Ascending Lauren Ch. 13

"These guys can have anything they want."

+++++

The score was tied 17-17 at half-time as the teams jogged into their respective locker rooms. The Taffy Snapper was rocking now with fans from both sides enjoying some good-natured trash talking. Hands messy from sampling wings, Lauren used her phone's virtual assistant to place a call.

"Corey."

Seconds later, her husband's face filled the device.

"Did you see that?" he yelled. "D came up big in the second. Now we need better from the O line in third."

"They'll do it!" Lauren predicted cheerfully. "These Texans are gonna find out which team rules!"

Corey eyebrows arched. Two men seated on either side of her were shaking their heads, clearly displeased by the comment.

"Let me guess. Longhorn fans?" he asked peering into the small screen.

Lauren suddenly became aware of just how close the guys were to her. They had been looking at social media comments about the game and had, over time, squeezed in tight to read them.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she sputtered, placing a hand on each of their square shoulders. "This is Alex and Vinnie. Nice guys even though their team are LOSERS. Boys, this is my husband, Corey." She decided against mentioning how they came to meet.

The project manager sat upright in his recliner. The sight of his beautiful wife locked between some Cowboy and what appeared to be a personal trainer on steroids was to say the least...intriguing. At best, it did nothing to mollify the ember that seemed to burn everlasting in his crotch. Both men smiled congenially and waved at the phone.

"Sorry, guys, Cyclones got this one," Corey said, giving them a good-natured thumbs down.

"You might be right, sir," Vinnie replied politely. "But at least now we know there's at least one pretty woman in Iowa."

Alex nodded in agreement, beaming at Lauren.

Corey ignored the assertion. He had to or his mind might drift to less than pure thoughts.

"Hey, listen, babe, I have good news!" he continued.

Lauren's face lit up when she learned about his interview. The date sounded familiar, but being on her third Hurricane, couldn't quite place it. Whatever, it didn't matter. "That means you'll be here for Christmas after all!"

Just then Alex elbowed her and pointed to the television. The second half was about to begin.

Lauren squealed at seeing the players take the field. "Wooo hoo! GO CYCLONES!"

Corey heard a mixture of boos and cheers from the bar crowd, followed by a sudden silence as the service disconnected.

Lowering the phone to his lap, he shook his red and gold shaker at the TV with lackluster enthusiasm.

Yeah, woo the fuck hoo.

+++++

The third quarter droned on in a boring defensive battle, allowing Lauren to get to know her new friends better. Alex's family was originally from Oklahoma, his family bought a cattle ranch in south Texas when he was just, as he put it, knee-high-to-a-grasshopper. Growing up in a small town, all he knew for 18 years was ranching. Just before his nineteenth birthday a drunk driver crossed the solid yellow line on a lonely two-lane state highway near El Paso and killed both parents. Losing the desire to return home and continue ranching, he finished school with a bachelor's degree in marketing and, thinking he'd like to see the world, opened his own travel agency at age 25. It was modestly successful, but promoting Texas was not going to make him a rich man. He soon realized the real money -- and adventure -- seemed to be in Miami, where the travel industry is on a whole other level. Now at age 32, he was successfully booking lucrative sightseeing tours and cruises every day.

"And the cowboy hat?" Lauren asked with a grin, tugging on its brim.

"What can I say? I'm proud of where I come from."

She turned to Vinnie, placing an unsteady hand around a powerful bicep. "Watta 'bout you? Are you one of those guys that hangs out on the beach and lifts weights?"

"Me?" the dark-haired man chuckled. He handed her a business card. "Hardly. I'm a corporate videographer. HR films, holiday shows, all that jazz."

"Could have fooled me," Lauren continued to slur her words and squeeze his muscles. The Hurricanes were having a predictable effect and sitting between the two well-packaged hunks was most distracting. "Are you from Texas too?"

"No ma'am. Louisiana actually." Just as Vinnie began to flirt a little, the Cyclones chose to score.

"In your face, in your face!" she jumped up and needled the men, cheering alongside the other Iowa State fans.

Alex shook his head in disgust and excused himself to the restroom. Vinnie offered to get more drinks and sauntered off to the bar. Lauren couldn't help but follow the strapping young Texan as he made his way through the crowd. The tight western shirt highlighted a barrel chest that tapered nicely to a trim waist, disappearing into equally tight jeans. While he'd been sitting next to her watching the game, it was hard to miss the impressive size of his belt buckle, and what lie beneath. When Cartwright ducked into an alcove where the restrooms were, the Cyclone fan's gaze connected with Sally's across the room for just an instant, enough to see the waitress smile and wink. Smirking, Lauren looked away and dismissed her with a wave.

+++++

With six minutes left in regulation, the Longhorns were finally able to penetrate the Cyclone defense and made the score 24-24. The Cyclones responded in kind with a long drive that ate clock, resulting in another seven points, leaving the University of Texas little time on the board to counter. A quick three-and-out by Iowa State allowed Austin's finest to get within field goal range, but that wouldn't be enough to even tie the game. When Lauren's fourth Hurricane arrived, there was 1:32 left on the game clock and Iowa State led 31 -- 27.

"You're going down, Ames," Alex pointed at her, shaking his finger.

Lauren laughed and grabbed the wavering digit, taking his big hand down to the table in a mock arm-wrestling match. She could have released it but chose to maintain her grip.

"No way, Austin, this game is OVER. O-V-E-R!"

"Longhorns by four!" the young man shot back confidently. He looked so cute, in a Howdy Doody sort of way.

Smirking, Lauren was feeling very randy now. Leaning into him, the growing fire between her legs and the rum coursing through her veins emboldened her. "Care to back up that up?"

"What are you thinking?" Alex grinned, expecting some silly wager.

"Cyclones win, I cook you and Vinnie a nice Iowa home-style dinner."

"Well, that sounds pretty darn nice. And if the Longhorns take the game?"

Lauren's smile widened and she gave him a devilish wink. "Then you and Vinnie choose your dessert."

He hadn't expected that. Maybe "I'll run around the bar singing the praises of Texas". But certainly not that.

"I-I-I think you may have had a bit too much to drink," Alex nodded at her drink. He'd never been propositioned by a married woman, and this wreaked havoc with his Texan sensibilities. While she was definitely attractive in her form-fitting jersey and tight yoga pants, the ring on her finger was tough to get past. His parents had taught him to respect the sanctimony of marriage. She was drunk to boot, and he was not one to take advantage of intoxicated women.

"Yeah," Lauren hiccupped, petting her mouth. She hugged his arm. "I guess I am a little tipsy."

As they stared into each other eyes, one with hopeful lust, the other with indecisive bewilderment, the place erupted into cheers. The Cyclone defense had held, handing them their first win over Texas in many years. The pretty brunette tore herself away from the handsome cowboy and leapt to her feet, glad-handing other nearby Iowa State fans and singing their fight song. Minutes later she returned to the booth only to find it completely empty. Scanning the bar, Alex and Vinnie were nowhere to be found. They had simply vanished.

+++++

Corey bounced from the recliner and fist pumped the air. What a great finish! Excited over his team's win, he awkwardly pranced around his living room and began texting everyone he knew. This was one for the history books! He was so proud of the players. They had a game plan and stuck to it! One by one, the texts were answered with an equal amount of zeal for the boys from Ames.

Crazed enthusiasm oozed from every pore as he read through the trash talk. There was one from Sean, one from Toby and a couple from the guys at work. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Then he noticed one message from which he had not yet received a response.

And it was arguably the most important one.

+++++

While it was only a short two block walk to the busy street where Lauren's apartment building was located, the early December nightfall and those damn Hurricanes caused her to veer way off course. After finding herself on unfamiliar streets, she finally spied the red aviation lights on the rooftop of her high rise to the south. Cursing at getting lost, the office manager began stumbling in that direction.

What the hell had happened to Alex and Vinnie, anyway? Like, I was a sure thing! Drunk, horny, and willing. Who'd of thunk those guys would play the noble knight card? If they'd been any other red-blooded American men, she'd be well on her way to getting fucked. Which was, Lauren decided, something she desperately needed that night. Corey's fetish be damned; her hunger for sex at that moment had nothing to do with his gratification, and everything to do with hers.

While working towards the blinking red lights in the sky, the diminutive junior executive was now walking through a part of town that she'd normally shun. Smoke shops, adult movie theatres, and billiard halls dominated this stretch. Lauren nervously passed by a few of these, silently accosted by the lecherous eyes of homeless men laying on the sidewalk. The bright lights of the boulevard were only a block away, so she began walking faster, a spring in her step, wanting only to get home to a hot shower...and The Chairman.

It was then she became aware of a car which had slowed and was now rolling slowly next to her, matching her gait.

"Hey baby, looking for a date?" a man with a heavy Spanish accent asked.

"Hell yeah, I'm a football fan too!" another voice yelled from the old rusty Lincoln, referencing the jersey. "How much to score a touchdown tonight, muchacha?" Others in the car howled hysterically at the American football reference.

"C'mon, now, you heard the man. How much for little a amor, pretty lady?" the driver asked again, keeping pace with her. The woman was clearly wasted.

Lauren stopped and turned towards the large, dilapidated town car. Something about that last voice was familiar. Pure, genuine surprise washed over her and the two men in the front seat. Sure-as-shit, it was that dirt bag Raul and his buddy Juan. In the backseat, a third Latino man peered from a rolled down window.

Raul pulled alongside the wide-eyed woman. "Well, I'll be damned. Didn't think we'd be seeing you again, Iowa. You remember, Juan, right? And that's Hector in the back. What the hell are you doing in this neighborhood, baby? This is no place for a girl like you."

All Lauren could do was nod. A girl like me? He had no idea. Oddly, it wasn't fear she felt taking control; it something much, much darker.

"So, is she working or not?" the man in the back whined, not knowing of his friends' earlier encounter. "If not, I know a broad in Overtown."

Remembering how timid and white bread the brunette had been at the bar, Juan turned to the backseat with a hushed voice. "I don't think she's on the clock, amigo. Cracker all the way." Then to Raul, "Let get out of here, man. I got bad vibes."

Raul agreed and began to pull away. "See ya round, Iowa."

Inexplicitly, Lauren stomped her foot and called out as the wheels on the old car began to roll.

"WAIT!"

It stopped in squeaky protest as the Cuban tapped the brakes.

She took a deep breath, then strolled up to the battered ghetto cruiser. Putting her hands on her hips, she channeled her inner hooker.

"What if I, uh, you know, was working? How much?"

Raul smirked. This girl had never been paid for sex in her life. But he played along. "That's usually something you'd tell us." Then for emphasis, he added, "Puta."

Lauren thought about that for a second. She kind of like being in the drivers seat. Or so she thought.

"Five-hundred," she gushed, thrusting out her small chest like she'd seen the girls in the movies do. It was the first figure to pop into her head.

The men looked at each other. "Five bills for all three," Juan stated flatly, making the terms clearer.

"I-I-I..." Lauren had actually meant each, but then, looking at the condition of their clothing and ride, understood they likely had nowhere near that kind of cash on them.

"Yeah, okay."

She spent the next 30 seconds trying to comprehend what she'd just done. Lauren Miller, chief office executive with Rekrap Industries, mother of two and wife of a loving husband, had just negotiated terms for selling her body to three strangers.

Now what?

Hector kicked open the rear door and beckoned her to have a seat in the back. Cautiously, Lauren walked over and peered in. It was filthy, with a rancid, unpleasant stench. Discarded beer cans and several empty fast-food bags littered the floorboard. She wanted to puke, to turn and flee, run and scream that it was all a mistake. But something that night lifted her legs and made her slide onto the torn and sticky vinyl seat. Hector leaned across her heaving chest and closed the door, his foul breath snaking up her nostrils like a bad dream.

"Vamos!" he barked at Raul.

+++++

Corey threw another log on the fire and stood at the refrigerator door looking for dinner. He sighed. Leftover turkey...again. Removing the plastic container, he began making a sandwich.

While lathering whole-wheat bread with mayonnaise, the loving husband was still bathing in the glow of the Cyclones' monumental win. He couldn't possibly know just a few minutes prior, his beautiful wife had negotiated selling herself for a pittance. Nor could he have known that she had just climbed into a piece-of-shit Lincoln with three Cuban strangers who had every intention on getting their money's worth. He didn't see her nervous face looking out the window from the backseat as streetlights floated by, or the long fingers of a deviant caressing her leggings. And he certainly wasn't aware when the long dark car glided to the back of a poorly lit dead-end alley, nestled amongst restaurant fryer grease containers, dumpsters and barred doors.

The project manager settled into the living room recliner, sandwich by his side, and channel surfed through various game summaries from several news sources.

Such a great contest! Iowa would not soon see another game like that one!

Sure enough, the jubilation had spilled over to the nine o'clock news.

While Corey ate the reheated turkey with purpose, his sexy wife was also voraciously swallowing a slab of hot meat well south of the Mason-Dixon line. Minutes earlier, Hector had started the party by lowering her head onto his swarthy, snake-like penis. "Chupa mi polla, perra!" Suck my dick, bitch! the strange man cried out as she deep-throated the thick cock. That was just the beginning. Lauren proceeded to use her mouth and hands on all three men, rotating between the front and back seats, until they had each shot their loads somewhere in the vicinity of her hair, face, and jersey. It hadn't been easy, jockeying for room on the floorboards amongst the trash, but in the end, each man had cum, somewhat surprised at her youthful enthusiasm when they sprayed her with their sticky love.

Corey quickly dispatched the sandwich and switched to a streaming service. He was beginning to tire of local fanboy evaluations of Iowa State's afternoon triumph. Unbeknownst to him, 1,500 miles away in one dim Miami alley, his lovely wife was also getting rave reviews.

+++++

"Such a NASTY bitch!" Raul exclaimed as he watched Hector's cum drip from Lauren's forehead. Ready to go again, a blowjob was not what Raul had in mind this time. Grabbing a fistful of black mane, the Cuban pulled the newly minted prostitute out of the Lincoln and slammed her chest against a door encased with wrought iron security bars. Fortunately, Lauren saw the metal coming and stuck out her hands, gripping the vertical slats before her breasts hit. The nose wasn't so lucky. As Raul pulled her hips towards him, it slid down the bars until she was able to maintain a grip. He cared not about the damage to the bitch's lily-white face. With one fell-swoop, the man pulled her leggings down, exposing a smooth, white pussy.

"Nice cunt, Iowa," Raul snarled, grabbing the bald snatch. "Reeeeel nice. Me and the boys are going to split this little hole of yours until it bleeds."

Hearing his words did not alarm Lauren; it merely triggered a torrent of fluids to flood the man's rough hand, belying just how turned on she was.

"Goddamn, this whore is in heat!"

With the top of her yoga pants now around her thighs, Lauren heard his pants drop, and the tear of a condom pack. Seconds later, the head of his wrapped cock was pushing past the folds of her pussy. He threw his head back as he gripped her hips and growled at the sky. "Uhhhhh, so tight!"

"OH GOD JESUS YESSSSS!" she squealed as her moist canal easily took the length of the big Latino's dick. Her passionate cries increased ten-fold as Raul began to methodically fuck the little tramp in the middle of the desolate alley.

+++++

Corey fired off a few more texts about the victory, then turned his attention to the nationally televised late game. One of those last messages was to Lauren. She hadn't responded to any of his texts since early evening, and he simply wanted to reiterate how much he loved and missed her.

COREY: I know you're probably too busy to answer, but I hope you're celebrating the victory in some special way. Call later. Luv ya!

+++++

"OH GOD, FUCK ME!" Lauren shouted, "PLEASE, PLEASE, FASTER, HARDER! DON'T STOP!"

Raul was working up a real sweat as he pounded the mulatto cock into the slut from behind. He could see her white knuckles gripping the bars of the iron door and tightening with every thrust. Gathering her hair into a ponytail, he pulled hard, causing her head to snap back. Deep, guttural moans was all the pretty brunette could muster, with an occasional squeal piercing the warm, muggy air.

Corey was, of course, oblivious to the perversions that were happening right then in downtown Miami. He couldn't see three men gathered around his wife in a half-circle in the back of a dead-end alley, illuminated only by a single amber dusk-to-dawn light. He didn't hear when Lauren finally came at the top of her lungs from Raul's forceful fucking, nor did he witness the Cuban tearing off the rubber and shooting his second load of the night over the back of her jersey, where most of it landed squarely on the name MILLER embroidered between the shoulders.

Spent, Raul stumbled back towards the car, affording Lauren the briefest of chances to turn around. What little makeup she'd worn for game-day was now starting to run. Hector stepped up, grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back against the iron gate.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch?"

With her back to the metal bars, he forced her down on her haunches, where she found a slightly larger cock waiting for her. Slurping it into her mouth, she fellated him again, allowing him to fuck her face without mercy.

"SUCK MY DICK, WHORE," Hector demanded repeatedly, eventually able to bury most of his length into her willing mouth. The pace was so torrid Lauren nearly passed out.