Pool Hall Hustle
Who’s Hustling Who

I take my shot just as Bridgit passes through my line of sight. My cue glances off the side of the cue ball sending it bouncing off the rail and into the side pocket.
“Fuck,” I mumble.
My wife snickers.
“Am I distracting you,” she asks.
My wife is a beautiful woman, with black hair and striking blue eyes. Of fucking course I was distracted. Especially since she was wearing a tight black dress, with thin shoulder straps that strained to contain her luscious breasts.
“What do you think?”
Bridgit just laughs as she retrieves the ball from the pocket and lines up her own shot. I wiggle my butt from the far side of the table but I fail stop her from sinking two balls with her shot.
“Eight ball in the corner,” she says pointing to the pocket a few inches from my hand. I scan the table. I still have two balls in play and one of them is between the eight and the pocket she’s pointing to. It’s going to be a tough shot.
“Fifty says you scratch,” I say.
My wife doesn’t hesitate. “Make it a hundred.”
“Bet.”
She skillfully smacks the cue ball just right. It hits the eight ball sending it caroming off two bumpers and into the corner pocket. The cue ball slowly rolls toward the side pocket. I watch it inch closer to it’s doom. While the ball is still rolling she sidles up next to me and lays her palm out.
“You seem pretty — “
The cue ball stops at the lip of the hole. It’s hanging over the edge, but no matter how much I pray it fails to drop into the hole.
“Never bet against me, sweetheart.”
She tells me that every time and every time I laugh it off. On day, I think to myself.
I’m pulling out my wallet when I hear a deep voice call from across the pool table.
“I’ve got next.”
I look up and see a beast of a man. He’s about my height, but his muscles are straining to escape from his tight Hawaiian-print button-down shirt. He has white skin with a healthy tan and his head is shaved. He slaps a hundred dollar bill down on the table.
I’m caught like a deer in the headlights. My wife, though, is more than eager to take on the challenge.
“Rack ‘em,” she says as she grabs the chalk cube.
I throw my hands up. “Easy come, easy go,” I figure she’s a hundred richer from my stupid bet. “You want anything from the bar?”
“Get me a beer,” Bridgit says as she leans down to break.
“Rex is the name,” my wife’s opponent says. “And you are?”
She takes the first shot. The white ball smacks the formation scattering the other balls. I notice a solid going into a corner pocket as I head to the bar.
By the time I get back my wife has run the table and she’s pocketing Rex’s hundred.
“Try again?” she asks him.
He looks at me. “It’s your turn buddy. She seems to be on a streak.
“I’ll pass,” I say as I hand my wife her beer. “But don’t stop the game on my account.”
My wife retrieves all the balls and builds the rack for the next game.
Rex comes over and offers me his hand. I shake it.
“What brings you to these parts?” he asks.
“My company is looking to relocate,” I say. “I’m scouting the place out.”
“And your first stop was the pool hall?”
“It’s actual our second,” my wife says. “We went to Kitty’s Lounge last night. Have to make sure your strip clubs can handle our cliental.”
Rex laughs. “Then can I recommend The Silk Sheets Gentlemen’s Club. It’s downtown, and you’ll find both the girls and their patrons are much higher class.”
“Well thanks for the advice. Alex, can you write that down.”
“Yes dear,” I say as I pretend to take a pen and notepad out of my pocket.
The next game lasts a little longer. My wife gets down to one ball on the table but can’t sink it before Rex clears his balls and puts the eight ball in.
We spend the next few hours playing and chatting. No more betting, just for fun. Rex is a nice guy and both I and my wife enjoy his company.
He’s a stockbroker by trade. He moved to the city to go to college, but he visits the horse farm his family owns whenever he can. And yes, he loves to lift weights.
I look at my watch as I my wife begins to rack up the balls for another game. It’s eleven o’clock. Later than we’re usually out, but it is the weekend and we’re away from home and the kids.
“I think it’s your turn Rex,” I say. Bridgit has been kicking our butt. I’ve won one game, our new friend has won two, my wife has four victories under her belt.
“We’ll make this the last game,” Rex says. “I’ve got to pick up my son from his mother’s tomorrow morning. Don’t want to be smelling of beer and cigarettes.”
Rex breaks and puts two balls in before he misses. My wife sinks one before her turn ends.
Rex is looking over his shot options when my wife comes next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I’ve been having a lot of fun tonight, too bad it has to end.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think I like this town.”
Yes, we were checking out the city for a corporate move. No, we were not checking out the strip clubs and pool joints first. We had spent the last few days investigating infrastructure, school districts, and local politics. And after this weekend, we had plans to look at two or three possible sites for our headquarters.
I look at my wife, she’s looking at Rex. Her eyes lingering on his ass. I want to say something, but it’s caught in my throat.
Bridgit and I like to tease each other. She’ll point out hot women when we’re at the beach, if the kids aren’t within earshot, and I’ll tell her when I’ve caught some young stud checking her out when he thinks no one is looking. It’s all fun and games and we have a great sex life. But when I catch my wife actually eyeing another man, again, thinking she’s getting away with it, something inside me tingles.
It was tingling right now.
“Your shot, Bridgit,” Rex said.
My wife moved to take her shot and I swear she let the back of her hand slide across Rex’s very round ass. He didn’t flinch.
The game lasted a few more rounds, until it was down to one of Rex’s strips and my wife with a shot at the eight ball for the win.
Bridgit was lining up an impossible shot. The cue ball was trapped between a rail and Rex’s ball. She had to hit at least one bumper before hitting the eight, and then avoid scratching in the process.
My wife is a great pool player. She’s won tournaments back home. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her make a shot with this difficulty.
“I don’t think you can win on this shot, sweetheart,” I say. In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut. It’s not like we’re drunk. I’ve only had four beers and my wife’s still nursing her second. But what happens next stuns me.
“I think she can,” Rex says.
I look at him. “Really?”
“Alex!” my wife shouts over the table.
“Honey, you’re a great pool player, but that shot is impossible.”
“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars I make it,” my wife says. She has her hands on her hips and a killer look in her eye.
I’m about to call her rash bet, but Rex stops me.
“I have a better bet,” he says.
“I’m all ears,” I say.
“If she misses, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
“Shit,” I say.
I look over at my wife. She’s still trying to figure out the shot but I can tell she heard what he said.
“And if she makes it?” I ask.
“If she makes it, I’ll give her the greatest orgasm she’s ever experienced.”
My eyes go huge. “Wha?”
“Bet,” my wife says as she takes the shot.
What is happening? Is she planning to miss on purpose? That’s a quick five hundred bucks. And it’s all in her control.
I watch in horror as the cue ball bounces off one bumper, kisses the eight ball, sending it into the side pocket. The cue ball rolls safely into the middle of the table.
Bridgit has won the game. Rex gets the chance to make her come. As for me, I don’t know what I get out of it, but I do know one thing. My cock is hard as steel.
Alex’s wife gives up an easy five hundred dollars. Will her orgasm be worth it? Will they let Alex watch?
If you want to find out make sure you follow me and subscribe to get part two in you email box.
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Thank you for your time.
Sean