It was Saskia's fault I did. The barmaid had been eagerly watching developments in the grey corner of the pub. "Go on Stee-vee, play him, be a man not...mouse," she goaded in that broken accent of hers.---Five minutes later, I was sick to the very pit of my stomach as Ronnie addressed the black ball about to dispense it in the corner below my eye. A straight shot, he couldn't miss. Lifting back the cue, he launched and the money ball fired into the dead centre of the pocket to retrieve £500 that. I was so pissed, my plan was falling apart and I just walked out and slammed the door. I went straight to my friend, Silvia's house. I told her what happened and she convinced me to go out to the bar with her. We got wasted. At one point I was dancing with an attractive black guy named Marc and I had such a good buzz, I did nothing when he started to feel me up. Then we were grinding on the dance floor and I was getting wet. I felt his huge hard black dick rub against me and it sent shivers of. More

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