Pool Hall Foreplay

"Come oooon," I begged, my fingers brushing teasingly over the zipper.

"I told you, we can't," was the response. "My brother will be home any minute."

"I can do a lot in a minute," I shot a coy smile as my fingers dipped inside the front waistband. A sudden intake of breath and then a hand closed over mine and pulled it away.

"I said no! Is this all you think about? God! What is wrong with you?"

I sat back on the couch, frustrated. He always did this, made me feel like I was some sort of sexual deviant because I wanted physical attention from him. Lately, I had been the one having to initiate any sort of affection between us since baseball season had begun and his ridiculous rotisserie baseball league had started up. He and his friends would sit at the dining room table in his parents' house for hours on end, pouring over stats and trading players back and forth. He usually parked me in front of the TV in another room and, if I was lucky, I was provided a grilled cheese sandwich for sustenance. This was how I was spending my days off when I was 21 years old, with a boyfriend who I thought wanted to screw Wade Boggs more than he wanted me to go down on him. He still lived at home with his parents and while I did as well, we could always get more privacy at his house than mine. When we first started dating at 18, he couldn't keep his hands off me, but after three years, the fireworks between us had become a dud firecracker. Nothing was going off, especially not any articles of clothing. I couldn't have been any more ready to lose my virginity and he couldn't have been any more reluctant to take it.

"I want it to be special for you, why can't you understand that?" he was asking now, his voice bordering on a whine.

"Because I've been waiting for three years! Do you know the hype you have to live up to now? Three years, Bobby!" I retorted, my pent-up exasperation boiling over. "You've had every opportunity, I've given you every hint I could possibly drop. We've been alone in this house for hours for days on end when your parents go out of town! What more do you need?"

"We can't do it here! This is my parents' house!" he answered, sounding shocked I would suggest such a thing. Meanwhile, I knew people that would kill to have an empty house so they could get it on; we were lucky enough to have had one handed to us on a silver platter and Mr. Prim and Proper was scandalized at the idea.

"Fine! Book us a room somewhere!"

"What? A hotel room? How?" he was truly confused.

"Are you freakin' kidding me? You call and reserve a room! Anywhere, I don't care where! At the beach, the airport, I don't care!"

"What if they ask for some sort of deposit?"

"Bobby, are we seriously having this conversation? You give them a credit card number and they'll hold the room," my frustration was quickly turning to anger as it did so easily lately.

"Well, then you do it. You know I don't have credit cards and I can't just borrow my dad's or anything. He's going to want to know about the charges," was the response as I heard a car pull into the driveway and, shortly thereafter, a front door opening accompanied by the sound of various male voices arguing the merits of the Yankees versus the Red Sox.

Bobby hurriedly got up from the sofa and I swear I saw a look of relief flit across his face. "Look, we can talk about this later, okay? Do you want me to bring you something to eat? I'm going to be a while and I don't want you to...."

I got up as well. "I think I'll just go. I can't spend another day just sitting around waiting for you to decide where you want this relationship to go."

"Why does it have to go anywhere? Why can't it just stay the same?" he answered, his voice a full-fledged whine now.

"Because I'm not 18 anymore! Because our friends go out and party and drink and have fun and I'm still stuck in the same place I was three years ago! I want to do different things, I want...," I got no further as his brother stuck his head in the room looking for him.

"Hey, we're ready to start, let's go," he said, ignoring me.

"Okay," said Bobby. "Give me a minute."

He quickly turned to me as his brother left the room. "Look, I've explained this to you a thousand times. I don't like your friends, I don't like that you like hanging around them, I don't like the drinking, I don't know how to dance and I don't like parties. Can't you just accept that? If you love me, you wouldn't try to change me."

"I'm not trying to change you," I responded, desperately now as I heard the unmistakable sounds of the rotisserie game starting up. "I'm just trying to understand why you won't even touch me anymore, why you don't want me to touch you! Why is it always me that has to make a move? And when I do try to make something happen, you get all..."

"I don't have time for this. Parties and drinking aren't for us, okay? We're more mature than a bunch of people getting drunk," he answered, walking out the door as his friends started calling his name.

" 'Mature?'" I called after him. "Are you kidding me? You're about to spend the entire day rolling dice with a bunch of guys, pretending to be baseball players! You call that mature?"

"Ssshhh," he shushed me over his shoulder from the hallway. "They'll hear you."

"Fine! Hear this, then! I'm leaving! I'm not spending another second sitting on this fucking couch waiting for you!"

"Why do you have to curse?"

"Because I'm pissed off, Bobby!" I answered, grabbing my purse off the sofa and pushing past him as I reached the hallway, the group in the dining room suddenly going stone silent.

"Great, they heard you. You're embarrassing me," he muttered, as I stormed past him.

"Not as much as I could embarrass you," I hissed back. "How would your macho jock buddies like to know that you turn down blowjobs?"

"We're gonna talk about this later," he said, making an attempt to look like the man in the relationship in front of his friends.

"No, we're not," I retorted, slamming the front door of the house on my way out.

I got in my car, shaking. What the hell had I been thinking? This relationship had been dead, bloated and floating in the water for months. What exactly was I trying to salvage? Memories from a time when he had actually been all hot and bothered over me? Memories are great and all, but when the ones you are currently making involve more fighting than anything else, it's time to let go.

I started the car and screeched out of the driveway, not exactly sure where I was going. I didn't know where any of my friends were and, since these were the days before cell phones, I would have to go home and start calling people to find out what was going on; I didn't want to deal with the inevitable questions that would pop up when I started the calls.

I weighed options in my head. Movies? No, I didn't feel like sitting still; I wanted something to do. I mulled over other ideas and finally decided the new billiards place would be a good place. I could concentrate on something other than my defeated desires.

I got to the pool hall in about 20 minutes, enough time for me to start cooling off. When I got inside the pool hall, it was bliss. Music pumping through speakers, but at the perfect volume. Low conversations around me, the foamy sound of beer pitchers being filled. That distinct sound of a billiard ball going into the pocket. The click of ball on ball. A sudden laugh.

The place wasn't very full, being as it was a perfect day for the beach. I rented a table in the far corner, right under a speaker so I could hear the music even better. I racked the balls and lost myself in the game of angles and deliberation. A waitress came by and I ordered a Bud Ice.

I played a full game and was about to break, beginning the second one, when I heard someone call my name. I looked up, surprised, and saw Dominic grinning at me across the expanse of green felt. I felt my heart give an extra beat.

Dominic was a good friend's brother; he was part of that drinking and partying crowd that Bobby so disliked. He had the personality of a supernova, all laughter and brilliant wit. The package all that distinctiveness came in was incredibly easy on the eyes. He wasn't very tall, maybe only about 5'9", but it was compact muscle, the body of a volleyball player. He wore his hair long, sweeping past his shoulders. His eyes were the color of warm honey and his smile should have been illegal.

"Are you alone? Wanna share a table?" he asked, coming over to give me a friendly kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah to both," I said, attempting to sound casual and also trying not to look at his denim-encased butt as he turned around to take a cue off the rack on the wall. Remember who he is, I thought to myself. My friend's brothers were off-limits. Besides, I was in a relationship, wasn't I? "What relationship?" a little voice in my head piped up out of nowhere. "The one you've been having with a couch and a TV in your so-called boyfriend's parents' house? Get real, Amy."

He asked if he could break and I stepped back to let him do so. He bent over the table, lining up the shot and the muscles in his arms flexed as he drove the cue through his fingers. My mouth started watering like one of Pavolv's dogs. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe Bobby was right, maybe I had sex on my mind too much.

"Hey, your shot," said Dom, snapping me out of my lust-filled reverie.

I tried to keep my hands steady as I leaned over the table. My right arm gave a visible tremble as he got a little too close.

"Hang on, wait," he moved behind me, positioning my arm for me. I felt a familiar tightening in my stomach.

"Try now," he said, moving away. I shot and the ball careened wildly off the side rail. I heard him chuckle.

"You gotta take your time, Amy. The point isn't to hurry, it's to get the position you want. Plan your move, look at all your options. Make it go where you want it to go."

Oh, my God, I thought. Must everything sound like a double entendre to me?

We played for another hour, the conversation revolving around the game. He corrected shot after shot for me, hands gliding over my arms, adjusting my stance by nudging my legs with his. At one point, he leaned his body completely over mine to help me make a particularly difficult move and there was no mistaking what was going on behind his zipper. The entire game was foreplay, as far as I was concerned. He unexpectedly asked me about Bobby, as if he had just noticed that I was unaccompanied.

"He's at his house with his friends; it's rotisserie baseball time," I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"He doesn't like us much, huh?" laughed Dom, surprising me again.

"No, he doesn't", I said, deciding that I wouldn't even bother with attempting diplomacy. "He doesn't like when I go out partying with you guys. Thinks it's immature."

"And sitting around with a bunch of dudes playing pretend-baseball is grown-up?" he teased good-naturedly.

"What can I tell you? That's why I'm not with him today...or possibly tomorrow," I said recklessly. Bobby was, I decided, quickly going to be part of my past.

"Really?" Dom sounded pleasantly surprised. "Does he know this?"

"If he didn't get the message today, he's denser than I thought," I responded smoothly. I turned to place the balls back in their holder to take to the counter as our time was up. Was it my imagination or did Dom's eyes go over my body as I leaned over the table? I moved deliberately to place my cue stick back in the rack, allowing my hand to slide down it slowly as I clicked it into place. No, it wasn't my imagination. A girl can always feel a guy's eyes on her, especially if those eyes reflect intent and a bit of heat.

"Sooo, do you want to go grab something to eat somewhere?" he asked, attempting civility. I appreciated the gesture, but I was too far gone.

"Yeah, I'd like to go somewhere. But you and I both know it's not to eat," I said brazenly, my eyes looking directly into his, letting him see what was lurking there.

A slow smile started on his lips and it hit me like a physical blow south of my navel. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and twirled them slowly on his finger.

"No one's home at my place," he said, his voice pitched a bit lower.

I didn't even hesitate following him out the door.

The ride to his house was silent, but that doesn't mean we weren't communicating. My hand had slipped comfortably between his legs as he drove, feeling as if it had been there before. If truth be told, it had been, but only in those fantasies I kept to myself.

I stroked my fingers on the denim, causing him to accelerate and take a red light. I didn't bother with the button, heading straight for the zipper. My fingers slipped inside, enjoying the reaction they were causing. He glanced down and I heard a growl escape him. I eased my nails across the soft cotton of his underwear, feeling him stir impatiently.

"Amy," he rasped. "You're making me crazy."

"Only fair," I coyly responded. "After all your teasing at the pool place."

He shifted in his seat, allowing me easier access. When he stopped at a red light, I unbuttoned the jeans and reached in, claiming my reward.

I leaned over, wrapping my lips around him, not caring if we were in a low sports car where anyone could look over and see what I was doing. His breath was ragged now as he moved under me. "Fuckin' light!" he cursed.

I felt him go to shift and I eased off him slowly, letting my tongue trail along him. He took the corner going into their neighborhood practically on two wheels and jammed the car into park in the driveway.

We both bolted from the car; he didn't even bother to button up. He yanked open the front door and then slammed and locked it shut behind him. He grabbed me with absolutely no pretense of subtlety and his mouth was across mine before I could breathe. Our tongues crashed together, nothing tender or gentle about it. This was pure lust at its most primitive.

He pushed me up against the wall, his mouth on my neck, hot and urgent. My fingers found the waistband of his jeans and yanked down as his own hands found their way to the front of my shorts. He quickly unbuttoned and zipped down. I stepped out of the shorts as he bent over to pull off his shoes and shuck off the jeans. Smashed back together again as the front of his briefs struggled to hold him back. Urgent moans littered the air around us.

My hands ripped at the front of shirt, sending buttons plinking on the tile floor. I stopped assaulting his mouth for a second to take in the sight of his amazing chest and he took advantage of the interruption to yank my shirt off and send it flying. I pulled his shirt completely off and attached myself again to his lips. Dear God, this man was so freakin' hot!

He slid his hands around my ass and pulled me to him. "Jump", he muttered, "I'll catch you."

I didn't hesitate, leaping up and wrapping my legs around him. His arms immediately snaked around me and he moved as quickly as he could to his bedroom. We collapsed in a heap on his bed, his fingers expertly finding the clasp on my bra. He slipped me out of it and covered one breast with his hand while the other received some serious attention from his lips and tongue. My eyes slipped half closed as he slingshot me into a world I had never visited. His tongue was insistent on my nipple and his teeth nibbled, sending shot after shot of pure pleasure straight to my center. The hand that wasn't occupied with my breast headed to my bikini panty and yanked it quite decidedly down; I know I probably forgot to breathe.

I leaned back into the bed and raised my butt so he could completely strip off my underwear. He immediately came back on top of me after he was done and my own hands yanked at his brief, intent on getting what I wanted. He kicked them off when they got around his ankles and, without any warning, he headed straight south, sending me into an upward spiral.

Bobby had never gone anywhere near that area with his mouth (or anything else), but Dominic knew exactly what to do. Nibbling, licking, sucking every part he could get his lips, teeth and tongue on. I was lost, completely in a haze and dangerously close to losing my mind.

He wrapped both arms around my thighs and increased the intensity of his attentions when my hips started to buck against his mouth and the juices began to flow. To complete my delectable agony, he brought one hand around and began to stroke, fingers and tongue together in amazing rhythm. Sounds I had never heard before reached my ears, making my eyes widen and my breathing to become even shallower as all I could do was gasp and moan.

I was thrashing around, sheets a rumpled mess under me. I was in control of absolutely nothing. Foreign feelings and sensations were ricocheting all through me, initiating me into what I had been denied for so long. When he pulled away and positioned himself between my legs, I was more than ready.

He entered smoothly, not surprising at all since I was soaked. He pushed a little and I saw an uncertain look cross his face. He tried again and met resistance. He looked at me then, his eyes widening in surprise. I didn't take my eyes from his as he stopped moving for a minute.

"Are you kidding? Amy, I didn't know you were still...I mean, are you sure...," he began, stammering.

"Dom, it's fine. Please...just...I want you so bad!" I didn't care that I was whimpering. Nothing mattered, nothing. I wanted to feel him inside me; I wanted to know what every inch of him felt like.

He hesitated just long enough to grab a pillowcase from one of the pillows on his bed. He positioned it under me; he didn't have to tell me why.

He started back into me, slower this time. When he met the resistance again, he pushed a little harder, making me bite my bottom lip. He looked at me, concerned, but I whispered "Keep going." He pressed deeper, his eyes still looking into mine. When he broke through, I cried out, but the pain was minimal and the floodgates he opened were worth the discomfort.

He had me moving in rhythm with him now, my nails digging into his back as he rocked me back and forth. When he increased the movement of his hips, I did as well, answering his increasingly desperate thrusts. Never in a thousand years could I have imagined how indescribable this was. The heat, the throbbing, the sounds and smells were overwhelming.

I felt a tide rising in me as he kept going deeper and deeper. One particularly powerful thrust sent me over. My head went back, my nails dug deeper and I growled out his name as the waves washed over me and dragged me out into that delicious sea. He came right after, indistinguishable sounds coming from his lips.

He gently collapsed on me, kissing me over and over, his body completely melded against mine, his hands in my hair. We stayed like that a while, simply enjoying the contact of skin on skin.

"You should have told me, beautiful," he mumbled, his lips caressing my neck.

"I didn't want to. You might have changed your mind," I whispered, my hands going over that ass that I had admired in the jeans. They were even better out of the denim.

"No, baby, there was no turning back after you went down on me in the car," he laughed, "How was I supposed to know you're a virgin after you do that?"

"I was a virgin," I corrected him, reaching down to touch him. Surprisingly, he stirred against my hand and I felt him getting hard again.

"Your ex is a complete jackass," he said, wrapping my hand around his stiffening cock.

"When did he become my ex?" I asked teasingly, as he started moving my hand up and down on him.

"About the time I walked into the pool hall and saw you alone," he groaned out as my hand started to learn the rhythm he liked.

"You know, I need to catch up on a lot of this stuff. Care to teach me?" I asked casually, as his mouth came back to mine and I increased my strokes on him.