Game On…

rainbowcircle1-150

“Night, Joe, get home to that wife of yours,” Sam nudged his last drunken customer out before bolting the double doors. He turned, stifling a yawn, and jumped, “Fuck! Fuck! Betty! I thought everyone was gone, you scared the shit out of me!”

She grinned, her bare legs swinging playfully as she perched on the edge of the bar, “Well Boss, it’s the end of my first week here so I wanted to ask you how I’m doing,” she replied.

Taking the stool next to her, he ran his fingers through his long hair and sighed, “You’re doing great Betty. You’re fitting in real good around here. But it’s late, I’m tired.” He noticed that she had kicked her shoes off and had a small black spider tattoo on her ankle, matching the black polish on her nails.

Sliding down from the bar to stand beside him, her eyes flickered across the room, “You ever play?”

He glanced behind him at the pool table and looked back at her, “Yeah. It’s been awhile, but yeah.”

“How about a game then? Celebrate my first week?”

He looked at the freckles that peppered her nose and cheeks as she smiled up at him. He’d already noticed that she was pretty, really pretty; short spikey auburn hair, a little curvy body and those eyes – moss green and locked onto his, “Ok. One game. It’s late.”

“Watch yourself Sam, she’s just a kid, 22 at most. Hell, she could be your kid,” he thought as he switched on the overhead lamp and set up the table.

“You wanna break?” he handed her a cue.

“Nah ah. Never played before. Best you show me the basics,” she stood opposite him, the light catching her copper highlights, the green felt on the table accentuating her eyes. She had hooked the cue across her shoulders, wrists hanging loosely over it, opening her chest wide.

“Never?”

“Nope! You could say I’m a pool virgin,” she giggled.

She watched him lean over the table, ready to take his shot. His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbow, revealing his sleeve of tattoos beneath the dark hair. She had been watching those hands and arms all week as he pulled draft beer and lifted cases of stock – strong, sculpted arms, with muscles that flexed just right. His hands so big they made her wonder how they would feel around her throat.

Crack! The balls scattered in all directions, but none sank into any pockets.

“Going easy on me?” her eyebrow arched as she bent over and lined up her shot, aiming and striking the white. She grinned at his surprise when two balls pocketed.

“You said you never played?!”

Still crouched over the table, she looked up at him from under her lopsided fringe, “Beginners luck, I guess.”

She straightened up and played with her cue, sliding her hand up and down along its length, running it through her fingers, “I’ll take stripes… that’s how it works if you sink both types of ball, right?”

“Game on, pool virgin,” Sam smirked as he hit the cue ball.

*

“Two spots, one stripe and the 8 ball left. And look whose turn it is?” Betty taunted circling the table and easily pocketing the remaining stripe.

“We never settled on what the winner gets,” said Sam, thinking, “What the fuck man? She’s sexy as hell, but keep it together.”

“How about… whatever they want?” she smiled sweetly across at him before slowly walking around to his side of the table, “Need a bit of space here,” she said over her shoulder and he stepped back to give her room.

Fully aware that he was standing directly behind her, Betty lifted onto her tiptoes and stretched over the table, knowing that her short denim skirt could not possibly hide her lace underwear. She parted her legs, her face flushed at the thought of his eyes on her now damp pants. She paused, glanced back over her shoulder and was satisfied to see his eyes roaming over her thighs and exposed bum. Very satisfied to see the bulge in his faded jeans.

She took the shot sank the 8, but remained crouched over the side rail, “Looks like I won.”

She felt his bulk behind her and his hands on her waist, “And what does the winner want as her prize?”

Arching her back, she leaned her ass into him, grinding herself long his thigh, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratch against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He responded, leaning his full weight over her before licking her earlobe, his breath hot and fast.

“You sure, Betty?”

She reached around in response and rubbed her hand along the thick bulge at his button fly, pressing herself into him more.

His fingers ran up from the back of her knee, to the edge of her underwear, teasing the fabric before pulling it to one side and sliding his thick finger inside her. She was more than ready for him, grinding her hips, her hands flat on the table to keep her steady.

She felt a second and third finger being pushed into her, filling her, pumping against her tight walls, as his other hand wrapped itself around her throat, pulling her head slightly back from the rough felt. She closed her eyes.

“Fuck Betty, you’re so wet!” he moved his hand faster, feeling her muscles clench around him. He squeezed a little tighter on her throat and loved the sound she made, not quite a groan, not quite a scream; guttural, feral, animalistic.

Her body arched, she came savagely over his hand, her hips bucking uncontrollably, before she sank her face back down onto the table.

Taking hold of her limp body, he turned her to face him, loving the crimson blush across her chest and cheeks. He lifted her to sit up onto the side bar, pushed her skirt to her waist and pulled her pants off her. Raising his eyebrow in a silent question his hand went to his fly. Still breathing heavily, she looked up at him and nodded.

He popped each button open and pulled out a rock hard, deliciously thick cock and stroked himself – his eyes locked on her face, her eyes locked on his crotch, pupils wide and dark as a bottomless well.

She shuffled back further onto the green fabric and parted her legs for him. Sam climbed onto the pool table and, kneeling between her open thighs, guided his pulsing erection to her soaked lips, teasing her for just a second, pressing himself against her hot, ready cunt, but he could not wait any longer to be inside her. Jeans bunched around his hips, he sank into her, feeling the heels of her little feet dig into his butt cheeks, drawing him deeper inside.

Under the glow of the overhead lamp they fucked like wild animals, clawing and biting at each other, gluttonous for each other. She felt his hot liquid fill her when he came, and kissed his stubbled throat while he cried out.

He opened his eyes and focused on her face; those freckles, those eyes and, knowing this was not the end of the night, bent his head to finally kiss her mouth.

“Pool virgin, my ass,” he grinned against her lips and breathed in her giggles.

💋

Copyright, 2018, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Advertisements

25 thoughts on “Game On…

  1. I once had a boyfriend who teached me to play pool. He has dreams is using me to bait people into betting him…. we never quite got to that stage but I did enjoy him teaching me. There was something about the way he watched and the closeness of him when he was directing my shots that was very hot. I should write a story about it really.

    Mollyx

    Liked by 1 person

What have you got to say?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s