La apuesta en la azotea

“You think I can’t do it, don’t you?”

Mila’s voice cut through the hum of the city below, a challenge wrapped in a smile. She was leaning against the low parapet of my building’s rooftop, the skyline a glittering smear of gold and neon behind her. I’d just finished my last session of the day, and she’d cornered me before I could even head downstairs.

“I think you’ve got a great ass, but a weak core,” I said, nodding at the champagne bottle in her hand. “And I think you’re trying to bribe me into saying otherwise.”

She laughed, a low, throaty sound. “It’s a bet, Alex. One hundred push-ups on that concrete. You win, I drink this alone. I win…” She popped the cork with a practiced twist, the sound echoing in the warm evening air. “You drink it off my stomach.”

My cock twitched in my gym shorts. She was in a tiny black sports bra and yoga pants that clung to every curve like a second skin. Sweat still glistened on her collarbone from our session. She was a beautiful problem.

“You’re on.”

She dropped to the concrete, her form perfect. She cranked out fifty like they were nothing, her muscles flexing under her skin, a sheen of sweat breaking out on her lower back. At seventy, her arms started to shake. At eighty-five, she let out a ragged gasp, her body lowering to the ground.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her arms giving out. She rolled onto her back, breathing hard, her chest heaving. “Fine. You win.”

I walked over, the bottle cool in my hand. She was looking up at me, her eyes dark, a challenge still burning in them. “You gonna make me drink it all?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.

“No,” I said, kneeling beside her. “I’m gonna collect my prize.” I didn’t give her time to react. I tilted the bottle, letting a cool stream of champagne spill onto her stomach, just above the waistband of her pants. It pooled in her navel, tracing a path down her skin. She gasped, her body jerking at the cold.

I set the bottle down and leaned in, my tongue following the trail of bubbling liquid. Her skin was salty and sweet, the champagne sharp against my tongue. She tasted incredible. Her hands came up, tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

“Fuck, Alex,” she moaned, arching her back. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is wearing those pants to a workout,” I murmured against her skin, my mouth working its way down.

Her hands were already at the waistband of her yoga pants, shoving them down her hips. I helped her, peeling them off along with her soaked thong. She was already wet, her pussy glistening in the fading light. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

I didn’t wait. I lowered my head between her legs, my tongue finding her clit immediately. She cried out, her hips bucking against my mouth. I licked her slowly, savoring the taste of her, the way she gasped and squirmed. Her fingers were knotted in my hair, her thighs trembling on either side of my head.

“Please,” she begged, her voice raw. “Please, Alex, I need you inside me.”

I pulled away, my chin slick with her. I was rock hard, aching. I stood up, shoving my shorts down just enough to free my cock. It was thick and heavy, already leaking. I positioned myself between her legs, the head of my dick pressing against her entrance.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

She did, her eyes wide and dark. I pushed inside her in one slow, thick thrust. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as I filled her completely. She was so tight, so hot. I held still for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling her walls clench around me.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed.

I started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that had her moaning with every stroke. The city hummed below us, indifferent, but up here, it was just us. The warm night air, the smell of her sweat and champagne, the sound of our bodies slapping together.

I grabbed her hips, pulling her harder onto my cock, changing the angle. She cried out, her heels digging into my lower back. “Yes, right there, don’t stop,” she begged.

I fucked her harder, faster, the parapet digging into her back. Her tits bounced with every thrust, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. I could feel myself getting close, the pressure building at the base of my spine.

“I’m gonna cum,” I grunted.

“Inside me,” she begged, her eyes locked on mine. “I want to feel it.”

That was all it took. I slammed into her one last time, a guttural groan tearing from my throat as I flooded her, my cock pulsing inside her as she came with a shuddering cry, her body convulsing around me.

We stayed like that for a moment, panting, covered in sweat and champagne. Then she started to laugh, a low, breathless sound.

“You know,” she said, her voice still shaky. “I think I need a rematch.”

I grinned, pulling out slowly. “I think I need a shower first.”

“My place is closer,” she said, winking. “And I have more champagne.”

CATEGORIES: [Champagne, Fitness, Rooftop, Just the Two of Us, Rough sex]