Pool Shark

It was one of those days when nothing went right. My assistant called in sick, the phone rang relentlessly, and my computer froze and crashed 37 times. I needed to blow off some steam, preferably over an ice-cold beer, so I headed across the street to Billy’s Billiards.

Grabbing a cue stick and a Guinness, I walked through the cool dimness of the bar to a table in a secluded corner. As I racked, a crisp hundred dollar bill floated down to the center of the table. Intrigued, I looked up.

“A hundred dollars says I can beat you 10 games in a row,” a rugged-looking man said, leaning over the table as he stared down at me. I was startled—who did he think he was? Did he assume I was easy prey because I was a woman? Was a dead president supposed to impress me? I didn’t say anything and finished racking the balls. He kept staring into my eyes, waiting for a reply.

“I do not play strangers for money,” I said, chalking my cue.

“I’m William,” he said, smiling slyly. With his eyes slightly squinted, he resembled a young Clint Eastwood.

“My name is Kendra,” I said, placing my hand in his warm fingers.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Kendra, would you like to break?” His
assuredness was both sexy and infuriating.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to play with you.”

“Play with me. Think of it as a challenge, not a bet.” He chose his words carefully, baiting me every step of the way. I thought for a moment. It might be fun taking his money—and I could think of a few other things it might be fun to do with him.

I looked him coolly in the eyes. “Deal,” I said.

We set the rules. He had to win 10 games straight — we shook on it. He broke, and both the red and yellow solids went into the corner pockets. It wouldn’t be as easy as I thought. He cleared four balls off the table before I even had a chance to play. Bending over, I lined up my shot while he stood behind me, his heated gaze sweeping up my legs. I was wearing a blue business suit and heels. The skirt was short and tight, exposing most of my trim, muscular thighs. The hip-length jacket tied at the waist, subtly blousing open at the chest.
He won the first game quickly. I sunk only three balls before the second game was over.

“This was a lot easier than I imagined,” he said, flashing a toothy grin.

“You smug bastard,” I mumbled under my breath, as I smiled back. He had no idea whom he was dealing with. The room was quiet – the rest of the tables had been abandoned about an hour ago. The plan that had been slowly forming in my mind crystallized. I was going to have a little fun with this sexy son-of-a-bitch. Holding the cold white cue ball, I stepped a little closer to my partner.

“William, you are obviously a gambling man. How about we raise the stakes?” I asked in the tone of a shrewd business woman.

“What’s your offer?”

I rolled the ball along the edge of the table, stopping it two inches before him.

“This is the tenth and final game. I feel it should have an edge.”

“I’m listening,” he breathed, moving closer.

“For each ball sunk, an article of clothing comes off,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Every time I make a shot, you take off an article of clothing?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes, and every time I sink a ball, you remove an article of clothing.”

“You are full of surprises, Kendra, but you’re on!” After shaking hands again, I racked. He broke and sunk the two ball.

“Nice shot,” I said, seductively untying my jacket. It fell open slowly, exposing my cleavage. He tried to remain emotionless – until I shrugged it off my shoulders, exposing my full breasts, supported only by a flimsy sheer lace bra. His eyes sparkled like those of a child on Christmas morning. Swallowing hard, he took the next shot, and missed.

I lined up my shot and sunk the 15. He nodded in acknowledgment and pulled off his silky T-shirt. His chest was tan and toned, crying out for caresses as I sank the 10 ball in the corner pocket. Sitting on a bar stool, he removed his shoes and socks. I missed my next shot purposely, drawing out the inevitable and giving him false hope. His eyes shifted between the cue ball and my chest – unable to decide where to look. He banked the seven into the side pocket. Without any apprehension, I unzipped the back of my skirt and peeled it down my hips, wiggling free of the confining material. His eyes grew wide and I noticed they were a beautiful silver gray.

Stepping out of my skirt, I stood with my legs apart, leaning on the pool cue. He quickly looked for his next move, trying to keep a poker face. I could see the anticipation distracting him, furrowing his brow. He ricocheted the five ball into the corner pocket. Eagerly, I inched my pantyhose down my stomach and over my ass. Sitting on the edge of the table, I swung my legs across the wood trim.

Unable to resist, William gently removed my hands and slid his own fingers under my stockings. Gliding them down my thighs, he caressed my skin with his fingertips. For the first time, I noticed the intoxicating effect of his natural musk scent. He carefully removed the pantyhose from my feet and flung them over his shoulder like a hunter returning with his kill.

William missed his next shot – leaving the balls perfectly lined up, allowing me to hit the 12 and 14 in one turn. My abdominal muscles contracted with the excitement of seeing how stiff my competition really was as he unbuttoned his jeans. His stomach was flat, with just a hint of a six pack. Turning around, as if suddenly shy, he pulled down his boxers. His cute white ass looked as if it had never seen sunlight, and I wanted to pat its smooth moon to test for firmness. My eyes searched down the length of his body and stopped at his cock. It was thick and stiff. Smothering my smoldering lust, I leaned back over the table and cleared off the last three of my balls.

He stood with his mouth agape as the cue ball rolled slowly behind the eight ball for my last shot—and victory. All I had to do was kiss it and it would fall in – but that would not be as much fun as what I had planned. I wanted to make him squirm. He was not used to losing, and he didn’t know that I had been the tri-state pool champion for the last five years, and had only been toying with him for the last nine games.

Sliding the cue between my fingers, I hit it a little too hard, so that it overshot the pocket. A grand happy smile enveloped William’s face.
He took an easy shot and sank the three.

Arching my back, I unhooked my bra, so that my breasts toppled out of the flimsy cups. I leaned over the table, allowing them to sway before him. On his next shot, the ball rolled slowly and teetered on the edge of the pocket. He closed his eyes as if defeated, and I tipped it in with my finger. He heard the crack, opened his eyes and noticed the ball had vanished.

Smiling, he traced the elastic band of my panties with his finger. He knelt and pressed his face against my crotch, his breath warm like the juices he was calling forth. It was definitely time for a little break, I thought. Sliding off my panties with his teeth, he rubbed his nose up and down the small strip of pubic hairs. With two fingers, he parted my lips and tasted my pussy. The initial touch jolted electrically through me as he slowly flicked his tongue through the folds.

He lifted me on to the table, spread my legs wide and slipped my heels into the corner pockets. I was careful not to disturb the remaining balls on the green felt. Sliding a finger between my legs, William admired my naked body. His prick was hard as he touched my warm skin. His lips teased my clit, and I arched my back as he flicked his tongue harder.

“Right there, keep it right there,” I instructed in a faint voice, gripping the underside of the table. Pressing his face deep into my pussy, he drank in my juices as my body succumbed to the Big 0. He removed his hand, but continued to lick through the petals. When I opened my eyes, he was sucking his finger so as not to miss a drop of my delicate nectar.

Bringing my legs together, I sat up as he passionately plunged his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues twined ecstatically as I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock. He watched as I slid my tight fist up and down his shaft, gently grazing his balls with the tips of my painted fingernails. I knew he was ready to spill his load, so I stood up and bent over the table. Placing his manly hands on my ass, he kneaded his fingers into my cheeks and positioned himself behind me, sliding his cock between my legs. Maneuvering his prick through my pussy, he reached his hand under me, stimulating my clit. Our rhythm built to a crescendo of frantic fucking. For a half hour, he rocked my body, sending me into orgasm after orgasm. Wetness dripped from my nether lips. He held onto my shoulders as he climaxed and fell on to my back. We lay still in silence for a few moments, savoring the afterglow. When he withdrew, I stood up and dressed. He watched, silent.

“It’s your shot,” I said, grabbing my stick. He mouth dropped and a confused look came over his face. He looked at the three remaining balls on the table and then at his clothes.

“Surely you want to keep that $ 100?” I asked.

He quickly dressed and lined up a shot. He missed by inches and shook his head in disbelief as I walked around the table.

“Eight ball, this pocket,” I said, pointing to the empty hole. I sank it and placed my stick on the table. He rubbed his hand through his hair. I grabbed the crisp hundred dollar bill off the table and closed it in my fist.

“Thanks for the game. Better be careful where you swim, loverboy. You’re not the only shark in the pool.”

~ Kendra, Chicago