A Not Quite Love Story

Lyndsay stepped into me. I think she was trying to intimidate me, but I couldn't possible step away. There was a crackle of sexuality when she got closer and I wondered if she felt it, too. There was certainly a storm brewing in her eyes. Ah, that's right. I pissed her off. "I have more ambition than your wife or my sister. You'll see," she said.

Now she was the one walking away, and my better judgment, useless as it was, told me it was just as well. I would likely never see her again after that and if I did, there would only be awkward silence between us. Still, I was intrigued by the 'you'll see' she left me dangling with.

It was then when I saw Cheryl marching towards her. I quickly assessed my posture and my proximity to Lyndsay and was satisfied that it didn't seem to give away the less than reputable thoughts I had. In retrospect, I now know that Cheryl was far too concerned with Lyndsay to know that I was ever even there.

What happened next was like a dream. It was incredible in its slow motion theatric, yet also impossible for me to do any more than gawk in alarm. I knew Cheryl was about to throw her martini and that Lyndsay was the intended target. I didn't know why, but of course I assumed it had something to do with me.

Cheryl stepped into the pitch, first slinging the contents of the glass, olive and all, into Lyndsay's face. Cheryl followed that by flinging the entire glass at Lyndsay's torso, where it then fell to the ground and shattered.

"You hussy," my wife screeched. "Stripping. You're stripping now. Waving all of that in some fool's face. That's what you've become. Get off my property. Get out. Get outgetoutgetout."

What the hell had gotten into her?

I stepped into my wife. "Honey, you're creating a scene in front of your voters. Tell me what this is all about later. Right now, smooth this over with your guests and I'll escort whoever this person is out of here."

Cheryl was born to be a politician. She didn't really blink or blush or stutter. She simply turned to her guests and worked a little charm. I was just glad she didn't put up a fight with me and I managed to maneuver Lyndsay inside the house rather quickly with a hand on the small of her back.

"Need a cab," I asked.

"Nope."

"How about a shirt? I can take that one to the cleaners," I said.

"That's ok."

"Are you sure?"

She looked down at her shirt to examine the damage. I wasn't sure that it needed a visit to the cleaners, but it still seemed the decent thing to offer. "Alright. A clean shirt would be nice," she agreed.

I was quickly back with an old t-shirt and I showed her the guest bathroom. I waited patiently in the hall outside the bathroom door for her to come out and give me her shaken not stirred martini shirt.

"You can just drop this off at the apartment when it's ready. Do you remember where it is," Lyndsay asked.

"I do." I did. The little alarm in my head was certainly starting to buzz a little. This seemed like dangerous ground and I was weighing just how foolish I was beginning to be.

"Great. Just bring it by. If you want to have some fun while you're there, I'm okay with that. You're cute. You're nice. And I have your wife to get even with."

Holy shit. I quickly glanced down the hall to be sure nobody had heard that. She was so forward and direct that it knocked all kinds of sense to me. To be honest, I was not contemplating any kind of affair with my wife. To be even more honest, I wasn't exactly shutting the door to the possibility, either. I now realized I needed to.

Lyndsay, intentionally or not, was quicker than my rebuttal.

"Oh, but we're not having sex. Just so we're clear."

That was good. It almost lulled me into a sense of safety. I almost nodded in agreement. I realized however that I would also be nodding in agreement to other sorts of fun that a married man has no business having with a single woman.

In the time this little realization processed through my suddenly inadequate brain, Lyndsay smiled, thanked me and leaned in and kissed me.

I kissed her back.

Her tiny lips pulsed against mine for only a breath or two. There was only a hint of her tongue flicking against my lips. I parted my lips to return the favor, but I was again a step behind. She bit down softly on my lower lip and stepped back from me.

"Mmm," she mewled. Smiling, Lyndsay turned and left the party.

My lips were electrified, bursting with tingles. My cock wasn't hard, but it was swelling. My heart was quickened. My light-headed brain was swimming in fantasy.

I shook it off and returned to the party, resolved not to think of Lyndsay again. Fuck it if she never got her shirt back. No big deal.

Three days later, at two or so in the afternoon, I was pulling into the parking lot of Whitestone Apartments. I wondered if there was a chance that I would actually know anybody here. I tried not to feel guilty about it, because I was just returning a shirt. Truth be told, I wasn't expecting to see either Candace or Lyndsay. They were both college girls and they were both strippers and that meant that on a Tuesday they were sure to be busy one way or another. That, anyway, was the rationalization that I told myself on the drive over.

I actually felt a twinge of disappointment when there was no answer when I knocked on their apartment door twice. I thought it was possible that I had the wrong apartment, but in the end, after replaying the memory from a few weeks back, I decided I had the correct place and I knocked one more time. Still no answer. It was time to throw in the towel. I dropped the parcel with Lyndsay's shirt inside next to the door and turned to go.

Lyndsay was walking up the stairs. "Hi," she chirped.

"Hey," I said, feeling awkward and dumb for even being there. "I brought your shirt back. It's all clean."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

"Need help with those," I said, pointing at the knapsack slung over her shoulder.

"Nope, I'm good," she said, already at the door to her apartment. She bent over to pick up the parcel. Her bum framed in the black denim jeans stirred the animal in me. I was still caught between being a good and decent member of the Married Men Society and just wanting to claim this gorgeous woman for myself. She managed to unlock her door with her hands full and as she stepped inside she turned back to me. "Are you coming in?"

I didn't answer. I just smiled and followed her inside. The apartment was much the same as it was before. Some messes were cleaned up and other messes were brand new. It wasn't a sty but it was certainly lived in. I wonder if she would appreciate a maid service.

She tossed her bag on to the couch, the same couch she danced for me on. "I'm sorry that the place isn't cleaned up," she said. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No," I said. It was an awkward moment. If I wanted to leave, I wasn't sure how I was going to exit gracefully. If I wanted to stay, I wasn't sure how to get things going to the next level. Maybe I should have said 'yes' to the drink.

I was caught looking around the apartment and lost in these thoughts when she came up to me and kissed me like before. Although she certainly surprised me again, I was quick to lower my hands to her bum and to pull her hard against me. I wanted her to feel my swelling cock. I wanted her to know that I wanted her. Lyndsay lifted one leg and wrapped it around me, our tongues now pushing and swimming against each other's.

The passion of the moment was escalating quicker than I could contain it for much longer. I was only a breath of a moment away from pushing her on to the couch, shifting a few articles of clothing and burying my cock inside of her. I needed it and so did she. Somehow the absurdity of the situation caught up with me just then. I carefully pushed her away, taking a deep breath.

I looked into her eyes, carefully choosing how I would let her know I couldn't do this.

"Two rules," she said, before I could say anything. "The first is we're not doing anything here in the living room. If my sister came home, that would just be weird. Second thing is, no sex. Just so we're clear. You try anything I press charges for rape. I'm here for a little revenge on your wife and you're here because you're a guy. I don't need to make my life messier by having sex with a married man right now."

"I have a condom," I said. Ah, see what she did there. I was ready to shut the whole thing down and she made it clear where the line in the sand was. Nothing makes a man want something more than if he knows it's on the other side of that line in the sand.

"Let's just keep with my rules," she said, tuning to walk to wherever her bedroom was. "I'm sure you'll leave a very satisfied man."

I followed her. Really, there was plenty of guilt going on inside my head, but there was never a thought of turning back after that point. Her bedroom was small. There was a twin bed, a dresser, milk crates that served as a bed stand and what was left barely constituted walking room. Lyndsay let me enter enough for her to close the door.

She stepped into me and put her hands on my chest. "I can trust you, right," she asked. I told her she could.

She leaned up and kissed me again. She kept kissing me first, and I kept letting her. This time, the electricity kept humming upon my lips as the kiss persisted. Lyndsay mewled again and I was starting to really adore that sound. Perhaps it was her college-style bedroom. Perhaps it was her significantly younger age. I felt like I was in high school. I nearly felt like I was going to get laid for the first time. Except that I wasn't going to get laid, according to Lyndsay's rules.

I started to slide my hands down to her ass, to hold against me and to begin the exploration of her body I had fantasized about for days (or was it weeks), but she grabbed my wrists and brought my hands higher up on her back. Ah, she wanted to be in control, did she? That was fine with me . . . for now.

With nothing else to do with my hands, I pulled one through her hair and the other pulled her against me by the small of her back. I deepened the kiss, my thick tongue conquering her tiny, petite and feminine tongue. Holding her like this, kissing her like this, I felt her leg lift up to entwine mine again. I took advantage to push her back to the bed, but once again she put on the breaks, her hands pushing into my chest to stop. Of course I could have over powered her, but I wanted to fuck her, not rape her.

Wait. I didn't want to fuck her. Wait, I wasn't allowed to fuck her, so everything was fine. How the hell was this fine? We were kissing like teenagers in her bedroom. This wasn't a strip club. However I rationalized it, I was about to cheat on my wife and probably already had by some definition. When Lyndsay started to lift up my shirt, I didn't care anymore about Cheryl ... at least in that moment.

She leaned back to look at my revealed torso. I knew I looked good, but I didn't know how I compared to the college studs she saw around campus.

"I can work with that," she said. Was that a line from a movie?

Next her small hands were on my belt buckle and the snap of my jeans. After a quick tug here and an awkward struggle with my shoes there, I stood before her completely naked, my cock pointing at her, condemning her for the seductress she was.

"Oh, yes, I can definitely work with that," she said, taking me by the hand and guiding me to her bed where I happily stretched out. Without ceremony, Lyndsay stripped her clothes off quickly and joined me on the bed. God, her bed squeaked a lot. If Candace came home, she would know that Lyndsay had company.

Once again we were making out like teenagers, only now the warmth of our nudity elevated the passion. I think I tried to kiss her softly, but the moment I felt her naked soft breasts press against my chest, I was possessed by a hungrier desire. Instinctively we humped at each other and my cock was already honing in on the warmth of her pussy. I needed to fuck her, claim her and own her the way that a man needs to own a woman. I rolled on top of her.

Lyndsay seemed prepared. One hand covered her pussy and the other managed to lock around my wrist in a chicken wing behind my back, something she must have managed before I started to roll over on her. "You're not going to fuck me, Scott," she whispered.

"Are you sure," I said. Once again I knew I was physically stronger than her and writhing out of her chicken wing hold would have been as simple as shrugging my shoulders. Still, I was enjoying this little battle for control.

"Nope," she said. "I'm not going to get pregnant today."

"I was going to get the condom," I said. It was a pathetic lie and Lyndsay called me out on it.

"Fuck you, Scott," she laughed. "You were ready to claim your prize, damn the consequences."

The sobriety of the moment slapped me in the face like cold water and I felt the blood pumping into my cock retreating. She was right. I was ready to fuck her, spill my seed in her, impregnate her and risk whatever disease she may or may not carry. Fucking hell, I needed to get out of there. More fucking hell, though the blood was leaving my cock, not enough had made its way to the higher cognitive functions of my brain. "I can still get the condom," I said.

Lyndsay rolled her eyes in irritation. Then she looked at me and nodded towards her groin. "Look down," she whispered.

Her hand covering her pussy was no longer covering her pussy so much as pleasuring her pussy. I held my breath when I heard the wet sound of her finger parting her labia and pushing inside. She dragged her finger out, glistening with her juices and her scent of arousal, and began to swirl her touch on her clit.

"Mmmmmmm, yes," she moaned. It was an exaggerated moan, clearly more for my pleasure. It worked. My cock was hard and ready for business again. "I love to masturbate, Scott. I'm really good at, too." She was subtly writhing beneath me. "I love touching my warm ... wet ... pussy."

Even beneath me she relished being in control. How long was I willing to be teased and to let her have the upper hand before I seized control from her? Hell, I wasn't even sure if I was supposed to fuck her and this was a game or if she really intended to not have sex with me.

"Do you like watching me touch myself," she asked.

"Oh, yeah," I grunted, thrusting uselessly toward her.

She bit her lip. "Too bad, I need something else touching me right now." With that, she took advantage of the leverage of that chicken wing and rolled me over on my back and she quickly and naturally sat astride me.

She bent down to reach between her legs for my cock, which she carefully pinned against my abdomen. Then she lowered her pussy against my cock and began to slowly slide back and forth. With only a few strokes, the length of my cock was coated in a cocktail of her juices and my pre-cum. "You like this," she said.

I wasn't sure if she asked me or told me, but I responded as intelligently as I could. "Uh huh."

Lyndsay kept up her rhythmic motion just as she kept up her posture of being bent over me. I wanted to kiss her but it seemed like she was concentrating too much on making sure she didn't slide too far forward or back. You never know what would happened if my cock head gained a bit of purchase inside of her pussy. Every now and then, her full breasts would graze against my chest. I closed my eyes, being lulled into a hypnotic erotic state. Only then was I aware of the sounds.

Her breathing was even and slow, but also heavy and pronounced. I began to think of her orgasm somewhere in this act. I was acutely aware of the sound of her pussy as it slurped against me. Fuck she was wet, and I pushed my hips up as I imagined sinking deep inside of her. My hands started to lazily explore her body. Her skin possessed the firm and soft attributes of youth and I delighted feeling her ass and squeezing it tight, pressing her groin harder on my cock. I moved up to her sides which instantly tensed erotically against my touch and I felt a staccato shudder in her breathing. Next I caressed each breast even as they pressed against my chest.

She leaned down to whisper into my ear. "You like it. But do you like it better than with you wife?"

I turned my head to glare at her. That was evil and I didn't like it. I must have conveyed the message because she apologized, but she did it with a disarming smile. Not the conquering kind of smile, but the kind that says she knew she mis-stepped.

Lindsay sealed her apology with a kiss. Her little tongue invaded my mouth with all the sweet slowness of her pussy on my cock. Her fingers raked my torso as she moved her hands to pin mine above my head. I loved the way her body stretched against mine as the kiss deepened even more.

Then it happened. The head of my cock found the opening to her pussy. We both felt it at once and we did what came naturally, we groaned and thrust. I can't say that I was inside of her, but certainly my cock head had found its way. My balls tensed and I knew I released a bit of seed.

"Shit," she whispered, immediately reaching between us. "Where do you think you're going?"

"You like it," I said.

"Mmmhmmm, but I'm not getting pregnant today."

Lyndsay reached between us and pressed my cock flat against my pelvis again. She sat up on me and resumed sliding along my cock. She kept her hands on my stomach for balance only for a moment before sitting a bit farther back, which put even more pressure on my cock. My cock seemed larger than ever before trapped there between her pussy lips. Watching her sway and dance above me, with her eyes closed in her own private rapture and her breasts heaving up and down, I thought about, of all things, Brad Pitt in "Moneyball." He said something like, "How can you not be romantic about baseball."

How could I not be romantic about this vision above me? Was I falling in love? No. Fuck no. But in that moment, with my orgasm suddenly peaking around the corner, it sure felt a lot like I was falling in love.

"Oh, my god," I whispered.

"Yesssss," she encouraged.

"Lyndsay, you're so beautiful," I said. I thrust against her harder and she obliged with a harder grinding.

Licking her lips she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "You're so hot, Scott. You're so big. You're so hard. You're going to make me cum. You're going to make me cum and you're not even fucking me."

I wanted to watch her. I wanted to watch her stroke her clit in accompaniment to our grinding dance. I wanted to watch her dance above me. I wanted to keep watching her face as it begged for release. But my orgasm, now doing more than peaking around the corner forced my eyes closed.

"Lyndsay. Oh, god, Lyndsay, I'm going to cum."

Lyndsay moaned. "Unghhh, god. Yes, baby. I'm there. I'm there ... I'm ... fuck I'm cumming."

Her body jolted above mine and she sharply leaned forward to catch her hands on my chest. Her fingernails dug into my skin and while I'm not a pain junky, it was too much and ropes of cum shot from my cock against her stomach and mine. My hands were on her bum and I pinned her as hard as I could against me.

She tensed a final time before letting out a deep and guttural moan, arching her back strongly. My cock pulsed a few more times until the last of my cum dribbled unto my stomach. For her part, Lyndsay's strength was tapped and she collapsed against me, unafraid of the cum oozing between us. She slipped across my body to lie next to me. I loved the feel of her, of her thigh across mine, of her breast pressed into my torso, even of her hair on my cheek.

"I didn't expect to orgasm," she said. "Mmm, my god, that was amazing."

Yes, and I always remember how that moment felt.

"You know, Scott, this was about revenge. But next time, we can do it for fun."