, where she would be breathing heavily, gazing into their eyes, and then she would close in for a kiss but pull away, embarrassed and apologizing. Which made them put an arm on her bare shoulder to comfort her and say it was okay, there was no harm done. And that was all she needed. She would stammer out how she’d always been attracted to them but she knew it was wrong because they were married and she needed to leave, she had just needed to know if they’d felt it too. Sometimes she would bite her lower lip and touch their face gently. If they were silent she would lock eyes with them and without a word, slowly unbutton her shirt, letting it fall to the ground revealing her bare breasts. They’d let her expose herself first, that way she was the one who’d started it. Eager to prove her commitment to this, she would slip off her own shorts, displaying her little patch of feminine pubic hair. She couldn’t have made it more clear. She was willing to take the blame for this because she was the one who reached for their belt buckles and undid their pants. With her firm breasts staring back at them and her shorts around her ankles, she would have her fingers on their zippers, looking at them questioningly, her eyes begging for approval to proceed. She stood before them naked in their private sanctums, giving herself to them fully. There would be a long pause of sexual tension, followed by passionate kissing, and then their clothes would join hers on the floor. Read more »