The Pool Table

My first year of college I fell in love with a girl who's parents had a pool table. Every few weeks we'd drive up to their place to do laundry and passed the time playing pool. If her parents knew about us, they didn't let on, and basically left us alone. On one of our visits they went out to dinner, and we stood in the basement with our pile of clothes, already mixed together from the nights we'd spent at the other's place.

"I thought they'd never leave," Sara said as she lit a cigarette and opened the beer. I smirked and flipped the tape in the boom box. We were listening to the first Pretenders album and every time my turn came up Sara distracted me by biting my neck or pinching my nipple. "Sorry. Oh, did you mess up?" she'd whisper, "Chrissie makes me so-o-o horny." It was driving me crazy. Every time I tried to kiss her, she'd tell me to play my turn, but when my turn was up, she'd grin and ace hers.

The delicious torture was working, and I gave up. Her parents had already been gone fifteen minutes and the beer and our start-and-stop make out sessions were wearing on me. I stared at her. "What?"

I took her cigarette and stubbed it out on the floor. Then I took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. We didn't stop - she knew what I needed. Her hands dug in the back pockets of my jeans and cupped my ass, making the seam rub against my clit. I groaned as she pulled away and pushed herself up onto the pool table. I kept kissing her, and unbuttoned her shirt, feeling my heart beat faster. I unclasped her bra and sucked on a nipple - moaning at her enjoyment.

I breathed in her scent, and forgot we were in her parent's basement, in our winter layers. Something took over: I had to have her. Sara must have seen it in my eyes and swallowed.

"Uh oh." I bit my lip, ignoring her mock terror and reached for her belt, pushing her back on the green felt. "Baby," her voice was raspy, I could hear how much she wanted me. "Baby, should we do it...here?" I pulled her up again, kissed her as delicately as I could then looked in her eyes. I'd wanted her all day, wanted to touch her incredible wetness and get lost in her folds.

When we kissed, she whimpered, it was the softest thing that had ever escaped her lips. It made my pupils dilate, and I knew I couldn't stop. I had the buttons open and started tugging her jeans and thermals over her hips. Sara lifted off the pool table and never broke our eye contact.

I pushed her thighs apart, loving her smell. She gasped when I bit the inside of her thigh and trailed my tongue over her lips to the other leg. Sara's stomach was heaving and her fingers dug into my sweater. I could tell from her smell and the way that she whispered my name that she needed it. I smoothed her hip with my thumb and with my other hand spread her open.

The sounds Sara was making were almost as good as feeling her skin next to mine. I put my thumb on her clit and pressed down, she was dripping wet and I started a slow, steady rhythm that made her gasp. When I finally allowed myself a taste, her hips bucked up off the table, and I had to lean down on them.

She was yelling and I was sure her parent's suburban neighbors could hear us in the freezing November night. I slid two hungry fingers in and licked and sucked at her with the slowest rhythm I could. I wanted to make this last, my girl was so delicious. I let Sara's body tell me, harder, faster, now, wait, wait, NOW. I eased the pressure off her hips when came and let her body tell me what to do from there.

"Oh." Sara's stomach clenched one last time, and she pushed my hands away. "God, I have never been fucked like that." I pulled her into my arms and kissed her cheek, trembling until her breathing slowed to normal. She kept whispering into my hair, and mentioned something about my turn.

I grinned, but walked over to the dryer to switch the load. Then Sara started laughing. "Oh wow that was so hot, but honey that pool table's bad news I think I have felt burn."

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