The Pool Table

"Jo, this is Andy," I said introducing my 34-year-old wife to my eighteen-year-old student.

Andy, looking trim in his white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, reached out a hand and shook with Jo, who was looking amazing tonight in the black silk Coco Chanel she'd bought with her Christmas bonus. I'd wondered if her choice of a £1,000 dress for a student event at my school was overdoing things, but I had to admit she looked drop dead gorgeous in it, and it matched her Jimmy Choo high heels and gave her an air of sophistication blended with slutty that turned admiring heads from my teacher colleagues and did my ego no harm at all when we entered the school gymnasium arm in arm to look over the artwork for an hour or so before we headed off to our dinner date at La Cave in town.

Andy was one of the term's surprises. A nice looking lad but all at sea when it came to making any kind of logical choices about his future. If you'd asked him in September what he wanted to do with his life, he'd have told you "I wanna be a pool player," and in truth he was easily the best player I'd ever seen if lunchtime games on the common room table upstairs were anything to go by. He'd racked up a fortune in games marked by as much sharp practice as skill, and now the common room was locked up and off limits to all students after numerous complaints from parents about their children losing vast sums of money to Andy in games of pool where he's typically give them one ball to pot against the rest of the rack for him and proceed to wipe the floor with them at odds of seven or eight to one. the head had been tempted to expel Andy back in October, but was persuaded not to partly by an impassioned plea from Andy's mother and partly because it would have got out that the head of history was in debt to the boy for the best part of £500 and couldn't pay him until at least December's payday.

Lately, Andy had sorted himself out, got himself a girlfriend, knuckled down and started to produce some surprisingly competent artwork. He painted in minimalist graffiti style, modelled on street art but using only two or three colours, and characterised by a wry sense of humour reminiscent of Banksy's early works. I didn't have too much to do with this being in a different department, but Pete, the head of art, had mentioned to me that he felt there was promise in the boy. In tonight's exhibition of student work Andy had no fewer than three pieces up on the wall, one of them an enormous brickwork piece that was almost an installation rather than a fine art statement. It dominated one end of the gym and Jo, who had been no mean painter herself at the time we'd met ten years before, went immediately over to take a closer look while I got us some drinks.

"Fuck me, Steve! Is that your wife? Lucky bastard, you are," said a voice. It was Darren McTeague, the IT guy. A real sleazebag, but someone you need to keep on the right side of it your work depended on a decent connection and up-to-date kit. His eyes had trailed Jo as she walked over to Andy's brickwork piece. I had to say I couldn't blame Darren, (although it would have been classier if he'd kept the lewd comments to himself). Jo did look hot as she glided over to the end of the room and stood there admiring the work and reading the little signs the students had erected.

"If ever you two feel like a threesome, do call me, won't you?" Darren leered. He laughed to himself as if this was the funniest comment since Wilde. I ignored him and took the two glasses of wine I'd poured over to where Jo was standing. We spent ten minutes making small talk with the little crowd of students. I noticed Hannah, the little redhead who slipped me notes every now and then. She was a sweet eighteen-year-old and if her notes were anything to go by she was certainly not lacking in imagination. I'd had five years of being a secondary school teacher and so Hannah was hardly the first girl to have had a crush on me, but she was the most persistent. I'd been foolish enough to find myself agreeing to help her after school with her homework on one occasion. She'd waited until the last of the other students in the after-school club had gone and then unbuttoned her blouse in front of me revealing her breasts. My throat had gone dry and she took advantage of my shock to take off her skirt too and walk over to me. I managed to convince her to put her clothes back on and somehow got out of the room without either compromising myself or (equally dangerous) humiliating her. But it disturbed me that the image of this undeniably stunning redhead, who had clearly wanted me to deflower her - and probably still did, still occasionally floated into my consciousness, and when it did I found myself noticeably aroused and wondering if I could have got away with fucking her and keeping it quiet. Unlikely, I decided.

Hannah was now in animated conversation with Jo, and they were both laughing at something. I became engrossed in a conversation to my left about connections between popular art and contemporary music and when I looked up, I saw Hannah had disappeared somewhere and Andy was talking to Jo instead. I watched my wife for a few minutes. She was looking gorgeous. Her below shoulder length blonde hair fell loosely over the back of her dress and her heels made her legs (her best feature) look even longer and sexier than usual. She spoke easily and confidently. She was knowledgeable about art and Andy seemed in the mood to listen.

A voice whispered in my ear "My cunt is wet for you, Mr. Davis. I know you want to penetrate me. Your wife is a lucky woman. But we can slip out to the girls' dorm and get this out of our systems. We could be back in ten minutes and no one ever need know."

I didn't need to turn to know that the voice was Hannah's. I could smell her perfume, and the faint aroma of red wine that hung on her breath.

"Hannah, I'm..."

"Shhhhh!" She put a finger on her lips and then moved it slowly to mine.

"Your wife said she's going to Copenhagen next weekend." I could come over to your house on Saturday night and keep you from getting lonely that night. What do you say?"

"Hannah, I really don't think..."

"Put these in your pocket. They're a present from me. I want you to have them. They're wet..." she said. I felt something small and silk being thrust into my hand. I looked down and saw they were a pair of panties.

"Pleasure yourself on them this week - to practice for Saturday, Mr. Davis. I want to feel your cock in my cunt. I want you to take my virginity and fill me with your cum!"

I reddened. But no one had seen us. We were half hidden by a large signboard. Before I knew what was happening Hannah leaned into me and kissed me on the mouth. It couldn't have lasted more than a second or two, but I felt her hot little tongue flick through my lips and run itself across my teeth. Instinctively, my own tongue met it. A millisecond or two. That was all it took.

I quickly slipped the panties into my jacket pocket. I'd have to get rid of them discreetly. For now I needed another drink. The last three minutes had seriously unnerved me. I looked back over to where Jo and Andy were still talking. They were obviously getting on fine and wouldn't miss me for a minute or two. I went over to the table, but they had run out of wine and were now just serving Sprite and 7 Up. I remembered there was a bottle of Chablis in the staff room fridge. The back stairs were locked but I had a master key and could get to the staff room quicker by taking the back stairs. I returned, Chablis in hand, five minutes later and went back to the serving table in the gym to get the corkscrew. A couple of glasses later, I had regained my composure. The Chablis was excellent, and although I figured it would be prudent to ask Jo to drive us to La Cave, now I'd had three glasses of wine, I felt a little more easy about the events of ten minutes ago.

I looked over to where Jo and Andy had last been standing. They were no longer there. I could see Hannah standing in the hall, looking sultry and provocative in her white blouse, red leather miniskirt and white sandals. Of all the people in the hall, and there were about three hundred by now, only Hannah and I knew that she was panty-less under that red skirt. I felt my cock stiffen at the thought. I knew I would find it hard to keep the resolution. Thoughts would spin through my head, about how many forty-year-old men would kill for the opportunity to fuck this eighteen-year-old virgin who was coming onto me like a ton of bricks. But I also knew it was reckless beyond belief. I had to resist.

I decided to return the bottle to the staff room. I went back up the back stairs and as I did I noticed the metal trellis gate across the stairs that led to the seniors' common room had been unpadlocked. I was sure I would have noticed that before so I quickly put the bottle back in the staffroom fridge and then went back to investigate. Sure enough, someone was in the common room. I could hear the pool table balls falling into place. Someone was up there and getting ready to play a game of pool!

The door at the top of the stairs was locked, but there was a corridor along the side that had a small window at the end that looked onto the common room. I felt my way along the corridor in the semi-darkness and climbed onto the radiator to see through the window. The common room was lit by a single bulb in the corner of the room that served as a kitchen. But unmistakably the two occupants were Jo and Andy. Jo had slipped off her shoes and Andy was shirtless. I listened hard. Andy was talking. He was describing a bet about playing pool. I could hear the last words

"...so all you have to do is sink one ball - any ball. I have to sink all of them. If you win, you get £500."

"And what if you win?" asked Jo.

"Well, then we play another game of pool but this time you play it topless for me."

"What! No way! You have a dirty mind, Andy!"

"Course I do, Mrs. Davis. Anyone would have a dirty mind looking at you looking like that. You're white hot. Any boy my age would fancy you. But I just wanna see your tits."

I had to stifle a laugh. The boy was nothing if not honest. Jo was laughing too.

"Anyway, you've seen me topless, so it's only fair!" Andy continued. But I could see Jo was thinking.

"£500? Seriously?" she said.

"Yes. Here it is. I'll put it in your shoe. I trust you to give it back to me if I win," said Andy lifting up one of her shoes.

So what had I missed, I wondered, that led to my wife taking off her shoes and this boy carrying them for her while they walked up the back stairs to the common room tat was supposed to be out of bounds but to which, somehow, Andy had obtained access - and locked the door? In addition to which, he had taken his shirt off and was now making my wife a proposition that if it went the way it was bound to, would lead to her showing this randy eighteen-year-old her tits.

"Ok, you're on." said Jo. "But I warn you, I do know how to play."

"OK, then. You break." said Andy.

The next five minutes were incredible. Jo broke and that was the last shot she played. Andy cleared the entire table in one visit, potting with consummate ease, and in two cases doubling off the cushion with audacious shots I'd last seen the like of in The Color of Money.

As the black sank into the side pocket and the cue ball came to rest dead centre, Andy turned to Jo.

"So, how we going to do this?" he asked.

"I guess, I'll just have to take this dress off." said Jo, matter of factly. Unzip me.

It was obvious she had resigned herself to what was bound to happen as soon as the first three or four balls had gone in. Andy was never going to miss, and she had promised him this as her stake. I watched Andy unzip the dress that only two hours before I had zipped up myself. Jo slipped the dress off over her head and folded it neatly before placing it on a chair nearby. She turned to face him, her nipples erect in the cool night air. Naked except for her panties, her earrings and her wedding band.

Andy eyed her up and down.

"You have the most magnificent tits I have ever seen, Mrs, Davis." he said. Then he nodded to the table. "Set 'em up. I have a feeling I'm going to remember this game for a long time to come and it might last a lot longer than the last game."

I remembered Andy once keeping a game going for an entire hour as part of another bet. I'd not known this was a thing, but apparently, the skill required in prolonging a game of pool is equal to the skill required to finish one quickly. Jo seemed to sense how this could go.

"My husband will be waiting," said Jo. "Is there something quicker we could do?"

Andy smiled. "Well, Mrs. Davis. You could let me kiss them. Then you could go."

He stepped up close to her. I could see her take a step backwards to the pool table. This wasn't something she had reckoned on.

"No, I don't think so," she began, but he already had a hand up and was fingering her left nipple. She gave out a soft moan. Her left nipple was her most erogenous zone, and she was at her most fertile right now. She was always much more easily turned on, I'd found, when she was ovulating.

He stepped in and spoke into her ear, but I could hear every word.

"Just five minutes. A few kisses, and then you can keep what's in your shoe. I can win more anytime, but the chance to kiss breasts as perfect as yours will never come again in my lifetime, Mrs. Davis. Just let me do this."

He put a hand behind her head and his fingers closed around her hair as his mouth descended on her breast. Jo stiffened and then suddenly moaned and leaned backwards as his tongue flicked her nipple and he drew it into his mouth a began sucking on it.

As Jo leaned back he pushed her onto the pool table and lifted her with an arm under her thighs. She sat on the pool table cushion as his tongue went to work on her breast, kissing, nibbling, sucking and licking it while she groaned aloud with her eyes closed, and put one had behind her onto the green baize while the other held his head against her breast.

"Oh god!" I heard her softly moan. "Oh god, that feels good."

He moved onto the right breast and as he did so he pushed her gently down flat onto the table. Her head knocked the cue ball into a pocket and he leant down to suck at her right nipple while his hand gently squeezed and pinched her left.

Jo wriggled to get more comfortable and he pushed her further up the table. Her panties had now come away and were halfway down her thighs. She hadn't seemed to notice, but Andy had. He pulled his belt open and undid his top button. His jeans slid down to his ankles and his boxers with them. He raised himself onto the table and gently lowered himself down onto the prostrate body of my wife resuming his tongue work on her nipples and now subtly grinding his groin into hers. Her panties had come down to her ankles. I watched as she opened her legs and they hung from one ankle as she moved her knees up and crossed her feet across his buttocks. He was now grinding into her and she was gasping "Don't stop! Don't stop" as he sucked hard at her breasts.

Then came the moment that I think I will never forget. I saw her hand reach under her and her fingers grasped his cock. She positioned his cock against her vaginal lips and he slid across them in a series of cock strokes. She loves this move. It's even better than penetration for her, especially when her clitoris is distended, as it is when she's ovulating.

"Oh god, don't stop. Don't stop. I'm nearly cumming" Jo gasped and Andy continued to grind into her. Her legs squeezed his ass, and then I saw her head shake violently from side to side and I knew she was having an immense orgasm.

It was at that moment, Andy seized his chance. He subtly repositioned his cock and drove it into her. Just an inch at first but as her eyes glazed over in the ecstasy of her orgasm he pushed his naked member deeper and deeper into her.

"I'm fucking you, Mrs. Davis," he said. "How does it feel?"

"It feels wonderful, Andy," said Jo. Just don't cum inside me."

"Are you on the pill?"

"No. In fact I'm ovulating. don't cum inside me, but don't stop either. It feels amazing" said Jo.

Their mouths locked as they kissed in a frenzied passion. Andy started pumping her harder and harder and Jo moaned again as another enormous wave of orgasms enveloped her whole body.

"I'm going to cum, Mrs. Davis", said Andy. And then he thrust deeper into her as grunted a gutteral and base noise as his seed spurted into her. He repeated the grunt twelve times as twelve spurts of white semen jetted from his cock deep into my wife's cunt. Her ankles were locked over his ass and she moaned with every spurt.

They kissed passionately for minutes afterwards and then, exhausted, they rolled apart and turned to face each other.

"That was amazing, Mrs. Davis. Can we do that again, sometime?"

Jo, shook her head. "No, Andy. That was strictly a one-off," she said. "But I'll never forget it."

They kissed again, and then Jo got up, pulled her panties on, unfolded her dress slipped it back on and asked him to zip it up again. She took the £500 and gave it back to Andy.

"I'm no whore, Andy" she said.

She slipped the shoes back on and then took the key he offered her and let herself out.

I made my way back to the gym by another route and pretended to have been there all the time.

"Jo, darling!" I greeted her. "Come on, let's go or we'll be late for our reservation.

All through dinner I imagined the scene I had just witnessed. And when around midnight that night we got home, I waited in bed while she showered, and then took her with a passion that surprised us both.

We both came tumultuously that night - and multiple times. But I have to confess the third time I came that night I was imaging the woman on top of me grinding into me cowgirl style was not Jo, but Hannah.

And at least once I heard her unwittingly murmur "Andy" in my ear as she came under my thrusts.