You seem stressed. All this time, you've been shouting, complaining, you seem hurt. You entered my place like a storm while my boyfriend was not there. I'm a bit lost, because even though you're talking to me, we both know I'm not responsible for your state. But I let you vent on me, you know me, you know I can take it, and you also know I'll always find a way to calm you and heal your wounds. I say nothing, and to your great surprise, I turn my back on you, heading towards the bathroom. By the sound of your voice, it seems like this attitude of ignoring you is making you even more irritated.

I take my time, letting the tension rise. In the mirror, I see my long red hair cascading over my shoulders, my green eyes sparkling with playful mischief. I choose the bright red lipstick you gave me for Christmas. You know I've planned to only use it when I'm with you. It's not just to highlight my lips.

At the sight before you, you've stopped speaking abruptly. Your arms, which were in the air just moments ago, slowly descend. A shiver runs down your spine as you see my red lips like an invitation to invade my mouth, my green eyes staring at you with an intensity that seems to pierce your soul. This silent mouth so close, so provocative, promising to make you forget all your anger and stress.

You approach me with determined steps, your fiery green eyes revealing your impatience. You firmly grasp my waist, your touch possessive yet tender, and our lips meet in a kiss where our tongues begin to dance with controlled passion. But after just a few seconds, I gently push you away. You don't take it badly; your surprise is evident in your gaze.

I bring my delicious, smiling lips close to your ear, my red hair brushing against your face, and I whisper, "It's not your tongue I want in my mouth."

A new shiver runs down your spine, and you're immobilized for a moment, likely due to the sudden rush of blood to your groin. I still enjoy the effect I have on you; it excites me. I gently push you, and you back away without resistance to the armchair behind you, where you collapse. Your tension and irritation seem to have already subsided quite a bit, but I know they're still there, beneath the surface, and I need to do something about it.

"Let me take care of you; I know what you need," I say confidently.

I kneel before you, my green eyes locked onto yours. Slowly, I start to undo your belt, my movements deliberate, each action designed to keep your gaze captive in mine, where the promise of relief and pleasure shines. In other circumstances, you would have already grabbed my hair, put me on all fours, and taken me without restraint right on the floor, and you know I would have probably loved it. But at this moment, you let me do my thing, too intrigued by where this is going, and you're right to do so because of what you will experience in a few seconds.

Your cock is now out, completely hard, I caress it with my hand while continuing to look into your eyes. But it's time to get serious; I don't want to frustrate you, and honestly, I'm starting to have trouble holding back too. My red lips touch along your cock to give a first light and wet, almost loving kiss, which makes you let out a small sigh. An identical second kiss follows, a bit higher, then, unable to wait any longer, I place my half-closed lips on the tip of your cock. I start to force my descent, taking care to keep my lips tight to give you a sense of tightness.

"Fuuuuck, Emma."

Here we are at last, the moment when you finally let me help you release your anger and stress. And what better way to do that than with the warm, wet interior of my mouth? You now watch your cock slowly disappear with exquisite slowness into the mouth of this twenty-five-year-old redhead, her fiery hair cascading over my shoulders. Only two-thirds of your member fit into my mouth before I decide to come back up. Then begins a gentle, languorous back-and-forth dance along your cock. I feel my own arousal rising more and more, especially when I sense your breath suddenly hitch every time I take you a bit deeper into my mouth. My God, how I love your taste. Honestly, I couldn't tell you which of us is enjoying this more.

I don't know about you, but I've lost all sense of time. It's not impossible that my boyfriend could come home from work any minute now, but right now, I don't care. I want to keep feeling this hot, hard, pulsating member in my mouth; I want to keep hearing your grunts and your encouragements, "Go deeper, slut."

"Slut," that word alone seems to drive me completely wild. I know it might sound like an insult, but in this context, it only excites me more and makes me want to push my limits, to try and take you even deeper. I can't help but let out a muffled moan each time I dive back into your crotch. I feel your cock throbbing more and more in my mouth; release seems imminent. You know I won't stop because even though I love the taste of your cock, you know I love the taste of your cum even more. Knowing that I'll greet my boyfriend with the aftertaste of your cum still in my mouth makes me feel so slutty, so perverse, so dirty; the pleasure I get from it is exquisite, and it wouldn't take much to make me come.

One of my hands has now reached my sex, and the pleasure has intensified even further; I feel that my release is close, it won't take much to push me over the edge.

Your breath catches one last time before you let out a guttural, liberating groan as I finally feel your pleasure flood my mouth. At the sensation of your cum hitting the back of my throat, something clicks inside me.

A gigantic wave of pleasure starts to spread throughout my entire body, accompanied by a series of delicious spasms inside my pelvis and a sense of release mixed with intense emotions, a blend of joy and guilt. This "distraction" makes me lose the focus I had, and semen begins to trickle from the corner of my lips. I regain my composure immediately, not wanting to waste a drop.

Given the amount, it seems you really needed it. I resume my gentle back-and-forth motions, wanting to prolong your orgasm as I feel serotonin flooding every fiber of my body. Your hand is now on my head, your fingers buried in my hair to set the pace you want. We continue like this until I feel your cock softening gradually. I then lift my head so you can admire me with my makeup ruined. If I hadn't made sure to completely drain you, you would have gladly fucked me, but I've exhausted you. The stress and anger are now a distant memory. You think to yourself that this lipstick really suits me.

Not wanting to cause me any trouble, you simply say, "Thank you, beautiful," while planting a kiss on my forehead, then stand up to get dressed, not wanting to run into my boyfriend and giving me some time to clean up my mess.

"Life would be so much simpler if I could have you like this every day," you say as you put on your coat.

I respond with a melancholic smile, "Yes, but life is never simple."

After nodding at what seems like an obvious truth, you leave, knowing you'll be back very soon.

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