Winter Mix Ch. 09: Cocoa

Roberta exclaimed, "Oh, that's good!" Underneath the table Barney suddenly felt her knees bump into his while her terry scuffs edged beside his wool socks and vised his feet. Meanwhile, after taking another drink, she continued, "I asked, because Mr. Maxon bought a pool table last month." Reaching across the table, she patted the teen's hand as she gently squeezed her spread calves against his legs and went on, "You probably saw it last night. Remember? We were dancing right beside it."

Barney was in agony. Instead of getting smaller and softer, his prick was as hard as stone and its eight fat inches had pushed up under his Hanes' briefs' waistband. Its sensitive frenulum chafed on the elastic. All this while Roberta talked and acted like nothing was happening. Feeling stuck to his straight chair's vinyl seat as if he were physically bound, he answered, meekly, "I remember, Mrs. M."

Roberta stood from her chair abruptly and said, "Great!" Picking her mug up from the table, she said, "I've got coasters. Bring your cocoa and come with me. I want you to teach me, so I can play with Mr. Maxon and not embarrass myself" As she exited the kitchen, she laughed over her shoulder, "One of my friends thought it would be easy and the first time she tried to shoot a ball, she ripped a hole in the table felt with her pool stick! Boy was her husband mad when the country club billed him for the repair!"

Barney was grateful to be two steps behind Roberta as they paraded down the hall. By the time they arrived, he had re-adjusted his cock at an angle toward his left hip. It was still an obvious log, but at least it did not hurt. He thought, "Maybe if I work it right, she won't see my boner until it has gone away." His mind argued with him, "That'll be hard. You know she isn't wearing much under her robe! What makes you think your dick will shrink?"

Barney valiantly tried to effectuate his plan as soon as he entered the family room. Putting down his Left-Winking Santa on the handiest end table, he strode purposefully to the pool table's spot-end and squatted low below the rail cushion with his knees spread. "Out of sight; out of mind," he told himself while he called out loud, "Roll the balls down to me, Mrs. M. The first thing we have to do is rack them up."

Pulling the triangle up from a hook under the table frame, Barney arranged the balls in the proper manner as Roberta sent them to him; solids alternated with stripes and the black eight-ball centered in the third row behind the triangle's apex. Still crouched with his softening penis invisible behind the big walnut table edge, he rolled the rack tight to the spot and lifted it from the balls with a flourish as he declared, "There! So this is what they should look like. Do you know the rules, Mrs. M.?"

"Yes, I think so, BeeBee," answered Roberta confidently. "I mean I read the book that came with the table. This looks like the game they described as 'Eight Ball' but you called it something else, I think. Anyway, what I really need help with is holding the pool stick and safely pointing it at the balls. I really must be able to at least do that competently, or Mr. Maxon will think I'm a nitwit!" She faked a nervous chuckle to impress the youth with his job's importance.

Barney checked his cock and was relieved to see it had relapsed into a more normal state. While he hung the rack back under the table, he pushed his dick back down into his underwear. He could not hide its bulky bulge, anymore than Roberta could disguise that she had her own bulky bulges, but at least his erection was gone. Standing up straight, he picked up the cue she had earlier left lying on the red baize and handed it to her.

"Here, Mrs. M.," Barney said. "Take this cue. That's what a 'pool stick' is properly called." As she received the long slim one-piece rock maple implement, she had to stop herself from taking a nearby chalk-cube, automatically dusting the cue's leather tip, and thereby giving up her elaborate pretense.

Barney placed the ivory cue ball on the scratch line at the table's other end from the rack and said, "This is where you start." Stepping behind Roberta, he stepped into his assigned coaching role and instructed, "Now, bend at your waist, lean over the table and I'll help you set a shooter's stance and bridge your cue."

Roberta carefully followed Barney's directions enough to show she was an apt pupil, but with sufficient awkwardness to hide her true expertise. He praised her, "That's pretty good, Mrs. M., but you're legs are too close together. You're off balance." Without being asked, he crouched, moved her left foot forward and her right foot back, then, with his left hand pushed onto her bottom, he centered her hips over her bent knees. While positioning her, he determined to a near certainty that she was wearing nothing under her housecoat and, again, his cock used the information to his discomfort.

Barney stood and said, "That's better. How does it feel to you?"

Roberta practically purred. "Oh yes, BeeBee. That feels so much better." She turned her head to him as she addressed the table with her left hand flat on the felt. Holding the cue's butt in a death-grip with her right hand, she laid the tapered shaft naturally across the webbing between her left thumb and forefinger, then asked, "Is this how I point it at the white ball?"

Barney chuckled lightly, with just a hint of superiority, "Well, you can do it that way. Sometimes you might have to, but usually you want to use a closed bridge." Stepping around her cloaked soft ass to stand by Roberta's left hip, he lifted her relaxed left hand and formed it into the classic 'OK' sign, then directed, "Now poke the tip through the hole and as the shaft slides forward you can open or close the loop around it as needed to control it."

Leaning forward over the table end himself, Barney draped his right arm across Roberta and guided her hand further up toward her from the cue's back end. As he did, he spoke quietly into her left ear, "Also, you want the cue to rest on your curled fingers. in a loose fist, while you keep your upper arm parallel to the floor so your forearm swings like a pendulum."

Roberta nudged her inside leg and hip against Barney as he maneuvered her. A warmth began settling in her tummy. Sighing slightly, she turned her face left and kissed his smooth clean-shaved cheek as she complimented, "You're a very good teacher, BeeBee. What do I do next?"

Roberta's sudden short-lived kiss seared Barney's jowl and singed his innards as if she had branded him like one of Ben Faber's cows on 'Rawhide'. He blinked and mumbled, "Thanks." Then, struggling to focus on her lesson, rather than her sensual proximity, he said, more clearly, "Now you aim the cue tip at the center of the cue-ball, line up the shaft with where you want to cue-ball to go, pull back the cue and then stroke it forward, hard. This is what's called the 'break shot' and you want the cue-ball to crash into the front ball in the rack, that's the purple four-ball in this case, as hard as you can to scatter the rest of them around the table. With luck you'll make one or more of the balls go into one of the pockets, and be able to continue shooting."

Roberta grinned and kissed Barney again, this time on his lips. "Okay, I think I've got the idea. But what's that blue cube over on the rail? Is it a marker or something?"

Barney was chagrined to have forgotten so important an item. Especially since Roberta had already told him about her friend and the ripped tablecloth. Quickly he walked around to the rail by the left side pocket and picked up the indicated cube. Returning, he said, "I'm sorry, I forgot to show you how to chalk your stick so the leather tip won't skid off the cue ball, like it did when your friend had her accident at the country club."

Roberta stood up straight and moved close to Barney. As she held the five-foot cue vertically with its butt on the carpet, she said breathily, "Oh? I need to do something to the, umm, tip?"

Barney stuck the cube's indented top over the cue-tip and covered it with a layer of fine blue chalk. "Alright, Mrs. M.," he declared. "You're set to go. Bend over the table again, line up your shot and break the rack. Hard!"

Roberta once more addressed the table, but before she shot, she looked back at Barney and asked plaintively, "Couldn't you help me a little bit on this first one? I'm a little bit nervous that I'll flub it up. Maybe if you stood behind me and held me steady?"

Barney was doubtful that would help Roberta's break shot, but his insistent dick and roiling gut were adding their two-cents worth to what sounded like a suggestion, but felt like an order. Re-positioning himself close behind her behind, he put his right hand on her right hip and his left hand on her mid-riff on her left side, then asked, "How's that?"

Roberta shook her head, no, and amended, "I still feel, oh, I don't know, sort of loosey-goosey. Especially up here by my left arm. Couldn't you, kind of, overlay my, umm... 'bridge' is it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Barney answered. He leaned over Roberta's stooped back until his chest lay almost on her. Inspired by her Chanel, he inhaled deeply. His inflating lungs closed the gap, which drew her body heat through her terry robe and his two shirts straight to his heart. Sliding his left hand over her ribs, he brushed her fullness en route to the hand clutching the cue's top while, at the same time, he pushed his right hand from her hip to her waist, then curled his arm and hugged her belly.

Unable to withstand the tension that had been building in him since he entered the house, Barney growled from the back of his throat, "I don't want to play pool, Mrs. M." Snapping upright, he spun her as he lifted her from her shooter's stance into a tight embrace. The cue clattered against the walnut then thudded softly onto the carpet as he reeled her in and heatedly kissed her mouth. She soughed through his teeth.

Breaking the kiss, but not the hug, Roberta hissed, "Don't let's wait, BeeBee! Do me! Take me here! Fuck me hard right now!" Frantically, she pushed away, lay back on the hard baize-covered slate and demanded, "Hurry!"

Roberta's fervor was a contagion to Barney, whose immune system had already been compromised. He skinned off his Levi's and underpants while she, unzipping her robe, spread it wide to display her banquet. Hunching in, he dove for her glistening coppery snatch and immediately latched on to her stout little man. She closed her thighs on his ears and kneaded her knuckles into his close-cut towhead scalp as her passion, increasingly pent over the past three hours, exploded.

Roberta closed her eyes and moaned appreciatively while Barney nuzzled her nub, then slipped his nose down her slit and plowed his honey-seeking tongue deep into her. He lapped her flowing nectar as her initial orgasmic wave built upon itself and sent heavier rollers to follow. Her pulse raced. Arching her back, she wanted more.

"In me! IN me! INNNN me!" Roberta shouted to the Tiffany lamp shades suspended above her head and the pool table. Not waiting for his response, she clutched Barney's armpits and tried to haul him onto her rocking boat. He ignored his pain as he banged his patellae and barked his shins on the walnut rails while crawling up onto the slate.

Grabbing her hips with both hands, Barney pulled Roberta toward him while he reared back on his haunches, narrowly missing striking his head on the closest leaded-glass shade. She raised her legs and folded her quads back to her elbows as he dragged her bottom upward onto his thighs. Lining his unbridged cue up with his object, he chalked its tip on her swollen clit then stroked through hard until his balls squashed against her upraised ass. She screeched her delight as his break shot smashed her rack and sent everything inside her flying.

Barney remembered how Roberta liked it when he thrust deep, then flexed against cunt roof as he slowly withdrew before plunging fast and furious to his limit again. She flopped her arms over her head. The pool balls rolled hither and yon as she smacked them with her uncontrolled wrists, sweeping over the red felt. He fought against her tugging Kegels and tore back into her with a vengeance.

Another crisis came and passed. Then a third and a fourth. Roberta had unleashed a glorious monster. She could not remember the last time her husband had filled her and pushed her over the edge like Barney was now doing.

Barney's knees were grated raw on the baize, which more suited to rolling clay balls than accommodating abrading flesh. The tops of his feet were bruised to their bones on the hardwood table frame. But still, he huffed, puffed, and stuffed away. Then, with a flashing surge from his very soul, he erupted.

Volley upon volley, Barney felt his throbbing cock shower Roberta's vessel with his virility. She bleated and moaned. Her brassy auburn head tossed from side to side sending balls to the cushions, only for them to carom back, bump into her head and be rolled away again. She agonized deliriously, "Will it ever stop? Oh, PLEASE God, don't let it stop!"

No deity could satisfy her fevered prayer. Only Nature saved her from destruction. Barney's powerful ejaculations ceased and, as he retreated from her leaking pussy, so too, did her climactic turbulence ebb to nothingness. Sweating, aching, exhausted, he fell across her heaving chest and they lay motionless, but for their breaths.