Ascending Lauren Ch. 17

Without a word, the wayward wife bent over the wooden bench, hands braced against the back wall. Luke couldn't believe his good fortune as she presented him with the most delicious hairless, meaty clam he'd ever seen. Even in magazines. Unsure of himself at first, he grasped her small, soft hips, as if she was somehow a porcelain doll that could easily break. Sex with Milly had been straightforward and lasted only a few minutes. Although he'd seen doggystyle plenty of times online, the excitement of finally doing it for real nearly caused him to spill his load.

Moving closer to the pulsing, glistening pussy, Luke held his dick as steady as his trembling hands could and gently rubbed the head against the outer lips. At first it tickled, but the more he rubbed it on the velvety folds, the more he wanted to slide it into her inviting hole. Not wanting to hurt the wonderful woman who was giving him this special gift - and in such an unorthodox way -- he continued to move it around her vulva as the moist slit gasped and pleaded to be fucked. The way she was moaning and backing into his groin assured him pain wasn't a concern.

Sensing his hesitation, Lauren took over and pressed her ass into him, just enough to encourage the first inch or two to slip effortlessly into her already moist slit. As her mons widened to accept the timid cock, she decided it was time to turn up the heat.

"Do you want to fuck me, Luke?"

Gritting his teeth, the young man simply grunted. The bashfulness was slowly being replaced by the inner neanderthal that all men -- mousy or not - channel when presented with such an opportunity.

"Then do it baby. Take me. FUCK ME NOW!"

Luke persona changed in an instant as he snarled and pushed in, a good amount of his length slipping easily into hallowed heat of her long-married cunt.

"Yesssss, just like that," Lauren mewled, her hands sliding down the cedar wall to the bench, sweaty black hair dangling in front of her and clinging to her shoulders and chest.

And so, the carnal dance between the hotwife whore and a wide-eyed vestal neighbor she hardly knew began. The one-hundred-eighty-degree room filled with grunts and moans, accented by the sound of skin-on-skin as balls slapped rhythmically into taint and ass. It started awkwardly but settled in when the mild-mannered neighbor found his long-suppressed porn star stride, ramming his rarely used manhood deep into the slutty woman's willing hole while admiring the sleekness of body as it melded with his. It was an encounter he wanted to last forever!

Tossing his head back in unadulterated pleasure, Luke let go a primal howl that resounded off the walls. Sparks flew between the two unlikely lovers as their bodies maintained a steady pace, their mutual cries of carnal passion rising above the heated mist and daring anyone to interrupt them. In his mind, Walters was longer a meek mollycoddle, but rather a Viking who was fucking his pillaged whore in a decidedly outrageous manner.

"Faster!" Lauren urged as telltale spasms began to rock her. "Deeper!"

Like the great warrior he imagined, Luke forced Lauren down on the bench in a prone position. He was in control of this slut as she moaned for his cock, her chest and belly sliding along the warm wood as he pummeled her. Enticed by the sleek and undulating ass in front of him, the triggered resident fucked to impress, aggressively plunging, pushing, and driving his steel deep until it seemed like it was scraping the very bottom of her womb. Lauren felt every delightful inch as it slid in and out of her whore cunt, the rise of a much-needed orgasm on the horizon.

"OH YES! OH YES! OH YES!"

"You like that?" Luke murmured, childlike at first, then in a much deeper voice, "WELL, DO YOU SLUT?"

He could feel the faint tugs of his own release bubbling up.

"YES, YES, fuck that cunt! Do me! Do me!"

"I am...I am...I am!" the young man yelped, almost apologetically as sweat poured from his contorted face.

Lauren's eyes shut tightly as the whole room began to spin. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

Luke knew he was close as he labored from behind her. Seeing that dark hair whip around like the adult film star he likened her to was something out of a wet dream.

"Gonna cum..."

Heeding the gentle bachelor's kind warning, Lauren put aside her own orgasm and acted, quickly squatting on the bench. Ripping off the condom, she presented an open mouth, not unlike the videos Luke had seen online. The debauchery of it all suddenly overcame the nerdy Viking, causing him to lurch forward and lose control. Odd animal-like snorts were accompanied by wave after wave of pent-up lust as weeks' worth of thick, gelatinous jizz showered Lauren's hair and face. Even after the last milky drop had oozed from his deflating tool, he stood with dick in hand, not believing the real-life scene he'd just been a part of. The sight of his cum cascading down the chin of the gorgeous neighbor and onto the whiteness of her bikini top band was one he'd not soon forget. What would his friends think of him now?

As the afterglow faded, the now familiar residents dressed in silence. Lauren wiped her soiled hair and face with the towel and dropped it in the used-cloth bin. They carefully pushed on the already open door and peered into the gym. To their relief it was still empty, sending them scurrying for the door to the lobby in an attempt to remain unseen. Once there, their heart rate and pace slowed. It was now just a quick walk to separate elevator banks.

Any yet, while the salacious tenants may have been congratulating themselves for flying under the radar of everyone else, their hasty retreat failed to see the much older concierge lurking in the shadows behind the rowing machines. Chuckling softly, he pocketed his phone and headed towards his station at the front desk.

That's a keeper.

+++++

Saturday, January 13.

The kindly waitress placed a hefty dinner plate in front of the lonely looking man who had taken up residence in a corner booth away from other diners.

"Pastrami on rye, pickles on the side."

The gray-haired gentleman was friendly enough. About six months ago, he'd begun coming in at least once a week and always settled in the same spot, a Cyclones baseball cap pulled low over his brow.

That day, he looked particularly distressed. "You okay, sugar?" she asked sympathetically.

Nodding, Corey shook some salt over his slaw and picked at the hot food. Another Saturday afternoon with nothing to do. At least he had professional football the next day, and the collegiate National Title game was Monday night.

He thought back to the previous evening and wondered if Lauren had indeed "gotten hers." That was the toughest part, the not knowing. Staying behind was his biggest regret. Had he been there with her, he would know when she got home, known she was safe. Lately though, she'd been increasingly mysterious, leaving him to wonder what she was up to and with who. Perhaps Lauren was doing that on purpose, living up to her promise to support his fetish. And yet, what if there were far more nefarious reasons, like an affair she wasn't telling him a about? A romance that could cost them their marriage? Either way, it left a huge hole in his heart and a lump in his pants. He hated himself for being aroused at the prospect of losing his wife, but he couldn't ignore it just because he didn't like it. Corey had erotized the risk to such an extent that living on the razor edge of disaster and thinking of the peril had driven him to some of the most gratifying orgasms lately.

As he stewed about his current predicament and lamented being more than a thousand miles away, a large body cast a long shadow across the booth's table. From under the bill of his hat Corey could see two oil-stained jeans legs and a pair of dark brown work boots standing near. Fuck. There was no question who it was.

Zane Picardo.

"How ya doing, Cors?"

Not bothering to look up, the older man swallowed a bite of pastrami. "Never better."

"We need to talk, buddy."

Finally, Corey raised his head. Zane was a large, rough, and saucy as ever. "So, talk."

The biker shook his head and pointed to a tavern across the street. "Not here. Clancy's Pub."

The green and red Christmas lights of the dive bar across the two-lane state highway were twinkling in the twilight. Apparently, the owner had not gotten the memo about the holidays being over.

"Fine."

Throwing a twenty and a ten on the table, Corey followed his one-time best friend out of the diner and into the freezing cold.

+++++

The amicable motorcycle mechanic set down a pitcher of beer and two frosty glasses on a shaky two-top and adjusted the wobbly foot on one of the four legs. As the two men shrugged off their winter coats, they threw quick waves at several friends scattered about the local honky-tonk, including one of Lauren's best friends, Gail Weathersby.

After much useless conversation about the weather and the latest sports updates, Zane chose to take on the elephant in the room directly.

"Why you been shutting me out, man?"

Corey leaned back in his chair, anxiously looking around the bar.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

The project manager raised his eyebrows at his lifelong friend. "I have to spell it out for you?"

Zane shook his head. "No man, you don't. I slept with Lauren. I get it."

Corey's psyche reeled at hearing his best friend say it out loud. It stung...bad. And yet, that familiar tingle in his loins was ever present.

"What I don't get," the slightly younger man wondered, "is why I'm the bad guy here. It's like you're the victim. If you remember, you set that whole thing up. Without my knowledge. You and Lauren used me as a pawn in your stupid sex games. I'm the one that was played here."

"Yeah, about that. You're right. It was fucked up. I'm sorry."

Zane nodded seriously and hoisted his beer mug. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Look, dude, I only grabbed the carrot you guys dangled in front of me. Can you blame me? I mean, Lauren is hot as fuck."

"No."

"So, why'd you do it?"

Corey looked down at his glass. "I don't know."

"There's that bullshit again. C'mon man, it's ME dude! We've always been straight with each other. Why stop now?"

"I...I can't."

The pair sat in silence until Zane decided to press on.

"It's because I know what cranks your shaft these days, isn't it?"

That put a small grin on Corey's face. Zane, always with the motorcycle references.

"You think that's like some big deal dude? Some of the guys I ride with have been sharing their ol' ladies for years."

"It's...it's not quite the same. It's not about swinging."

Zane forced his face back to a solemn expression to reassure his friend he was taking this conversation seriously. "Yeah, man, I know. Lauren explained it. All of it. And you'd be proud of me, I even I've read up on it and I don't read anything unless it's about transmissions or tits. It's a different bag for sure, not for everyone. But it's not like you're into fucking dead people or animals. I mean, really, who gives two shits if you like to watch? You embarrassed by it or somethin'?"

Corey shrugged. "Lots of haters out there."

Picardo took a drink and wiped the foam from his mouth. "I haven't outed you, dude. And I don't judge." The big man squared his shoulders. "Look, I'm not good at this emotional stuff, so I'm only gonna say this once. Did I enjoy being with Lauren? Yeah, who wouldn't? Was I surprised when she told me about y'all? Yeah, not gonna lie. Was I pissed 'cause you played me? Yep, straight up. Do I want this to end our friendship? Hell, no. I want my fishing bud back. I want to hit the triple-A rink again and see some blood."

The two men stared at each other across the small table. Finally, Corey cracked a half-smile.

Zane matched the grin and watched the cute butt of a waitress waddle as she walked by. "Well. That's all I got to say. Don't be lookin' for any of that kumbaya shit."

Corey thought for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow. "You liked being with Lauren?"

It was the biker's turn to carefully think. Fucking Lauren was like going to heaven. Nasty, raw, and just plain dirty. But now was not the time to show his very real enthusiasm about his best friend's wife.

"Well, we all go way back, right? She's been your woman and my friend for what? Thirty years now? She's great, so...yeah."

"But you enjoyed being with her?"

Zane's gaze settled on his older pal, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, I already said that. Why?"

"She came on to you, looking good in those leathers. I bet you watched her ass all night, didn't you?"

"Uh, well..." The biker wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

"...blew you in the john."

He and Corey had traded notes on chicks before, but this wasn't just any girl, this was Lauren they were talking about.

"Dude..."

"Where did you finish?"

The mechanic tilted his head incredulously.

"Are you sure you want to...?"

"Where? In her mouth?"

"Geez man,...c'mon. I guess. Thereabouts. I really don't remember. We were totally baked."

Actually, that was only half the truth. There was no way Zane would ever forget that blowjob; he'd had even jerked off a time or two to the memory.

Corey squeezed his eyes shut, enjoying the pressure of his cock throbbing against his jeans.

"Then you took her to your motel room."

Picardo skewered him with a piercing look. "What's up with the twenty questions, bro? You already know what happened."

"I want to hear it from you."

The biker clasped his hands around the back of his head and look around at other oblivious customers in disbelief. Whatever his friend had, he had it bad, and he was starting to see that side right then. Okay, fuck it, I'll play along.

"So yeah man, we went to the room."

"What did you do there?"

"Talked."

"What else?"

Zane leaned in and sneered at his friend. "This is weird, man."

"What else?"

"We made out."

One of Corey's hands began to shake as it tried to grasp the beer mug and take a drink. The other's fingers drummed on the table nervously. "And?" he asked breathlessly.

"Like, look, you got to understand, bro. She laid it all out there in front of me. I mean, Lauren was always the school-marm type, right? Sexy, but in a sexy librarian kind of way. That's all we've ever known. So when she stripped off those pants, I had no choice. I got my face all up in that."

Corey closed his eyes and moaned. "You ate her out." It was a statement, not a question.

Zane looked around the bar again, thankful the music was so loud. "Uh, yeah."

"Did you like how she tasted?"

Picardo stared intently at his buddy. He couldn't believe they had gone down this road, but here they were. And it was actually a little hot talking about it. "You already know the answer to that."

"Then what?"

"We, uh..."

Corey opened his eyes. "You what?" His lower lip and cock were both quivering.

"C'mon, man, you damn well know what happened."

"I want to hear it from you?"

"Corey, don't, I mean, really..."

"SAY IT!"

"Dude..."

Corey rose to his feet, fire in his eyes. "SAY IT MOTHERFUCKER!"

Zane leapt up as well and banged his fists on the table, sending one of the mugs flying off the table as the music in the juke box abruptly ended.

"I FUCKED YOUR OL' LADY, OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR? I FUCKED THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN WIFE!"

The ten seconds of dead air between when that song ended, and the Rock-Ola queued up the next one was the longest moment of silence in pub history as the other patrons stopped to gawk at the two men staring each other down. Many of them snickered, most expected a fight.

As the soulful twangs of the next country ballad began, Zane followed his friend's gaze which had turned to where Lauren's girlfriend Gail was sitting with another couple, mouth agape even as the tavern got back to normal. Acting quickly, the roughneck grabbed Corey by the collar pushed his friend towards the door.

"Let's get the fuck outta here."

+++++

After spending a rare Saturday afternoon of leisurely shopping by herself, Lauren curled up with a pizza and romantic movie, then laid in her bed staring at the ceiling. Feeling a bit melancholy, she retrieved her tablet and the Chairman, then called Corey using the camcorder he'd left behind. Taking a half-smoked joint and ashtray from the nightstand, she lay in her teddy with head propped against headboard and took an occasional hit as the two talked. It seemed she was getting high a lot lately, but Corey decided against mentioning it. E

Eventually she got around to her brief tryst in the gym's sauna, relating the hook up in such detail that it go them both hot very quickly, resulting with the massive vibrator stuck up her pussy and he with a new homemade toy that involved a velvet line toilet paper roll. Lauren bit her lip as he slipped tube over his well-lubed, small-girthed dick and masturbated. She laughed hysterically when he came, the head sticking out one end pulsating purple as it shot several listless white ropes onto his belly. "What a waste!"

After cleaning up, the couple laid naked on their respective beds a thousand miles apart, discussing her upcoming trip for the reunion and to help pack. During a natural break in the conversation, Lauren brought up her date the next day.

"You remember Alex, right?"

Corey looked a bit stunned but kept it together. "A date?"

"Yes, silly, a date. You said it would be a good idea."

"I said I wouldn't mind while I was stuck up here."

"Same difference."

"You said you were just going to think about it."

"I said it would be more fun than going to a museum," Lauren said decidedly. "And I have thought about it and I'm going out with Alex."

Corey swallowed. "What do you know about him?"

"He's handsome, rich, and has a big boat. What's more to know?"

Normally, hearing his wife talk about another man this way would invoke the mixture of emotions that he so yearned to feel. This time, for some reason, it was just pure jealousy.

"I see," came the despondent response.

Lauren frowned. "What's wrong? I'd thought you'd be happy."

"I...I am."

"Hey, cheer up. I'll send you pictures and tell you all about the day. It'll be fun!"

"Yeah."

Awkward silence found them staring at each other through the screens. She could see lines of anxiety on this face.

"Do you not want me to go?"

Corey shook his head. "No...go."

Lauren scooted closer to the camera with a worried look on her face, naked breasts jiggling softly.

"Corey, babe," she purred lovingly, "You have my heart always."

Several moments went by before she looked back at the tablet and realized the call had been intentionally disconnected.

He hadn't heard her one word of her declaration of love.

+++++

Sunday, January 14.

"Ave Maria, Gratia plena, Maria, gratia plena..."

Lauren snapped one eye open in the pitch-black room as the soft choir music played.

What the fuck?

The clock radio on the nightstand blinked a blue six a.m. as she swung her feet off the mattress and onto the floor.

Jesus, the sun's not even up yet. And what's with the religious music?

Then she remembered. It's Sunday. Time to sail.

Gradually, the heaviness in her eyes lifted and she managed to stand, snagging the Chairman off the bed to give him a good cleaning.

A quick shower chased any remnants of sleep away, waking her up enough to apply a bit of makeup and select her outfit for the day: a cute blue and white striped yeoman's three-quarters length top (picked up on sale yesterday!), white capris, and tan boat shoes. Lauren tossed the golden bikini she had worn on Myles' day cruise in a weekender bag and donned a pair of oversized sunglasses, nodding to herself in the mirror as she headed to the lobby.