Game On! - Bedroom Fantasies #57

I first met him at a house party for a (loosely defined) friend. It was that classic cliché, locking eyes from across the room. The cold beer turned warm in my hand.

Somehow, in only 10 minutes, we had both found a small space in the kitchen to talk. I don't remember much of course. I heard nothing he was saying, despite his deep and warm voice. I found he was too much to take in all at once. A few inches taller with thick dark hair, short at the back but with a soft wave that swept across his eyes, hands that gripped his G&T can with long slender fingers. I instantly pictured them…elsewhere. 

We both stopped the conversation and turned to the hostess, her eyes glaring at the two of us talking. It was clear – we were off limits to each other. He gave a sheepish grin and looked apologetic before he slipped into the crowd. I was in a foul mood for the rest of the party.

As to be expected, the hostess wasn’t exactly thrilled when she heard I had invited him out for a drink and a game of pool a week later. She should have been more annoyed at how quickly he replied yes. 

It took all afternoon to pick what to wear, basically something that was comfortable, but easily removable. No one was stopping what I wanted to do this time with a disapproving look.

The bar was quiet for a Thursday night, the small back room holding a few tables and chairs surrounding a pool table. A jukebox sat in the corner, playing soft eighties rock. My phone flashed on the pool table’s edge – he had arrived. He offered the first round, so I gave him my drink order and waited. 

Five minutes later, he appeared around the corner, two pints in hand. My stomach instantly heated – he wore ripped jeans and a long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows. His toned muscles were enough, but his grin as he beheld the skin-hugging dress I settled on nearly set me alight.

"It’s good to see you without forty people talking over us." He took a sip, standing at the end of the pool table with me. He looked slightly different from the party, the hair was a bit shorter, and he had classic five o’clock stubble across his jaw. It took strength not to reach and touch it.

The soft music confirmed just how quiet it was in the pool room, not a soul except us. I smiled back, but gave a lighthearted shrug. "I think it’s just nice to have a conversation without it being chaperoned."

His laugh speared through me, and I swallowed to hide how it hit my ears like music. Needing to do something but stand there, I fished out a two dollar coin, and tilted my head to the pool table.

"Fancy a game? I can be lethal with a cue in my hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "How about a bet? We’ll discuss what exactly later, but I think two dollars is worth seeing what you can do with those hands."

I dropped and shoved the coin in the slot before he could see me blush. I heard him step behind me to grab the cues of the wall opposite, but I knew he only went that way to get a better look of my arse in the dress. I hope he enjoyed what he saw. He did, because I heard the cues clatter in his hands as he clumsily removed them from the rack. 

I straightened up as he handed me the cue. The balls tumbled loudly into the compartment underneath and it was his turn to bend down and scoop them up. I fished the triangle from the lamp overhead and placed it on the felt. 

I continued drinking my pint, watching him drop the balls inside the triangle, eyebrows knitted as he settled them in order, seeing his fingers gently caress over the balls, turning them upright. A small cough startled me. 

He was smiling, cue in hand, head tilted to the side. I was instantly blushing, embarrassed to be caught staring. I cleared my throat and ran fingers through my wavy hair. He walked around the table, gesturing to the head of it. "The pleasure of breaking is yours."

Instantly I flushed hot, but kept it cool as I nodded and stood at the head of the table. As subtly as I could, I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress and set up the cue. He had expertly laid the balls and now I was a little worried about the bet.

I leaned down, cue extended across the felt, bending lower until my tits pressed against the table. I wouldn’t normally bend so low, but the curve of my ass was in full form and I wasn’t going to let him miss it. I swear I heard a sharp little exhale of breath before he hurried to the other end of the table. A small smile appeared on my lips and I took my shot. 

The white struck with a crack and the balls scattered across the green felt. A red sunk at the pocket closest to him. He raised his eyes at me, giving an approving nod. "Lucky break." I raised my eyebrow, giving a shrug as I took a sip of beer. "Let’s see how far luck can carry me. Your shot."

He gave a teasing grin and walked round the table, fingers gliding along the edge as he studied the layout. Every time he passed me I tensed, not even breathing to keep that rising heat from melting me. He smelled so good though, manly, with just a hint of citrus from whatever shampoo he used. 

The white was hit again, the balls bouncing off the edges. He sank a yellow with ease, with another at the opposite pocket, an easy shot. I swallowed as he flicked me a competitive look. A third sunk violently with a hard hit of the cue. My hands were sweaty again at his grunt and his exhale of breath when he straightened up. 

The game was on. When he sunk one, I sunk two. When I missed an easy shot, he teased me and gave me a cheeky pinch of my arm. When he sunk the white, I leaned over across the table and poked my tongue out. 

He stared, but didn’t seem annoyed. Instead, the look in his eyes changed from playful to hunger as they flicked from my eyes to my tongue and back. I had started something, it seemed. I slid back down and retrieved the white ball. When I stood, he had made his way to my end of the table. 

It was silence as he stood close, eyes roaming all over me. I kept my ground, hand gripping the white ball tight. 

Not yet, I said with my eyes, we can play a little longer. I brushed past him to set up my shot and his hand went out to lean against the table. But he missed and instead brushed my waist and across the fabric. He tensed and so did I, knowing he had to have realised what was missing under my dress.

I kept my eyes locked to his, thrilled at how his chest was rising more; he was breathing heavier now, and the tips of his ears were pink. I leaned down over the table, hitching my ass up and knocked the white, sinking my red. He swallowed, and placed his hands on the wood, drumming his fingers in an attempt to cool himself down. I tossed back my hair and grinned.

"So," he drawled, trying to be casual, "about this bet."

I sunk another red, and straightened, head tilted and pretending to be confused. My best deer-in-the-headlight look. "Oh?"

His lips tightened. "The game is fairly even now. Two left each. I’m happy to raise the stakes."

I walked around the table, eyes focused on the set-up. Spotting a shot, I leaned over and sunk my second-last red with ease. He continued. 

"You’re one down, but that’s a tough shot. So, if you sink the black, I am happy to shoot another round."

I leaned across, eyes focused on my last ball.

"And if I sink the black, I fuck you where you stand."

His words hit right between my thighs, and I shanked my shot horribly. The cue skidded off the side of the white and it rolled right for his remaining two. Incredibly pissed, but horribly turned on, I straightened and hated how much he enjoyed it. His eyes sparkled and he picked up his cue.

"Raising the stakes indeed." I kept my voice even, trying to stand comfortably while tensing my thighs. "Seems a tad in your favour. What if I’m just happy for a drink?"

He sunk his second-last yellow. The saliva was collecting in my mouth. It was nothing compared to how wet I had become down there. All I could do was watch him, stalking around the table with such an intensity, knowing if he sunk it the possibility of fucking me on the table was there. I was into the idea as well, but I was keen not to lose a bet, no matter if his winning was also in my best interests as well.

His last yellow tumbled into the pocket.

I held my breath as he bent to sink the black – and missed. The tension in the room doubled as he swore under his breath and straightened. In his eyes was pure lust and he watched me stride around the table, setting up my cue. 

My last red spun into the pocket just under his drumming fingers. He gave me a look that he’d take me there, bet or not. But I had other ideas.

I stared at him, and placed my pool cue on the table. Confusion flashed across his face, but he kept watching. I made my way to the bathroom on the other side of the room, unisex, with a sink, then a stall with a locked door. With his eyes undoubtedly on my ass, I paused and turned my head back to him, and bit my lip. I entered the bathroom and closed the door.

Within seconds I heard his cue clatter on the table. He threw the door open, and his eyes widened as he beheld me sitting on the vanity, legs crossed and tits pushed out. He swallowed and closed the door behind him, locking it. 

He lunged straight for me, one hand on my hips, the other across my jaw and throat. Lips to my neck, he nibbled and kissed. A soft moan escaped me and I’m sure I had already left a wet patch on my dress. 

His stubble scratched me, and it was only pleasurable. I wrapped my legs around him and drew him closer, hand through his thick black hair. He was sick of my neck and leant back to take in my flushed and panting face. 

Grinning, he lifted his head and stopped just over my lips, teasing. I fisted his hair and brought him closer, sealing him. It was frenzied, passionate, and about to be caught at any moment. 

"I wanted to take you on that kitchen counter, right when I first saw you, but this will have to do," he whispered in my ear when we broke for air. I laughed, warming his neck. "I hope that little game warmed you up."

His hand was lazily caressing my thigh, slowly making its way up. My dress was gathered, nothing between me and his jeans. I brought him closer, and I felt him harden when his fingers confirmed what he suspected. 

"I knew, but fuck," he gasped into my neck, "I knew you were fucking wearing nothing-"

His fingers circled my soaked clit, rubbing and pinching. Our lips found each other again, and our tongues finally met. His other hand had dropped to my tit, and through the soft fabric of my bra he squeezed my hard nipple. I jerked at the combined sensations and was just melting into him. 

I was building and building and would soon burst, but I wasn’t going to go out without getting my hands dirty. I fumbled my way to the front of his jeans, rubbing against the hard bulge. He swore into my neck and his fingers had halted around the entrance of me for a moment. As I opened his buttons and reached into his boxers, he plunged his finger into me, just filling me to start pushing slightly in and out.

"Jesus Christ," I moaned, shifting further to the edge of the vanity, wanting him deeper in me, wanting more in me. He added a finger gently, then turned them up and moved them like he was beckoning me. I wrapped my hands around his cock, unbelievably hot and hard, and swirled my finger in the pre-cum that had oozed out of his tip. I felt him shudder, and the moan he uttered in my ear rose goosebumps on my skin. I quickly spat into my hand and started working his cock. Up and down I stroked, soon leaving one hand to it while I moved the other to his balls, squeezing him gently and rubbing my thumb in between.

He pulled his fingers out, and raised to place them in my mouth gently. I sucked, holding eye contact while he shifted my ass up toward him, pulling my dress further up. My hands dropped to wrap around him, and I felt him swear as he guided the tip of his cock to me. I was still wet, and so warmed up that he had no issues entering me. He braced himself on the vanity, and nipped my ear with his teeth lightly, slowly pushing himself in until he hit the peak of me. Then, he pulsed, in and out, fast then slow. My legs tightened around him, nails digging into his back. His grunts and moans were music, and every time it nearly sent me to orgasm. I lost track of how long we were in the stall, but I didn’t care if half the bar was waiting for us to come out.

He pounded again, in an intense rhythm of hard, then soft, hard and soft. He pulled out slightly and shoved his free hand between us to rub at my clit as he fucked me. I had been on borrowed time, and grabbed a fist full of hair and I finally came, the sensation vibrating through my body and I shuddered, eyes closed. Collapsing in his arms, I kissed him, and with a nod he continued. I nipped his ear this time, reaching down and rubbing his balls as he fucked until he was close, then in one swift movement he pulled out, rubbing his cock until he came over my thighs.

There was a knock on the door. “Are you done yet?”

We were breathless and smiling as we exchanged soft kisses.

Submitted by M. from St. Kilda, Victoria, Australia

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