Sometimes Molly asked me to share something with her that I hadn’t thought about for a long time. She said she was interested in bits and pieces of my history. Often, when she asked for these bits and pieces, it was while we were on our living room couch and she was leisurely sucking my cock. I’m sure the activity had some influence over my memory.

“Bowling pins,” I said. “When I was little, like seven or eight or maybe even ten, someone gave me this present of a miniature bowling game. The pins were made of wood painted yellow. They were maybe three inches tall and not as fat in proportion as real bowling pins, though I’d only ever seen a real bowling pin on TV. But I was interested in the game. I even knew how to keep score. This bowling game had several problems. For one thing, the pins didn’t stand up very well unless they were set up carefully. The playroom had a shag carpet, which was impossible. The hallway carpet was better but still too soft. If I accidentally knocked a pin over, two or three others might fall. Also, the ball that came with the set was too small and too light. You couldn’t really roll it with any accuracy or authority, especially not on the carpet. And on the kitchen floor the ball could roll under the stove.”

I paused for a moment, the better to enjoy Molly’s sucking. She was really good at knowing how far to take things. She’d tease me to the edge and then let me calm down. Talking about the bowling game helped me calm down as well. “Authority, huh?” she said, “Go on. Tell me more.” And then she took my penis back in her mouth. She was half lying on the couch so she could look up at me as she sucked. She knew I liked to watch as she did it – that seeing her lips and her face and her eyes as she sucked me made me extra excited.

I told her that I solved two of the problems at once by making use of my older brother Andy’s basement pool table. “The green felt was firm enough so the pins could stand up, and I’d use the black eight-ball, which rolled very well, with plenty of size and weight. Using the eight-ball made possible a strike, but there was one problem.”

“What’s that?” Molly asked, releasing my penis. I moved my hips, a signal that I wanted back in her mouth. She licked me instead. I like licking, especially certain spots, but licking also makes me want back in her mouth. I used my hands on my penis, sliding it across her lips, and then I pushed it in. I could see her smile even with my penis now in her mouth.

“Oh, that feels good,” I said.

“Pool,” she said, with my penis still in her mouth. It took me a moment to figure out what she’d said.

“Okay. Okay. The problem was I had to climb up on the table to bowl properly. And Andy didn’t want me crawling on his table. He didn’t want me playing with his pool table at all. So if I wanted to do it, I had to do it when he wasn’t home. But quite often he wasn’t home, so I had my chances. I did worry a little bit that I’d wreck his table somehow. Maybe snag the felt and tear it or something. I tried to be careful.”

I could see Molly had a worried look.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that wrecked the table.”

Molly’s brows formed a sort of question mark.

“One afternoon everybody was out. Maybe I was just into my teens by this time. Anyway I was old enough to be home by myself. I was old enough to actually play pool instead of bowling on the pool table. I wasn’t very good, but I liked the sounds the balls made, and I was getting better. I practiced whenever I could, but Andy still didn’t like me messing around on his pool table.”

It wasn’t easy keeping my mind on the story. I consider myself pretty good at multi-tasking. I can tie my shoes and listen to a Beethoven string quartet and think about what I might like for dinner all at the same time, but when Molly is sucking my cock, the only thing in my mind is the sweet and ever-escalating pleasure of her lips and tongue, that soft, juicy suction, the tight, twisting thrill of teasing licks, the pull and pressure as she slides her mouth down and up, a tantalizingly slow see-saw on my stem that all but takes my breath away.

“Like I said, I thought I was home alone, so I went down the basement stairs. I was about halfway down the stairs when I heard some noises. I stopped and listened. I heard moaning. I stepped quietly down the rest of the stairs. I peeked around the corner. There on the pool table were Andy and his girlfriend. They were doing 69. I had no idea what that was at the time. It looked very peculiar. Andy was lying on his back with his head twisted, buried between his girlfriend’s legs. She was more on her side. She was...”