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 it was even possible to get a strike. But there was one problem."

"What's that?" Molly asked, releasing my penis. I moved my hips, a signal that I wanted to be 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 back and forth 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, so that means I was more like seven than eleven. 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 ten or eleven by this time. 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.

"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 more on his back with his head twisted, buried between his girlfriend's legs. She was more on her side. She was sucking his cock. Just the head of it was in her mouth. Her hand was moving up and down the shaft. All of a sudden she moved her head away and white stuff geysered up. His cum, though I didn't know what it was then. She kept moving her hand, jerking more and more white stuff out of him. I watched, fascinated. But a moment later they started to get up, so I hurried back up the stairs."

"Andy didn't make his girlfriend come?" Molly asked, my cock now out of her mouth. "I didn't know your brother was so rude."

"I don't know. But not too long later they came upstairs. I made sure to stay out of their way. They left the house. I went down to the basement. Sure enough there were some semen splotches on the pool table. Some of them were streaked. Maybe Andy had tried to blot them up, but he wasn't very successful."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Over the next few days I'd check on the splotches. But I didn't risk playing pool. I did start touching myself, though. Imitating what Andy's girlfriend had done to him with her hand. I got an erection, even though my dick wasn't very big. But I didn't come. Still, it felt good. Tingly. Then maybe a week or two later Andy wanted to do something—I don't remember what it was, but he wouldn't be able to mow his share of the lawn, and he wanted me to do it for him. I told him I'd mow his share if he let me play pool. He said no way. I said then I won't mow. He said okay, but you better not wreck the table. I said what do you mean? He said like gouge it or something. I said what do you mean gouge it? He said ram the cue into the table. I said I knew what I was doing. He said really? I said want me to show you? So we went down to the table. The splotches were there, all dried but clearly there. I said what are these? He said what? I said these splotchy places. He said chalk dust. I said oh. So after that I got to play pool as much as I wanted. I was hoping I'd catch Andy and his girlfriend again, but I think they broke up not too long after that first time. Are you going to suck me more?"

"That was an interesting story," Molly said. She was fondling my cock, but it had dwindled a little. "You know what I feel like doing?"

"What?"

"Bowling. I haven't bowled since I don't know when. Girl scouts."

"What about my blow-job?"

"If you beat me in bowling then you get your blow-job."

"Are the lanes even open?"

"Let's go see."

So we went to the nearest bowling alley. It was open, but there was hardly anyone there, and the man said they were about to close. "Just one game," Molly wheedled, with a smile no one can resist, not to mention her long legs and short skirt. We rented shoes and picked out balls. I got a 16 pound black one and Molly got a 12 pound white one. It turned out Molly was pretty good. She got a 145. I was pretty bad. I got a 112. But I had an excuse. Not only was Molly wearing a really short skirt, but it had a slit in the back and she wasn't wearing underwear. It's not easy bowling with an erection.

"That was so fun," Molly said when we got home. "We're going to have to do that more often."

I frowned.

"Don't pout. You were such a good sport I'm going to give you a blow-job even though you lost."

So we went back on the couch. It was one of the best blow-jobs ever. I told that to Molly.

"Thanks," she said. "It was my pleasure. I really like the taste of your chalk."

We laughed, and then it was my turn to do her. She came a couple of times and then she said, "You know what I'm going to do now?"

"What?"

"I'm going to chalk your cue. I'm going to chalk it and chalk it and chalk it."

It turned out Molly was even better at pool than she was at bowling.