Winner Takes All

Alexa lost a bet, or maybe she just wanted an excuse to get her clothes off. She climbs onto Ralf’s lap in the middle of the room, hips rolling slow. Her bare ass drags over the front of his pants, heat meeting heat through thin cotton. She feels him thicken under her, pulse steady against her cleft. Ralf keeps his hands off at first, watching. When she leans back he catches her waist, then lets his palms slide lower, cupping the same skin she’s been teasing him with. A quiet pause, then she swings around, knees planted on the couch, head dipping between his thighs. She takes him deep, mouth warm and wet, throat working in time with the slow grind of her hips above his face. Ralf answers with his tongue, tracing the tight ring between her cheeks, then lower, tasting everything she gives him. She shifts again, turns, straddles his chest the other way, and sinks down until she can taste herself on him. Back and forth, the line blurs—mouth to cock, mouth to ass—until the rhythm tightens and his hips lift. He comes across her tongue; she swallows, keeps sucking until he stops twitching, then sits back with a wet shine on her lips.