Ola de calor en la azotea

The city sprawled beneath us like a circuit board, all glittering lights and the distant hum of traffic. I’d met Lena an hour ago at a bus stop, both of us stranded by a canceled line, and somehow we’d ended up here—the rooftop of a condemned building she swore she knew how to reach. The air was thick with summer heat, and her tank top clung to her like it was a secret she was tired of keeping.

“You do this often?” I asked, watching her lean against the crumbling parapet.

“Climb onto roofs with strangers?” She grinned, wiping sweat from her collarbone. “Only when the bus fucks me over.” She laughed, and the sound was loose, easy. “You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Good.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her—sunscreen and something sweet, like warm vanilla. “Because I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to you since you sat down next to me.”

My cock stirred instantly, and she noticed. Her eyes dropped, and her grin widened.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’s what I thought.”

She reached out and grabbed me through my jeans, palm pressing hard against the outline. I hissed, my hips bucking into her hand. “Lena…”

“Shh.” She unbuttoned my jeans with one hand, the other still gripping me. “We’re not exactly private here.”

She pulled my cock out, and the hot night air hit the slick tip. I was already leaking. She licked her palm, then wrapped her fingers around the shaft, stroking slow. A groan slipped out of me. She pressed her other hand over my mouth, eyes sparkling.

“Quiet,” she breathed, pumping me faster. “You want someone to hear?”

I shook my head, but my hips were moving on their own, fucking her fist. She tightened her grip, thumb rubbing over the head, smearing the wetness. I was close already—too close. I grabbed her wrist.

“Not yet,” I managed.

“Fine.” She let go and turned around, bracing her hands on the parapet. Her shorts were already loose, and she slid them down her thighs, revealing the curve of her bare ass—no underwear. She looked back at me over her shoulder.

“Then fuck me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I stepped up behind her, my hands gripping her hips, and guided my cock to her entrance. She was already soaked—I could feel the wet heat before I even pushed in. I slid inside her in one slow, thick push, and she gasped, her fingers digging into the concrete.

“Fuck,” she whimpered.

“Shh,” I echoed her, and she laughed breathlessly.

I started moving, slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. The sounds were obscene—wet, slapping skin, her soft moans swallowed by the hum of the city below. My hand snaked around her front, finding her clit. She bucked against me.

“Harder,” she begged, and I obliged, slamming into her. The parapet scraped her elbows, but she didn’t care. I could feel her tightening around me, her whole body trembling.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped.

“Do it,” I growled, pressing deeper.

She came with a shuddering cry, clamping down on my cock so hard I saw stars. I pulled out just in time, stroking myself twice before I spilled across the small of her back, hot and thick. She stayed bent over, panting, and I leaned down to kiss the sweat between her shoulder blades.

We cleaned up with a spare shirt from my bag, and she laughed the whole way down the fire escape. The morning found us at a tiny café two blocks away, the sun already brutal. She had a coffee stain on her lip, and I couldn’t stop staring.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” she said, smirking over her cup.

«¿Como qué?»

“Like you want the rooftop back.”

I didn’t answer. I just smiled, and she bit her lip, glancing at the window that led to the fire escape.

CATEGORIES: [Summer Sex, Stranger, Outdoor fucking, Just the Two of Us, Morning sex]