Sex in the Pool Room E-Book

Mayron Reid

• Herausgeber: Taboo Pulp Press
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

He paused and kissed her tenderly on the nose.
"Their kind of sex is wrong. You don't have to force sex on anyone. You don't have to swap mates to enjoy sex -if you use your imagination."
He kissed her eyes, tasting the salty tears.
"Now, we can have a good life together having sex any way we please. We can dress up like different people. I can wear a fake moustache and beard. You can doll up like a floozy or a nun. We can rape each other. We can use phony accents and play games like we're other people. We can do anything we want to ourselves. We don't have to go looking for sex. We're filled with sex. At least we both learned that from those perverts across the street."
He kissed her cheeks and smoothed her hair.
"Madge, I don't want to live a reckless life with other women, I don't want to watch another man make love to you. I don't want to screw another woman just for kicks. I want you. I want us."

Leseprobe

Sex in the Pool Room

Mayron Reid

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

John Hallman rubbed the chalk against his cuetip and eyed the pool table. It was going to be a good night.

"You shooting for the new couple across the street?" Beth Hallman glanced leisurely at her naked husband as he prepared the cue for a shot.

"I think they're a good target," he said, leaning over the table and aiming at the cue ball. He slid the ornately carved pool stick expertly through his bridged index finger.

"What makes you think they'll swing?" Beth asked, dipping her fingers into the martini glass to retrieve the green olive with its vulgar red pimento innards dangling from it like an extended clitoris.

"Did you ever meet a woman I couldn't get to swing, or a man you couldn't turn on with a swish of your naked ass?"

"We are beautiful, aren't we," Beth said spreading her naked legs and rubbing her V tenderly as she sipped the martini.

"Beautifully ugly."

Beth watched her husband's muscular, hairy body as he stalked the table, brushing pieces of lint from the soft green top. He picked up the triangular rack and shuffled the balls into place, plucking one from here and putting it there, repeating the shift in another spot.

The sounds of the balls clicking together as John fondled them into place excited her. She shut her eyes and let her hand rest on her breast. Moving it in slow, circular motions, she felt the nipple harden like a marble under her palm.

Squeak.

In her mind she could see the balls lined in a V. John was standing at the opposite end of the table, his banana-shaped penis swaying as he crouched for the break shot. His breathing was heavy and a stillness settled over the room.

SMACK-plunk.

"What did you get?"

"Sixty-nine, that's what I shot for."

Beth let a scythelike smile curve across her flushed face. She could feel her skin tingling with excitement at the thought of John's lips nibbling at her vagina.

"Shoot again for afterwards," she cooed, letting her hand massage the inside of her thigh. "Shoot for dog fashion."

She shook her long, auburn hair and listened for the squeak of the cuetip against the chalk. She cringed and shivered as she heard the noise. Her hand began to slide up and down her slit in long, even motions as she waited for the clack of balls to signal John's next shot.

"Dog fashion, coming up." She glanced over and watched her husband aiming down the long, tapered cue. She let her eyes measure his muscular forearms, his tensed biceps, his hairy, defined chest. She let her blue eyes lock on his deep-set brown eyes with their heavy, busy black eyebrows. She noticed his tense, scrunched forehead as he concentrated on the shot. She saw his muscular jaw clamp shut and the single dimple punctuate his concern for making the shot.

SMACK-plunk.

"Dog fashion," he said, straightening and letting the cue rest against his naked side. He turned toward her and she let her gaze drop to his groin to admire his hard, rippling stomach and eight-inch penis which hung invitingly between his hairy, thick legs.

"I don't know why you want other women when I'm all you can take care of," she said softly, letting her tongue flick out against her lips.

"Maybe because I know you like the men I bring along with the women," he said, putting the cue back in the rack.

"Bring me the balls," Beth said huskily as she squirmed on the sofa. "Let me see what I've earned tonight."

She watched John's graceful, masculine motions as he gathered the two balls he had sunk and moved toward her with one in each hand. She felt the couch sagging under his weight as he settled beside her, letting his naked thighs rest against her side.

"Regalo, " he said, handing her the two pool balls.

She raised them and turned them until the figures were visible. The ivory-colored ball in her left hand was painted with two figures going down on each other. She focused on the artwork. It was perfection and had cost John a fortune to have painted by Mashimoto, one of Japan's most well-known silk-screen artists. The figures were so lifelike they sent chills up her spine just looking at them. She could see the man's mouth locked on the woman's vagina, and see his penis being sucked deeply into her mouth. It were as if the balls were small worlds, containing only those two persons in their erotic wonderland. Beth squeezed the ball and shut her eyes, imagining what it would be like in just a moment when John was down on her, licking and lapping and sucking at her as no other man had ever been able to do.

Resting the one ball on her stomach, Beth studied the other from a distance. The detailed painting depicted a woman, on her hands and knees like a dog, with a man positioned behind her, thrusting his penis deeply into her. The woman was looking back over her shoulder, a mask of apprehensive joy on her face. Just looking at the picture made Beth quiver. For a moment, she forgot about her husband's nearness, about the desire she had to satisfy him. All she could think of were the other eighteen balls and their respective drawings. Each one meant something special to her, for she had performed the eighteen different sexual acts over and over again - whenever John felt like it. And she had always helped him to get the other couples down here, talking them into a game - an innocent pool game that ended up with the guests as the eight ball.

"Ummm." Beth felt John's tongue as it licked up the slender curve of her neck. His tongue was smooth, practiced, urgent.

"Ummmm," she replied, setting the balls carefully on the floor and snaking her arms around her husband's neck. "Why do you turn me on so?"

"Because I play pool naked. What else would turn a woman like you on?" He brushed her lips with his chin as she felt his right hand creep up her side and press at the edges of her breast. He never dived into sex like a thirsty maniac; he was perpetually slow, savoring every moment of the foreplay. His hands were commanding as they played up the firm, round underside of her breast. He let his fingers squeeze toward the nipple in smaller and smaller circles until he had the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled the thumb-shaped peak until it was stiff and a deep, dark brown.

"Do you think that young thing across the street has nipples like mine?" Beth's voice was ragged, but she liked nothing more than teasing him when he was getting hot -it made him hotter.

"Nipples. Who has nipples like yours, Beth? Who?" He reached out and caught her nipple in his teeth and shook his head back and forth. He sucked in the distended tip and laved it with his tongue while his hand caressed the fork of her thighs.

"Does she have a nice ass?"

"Nice, innocent, but not like yours, baby." He let his hands slip under her cheeks and pinched the loose flesh. Beth squealed and shoved herself at him.

"Did it look virgin?"

"Her ass?"

"Yes."

"It looked good, Beth. It looked virgin."

"You're rotten," Beth said, scratching his testicles and sucking at his masculine nipple. "You're really rotten."

"No more than my own little bitch," he said, jabbing her in the ass with his thumb until she squealed. She ground on the thumb until he felt it slip up into her.

"What's the prick like?" she grunted, pulling him near her and wiggling her tits into his chest.

"Looks weak. You know. The pasty kind of guys who always screw with their socks on and only come once a week. You won't have any trouble with him, Beth. You never have any trouble. Do you?"

"Only trying to satisfy you," she purred as she felt his teasing thumb slip out of her rectum.

"Did you have anything planned especially for your new targets?" John asked, pushing back a dangling strand of Beth's auburn hair.

"The usual. Maybe the big B. I liked it last time."

"But they didn't stick around to enjoy the payoff," John said, rubbing the cheeks of her ass vigorously. "I spent all that time and energy and they ended up just like a couple of dogs in heat."

"I know," Beth said sadly, heaving her voluptuous chest and feeling her hardened nipples drive into his chest. "I really had hopes for them. They were so cute and young...."

"Tut, tut, don't cry over spilled -"

"Cum?"

"You're getting rotten, wife, really rotten."

"Foul, filthy, shitty, stinky-cunt me," Beth laughed and scissored John's waist with her thighs. "Now, are you game for putting it to our friendly little pair moving in across the street?" she said, grinding her vagina into his groin.

"Have I ever failed to keep our little swap box full of tasty little morsels?" John laughed, slapping her on the buttocks and curling his lips back. "They're yours, honey," he said defiantly. "Take them."

"You lecher," Beth said, playfully swatting at his face. "I bet you'd eat little girls in the park if you thought you could get away with it."

"What makes you think I haven't already?" He glared down at her, cocking one eye, twitching his nostrils.

"Because I haven't been out sucking little boys. Remember we married each other because we were both as corrupt as the other."

John laughed. The worried lines in his forehead smoothed. His hands began to trace the length of Beth's thigh, stopping at her V to tickle the slit until it dripped.

Beth's hands rubbed his hairy legs. She reached down and grabbed his half-stiff cock and began pulling it back and forth until it was completely erect.

"Ummm. I'd like some of that now. Some all of it."

"You'll get it, baby. But after we follow the rules. The balls said sixty-nine and dog fashion."

John leaned back and Beth's legs scissored up around his head. He felt her soft, warm thighs squeezing his temples as he whiffed the pungent, exciting odor of her juicy slit. Rolling over on top of him, she ground her pelvis down, hunching it against his chin until she felt his probing tongue jabbing into her.

She nuzzled into his crotch, running her slender fingers through his crisp, crinkly pubic hairs. Giggling, Beth lifted his balls and dropped them, enjoying the slapping sound they made as they bounced against his ass. She giggled again and grabbed his cock in both hands. Jacking it up and down, she began to hum a rhythmic tune to her beats, matching her tempo to that of John's tongue as it beat in and out of her vagina like a lizard's tongue. Her joyful thrusts became more and more serious as John's tongue lanced in deeply, banging the clitoris, nipping at it, smashing it.

Beth lowered her head over the top of John's stiff cock. She had her jaws wide open and once the head was centered, she clomped down, jabbing at the cock-slit with her small, spear-tipped tongue and sucking wildly. His rod filled her mouth and his balls slapped up under her chin as he humped into her. She could hear him sucking and slurping and blowing at her orifice as she did the same at his. One of her hands slipped through his legs and she began to touch his asshole tenderly with her fingertip. As his tongue jabs became more intense, she pushed her finger into the opening, feeling the tight tissues envelop it, suck at it. They were humping wildly, making loud suckling noises.

Beth tensed as the shudder began to grip her. It was a long, interminable feeling that started at her brain and quaked down through every part of her until it seemed to splash out her vagina to be sucked up by his mouth. It came. The same exciting feeling as always and Beth screamed as she jabbed the finger deeply into his ass.

John's orgasm was nearing too. He thrust wildly at the woman, driving his cock as far into her as he could. She was whimpering, signaling the beginning of her climax.

John squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the new couple across the street. He thought of the wife's beautiful ass, the ass that had commanded his attention from the first moment. Oooh, he thought, as he felt the semen creeping out toward Beth, I can just taste those thighs, smell that pussy, feel that ass. Ummm. He rammed at Beth's mouth, feeling her suck him deep into her. He leaned back, reared his head, and, snorting like a bull, clutched her breasts in his hands and howled. He howled until every ounce of jism spurted into her.

Nibbling at his ear, her body wet with perspiration, Beth began to stroke his thigh and buttocks. She wondered if the man across the street would be as hairy, would be as satisfying. The last one wasn't, or the one before that. They only stayed for such a short while, and then moved on. But maybe, Beth hoped, maybe after it was all over this couple would stay.

"Do you think they'll last?" she asked John.

"You mean the new couple?"

"Yes."

"I hope so. I have some big plans for them. They'll eat it up before we're through."

"I hope so," Beth said wistfully, and then she began to think about doing it dog fashion and nothing else mattered.

Chapter 2

Madge Tillman heard the doorbell and scurried to answer it. She stopped at the door and straightened her cotton dress. She hadn't expected any visitors. Maybe it's just a salesman, she thought as she ran her slender fingers through her straw-blonde hair.

Opening the door slightly, Madge peered into Beth's radiant face.

"Hello, neighbor," Beth smiled, letting her even white teeth glisten in the early afternoon light. "My name is Beth Hallman. I live across the street. I thought I'd welcome you to the community." She smiled again, and cocked her eyebrows.

Madge felt embarrassed. Quickly, she pulled the door open and stepped aside as Beth entered.

"I'm sorry I acted so startled," Madge said, straightening a strand of loose hair. "Come in. How about some coffee?"

"Rather have a drink," Beth answered, casually scanning the room. Madge watched the young woman's eyes as they scrutinized the drapes, the carpeting, the furniture, the two still-life reproductions. Her look was not encouraging.

"Oh, we really haven't started decorating yet," Madge apologized. She was sorry she said the words. Why should she have to make excuses? She thought the room looked nice.

"It's lovely, ah-Marge?"

"Madge."

"Oh, yes, Madge. I think it's very - ah - homey."

"Thank you." Homey, Madge thought. Homey. Well, of all the nerve. She looked at Beth and the woman smiled, a deep warm smile. Madge felt embarrassed again. The woman didn't look like the cold, nose-tilted type.

"How about that drink?" Beth asked, winking at her.

"Sure." Madge wondered if she had miscalculated the woman's survey and comment. "What would you like?"

"Martini - and very, very dry. I start dry and end up wet later on in the evening." Madge laughed softly and Beth responded with another warm smile.

"Be back in a jiffy," Madge said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home."

"I will," Beth said, a thin, concerned smiled etched on her attractive face. I will, she thought as she let her hand cup under her breast. She peered to make sure Madge was out of sight, then squeezed her breast, pushing her fingers deep into the gland until her face twisted in pain. It felt good, like being crucified. It was the pain of sacrifice. She released the grip on her breast and gently rubbed her V. Ah, she thought, I can sense this Madge is going to be a very good partner. Ummmm ... I can taste her now ... I can see her trembling and moaning under John ... can see his ass quivering ... his muscles tense ... his veins protruding from the skin....

"One, or two olives?"

Beth jerked her hand from her V and called back, "One and a half."

"Have to settle for one then," came Madge's faraway answer. Beth shook herself and sat down on the sofa. She had to watch herself. She was becoming too bold. One more slipup like the last one, with the other couple, and it could all bust open. The whole key was keeping cool. Being able to control the impulse, not letting it get the best of her. She gritted her teeth as she felt the compulsion to squeeze her vagina. The sensation passed as she heard Madge shuffling toward her from the kitchen, a tray of drinks precariously balanced between her slender hands.

"Martinis for one."

"You're not having one?" Beth asked, letting her lower lip droop and fluttering her eyes.

"Oh, no," Madge said seriously, settling back in the French accent chair across from Beth. "I never drink before five. And then, not often."

Beth studied the woman carefully. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Madge answered; then, leaning forward eagerly, she asked, "Tell me, how long have you lived here? Do you like it? Is there a lot to do?"

"Wait! Wait!" Beth said, holding up her hand. "One thing at a time. First, I don't drink alone. Either you'll have to insult me and put these drinks back in the fridge or join me and make me happy."

Madge looked shocked. She sat back a moment and bit her lower lip. Arny didn't like her drinking, and she had never really enjoyed it. He set down the rule: only an occasional drink. He didn't want it to become a ritual. She had agreed, knowing that his father had been a heavy drinker and that Arny had been adamant about liquor since the first day he met her. He wasn't a square about it. He said it was necessary to have around, and to serve, but not a necessity to drink. They'd had an occasional drink, but never in the afternoon.

"Is something the matter?" Beth said, leaning forward and reaching to touch Madge's cheek.

When Beth's fingers made contact with Madge's flesh, she jerked back in the chair, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Oh - oh, I'm terribly sorry. I bet you thought I was a zombie for a minute."

"Well, I was certainly concerned." Beth leaned back and crossed her legs, letting her short, doeskin skirt ride up her thin, well-tapered legs. She smiled as she saw Madge's eyes view them, then glance away.

"I - I have a bad habit about letting my mind wander," Madge apologized. "I was thinking about our rules."

"Rules?"

"Yes. I know you'll probably think they're silly. But my husband, Arny, doesn't like me to drink in the daytime."

"Oh, teetotalers," Beth said crisply, consciously pulling her dress down to see how Madge would react. The woman blushed and glanced away.

"No ... no... We're really not that bad. It's just that Arny has his own ideas about things and gets mad when I don't go along."

"You mean you'd really like to have a drink?" Beth wriggled up in the sofa until her skirt was hiked mid-thigh. She recrossed her legs slowly, letting them hesitate slightly in the process and watching Madge's eyes.

Madge squirmed in her chair and-tried to smile pleasantly. She was embarrassed and slightly disturbed. She felt defensive about the drinking ... and Beth's legs. She kept crossing them. They were certainly attractive legs. Probably a habit she picked up at parties. Madge had seen a lot of women using the leg-crossing ploy to attract men. She didn't think it was wrong - just bold.

"Well?"

"What?"

"The drinks, Madge. Are we, or are we not?" Beth's voice was rimmed with irritation. Madge felt uncomfortable. She felt like a schoolgirl told by her mother not to cross a street and knowing the only way home was across that street. She looked at the martini pitcher. It was two in the afternoon. A woman was trying to be friendly with her. Why shouldn't she? Arny probably stopped and had martinis on the way home and never told her about it, anyway. Besides, why shouldn't she learn to enjoy herself? She might not have a college education or the grace of some of the women married to Arny's college friends, but she knew the diffe [...]