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Olga finally stumbled through the front door, kicking off the workday like a bad dream. Exhaustion hit her all at once; she didn''t even make it to the bedroom. She collapsed face-down onto the couch, the short black dress riding up instantly over the curve of her ass. The hem bunched high enough that the black lace edge of her panties peeked out simple, sheer, the kind that left very little to the imagination even when she wasn''t sprawled like this. She felt his eyes on her before she even looked. Her boyfriend was already there, lounging in the armchair across from her, pretending to scroll on his phone. Pretending badly. His gaze kept flicking back to the shadowed space between her thighs where the dress had betrayed her completely. Olga smirked into the cushion, then slowly, deliberately reached back with one hand and tugged the dress higher. Up over the swell of her hips, past the waistband of her black-and-white polka-dot panties, until the entire set was on shameless display: the high-cut thong that framed her ass perfectly, the delicate straps digging into her skin, the tiny bow at the front that looked almost innocent until you noticed how wet the fabric already was between her legs. She rolled onto her back, knees bent, feet still in those strappy black heels she''d worn all day. The stilettos caught the lamplight as she kicked them lazily in the air slow, teasing circles, toes pointed, calves flexing. The motion made her thighs part just enough to show the damp spot darkening the crotch of her panties. %u201CDo I look good to you?%u201D she asked, voice low and rough from fatigue and something hotter. He didn''t answer with words. His phone hit the coffee table with a clatter. Olga laughed softly, sat up just enough to peel the dress off over her head in one fluid motion. It landed somewhere behind the couch. Now she was down to only the lingerie and heels small, firm breasts barely contained by the matching bra, nipples already peaked and pressing against the thin cups. She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back so everything lifted and tightened. And then she spread her legs wider, hooking one heel over the armrest, letting him see it all. The dark brown hair on her head was a dye job, and they both knew it. But the fiery red bush between her thighs had never been hidden from him. A neat triangle of bright copper curls spilled out from the sides of the thong, untamed and vivid against her pale skin. He''d always been obsessed with it said it was the real her, the one she should stop covering up on top too. Said the contrast drove him insane. Right now, it was driving him insane. He crossed the room in three strides, dropped to his knees between her spread legs. His hands slid up her calves, thumbs brushing the leather straps of her heels, then higher, gripping her thighs and opening her even more. The polka-dot thong was soaked through; he could see the outline of her swollen lips beneath it, the way her clit pushed insistently against the fabric. He leaned in, nose brushing the damp cotton first, inhaling her like she was oxygen after drowning. Then his mouth was on her through the thong at first, tongue pressing the lace flat against her clit, tasting salt and heat and the faint trace of her day. Olga moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, hips lifting off the couch to grind against his face. %u201CFuck%u2026 yes,%u201D she breathed, heels digging into his shoulders for leverage. %u201CJust like that.%u201D He hooked the thong aside with two fingers, exposing the blazing red curls and the slick, flushed pussy beneath. No hesitation he buried his face there, tongue flat and broad, lapping from entrance to clit in long, greedy strokes. She tasted like sin and homecoming. Her thighs trembled around his ears; the heels clacked together behind his back as her legs locked tight. Olga''s head fell back against the cushions. One hand slid down to join him fingers spreading her lips wider so he could suck her clit directly, flicking the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud until she started to shake. %u201CDon''t stop,%u201D she gasped. %u201CMake me come%u2026 make me soak your face before I even shower.%u201D He growled against her, the vibration sending her over the edge fast. Her whole body arched, heels scraping his back, red curls glistening as she came hard pussy clenching, wetness flooding his mouth, a low, broken cry tearing from her throat. When the aftershocks finally eased, she didn''t move. Just lay there panting, legs still wide, heels dangling, red bush on full display, thong shoved to the side like an afterthought. She looked down at him, lips swollen, eyes glassy. %u201CYour turn to get naked,%u201D she said, voice wrecked but smiling. %u201CAnd then%u2026 maybe I''ll let you fuck me right here. Still in the heels. Still messy from work.%u201D He was already tearing at his belt. She wasn''t tired anymore.