Blondie's New Dress

A blonde bombshell breezes into a boutique, sun-kissed skin and a sharp eye for trouble. She yanks a dress off the rack, wriggles into it, and the fabric clings like it owes her money. One long look in the mirror and she’s sold—sale rung up, heels clicking home with a grin that says mischief is on the menu. Door swings open, boyfriend’s jaw drops, pupils doing the conga. He pulls her in, hands already busy, the new dress doing its best job until the zipper betrays it. Fabric hits the floor like it’s clocking out early. He pins her against the couch, kissing down her neck while she arches into him, nipples tightening under his tongue. She palms his cock through denim, squeezes, feels it twitch, then shoves his jeans down. He’s thick, already slick at the tip. She drops to her knees, takes him deep, gagging just enough to make his knees buckle. He hauls her up, bends her over the armrest, hikes one thigh high. The first thrust knocks a moan out of her; the second makes her slick walls clamp. He drives in hard, skin slapping, one hand fisted in her hair, the other circling her clit until she’s swearing and shaking. She flips them, rides him reverse, ass bouncing, tits swaying, sweat slick between her shoulder blades. He slaps her cheek, grips her hips, pistons up until they both come—her pulsing around him, him spilling deep while her dress lies crumpled and forgotten like last week’s receipt.