Hey, sexy boy, set me free,
Don’t be so shy, play with me,
My dirty boy, can’t you see,
That you belong next to me,
You are the one I need.
Got a sexy drive – Just push start!
“Want to make this interesting?” pouring a healthy dose of Jack over ice cubes floating in coke.
“I want a blow job – what do you want? Shoes?,” your playful smile wavers slightly as you watch me stir your drink with my finger – slowly slipping my finger in and out between my lips sucking it dry – each sweet drop throbbing to life on my tongue.
“Shoes? I won’t bet you what can buy for myself,” your eyes on mine now, sharp and focused, deciding that the truth was more effective than flirting – watching you slowly raise the glass to your lips, wanting to feel your lips demanding against mine, exploring each aching nipple pounding with need skipping along my pulse, cutting each nerve to shreds on a path of pleasure to the soft pink skin between my thighs throbbing as I slowly raise my skirt up my thighs to straddle your lap.
“Sex?” your voice dipping low, your interest growing, your eyes travel over my breasts, straining the lace edges of my top while I lean against you more than necessary.
“Winner take all…anything at all,” I add, a whisper against your ear, feeling a surge of victory as the ice cubes rattle loudly in the glass, your eyes catch mine in challenge and I take the drink from your hand, your hand on mine around the glass a moment too long, dipping the cold glass between my tits, nipples straining against the soft cloth, the cold drops from the glass disappearing smoothly between the mounds of flesh daring your tongue to follow.
“Ok,” your massive chest expanding as your voice hesitates, your breathing catching deep in your throat, your hands moving lightly up my thighs, exploring the boundaries of my body, so yielding under your touch…every curve surrendering to your expectations…my hands covering yours.
“You got to win that pleasure,” I purr with fake innocence, watching the emotions rage, your control slip a little – and then a little more as I roll my hips against your hardness, growing thicker with each movement, “do we have a bet?”
“Yes,” a moan of pleasure escapes from your lips on a stutter…once, twice, and again… I sample your mouth, the taste whiskey flooding my senses and need rising in my blood, my hands slipping between your legs massaging the bulge in front of your pants, your hips shift unconsciously toward me, encouraging my addiction…
“Let’s play,” your voice deep and sexy as I roll off your lap, silk garters inviting your participation peaking innocently out the hem of my skirt, I bend forward in front of you to reposition my skirt at mid-thigh and remind you of the prize.
“You break, I’ll rack…I like a tight rack,” I smile sweetly, rolling the triangle around in my hands, enjoying the feel of the rounded edges of the cool brass, riding so smooth against the luxurious blue felt under my fingers, the weight of each perfectly balanced ball.
”For luck,” I raise the 8 ball to my lips for a kiss to seal the bet before putting it into place….sharing visuals of my tongue, warm and wet, across your balls tight with pleasure …gently sucking each one…and then both into my mouth….teasing both of us into orgasm…watching you struggle between passion and control.
Stroking my cue between my fingers, the friction sending tingles of desire dancing through my body, the first crack of the cue ball like lightening striking on every pounding nerve instantly…recalling the sound of your balls against my ass with each drive deeper and deeper toward our mutual goal.
“Big balls…” your voice brings my mind back to the game, your quick easy smile a warning, as two striped balls spiral toward opposite pockets, slightly impressed with the balance of your hands, so thick and practiced in every measured movement, bringing back memories of earlier caresses, my body betraying me at your slightest command…wanton of your touch.
“I want you baby,” both confession and statement of fact, leaning forward over the pocket to allow the thin fabric my top to fall lower between the perfectly round mounds of warm cleavage punctuated by throbbing nipples, rewarded when your eyes leave the game to slowly caress each breast with appreciation, needing to feel the tight fit of your cock stiff between my tits…watching the ball bounce short of the pocket with amusement and triumph.
“Dirty pool huh?” your smile easy with a laugh of respect for my tactic and technique.
“Well, I never promised to play fair,” slowly masturbating the stick between my fingers in long steady strokes, like my hands tight around your erection, I can feel you watching me move around the table, admiring each shot, finessing each ball into the pocket, until the eight ball sits alone at the end.
“Double up the bet? One last shot…winner take all,” your voice challenges me, humor dancing across those sexy lips, “how good are you?”
“Yes, double up,” sexual tension washing violently over me all at once, my eyes meeting yours across the table as I reach for the chalk, “enjoy the view.”
The look in your eyes turning predatory…there is no surrendering…any humor…only winners and losers…as I bend over the table in front of you, my skirt pulls dangerously high against my thighs, soft red panties cushioned by a delicate strip of amber hair promising pleasure…
“Don’t choke baby,” your warm voice in my ear, like honey tempting me to taste your mouth again, strong hands on either side of my hips on the rail, your dick hard against my ass, your hard-on ready to pay or collect your debt…
”I never promised to play fair,“ your words echo mine as my breathing stumbles, your confident understanding of my desires sends tingles ripping across my bottom lip like a sharp knife with thoughts of your hardness deep in my mouth, your hands wrapped tight in my hair….my eyes on yours…watching your pleasure every stroke of my mouth….