Pool Bet

"Care to make your next game a little more interesting, boys?"

My eyes darted to Dan's wife, who was just reaching the bottom of the stairs with the necks of three fresh bottles of beer in one hand. Dan and I had just finished our second game of pool in his basement; neither of us was very good, but we were about evenly matched and had split the two games.

"Just having you hang around would make the game more interesting," I thought to myself, scanning Melissa's curves appreciatively but furtively -- or so I thought. Melissa is adorable; she's all Mary Ann and no Ginger, with a smile that lights up her whole face, dirty-blonde hair just past her shoulders that she usually wears in a ponytail, and a body that even 15 years and two kids later doesn't let you forget she'd been a darn good gymnast through college.

Out loud I was more polite: "What did you have in mind?"

"Just a little wager," she said, passing out two of the beers and taking a swallow from the third. Then she fixed her lovely green eyes on me and said, "If you win, I'll give you a blowjob."

I had just taken a swig from my beer, and I almost choked on it. There'd never been a hint of anything like that between us, and I was caught completely off guard. I glanced at Dan, then back at Melissa, and said intelligently, "Excuse me?"

"If you win, I'll suck your cock," Melissa said matter-of-factly.

Recovering slowly, I said, "Uh, OK, uh ... and if Dan wins?"

"Then I get to watch you do him," she said.

I almost choked again even though I didn't have anything in my mouth. "What?" I said.

"If Dan wins, I get to watch you suck his cock," she repeated. I stared at her, speechless.

She shrugged. "I've always wanted to watch a guy give a blowjob, and Dan won't do it," she said.

"What makes you think I will?" I asked.

"We've seen the way you look at me," she said. "I think you'll do pretty much anything I ask you to." Apparently I hadn't been as furtive as I thought as I've watched her -- and I have watched her, ever since Dan introduced us when they were dating. But there was no accusation in her voice; there might have even been a little pride.

As I was thinking about how to reply, I saw her gaze drift south, and her smile turned a little mischievous; I knew she could tell through my jeans that I had a semi. I don't fluster easily, but I was flustered now.

"I'm not, uh, I mean, I've never, uh ..."

"Steve, we know you're straight," she said. "That's what makes this so hot for me. I want to know that a straight guy is so into me that he'd take a bet like this. And I think you're that into me."

Looking at Dan, I said, "I'm sorry, dude. I've never meant any disrespect."

He laughed. "Never took it that way, buddy. I know she's hotter than sin. It bugs me sometimes when strangers look at her the way you do, but I know you'd never do anything behind my back. And we've had some great sex talking about you going home and jerking off to the image of her in your head."

I started to protest, but he was right; I had done that more than once. "So ... you're cool with the bet she suggested?" I said. "You're cool with watching her go down on me after I win the next game?"

"Hell yeah I'm cool with it -- but you're not going to win."

"And you're cool with that too, with the idea of me going down on you?" I asked, a little incredulously.

"Hey, I figure if I close my eyes you might as well be Emma Watson. And I'm cool with anything that turns her on."

"But not enough to be the suck-ER instead of the suck-EE," I said, and instantly regretted it. I shouldn't have made him look bad in front of his wife.

Melissa rescued the situation, though. "Actually, I like it better this way. If you do him, I get to see two things I really want to see: a guy sucking cock because I asked him to, and what Dan looks like getting head from someone else."

"I don't know," I said. "Since you both obviously already know, I'll admit I'd do a lot for the chance to get a blowjob from you. But if I lose ... I don't know."

"Well, let me ask you a couple of questions," Dan said. "Do you think it would turn you gay?"

"No. I mean, you're an OK looking guy for a dumb jock" -- chuckles all around at this -- "but I'm never gonna get turned on by the thought of YOU naked."

"Good. Does the idea disgust you?"

"Not really. Not much that adults can do together disgusts me."

"Are you worried people might find out?"

"No. I trust you both about that."

"Are you afraid it will hurt?"

"I doubt it would hurt."

"Are you worried about the cum?"

"Hadn't really thought that far ahead, but uh, yeah, I guess."

"Any other reasons you wouldn't do it?"

A long pause. My thoughts went from "'Cause it's gay" to "Or would it be kinda homophobic to turn down a request from a beautiful woman?" Finally, I said, "I guess it's just the cum."

"Fine," he said. "I'll pull out when I'm ready and come somewhere else. Melissa, you OK with that?"

"I guess," she said. She must have sensed I was thinking about accepting the bet, because she upped the ante. "And I'll sweeten the deal a little for you, Steve. For every ball you pocket, I'll take off a piece of clothing. I'll even let you pick."

She must've read my expression. Sensing victory, she walked over to me. She always moves nicely, but doesn't usually seem conscious of how sexy she is -- which of course makes her even sexier. But there was a little extra swivel in her hips now. She walked right up to me and pressed herself against me; her hand brushed the semi in my jeans as she whispered in my ear: "Besides, even if you lose you'll win." She flicked her tongue against my earlobe, then backed away, smiling.

I think she knew that would seal the deal, and it did. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but OK. I'm in. I don't mind telling you that I really want to win, though."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Dan said.

Melissa perched on a barstool while Dan racked the balls. "Your break," he said.

I chalked up the cue and sent the cue ball cracking against the rack. The 3-ball dropped into a corner pocket. "Guess I'm solids," I said. And turning to Melissa, I said, "I get to pick, right?"

She smiled and nodded. "Your sweater, please," I said, smiling back. The sweater draped off of one shoulder, and I could see two straps there; one was obviously for a bra, the other for a tank top or chemise, so I knew I wouldn't see much yet, but I stopped to watch her anyway. She didn't disappoint. Setting her beer down on a high table behind her, she peeled her sweater off without changing her perch on the barstool, and tossed it on the stool beside her. Then she leaned back and put her elbows on the table, arching her back to accentuate her breasts, still covered by a thin cotton shirt and a bra.

"Still your shot," Dan reminded me. I turned my attention back to the table and saw that I had a pretty open shot at the 6. I put it solidly in a side pocket, then turned back to Melissa. "Your shirt next, please," I said.

She repeated the show, this time exposing her firm, flat belly and a beautiful green bra with just enough lace to be sexy. This was still not really anything I hadn't seen before; the bra was even almost the same color as the two-piece swimsuit she'd worn to the beach last summer when the three of us and my soon-to-be-ex wife had gone together. But she looked really good leaning back to put her elbows back on the table, and it was hard to tear my gaze away when Dan cleared his throat to remind me that it was still my shot.

Forcing my attention to the table, I saw that my best option was a one-rail bank shot that might put the 5 in a corner. I didn't have much hope for the shot, really, but didn't see anything better and took it -- and the ball dropped. I looked at Melissa happily and said, "Shoes, please."

Surprised, she said, "Shoes? Really?"

"You can't get your pants off without taking your shoes off first," I said.

"I thought sure you'd go for her bra," Dan said.

"Plenty of time for that," I replied.

"Hey, you've only sunk three so far. Don't get cocky," he said.

"Too late for that," Melissa said, staring at the bulge in my jeans. We all laughed a little too much at that, and Melissa kicked her shoes off.

My next best chance was a clear but long shot at the 7; the ball rattled in off the angles. "Now your pants, please," I said to Melissa. I reveled in watching openly as she hopped off the bar stool, undid the snap and zipper of her jeans, and wriggled them down past her hips, exposing boy shorts that matched her bra. She pushed her jeans down further until they dropped around her ankles, then stepped out of them. Still nothing I hadn't seen before, but it was the first time I'd been able to look without fear of being caught looking, and I enjoyed every second of it. What she did next convinced me Melissa was enjoying it too; she turned around and bent straight over to pick her jeans up off the floor, giving me a fantastic view of her pert round ass. I thought I saw a slight bulge from protruding pussy lips between her legs, and I was sure there was a little wet spot there already.

She smiled broadly at me as she stood up and turned around, and she hopped back up on the bar stool, took another pull from her beer, and leaned back on her elbows again as if sitting there in her underwear while I gawked at her was the most natural thing in the world. "Your next ball will make things interesting," she said.

"Oh, things are already interesting," I said with a crooked smile. "You look fantastic."

"Thanks," she said, still smiling herself.

"OK, Steve. I've never seen you sink five straight in your life," Dan said. "If you do it now I'll start to think you've been hustling me for years."

"I wish," I said, turning back to the table and seeing no good options. I tried to bank the 4 in off a cushion, but it wouldn't go.

"I was starting to wonder if I was going to get a turn," Dan said. He had a clean shot at the 9 and made it easily, setting himself up for an easy run along the long rail for the 11. He made that too, and then pulled off a two-cushion bank shot to pocket the 10. He missed a tough angle at the 13 but left me with little to shoot at. I buried the cue ball as well as I could, and he missed the 13 again and set me up for an easy tap-in of the 4.

I looked at Melissa and said happily, "Your bra next, please." She sat forward and crossed her arms, and each hand slid a bra strap off the opposite shoulder down to her biceps. Uncrossing her arms, she let the bra curl downward slowly, exposing breasts that looked almost exactly as I'd imagined them: round, close together, copper-colored areolae about the size of a nickel, nipples pointing just a little north of straight ahead. Probably B cups, and most guys would think they were too small, but all I could think about was cupping them in my hands and sucking them. I tore my gaze away and looked Melissa straight in the eyes, smiling appreciatively, and said sincerely, "Wow."

She dropped her eyes shyly for a moment, then looked up at me and said, "You can look some more, it's OK." I did. I made sure she could see me looking at one, then turning my eyes slowly across to the other, and I added a nice long leer down her flat stomach to those sexy green boy shorts and down her shapely, toned legs, then slowly back up before I met her gaze again. I shook my head slightly, almost disbelieving how amazing she looked, smiled crookedly and said "Wow" again, drawing it out a little this time.

"Thanks," she said again.

"All right, ya perv," said Dan good-naturedly. "If you're done ogling my wife, it's still your shot."

"What if I'm not done?" I said. This got a laugh from Melissa, and then she gave me the incentive I needed to pay attention to the game again: "Sink one more ball and you'll have me completely naked," she said.

The best shot I had was a bank at the 1, but it was tucked partially behind the 12 and I didn't really think I could make it. Melissa walked around the table and rested her elbows on the rail, straddling the spot I was aiming at. "Tough shot," she said, trying but failing to look sympathetic.

"I'm not sure whether you're trying to distract me or inspire me," I said. "But it's working."

I struggled to pay attention to the shot with her beautiful face, bare shoulders and stunning breasts as a backdrop. I took it, but missed -- not badly, but I missed -- and set Dan up much better than I thought I would. He dropped the 15 easily, then the 12, and then hit the cue off a cushion and into the 14, which banked off the opposite cushion and dropped in the corner -- an almost miraculous shot for players of our caliber.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said. "Who's been hustling who all this time?"

"Lucky," Dan admitted. Even luckier, he had a clean shot at his last ball and sank it easily, leaving him only the 8 to win. He called it for a side pocket, but he missed.

"That's more like it," I said. I took aim at the 1 and dropped it before Melissa had a chance to take up a position like last time, and winked at her as I said, "No choice left for me to make, but I want to say it while I have the chance: Please take off your panties."

She slid her hands down her sides and inside her boy shorts, hooked her thumbs over the edge, and kept sliding her hands down the outsides of her thighs. She bent over slightly to keep moving them down until they were ready to drop, then let go of them and stood back up. I saw a narrow landing strip of dark pubic hair, but she kept her legs demurely together except for brief moments as she stepped out of her panties; those glimpses were enough to confirm that her labia protruded a little, and that she was bare below the landing strip. Even more than I wanted her breasts in my mouth, I wanted nothing more than to suck those lips gently and probe the folds with my tongue.

Melissa struck a pin-up pose, then said, "Think you can sink two more balls?"

"Not without looking away," I said.

"Your call," she said. "You can look at me while you shoot if you want to."

"Oh, I'll definitely be looking at you when I shoot."

"I meant when you shoot pool, you naughty boy."

"Well, I could look at you for a long time," I said, still looking. "But now I'm going to win that bet."

Turning back to the table, I saw that I had a pretty good shot at my last ball and spent a little time thinking about where I wanted the cue for a shot at the 8. I lined it up, dropped the 2 in a side pocket, and gave myself a straight line at the 8 for a corner. Melissa wasn't ready to concede yet, though; she saw which corner I needed to aim at and stood behind it, parting her legs a little, making an unbelievable backdrop for my shot.

I looked her in the eyes, made a circle with a finger and thumb and moved it suggestively over the cue tip. I said, "8 ball in your pocket," and I put it there for the win.

"Guess you were more motivated than I was," Dan said.

"I got more motivated as the game went on," I said, letting my gaze wander openly over Melissa's body again.

Turning to Dan, she said with a pout, "You should've had that orange stripe twice."

"Sorry, babe, I tried."

"Yeah, right," she said teasingly. "I should've played him myself. Maybe that way I would've got what I wanted."

"Aw," I said. "And here I thought you wanted me."

"Well," she replied, "let's see my consolation prize. Your turn to drop trou."

I pushed my shoes off with my feet, quickly undid my belt and jeans, and pushed them and my shorts to the floor at the same time. My already stiff cock sprang free as I did so and bobbed a bit as I stepped out of my pants.

"Mmmm," she said, looking at my pole and biting her lower lip. I thought that was nice of her; I've got average equipment, nothing to brag about, though several women, including my estranged wife, have told me my cock is "pretty". I asked her once what made it pretty, and she said she liked the proportions, the circumcised head, and the slight upward curve. Whatever. Right now, I was thrilled that Melissa seemed to like the way it looked.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked me, motioning toward a love seat across the room.

"Sure," I said, and she came over to me, took me by the hand, and led me over to it. She didn't add any extra swivel to her walk this time, but she didn't need to; I relished the view of her naked back and butt the whole way, and wished it had been a longer walk.

Melissa turned me around and pushed me gently, encouraging me to sit, and I did. Still standing, she bent down over me, put her hands behind my hips, and scooted me out a bit toward the edge of the couch. Then she spread my knees apart and knelt in front of me.

She looked up into my eyes as she ran both hands up the insides of my thighs, then pressed my perineum and lifted up my balls a little with both thumbs. Never taking her eyes off mine, she traced her tongue from the middle of my balls all the way up my shaft, then kissed my frenulum.

Smiling sultrily, she said, "One question before I pay up." Then she wrapped her lips around the top half of the head of my cock, sucked hard, flicked my frenulum again with her tongue, and pulled off.

I had to catch my breath a little before answering, and all I could think to say was "OK". At that moment I was ready to do almost anything for her.

She interlaced her question with attentions to my cock. "Is there anything I could do" --another tongue trace up my shaft --"to convince you" -- more tongue flicks on my frenulum -- "to do it anyway?" At this point, the head of my cock disappeared into her mouth, and her tongue wrapped circles around it.

I couldn't answer until she stopped. When she did a few seconds later, I said, "You mean, suck his cock even though I won the bet?"

Still more tonguing of my shaft, then, "Uh-huh. I'll pay up either way, but it could mean the difference between me sucking your cock" -- here she traced her tongue around the tip -- "and blowing your mind." She sucked a ball gently into her mouth and pulled back, stretching that side of my scrotum until the skin was tight around that ball, licked it, and let it go.

I tried to relax, willing myself to think clearly -- no easy task under the circumstances, because a powerful part of my being was screaming at me to do whatever she wanted, anything at all, just so I could have more of what she had teased me with. Just as I thought I might say no, Melissa held my cock sideways and slowly and deliciously corn-cobbed it from base to tip, still looking right at me and smiling with every part of her face that wasn't wrapped part-way around my pole. When I popped free, she said, "Whaddaya say?"

And then, just as I thought I might agree, inspiration struck. "Two conditions," I said, smiling back.

"Ooooh, driving a hard bargain, I see," she said.

Dan couldn't resist saying, "Yeah, it's hard all right."

Melissa ignored him and said, "Let's hear 'em."

"First," I said, "when I'm done, I want you to sit on my face until I make you come at least once."

She raised one eyebrow a little and her smile grew bigger. She glanced at Dan, who had moved over to sit beside me, presumably for a good view. He half-shrugged, half-nodded to say he was OK with it. "What's the second condition?" she asked, looking back to me.

"When you do start sucking me, don't stop until I ask you to."

She chuckled a little, then said, "You want to come more than once, huh?"

"Yeah," I said.

She apparently knew Dan would be OK with that, because she said promptly, "Deal!" A piece of my brain asked myself what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

Melissa practically jumped up, bent over Dan and kissed him deeply while she undid his belt and jeans. As soon as she had his zipper down, she grabbed his jeans and shorts and tugged them down; he raised his hips a little to help, and she whisked them off his legs and threw them aside. Then she moved back to me, ran a hand up the inside of my left thigh to my balls, continued tracing her fingers up my shaft, then caressed my stomach and chest. Then she took my hand and pulled me up off the couch.