“Pool Party Time!” the e-vite had said. In February, no less. But when you opened the link, you found that billiards, not swimming, was the main attraction- there was a goofy Photo-shopped illustration of smiling pool balls, even.
Trust Evangeline to go all cutesy with her twenty-first birthday. Her Sweet Sixteen had taken pink and shiny to new heights- or new lows, depending on your tastes. But I suppose if you want to drag everyone all the way out to Queens for a get together, you need to pour on the gimmicks.
Not that I should talk. Staten Island isn’t that big of a prestige builder, address-wise. But in these trying times, none of my old Forest Hills gang had established themselves on the Upper East Side or anything. Life was nothing if not challenging, and a friend’s twenty-first was something to celebrate- even if we’d all been clubbing with fake ID’s for a few years now.
The party spot was actually pretty cool. The entire second floor of a good-sized building had been done up with pool and ping pong tables, several bars, comfy seating and giant-screen TVs. It was a neat place for a party- unlike some hot-stuff club where the music and crowd would have made conversation next to impossible, our old crowd could actually sit down together and get caught up on each other’s lives.
The newest, most exciting part of my life, of course, was obvious. Michael. Blonde hair rippling over his shoulders, tight black old school Levis…everything about him had my high school buddies taking notice. And in some cases, drooling- but the wonderful part was, Michael’s got a personality as charming as his hot good looks.
I’m not talking about surface charm, the kind any half-intelligent guy can fake. I’m talking about inner beauty, the kind where somebody actually has standards and lives up to them. Unlike many of the guys I’d met in my young life, Michael’s cock is connected to his heart and even his brain. He’s warm and funny and decent, and I still can’t believe I found a guy so sweet- and sexy.
That’s the other amazing thing. Underneath that civilized exterior, Michael is a horny beast with an untamed imagination. Every time we’re together, my panties are perpetually wet. At work, I find myself slipping off into daydreams about what we did the night before, what we might do that night, or just the existence of his velvety-hard, awesome self.
I’ve never been so happy, or so well-fucked. Never knew the kind of pleasurable heights we climb together were even possible. People remark on how good I’ve been looking. If they only knew why.
At the party, after I’d had a little while to say my hellos to everyone and grab a drink, he took my hand and tugged gently. I followed him through the crowd and to the far end of the club, where he showed me his discovery- a short hallway leading to a small room that was used to store supplies and a coat-rack that looked to be for the staff.
“This is pretty private back here,” I remarked. He was grinning at me. “Yep,” he said, sliding his arms around my waist from behind. “May not be all decorated up, but-”
They say great minds think alike. I took his hands in mine and moved them down a little to rest on my lower tummy, just grazing my mound. I was wearing a mid-thigh mini and a thong, and when I pressed back against him, I could feel him stiffen inside the tight jeans. He slid his hands down my thighs to the hem of my skirt and slid it up almost to my crotch, massaging my inner thighs lightly.
I couldn’t help grinding against him. If he’d wanted to bend me over and take my pussy right there, I would not have wanted to resist- but Michael was teasing, as he liked to do. “Not yet, my voracious tigress,” he chuckled, raising my skirt in the back so that my bottom was bared and smacking one cheek playfully. “We have to be good guests. We’d better get back out there and mingle.”
Reluctantly I stepped back and straightened my skirt. “Good guests could sneak back here again later, though,” I said.
“True. Why don’t we do that in about a half hour? Meanwhile, I bet I can beat Anastasia at eight-ball.”
“Huh. I don’t know. She’s legendary.”
Back out in the lounge area that was occupied by our party group, Anastasia, Evangeline and Nicki were gathered in a tight, giggly knot, their arms around each other. “Lynn!” Nicki yelled. “Get your butt over here, girl, it’s picture time!”
Michael peeled off to claim “next” on the pool table, and I went over and joined my old pals, putting my arm around Evy, grinning widely toward the girl holding up her camera phone. “Where have you been, hmmm?” Evy said in my ear. “And where’d you get him from? He’s gorgeous, Lynnie!”
“I know,” I said, ignoring her questions. Evy was a little bit of a feather head for my taste, albeit kind hearted. If deep thoughts were money, she’d qualify for welfare. As it is, her father’s trucking business pays her tabs, which may be why she’s never had to develop a lot of deep thoughts, focusing her energy mainly on sifting through the men she met for Someone Eligible. What-ever, as they say.
Michael was watching as we mugged for the camera, sticking our tongues out, posing flirtatiously. I winked at him. I knew how he loved seeing me have fun- and that he’d have one eye on the clock and be counting the minutes, as I was, until our planned rendezvous in that little back room.
Nicki and I grabbed beers and settled onto the couch as Michael hefted pool cues, carefully selecting one he liked, as his opponent racked up the balls. “He really is adorable, Lynn,” Nicki said. “And I love the way he looks at you, like you’re his favorite flavor of ice cream.”
“He’s my favorite flavor, that’s for sure,” I told her. “We’ve been seeing each other for two months, and we haven’t had a bad moment, really. I didn’t know there were any guys like that.”
“Well, in high school, there weren’t,” she observed. “Maybe the men our age are finally starting to grow up. Get seasoned.”
“Like a good soup? Or maybe age like fine wine.”
“Seriously. You’re lucky,” she said. Michael was leaning over to make a long shot, providing us with a wonderful view of his firm ass in the tight black jeans. “I’ll drink to that!” I said fervently, clicking my beer bottle against hers, and we laughed together.
Twenty minutes later, having demolished his first opponent, Michael graciously passed his winner’s turn to Evy. “To the birthday girl,” he said with a flourish. I was the only one who knew he had ulterior motives. His mind was on another game entirely. Trying to act extremely casual, I excused myself from Nicki- much as I love her, my mind had been elsewhere for the past few minutes- and slipped through the crowd toward the back room.
Michael was waiting there for me, sitting on a low box. “Hi,” I said, giggling a little as I sank into his lap to kiss him. “Do you think-”
“Sssh,” he said. “Stand up.” He turned me to face him and raised my tight skirt over my thighs and up to my waist, planting a sweet warm kiss on my panties. “I’m hungry, and the hors d’oeuvres out there just aren’t doing it.”
“Really…” I was trying to think of a witty comeback, but my thoughts scattered as he pulled my panties aside and sank his hot tongue into my slit, right at the top, going straight for my clit. I moaned and pulled his sweet silky head closer between my thighs, arching my back.
He could move that tongue almost like a vibrator, and I felt a gush of warm girl-juice soaking the crotch of my underwear. But as I started to grind my clit against his mouth, feeling as though I could come very soon indeed, he pulled away.