Ascending Lauren Ch. 17

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.

Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold/group sex 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.

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.

+++++

January 5th. Seven Weeks to go.

Had the Detrevrep Consortium been having its windows cleaned that clear Friday afternoon in Hollywood, those gutsy technicians would have wanted to take a break around the eleventh floor. There they would have delighted in seeing a black-haired woman in a brown pants suit on her knees behind a large desk, head bobbing up and down on the cock of the company's very wealthy owner.

Fortunately for Lauren Miller, there were no spectators as she fellated the pulsating flesh with purpose until she felt it recoil. Steadying herself for the blast to come, her lips formed a seal around the circumcised head and waited. Within seconds, the salty broth erupted, striking the back of her throat, and coating pearly white teeth with its silky texture. The sheer volume forced her to quickly swallow several times to keep the cum from exploding onto her clothing. As any good cocksucker knows, removing semen from a satin blouse is always a bitch.

After the grateful entrepreneur spilled the last drop into his business partner's mouth, Lauren stood and used her thumb to wipe away any residual evidence. Opening her briefcase, she tossed in the just inked contract between her company, Rekrap Industries, and Detrevrep, the result of going the extra mile at the customer appreciation party a week ago. An hour on her back had earned her firm a twenty-million-dollar payday and her, a substantial bonus.

"Nice doing business with you," Lauren cracked a smile as she snapped the leather case closed.

Stretch Madison zipped his fly shut with great mirth and reached into a desk drawer, removing an oversized white glass vial full of white powder. "Likewise. Although I believe that little addendum just now was for a little extra perk?"

Nodding with appreciation, Lauren carefully placed the vial into her purse and moved quietly to unlock the door of the opulent office. Upon her arrival, Madison had judiciously locked it to prevent any accidental intrusions.

"Remember," the Consortium's COO told her. "There's always more where that came from. I can always use a good orator."

The dark-haired executive seductively swabbed her mouth with an index finger and licked it.

"I'm sure there is," Lauren agreed. "No shortage of renewable energy around here."

+++++

That new year had begun much differently than last. For decades, Lauren and Corey Miller had wakened in the same bed on countless frosty Iowan mornings. Yet, this January, they found themselves light years apart. And in so many more ways than just miles. Six months ago, they'd been cruising on autopilot, comfortable in their twenty-eight-year marriage and finally learning to enjoy an empty nest. They were even growing content with their diminished sex life. Almost. That all changed when Lauren moved to Florida, a place they hoped to retire to. By Corey's own hand, he had turned his demure wife into a venereal dynamo, his incessant pestering whittling away at her resistance until she succumbed to his whims. What was left was a voluptuous nymphet that at times exhibited reckless sexual abandon, much different from the longtime PTA and softball coach known by her friends in Iowa.

The second half of the year had seen that previous life slip away and the Millers were certainly testing the old "absence makes the heart grow fonder" adage. Neither had been apart from each other for more than a few days, and the temporary adjustment was difficult. While the couple truly loved each other, they had willingly breathed life into longtime pillow talk, making Corey a legit cuckold and turning Lauren, all alone in a city where flesh is celebrated and sex worshipped, into a hotwife who was struggling just to keep from completely derailing. In his zeal to satisfy his own kink, Corey had unwittingly unleashed the bad girl in his wife, and neither could have foreseen the decadence that exploration would bring to their vanilla midwestern lives.

Throughout the couple's transformation, the Des Moines project manager, an alpha by nature in most aspects of his life, had discovered immense pleasure in candaulism and the inevitable sharing that such practices bring. As Corey's fetish developed - endorsed and cultivated by his loving wife - his kink quite unexpectedly deepened to find gratification in the humiliation that can be triggered from such experiences. Of course, Lauren shared in that culpability by actively seeking out avenues to cuck him. In many ways, it was the perfect symbiotic relationship. That's not to say there hadn't been bumps along the way, especially as of late, when Lauren gave into her own long repressed urges, selling her body in the sleaziest of ways in a back alley of downtown Miami. Even as unorthodox as their relationship had become, she knew it was wrong to keep such secrets from a life partner. And yet, it was also a thrill to have such affairs, and something, quite frankly, she wasn't sure Corey was all that opposed to.

Still, the fact that her husband had basically pimped her out -- without warning and not without some untoward malice - enraged Lauren, who sent him packing into the night, negating what had been until then a rather joyous, albeit twisted, holiday visit. Despite his repeated attempts to contact her, the headstrong wayward wife had resisted acknowledging him, sticking to her "don't call me, I'll call you" mantra. Right or wrong, her attitude had changed towards Corey. She loved him dearly, that much was certain, but just could no longer ignore there were places that other men could scratch that he simply could not. And Lauren found herself craving that scratching as much as her husband needed them to be.

The paradox was absurd, of course. A loving wife that loved to fuck others. And yet, through it all, the two were still together, and were destined to weather a few more long weeks of their self-imposed long-distance relationship.

+++++

As the holidays faded into the rearview mirror, Lauren continued to seek out erotic adventures where opportunities presented themselves. Whether it be a quick fuck with some stranger during a girl's night out, blowing a random guy at the grocery store who happened to wink at her at just the right time, or an outing with Tony and Tommy, her assignations continued to be audacious and promiscuous. She and coworker Amy even became regulars at Randy Sandy's, cheering on Autumn Breeze and the other exotic dancers. The club's tolerance for wanton behavior and relaxed attitudes grew on them, and they began counting the myriad of sex workers there among their friends.

And yet, the now shameless Iowan wife wouldn't have truly kept her word to 'cuck him to hell' if she didn't at least try and feed her husband's Frankenstein. She ramped up the torture by sending well-timed photos of her indiscretions, sometimes during the day when Lauren knew Corey would be in meetings with his team, or late at night when he'd be lying awake wondering what she was doing. Of course, he'd text her back, but there would be no response as the cuckoldress continued the radio silence she knew would both frustrate and excite.

Torture. Was it really? Was it such a bad thing to give him something he seemed to live for? To chip him with just enough of a wittol's favorite drug to keep him going until they could be together again? Perhaps they'd even go back to their vanilla ways.

From Corey's perspective however, that possibility seemed unlikely, given the photos and videos Corey had been receiving at random times during the day. Some were quick point-of-view clips, obviously recorded at her behest by one of her spur-of-the-moment lovers. Yet others were longer and of better quality, primarily filmed in vivid 4k, no doubt a product of the Christmas gift left behind after being thrown out. Although Lauren had no way of knowing the effects these small snippets had on her husband, Corey did indeed embrace them. Especially those where she and her lover lashed out with verbal abuse. The eroticized stew of jealousy, envy, and emasculation boiled strong as ever, and the yearning to feel them, torrid. Lauren's silent treatment actually served to enhance the overall cuckolding; his wife wasn't just sleeping around, she was flaunting it, while at the same time turning him into a sort of mime who could only look on sad faced, any voice he did have blatantly ignored.

Yes, it was a bizarre relationship, and it was barreling down its perverse tracks at full speed.

+++++

January 12th. Six Weeks to go.

"Lauren Regal?"

Lauren's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she sat in her office at Rekrap headquarters. No one had addressed her by her maiden name in decades.

"Who wants to know?"

The caller identified herself as Betty, a coordinator for an upcoming Iowa State reunion and a member of Lauren's graduating class. Betty was calling former students who had not yet responded to previous mailings. It was to be held in four short weeks, and time was of the essence. If Lauren acted right then, she'd get a great deal on a hotel package which included tickets to all the activities.

"You say there's been notices?"

"Oh yes, we started sending them at least six months ago. Maybe yours got lost in the mail."

A smile crept across Lauren's face. They hadn't been lost, they'd been conveniently ignored. And she knew why. After a few moments of mischievous reflection, the preppy caller got the answer she was hoping for.

"Put me down for one of those packages, Betty. Only the name is now Miller. That's right. M-i-l-l-e-r. Please send me that link so I can sign up. My husband and I would love to attend."

+++++

Corey sighed and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. The last few weeks had been a roller coaster and he didn't relish settling in for another night alone. His wife was out there somewhere that evening, a wayward aerial firework that had seemingly careened out of control after being lit by a match he himself had held to the wick. Perhaps he deserved the treatment he was getting. After all, he had underhandedly led her into a potentially volatile situation with those Cubans which was as stupid as it was for her to go into the alley with those guys to begin with. Both situations could have turned out very badly, but oddly enough, they didn't; the screams of pleasure he had heard coming from behind that door while playing pool had no hint of distress whatsoever.

His mind drifted back to Caroline's visit. What the hell was she doing, sending those pics of her mother? A little enablement of her own, maybe? Did she know? Did his little girl know? It was a horrible thought, but what other explanation was there? He hadn't spoken to his daughter since her and her mother went to Jack Carter's party. Either way, he absolutely dreaded their next conversation.

After taking a hot shower, Corey shrugged on a blue fluffy robe and closed the blinds in the study. Settling in for his nightly masturbation ritual, he fired up the computer and began hunting. First, he'd check to see if there were any new hotwife or cuckold stories posted in the plethora of online forums that catered to that taste. Then he'd check the free porn sites for any new video content. Day to day, finding anything new was hit and miss. Most were familiar clips which had already served their purpose many times. Ultimately though, nothing excited him as much as seeing his own wife in the throes of passion, so he would inevitably turn to the growing cache of mp4s Lauren had been sending. Say what you will, the films were fucking hot. While the couple were in the middle of a row, one thing was certain: these days that woman sure enjoyed getting fucked and was careful to see to it that he was aware of every minute detail. How many men could say that about their wives?

After a quick spin through the regular sites, Corey decided to begin with that video from the pre-New Year's eve party, the one with Lauren, Jack and that frat boy.

"Better than your ol' man?" Tony had asked Lauren while banging her good.

"Not even fucking close," she had whispered back with all seriousness.

Corey felt his six inches begin to poke through the robe.

Jesus, that's hot!

Fondly remembering the for-sale sign in the front yard, he was relieved that the days of watching this beautiful agony through a tiny screen were almost over.

Corey had just lubed up when the media player froze, replaced by the conference software on his laptop, which had automatically maximized and lit up with an incoming video call. It happened so fast he didn't even have a chance to put his dick away. His expression went from one of perplexed to elated when he saw Lauren's beautiful eyes light up the screen. She was sitting on the bed in her apartment, wrapped in a towel, looking freshly bathed.

The forlorn husband blinked his eyes. Oh my God, it's her.

"Hey," Lauren whispered, not looking up as she painted her nails.

"Hey," he croaked nervously. "How have you been? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

The awkwardness was palpable, like neither knew what to say. Finally, Corey cleared his throat.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

Lauren stopped painting and looked at the camcorder which had been strategically placed at the foot of the bed.

"Know anything about an upcoming Cyclone reunion in Ames?"

Corey faked deep thought. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

"No." That was a lie.

"Uh huh. Chick said that they'd been sending mailers for months. Seen any?"

"No." Another lie. The garbage was full of those postcards. He'd gotten at least one a month.

"Well, no worries. I'll be flying home that weekend and we can drive up together."

"Uh, sure."

"Don't sound so enthused," Lauren chided him. Standing up, she let the towel drop to the floor. The sight took his breath away. "If you don't want to take me, maybe Pauly will."

Corey gulped at the mention of her old college flame.

"It'll be just like old times, babe. You sitting in your car waiting for me while I finish him off in his fraternity house."

"I had to wait somewhere! I didn't know."

"Sure, you didn't. You picked me up on weekend mornings around the corner from his house. Did you think I'd just gotten out of church?"

"Lauren, I..."

"Save it, Twisty. We're going to the reunion. Maybe I'll take care of some unfinished business."

He glanced down as his cock poked from the robe and bobbed in the air.

The move did not escape Lauren. "Oh my God! STAND UP!"

Reluctantly, Corey rose until his waist was even with the desk. The oily texture of the lube was clearly visible along his erection.

"Some things never change."

She grabbed a black mini skirt from the closet and removed the hanger. "How about this one?"

"Are you going out?"

"Just answer the question."

"It's very short."

Lauren smiled and held a shiny silver halter top up to her bare chest. Corey's eyes bulged and his cock stood at attention. The whole damn thing was backless, showing off her tanned shoulder blades perfectly. Her tits would be free to jiggle nicely beneath.

"And this?" She peered into her tablet at him and saw his rigid dick. "Well, that's one answer." Without another word, Lauren slipped on the skirt and pulled the top over her head, adjusting it over her braless boobs. Finally, she put her hands on her hips and posed.

"Like what you see, perv?"

"You're the sexiest almost-fifty in Miami."

"Forty-eight, and don't you forget it."

Corey began to sit back down when Lauren barked at him. "NO! No way. You don't get off that easy. Stay standing."

The sixty-one-year-old stopped and stood straight.

"Take off the robe."

"This isn't Florida, babe. It's twenty-five degrees outside."

"Take off the fucking robe, Twisty."

Corey sighed and did what she asked. The automatic thermostat had shut the furnace off for the night and the chill now caressed his naked body.

"Stroke it for me," Lauren demanded as she crawled back onto the bed on all fours, the tight skirt stretching across her little ass quite nicely. She watched while he began to masturbate, standing as erect as his wracked back would allow, the lube providing a frictionless path. Although he'd been hitting the gym lately, it was going to take a long time to overcome the years of doughnuts and beer that had caused his overflowing belly and sagging pecs. Her thoughts drifted briefly to some of the fit men that she'd been with recently and it was hard to get excited about her husband's comparably flabby physique.

"Touch your nipples."

Corey's free hand went to his chest and began fingering the dark brown nubs, hair and liver spots dotting the aging areolae.

"To answer your question, I am going out tonight."

"Alone?"

"No. With Chloe."

"She's so young, Lauren. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I chose my friends, Corey. Not you, not anyone. You should see all the friends I have now. In fact, me and Amy are regulars at Sandy's now."

Corey's hand tightened around his cock, his breathing labored as he thought of his wife hanging out at the strip club. "All my friends are fucking me," she'd once told him.

"They even tried to get me on stage."

Oh God.

"D-d-do you dance?

Lauren cackled. "Nobody wants to see anyone my age like that."

"Don't bet on it."

"Oh really?" Kneeling on the mattress, the petite office manager pulled up the hem of the already short skirt, nearly revealing her bald slit.

"I know you'd like to see those men ogle me."

Corey remained standing naked behind the desk, robe around his ankles, one hand on his dick, the other playing with his nipples.

"Harder, perv."

His face grimaced as he stroked faster, the shaft extending just inches over the leather-bound desk pad.

Lauren wiggled her hips a bit and rolled the skirt up to reveal her snatch.

"Take a good look, Twisty. You know those customers would."

"Jesus."

She giggled and used both hands to spread the glistening folds. The control she had over him was a special kind of hot.

"They'd push their glasses all the way up the bridge of their debauched noses to get a better view of my pretty pink pussy, don't ya think?"

Eyes closed, Corey continued to masturbate, imagining a room full of horny men watching his wife strip. At one point the other hand dropped from his pecs so he could double fist, but immediately returned it to his chest upon being scolded.

"NIPPLES!"

The sight of her husband in the nude jacking off over his desk, his face scrunched with ecstasy, began to take its toll. Lauren felt her own body begin to react. Sliding the thin straps of the blouse off her delectable shoulders, the front of the barely-there top slipped down to just above her small breasts.

"They're all staring at me, babe. What are they thinking?"

Corey could only wheeze as he fucked his hand, mouth open and pulsing like a fish out of water. Pre-cum began to drip from the tip of his glans onto the desk pad.