Then one morning, Tae’s parents showed up on his porch, all smiles and apologies while their daughter lingered behind them like a ripe peach waiting to be plucked. "Our housekeeper quit," Mina sighed, wringing her hands. "And we heard yours left too—poor thing, getting by all alone."

Tae bit her lip—those plush, pink lips—peering up at him through her lashes. Her dress was barely more than a handkerchief today, the fabric straining over her bouncing tits every time she shifted. Sehun clapped Jungkook on the shoulder. "Tae can help out in the afternoons. Cleaning, cooking—whatever you need."

Jungkook almost choked. The little minx had arranged this. He could see it in the way her fingers played with the hem of her skirt, hiking it up just enough to flash him the barest glimpse of bare thigh. "That’s... very kind," he managed, gripping his cane like a lifeline.

Tae giggled, swaying forward. "I’ll start today, grandpa. Don’t worry—I’ll take real good care of you." The way she said it—slow, dripping with promise—made his balls ache.

That afternoon, she arrived with a tray of lemonade—and nothing else. No cleaning supplies, no apron. Just Tae in a crop top so sheer he could see the pink of her nipples pebbling beneath, paired with shorts that barely covered her ass cheeks. "Grandpa," she sang, kicking the door shut behind her with her bare foot, "Mom says you need your vitamins." She sashayed over, hips swaying with each exaggerated step, and set the tray on his lap—deliberately brushing her tits against his shoulder as she leaned in.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched around his cane. The drink sweated condensation onto his trousers, but his attention was fixed lower—on the way her shorts rode up when she perched on the armrest of his chair, revealing the plush curve of her bare ass. "You know," she mused, popping a grape into her mouth, "my last boyfriend used to love when I wore stuff like this. Said it made me look like a cheap slut." Her tongue flicked out to catch juice dribbling down her chin. "He wasn’t wrong."

The old man’s pulse spiked as she stretched, arching her back so her tits jutted toward his face. The scent of her—sun-warmed skin and something muskier—flooded his senses. Tae giggled, sliding off the armrest to kneel in front of him, her knees spreading wide on the rug.

"Oops," she breathed, pretending to adjust his shoelaces while her cleavage threatened to spill out of her top. "You’ve got dust here, grandpa." Her fingers trailed up his calf, inching higher. "Want me to… clean it for you?"

Outside, a lawnmower droned—the only barrier between them and her parents puttering in their garden. Tae’s grin turned wicked as she inched his pant leg up, her nails scraping his wrinkled skin. "One time," she whispered, thumb circling his anklebone, "I let three frat boys take turns on me in a library. They came so hard they stained the books." Jungkook’s cane clattered to the floor as she leaned in, her breath hot on his ear. "Bet you’ve never done anything that dirty, huh, grandpa?"

His hand shot out, gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise—but Tae just laughed, twisting free to stand. "Medicine time!" she chirped, sauntering to the kitchen like she hadn’t just wrecked him. Behind her, the shorts clung to the damp outline of her pussy. Jungkook exhaled through his nose. This wasn’t cleaning. This was torture.

She returned with a pill bottle, rattling it cheerfully. "Open wide, grandpa~" Tae perched on his lap again, thighs squeezing his hips as she popped the cap. The scent of her arousal clung to the air—thick, musky. Jungkook swallowed the pill dry, watching her tongue swipe her own lips after. "Good boy," she cooed, patting his cheek before sashaying to the bookshelf with a feather duster.

The ladder creaked under her weight as she stretched to reach the top shelf. Jungkook’s cane dug into the floor. Every movement sent her shorts riding higher—plump ass cheeks peeking out, the pink swell of her pussy glistening when she bent just so. "Oops," she giggled, glancing over her shoulder. "Forgot my panties again." The duster swiped lazily across spines while her free hand trailed down her own thigh, fingers inching toward that wet heat.

Jungkook’s knuckles cracked. Tae moaned softly—fake, exaggerated—as she wiped her fingers across her bare slit before pretending to dust again. "Dirty books," she sighed, arching her back to give him a full view of her dripping folds. The old man’s cock throbbed against his zipper.

Later, she knelt to mop the floor, her crop top gaping with every forward stroke. Her tits swung free—pink nipples hard, dragging through the soapy water. Tae glanced up through her lashes, biting her lip as she wrung the mop between her cleavage. "Messy," she purred, squeezing her tits around the handle.

Lunch was a performance. Tae peeled a banana slow, her tongue swirling the tip like she’s imagning it’s a dick, before taking it deep, gagging prettily with tears in her eyes. Juice dribbled down her chin as she hollowed her cheeks, slurping obscenely. "Hungry?" she asked innocently, twirling the mushy fruit between her fingers. Jungkook’s chair screeched as he stood—but the doorbell rang. Tae smirked, licking her palm clean. "Saved by Mom’s casserole, grandpa~"