Tails of Slammies: A Bit O Stick

Late one night at Slammies, while I was living in an overcrowded emotional cul de sac, imagine my surprise to find Cathy leaning against the pool table right outside the Men’s Room door. Provocatively rolling the bright white cue ball in her hand, “A bit o stick?” she asks as a sly smile crosses her lips. I remembered that smile. Once upon a time we dated briefly and been lovers. Years before that we had clandestine make out sessions in my car at forest preserves when we both were involved with others. Hours of kissing and petting invested, this face was one I knew well.

Now here we were together, closing time at Slammies. She was the bartender and the dim pool table light was the only illumination left glowing. The front neon beer lights were extinguished. The drinking lamps was no longer lit. Actually for once at closing neither was I, but I had stopped in here at the end of some complicated relations with a complex woman, who had offered up some amazingly straight forward options with simple and clear opportunities and consequences, Was it really time to add complications? But Cathy was a tall blond, no longer the gangly college student I had entwined with in cars, or the newly single mom looking for future commitment. She was a woman now, with womanly desires, and a womanly willingness to take what she wanted.

She was magnificent.

She had already racked up the balls and said, “You break.” Cradling the pool cue in the crook of her arm she slowly began unbuttoning her sheer black blouse. Each undone button revealed the creamy flesh of her enticing breasts. Cleavage gave way to full curved bosom slowly pushing the flimsy blouse aside.

I broke. Not a single ball sunk, she then cleared the table moving like a lioness in her territory with grace and predatory dominance. I watched as each shot gave me a peek at glorious tits. Her nipples hardened, either under my gaze or her enjoyment of wiping the table with me. Table cleared she leaned back against the table and smiled. With her blouse open save for the very bottom button her look asked for something other than a rematch. Rack em up she said, but I had another rack in mind. I moved close and leaned in placing my hands either side of her on the table. Our eyes met and then our lips touched, followed with entwining tongue dancing steps from our long ago’s but unforgotten’s. I felt her hands on my neck as she pulled me deeper into her kiss.

Our breath intermingled, Hands worked on the others clothing. Undoing done buttons. Unbelting buckle. Zipper unzipped Her spandex pants stretched round soft curvy rump and down, down, down long blond legs. The stretchy material needed to be worked over sensible shoes that this woman needed to stand for her daily bread. Sensible shoes were dispatched for this not so sensible moment. Once all below the waist was gone I placed her delicious ass on her shirt tail and finished the business of the last button. She was perfectly perched on the edge of the pool table. My fingers began exploring but she interjected and implored. “Ohh, I’m plenty wet and ready for you now.”

With my trousers dropped around my ankles, and my hands guiding her rump into place I easily slipped in her all the way to my sack and felt her murmur her first of many gentle approvals. As her body cradled me we began a slow gentle rocking. We hit a slow sassy rhythm.

Not to fast.

Not to slow.

Just.right.

Another minor murmur from both Cathy's body and her throat.

She was never a screamer. We were never a filthy talking couple while fucking. We were a rhythm section. Perfectly synchronized, Fucking until the break, catching the bridge, and then back to our slow sensuous love making.

This was the tenderous fuck ever on a bar room pool table. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the pinball machine smirking at me. I might even have heard a distant harumph from the mens room.

But with each full measured stroke in and out of sweet Cathy's body I was bathed in her murmuring orgasms, coming closer and closer together making me ready to cum.

Cathy knew. She laid back on the green felt, her full breasts spread to the sides and we watched each other intensely eye to eye as the deep stroke fucking continued. She put her hands on her tits, pushed them tight for a cleavage encore, and played her nipples for me. My hands multitasked and both balanced her tush and explored the wet flagrant folds that cradled me. Murmuring a bit louder but still the young demur dish from years before I came in her with gushes. The room filled with the smell of our sex and I just held her and marveled Cathy as she glistened under the pool table light, all blond hair, black blouse, and ivory flesh displayed on the green velvet slate.

My hands could resist no more as I ran my hands over the soft flesh of her alabaster belly, and my thumb and forefinger found the curvey heft of her under boob. My hands relished the bountiful globes and I caressed her until my hands took her hands and together we worked the hardened distended nipples.

Cathy sighed a sweet sigh and I felt her body murmur approval.

Our bodies flowed together like a metronome set to languid. The sight of her bounty and the feel of her flesh kept me resolved and firm within her quivering quim. I quickened imperceptibly and Cathy matched my cadence as together we cantered into a full fiery cumfest redux with my cock spurting, twitching, pumping, and murmuring molten lava deep into Cathy’s hot streaming snatch.

In a few hours I had to be back in an office with all it’s deadlines, intrigues, and the tempest I had been assisting in creating. But right now I just let Cathy’s murmurs wash over me and calm the moment of our last union.