Life's a game

Life's a game, and you don't win it by watching. I told Bridgett that over the green felt of the snooker table. She got the message. She sank the first shot, then took my wrist, pulled me close, and kissed me hard enough to taste the chalk on my lips. My shorts came off next. She bent me over the rail, ran both palms across my ass, squeezed, spread, and pressed her mouth between my cheeks before I could catch my breath. Her tongue worked slow circles, then slipped lower, tasting every inch she could reach. When she stood, she slid two fingers inside me, knuckles deep, and pumped them until my thighs shook against the polished wood. She spun me around, lifted my leg onto the table, and ground her cunt against mine until the cue balls rattled. We came like that, legs locked, sweat on the green cloth, hearts still racing from the game neither of us finished.