The Phases of One's Life
Copyright© 2026 by N.D.Tomes
Chapter 28: The Super Bowl Party III – Kate III .4 – Sunday
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 28: The Super Bowl Party III – Kate III .4 – Sunday - A controlled corporate attorney wakes tied to her own bed by a naked stranger who knows her name and claims it’s “for your own good.” The young woman has been quietly tangled in her life for months—leaving signs, steering events, and creating a strange current between them. What follows is a tense night of revelations about the firm, the last six months, and unsettling supernatural abilities. Dry, first-person, focused on the emotional shift more than explicit detail.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Humor Group Sex Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Oriental Female Hispanic Female First Masturbation Oral Sex
The party was humming. Most of the women drifted between balcony, living room, and dining room. The men had colonized “The Back” (my private nickname for the game room that somehow became permanent). They played pool, nursed drinks, and talked shop. At some point in the evening Daphne had assigned the the Cardinal bartending duties. She told him it would help moderate everyone alcohol intake. The Cardinal said “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you telling Kate the Irish make the best bartenders.” She tell me that, loud enough for the Cardinal to hear. But I had to admit, he looked disturbingly comfortable behind the bar.
I was ferrying another tray of empty glasses when I noticed Jane leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching Janice play pool with a ridiculously good-looking young cop. Dark hair, shoulders for days, rookie written all over him but carrying himself like he belonged.
He’d come with Tom Richards—Chris Barrington’s old partner—who Chris had invited along with Daphne’s blessing. Tom wanted to see how his rookie partner behaved out of uniform. The rookie’s name was Richard Booth, and Janice seemed happy to make his acquaintance.
Rich, as he told everyone to call him, was a perfect gentleman: polite, quick smile, letting Janice break every game. They were on their second match and looked dead even. Between shots they ribbed each other mercilessly—some of the lines had the spectators howling. I heard Janice say something like, “He put more balls in his pockets this morning when he put on his pants than he has on the table so far.” She looked in the direction of the Cardinal and sheepishly said, “Sorry.”
Cardinal Killegan calmly replied, “I heard worse in seminary.”
Janice “missed” a tricky eight-ball cut in the first game, leaving it hanging for Rich. He sank the easy shot and gloated. Second game looked like neither would ever make a shot. But Janice eventually won. Afterward, she suggested they “make the third one interesting.”
Jane slid up behind her and whispered, loud enough for me to hear, “Hustler. So what’s the wager—who gets to be on top?”
Janice shot her a death glare and a tiny smirk.
Sydney materialized on Janice’s other side, leaned in, and stage-whispered, “He’s almost prettier than you.”
Janice swatted at her, but couldn’t hide the grin.
Janice turned back to Rich. “Winner gets to give the loser a nickname and use it the rest of the day.”
Rich’s eyes lit up. “Rack ‘em.”
Jane again, deadpan: “He’s obviously not paying attention. You’re already quite racked.”
Janice: “Shush you...” then, with a wicked little grin, “and thank you.”
Janice broke—nothing. Rich dropped two, missed the third, and stepped back with a cocky, “I’m leaning toward ‘Pocketless Princess.’”
Janice studied the table like a sniper, ignored the gimme sitting in front of the corner pocket, and banked the cue ball with nasty english. It kicked three of her solids wide open. Jane turned to Rich: “I think she’s going with ‘Mister Cue-less.’”
Janice ran the table, gave Rich the sweetest smile on the planet as she sank the eight like it had personally offended her.
The room actually applauded. Rich walked straight up, shook his head, and said, “Hustler.”
Janice batted her lashes. “Just lucky.” Then, “Double or nothing?”
Rich laughed. “Sure. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
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