They walked hand in hand into the empty bar. Black Betty blared from corner speakers and he nodded familiarly to the lone barman who cleaned glasses behind a mahogany counter. The black box which housed the man’s pool cue was under his arm and while she wandered off to select a table, he paid the deposit for the white ball and bought a round of beers.
The R2 coin released the balls and as she began to rack them, he leant over her and whispered in her ear. “I’ll break. You got to the ladies and take your panties off. Bring them back to me.” She felt a hot, sweet tightening and looked up at him with through lowered lashes. She lifted the plastic triangle and put it back on its hook and walked across the bar towards the toilets.
She could feel his eyes on her; feel him watching her as her hips swayed across the room. Behind the closed door, she hiked up her skirt and slowly slipped the white cotton down her legs, stepping out of them and bunching them into her fist. Back at the table, she passed them to him. He smiled and slipped them into his pocket. He lined the cue up to the ball and broke with a savage shot.
“Stripes,” he said.
She took the cue from him. Scanned the table and chose her shot. “Blue, corner pocket.” As she lent over the table, he put both hands on her ass and moved her forcefully an inch to the left. His hands lingered slightly longer than necessary, his baby finger stroking softly. Surprised, she looked over her shoulder, “You wouldn’t have made the cut,” he said, his voice suddenly deeper.
The game unfolded. She was no match for him, but she knew he was distracted by the slip of white in the pocket of his jeans and she took advantage where she could. With two balls each on the green felt, the barman called closing. The man walked over to the bar, said something to the barman and clapped him on the shoulder. The barman nodded and walked round to lock the front door. “I’ll be in the back, mate, in the Counting House,” he said. “Cash up’s a bitch.”
The man returned to the table and, in the time it took for the barman to turn the lights low and leave the room, had sunk the green striped and the orange, risking and losing the white with the last shot. She took the cue and lined up for a long shot, hitching herself up over the lip of the table. Before she could shoot, she felt him behind her. His hands were on her hips, slowing drawing her skirt up. “Shoot,” he said. Hands starting to tremble, she levered the cue through her fingers and gently tapped the ball, not noticing where it went.
His fingers had found the end of the black mini, and were beginning to slowly stroke the back of her knees and thighs. She put the cue on the table and placed both hands on the green to steady herself. He pulled her hips back slightly and while one hand moved round her right leg to caress the soft flesh there, the other moved to cup her breast.
She gasped and moved hard against him, arching herself back up to feel the length of his body against her. His mouth found the back of her neck and as he traced slow circles round her nipple, he slipped a finger into her and slowly, teasingly, drew it back and forth against her clitoris. She moaned his name and lifted a hand behind her, into his hair, holding his head against her neck. He pushed her gently back down over the table, unzipped his Levi’s and pulled himself free. Holding the curve of her waist, he slowly slid himself into her. Held himself there for a moment in the warm honey of her, before beginning to thrust, moving a hand round to stroke her again. All she could feel was the length of him inside her and a warm, building tension where his fingertips rubbed. She was losing control. His hands were like fire, his cock filling her. The thought of the barman in the other room raising the excitement and forcing her not to cry out.
With her back arched and meeting his thrusts, she gripped the sides of the table and felt the first wave of her orgasm build unbearably. He felt her begin to shake uncontrollably and his control slipped. As he came, he growled a savage moan and lent forward to grip her shoulder, grinding himself into her. Feeling the tight heat of her envelop him in waves. Panting he sunk against her, kissing her shoulder blade through her shirt and breathing her name into her ear, steadying himself on an elbow against the green.
She hid her face from him between her arms. Enflamed and overwhelmed by how hard and hot the moment had been, how much she had desired him. Then turned her head back to kiss him, smiled and in a low, husky voice whispered; “Happy Anniversary baby. You’ve better give me back my panties. We should probably home and pay the baby sitter.”