The summer heat was thick and syrupy, the kind that clung to skin. Irina, just turned 18 and still proudly untouched, had arrived at her aunt's country house, her stare locked on Andrey from the moment she stepped out of the car. Her aunt was away on business for a month—the perfect window for what she had in mind.

That evening, as Andrey fixed a drink in the kitchen, Irina appeared in nothing but a flimsy white sundress, her nipples perky and promising against the thin fabric. Her bare thighs glistened with a sheen of lotion. “Uncle Andrey,” she whispered, stepping close, pressing her high, ripe breasts against his arm. He stiffened, his adams apple bobbing.

“I've been thinking,” she purred, her hand sliding down his chest, then over the bulge growing against his jeans. She felt his shaft twitch through the rough denim. “All summer long, I've wanted you to pop my cherry.”

Andrey's breath hitched. He tried to protest, but her hand unzipped his fly, freeing his fat, throbbing cock. She sank to her knees, her innocent, long lashes fluttering as she took his heated man-meat in her mouth, sucking him deep, tasting his salty pre-cum like a forbidden appetizer. He groaned, grabbing a fistful of her hair as she bobbed her bonnet, her tongue rolling over his meaty tip.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” she murmured, stroking his tight, sweaty balls, her other hand sliding up her own thigh,