Pool hall – new free erotic fiction from Fulani

What follows is a true story. It didn’t happen to either of us, but it did happen to a friend of Fulani’s, a few years back. Still no BDSM content, which is unusual for him! Maybe next time. Names have been changed to protect the guilty…


I didn’t give it a second thought. We’d been out clubbing. Left the club at three when it closed, but on a wave of excitement, dance beats and cool moves, we wanted more. So we, Anja and I, went to the pool hall.

Playing pool requires you to bend over the table. I was wearing a dress that would have been pretty normal for Second Life. In real life it meant that bending over got me a lot of attention because it put most of my ass on show, along with the tiny G-string I was wearing.

I’d retained enough sanity to know I’m not that good at pool. I avoided the guys who wanted to stand close behind me while showing me how to use the cue. I turned down the offer of someone who said he’d take my shots for me if he could shoot in me afterwards – he wasn’t bad-looking, just crass.
So we, Anja and I, found ourselves sitting in one of the side booths with Gray and Tony. She knew them, said they were OK guys and trustworthy. I think she said trustworthy. Maybe it was fuckworthy. My ears were still ringing from the club.

The booth has these plush bench double seats and high backs on them, facing each other across a polished wood table. The lighting’s low, almost non-existent apart from the glow reflecting off the rings of liquid where bottles and glasses have been put down on it. I’m sitting opposite Gray and next to Anja, and listening to Gray who’s talking about being out for the evening on the pull because his wife is a lesbian and she’s out at a club herself tonight.
And I scoff and say ‘my wife’s a lesbian’ is inventive as a pickup line, but it doesn’t do anything for me. Then Anja says it’s right, his wife is a lesbian.
I give her the dead eye stare and she explains.

‘You know some men are gay, right, but they try to deny it and get married and have kids and stuff. Then a few years down the line they decide they can’t suppress their real identity any more?’

Yes, I know about that.

‘Well it happens to women too. And it happened with Gray’s wife. She won’t even give him a blowjob. I’ve met her. She’s called Roxanne. She wanted me to go to clubbing with her one time. Then she fistfucked me right in the club.’

Anja never learned much about social skills, about what’s a good thing not to say in certain company. And I don’t think Gray had ever heard that story before. Eyebrows crawling over his face like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

And I notice Anja has both her hands under the table, her upper arms rubbing against the edge of it.

I don’t even think about what I do next. It just kind of happened. The seats aren’t that deep so it was easy to slide off and crouch underneath it, where I can see Anja’s hands stroking Tony’s cock which is out and free of his jeans. And I unzip the fly of Gray’s jeans to release an organ the colour of boiled lobster.

No underwear.

So is he just pleased to see me, or does he truly get off on his wife being a lesbian? I have no idea. I don’t care, really.

Then: oops, I seem to have the head of his dick in my mouth. Fortunately it tastes of soap, not boiled lobster.

Work it back and forth, getting some lubrication going. Use one hand to tug at his jeans and free his balls as well, cup them in my hand, get the middle finger of the left hand underneath them, the sweet spot that stimulates the prostate. Use the other to squeeze his shaft to the rhythm of a track that’s still in my mind from the club, earlier.

I’ve done this before. You can tell, can’t you? Gray certainly can. I’m under the table but I can gauge his reaction not just from the way his cock strains and pulses, but the trembling in his thighs and the way his breathing changes.

This all goes on a long time, with me bobbing my head up and down, creating a pressure seal with my lips and sucking so hard there’s almost a vacuum inside my mouth. And I’m driving the cock to the back of my mouth, and wrapping my tongue around it like a big meaty lollipop.

A lot of men say a tongue piercing gives a hell of a lot more stimulation. I wouldn’t know. I got mine done a few weeks before I gave anyone a blowjob.

I’m dizzy with oxygen starvation but I can feel him on the edge, nearly coming, the veins engorged and pulsing, and then he pops and I’ve got all his sticky goop in my mouth.

I roll it around there. When I finally emerge from under the table, I open my mouth to show him, laughing because he’s still bug-eyed. Then I spit it into my almost-empty beer glass.

The thing about a blowjob is, you focus on the cock in your mouth and can’t see much. Especially under the table in a dark pool hall. So I have no idea what happened with Anja and Tony, except, Anja is trying to wipe spunk off her wrists with a tissue.

After that we say goodbye to the guys and go home. Because it’s gone four in the morning, and we don’t want to take them home with us.
On the way out I can’t resist pointing out to Anja she’s got spunk on the hem of her dress. She can’t resist pointing out to me I have it on my cheek.

I stay over at hers because it’s a shorter taxi ride.

And I keep thinking. I’m not lesbian. You’ll have noticed that, I guess. Maybe I’m bisexual. A bona fide lesbian experience would be a whole new world. Anja and I spoon up in her bed. We kiss and stuff, but it’s just being close and a bit flirty and we still have our underwear on. And we’re both still feeling juicy. Neither she not I actually came while we were out. Handjob and blowjob, that’s just a bit of fun.

I make her tell me about the fistfuck, and where the club is. And I can feel her squirming while she’s telling me about it, how it made her feel, how strong the climax was. I squirm back at her, ask her when she’s going again, and she says Roxanne’s taking her next week. If she wears a collar and leash.

Could be interesting.

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