It was a simple truth and there was no denying it. My best mate Keith's beautiful daughter Katy Halloran looked very tempting when I walked into my local watering hole early one Thursday evening to cool down over a couple of beers and escape the hot breeze blowing in from Australia's dusty centre.
I weaved my way through the noisy crowd and tapped her on the shoulder. "G'day gorgeous."
When she turned her head and saw it was me, she grinned. "Jack!" She spun round and enveloped me with her slender arms and gave me a warm hug. "You're a nice surprise. How are you?"
I pecked her on the cheek. "I'm good. You?" I held her for a few seconds, enjoying the warm feel of her full breasts against my chest and her delicate perfume caressing my senses.
She let go of me and stood back. "D'you like my new dress?" She swung her left hip out and rested a hand on it like a catwalk model. "I bought it this afternoon."
She looked gorgeous. Her dress, a rich and vivid purple that emphasised her light tan, was made of a silky fabric that hugged her nineteen-year old body like a warm caress. A partially unfastened white zipper snaked it's way down the front between her breasts, over her flat stomach, and ended a few centimetres above where the hem stopped high on her long thighs.
"You look great," I said, resisting the temptation to look at the cleavage she was showing and the way her nipples poked into the material.
She scanned me from my short brown hair with its streaks of grey to my white cross-trainers. "You don't look too bad yourself. You should wear shorts more often."
Not used to compliments about my appearance, I smiled and said nothing. I'm not a big fan of shorts and only wear them when I'm out jogging. I had every intention of doing just that after work that day when I swapped my boring dark grey suit for a pair of black shorts and a white t-shirt after spending most of the day in long and sleepy meetings about proposals to upgrade the company's computer systems. But the choice between running around getting hot and sweaty and spending a couple of hours in air-conditioned comfort enjoying a cold beer was, as they say, a no-brainer.
"So," I said, "what brings you here?"
"I'm having a couple of drinks with a couple of guys I bumped into." She looked over at two young men around her age who were playing pool at one of two small tables at one end of the crowded room. "The tall guy's Spike and the other one's called Fletch, I think. Come over and say hi."
I shook my head. "Maybe later, right now I need to unwind."
"Whenever you're ready," she said, turning toward the bar. "I'd like to see if you can beat me for once."
I watched her pick up her drink-loaded tray and head back towards her friends. The eyes of half the men in the room seemed to be on her as she dodged her way through the crowd, her taut round buttocks shifting seductively with every step. I knew what they were thinking, since I was thinking it myself. She has the kind of body that encourages some pretty wild fantasies, the tamest of which is wondering, like I have from time to time, what she looks like naked.
I sat down on the only vacant stool at the bar and ordered a beer. When it arrived, I took a long gulp and enjoyed the way the cold amber fluid hit my throat when I swallowed. My thirst now partially satisfied, I looked over at the pool area where Katy and her two friends were playing. She was bent over the table while Spike stood behind her, guiding her cue into position with one hand while resting his other on the small of her back. I was puzzled, since she's been using her parent's pool table ever since she was tall enough to play without standing on tiptoe. Over the years, she's turned into a good enough player to beat me most of the time--no mean feat, since I used to haunt pool rooms in my younger and more reckless days. If she wanted, she could hustle a small fortune out of any guy who was foolish enough to think that being beautiful equals being dumb. So what was she up to?
"See that chick over there?" said a male voice beside me.
I turned to see who was speaking. A little older than me and with thinning grey hair, he was dressed in paint-stained khaki shorts, a black t-shirt, and heavy work boots.
"Where?" I said.
He turned back towards Katy's group. "There, over by the pool table, the one in the short dress. Look at the ass on her."
"Not bad," I said, trying to sound less interested than I was. We watched in silence as Spike leaned in closer and slid his hand from where it was resting on the back of her waist down onto one of her buttocks. I expected her to remove it diplomatically but firmly in the way women do when a man strays too far, but she didn't. Instead, she let him fondle her while she lined up her cue on the white ball and sent it rolling along to one of the others. When his fingers reached the bottom edge of her dress and seemed about to make contact with the top of her bare thigh, she grabbed his wrist and pulled it away.
The man beside me twisted his beer glass around on the bar top. "Is she asking for it or what! Jeez, I'd give 'er one."
I fiddled with the corner of a damp rubber mat on the bar. The way he was talking about her was beginning to get to me, so I stood up. "I need a piss," I said, picking up my beer, "back in a few."
I jumped down from the stool and headed off into the gents, where I put my glass down beside one of the two sinks and went to an empty spot at one end of the long stainless steel urinal. While emptying my bladder, I wondered what Katy was up to. Why was she pretending to be hopeless at pool when she could thrash everyone in the hotel?
I mulled over the question while I finished off. In the end I came to the obvious conclusion that she was just having a bit of fun, and that I was taking the whole thing too seriously. Her two friends were just a couple of typically horny young guys with the usual overabundant hormones and Katy, being young and attractive and wearing a very sexy dress, was a natural target for what was merely a bit of harmless fun.
After I washed my hands and went back into the bar, I looked over at her and drew a sharp breath. She was showing a lot more of her impressive cleavage than she was before. I guessed that in my absence she must have pulled her zipper down a few catches, presumably to give her two friends a bit more to look at.
I sat down at a small oak veneer table a short distance from the pool table and watched her twist a small cube of chalk over the top of her cue, then blow away the excess. She put the chalk down and leaned forward to take her shot. As I watched her line her cue up with the white ball in order to pot the remaining black and win the game, I couldn't help staring at the way her breasts shifted around under her dress. My cock tingled with that pleasant, shivery feeling that told me that, if I didn't stop ogling her, it would rear its unwanted head.
Her breasts gave an extra jiggle as she hit the white ball and sent it rolling across the table. When, as I knew it would, it hit the black at the perfect angle and it disappeared into a corner pocket, she jumped up and raised her arms in the air, nearly knocking the end of her cue against the slats on the ceiling.
"Yes!" she cried out loud enough for me to hear above the din of music and loud voices, "I win!"
My dick began to grow as I stared at the way her victory dance made her breasts bounce wildly and her dress ride up to show the rest of her thighs. And I wasn't the only one enjoying her antics either; her two friends and a few of the men nearby were showing a lot of interest as well. Whether she knew it or not, she was getting a lot of attention.
When she calmed down, Spike hugged her and tried to kiss her while Fletch stood back and watched. He grabbed her ass, causing her to let go of her cue, sending it clattering onto the floor. My stomach knotted. For a moment it looked as if her exuberant antics were about to get her into trouble. Not wanting to interfere too quickly, I waited to see what she would do.
I needn't have worried. She turned her head, pushed him away, and said something to him. When he replied and she smiled and patted his arm, my stomach untied itself and I relaxed. While she was clearly revelling in being the centre of attention, she seemed to be skilful and assertive enough to keep her friend under control.
They went over to an old leather couch near the pool table and sat down with her in the middle. They were talking and laughing and seemed to be in good spirits, so I was about to go to another part of the hotel and leave them to it when something happened that grabbed my attention. The two men each put a hand on one of her thighs just above the knee and started rubbing them. Before I knew it, I was wondering how warm and soft her skin would feel as I watched them caress her, moving their hands a little higher on each upstroke. I guess it was inevitable that they'd have trouble keeping their hands off her, given how provocatively dressed she was.
I was filled with a mixture of concern and arousal, an unpleasant combination that niggled at my conscience. The concerned friend in me wanted her to push their hands away before they explored what was under her dress, while the lecher in me wanted to see what they would do next. I sat there, fiddling with my empty glass, wishing I could turn my eyes away from the sight of their wandering hands while my cock grew harder.
Apparently getting caught up in the excitement of what he was doing, Spike started tugging at the zipper on her dress while Fletch moved his hand higher on her thigh. She tried to stand up, but they held her down and continued groping her. I sat frozen for a few seconds, arrested by the powerfully arousing sight of their hands exploring her body. But it was my friend Katy they were molesting, and no matter how excited I was at the prospect of seeing how far they'd go, I knew I had to act. So, not caring whether my hard-on could be seen or not, I jumped up from my seat and stormed over.
"I think you guys should cool it," I said, looking at each of them in turn.
Fletch let go of her as soon as I spoke, but Spike continued working on her zipper and stroking her left breast. "Get fucked," he said, glaring at me.
When Katy moved to stand up, Spike held her down. "Get your hands off me!" She shoved his hands away and stood up. "God, Spike, you're such a pig."
I glared at him. "You really shouldn't be messing with her in public like that." I turned to Katy. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She bent down and picked her small bag up from the table beside the couch. "Come on Jack, let's go."
I took a last look at the two guys as we turned and started threading our way toward the exit. They were glaring at us and muttering what I assumed were curses.
Spike's voice rose above the din. "Fucking skanky bitch."
Furious, I turned to go back and have it out with him, but she grabbed my arm. "Leave it, Jack, they're just pissed off. They'll get over it."
We turned away from them and continued on our way. No wonder he was angry. He must have thought he was onto a good thing with Katy until I came along and took her away from him. As she said, he'd calm down and find another girl to mess with.
When arrived outside in the early evening heat, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. "Thank you Jack. I didn't realise they were such jerks."
"I couldn't just sit there and watch them while they molested you, now could I?"
She let go of me and took a step back. "I guess I should choose my friends more carefully in future. They were a bit grabby."
I couldn't resist glancing at the upper swells of her breasts before returning my gaze to her eyes. She looked down at her cleavage, then up at me, and smiled. Embarrassed at being caught ogling her, I turned and started walking along the street to where my car was parked. The sharp sound of her shoes clacking on the pavement filled the warm air as she caught up with me and trotted along beside me, her silky shoulder-length black hair bobbing around her young face and glinting in the evening light.
