For US readers unfamiliar with a half size snooker table...think pool table.

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Table Menace

I should have known better. But you know how it is - you're a teenager: your body is such a seething mass of urges that even your hormones have spots and caution gets thrown to the winds. So I did it. Driven by a primal lust I said "Fancy a game of table tennis then?"

There were extenuating circumstances: normally there would have been two or three of my mates there and we'd have stood around the youth club assuring each other how desirable we were and speculating on the defects of those girls present who failed to throw themselves at us. All of them, since you ask.

Anyway, on this occasion all of my usual companions had been struck down by colds, visiting relatives or other various hazards and so I found myself at the club without my friends on a sparsely attended dull Thursday night, lusting after Mary.

Ooohh, gorgeous blonde Mary with her soft nuzzle-me breasts and tight fondle-me buttocks, the unapproachable Queen of the Church Youth Club.

She looked at me. I tried to look casual but found myself drawn by an irresistible force to stare at her breasts instead.

"Can't you see we're already playing?" One of the pieces of furniture spoke to me. I looked at it more closely and it resolved itself into Monica, the plain friend. You know her. Yes you do - or one of her hundreds of thousands of near cousins anyway.

"No, Monica, we'd just finished." - My heart and assorted other parts leapt.

She bent down to pick up the ball from the floor. I sensed from the expression on her face as she stood up that I was still drooling.

"Serve!" She said curtly, tossing the ball across the net. That was a bad sign. I was reasonably proficient at table tennis but Mary turned out to be more than just proficient.

I tried hard to stay even but I got the impression that she was just toying with me. I suppose I should have realised at that stage that she wasn't going to risk her superior image by engaging in any activity where she wasn't reasonably sure of emerging victorious. Something or other, however, was clouding my finer judgments that night. I went down fighting but the result was really a foregone conclusion. Having Monica hovering around the table interjecting cutting comments at vital moments didn't help my performance either.

"My game, I think." Mary smiled her superior little smile. "What a pity we didn't have a bet on it."

I tried to look nonchalant. "Well of course, if we had, I might have tried a little harder." The fact that I could hardly get the sentence out without drawing breath probably undermined my casual air somewhat.

I could see Mary looking round the hall in the search for someone - or maybe for anyone that she could use as a polite excuse for dropping me in the metaphorical waste bin. I knew that I had only seconds to retrieve the situation. "Well, if it's a competition you're looking for how about a game of snooker?"

I said it wearing my charming but careless grin, which probably looked more like an evil leer to match the thoughts going through my mind. You see, at the youth club the little half size snooker table wasn't in the main hall but in a small upper room in the tower: a relatively private spot reached by a pull-down stair ladder from the kitchen. I didn't have to dream up some lurid fantasy about writhing with Mary in a passionate embrace on the snooker table: I already had a huge stock of them to draw on.

"Yeah okay" she said looking at me quizzically "but this time, we'll have an bet on it."

"All I desire is a kiss, my Princess," I said cheesily. I assured myself that she must just have been caught by a draught - shivering, not shuddering.

We made our way to the kitchen, Mary's boot heels clicking across the tiled floor along the corridor. God I had fantasies about those boots: as was the fashion of the times as the skirts got shorter and shorter so the boots got a longer and longer and Mary's lower half was just buttocks, thigh and black leather ohgodohgodohgod! We arrived at the kitchen without my having fainted through lack of available blood for my head and oh joy, the stair ladder had been pulled down but there was no one up in the loft room.

"After you" I said standing aside graciously

"In your dreams," she said tartly "just get up there!"

Well, it was worth a try, I thought as I scrambled up the stair ladder with Mary following close behind. I looked down as Monica followed up after us. "Why don't you make us some coffee, Monica" I asked pleasantly.

"Why don't you drop dead," she replied pushing her way past me.

It was only when I saw Mary quickly and expertly setting up the table that I realised I had probably dropped myself in it again. And so it proved as I went down to an ignominious and undisguised defeat.

"Well played, Mary," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "Shall we go down and get a cup of coffee?"

"Not so fast, you. We have a bet, remember?"

I did remember, and I did point out that she hadn't specified the other half of the wager, but that didn't deter her.

"That was worth at least a bob," she demanded with menaces, holding her hand out.

A shilling?! Friday was pocket money day and I had only tenpence on me and that was earmarked for a visit to the chip shop afterwards. "Oh, but, I've only got tenpence and I need that for my bus fare home" I muttered.

"Oh you little fibber!" burst out Monica. "I saw you arrive on your bike!"

"Is that true?" Mary came really close to me now: normally a highly desirable position to find myself in, but right now she was looking anything but welcoming.

"Oh, oh, yes. I forgot I came on my bike tonight" My voice sounded as lame as my excuse.

"Well you still owe me." Mary smiled unpleasantly. "And if you can't pay in money then you're just going to have to pay your debt some other way, aren't you?"

Mesmerised as I was by Mary I could still see Monica out of the corner of my eye, pulling up the stair ladder and securing the trapdoor with an old snooker cue: a well establish trick to maintain possession of the snooker table during periods of high demand. I started to edge my way around the wall but Mary edged around with me keeping me pinned by her presence. Then everything happened once.

After a brief struggle I found myself pinned face down on the snooker table with Mary twisting one arm behind me and Monica using her not inconsiderable weight to hold me down.

"I think we have to teach this worm a lesson, don't we Monica?" Mary twisted my arm harder. "Now what we have here is a little weasel who welches on his debts and tries to lie his way out of it. What do you think would be appropriate, Monica?"

I could hear the gloating in her voice. "I think naughty little boys should get a good spanking."

I struggled all the harder, but short of actually throwing a punch at one or another of them, which would have destroyed my reputation even more thoroughly than my present predicament, I could do nothing to break loose.

"Excellent idea, Monica. It's a good job I brought my table tennis bat up here with me." She had as well: I remembered her carrying it. Even if I had had any doubts on the score they would have been instantly dispelled when I heard, and a fraction of a second later felt, the resounding thwack of the bat descending on my backside.

My yelp was considerably muffled by Monica's ample frame spread over me and I continue to yelp as Mary beat out a little tattoo

"Okay, Ok Mary. A joke is a joke, but that's enough."

"Oh no, not enough, not by a long chalk!" And the next moment I felt her hand fiddling with the belt on my trousers.

By this time the snooker table was bouncing around under my efforts to get free to such an extent that it must have sounded like a thunderstorm in the kitchen down. My struggles were to no avail and she succeeded in yanking down everything exposing my bare buttocks to the world. Next I felt the scrape of the dimpled rubber rasping across my backside.

You ready for this?" I could hear the laughter in her voice. "Well ready or not, here it comes!" And the next moment there was a sound like pistol shot as the bat descended again.

Slow lingering strokes, short volleys of strokes, she tried them all as I moved from struggling and yelling to begging her to stop.

At last they let me go and I hastily pulled up my trousers. Mary just stood there, smiling sweetly as Monica opened the trapdoor and let down the ladder.

Mary grinned at me again "now you have something to boast to your mates about, don't you? And who knows, if you ask me nicely next week I've might let you play with me again. Same rules of course." And with that pleasant parting shot she descended back into the kitchen with Monica, no doubt preparing to resume ignoring me as usual.

Play with her again? Same rules?

Well I'll give it some thought..................

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