Pool Table Fuck with a Teen While Her BF Was Away

So, the pool table thing—yeah, that actually happened, and I’m still buzzing from it, holy shit. She was this tiny college girl, all smooth dark skin and this laugh that made me forget her boyfriend was even a factor, you know, off at some weekend thing, and we’d been flirting over shots, her hand on my thigh under the bar, and then we were alone in the back room, felt the worn felt scratch my knees as she hopped up, pulled her dress over her head like it was nothing, no bra, just her, and I’m buried in her, her legs locked around my waist, the wood groaning under us, my thumb working her clit until she’s biting her lip to keep quiet, then she flips onto her stomach and I’m grabbing her hips, that perfect arch, pounding her from behind while the balls clack in the corner pocket, and I came on her back with this stupid grunt, watching it drip down her spine, and she just rolled over, grinning, asked if her boyfriend’s cue stick was any better—goddamn, I almost died.