Pool Shark Tease

Be careful who you play with. She wants to play, but beware, she's a mean tease! Buy her a drink and let her tell you the whole story...

The inspiration for this cap actually came from another photoset, but by the time I was done writing the story, I realized that I needed something different and I eventually settled on this. I had a hard time choosing between this one and another though! I'm not a big fan of the orange background in these pictures as I feel it's rather strong, but I felt that the model in this set was more attractive (at least to me), so this was what I ended up going with. I'm also still not too sure about the placement of the title, but after messing around with it for awhile, I couldn't figure out anything else, so that's what I'm going with. Let me know what you guys think!

Transcript: Hey there stranger, how would you like to bet your pleasure on a game of pool? What’s with the dress? Ah, well, that’s a long story, which I’d be happy to tell you, you look like a fine young gentleman, if only my throat weren’t uh, so dry. You’d like to buy me a drink? How thoughtful of you, why yes, my throat is miraculously starting to feel better already. Let’s see, where shall I begin?

My name used to be Paul Veretti, I say used to because I go by Natasha now, shocked already huh? But I see you haven’t fled in terror yet, I’m starting to like you already. You see, I used to be quite the pool shark. I could rake in hundreds on a good night, but I didn’t do it for the money, I did it for the thrill. Some of my opponents however, didn’t take too kindly to losing. I later found out that some of them had decided to hire a witch of sorts to put a curse on me and bring about a reversal of fortune. Crazy enough, the curse worked…to a certain extent. The witch wasn’t very well practiced you see and didn’t have very good control over her magic, so the spell she cast on me produced some rather…unexpected results, namely, the body of an attractive young woman.

Adjusting to my new form proved to be quite difficult at first. There was a lot I had to learn and I hated the way people looked at me, especially the men. For week or two, I cowered in the safety of my own home, not wanting to be seen by anyone, until one day, I’d decided that I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to live my life in fear or shame any longer. I poured hours of effort into learning how to do my hair and makeup, as well as getting comfortable in distinctly feminine articles of clothing, such as dresses and heels. I also made some new friends and began to study and then imitate the behaviors of women around me, learning to sit like a lady by crossing my legs, but also how to be a flirt with the cast of a captivating glance. It seemed strange to me then that the looks of men no longer bothered me; in fact, I actually noticed that I was quite enjoying them.

By this point, I’d already made my return to the billiard room. Wearing only the most revealing of dresses and the highest of heels, I certainly turned a lot of heads. It wasn’t long before I was back to playing my usual game, where I used my new assets unrelentingly to my advantage. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was for my opponents to concentrate when my breasts were spilling out over the top of my dress or after having ‘accidentally’ brushed up against them. My lavish curves and demure smile could drive them insane with fervor and I offered them no retreat.

I was also a merciless tease. Something about the way they struggled against my charms, but still ultimately succumbed to me turned me on something awful. I loved seeing the painfully restrained bulge in their pants or feeling their hardness pressed up against my body and knowing that I was the cause. I took hold of every opportunity to give them ‘accidental’ looks up my skirt or down my chest, striking the most provocative poses while feigning innocence. The especially cute ones I would give every excuse to touch their body against mine, my favorite being asking them how to line up a certain shot, then requesting that they instruct me in a very ‘hands-on’ approach. This would require them to press up against me from behind, at which point I could begin to subtly grind my hips into them. If they weren’t hard before, they certainly were after, and their embarrassment at my knowledge of their arousal was visibly evident on their red faces. I would assure them with a coy smile however, that I appreciated their adoration and that I wished to thank them for the lesson, privately.

Once we’d reached the backroom, I’d tie the lucky, or unlucky, man’s limbs down to a chair first before beginning to slip out of my clothes with sensuous grace. I would take my time, casually letting the straps of my dress slide off my shoulders, and then slowly peel the skin tight fabric down until only my naughty sheer panties remained. In the same leisurely manner, I’d strip him down as well, until he was completely exposed. By this time, he would usually be desperate for any sort of physical stimulation on his engorged member, but I would ignore it, choosing instead to tickle and lick its surroundings first, smiling as I watched the pre-cum stream down his shaft. It’d only be after he’d begged me multiple times, that I’d squirt some lubricant into my hand and finally begin to stroke his rock hard cock. I’d alternate between fast and slow, short and long, and sometimes I would stop altogether, causing him to cry out in frustration. I’d bring him to the brink of orgasm over and over again, but always stopping before he could climax. Oh how badly his balls must’ve ached, but I was a mean mistress. I would ask him how badly he wanted me, how much he wanted to fuck me, how much he needed to cum, and I’d make him beg me to let him. If he did a good job, I’d reward him by letting him feel the warmth of my wet pussy as I rubbed and grinded it against him, eventually teasing it against his cock, but never letting him in. He would thrash and try futilely to thrust into me, but his restraints prevented him.

I can only imagine the amount of explosive desire that must’ve been built up within him by this point, but I wasn’t done with him yet. For the grand finale, I would unhurriedly open several condoms, laying them in a neat row on his lap. Into the first condom, I’d squirt a copious amount of a clear gel before rolling it over his cock. Then, after rolling several more on, I’d gently massage his tightly wrapped member for awhile to ensure that the gel had taken its effect. Once satisfied, I would dramatically straddle him, look him in the eye and ask him if he was ready, and then gently take him in, savoring the sensation. At this point, he would begin to panic, realizing that he was unable to feel my wet delicious pussy wrapped tight around his cock. With a smile, I’d calmly explain that the gel I’d put into the first condom was a localized numbing agent and that that, combined with the several layers of latex around his cock, would effectively prevent him from feeling anything at all. It was the ultimate denial. Then, using him as a life size sex toy, I would pleasure myself, telling him all the while how good it felt and what a pity it was that he couldn’t feel me squirming on top of him. When I’d finally finish with him several orgasms later, I would slowly get dressed, letting the realization that he would never garner any satisfaction from me sink in, before bidding him farewell, leaving his blue balls painfully tormented and him utterly frustrated.

So does that answer your question? Oh, don’t be so embarrassed about the bulge in your pants, that is certainly nothing to be ashamed of! You’d like to know what? If my earlier offer to play a game of pool with you was still open? Of course I’ll play, I can play for hours you know, plus, I quite like you, you’re rather cute!