Message-ID: <31977asstr$997794602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <jimmy@fozzie.webservepro.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <200108140221.f7E2LB9W024243@fozzie.webservepro.com> From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat) X-No-Productlinks: Yes 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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/31977> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly 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. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+