Ascending Lauren Ch. 13

Apologies for taking so long to continue this saga. Like many others, SARS has taken its toll on our writing family. Strength has been zapped for months, which, of course, robs us of motivation.

To that end, the "raven-haired and much prettier" half of our team, who has recovered better than an old fart, has taken pen in hand to move this storyline along. As such, some may detect a slightly different writing style.

This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more. They are an amalgamation of real anecdotal events from our relationships, with a heavy dose of embellishment. For those realists out there: no, none of these things would happen to one couple in such a short amount of time. It's fictionalized non-fiction. Get over it.

Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold/group sex/interracial topics. This story is tagged as such, so if you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.

We intentionally have comments turned off. We write to make people happy, to hopefully entertain. We do not want our digital exhaust to be a vehicle for the negativity that Literotica comments have become notorious for. Turning off public comments is our small way of helping not to propagate hate. Have something to constructive to say? PM us.

Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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December 1st. Three months to go.

December saw a flurry of activity in the Miller's separate but ever-connected lives. With the hospital complex 90% complete and a February ribbon cutting looming, Corey and the other project managers were working overtime to ensure crews were meeting deadlines and avoiding penalties. In Florida, Rekrap Industries had their own worries, mainly around supply chain shortages. The fiberglass manufacturer faced issues procuring natural minerals used to make the product and delays resulted in very irate customers. Lauren's office staff had been enlisted to reach out and head off any potential defections to other suppliers. That made for a lot of boring lunch meetings and late-night dinners, yet all felt the extra effort would be worth it if it meant keeping business relationships alive.

All this extra effort left little time for a long-distance marriage. A few texts here and there with maybe a quick call at night was the most the lonely husband and busy wife could squeeze in. Neither had broached the subject of the "Ashley Date", though it certainly was still prominent in their minds. In the days following that memorable Thanksgiving weekend, Corey had used an entire bottle of lube while picturing his wife and best friend rolling around on a worn-out mattress in a flea-bag motel. Likewise, Lauren could not shake the incredible memories from that night, frequently employing her ten-inch vibrator to revisit how Zane Picardo drove his impressive tool deep inside her, resulting in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.

Although bringing a friend like Zane into their ever-expanding experiences was certainly a big step, that wasn't what bothered Corey the most. Hell, he might as well have put the biker's dick in Lauren himself. Rather, it was the fact that someone so close now knew their secret. It was one thing for strangers to be aware, but there was altogether good reason to keep it quiet in their own hometown. While Corey was growing more comfortable with his kink every day, there was still an undeniable stigma attached to the genre. Call men like him a cuckold, stag, or just a voyeur, somehow a man couldn't be a man if he drew pleasure from his wife sleeping with others.

Of course, mainstream society used to say something similarly foolish about gays. A man couldn't be a real man if he sucked dick. Fortunately, most people now saw the fallacy of these phobias, but like the LGBTQ movement, polygamous relationships still had a lot to overcome. As such, the practice wasn't really something one could divulge outside certain circles without risking unpredictable consequences. Thankfully, most liberal minds simply shrugged it off as live and let live, but others severely derided it, usually without cause. Even some who secretly masturbated late at night to erotic literature, those who should be more tolerant of alternative lifestyles, somehow found it necessary to continually ridicule personal choices. This weighed heavily on Corey, and not knowing which camp Zane was in, kept him from picking up the phone and calling his best friend.

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With Christmas only weeks away, Lauren used what precious free time she had to scour Miami's downtown shops for just the right gifts. There she found funky clothing for the free-spirited Caroline, a designer handbag for the practical Amelia (who'd never buy it for herself), and the latest French perfume for her new Magic City friend and coworker, Amy Rosinner. The only challenge now was to find the perfect gift for the one man whose heart she held closest. But what? Being the memory maker for the family, Corey might enjoy a new camera. He was an avid photographer, after all. Or maybe some scuba diving gear for daytrips to the Keys?

The Iowan beauty rolled her eyes and chuckled softly while meandering through the never-ending corridor of a downtown mall.

But did the perv deserve a gift at all?

Although the bitterness had subsided, Lauren was still a little miffed at Corey for filming her in Jack's penthouse. Granted, it wasn't so much the video itself - she was the last one who should be judging morality - but damnit, he could have at least asked permission. They were all so drunk, no one would have cared, and he probably could have joined in, though Lauren knew his preference these days was to watch.

Far, far worse was their daughter Caroline finding the incriminating evidence. What a dumbass! Who leaves a thing like that on their desktop? What could be worse than a daughter seeing her mother's sex tape? With multiple partners, no less...none of whom were her father. It was one of those things that can't be unseen, and if it didn't scar the youngest Miller for life, it would most assuredly change how she viewed her parents.

Why hadn't Lauren pulled the plug on Corey's fantasies right then and assured her daughter it was all over? Wouldn't most parents immediately end any controversial behavior upon their kids learning of it?

What does that say about me?

Oddly, beyond the initial shock, Caroline had exhibited unusual calm. Nor had she asked them to stop. That was kind of weird. True, Corey had interrupted their conversation that day before they had a chance to finish, but something told Lauren that Caroline wasn't as upset about her mother screwing other people as she was about it potentially hurting her father. Once she knew Dad was onboard, her demeanor changed. In fact, since then, none of their conversations even touched on the incident, like it never happened. Very odd for her to just let that go. These days, as a licensed therapeutic counselor, Caroline was trained to view sexuality with a clinical eye. But seeing your mom getting drilled like a two-bit whore and knowing your father was a booster? Thank God, the girl had agreed to stay mum. Knowing his sweet little princess was aware of his nasty little penchant would surely send Corey to an early grave.

Still, with all the disappointment at her jerk-of-a-husband's stupid attempt at pornography, a pang of compassion tugged her heartstrings. She knew all too well what it was like to weather an Iowa winter, and how tough it would be for her to spent weeks on end, whiling away lonely hours, wondering what he was doing. How depressing it must be for him to call, just to find that she was at a club, out sailing, or frolicking on the beach. How harsh was it to learn the of fun she was having sipping wine at the pool deck, while he watched a blizzard dump a half-foot of snow that he would eventually have to shovel?

Then there was the seemingly perpetual hall pass. Corey had guided her down this path, so it should come as no surprise that, reluctant as Lauren was initially, she had now fully embraced it...and then some. At first, of course, she was shy about the whole thing, almost embarrassed. Now? Well, she rather enjoyed her newfound love for sex, and teasing him was a lot of fun too, although she was sometimes confused on how far to take it.

Originally, he claimed it was all about compersion, about her receiving the pleasure he could no longer give her. Then he began showing an affinity for teasing and humiliation, something she had researched but didn't really understand. Case in point, it sometimes seemed as if Corey actually enjoyed being separated by 1,500 miles, where he had no control over what she did or who she saw. Did the long-distance veneer over her everyday life, and the helpless feeling it extolled, add to his twisted pleasure? So strange if that was true.

All things considered though, it was hard to begrudge the poor man's very real need for a distraction. Lauren understood deep down that that video -- as underhanded as it was - had acted as a proxy for being with her when he could not physically be.

That's why giving him the perfect gift this year was more important than ever.

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Corey was pulling out of the construction yard after a long dusty day when his boss came running out of the trailer office and held up a hand. Stopping, the project manager rolled down the driver's window and waved back.

"Something wrong, Chief?"

"Listen," Haul Carew said breathlessly. "You got a line on any work down there yet?"

"Haven't really had a chance to look."

"Doesn't surprise me, being here from sunup to sundown most days."

"Yes, sir."

Haul looked him in the eye. "Miller, you're a real talent. It's going to be tough to replace you. Miami, what a place to retire, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Carew handed him a sticky note.

"Dale Dactyl. His company specializes in residential high-rises. A little different than commercial, but hell, with your skills it will be no problem to pivot. Him and I go way back. He's waiting for your call."

Corey looked down at a number scrawled on the yellow paper. "Wow, Haul, thanks, I'll call him. That's mighty big of you. I know you're not happy about me moving on."

"That's true, not gonna lie. But you need to chase after that pretty little lady of yours before someone else does," Haul belly laughed, with just a hint of leer. "Hell, might even be one of us! You know how much me and the boys like her."

"I do, Chief," Corey chuckled, shoving the phone number into his grubby work jeans. The idea of his fat boss and the rest of the crew taking up with Lauren might just be kindle for a cold winter night's dream. The fact that she had used a couple of his coworkers during role-play one night didn't help vanquish the thought either.

God, I'm a sick fuck.

But honestly, what else was there? His thoughts, his hand, and a little lube was all he had right now to keep his sanity.

As he merged onto the freeway to his suburban home, he dialed the number Carew had given him. The construction firm's owner picked up right away and seemed amiable enough, if not downright jolly. After Corey explained his plans for relocating to Miami, Dactyl was open to meeting and discussing potential employment. They settled on a date and promised to continue the conversation then. Hanging up, the project manager felt on top of the world. Things were falling into place. Not only would he soon be reunited with the sweetest girl in the world but might also be landing the perfect job.

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Lauren smiled sweetly at the wet-behind-the-ears youngster trying desperately to explain the advantages of a real camcorder. She had wandered quite by chance into the brightly lit electronic store, enticed by the sale signs in the front window. Much to the boy's dismay, his concentration was severely hampered by the way the elegant woman's satin blouse clung to her small breasts, accented by a strand of pearls, and legs wrapped in a tight pencil skirt. Like many young men, he had difficulty speaking in the presence of such a sumptuous MILF.

"B-B-Better control for outdoor nature shots, additional lighting capabilities for indoor ones, and even microphone add-ons!"

"And the viewfinder?" she asked.

"Oh its, larger than most!" the boy beamed.

"Bigger is better right?" Lauren winked, barely able to keep a straight face. "Can you show me?"

She thought the kid was going to pass out.

"S-S-Sure," he stammered, positioning himself behind her. He discretely inhaled what he thought was the most alluring perfume he'd ever smelled.

Lauren could feel the front of his work khakis press into her skirt as he lowered his arms around her shoulders to show her how the camera worked.

"Oooh, that is big," she teased, peering through the viewfinder.

Turning so her cheek was just next to his, Lauren looked him in the eyes. "I'll take it."

Moments later, the smitten sales associate watched as the woman of his late-night dreams walked out of his store and life with her new camcorder. Yes indeed, the mature beauty had given him something to fantasize about that night after saying goodnight to his parents.

And she'd bought a warranty to boot!

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Forty-five minutes after setting up the Miami interview, Corey guided his old pickup truck into a nearly empty two-car garage and killed the engine. He sighed as the creaky wooden door closed behind him, seemingly sealing him in for yet another lonely night. It wasn't so much the solitude that would eventually close in on him as the evening wore on; that he could handle. Rather, it was the not being there. The not knowing. Not knowing what his lovely bride was doing at any particular moment as she went about her daily life.

A life without me.

And there was little question Lauren had built a life of her own in Miami. Bolder, sexier, and shamelessly provocative now, his wife had little trouble attracting a stable of new, shiny friends with whom she enjoyed spending time with. Whether it was relaxing with neighbors at the pool, rubbing elbows with - and, by the way, occasionally fucking - coworkers, bar owners, billionaires, fraternity boys, and strippers, Lauren certainly had her dance card filled most weekends. Then there was her attitude. Way more assertive, carrying herself with more confidence than he'd ever seen. Indeed, he had truly poked the bear.

But isn't that exactly what you wanted? Well then...mission accomplished! Right?

Unfortunately, Corey had begun to question the wisdom of pushing her into that behavior, at least while he wasn't there to help manage and be part of it. Although the pillow talk would have never taken flight without her moving to another city, agonizing now over what she was doing and with whom was both a blessing and a curse. A source of both unchaste self-gratification and abhorrent disgust. At times he would brood over the possibility of her being out, dressed to the nines, flirting with who knows who, the risk of her being swept off her feet by a younger, wealthier lover always there. Then, predictably, he'd become uncontrollably aroused and jackoff at the very thoughts that caused the bittersweet angst in the first place. Mercifully, this served to temporarily alleviate his trepidation, like a rapidly deflating balloon. Until the next time. And there always was a next time.

Despite this anxiety, Corey really did love the new Lauren he had helped to mold, although he had to admit her increasingly slutty demeanor did scare him a bit. She was becoming a borderline nymphomaniac, actively seeking out new and bizarre ways to stretch sexual boundaries, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon and spreading its wings. Truthfully a beautiful thing to behold. Or was it?

Compared to a lot of hotwife stuff on the web, her...their...encounters had been relatively mild. But the scale seemed to be tipping towards some rather unconventional nuances. It had begun with vanilla pillow talk, but now Lauren responded with much zeal when called a "whore, slut, or cunt". Six months ago, that would have, at a minimum, resulted in a slap across the face and the end to their already increasingly infrequent lovemaking. Now, it only served to fuel her arousal. Then, out of left field, came a sudden love for fellatio and receiving facials. Corey could count on one hand the number of times she'd given him head in their 30 years together. And most recently, at the hand of his best friend no less, the 48-year-old beauty showed fondness for the rough stuff. Slapping, pinching, choking. Never in a million years would Corey have imagined the girl who walked down the aisle with him 28 years ago could have an appetite for anything even remotely sadomasochistic. The kitten he'd married had turned into a lioness, and he was finding there was something to be said about the old maxim "be careful what you ask for". While he may have led her to the water for just a sip, she had jumped into the lake for a swim. Indeed, while this initially may have been about him chasing some juvenile man-cave fancies, in time, it caused the raven-haired beauty to rediscover something in her that was just begging for attention. And found it she did.

So she's on the cusp of becoming a whore's whore. Is that what you want? And just how far do you want her to take it?

Still sitting in the driver's seat under the dimly lit bulb of the garage door opener, Corey closed his eyes. Hands gripping the steering wheel, he allowed his thoughts to drift to his favorite fantasy of Lauren painting the town in a shimmering, tight fitting party gown. Laser lights bounced off the walls of a crowded club as she danced with abandon, throwing her head back, laughing at stupid jokes while being sandwiched between myriad of eager men, each thinking they had a shot with the hot and tipsy woman. A familiar ache in Corey's crotch unconsciously lifted his hands from the wheel and lowered them into his lap where they massaged a twitching and growing cock through the thick, dusty jeans.

She'd flirt at first, of course, allowing unsure hands to probe and grope, evaluating just how much freedom they were allowed. Soon enough, she'd favor a lucky guy and they'd break off to a corner of the bar, snuggling close and whispering naughty, suggestive things that only they could hear. As the drinks flowed, Mr. Lucky would try placing his hands in strategic places -- on her knee, across her shoulders -- in the age-old dance known as "getting to first base." Playing the good girl at first, she'd wiggle her ring finger at him and squirm away. He'd laugh at the diamond ring that Corey saved up months to buy. Miami bars were full of horny housewives who were out to get laid. Whether this one was really married or just pretending made no difference to him at all. It was clear she wanted to end up on her back and he was happy to oblige. After a few more drinks, hands were allowed to go wherever they wished, signaling it was time to go.

Back at his place, Mr. Lucky wasted no time in slipping off the skimpy dress, then in kneading those luscious tomato sized breasts. Pushing her head into his lap, her shiny black hair obscured the pretty little mouth bobbing up and down on the large and rippled cock. It seemed agonizingly apropos that she so willingly and gleefully serviced her lovers in a way that Corey had begged for years.