Peaking at Swim Week

Swim Week in Miami was everything they said it would be -- lights, bodies, tension, and heat. After a year of clean eating and brutal workouts, I'd earned my place on the runway. I was fresh off my first walk, drenched in sweat and adrenaline, and harder than I'd ever been in my life.

Fifteen congratulatory hugs from some of the hottest women on Earth didn't help.

My cock was so hard, it barely fit in my trunks. I ducked behind a curtain looking for a bathroom, but instead opened a door and froze.

There, in front of a mirror, stood Mariana -- tanned, glistening, sculpted. Her heavy fake tits were barely contained in a tiny white bikini top, and her hand was buried between her legs.

She gasped when she saw me, startled -- but not embarrassed.

"Fuck," she said with a laugh. "Didn't think anyone would walk in."

I should've apologized. Turned around.

But my eyes were locked on her. She looked feral, frustrated. Her abs flexed, her pussy glistened through the pulled-aside bottom.

We knew each other well. She was one of my wife's best friends. We'd shared beach days and dinners, hugs and pool parties.

But never this.

"You look... insane," I said, voice thick with want.

"You're not looking so bad yourself," she replied, eyes dropping to my bulge. "Your wife's lucky. That thing looks dangerous."

I took a step in, cock practically throbbing in the open. "I thought you were up next on the runway."

"I am," she said, glancing back at the mirror. "But I'm pissed. I haven't peaked."

"Peaked?"

"My body," she said. "I look good -- but not perfect. There's a moment before a show when everything tightens. Blood flow. Dryness. Vascularity. I was trying to trigger it."

She looked at my cock again.

"There are a few tricks," she said. "For women, especially."

She stepped closer and palmed me through my trunks.

"You're gonna help."

⸻

We stripped fast.

My trunks hit the floor, and Mariana's bikini bottom followed. Her pussy was soaked -- lips puffy, glistening, eager. My cock stood straight up, thick, veiny, fully charged from the stage and her touch.

She sat on the edge of the prep table and spread her legs. I stepped between them, lined up, and pushed in.

"Oh fuck," she gasped.

Her pussy stretched around me, her walls clinging to every inch like they didn't want to let go. It wasn't just tight -- it was pressure. Wet, hot pressure.

"Jesus," she hissed, eyes rolling. "You're fucking huge."

"You said you could take it."

"I'm built for it."

I started slow, letting her body adjust. Inch by inch, I sank into her, watching her glisten in the overhead lights. She grabbed the edge of the table, her tits bouncing lightly with each deep stroke.

"Look," I said.

Behind her was a full-length mirror.

She turned her head and gasped at the sight: me, standing strong, driving my thick cock into her from between her sculpted thighs. Her own reflection -- sweaty, flushed, hair wild -- looked like a sex goddess mid-transformation. Her ass was spread wide, her pussy stuffed full.

We looked like two animals caught in something primal.

Then I started to fuck her -- hard.

Her body absorbed every thrust with power and tension. Her tits bounced wildly, her mouth hung open, and her legs wrapped around my hips, locking me in place.

"Fuck," she moaned. "You're hitting so deep."

"You feel like you were made for this."

"I am."

The table rocked. Our skin slapped together, echoing against the prep room walls. The sound of our bodies fucking drowned out the muffled noise of the show outside.

Then Mariana's voice cracked.

"I'm cumming -- fuck -- I'm cumming--"

Her entire body arched. Her pussy clamped down like a vice. She let out a cry, sharp and wild, as her orgasm tore through her. Her abs flexed hard, her thighs trembled, her pussy gushed around me.

But I wasn't close.

I kept going.

She gasped, legs twitching. "Yes -- keep going -- you're not done?"

"Not even close."

I gripped her harder and slammed into her. Her head snapped back. Her tits bounced harder. Her entire body flexed -- traps, shoulders, abs, even her calves.

She came again.

Veins popped across her chest and lower abs. Her arms shook. Her pussy clenched and pulsed, trying to milk me.

But I was still going.

Her third orgasm came hard. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, body locking in place, and I watched the mirror as she peaked -- blood rushing, muscles defined, pussy dripping, back arched in perfection.

She was glowing.

And still trembling.

⸻

When I finally pulled out, her pussy twitched open, leaking down her thighs.

She dropped to her knees without a word.

"Let me... refill," she whispered.

She took my cock in both hands, licking the head, slowly sliding it into her mouth. It was a challenge -- thick and heavy -- and her jaw strained to take it.

But she managed. Inch by inch.

I grabbed her hips and dragged her so she knelt in front of the mirror.

"Look."

She saw herself -- kneeling, spit dripping from her chin, lips wrapped around my cock. Behind her, her ass and pussy were on full display, still soaked and twitching from the fuck of her life.

I rolled my hips, fucking her mouth.

She took it. Moaned around it. Swallowed it deeper, eyes watering, nose brushing my pelvis.

I could feel it building -- deep, raw, primal.

I groaned, grabbed the back of her head, and exploded.

Thick jets of cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed desperately, drool spilling down her chin. I kept cumming -- hot, heavy, pulsing -- until she was full, her eyes locked on the mirror the whole time.

When I finally pulled out, she was gasping.

She stood slowly.

And fuck -- she looked perfect.

Tight. Veiny. Pumped. Her skin glowed with orgasm and sweat. Her abs were cut deep. Her tits were flushed. Her eyes? Lethal.

"You've never looked better," I said, cock still slick in my hand.

She smiled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Then I leaned in and whispered:

"Now go fucking get them."

She winked, pulled her bikini back on, and walked out like she owned the world.