*CRACK*

The cue ball strikes the one ball a few millimeters left of center, scattering the tightly-packed triangle of colored spheres in all directions. Alicia’s clipped-up strawberry-blonde bobbed hair, as well as the C-cup breasts cradled in her low-cut, cap-sleeved top, bounce in sync with the two slight hops of the cue ball. Her follow-through has the tip of the cue hovering above the center of the table as the cue ball drifts leftward, until its trajectory is wiped out by the eleven ball on its way to the headrail.

I am impressed, but shouldn’t be surprised, considering the way she lined up her cue after chalking the tip. Resting it in the groove between her thumb and the first knuckle, her fingertips pressed steadily into the felt surface; she drew it back smoothly, then pushed forward, once, twice, thrice, remarkably straight and level, head down, eyes focused. After a slight backward crouch, she straightened quickly, weight forward, popping up onto the balls of her feet in sync with a rapid forward stroke of the cue. It would have been violent if not so damn smooth, the tip driving the cue ball forward as a white blur.

When the balls settle, they are distributed fairly evenly, without any annoying clusters to break up. When she said she had played before, I had no idea she could handle a cue like that. If her break is such fire, how is the rest of her game?

"Wow, that was... hot," is the best compliment I can come up with.

"Yeah?" She smirks, no doubt guessing that I have made some faulty assumptions about ‘how a girl would play’.

"Yeah." I run my hands over her hips and around her waist. We have hugged, platonically at first during our few months of friendship, but noticeably more provocatively in recent weeks. As Winter turned to Spring and Spring to Summer, Alicia’s necklines have gotten lower and her hemlines have gotten higher, teasing me into finding an opportunity to get to know her better than just as casual friends. When I learned that she enjoyed shooting pool, that was the “in” I was looking for, finally inviting her over, under the guise of sharing in our mutual recreational interest.

Another keen interest of ours is evidently exploring each other’s bodies, as evidenced by her knowing smile and the hands that are sliding up my chest and around my neck. I lower my lips to hers for the first time ever. She doesn’t resist.

There is nothing tentative about our kiss. My confidence is rewarded by her lips’ accepting caresses, the soft grabbing of her fingers, and the weight of her body leaning into me. We open our mouths in mere moments, tongues darting at first and then probing and swirling heavily.

Hands slide up, then down, more than once, but at some point, refuse to go back up again, deciding instead to go at each other’s zippers. Albeit much sooner than I would have thought, it feels like a natural move, considering the flirty banter we’ve shared recently. We agree, silently, telepathically even, that the right thing to do in this moment is just to go with our primal lust and strip each other without any ceremony about it.

Alicia’s little pale yellow panties hit the floor seconds after her little white short-shorts. She has seemed comfortable enough with me, or more likely uninhibited in general, to have spilled a few provocative details concerning her sexual activity, information we surface now to hastily confirm her birth control usage. I am mesmerized by the cleavage pressed against my chest, but maybe more so by the firm, smooth bare skin of her hips and ass that I’m caressing. Her small hand is doing its own caressing inside my open shorts, assisting my dick to swell into a raging boner, a development that no doubt started with her arousing break. Between aggressive kisses, my eyes scan down to her crotch. My fingers are alternately swiping through her moist slit and tugging at the edges of her pubic hair, which is trimmed into a wedge that fits nicely within the borders of subtle bikini tan lines.

How perfect is this? We don’t even have to bother with awkward shoes and socks, since we have been barefoot since we were downstairs – I typically go barefoot at home, especially in the summer upstairs in the warmer part of the house. She joked about making that a good ‘rule’ to follow, kicking off her slip-on flats before we poured two large glasses of iced tea and trudged up to the second floor.

I kick away my shorts and boxers after she shoves them down, and when I back her ass into the table, she lifts a leg around me, which I hold in place while she grabs my cock. Guiding it to her eager hole, she leans back while I push forward, taking me deep with a sigh and a smile.

We fuck with her perched on the edge of the table for maybe two minutes. After getting comfortable as we watch the penetration, we get into it more, my cock buried balls-deep with her arms and legs wrapped around me. She claws at my shirt to remove it while my hand snakes up the inside of her snug top to handle her pale yellow bra. The top piece of her matching set, the bra’s thin, lacy material is more form than function, allowing her titties plenty of jiggle-room and pairing well with the low neckline of her top, which is now fluttering to the floor.

I pick her up, with her still impaled, and spin halfway around, crushing her back against the wall. Our frisky motions dislodge a bra strap from her shoulder, and I impress myself by peeling it down with my teeth to tuck the cup under her bouncing breast. We grunt, first from the pleasure, but after another two minutes from the exertion of me holding her up as she hangs on to me. We part, smile, kiss, and manually stimulate each other, before I spin her toward the window and onto one of the two chairs. When she plants a foot on the armrest, looking out over the next two neighbors’ backyards, she is ready to get taken from behind. I’m going to fill that need, quite literally, but not before unclasping her bra so that it can fall away to release both of her tits.

“Good to know you want this, too,” I tell her, caressing her shoulder as I grind my erection on her butt cheek. “I sure have. More and more.”

“I know,” is her snarky reply. “I can read signals.”

Holding her hip with one hand and angling my dick with the other, I slowly (at first) skewer her pussy with the entire length until the sensation is too much to resist increasing the pace. Her hands are on the wall and windowsill, giving her the stability she needs to thrust her ass back into me, and soon I am holding her hair with one hand, the other wrapped around to grasp a full, bouncing tit.

When she lowers her foot, I spin her again so that she faces the table. Hands on the foot rail, she sets her feet apart shoulder-width and takes me deep once again with a moan and a head-toss. She is bent over, elbows and forearms on the table after a minute of frisky humping, and I swear she is purposefully rubbing her nipples on the felt cushion. She seems careful to position her arms so as not to disturb any of the balls.

I am about to cum, but want our first fuck to last a bit more, so I reluctantly pull out. We pant and smile at each other before our mouths come together again. When my hands grip her smooth ass, she hops and closes her legs around me as I hold her again. There is a moment of awkward adjusting before I feel her wet warmth slide down over my cock again.

“Uhhh, fuck, that’s good!” Alicia groans.

Plonking her ass on the table again, I fuck her with long, deep, smooth strokes. She carefully leans back, bracing herself with one hand on the side rail. Since we have been friends for a while, I have to admit I’ve fantasized about those perky tits from time to time. Here is the chance to get some, the chance I have been looking forward to, so of course, I have to try to get the best handfuls and mouthfuls that I can.

“Mmm, Llyymmm,” I moan, pulling a stiff nipple between my lips and tongue.

“Ooo,” she sighs. “I figured you liked my boobs. You stare at them enough.”

I release the teat with a pop. “What? I don’t stare.” I suck the other one, without staring.

“Yes, you stare.” She giggles. “One of those signals I could read.”

After wetting those areolae and perky nipples with my saliva again, I admire the fullness of her wobbling titties, making sure to draw back and thrust forward with my hips to keep our penetration active. “Fuck, yeah, well, I’m staring now!” Subsequent squeezes and pinches of those fabulous titties and their erect nipples make her giggle some more.

Good thing my pool table’s cabinet is solid cherry wood and carries one-inch slate. Its sturdiness only allows a slight wobbling of the scattered balls as I lean into her, up on my toes, to drive hard and deep into my grunting new lover, whose heels are banging into my ass to encourage the force of my accelerating thrusts. We are both getting a bit sweaty, and it gets me even more aroused to taste the saltiness and stickiness of her titties. I can’t help but give her neck and shoulders a few licks and sucks as well.

The sweatiness of her torso isn’t the only thing wet about our frisky fuck. Her mouth noisily slurps at my ear, dousing the inside and outside with her slick saliva. Her tongue darts and wiggles, and her plump lips pull and suck at my lobe. And then there are the juicy squishing sounds produced by her well-lubricated vaginal tunnel sheathing and unsheathing the shaft of my invading cock.

Alicia’s hips and abdomen roll enthusiastically, undulating as she deliberately grinds her pussy up and down my probing prick, her clenching vaginal muscles providing a snug, warm, slick, pulsing sleeve for the length of my shaft. Since her hands are still planted on the table behind and beside her, my thumb has to be the one that unhoods and polishes her inflamed and rigid little clit.

“Oh, fuck, Alicia, your pussy’s so good!” I mean every huffing, sputtering word.

“Mmm, she fucking loves your dick,” comes her squealed reply, gasping and thrusting forward to fuck my cock and thumb.

That constant squelching evidently gives me the presence of mind to think about the fact that I don’t want my pool table’s felt soiled by sweat or my cum or her pussy juices. Fortunately, I have two stools against the wall in the game room, and this is my first opportunity to confirm what I admit I’ve wondered about before; yes, they are the perfect fuck height! Clenching around her middle, I lift Alicia and carry her to perch her ass on a stool. With her legs draped over my forearms, I admire that trimmed, light-colored pussy hair as my glistening cock rams in and out of the hot, juicy treasure within.

One of our cues fell to the floor in our earlier haste, but the other is still propped against the wall, just within reach. The look of ecstasy on her face as she settles the rubber butt end of the cue into her bush puts me over the edge, my ball sac tightening up against the root of my cock, ready to blow. She is jilling her clit with my cue as I lose it, grunting and gasping, my throbbing cock spasming and releasing a load of semen in a flurry of satisfying spurts. I keep jabbing into her, emptying everything I have deep inside her shuddering body while she evidently climaxes, my pool cue providing the perfect toy for the clitoral stimulation needed for her orgasm.

The cue clatters to the floor after Alicia stops trembling. I slowly withdraw my spent cock, watching her heaving breasts for a few breaths before my eyes travel downward to enjoy the sight of her slightly gaping vagina releasing a large dollop of thick, pearly cum, which pools on the seat of the stool. A smear of thick, slightly frothy cream is clinging to my dick shaft until I wipe it on her thigh.

“I wanted you to finish me off on the table,” she says, looking down at the mess. “But, good thing we didn’t, huh?”

“Yeah, well, I think you finished yourself off.” I pick the discarded cue up off the floor, inspecting the butt end that’s wet with her juices.

“Yeah, sorry, grabbed the nearest thing for a little help. Not as good as my wand, to be honest, but it worked in a pinch!”

She picks up her hair clip, which evidently popped off her head while I was nailing her into some piece of furniture. Minor casualty.

Bracing herself against the table, on shaky legs, she looks over the pattern of the scattered balls. Fourteen of them. I nestle behind her, looking over her shoulder, cupping a tit, and wiping my wilting, oozing pecker onto a firm ass cheek. “Nice break.”

We both are counting to see which two balls were missing. "Hmm, sunk the two and the twelve," she said. "Table's still open."

Thankfully, I thought to bring a kitchen towel up to place under our iced tea glasses earlier so they wouldn’t sweat on the furniture. Setting the glasses on the carpeted floor now, I wipe my dick and balls with the towel and hand it to her. “Don’t touch my table and cues with that nasty stuff on your hands,” I joked.

"Your fault."

“Sorry, no. You started it. That break was the best foreplay I’ve ever experienced.” And I can tell it wasn’t a fluke. Alicia bends over, bare ass jutting out totally unnecessarily as she lines up the four ball with the corner, which is a pretty obvious next shot. If she puts just enough draw on the cue ball, she’ll have a clear shot for the seven in the side pocket next, and by the way her eyes scan the other end of the table, she surely calculates that a thin enough cut would position the cue ball in a good spot to sink the one and five right after that.

Instead of using the towel between her legs, she wipes up a double fingerful of cum that’s dripping down the inside of her thigh. “Tell you what. Best of five?” She inserts the slimy fingers deep into her mouth, pulling them out clean. “Loser has to go down on the winner?”

“Deal!” I don’t know whether I want to win or lose at this point. I have too much respect for her skill to throw the game on purpose, but I doubt that’s even an option. She sinks that four-ball without having made a move to retrieve her clothes, so apparently, I’m going to endure Alicia’s naked body as an added distraction. That’s okay – I’m up for the challenge.