9 Ball, Corner Pocket


Hello everyone! I just wanted to include a little blip before the story actually starts. This is one of the scenarios that comes to my mind often when I am daydreaming/fantasying. I am an avid pool player and usually play at least a few games every night. It will probably not have a follow up piece with it and will be focused mostly on the sex with a fair amount of buildup. If you guys have read my other story, you will know that I have left it unfinished. I am trying to work on an epilogue for it. After many attempts of trying to continue the story in every direction feasible, I have remained completely unsatisfied with the story. I admit whole-heartedly to not being the best grammatical writer. That being said, I did try to catch all mistakes. Hope you enjoy 🙂


I’ve been going to the same bar, the Junction, for about five years now. However, it has only been about a year since I picked up a new passion. Well, maybe two new passions. The first being pool and the second being the show of being a woman playing pool. I don’t really have exhibition tendencies, except when it comes to pool. I can’t explain it, but I get some form of high knowing that I am putting my body on display while showing off my talent of playing pool. Because of this, I definitely dress nicely when I know for sure the nights are going to be busy. Usually, a cut-to-impress dress that shows of my legs and tasteful, but still abundant, cleavage with a nice pair of heels is what I wear.

As usual, I walk in the door and quickly soak up the home-like atmosphere. We have a routine and you are well aware of it. I feel your presence just as much as you feel mine, but we ignore each other for now. I stop and talk to whichever one of the bartenders happens to be working, getting quarters and a double Crown neat in the process. Then I make my way through the crowd to the back of the bar where the pool table is, on my way saying hi to all of the other regulars. Finally, I make it to the chalk board and add my name to the list of players waiting for their turn to play. Naturally, you are running the table. I wait for your next turn to be over until I approach you in a very dramatic fashion. We hug a little too long, then kiss each others’ cheeks. I settle into my typical corner stool and watch you dominate the pool table, destroying anyone who dares to challenge you, all the while stealing long glances with you. We both want each other badly, yet we never seem to do anything about it with the exception of heated eye contact.

After waiting about 45 minutes, it’s finally my turn. As I release the balls to the return and start to rack them up to play 8-ball, you suddenly get a huge grin on your face. I smile from across the table and ask what you are grinning about. You ask me if I want to gamble and I quickly say that I would prefer not to. Every time we play, the same question is asked with the same answer. I know where I am skill-wise. I may be pretty good, definitely the best woman that frequents this place, but I know that you can leave me with every one of my balls on the table if you wished to. You come to the other side of the table, leaning in close enough that I can smell your cologne that makes me wet with the faintest whiff, and whisper that you don’t want to gamble for money. This is different; I am intrigued, so I ask what you had in mind instead. You reply that you want to gamble for complete control of the other for the night. With unnerving confidence, I find you staring me directly in the eye waiting for a serious reply. I don’t have to think, I know my answer and promptly say “Deal”. Either way, whether I win or lose, I will still be the winner.

You tell me right before the break that it will be a race to 3, just to make it fair. A loud crack and we watch the balls scatter over the length of the table. You sink the 15 and the 3. You strategically choose solids. I truly can’t get enough of you playing bornova escort pool. Watching the way you move around the table, angling your shots, and the show of complete confidence turns me on just as much as myself running a whole table while showing off my best assets. After sinking a straight shot, and a three-rail kick, you miss the long bank. Shaking myself mentally, I try to put you out of my mind, but it is truly impossible. I am torn between wanting to win, because I always want to win, and throwing the game to be at your mercy. I expertly judge the table. There are so many options; I could go for the 13, then follow with the 11-10 combo, or I could start with the simple 12 bank and go down the rail for a straight shot on the 14. That is why I love pool so much, there are always different possibilities and almost infinite strategies. I decide the simple bank first because it allows me to show you my cleavage from where you are sitting. I sink the ball easily.

Moving on, I stretch across the length of the table to reach the next shot. I can feel your eyes linger on my ass and legs as I do so. Another ball drops, and I quickly fire in yet another. I am on tonight and I make eye contact with you and saucily wink. Do I detect a little sense of worry? I pocket the next ball with the same grace as the others. In the zone now, I am no longer paying attention to you or our wager. Finally my run ends with just one stripe left on the table. You look slightly relieved and more determined. It’s time for you to play catch up. Making quick work with your cue, you clear the table and win the first of three. The second game goes much like the first except I win after being down throughout the game. The third game is intense. We both seem to only make one ball each turn. I am not sure about you, but I am starting to lose focus on the game and starting to think about how this is going to play out when one of us wins. I get into the groove and make all of my balls except one, leaving the 9-ball at one end of the table. I know this is in a bad position, but I can’t help it. While you are down four balls to my one, you quickly catch up and sink your last ball but accidentally scratch trying to get the leave on the 8-ball that you want.

I check your face to see if you purposefully scratched. Thankfully you didn’t or I would have been annoyed, since I am forced to bank the cue ball back to the nine. It is a tough shot, I call the 3 rail bank with the nine in the right corner pocket. Arching beautifully into position, I take a few moments to concentration, knowing that this will probably decide the game, the race to three, and who wins the wager. My angle is off slightly causing a narrow miss. However, my cue-ball control is spot on to set up the final shot of the game. I leave you with a straight in shot on the 8-ball and it’s game over. You win and I don’t know if I could be happier with the outcome. You give me a look that is pure excitement that sends shivers down my spine. You suggest we head out the back door to have a smoke, one that is not used by anyone but the regulars and even then very rarely. While I do not smoke, I agree, pretending like I really have a choice.

The cool fall air is refreshing on my heated skin. I quickly assume the role of submissive. I stand smiling expectantly and waiting on you to exercise your recently won control. You light your cigarette, take a drag and smile back. You are clearly happy that you won; the smugness is radiating off of you. You ask if I am happy with the outcome. Through my lowered lashes, I answer that I am. Putting out your cigarette, you lean in and kiss me. While this is not our first kiss, the static between our lips sets me edge, wanting more. Just as it seems like you are going to deepen the kiss, you pull away and add a quick peck while laughing at my annoyed expression.

Once we go back inside, we make bornova escort bayan quick work of claiming the pool table and start betting our opponents drinks as a partnered team. After a few more hours of pool, some lingering gazes, and some innocent touches, you finally ask me if I am ready to leave. I nod and say as long as you are. You grab both of our jackets from the coat rack as I return our empty glasses to the bar. We say bye to everyone and walk out to catch a cab. As we climb in the backseat, you whisper all of the dirty things you are going to do to me.

You are telling me how you thought about losing to me on purpose until you realized how well I was playing. You know that I could have actually beaten you tonight if you weren’t careful, so you stepped up and played because you are too competitive to lose without throwing the game. Kissing me fully on the lips and proceed to think aloud some more. You are contemplating having me in the car, but decide that was not enough space for what you want. Then you verbalize the desire for me to suck your hard cock while you drive us home, but also decide against that. You are rubbing my back and slowly you make your way down to my thighs. My floaty dress provides no resistance to your exploring hand. You tease the outside edges of my lips for a minute, then just as I try to readjust to give you plenty of access, you move your hand to my hair. You always have loved my hair. You tangle your fingers deep into my long hair. Massaging my head a little before you give my hair a nice firm tug, you elicit a moan. You laugh a little and do it again, earning a throatier moan.

You take my hand and place it on your hard cock. I start to massage you a little through your jeans. You stop me so that you can unzip your pants and pulling your throbbing member out. As soon as I feel your skin touch my hand, I wrap my hand around your girth and begin stroking you again. I pump up and down a few times. I remove my hand and touch myself to coat it with some juice. I place my now wet hand back on your cock and start stroking you again, rubbing the little bits of precum all over your head and dick. I mix your precum in with my juices and tease you while I can. I know I won’t have many opportunities after we get out of the car to do what I want to you. You moan and start gyrating your hips with my hand movements.

We finally reach your house. I remove my hand so you can put your cock away while I pay the driver. As soon as we get inside, you all but shove my mouth around your dick. I take your entire length down my throat on the first stroke. Coming back to the head, I swirl my tongue around the head and lick the seam all over before starting to take more of your shaft in my mouth. Using my hand, I massage your dick in sync with my mouth, covering you in my spit. I lick up and down the shaft a few more times, then swallow you all the way down my throat again. I truly love giving head, a fact that you thought I lied about. I stroke up and down then make eye contact with you. While maintaining it, I lick the very tip, swirl all over it with my tongue, cherishing the moans you are making. I smile a little at you, then go all the way down again. I start a steady motion and I can feel you tensing. You know you want to come in my mouth, down my throat, into my belly. I can feel you pulsating and your balls are getting heavier. You aren’t going to stop me from making you cum. I change my pace to just a little faster. Your breathing speeds up and the grip on my hair tightens. It is verging on the edge of painful. You can’t hold on any longer, you explode into my mouth just as I pull out enough to not gag on all of your cum. I keep stroking you through your orgasm until you still. After you release my hair, I sit up a little, look up at you and swallow the load you shot into my mouth and smile. You tell me to stop looking so smug and that escort bornova I will be punished for that later. I smile and lift myself to my feet.

You put on some music and I make some drinks for us. We sit there for a little bit just talking about random events and life in general, then you suggest some more pool games. I tease you about having played enough pool earlier, but we both know that I will never turn down a game.

Deciding on a 9-ball race to 7, we lag to decide who breaks. I win the lag and you begin racking the first set. Casually, you add in that we are playing “strip 9-ball”. I ask what that entails, in which you respond that for each game someone loses in the race, an article of clothing must be removed. I shake my head at your addition rules as I prepare to break. The first rack goes quickly in the favor of me. You lose your sweater. Racks two through four, you are the winner. I lose my panties, sweater and shoes.

The games start taking longer as we get more distracted by teasing each other. I bend more than necessary to remind you that I have already lost my panties. You casually reach out an caress my ass while I am about to take my shot. I am not phased, I still make the shot and continue to finish that game. With a refreshed focus, I win the next game too. You are down to your boxers and we are on our last game. The winner of this game leaves one of us naked. We are both on edge; this foreplay has been a little dragged out. I stretch over the length of the table to take a shot and hear a strangled noise from behind me.

I hear you say ‘fuck it’ and quickly feel your hands on my hips. You flip my dress up over my ass and drag the head of your cock over the lips of my waiting pussy, eliciting a moan from me. I put my cue down and place my hands on the table. Looking over my shoulder I ask you what you waiting for and tell you to put your cock inside me. Slowly you slide your cock deep inside me, letting me adjust to the thickness of your hard cock. You pull your hips slowly away, easing your cock out of my wet pussy. I protest the emptiness and you laugh at my huffing, telling me to be patient. You tease my opening with the head of your cock and make me squirm trying to get you back inside me. You suddenly push your cock all the way into me and make me groan with pleasure. You slap my ass hard as you bottom out into my wet pussy over and over again. I can feel an orgasm deep in my core. I tell you that I am getting close to cumming and plead with you to fuck me hard. You frustrate me by stopping and pulling out instead. I almost scream at you but you tell me that you want to see my face when you make me cum around your hard cock.

You stand me up and flip me around. You lift the hem of my dress over my head and quickly rid me of my bra. You cup my breasts, testing the weight of each of them in your hands, slowly massaging them. Once my sensitive nipples pucker under your attention, you begin to lavish them with your tongue. Licking and nibbling on my large breasts, you make me even more wet. Finally you decide you are ready to fuck me again. You pull my legs up to your waist and hook them over your strong arms. Slowly you enter my soaked hole, sliding with no resistance. We both sigh like someone who just sat down after a long day. Your cock feels so right inside me, like puzzle pieces being fit together. You start to pick up speed, pumping deep to meet my thrusts. I feel the building again. I am going to cum so hard all over your cock. You drop one of my legs to reach between us and play with my clit. Two flicks is all it takes to make me explode. I scream in pleasure as I gush all over your cock. My climax sets you off and I feel your cock pulse inside of my spasming pussy, dumbing your load deep inside me. Both of us are out of breathe and in shock, just staring at each other. You let go of my other leg and we both groan at the change of position and sensitivity of just climaxing. Finally you pull out of me and lean forward to kiss me and lift me off the table. We both look at the table, relieved to see nothing got on the cloth. What can we say, we are both freaks about pool tables. And after tonight, I will always look at a pool table and think of you.

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