Losing the Bet to Her Black Sparring Partner

I’ve never been the type to back down from a challenge, not in the cage and sure as hell not when it comes to a man who looks at me like Andre does. Twenty-eight years old, five-foot-six of lean white muscle and stubborn pride, and I’d spent the better part of six months getting my ass handed to me—and occasionally handing it right back—by the tallest, darkest, most unfairly built sparring partner the gym had ever thrown at me. Andre. Thirty-two. Six-four. Shoulders that blocked out the fluorescent lights when he stood over me on the mat. Skin the deep, rich brown of espresso, gleaming under a sheen of sweat that made every cut of his chest and abs look carved. And that cocky little half-smile he wore whenever I got frustrated enough to swear at him.

We trained three, four nights a week after the regular classes cleared out. The place smelled like rubber mats, old leather, and the sharp bite of cleaner. I’d show up in my usual spandex shorts and sports bra, blonde hair yanked into a tight ponytail, already half-wet from the warm-up. He’d be waiting, wrapping his hands, those thick fingers flexing, eyes dragging slow over my thighs and the pale strip of stomach I never quite covered. The banter started light. Then it got heavier.

“You’re dropping your right again, Simone,” he’d say, circling me, voice low and amused. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna put you on your back.”

“In your dreams, big guy.” I’d shoot back, bouncing on the balls of my feet, trying not to stare at the way his compression shorts hugged the heavy bulge between his legs. “I’ve been watching your hips. You’re telegraphed as fuck.”

He’d grin, white teeth flashing against that dark skin. “Yeah? Come find out.”

Weeks of that. Hands lingering too long when he corrected my clinch. My palm sliding down the sweat-slick plane of his back “by accident” when I sprawled. The air between us got thick enough to chew. I started leaving the gym with my pussy aching, replaying the way his body felt crushing mine into the mat, that deep rumble of his laugh vibrating through my ribs. He’d catch me looking at his mouth, at the thick vein running down his forearm, and he’d just raise an eyebrow like he knew exactly where my head was at.

It came to a head on a Thursday night. Empty gym. Just us, the hum of the vents, and the slap of skin on canvas. We’d been going hard for forty minutes. My sports bra was soaked through, nipples tight and obvious against the fabric. His shirt was long gone, dark chest rising and falling, a single bead of sweat tracing the deep V that disappeared into his waistband. I shot for a double-leg and he sprawled hard, dumping me onto my back and pinning my wrists above my head for half a second longer than necessary. His hips settled between my thighs. I felt him—thick, half-hard, undeniable—pressed right against the thin spandex covering my cunt.

I bucked up on pure instinct, grinding once before I could stop myself. His eyes went dark.

“Careful, girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “Keep moving like that and I’m gonna forget this is just training.”

I should’ve shut up. I didn’t. Pride is a mean little bitch, and mine was fully in the driver’s seat. I shoved at his chest until he let me up, both of us breathing hard, faces close.

“You think you’re hot shit because you can hold me down,” I said, wiping sweat from my collarbone, very aware of how my pale skin flushed pink under his gaze. “One clean takedown. Me on you. If I get it, you’re my personal training slave for a whole month. Everything I say. Early mornings, extra rounds, you carry my bag, you fetch my water, you hold pads until your arms fall off. Mine.”

Andre’s mouth curved slow. He stepped in closer until I had to tip my head back to hold his eyes. The heat rolling off him made my stomach flip.

“And if you don’t?” he asked, quiet. Dangerous.

My pulse hammered in my throat, between my legs. I knew exactly what I was doing. The words came out anyway, reckless and dripping with everything we’d been dancing around.

“If you win… I submit. Whatever sexual favor you want. No limits we haven’t already circled a hundred times with our eyes. You name it, I do it. Right here or wherever the fuck you decide.”

Silence stretched. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, lingering on the hard points of my nipples, the damp crotch of my shorts. I saw his cock twitch visibly against the fabric. My own pussy clenched, slick and traitorous.

“Say that again,” he said. “Slow.”

I licked my lips. Tasted salt. “I bet you, Andre. I take you down clean in the next round, you’re my slave for thirty days. You take me down—or submit me, or whatever it takes for you to win—and I get on my knees, on my back, bent over the cage, wherever. I take that big Black dick however you want to give it to me. I suck it. I ride it. I let you stretch this tight white pussy open until I can’t walk straight. Your call. All of it.”

He exhaled through his nose, a rough sound that went straight to my clit. One of his hands came up and brushed a damp strand of hair off my cheek, thumb dragging across my lower lip. I opened for it without thinking, let the pad of his thumb press against my tongue for a second. The taste of his skin made my thighs press together.

“You’re serious,” he said. Not a question.

“Dead serious.” My voice came out huskier than I meant. “We’ve been eye-fucking each other for months. I’m tired of going home to my vibrator replaying the way you mount me on the mat. So put your money where your mouth is. Or your mouth where I want it. Dealer’s choice when you win.”

He laughed then, low and dark, and the sound vibrated through my bones. “Oh, I’m gonna win, Simone. And when I do, I’m not gonna be gentle about collecting. I’ve thought about burying my face between those pale thighs since the first week you walked in here talking shit. Thought about watching my cock disappear into that pretty pink pussy while you moan my name. You sure you want to hand me that kind of free rein?”

My nipples ached. I could feel how wet I already was, the fabric of my shorts clinging. I stepped in until my breasts brushed his chest, until I had to feel the thick ridge of him against my stomach.

“I’m counting on it,” I whispered. “But you still have to beat me first. And I don’t go down easy.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” His hand slid down my back, cupped my ass hard enough to leave a print, squeezed. “I want you fighting it. Want you squirming and swearing while I peel these little shorts off and spread you open. Want to hear that smart mouth begging once I’ve got you stuffed full.”

I shivered, full-body, and didn’t even try to hide it. “Then we agree. Right now. Verbal contract. No take-backs. Winner takes all.”

He held my stare, deadly serious now beneath the heat. “Agreed. You hit a clean takedown next round, I’m yours for a month. Pads, drills, laundry, foot rubs, whatever your demanding little heart wants. I win—” his fingers dug into the underside of my cheek, pulling me tighter against the hard length of him “—and you spend the rest of the night with my cock in every hole that’ll fit it. And tomorrow. And however many times after that it takes before I’m satisfied I’ve collected in full. You submit completely. Color?”

“Green,” I said immediately, the word tumbling out eager and raw. “So fucking green. I want it. I want you to wreck me if you earn it.”

“Good girl.” He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear, breath hot. “I’m gonna enjoy making that pale skin red. Gonna love watching you drip down my balls while you try to take all of me. You ever had a Black man before, Simone?”

I shook my head, honest, pulse roaring. “No. You’ll be the first.”

Something possessive and hungry flashed across his face. “Even better. I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else. Stretch this tight little cunt so good you’ll feel me every time you sit down for a week.”

I was trembling now, shameless, grinding the slightest bit against his thigh. “Big talk for a guy who still has to put me on the mat.”

He released me slowly, stepped back, and started rewrapping his hands with deliberate care, never breaking eye contact. “Round starts in two minutes. Hydrate. Stretch those hips open. You’re gonna need it.”

I walked to my bag on legs that felt unsteady, grabbed my water, and drank without tasting it. My reflection in the mirror along the wall showed flushed cheeks, blown pupils, nipples blatantly stiff. Behind me I watched Andre roll his shoulders, that powerful back flexing, the heavy swing of his cock against his shorts every time he moved. My cunt throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I could already imagine losing—his weight pinning me, those big hands wrenching my shorts aside, the thick dark head of him notching against my soaked entrance and pushing in while I gasped.

Or winning. Having him on his knees in front of me for a month, that mouth available whenever I crooked a finger. Both fantasies made me drip.

I turned back to the mat. He was waiting in the center, bouncing lightly, eyes locked on me like a predator who’d already decided how he wanted his meal cooked.

“Ready when you are, white girl,” he said, voice pure filthy promise. “Come try to take what’s mine. Or come get taken.”

I stepped onto the canvas, raised my hands, and felt the bet settle over both of us like a live wire. Whatever happened in the next three minutes was going to change everything. My body was already singing for the loss I half-craved and the victory I was too proud not to chase. Andre’s gaze dropped one more time to the apex of my thighs, then back to my eyes, and he smiled like a man who fully intended to collect every filthy inch of what I’d just offered him.

I exploded off the line the second we touched gloves, shooting low for his lead leg like I’d planned it in the mirror a hundred times. Andre sprawled, but I already had the inside position, driving my shoulder into his hip and wrapping both arms tight around that thick thigh. His weight was ridiculous—pure dense muscle—but momentum and spite carried me. I dumped him hard onto his back, the mat booming under us, and scrambled for mount before he could shrimp free. For one glorious, heart-hammering second I had him. My knees clamped his ribs, blonde ponytail whipping across my face as I postured up and dropped a sharp elbow that he barely blocked. His dark eyes flashed surprise, then pure filthy heat.

“Almost, white girl,” he growled, voice rough with effort and something hungrier. “But almost don’t pay the bet.”

I tried to settle my weight, hunting the armbar, hips already shifting to swing over his head. My pussy was soaked through the spandex, every grind of my crotch against his hard stomach sending a jolt straight to my clit. I could feel how thick he was under me even then, that heavy cock trapped sideways in his compression shorts, twitching every time I moved. Pride screamed that I had him. One clean finish and he’d be mine for a month—on his knees holding pads, fetching water, that mouth available whenever I wanted it.

He used the reach I’d always hated. Long arms snaked under my hips, those massive hands clamping my ass and yanking me forward off-balance. Superior strength flipped the script in a brutal bridge-and-roll that dumped me onto my back so fast the air left my lungs. Suddenly Andre was between my thighs again, heavier this time, deliberate. He pinned both wrists above my head with one big hand, the other braced beside my face, and settled his full weight down. The thick ridge of his cock—now fully hard, straining obscenely against the fabric—ground right against my thigh, then higher, dragging over the soaked crotch of my shorts.

“Fuck,” I gasped, bucking on instinct. It only pressed him tighter. Heat radiated off his bare chest, sweat dripping from his dark skin onto my pale stomach. His hips rolled once, slow and filthy, letting me feel every inch of that Black cock he planned to bury in me.

He leaned down until his mouth brushed my ear, breath hot, voice a low rasp that made my cunt clench hard. “You almost had me, Simone. Almost put me on my back like a good little slave. But I’ve been waiting six fucking months to claim this tight white pussy. Dreamed about it every night after you left—spreading these pale thighs, watching my cock stretch you open while you moan like the filthy girl you are under all that fight talk.”

I thrashed, not to escape, just to feel more of him. My sports bra had ridden up; one stiff pink nipple scraped his chest. Dirty talk poured out of me before I could stop it, confessional and raw even in the moment. “Then fucking take it. You’ve been eye-fucking me since day one, grinding that big dick on me every time you mount. I go home dripping, fingers in my cunt replaying how heavy you feel. Pin me. Use me. I bet it and I meant it—wreck this white pussy if you earned it.”

His laugh was dark, vibrating through my ribs. He released my wrists only to shove my thighs wider with his knees, grinding that hardening cock directly against my clit through the thin layers. The friction was electric, shameless. I could feel the thick head outlined perfectly, leaking precome that darkened his shorts. My own wetness had soaked through; the scent of us mixed with mat rubber and sweat filled the empty gym.

“Look at you,” he murmured, rolling his hips in a filthy rhythm that made my eyes roll back. “Fighting so hard and still soaking my cock through your shorts. I’ve wanted to peel these off and bury my face in that pretty pink cunt since the first time you talked shit. Wanted to watch my dark dick disappear into you while you claw my back and beg. No limits, remember? You’re gonna take every inch tonight. Gonna cream all over me until it runs down my balls.”

I arched hard, nails raking down his sweat-slick back. “Do it then. Stop teasing and collect. I can feel how hard you are—thicker than anything I’ve ever had. Stretch me. Fuck me right here where anyone could walk in. I want to feel that Black cock claim what’s yours.”

The last thread snapped. We moved like animals. His hands yanked my sports bra up and over my head in one rough pull; my bare tits bounced free, pale and flushed, nipples tight and aching. I shoved at his waistband just as hard, hooking my thumbs and dragging the compression shorts down until his cock sprang out heavy and dark against my thigh—thick, veined, the fat head already glistening. Jesus Christ it was bigger than I’d even fantasized, the kind of cock that made my mouth water and my pussy flutter in equal fear and need. I wrapped my fingers around it on pure instinct, stroking once, feeling it pulse hot in my pale grip while he groaned like he’d been punched.

“Fuck, Simone—” He ripped my shorts and thong down together, the soaked fabric peeling sticky from my cunt. Cool air hit my bare, dripping pussy for half a second before his fingers were there, two thick digits sliding through my folds, spreading me open, sinking knuckle-deep without warning. I cried out, hips jerking up to take them. He scissored inside me, thumb rough on my clit, eyes locked on where his darker skin disappeared into my pink.

“So fucking tight. Gonna ruin this little white hole. Look how wet you got just from losing.” He pumped his fingers hard, curling them, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet gym. I stroked his cock faster, smearing the precome down the shaft, thumb circling the head while I arched and swore.

We shredded the rest of the gear in frantic handfuls—hand wraps half-unraveled, his shorts kicked free, my shoes somehow gone. Naked on the mats, breathless, bodies slick and sliding. He settled back between my spread thighs, that massive cock dragging heavy along my slit, notching against my entrance but not pushing in yet. Just grinding, coating himself in my cream, the thick head kissing my clit on every upstroke while he braced over me on powerful arms.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, voice wrecked, hips rolling slow and torturous. “Tell me what you owe me.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into that perfect ass, pulling him closer until the pressure made me whimper. My confessional mouth wouldn’t shut up even now. “I lost. Fair and square. This tight white pussy is yours to pound however you want—deep, hard, until I can’t walk. Stuff me full of that big Black dick. Make me take it all. Stretch me open and fill me till it leaks. I’ve never had one before and I want you to be the first to wreck me for anyone else. Fuck me on these mats like you own me, Andre. Collect every filthy inch of the bet.”

His forehead dropped to mine, both of us shaking, sweat dripping from his dark chest onto my pale tits. The head of his cock pressed firmer, starting to breach, the stretch already burning perfect and promised. My cunt fluttered greedily around just that thick tip. We were right there—desperate, open, seconds from him burying every inch—when a distant door slammed somewhere deeper in the building, footsteps echoing faint down the hall. Reality flickered. Not enough to stop us, but enough to make his hips still for one suspended breath, cock still kissing my entrance, both of us panting like we’d sprinted miles.

He didn’t pull away. Just held there, grinding the barest fraction deeper, voice low and rough against my mouth. “We’re not done. Not even close. You’re still gonna take every bit of what you promised. Right here. Right now. Let them hear you scream my name when I finally sink into this dripping little cunt.”

I nodded frantically, nails biting his shoulders, hips trying to force him deeper. The tension coiled tighter instead of breaking—his cock throbbing against me, my pussy clenching on nothing but the promise of being filled, dirty words still spilling between us as the footsteps faded again and the empty gym held its breath around our naked, locked bodies.

He didn’t sink into me. Not yet. Andre pulled back just enough that the thick, glistening head of his cock left my entrance with a wet kiss, leaving me empty and aching. My hips chased him on pure need, a broken sound tearing out of my throat.

“On your knees,” he ordered, voice low and absolute. The command cracked through me like a whip. This was exactly what I’d secretly craved—him taking the free rein I’d handed over, no more teasing, just raw ownership. I scrambled off the mat onto the canvas edge, bare knees hitting the textured surface, blonde hair half-loose and sticking to my sweat-damp cheeks. My pale tits hung heavy, nipples tight and dark pink, pussy dripping a shiny trail down my inner thighs as I looked up at him.

Andre stood over me like a dark god, six-four of carved espresso muscle, that massive Black cock jutting heavy and veined from his hips, the fat head flushed almost purple and already slick with my cream. He wrapped one big hand around the base, stroking once, letting a thick bead of precome well up and drip. “Open that smart mouth, Simone. You’re gonna choke on this before I wreck your cunt. Show me how bad you lost.”

I leaned in shameless, tongue out, and licked a broad wet stripe from his balls up the underside of that thick shaft. The taste of him—salt, musk, pure man—exploded across my tongue. My pale fingers barely closed around him as I stroked the base and sealed my lips over the head, sucking hard. He groaned deep, one hand fisting my ponytail, and shoved forward. I gagged immediately, eyes watering, but I forced my throat open and took him deeper, lips stretching obscenely around the dark girth. Spit ran down my chin onto my tits as he started fucking my face in short, powerful thrusts.

“That’s it—fuck, look at you. Tight white throat stretched around my cock. Been dreaming about this every night I went home hard.” His hips rolled, burying another inch until my nose pressed to the trimmed hair at his base and I couldn’t breathe. Tears streaked my cheeks. I moaned around him anyway, the vibration making his cock throb on my tongue. My free hand snaked between my legs, two fingers plunging into my dripping pussy, fucking myself messy while I deepthroated him like the filthy bet-loser I was. Every time he pulled back I gasped wetly, strings of spit connecting my swollen lips to his shaft, then dove right back on, cheeks hollowed, eyes locked up on his dark, hungry face.

He used my mouth for long minutes, collecting every inch of the submission I’d promised, until my jaw ached and my cunt was clenching around nothing but my own fingers. Then he yanked free with a wet pop, cock shining, a thick rope of spit and precome dangling from the head to my tongue. “Enough. Get up. Over the ropes.”

I stumbled to my feet on shaky legs, pussy so wet it smeared across my thighs with every step. He guided me to the nearest ring ropes—thick, slightly frayed, smelling of old leather and sweat—and bent me over them hard. The top rope dug into my bare stomach just under my tits; my ass pushed out, pale and upturned, pussy lips swollen and glistening pink against the darker contrast of his body behind me. Andre’s big hands gripped my hips, thumbs spreading my cheeks so he could stare at everything he’d won.

“Look at this dripping white hole. All mine.” He dragged the fat head of his cock up and down my slit, coating himself again, then notched it and slammed home in one brutal, claiming thrust. I screamed—half pain, half pure ecstasy—as that massive Black cock stretched me wider than anything I’d ever taken. The burn was perfect, the fullness so complete my eyes rolled back. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He just started pounding, powerful strokes that slapped his heavy balls against my clit and made the ropes creak under us.

“Fuck—Andre—oh God, so deep—” Words poured out of me, confessional and raw, while he railed me from behind like he was trying to rearrange my guts. Every thrust shoved me forward over the ropes; every pullback left me gaping and desperate before he filled me again. My tits swung, nipples scraping the rough rope. Sweat flew from his dark chest onto my pale back. I could feel every thick vein, every ridge, the way the fat head punched against my cervix and made white-hot sparks explode behind my eyes. My pussy clenched and fluttered, cream frothing white around his shaft and dripping down both our thighs.

“Take it,” he snarled, one hand cracking across my ass hard enough to leave a glowing handprint. “This is what you bet. Tight little white pussy getting destroyed by real dick. Feel how it owns you.” I pushed back to meet every stroke, shameless, moaning his name like a prayer while the empty gym echoed with the wet, filthy sounds of him fucking me stupid. My orgasm coiled tight and mean, but he wasn’t done collecting.

Without warning he pulled out, spun me, and flipped me onto my back right there on the canvas just inside the ropes. He shoved my legs wide—knees nearly to my shoulders—pinning them open with those powerful arms so I was completely exposed, pink cunt gaping and creamy from the pounding. Then he sank back into me in one long, eye-rolling thrust, burying every inch until his hips were flush to mine. Missionary. Face to face. Those dark eyes locked on mine and didn’t look away.

“Keep looking at me,” he demanded, voice wrecked, starting a deep, grinding rhythm that dragged his cock over every sensitive spot inside me. “I want to watch you break.” Sweat dripped from his brow onto my lips; I licked it off. My pale hands clawed at his broad back, nails leaving red lines across that rich brown skin. Every stroke stretched me anew, the contrast of his dark cock disappearing into my pink folds the hottest thing I’d ever seen. We stared into each other—his hunger, my total surrender—while he fucked me slow and devastating, then harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the gym again.

“I’ve never… felt anything… like this,” I confessed between broken moans, legs trembling in his grip. “So full… fucking ruin me… I’m yours—” My clit ground against his pubic bone on every downstroke. The pressure built until I was shaking apart, walls fluttering hard around his shaft.

“Come for me,” he growled, hips snapping. “Come on this Black cock while I watch.” I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me so violently my back arched off the mat, pussy clamping down in rhythmic pulses that milked him hard. I screamed his name, vision whiting out, juices gushing around his still-thrusting cock. The second my cunt started fluttering he yanked free, fist flying over that glistening dark shaft, and painted me.

Thick, hot ropes of cum lashed across my heaving tits, striping my pale skin in pure white. Another heavy spurt hit my collarbone, then my chin, my open panting mouth, my cheeks. He milked every drop onto my face and chest while I kept coming around the empty space he’d left, thighs shaking, eyes still locked on his as his seed cooled sticky on my skin. I looked wrecked—blonde hair wild, lips swollen, body marked by him—and still I wanted more.

Andre braced over me, breathing hard, that heavy cock still half-hard and shiny as he dragged two fingers through the cum on my tits and pushed them into my mouth. I sucked them clean without being told, tasting us mixed together, already aching for the next round I knew he wasn’t finished collecting.

He kept his fingers in my mouth until I’d licked every drop of his cum clean, the salty-thick taste of him coating my tongue while I sucked harder than I needed to, eyes still locked on his. My tits heaved under the cooling stripes of white he’d painted across them, sticky ropes already starting to dry on my pale skin, one thick trail sliding slow between my breasts toward my navel. Andre’s cock hung heavy and half-hard between us, still glistening with my cream and his own spend, the dark shaft twitching like it wasn’t finished claiming what it had won. I felt emptied and stuffed at the same time—pussy gaping and dripping, thighs slick, the deep ache of how wide he’d stretched me pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

He didn’t pull away. Just braced on those massive arms, dark chest rising and falling inches above mine, sweat dripping from his espresso skin onto the mess he’d made of me. My legs were still hooked loose around his waist, heels resting on the hard muscle of his ass, the ropes creaking faintly beside us every time one of us shifted. The empty gym held the wet slap-echo of what we’d just done, the sharp rubber-and-sex smell thick enough to taste. I could still feel the ghost of that thick Black cock punching against my cervix, the way my walls had fluttered and milked him when I came screaming his name.

“Still green?” he rasped, voice wrecked, thumb brushing a smear of cum off my lower lip.

“Greener than fuck,” I whispered back, confessional even now, the words tumbling out raw. “You collected. Every filthy inch. My throat, my cunt—Christ, Andre, I’ve never been stretched like that. Never felt anything that thick ruin me so good.” My pale fingers traced the red lines my nails had left across his back, then slid down to wrap loosely around his cock again, feeling it thicken under my touch, the heavy weight of it jumping in my grip. Precome beaded fresh at the tip; I smeared it over the fat head with my thumb and watched his abs clench.

He groaned low and rolled us carefully, keeping me pinned under half his weight so we didn’t slide off the canvas. We ended up tangled on our sides right there on the mats, bodies locked together—my cum-streaked tits smashed to his chest, one of his thick thighs shoved hard between mine so the still-throbbing ridge of his cock nestled right against my soaked, swollen folds. Every tiny shift dragged that dark heat through my cream, making my clit spark. His big hand cupped my ass, fingers digging into the glowing handprint he’d left earlier, holding me open so the cool gym air kissed the mess leaking out of me. I felt loose and used and so fucking full of him I could barely think.

We just breathed for a long minute, chests heaving against each other, sweat slicking every place pale skin met brown. His free hand stroked lazy up and down my spine, not gentle—possessive, claiming, like he was still deciding which hole to wreck next. I buried my face against the side of his neck and tasted salt, the deep musky scent of him after he’d fucked me stupid. My pussy clenched hard around nothing, another slow trickle of our mixed juices sliding down my inner thigh onto the mat. I was wrecked—blonde hair a wild mess sticking to my face, lips swollen from choking on his cock, nipples still tight and sensitive where they scraped his chest, cunt raw and aching in the best way. Every pulse reminded me exactly how deep he’d been, how completely that big Black dick had owned the tight white pussy I’d bet.

The confession rose up unbidden, spilling out between ragged breaths while we lay tangled, catching what air we could. “The bet was bullshit,” I said, voice husky and stripped bare, confessional to the bone. “Just an excuse. I’ve wanted you for months—every single time you mounted me on these mats, every time that cock pressed against me through the shorts, every night I went home finger-fucking myself replaying how heavy you felt pinning me down. I started dropping my right on purpose half the time just so you’d put me on my back again. Dreamed about this exact fucking thing: you stretching me open, painting me, making me take it until I couldn’t walk. Winning or losing didn’t matter. I needed you to wreck me.”

Andre’s chest rumbled against mine, that cocky half-smile spreading slow across his dark face even as his hips gave a dirty little grind that dragged his thickening cock right through my slick folds. He grinned down at me, white teeth flashing, eyes pure filthy heat. “The wager is far from over, Simone. Not even close. I’ve already got plans for round two in the shower—gonna bend you over under the spray, soap up that pretty pink cunt, and fuck another load so deep into you it drips down your legs the whole walk home. Then maybe the locker-room bench after that. You’re still submitting. Still mine to fill until I’m satisfied I’ve collected in full.”

His hand slid from my ass to fist my hair, yanking my head back so he could watch my face while he rolled his hips harder, the fat head of his cock notching against my entrance again, teasing the stretch without pushing in. Cum and cream smeared thick between us. I moaned, shameless, grinding back, already aching to be ruined all over again. The mats were soaked under my ass, my thighs trembling around his, every nerve still singing from the first pounding. He leaned in close, breath hot against my ear, that massive body locking me in place like he owned every pale inch.

“Feel that?” he growled, cock throbbing right against my fluttering hole. “Still hard for this tight white pussy. Gonna stuff you full again until you cream all over my balls and beg me to stop—then I’m gonna keep going anyway because you lost fair and square and this dripping little cunt belongs to me now.”

I clenched hard around the promise of him, more of his earlier load squeezing out onto his shaft, and whispered the only truth left in me while the empty gym listened: “Then fucking use it—stretch this cum-filled white hole open with that big Black dick until I can’t take another inch without screaming.”