Ascending Lauren Ch. 14

Taking one out, the realization at just how small he was unleashed a host of raw emotions. The theme was clear. The sexy clothes in her closet that he'd never seen were not for him. The lingerie and swimsuits clearly were not for him. And the size XL rubbers were certainly not for him.

What, then, WAS for him? Just memories like the one captured in the wedding photo?

A moan escaped from the undersexed husband's throat as he settled back on the bed, nestled between two fluffy pillows. What was she really up to down here? How many men had taken her to bed? This bed.

Why I am getting so hard?

Did the idea of Lauren running around behind his back actually turn him on?

Fuck, my dick is on fire!

Corey held the condom between his lips and unbuckled his trousers. Tighty-whities around his knees, he was amazed at how much it dwarfed his pink pencil by at least a quarter inch on each side. As he rolled it over his aging six-inches, he noticed it fit more like an ill-fitting shower-cap than an effective prophylactic.

So this is the size of my wife's lovers.

Gripping his dick through the loose sheath, Corey began to masturbate, thinking of the girth that Lauren's pussy must have endured while being impaled by a cock that could fill this out. How she must enjoy being filled to the fullest in a way he couldn't even in his prime. He pulled the red thong from his now unzipped pants and held them above his waist. Easing the small satin triangle to his crotch, he slid it up and down the quivering shaft. It angled itself toward the sexy panties as if yearning to learn what gaping hole might be behind it.

With one hand teasing his lonely penis, raw from weeks of knowing nothing but a rough palm and gym socks, he began fingering hypersensitive nipples through a pulled up knit polo shirt. The soft and wrinkled nubs soon became hard beneath the material, contributing intense pleasure to his private afternoon gratification.

So much for being bored.

+++++

Lauren was just leaving her office when her best friend and coworker Amy Rosinner appeared in the doorway.

"Last day of the year and you're not coming to the office party this afternoon?" the 26-year exuberant blonde asked with a tinge of disappointment.

The junior executive shook her head. "I had planned on it, but Corey's coming in today."

The legal secretary twirled her hair absentmindedly. It was no secret she had the hots for the executive, especially since the orgy at Sir Jack's place. Still, she was happy for her friend.

"That's right! You must be so excited."

"Yeah, it's going to be great. But he's only here through Christmas. Back to Iowa first thing Tuesday, so I want to make the most of the time. Plus, I've got that stupid party to chaperone tomorrow."

"Don't get me started. Thank God I didn't get roped into that. Watch yourself, I hear those guys are all hands."

Lauren slung her purse over her shoulder. "Thanks for the warning."

"We should do something New Year's Eve, huh?"

"You bet. Call me, okay?"

The women hugged and wished each other a Merry Christmas, promising to get in touch after the holiday.

+++++

Lauren was heavy in thought as she began the three-block walk home. She wanted to do something special for Corey but didn't have a clue as to what. From their long talks at night, it was evident he was barely hanging on. She knew he was living vicariously through her, soaking up every detail when she went out. Where and with who. What he was fishing for was clear, but it wasn't like she was hooking up with every guy she met. In fact, it was just the opposite. Hell, she'd only worn the dumb anklet he'd given her a couple times and it didn't really produce the desired results. It wasn't that guys didn't try - jewelry or not - but with working 12 hours a day, most nights her and Amy would just drink and dance. Sure, there was some flirting, but in the end, she wound up going home alone. But since it seemed his kink was the one thing that was helping him cope, she'd go ahead and make up stuff, telling him about imaginary lovers while he beat off on the other end of the line 1,500 miles away. Corey knew it was all bullshit but got off on it anyway. So what better way to spend their time together now than to really, REALLY crank up the dials on his fetish?

After yesterday's call with Zane -- and a round of fun with the Chairman - Lauren had settled in her bed, tablet in hand. She didn't just want to push her perverted husband's buttons, she wanted to punch them hard. But he was difficult to read, so she had to have the presence of mind to let him set the pace and guide her as to how for to take it.

Starting with some porn sites on the subject of "wife sharing", she checked off the stuff she already knew. Some guys with Corey's penchant just dug watching, some wanted to participate, and yet others, like Chloe had mentioned, were into more extreme flavors of the kink. Yet after reading through some very bizarre comments in some very diversified forums, she was surprised to learn that for many of these men, what preceded the actual act of sex was just as exciting. Whatever the "label", the common denominator seemed to be the thrill of the chase. Simply put, for these guys, the ogling, the flirting, the foreplay, the teasing, was almost as enjoyable as watching the sex itself. Each of those things fed their Frankenstein, arousal, and yes, their angst. The sum of those parts could drive a husband or boyfriend over the proverbial cliff, an emotional combustion rivaling the most explosive of conventional orgasms.

As Lauren entered the lobby of her apartment building, she barely noticed Harvey sneaking peeks at her from his desk. As she waited for the elevator, a million ideas on how to make this weekend enjoyable for Corey raced through her head. By the time she got to the 23rd floor, her smile grew into a wide, devilish grin.

She knew exactly what to do.

+++++

Corey's body was quaking, nearly to a breaking point, as he continued to rub the thong's small triangle against the underside of his skinny penis. Fully erect at thoughts of his wife servicing hoards of men in that very bed, he wondered how many had had their asses in this spot and rubbed their cocks on this very patch of satin? How many had watched Lauren sink her bald pussy down onto their throbbing dicks? How many guys had she graced with frilly and sexy lingerie, while all but abandoning her "mom" panties that lay gathering dust back home?

His mind was tormented with both pleasure and despair as he saw his wrinkled smallness adrift in the vast expanse of the extra-large sheath, serving only to emphasize the inadequacy of his manhood. At least eight times now his wife had witnessed one of these parachutes being unfurled onto a much more deserving cock, confirming to her what she had been missing for so long.

With the thin straps of the thong wrapped tightly around its circumference, Corey slid the makeshift noose up and down that inadequacy, over and over, until he could feel the semen bubbling up in his very blue balls. With the other hand working his soft pecs feverishly, he knew it wouldn't be long.

Fap, fap, fap.

Oh god, oh yes, oh Lauren...

He saw the lithe body of his bride next to him, bouncing up and down on the ripped body of a faceless man, crying out her lover's name, and looking down at the hapless husband as the lust for someone else built in her eyes.

Fap, fap, fap.

She was almost there, almost ready to release! He moaned, she moaned, her lover moaned.

Corey readied the thong to take the impending blast.

Fap, fap, fap.

He yelped. One, two, three more strokes and he'd be there. Yes, yes, yes!

Wait, what was that?

Shit, shit, shit.

What should have been a grand and monumental ejaculation was suddenly and rudely interrupted by four words he'd long to hear for months - just not right then.

"Hey, babe, I'm home!"

+++++

Lauren fully expected her husband to be sprawled out on the sofa, beer in hand, watching some afternoon sports program. Instead, the apartment was dark, save for the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Corey?

Setting her purse on the kitchen island, she heard rustling noises from the bedroom and what appeared to be a quick moving shadow just beyond the doorway.

"Babe?"

"In here!" a seemingly out-of-breath Corey called from the bathroom.

Peeking around the corner, she could see the love of her life sitting on the toilet, pants around his ankles.

"Uh, hey, well, this isn't the romantic reunion I was hoping for," she joked. Was it her imagination or was he hard?

The vexed 61-year-old rose and kicked the tousled trousers aside, leaving a half-erect cock bobbing in the middle of the bathroom. The look in his eyes said it all.

"I need you now," Corey pined, pulling her close with a deep kiss.

Lauren gasped when he pushed her against the doorjamb, his hands cupping both cheeks as their lips parted, tongues swirling. She raised a leg to his thigh and tossed her head back, exposing a tan neck to his advances. The couple's motions were halting and clumsy as they fumbled for each other's body. Twenty-eight years of marriage were fighting hard to overcome the awkwardness the retched long-distance relationship had imposed over the last six months.

Falling back on the bed, Corey's hands explored the woman he'd not seen for weeks. The passion began to rise between Lauren's legs as he unbuttoned her satin blouse. She needed him too. Not for the predictable two-pumps of carnal pleasure her husband might be good for, but for the life time of emotional happiness that was in his touch, his smell, his sweet words.

The sullied wife nearly succumbed and let him take her right then. And he would have, had she not managed to control her lust.

The plan. This simply wasn't in the plan!

Corey damned near wept when she slithered out from underneath him and rolled off the mattress.

"Later, babe," she panted, one arm out Heisman trophy-like, the other buttoning up her top.

"C'mon, Lauren, I need you!" Corey whined, quickly losing what rigidity he had mustered.

"We have all the time in the world, sweetie. Don't you want to go do something fun this afternoon?"

"Well, I sort of thought we just were..."

Lauren laughed that off and pulled a pair of his swim trunks from the dresser drawer. "Here, put these on. Let's go to the beach!"

+++++

Despite being denied his wife's delectable treasure, Corey was happy as a clam as they walked arm in arm, sandals in hand, feet in the sand. This particular beach was located a quick ride-share from downtown Miami. Halfway between Hollywood and Fort Lauderdale, it didn't seem to have as much traffic as others. Quite a find in such an urban setting, it was clearly a spot not advertised to the tourists.

Lauren was dressed in a loose off-shoulder tee and cotton shorts which allowed the sea breeze to hint as to what was beneath. Every now and again, Corey caught a glimpse of a bright blue swimsuit. Was this the skimpy two-piece he'd seen in the drawer?

For his part, the project manager had opted for a light polo shirt and knee length swim trunks. Although the water temperature was barely tolerable, at least to his pale, Midwestern winter skin, he hoped the unusually high air temp of 85 would entice Lauren into a lengthy tanning session so he could drink in the beauty he'd been missing.

Corey, of course, was unaware that his wife too was making some observations. There was something so subtle about her husband's appearance that she couldn't quite put her finger on it. His build seemed slimmer, his stride stronger. More like Corey in his prime. There was no question his aging physique could still be described as portly, brought on by too many donuts and lack of exercise over the years. But there were little things that were made more noticeable by time and distance. The sag below his chin was less perceptible, his man-boobs and gut less prominent as the wind pinned the knit shirt against his body. Had he firmed up and lost weight?

Starting from the south parking lot, the pair walked north, taking their time to enjoy each other's company. Corey caught her up on the latest timelines for the hospital project that was in its last phase. By the end of February, he should be able to move down permanently, leaving the sale of the house in the hands of a competent realtor. He talked about getting a head start on packing photos and dishes. Lauren apologized for not being there to help, lamenting the long hours she was working to retain clients. With any luck, there might be a week in January where she could return home and provide some support.

Now would be a good segue into the customer appreciation event, the office manager told herself.

Corey listened with interest as she explained being picked to chaperone the party and just not being able to get out of it. Surprisingly, the revelation was met with a shrug.

"Okay, no biggie. You go do your job and I'll hang at the apartment. How late can a work function go? Ten? Eleven?"

"Well, pretty late from what I understand. They'll likely be an after-party."

"Okay, whatever," Corey looked down to examine a dead crab. "I'm sure there will be a game on."

Lauren blinked. That wasn't part of the plan either. She knew very well the after-party might get wild and wanted him to be part of anything that might go down. Quite frankly, he needed to be part of it. Stephan Jones was an asshole, but he was right on one account: if things got out of hand, it would be just the sort of thing Corey got off on. Didn't he deserve that much?

"Look, you could go with me."

"What? Doesn't one need to be a Rekrap employee to attend?"

"One does. But I could pass you off as my personal assistant, you know, someone who manages my calendar. You can even take pictures for the company newsletter."

"Me? You're assistant? Yeah, right."

"No really, you'd be good at it. It's only for a couple hours. Puh-leeeeeze?"

Corey stared at her like she was nuts. "I don't know, it seems kind of...wrong."

She was losing the battle. Okay, you want to go there?

"You mean like sending me into the lion's den as Ashley the girlfriend, huh?"

He winced. Those enchanting eyes held so much disappointment. "Yeah, you got me there. Sure, boss. I'll be your assistant. But I draw the line at sleeping with you."

Lauren chuckled. "No worries, that's an extra five minutes I could use back in my day!"

Corey's face fell at the insinuation but broke into a wide smile as they began chasing each other down the beach. They were having fun and cherishing every moment. So much that he nearly missed the white sign warning of nude bathers beyond that point.

"Whoa. I guess we turn back, huh?" He knew his wife was bolder these days, but a nude beach?

Lauren frowned. "Why? C'mon, it will be fun!"

"Really? I dunno. Do we have to take our clothes off?"

While a large part of him was secretly thrilled with the idea of seeing her topless -- or more - he didn't relish the prospect of putting his old junk out there for all to see. Twenty years ago, he might have been game, but now? These days his aging cock behaved more like a shy turtle. Having it on display would certainly NOT improve that reticence. In fact, compared to the young men who were surely just ahead, the embarrassment might be too much. Still, the irony of the situation did not escape him. For years he'd been trying to get Lauren to wear less. And here she was encouraging him to do the same. Quite fucking amusing.

"No silly, it's clothing optional, you dope. There are plenty of people fully clothed."

Corey's eyes narrowed. "You've been here before?"

Lauren grinned. And so it begins.

"Maybe," she winked, though she'd never set foot in the area.

"Whaaaattt?" Corey bleated as the playful 48-year-old skipped ahead, her jet-black mane whipped by the ocean breeze. The idea that his wife had been here before, frolicking naked with the natives, gave him reason to pause.

Lauren in the wild.

The turtle began climbing out of its shell.

+++++

The couple ventured past the warning sign, Lauren several paces in front of her husband. Being the holidays, the small number of tourists that knew of the place had, for the time being, left the surf to the locals. Dozens were now enjoying the respite from crowds and lay scattered about on blankets, some with nothing on but what God had given them.

Twenty yards ahead, a group of college kids had set up a makeshift volleyball net and were taking advantage of the space they wouldn't have had otherwise. Comprised of maybe a half-dozen girls and as many guys, they seemed to be enjoying Christmas break with glee. Four of the coeds were topless, with most of the boys al natural, save for one chubby fellow who was content to play referee.

Stopping a respectable distance from the game, Lauren removed a blanket from her oversized beach bag and spread it across the sand. Thankful for a rest, Corey stretched out the length of the cloth and propped himself up on his arms. Lauren emptied the contents of her bag, lining up tanning lotion, some lip balm, and a small Bluetooth speaker. After a few minutes, she announced she had to pee and left for a nearby shed which doubled as a restroom and shower.

Well, Corey thought as he watched her shuffle past the players, this is certainly different.

His attention was drawn to the youthful exuberance of the game. Well, that and the bare breasts bouncing freely as the girls served and set. Never having been to a nude beach, he was amazed at how casually people carried themselves, as if they were in a grocery store or any other public place. Amazing too was the indifference shown by all, as more johnsons than Corey could count swung about in the open air. From his vantage point, the guys playing volleyball were of various sizes -- a couple good enough to do porn -- but all were rather flaccid. No erections, despite the wealth of nudity surrounding them. It was clear they were used to this; just another day at the beach.

Unlike those boys, however, naked 20-year-old females DID affect him, and in the most predictable ways. Adjusting tenting swim trunks, he hoped the novelty would soon wear off, and with it the stiffy that was surely to embarrass him if he had to stand or - Jesus - remove them. That hope was quickly dashed when he saw Lauren leisurely strolling back from the outhouse, rocking the blue mesh string bikini he'd seen in the lingerie drawer.

Holeeee Shit! he gasped as she neared, passing closer to the volleyball game than really necessary. The two-piece was far racier than any other he'd seen on her, even the gold one worn on Myles' yacht. The mesh material of the top, and small patch of the bottoms, barely held enough netting to conceal what was beneath. As Lauren passed the coeds, one of the guys taking a water break spoke to her. He stood like a bronze Adonis, his cock hanging proudly like the nozzle of a gas pump; not erect, but not completely soft. He said something that made her laugh, causing those lovely taut abs to quiver as she shifted her feet in the hot sand. Corey closed his eyes, trying to overhear their conversation. The damn breeze and surf made that impossible.

Moments later, he felt a shadow blocking the sun. There was his hot wife, standing over him, hands on her hips.

"Are you falling asleep already?"

Up close, the swimsuit was even more translucent. Although Lauren was nearing 50, her tomato-sized breasts sat high on her chest, the sheer mesh rubbing against tender nipples, hardening them through the thin material. She was still bald below - the pasture had been kept well grazed in his absence - allowing the bottoms to fold into her slit, creating the most shameless cameltoe. Whatever anxiety she had about a few varicose veins was surely unfounded. No one was looking there.