Against All Odds

Lindsey knew she was moving fast on him, but she also was aware that their time together was short and that an opportunity like this might not come along for quite some time, so she wanted to get as much in as possible. She couldn't possibly know that she was having the same thoughts as her lover in that the two positions they had been in felt so different, yet so much the same and equally as good. "Harder," she whispered. "Really fuck me."

And so he did, pounding her so hard that she couldn't hold herself up and she collapsed flat on her belly. However, he stayed with her, straddling her thighs, making her even tighter than any other position. It was magnificent.

It was then that she began to have frightening thoughts that it had been so long since she'd had an orgasm—a real climax, not the mini one she'd had earlier—that she feared not being able to have one; particularly considering that she'd faked it with her husband so many times. She did recall that the few times she had come had been in the old tried and true missionary position so she maneuvered them into that posture.

As he re-entered her, Ryan smiled at her to let her know he liked this also, and as such he fucked her slowly. She pulled his head to hers and they kissed, bringing meaning and sensuality to their act. To her great relief and satisfaction, she felt her orgasm building just as slowly until it completely took over her body. Every nerve and muscle tensed with a pleasure she was not sure she had ever known. It was the grandest experience of her life. And it didn't just end; it let her down just as slowly as it had grown.

So stunned was Lindsey, she hadn't realized that Ryan had pulled out of her. But she was instantly cognizant of the fact that he hadn't come yet. She reached for his cock and started jerking him, but he halted her. "Relax for a few minutes," he whispered, smiling warmly.

"But, you—"

"We'll get there," Ryan remarked as he eased off of her and sat against the headboard.

"I'm sorry," Lindsey said. "Did I not do something to get you off?"

"You were fine. Everything we did was great. Just letting you enjoy the after effects of your orgasm for a minute before we get into it again."

She sat also, eyes wide and smiling. "I like the sound of that." She maneuvered herself between his spread legs leaning against his chest. "And you're right. Everything we've done so far has been great. It's really nice to be wanted and needed."

"It is." Ryan kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear.

Giggling, Lindsey purred, "Mmmm, that feels nice."

He wrapped his arm around her, cupping her breast. She put her palm on top of his and pressed it to her. As he fondled her tit, he rested his other hand on her hip. With her other hand she pulled his around, aiming it at her pussy. He got the message and played with her snatch with his fingers.

"Oh, yesss," Lindsey murmured. She leaned all the way forward, presenting her rear to him. "Kiss my ass," she snickered, then added, "I mean that in a good way."

He readily complied, both kissing and tonguing her anus and pussy. He was actually enjoying the feast so much, he turned her onto her back with her legs up in the air and went back to licking her.

"Oh, you're good," she moaned.

So, he moved up to suck her nipples.

Lindsey allowed it for a minute, and then spread her legs, reached for his cock and guided it back into her pussy. She lifted her legs and rubbed his nipples with her toes.

That was definitely a first for him. It was a nice touch, but he was concentrating heavily on coming, his mind enjoying everything his dick was feeling inside of her. The sight of her breasts swishing backwards and forwards from his thrusts was also stimulating, but just looking down at her beautiful body and the lust-filled look in her eyes and the awareness that she was allowing him to fuck her for all he was worth had him climaxing. He quickly pulled out of her and jerked himself a couple of times to finish himself off. He shot a goodly amount of pearly white semen all over her abdomen. And what added to the incredible feeling of orgasm was the big smile on her face, which he took as happiness that he came.

Some of his cum had dribbled down his shaft, and feeling wicked, she gestured for him to come to her. He did by knee-walking. When he was close enough, she grabbed his cock and pulled on it, guiding him to her mouth where she licked off the excess. That caused a few more drops to spurt out.

"Mmmm. I haven't tasted that in a while. Yummy!"

Ryan fell onto his side, still hard, much to his surprise.

Seeing that, Lindsey said, "Quick. Stick it back in."

Still on his side, Ryan squirmed down a bit to enter her from his current position. She actually did all the moving front to back and around, and then she pushed him onto his back, sitting on top of him without letting his cock out of her. She bounced on him and bent down to kiss him.

Their sex was as urgent—maybe more so—as before she had her orgasm, and it was as though they needed to do it as many different ways as they could. She got back on hands and knees and had him do her doggy-style. He plowed her so hard, she came again burying her face in a pillow to scream and yell. It was so intense and so exciting, he surprised himself by coming again also; not as spectacularly as before, but he'd never had two orgasms in one session. He spurted a few measly drops on her back and she again turned around and licked him clean.

"Wow! I've never come twice in one night!" Lindsey marveled.

"Neither have I," Ryan revealed.

"You wanna spend the night? Maybe we'll wake up in a while get lucky again."

Ryan turned to look at her, the zest in her eyes more than apparent. It was a tempting proposition, and while their time together had been amazing, it seemed that more of it would only lead to trouble. He had never done anything like this before, it had been enjoyable, but as he was still a bit nervous about cheating on his wife even given the estranged nature of their marriage, it was time to move on.

"And I can see by your expression that it's not going to happen," Lindsey deduced.

Slipping out of bed, Ryan remarked, "It was great. Don't want to get greedy." He started dressing.

Lindsey shrugged and followed suit.

They met at the door. She held out her business card.

"Another time?" she asked.

"This was great, but I'm not sure I want to get involved in an affair."

"What would be wrong with that?" she wanted to know.

"So we sneak around and try to steal a couple of hours here and there so we can have a quick fuck. It'll be fun at first having all the sex we've been missing. And then, it'll become a chore or one of us will get tired or no longer satisfy the other. We'll grow to hate each other."

Lindsey grinned. "It'll be fun as long as it lasts." When he didn't smile, she went on, "Okay. Bad joke. But that's not the only possible scenario. We could fall madly in love, give each other the courage to leave our spouses, get married and live happily ever after."

"Which begs the question why neither of us has left our spouse yet." He shrugged. "I don't have a good answer."

"Sometimes, it's difficult to decide whether it's safer to cling to a sinking ship or swim away."

"I guess neither of us are good swimmers."

"When is your next trip?" Lindsey asked, changing tack.

"Three weeks."

"So, you'll be back here exactly four weeks from tonight?"

Thinking about that for a second, he answered, "Yes."

"Then how about this. Use that time to decide if this was an impulse or something with possibility. If it's the latter, I'll meet you here in this hotel's lounge exactly four weeks from tonight. If you don't show, I'll know it was just an impulse."

"Fair enough."

Lindsey leaned over and kissed him, glimpsing his full name on his luggage tag.

Ryan wasn't certain whether he would show up in four weeks. Collecting his own bag, and having caught her name when she flashed her business card, he stepped into the hallway. "Oh, shit!"

* * *

At about the same time Ryan and Lindsey met at the airport:

"Excuse me, but do know anything about wines?" Logan asked the woman studying various bottles of reds.

Isabella turned to face the man who intruded on her thoughts. She shrugged, "I have a fair knowledge."

"I don't. I generally drink the same couple of brands. I'm just looking for something different." Initiating contact with the woman had been purely innocent, his inquiry genuine. Logan now noticed that she was quite attractive with long, flowing reddish-brown hair, shapely frame, nice legs and breasts.

"—are your couple of brands?" she was asking.

Catching himself from staring, Logan said, "Kendall Jackson and Chateau Ste. Michelle."

Isabella nodded. "Okay. Pretty good stuff, mainstream, pretty common." She saw him stealing a look at her. She wondered if his request for advice was merely a prelude to a seduction. On the other hand, it was nice to have a man notice her; a handsome man at that. "Cabernet? Merlot?"

"Actually, red blends."

"Price range?"

He shrugged. "Not cheap, but not real expensive either."

"Special occasion? Trying to impress someone?"

"Neither. Just something good to drink."

Isabella smiled, judging the man's inquiry to be honest. "These are all Orin Swift wines." She gestured to a row of bottles with comical names and interesting labels. "All blends. All good. Pricey, but not hugely expensive."

Logan read a couple. "The Prisoner. Machete. Papillon. Abstract." He smirked. "The man has a sense of humor."

"The names and labels are just as unique as their wines," Isabella reported. "And it's not really a person's name, just the name of the winery."

"Which do you recommend?"

She shrugged. "Too difficult to choose. You just have to pick one and try it, or two. Or go down the street. There's a nice wine bar that serves some of them by the glass."

"That sounds intriguing," Logan mused. And then, he impulsively added, "Would you join me?"

She held up her hand displaying her wedding band.

He did exactly the same. "Just a glass or two of wine. Nothing more." At least, he meant it at the time he said it.

Isabella was at something of a loss. She'd never had this happen: meeting a total male stranger—in the grocery store, no less—and being asked to go have a drink. She knew she was fairly attractive; she worked hard to keep herself looking good, even despite the lack of attention she received from her husband. It made Isabella wonder, if she had been more homely, would he have still asked? He seemed like a nice man; certainly handsome enough, but not the kind of looks of someone who might be full of himself. Strangely, she really kind of wanted to accept . . . but did she dare?

"I'm sorry," Logan said, interrupting her thoughts. "It was an impulse to ask that. Don't know what made me think that you would agree to something like that from a stranger."

Now, that was a very polite thing for him to tell her. Either he was genuine, or a very smooth talker. She wanted to believe the former, and decided to take the chance. Besides, it was a public place. "I just need to check out. Meet you there in fifteen minutes?"

"I'll get a table and order," Logan said, suddenly nervous that she had accepted. "W-Which wine should I start with?"

Isabella offered him a very warm smile. "Surprise me."

"By the way, I'm Logan."

"Isabella."

"See you shortly."

Isabella walked off, seriously questioning what she had just done. She put back the couple of perishable items in her basket and headed for the check-out, a sudden rush of excitement coming over her.

Logan entered the wine bar apprehensively. He wasn't usually impulsive, but he found himself strangely attracted to Isabella. Of course, he didn't expect anything to happen beyond having a glass of wine—after all, she was married. And he didn't think he could even go through with anything should there even be the remotest possibility of something happening. Even though his marriage was failing, and had been for some time, pursuing another woman had never occurred to him. Why now?

His nervousness caused him to remember only one of the wines: Machete. So, he ordered two glasses. The wine bar was small, and then only about half the tables were occupied, so the two glasses of the dark red blend were served quickly. For fortification, Logan took a healthy sip, not the least bit surprised that it tasted as good as it did; way better than what he usually drank. He was further pleased that Isabella hadn't steered him wrong.

When he put the glass down, she was standing there.

"You caught me," he said. "Couldn't wait to try it." He slipped off of his stool to pull hers out for her.

Impressed by his gentlemanly attention, Isabella asked, "I wouldn't have either." Once seated, she took a sip. "Ah, Machete. What do you think?"

"Delicious. You do really know wines."

"I said I had a fair knowledge," Isabella reminded, and then smirked.

Logan frowned when she grinned.

"Actually, I saw the bartender re-corking the bottle and took a chance."

They both laughed, breaking the ice.

Isabella lifted her glass, they toasted and each took a sip.

"I have to admit, I've never done anything like this before," Logan revealed.

"Nor have I," Isabella said. After another sip, she asked, "So, why now?"

"You really did seem to know wines and I was actually looking for something new to try." He also took another sip. "Why did you accept?"

"Truthfully, other than talking about these wines made me want a glass, I really don't know." She couldn't tell him it was because he was staring at her and she thought he was handsome.

"So are you one of those people who can taste all kinds of different berries and other flavors in a wine?"

"No, my taste buds are not that sophisticated," Isabella admitted.

"Then how do you determine if it's a good wine?"

"Very simple. You pour a glass, drink it, and if you like the way it tastes, it's a good wine."

"Well, that's a very . . . simple . . . approach."

"A group of my friends and I used to have a wine tasting club. We would choose three bottles of a specific varietal in three different price ranges: inexpensive, moderate and expensive. One person would host the tasting and wrap the three bottles so that the others would not know which was which. We would then taste the wine and rate them. The most expensive wasn't always everyone's favorite. It just proved that if you like the taste of the wine, it's a good wine."

Another pause for each to take a sip had Logan finishing his glass since he'd had a head start. Without waiting, he slipped off of his stool, and as he headed to the bar, he glimpsed Isabella's shapely legs, her dress having ridden high on her thighs. He actually felt a stirring in his crotch and was surprised by it from just her legs. Had it really been that long for him? He didn't achieve a full erection, but enough to make a noticeable and embarrassing bulge in his pants. He was able to adjust himself at the bar while the bartender poured two more glasses of wine, but he still moved quickly back to the table to limit being discovered.

However, Logan did not notice that Isabella did. She didn't have to turn much to see him go to the bar, but what held her attention was when he reached down and grabbed himself, obviously relocating his penis. A sudden hot flash came over her as the realization that she might be the cause of his "stiffness" occurred to her. Glancing down, she saw that her dress was around mid-thigh and she was showing a considerable amount of leg. Isabella shunned the notion that the sight of her legs had done that to him. Still, suddenly feeling wicked, she did not tug her hem down when he returned, but wondered what had come over her. Was it wrong to have a little fantasy?

Isabella had finished her first glass by the time Logan climbed back onto his stool. On an empty stomach, she began to feel the effects of the alcohol rather quickly, thus heightening the little fantasy playing out in her mind. She quickly sipped the fresh glass. It was delightful, not the same as the first glass, and at this point, it really didn't matter which it was.

Likewise, the first glass and Isabella's legs caused Logan to take a different view of this gathering. "Know which one this is?" he asked to make more small talk and avoid the thoughts he was having. He swallowed a mouthful of wine.

"Aside from the fact that it's not the same, no." She really didn't care.

"The Prisoner."

"Which do you like best?" Isabella felt she needed to ask.

"Both good. After only one glass and one sip, though, it's too soon to make a comparison. You?"

"You're right. Guess we'll just have to keep drinking." Isabella offered her most alluring smile.

Logan wasn't expecting such an answer, but it was her smile that got him, not to mention the vision of her legs still in his mind. He had a full hard-on now and it was beginning to ache, not just because it had limited space inside his pants, but it was yearning for something he hadn't had in some time, and suddenly, he really wanted it from the woman sitting across from him.

Logan's slight squirm did not escape Isabella's attention. If the wine and the bulge in his pants weren't stimulation enough, the notion that she was having an effect on him was having an effect on her. She couldn't remember the last time a man had responded to her as she presumed Logan was. Certainly, it hadn't happened with her husband in a long time. "So, what else can we talk about?"

He shrugged.

"Your wife? What does she do?"

"Don't really want to talk about her," Logan said with a grimace.

"Things not good at home?"

"We actually make good roommates and not much more."

"Really?" Isabella asked with surprise. "That's about where my husband and I are."

Eyebrows shooting up, Logan said, "No kidding?"

"Yeah. We connecting must go against all odds."

"Pretty amazing. How long has yours been like that?"

"I don't know," Isabella said with a shrug and a healthy sip of wine. "It's been gradual over the past few years."

"So has mine," Logan revealed taking an equally healthy gulp. "I guess some people just drift apart over time."

"I guess."

"Do you need to talk about it since you have someone sort of in the same boat?"

"Nothing really to talk about," Isabella said. "We get along. We don't fight. We just . . . don't do anything else."

"Wow. That's us also." Logan couldn't help asking, "Is sex included in the don't do anything else, if I'm not being too personal?"

With two-thirds of her second glass of wine gone, and the subject turning to sex, Isabella could care less about being too personal. "Yes. Truthfully, it's been a while. You?"

"Still in the same boat."

"It's difficult, isn't it?"

"Most certainly is."

Staring at each other, the two each downed the remainder of their second glass, and then just stared at each other.

"Shall we have another glass?" Isabella asked, liking the way the wine was making her feel and the accompanying thoughts.

Logan didn't answer right away, debating whether to say what he wanted to. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "When I invited you here and said it was just for a couple of glasses of wine, I was being honest. But now, after being with you for a brief time and revealing what we've revealed, I would like to buy a bottle of wine—or two—and go somewhere that we can enjoy the wine . . . and each other."

Now, it was Isabella's turn not to immediately answer. But she wasn't being coy, she just didn't want to sound as eager as she was. "And by enjoy each other, you mean sex?"