Cursing the Six

I suspect every husband knows the sound – the sound his wife makes when he enters her. And right now, as I heard that sound, I looked across the pool table to where it was happening. Then I went back to work, trying to figure out how to get all these balls into pockets before he came. I'm sure that comment makes no sense, so I should probably go back to the beginning.

We have a cabin in a mountain retreat near our home. There is skiing in the winter time, and in the summer you can escape from the heat. When we got the cabin, it needed some work, new tile, new decks, a new bathroom, paint. We were very proud to say we did all the work ourselves – except the trees. There were a number of trees on the property that had to come down, either because they had died or they were growing up against the house. Sarah got a tree recommendation from someone, and so Josh came over.

That was how it all started. When he arrived, I think he could have sold her anything. Anything. He was strikingly attractive. We actually didn't look all that different, I guess; boyish, dark hair, and so on. But he worked outside, with his hands, all day long, and had the build to show for it. Even more than that, he had these striking, pale blue eyes with long dark lashes. On top of that, he was funny and kind and engaging. She was smitten. As you can imagine we chose him to do the work (yes, in part so she could watch him). We were in no particular hurry, so he asked if he could use us as fill-in work. As a result, they did the trees a little at a time, at the end of the day when they finished other jobs early, over a period of several weeks. And every time he came by, she rushed out to watch. And every time, it seemed like he sent his crew home and stayed with us, chatting on our stone wall. They always seemed to end up sitting side-by-side. She always seemed to laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, toss her hair. You know what I mean.

The last time he came by, we wrote him his last check, chatted for a while, and had a couple beers after the crew left. Finally he too climbed in his truck and drove away. She watched him leave, and sort of sighed, and we went back inside. Hardly had the screen door closed behind me than she was up against me. She wasn't usually the aggressor, and I knew immediately what had fueled it, but it's not like I was going to argue. Within moments our clothes were flying, her skirt and blouse over the back of the couch, her panties just inside the bedroom, and with my pants around my ankles I was lining up and sliding it home.

Suddenly, we heard the screen door opening, and as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Josh standing right behind me. He looked surprised, to be sure, but also amused. As Sarah became aware of him and started to cry out in shock, he fished a camera out of his pocket and began snapping away. "Stop that!" she cried, as we frantically separated. She covered herself with her hands as best she could, grabbing her clothes and diving into the bedroom and slamming the door. He just kept right on snapping and chuckling as I pulled my pants up.

Sarah came out of the bedroom with her skirt and blouse put back together, but a sheepish look on her face. Her red hair was a little mussed up, but the short skirt and the simple blouse looked great on her small frame. Even in her haste she had tucked the blouse in, which seemed to emphasize her small waist. "Guess we should have closed the door, huh?" she said to more chuckling from him.

"No, no, that was great! Those pictures are going to warm my nights for months!" he replied. "Just let me know when you plan to leave the door open again."

Sarah was silent for a second, then wandered deeper into the house. It was clear she was trying to gather herself. I have to admit I was having trouble finding my voice, as the situation had turned me on just a little bit. And the idea he would get off on pictures of her was also getting to me. I knew she wouldn't like that idea a bit, but I thought for now I'd just leave it alone as Josh and I followed her. Finally she stopped in the back room, turning toward us. She leaned heavily on the pool table. "Look, okay, you had your fun. But I can't handle the idea of those pictures being out there somewhere. Now, I thought we'd become friends. Couldn't you just delete them?" She sucked in her lower lip and suddenly had a very girlish appearance. "Please?"

He stared at her for a long time. Shaking his head, he walked past me toward the table, and idly picked up a cue. He seemed just as lost in thought as she had been. Finally he looked at her. "Tell you what we'll do," he said, looking Sarah right in the eye. "I'd like to help you, but you have to make it worth my while. And seeing that... I have to tell you, it got to me. So I'm thinking I need at least an opportunity for gain from this. So the pool table here gives me an idea. I'll break. Then I'll give Ian a number. He sinks that ball, I'll give him another. He sinks them all, I leave, and I'll leave my camera here. So with some skill and a little luck, no harm no foul. But if he misses, I'll take something off you. Next miss, I'll take something off me. And as soon as I'm able, I plan to start slamming you myself. And I'll keep slamming you until he sinks all the balls. What do you say? Or, I can just leave now, and proceed with my original plan."

I started to react about halfway through this little speech, but Sarah held up her hand to quiet me. Once he stopped talking the room was silent. She stood there, her hand up toward me, the two of them looking straight into each others' eyes. I looked from one to the other, waiting for a reaction. Just when I could stand it no longer and started to speak, she stirred.

"Deal" she said. "Break."

"What!" I shouted. "No, no, this is ridiculous. Look, forget it. There must be..."

I ran out of steam when I realized no one was paying me any attention. Josh finished racking the balls, and set the triangle on the wooden bar. Sarah stood, legs slightly apart, leaning forward with both hands on the far end of the table, staring intently at the little gathering of balls. "There's no other way. Just accept it. And shoot straight," she mumbled, as he pulled back the cue and struck.

There was a crack as the cue ball hit the grouping, and balls spread all over the table. In all the ricochets and bounces off the rails, two balls actually fell into pockets. "Look there," he said, "I gave you a head start." He handed me the cue and walked around the table, standing right behind Sarah. "Ten ball, any pocket," he said.

I stood dumbfounded, still holding the cue stupidly. Sarah finally looked up from the table. She seemed to shudder slightly, though whether it was nerves or excitement I couldn't tell. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at Josh, then looked at me, and nodded. I shook my head in reply, but she switched to a pained expression and pleaded with her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, I glanced at the table to see what I had to do.

Thankfully, the ten was a straight shot into the corner. I leaned over the table, and took aim, realizing I had to look right at the two of them as I shot. I drew back the cue a couple times to practice, and realized my hands were shaking. I could see him whispering to her. She was shaking her head gently as I took a deep breath, drew back, and struck. Amazingly, it went just as I planned, and the 10 rolled into the corner pocket.

He moved up close behind her, placing his head up over her shoulder. "Too bad," he said, switching to a stage whisper. "I was enjoying my thoughts from back here." He studied the table, leaning his body up against her back, and I saw her eyes close. His hands were on top of hers on the rail of the table, and he held them there as he studied the table over her shoulder. "Nine ball," he continued.

Now I really got nervous. This would require a bank shot. Just one bank, but not my best shot at all. I had to move right next to them to line up the cue, and as I bent to aim I heard her draw in her breath. Looking to my right, I saw he was now playing with the feathers on her neck. Knowing how much that got to her, I swallowed hard, looked again down the cue, and struck.

In fairness, it was very close. I actually thought it was going to go in. The line was perfect, but it just didn't have quite enough oomph. The nine stopped just shy of the pocket.

The room was silent. I was pretty sure Sarah had put her bra back on, so I didn't think this would reveal anything really, but my mouth went dry when I realized that if he took off her blouse he would be seeing the whole of her back, and the curve of her collar bones. The skin on her back is so sensitive, and he had already shown his willingness to use gentle stroking against her. I tried to figure out if I could stop it somehow.

As I was thinking, I heard her breath draw in again, and I glanced quickly to my right, not sure if I wanted to see it. That's when I realized I was in even more trouble then I thought. Under the circumstances, I don't know where I got the idea he would do this in some civilized order, but he had other ideas. He paid no attention to her blouse at all. Instead, I saw his hands were hidden under her skirt, and shortly they appeared, drawing her panties down. The flimsy lace reached the ground, and she stepped daintily out of them, leaving Josh to nonchalantly toss them up onto the bar by the triangle. Sarah was carefully avoiding eye contact with me, but he returned my gaze with a slight smile and a brief shrug. I was sure he knew what I'd been thinking.

"Nine ball again," he said. Josh moved beside her now. He stood with his arm around the small of her back, she continuing to stare at the table, while he now started feathering his fingers around her thighs at the bottom of her skirt. I walked around behind them and to the other side of the table, lined up, and tapped the ball on in. When I looked back to see what he wanted next, the two of them continued to stare at the table. But his hand had moved down, and was clearly now feathering around on the bare skin under the back of her skirt. She glanced at me guiltily, but then closed her eyes. "Six," he announced.

This would be another straight shot, back into the corner right by them. But this time, I would have to make it while I watched him feel up my wife's bare ass. Now the cue was really shaking, and the more I studied the shot the bolder he became. He moved around behind her again, and with both hands raised her skirt up her sides until it was turned upside down, still around her waist but flipped up all the way around. There in my peripheral vision were the blades of her hips, possibly my favorite feature, and the red patch between. His hands began stroking the skin on her hips gently. As I drew back the cue, he switched to a tight grip on her hips, and he began grinding against her. I paused, and saw her head move as she looked straight down, and she began pushing herself back against him. Desperate to break the mood, I aimed and shot. And with everything going on...I missed badly.

Sarah had opened her eyes when she heard the click of the balls. I saw her eyes get big when the six bounced off the rail a few inches from the pocket, and stopped. Josh stopped grinding and chuckled, and I heard his belt jingling. As I had feared, he was going right for the action. I heard his zipper, and then his pants were visible falling between Sarah's legs. I closed my eyes a moment to gather myself, and when I reopened them I realized how bad it really was. Twelve balls to go, and he was able to carry out the threat – the man wore no underwear.

I saw Sarah feel the reality I was now aware of as his hands closed back around her hips. He began bending her forward onto the table, and then removed one hand to begin lining himself up. "Wait," I said, "let me go get a condom for you."

"Not part of the deal," he said. I began to panic a little. We had never decided for sure if we wanted to stop having children, but lately we had been thinking maybe we wanted another. So, Sarah was no longer on the pill. And part of the thrill that had fueled our earlier passion was the knowledge that we were playing with fire. I was sure she would also be panicking, and would never let him in, when instead I heard her begin to make the groaning, moaning noise I knew so well. He was sliding into her. I stared, dumbfounded, until I saw him hit bottom, the slap of his hips against her skin announcing that he was all the way in. "Oh God," Sarah moaned, and he looked over her slim back at me and smiled.

"I guess these things don't matter any more, do they?" he said, and began to pull off his shirt. Then he stood her back up, and began unbuttoning her blouse. "You can sink any ball you want," he said as he undid her bra. He pushed her back down toward the table, his hands gripping her hips, and started to piston himself into her as she moaned. "I'll just sink mine in her while you do. And if you're worried about a condom, sport, I suggest you hurry. This here is pretty tight." With that, he put down his head and began driving into her in earnest.

I lined up again on the six, and cleaned it up. I moved my gaze to the next shot, but I was distracted by Sarah's moans and transfixed by her breasts swinging beneath her with each thrust, and I missed again. Drawing in a deep breath, I gathered myself and sank three more in short order. He pulled out of her, and drew himself down in a nearby chair. Spinning her around, he lowered her back onto himself, and she began taking the lead. In this position, I could see him alternately drawing out and disappearing back into her. On each outward stroke, I could see her lips pulling out from her body along his shaft. Soon I could tell from her breathing what was coming (so to speak). Sure enough, as I sank the next one, she curled up against his chest, crying out for him to stop. I lined up and dropped another one as he gave her a moment, and another as he guided her onto her back on the floor beside me and began to put it to her in her favorite way: missionary.

I was down to only two more, and her moans were becoming more frantic again. Worse, he was beginning to groan loudly. I sank one, but began missing regularly with the last ball. Finally, I sank it. Just as it fell off the table and into the pocket, Josh cried out and pressed himself deeply into her, while she began spasming and writhing again underneath him. I could see all the muscles along his back tensed and coiled as he held himself all the way in, and the spasmodic way he tossed his head indicated each jet into her.

Josh extracted himself from her, and when I told him in a small voice that I was finished he gathered his clothes and left. The camera was left on the bar beside me. I looked down at Sarah. She lay still on the floor, naked but for the wadded up skirt left around her waist, her legs spread wide. Her left arm was thrown over her eyes, and she glistened with sweat from their combined exertions. I could see his fluid running out between her legs, and I realized I was totally turned on. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I dropped to my knees between her legs, unzipped, and went for it. I was rewarded immediately with the familiar sound she makes as I slid in, easy with her new lubrication. Very shortly I was adding my own.

These events come back to my mind frequently, even now, a year later. My son is three months old now. At least, I think of him that way.