Cue Ball in the Corner Pocket

Chapter 1 by Imaginator Imaginator

Tom was a white man in the wrong part of town. He had taken the wrong exit off the expressway and ended up in a seedy, run-down neighborhood. To top it off, his car hit something in the street which punctured it. Pulling up to the curb in front of a bar, he stepped out and inspected the tire. After changing the flat, amid taunts and remarks from passers-by, Tom now needed directions for getting back to friendlier territory.

After stepping into the bar, he noticed no one there except three black women. One hefty one stood behind the bar wiping the counter with a towel. She stopped and stared at him with her mouth open and her brow furrowed. A white man was a strange sight indeed for this place. After a few seconds of eyeing Tom, the woman's mouth turned into a half-smile. After all, Tom wasn't a half-bad looking guy, even if he was white.

The other two women sat at the other end of the bar with their drinks. One of them leaned back on her bar-stool to get a better look at the lower half of Tom's body. She was thin but big breasted, wearing a tank-top and tight pants. All Tom could see of the other woman was that she wore a button-down sleeveless shirt, and that she was smaller breasted than the other two women. Both of the women had their hair tied back in a bun.

"Mister," said the woman behind the bar, "you sure you're in the right place?"

"I just made a wrong turn off the expressway," said Tom, "and needed some directions on how to get back."

"Well, if I was you," said the woman, "I wouldn't be walking into no bar in this part of town looking for directions. But whiles you're here, why don't you shimmy your fine self up to the counter and let me pour you something, before you head on."

"Thanks," said Tom. "I'll have a beer."

The two women at the end of the bar were laughing and giggling to themselves, all the while leering at Tom and exchanging comments, like how they'd like to use his cue to play a game of pool with, or how they'd like to sink a corner pocket with his balls. One of them motioned for the barkeeper, then whispered something to her. The barkeeper laughed, then pulled something from a drawer and concealed it in her hand. After pouring a glass of beer, she set it in front of Tom.

"Here you go, honey," she said with a big grin.

As Tom drank his beer, the other two women kept whispering and giggling to each other. After a minute or two, Tom was feeling a bit dizzy, and soon after that, he found it difficult to keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered was the laughter from the women, and the barkeeper taking the glass from his hand, before he slumped over the counter.

When Tom came to, there was a single light-bulb shining down from overhead. He felt his arms and legs restrained somehow. When he lifted his heavy head up, he saw that he was laying on a pool table, naked and spread-eagled, with ropes around his ankles and wrists. The door to the room was opened, and there was the barkeeper standing in the doorway.

"He's awake, y'all," she said to somebody outside.

She walked into the room, soon followed by the other two women.

"Close the door there, Cynthia," the barkeeper said to one of the other women. "Ooh, baby! Look at what we've got here."

The three women surrounded the pool table, ogling Tom's naked body, and occasionally squeezing his arm and leg muscles.

"Ooh, he is a beauty, isn't he," said Cynthia. "Shandra, you sure know how to bag 'em."

"Hey," said a still woozy Tom, "what's going on? What are you doing?"

"What's going on?" said Shandra the barkeeper. "Why, honey, we just wanna play a little girl-style pool with you, that's all. Just relax, while we rack you up."

The other women broke out into laughter. Shandra had a hungry look on her face, as she undid her pants and pulled them off. The other two women began taking their tops off. Cynthia, who wore the tank-top, was bra-less, and her big-nippled tits bounced and swayed before Tom's eyes. The other woman, named Phoebe, took off her bra and began teasingly wripping Tom's limp cock.

"Come on, white boy," said Phoebe, "extend that cue for us. Let us see what you've got."

Tom could sense his cock starting to stiffen and lengthen in response to Phoebe's taunting.

"Ooh, girl," said Cynthia, "doesn't that look delicious. Nothing prettier than a big white cock."

"Play time, girls," said Shandra. "Let's get it on!"

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