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Message-ID: <31977asstr$997794602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} Betting on Eight Ball (MF oral)  
Date: Tue, 14 Aug 2001 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts.
Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable,
or violates laws in your part of the world.

I'm running an online poll along with this story,
so check out the URL at the end.

This story is Copyright 2001 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

BETTING ON EIGHT BALL 

Black and shiny, the toy formed a perfect round bulge in Gerald
Maytag's lap. Maytag's partner, Heather Stanton, saw it clearly,
and knew what it was. After all, she was there when he bought it,
and she had used one herself when she was younger. She almost
wanted to run a fingernail over its smooth surface. 

"Bad enough that you bought that," Stanton said. "Did you have to
bring it to the conference?" 

Between his legs, Maytag took hold of the toy with two hands and
gave it a vigorous shake. He looked at Stanton, a goofy grin
weaving across his face. "Better not tell you now," he said. 

"Great," Stanton sighed. "The magic eight ball is as informative
as always." Stanton slumped in her chair and wrapped her arms
around herself. A chill ran over her. Being in Texas, in August,
Stanton wore a light summer dress. She had planned for sun soaked
heat, not air conditioned hotel banquet rooms. As a result she
was freezing. She wasn't the only one. 

A blonde sitting across the center aisle from her was also busy
rubbing her arms. The blonde wore her hair up, and had on simple
black slacks, tight around the waist, and a powder blue taffeta
vest. She wore no shirt under the vest, so that her arms and
shoulders and a great expanse of neckline were bare. It did a
nice job showing off her tan, but left her exposed to the
overactive cooling system of the hotel. The blonde succumbed,
pulling a black sweater from her hand bag and rushing to put it
on. 

Stanton turned to her partner. "Don't men like seeing women's
flesh?" 

Maytag consulted the eight ball. "All signs point to yes." 

"Then why do men watch in restaurants and other places as woman
after woman puts on heavier clothing, without complaining to
someone in charge to turn off the damn air conditioner?" 

"Ask again later." 

"What a copout. I can't get a straight answer out of that thing,
can I?" 

"My reply is no," Maytag said. 

"That thing is no good. For that matter, you're a little useless
yourself. Terrible conversationalist, and you can't even be
trusted to look out for my best interests. I might as well just
sit with the eight ball." 

"You know, you could just ask for the heat to be turned up
yourself, Stanton." 

"I would, but they always look at you like you're some fussy old
lady. I hate that look." 

"I'm shocked, Stanton. First, a plea for chivalry, then a display
of passive behavior, and finally you're worried about your age
and what other people may think of you. Maybe you are becoming a
fussy old lady." 

"Maybe you should let the eight ball do the talking for you from
now on, Maytag." 

"I'll make you a deal, Stanton. You ask them to turn up the heat
in the room, and I promise to use the eight ball for speech guide
lines for the rest of the day." 

"What kind of a bargain is that?" Stanton asked. "I just told you
it makes your conversation terrible." 

"Fine," Maytag said. "Have it your way." 

Stanton thought for a moment. "I have a better idea. How about a
bet?" 

Maytag should have expected this: Stanton could not resist a
chance to wager. "Tell me the bet," Maytag said, "and I'll
consider it." 

"If you can go the rest of the day without saying anything other
than what's on the eight ball, I promise never to complain about
cold rooms again in your presence, and I'll ask directly if I
want the heat turned up." 

"And if I lose?" 

"If you lose, from now on, you will always ask for the heat to be
turned up for me, whenever I show the slightest discomfort or
make the smallest remark." 

"That's ridiculous!" 

"That's the bet," Stanton replied. 

"Forget about it, Stanton," Maytag said. 

"What's the matter, think you won't win?" 

"I know I can win," Maytag said. "But I am not making a bet with
consequences that last indefinitely." 

"I think maybe you don't want to look like a fussy old lady to
the waiters of the world, either." 

"I will not be goaded into this, Stanton." 

"Now I'm sure you think you can't win," Stanton said. 

"I will not be provoked. Besides, it looks like the next speaker
is beginning." 

"Fine," Stanton said. The next speaker was at the podium and
ready to commence. He was in the middle of his opening joke,
something about Texas, when Stanton leaned over and said, "You'd
think Texas would be warmer this time of year." 

Shortly thereafter, she nudged her partner and said, "I wish they
would do something about the heat in here." Her remark was timed
perfectly to coincide with the punch line. Maytag was left
wondering what everyone was laughing about, and Stanton knew that
would bother him all day. 

Maytag glared at her. "Must you do this?" 

Stanton wrapped her arms around herself. "But it's so chilly,
Maytag." 

"You're going to do this all day, aren't you?" 

"Not just today," Stanton answered. 

"Fine," Maytag said. "You're on. Will you let me listen to the
speech now?" 

"Yes," Stanton said. "And listening is all you'll do. The clock
is ticking." 

Maytag made a turning key gesture by the side of his mouth and
turned his attention to the speaker. He enjoyed the rest of the
talk in blissful silence, and Stanton suffered through it with
shivers. 

Lunch without speaking was easier than Maytag would have guessed.
The menu was fixed, and he simply smiled or shook his head when
dealing with the wait staff. He positioned himself to Stanton's
right, and on his other side was a couple engaged in their own
conversation. 

Stanton saw that all was not going to plan. "How about that
speech?" She asked. "I thought it was great the way he got the
crowd actually interested in his subject with that joke while
still breaking the ice with humor." 

"Very funny," someone agreed. 

Stanton looked at Maytag and smiled. She whispered. "Dying to
know that punch line, aren't you, Maytag?" 

He said nothing. 

"Maybe I should spill coffee in your lap," Stanton suggested. 

Maytag smiled again. He even went so far as to shake the eight
ball. "My sources say no," he announced defiantly. 

For a switch, Maytag had exasperated Stanton. She excused herself
and went to the ladies' room. While she was at the sink, a blonde
walked in, the same one who had put a black sweater over her blue
vest earlier in the day. 

"Hi," she said. 

"Hi," Stanton said, washing her hands. 

"I think we're at the same table," the blonde said. "I'm Colleen
Schett." 

"Heather Stanton." 

Colleen opened her purse and pulled out mascara. "What's with
that guy next to you with the magic eight ball?" 

Stanton sighed. "He thinks he's being funny." 

"Is that your boyfriend?" 

"Not hardly," Stanton answered. "We just work together." 

"He's cute," Colleen said. 

"Whatever," Stanton said. 

"Is something wrong? You seem mad at him, and he's so quiet." 

"Hah!" Stanton laughed. "Colleen, you don't know the half of it."
She explained the morning's events. 

"Oh, that's a riot," Colleen said. "I hope you win. I hate being
cold." 

"I know, I saw you put that sweater on this morning." 

"Well, it's freezing in there!" Colleen exclaimed. 

"Tell me about it." Stanton adjusted her dark hair. 

"Do you think I could help?" Colleen asked. 

"If you can get him to talk," Stanton said. "Please have at it." 

When Stanton returned to the table, she saw Maytag sitting
smugly, enjoying the last of his coffee. He gave her a few choice
words from the eight ball after she asked if he was enjoying
himself, and they moved to hear the next speaker. 

Another presentation went by, and Stanton could not dent Maytag's
armor. Snide remarks, invitations to debate, and repeated
references to the missed punch line all fell on seemingly deaf
ears. She was beginning to picture a future of having to carry a
sweater everywhere she went. 

There were cocktails after the last speaker. Stanton watched
Maytag closely as he ordered, but he simply pointed to a beer,
gave the bartender a thumbs up, and tossed him a dollar tip for
thanks. 

"I need a blind bartender," Stanton said. Maytag shrugged and
grinned. He was cruising to victory and they both knew it. That
was when Stanton spotted the blonde. 

"Colleen!" she waved her over. 

"Oh, hi, Heather!" Colleen replied. She still had the black
cardigan wrapped around her. She walked over to the pair. 

"Colleen," Stanton said, "I'd like you to meet Gerald Maytag.
Gerry, this is Colleen Schett." 

"Pleased to meet you, Gerry," Colleen said, offering her hand. 

Maytag took it, but only smiled and bowed his head in return. 

"You'll have to excuse Maytag," Stanton said. "He's recovering
from a bout with syphilis." 

Maytag's eyes opened wide, and he flashed Stanton a look of
outrage. Colleen only laughed. "Heather! You're terrible." 

"Yes, and now I'm terribly thirsty. I'll be right back." Stanton
practically jumped to avoid Maytag's reach for her, but she
stepped away from them, leaving the tanned, dark eyed woman alone
with her silent partner. 

"Heather tells me you work together," Colleen said. 

Maytag shook his head yes and took a sip of his beer. 

"What is it that you two do?" 

Maytag grinned. He reached in his jacket and pulled out his FBI
identification, flashing her the badge. 

"Impressive," Colleen said. Maytag shrugged his shoulders in a
gesture of humility. "So," Colleen continued. "I saw you with
that magic eight ball earlier. Do you still have it?" 

Maytag positively beamed. He reached in his jacket and pulled out
the small black globe. He offered it to her. 

"I love these things," Colleen said, shaking the ball. "Why don't
you ask me a question?" 

Maytag turned her down with a downward flap of his hand. 

"Not too talkative, are you?" 

Maytag shook his head no. 

"Me neither," Colleen said. "After all those speeches today the
last thing I want is to try to make small talk and absorb any
more information." 

Maytag nodded assent. 

Colleen leaned into him, and put her hand over his hand, the one
that held the beer. "Let's go someplace quiet," she whispered.
She ran a finger along the back of his hand, and it quickened his
pulse. She moved tighter to his face. He could see the small
diamond studded earring shining bright against the tan skin of
her lobe. It was so close to his mouth. "What do you say?"
Colleen asked. 

Maytag pointed to the magic eight ball in her hand. She lifted it
where they could both read it. "Yes, definitely," it read. 

Hand in hand, the two left the room. Maytag glanced around as
they exited, but Stanton was nowhere in sight. If she had been
trying to set him up by having him talk to Colleen, her tactic
had failed completely. The woman wanted to go someplace quiet. He
was reaping the spoils even before his victory. 

Outside the banquet room, Colleen's dark eyes sparkled with
mischief. "I feel like a teenager doing this," she said. Again,
Maytag just smiled. "Let's duck in here," she said, pulling him
to a coat room. 

"Here?" Maytag wanted to ask, but he said nothing. Inside,
Colleen pushed him against a wall and planted a kiss on his lips. 

The room was dark, but enough light spilled in that they could
see once their eyes adjusted. Colleen pulled the pin out of her
hair, and let the blonde tresses fall around her shoulders.
Maytag took her around the waist and embraced her lips with
another full kiss. He brushed his lips along her neck, and closed
his mouth over her ear lobe. He felt the diamond, hard and cold
in the center of the morsel of warm flesh. 

Colleen breathed out against his neck. She flicked out with her
tongue and nibbled where she could. She reached down between his
legs and took hold of the hard prick she had first felt pressing
against her body. 

"I want some of this," she said. Maytag simply moaned. "Do you
want to fuck me?" she asked. "No answer? What's your eight ball
say?" 

Maytag could just make out the words on the triangle, swimming
beneath the surface of the dark blue water. "Don't count on it." 

"You sure know how to hurt a girl's feelings," Colleen said.
"What if I just use my mouth a little instead?" 

Maytag was happy to see the words were "Without a Doubt".
Otherwise, he might have had to throw away the damn stochastic
device. 

Colleen dropped to her knees. Maytag threw open his trousers, and
Colleen shoved a fist in the fly of his shorts to retrieve his
cock. It sprung through the slit in the cotton boxers, and
Colleen was quick to wrap her lips around its swollen head. 

"Outlook good," Maytag groaned. 

With one drop of her jaw and a thrust of her head, Colleen had
half his prick in her mouth. Her tongue swaddled the underside of
his member. After a few strokes, she almost pulled off his
length. Instead, she tightened her lips around the crown, and
sucked back like she was trying to clean out the bottom of a
milkshake through a straw. Maytag though the head of his cock
would burst like a balloon in her mouth. 

Oh, how Maytag wanted to cry out. He bit into a knuckle of his
left hand so hard that he almost dropped the eight ball. He took
a fistful of blonde hair in his right hand and tried to coax the
woman away from the acute sucking. Her lips detached with a loud
puckering sound. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Colleen asked. 

Maytag looked to the ball. "Very doubtful," he was pleased to
say. 

"You really like that thing, don't you?" 

Maytag relayed the answer. "Concentrate and ask again." 

"I think I'd rather concentrate on this," Colleen said. She
pumped him with her fist, and moved her face back to his
protruding prick. After getting her mouth on his rod, she moved
her hands to the base and held his boxer shorts flat against him.
She found a rhythm again, and stroked him with her wet mouth. 

Though Colleen shifted from crouching to kneeling, and back
again, she never slacked from her pace. Maytag wanted to take off
her clothes, to see her body, to find out the extent of her tan.
He did not ask for it, though. He moaned thinking about it. 

Colleen took the moan to be a signal of imminent ejaculation. She
let the cock plop from her mouth. "Are you ready to come?" she
asked. 

"You may rely on it," Maytag channeled the plastic oracle. 

"Do you want to come on my face or my tits?" 

"Reply hazy, try again." 

"No eight ball," Colleen ordered. "Give me a straight answer." 

Maytag looked at the round toy. No matter how he shook it, it
wasn't going to yield a message like "blast her on the fucking
face." He froze. 

"No answer?" Colleen asked. "I guess I'll just stop then." She
backed away and began to stand. 

"Chin!" Maytag said. He tried to make it sound like it could have
been a sneeze. It was all very juvenile. 

"What was that? I don't quite understand." 

"Chin," he said, in a dejected but rather clear voice. 

"That's better," Colleen said. She smiled wickedly and ran her
tongue along his length. Furiously, she pumped him with her fist.
She aimed the head at her open waiting mouth, and when Maytag
came, the goo dribbled from her tongue and onto her chin. She
milked his deflating cock, and rubbed the swollen head under her
lips spreading his jism around her chin. 

"Did you enjoy that?" Colleen asked. "Don't answer that," she
added, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. "Signs point to
yes." 

* * * 

At breakfast the next morning, Maytag found Stanton already at a
table working on half a grapefruit. He had to stifle a laugh when
he saw the fruit squirt in her face. 

"You think that's funny, Maytag?" Stanton asked. 

Maytag shook the eight ball. 

"Don't bother," Stanton said. "I think it's done." 

Maytag made a twirling gesture near his wrist watch. 

"Yeah, one whole day, twenty-four hours, whatever. It's over
because you lost, Maytag." 

His eyebrows almost jumped above his forehead like a cartoon
character's might. 

"'Chin', Maytag. I have no idea why you would be saying that in a
coatroom," she exclaimed sarcastically, "but I heard it." 

"That was a sneeze!" Maytag said. "And what were you doing
following me?" 

"Winning a bet," Stanton said. 

"I don't think so," Maytag said. 

"Do you want me to get the witness here to testify?" Stanton
asked. "What does the eight ball say to that?" 

"Outlook not so good," Maytag said. 

"Right. But the outlook will be warmer after you tell the hostess
to turn up the heat in here." 

Maytag flagged down a waitress, ordered coffee, and complained
about the temperature. "Happy now?" 

"Very," Stanton said. 

Coffee arrived, and Maytag stared into it. A thought struck him.
"So what was the punch line anyway?" 

Stanton looked at him. "You've got it all wrong, son. The
swimming pool's out back!" 

"That punch line isn't even funny." 

"They can't all be," Stanton said. 

END 
----------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm running a poll about this story, please take a chance to vote:
http://www.jimmy-hat.com/poll/show.php?poll=38

And I'd love to hear any other comments.
There is an anonymous e-mail form (and more stories) at 
http://www.jimmy-hat.com , or you can mail me 
directly at jimmy@jimmy-hat.com

Anyone wishing to charge fees for access to this material, 
through any media or publication, must receive the written
permission of Jimmy Hat.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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