I admire Stacie as she plans the shot, taking way too much time for my benefit, her breasts swaying loose beneath her blue and white striped cardigan, her ass wiggling beneath her short denim skirt, her long dark pony tail aching to be pulled.

Such good fortune that nobody else had wanted to play pool, my kids, Stacie's kids, my wife, and Stacie's husband, all wonderfully otherwise occupied upstairs.

I stick my cue out, delicately touching the inside of Stacie's left ankle, running it lightly up her leg to her knee, barely challenging the hem of her skirt. She shivers, and sinks the shot. She is good. Damn good. And very very bad, wiggling her ass at me in an obscene little victory dance. Slowly I reach out with the cue, a measured half swing that would sting like hell if I landed it with any force. She growls, and turns to look at me, unbuttoning one button on the cardigan before moving around the table, calculating odds, angles, and sex appeal all at the same time.

Facing me across the table she aims carefully for the side pocket, the pocket directly in front of where I am standing, staring at the cue ball, at the seven ball, at the pocket, and my hips, her dangling long-nippled breasts very visible within the confines of her partially unbuttoned sweater.

I swing my hips in a lewd pantomime of fucking, of fucking her specifically, my hands out in the air as though holding her hips, my cock pressed hard against my jeans. She licks her lips, raises the stick to her mouth and pantomimes blowing me before leaning forward. My hip movements are distracting her, but not enough. The stick kisses the cue ball, the cue ball hits the seven ball, and the seven ball drops gently into the pocket in front of me.

The cue ball is now on my side of the table. The eight ball, the only ball she has left to sink is on the other side. She must come to me now. I will not move. I stand my ground. She saunters over, squeezes in between me and the table, leans over to take the shot, her skirt riding up on her delectable ass. I smack it again. Hard enough to sting this time. Again she ignores me. Again she sinks the shot with calm cool professionalism, and then starts to do her little victory wiggle again.

Fuck that nonsense.

I push her down into the table with my left hand, and then in a few deft one-handed motions whip a condom out of my pocket, unfasten and drop my pants to the floor, open the package with my teeth, roll the condom on and reach up under her skirt, forcing her legs apart, and forcing my cock into her already sopping wet cunt.

She gasps.

I am home.

Wherever we are, whoever we are with when I enter her from behind, I am home.

Now that I am inside her and she is beyond protest I bring both hands to her hips and begin to swing my own hips back and forth just as I had pantomimed, just as I had promised. Her promise of a blowjob will have to wait until later.

This is heaven and right I do not give a fuck who else is in the house, who else catches us, whether they come down the stairs or gather in a crowd in the dark outside the sliding glass doors of the rec room. I am fucking her, and that is all that matters, fucking her bent over her husband's big extravagant expensive pool table, her breasts rubbing against his newly installed green felt, moaning and whimpering as she slides back and forth surrounded by his $100 impulse buy of new pool balls, my balls slapping against her cunt as I fuck her, my hands leaving red fingerprints on her hips as I grasp her, as I take her, as I pound her, as I screw her, as we tense, as we quiver, as we grunt, as we come, as we come, as we come, as I collapse on top of her, and we begin to giggle ferociously at our shared insanity, when my wife's voice comes from above "Hey guys, we're about ready to watch the movie. Come on up."

Straightening up, but not yet pulling up my pants I reach under Stacie's skirt with my left hand, running it up and down her cunt as I yell back "Just a minute honey, game's almost over."

Stacie starts to scream and I cover her mouth quickly with my hand sloppy with her juices and let her lick my palm and fingers, mewing appreciatively as I begin to finger her again with the right hand, concentrating this time on her engorged and overly sensitive clit.

It is too much for her. She stands up, whips around, pushes me back, drops to her knees, removes the condom from my cock and takes me in her mouth. That is too much for me I drag her up and kiss her hard, my pants still on the floor.

Finally, and very reluctantly I pull up my pants, fasten them, and yell in the general direction of the stairs, "Hold on babe, game's over, here we come."