We were both adults, me twenty-four and her twenty-two, but the house still felt like the old wrestling den from our teens. The basement mats were still there, dusty but usable, and after too many beers one Friday night the challenge flew out easy. "First to pin wins," she said, laughing, stripping down to a sports bra and shorts. I did the same, just shorts, and we circled.
It started rough and playful, her strong thighs locking around my waist as she tried to roll me. Sweat slicked our skin fast. Her breasts pressed against my chest when she got the upper hand, hard nipples dragging across me through thin fabric. I grunted, flipped her, and suddenly my crotch ground right into the cleft of her ass as I pinned her face-down. She bucked hard, trying to throw me off, and that motion dragged my swelling cock along the seam of her shorts.
"Fuck, watch it," she hissed, but neither of us stopped. The next scramble sent my hand sliding under her bra, fingers full of soft tit. She gasped and twisted, her palm accidentally cupping my balls through my shorts. Heat shot straight up my spine. We kept going, bodies slamming, legs tangling, until a bad roll left me on my back with her straddling my face, her shorts pulled aside from the fight. Her bare pussy hovered inches from my mouth, wet and flushed.
She froze for half a second. I should have shoved her off. Instead my tongue flicked out on instinct and licked. She moaned, low and shocked, then dropped her weight and ground down. My mouth sealed over her cunt, sucking and licking while she rode my face. Her shorts were gone in seconds, ripped the rest of the way off, and she reached back to yank my cock free. Her fist pumped it once, twice, then she spun around into a sixty-nine without thinking.
We were eating each other like we were starving. Her tongue dragged up my shaft, sloppy and eager, while I tongue-fucked her hole and rubbed her clit with my nose. The wrestling rules were forgotten. She came first, thighs clamping my head, juices flooding my mouth as she shook. I flipped her onto her back, spread her legs wide, and drove my cock straight into her soaked pussy in one hard thrust.
She cried out, half protest, half need, but her legs locked around my waist and pulled me deeper. "Don't stop, just don't fucking stop," she growled. I fucked her raw on the mats, skin slapping, sweat flying, her nails digging into my back. Every time I bottomed out she gasped my name like it was dirty. I came inside her with a roar, pumping thick loads while she milked me, her own orgasm crashing again around my cock.
We didn't talk after. We just kept going. She got on all fours and I took her from behind, watching my dick disappear into her dripping cunt. Later she rode me reverse, ass bouncing, while I fingered her asshole. By the time we finally collapsed, both of us were marked with bites and bruises, cum leaking down her thighs, the mats ruined.
The next morning we pretended it was the beer. But every time we passed the basement door after that, the air got thicker. We both knew the mats were waiting for round two.
