Pool pussy

She stands poolside, one hand on her hip, the other gripping the cue like she already owns it. White shorts cling to her skin, barely covering the curve of her ass. Her blonde hair catches the light, the ends brushing sun-warmed shoulders. She leans over the table, legs parted, and slides the shaft between her fingers. The tip lines up with the pocket, her wrist snaps, and the balls crack across green felt. When the cue rests against the rail, her free hand drifts lower. Fingers slip inside those tight shorts. She stays bent, cue hand steady, while the other works between her thighs. Her breath catches. The fabric stretches. A soft, wet sound rises each time she pushes deeper. She doesn't look away from the table. Another slow stroke of the cue, another slow rub of her clit. The shorts ride higher. Her hips roll with the motion. The balls sit still. She doesn't notice. All she feels is that hard, steady pressure and the quiet ache she keeps feeding with every lazy thrust of her fingers.