Ascending Lauren Ch. 20

"Such a cuck."

Lauren ground her hips into his, willing that pink worm as deep as it would go. Sadly, it wasn't all that far.

"You can't fuck me without thinking about it, can you, bitch?"

Corey groaned with pleasure, having never been called that before. She knew he was desperately trying to maintain an erection and needed help.

Poor bastard.

Suddenly, something bumped the truck. Startled, the two looked out the passenger window as a drunk regular of Dank's pinballed off the pickup and the car next to it, anxiously pressing a fob while listening for his car. All three were surprised when the guy stopped and locked eyes with the couple through the foggy window.  He recognized the woman on the man's lap as the one who'd just been dancing.

"Sorry," the stranger mumbled abashedly and began to move away. When he did, the door opened.

"Wait."

Turning, he saw the amateur stripper beckoning to him with her hand. Looking around the lot to make sure the gesture was meant for him, he returned with cautious curiosity, moving to the opening between the cab and the door.

Without a word, Lauren asked Corey to unzip her dress.

"What?"

"Do it."

With a semi-flaccid dick still inside her sopping cunt, he obeyed, albeit hesitantly, grasping the pull near her neck and lowering it halfway down until the back strap and hook and eye of the lacy bra were visible. Eyes locked with the surprised voyeur, she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to her elbows. Extracting her arms from the material, Lauren reached out and touched the man's belt buckle.

"Now the bra."

This time, there was no hesitation. Corey undid the clasp and removed the garment, tossing it onto the driver's seat. The chilly February air caused those half-inch-long nubs to become rigid once again.

"What's your name?" Lauren asked.

The flabbergasted onlooker looked at her hand on his belt.

"Mark."

Leaning back against Corey's chest, one hand behind his head, the dark-haired vixen smiled coyly. "Do you like my tits, Mark?"

"Very much so."

She could feel her husband shift beneath, his dick growing longer and firmer inside.

"Touch them then, Mark. Touch my breasts."

The stranger pulled back the sleeves of his camouflage hunting jacket and looked at Corey for approval, who simply nodded. Moving closer to the seat, feet firmly planted in the gravel parking lot, Mark groped and squeezed her small bosom, rubbing a thumb over those plumb nipples.

Lauren gasped and closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of the enticed peeping tom. After a few moments of exquisite fondling, her free hand began fumbling with his belt. Unable to loosen it from that angle, Mark gladly assisted. This helped immensely, allowing her to unbutton his jeans. With a lick of ruby red lips, she slid the zipper down and fished out an already hard cock through the fly of his briefs. Through all this debauchery, Corey had been steadily expanding in her burning pussy. Her ploy had worked.

"Fuck me."

"Jesus, babe, are you sure you..."?

"Shut up and FUCK ME!" Lauren begged, grinding her hips into his.

And so...he did, slowly at first, not wanting to cum too soon, but picking up the pace as her juices flooded his lap. Mark wasn't for want either, with her hand pulling his rather average size cock closer until he had to hold the truck's A-frame with one arm and the door with the other for stability. Corey looked over her bare shoulder as his wife jacked off the stranger who had been lucky enough to lose his car at the right time.

"YES, YES, YES," Lauren began to sing. Having been on the edge since her performance, it didn't take her long to cum, her cries of ecstasy rising and floating over the parking lot.

"Fuck me," she gasped for air. "Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME COREEEEE!"

Her frequent shrieks of passion came fast and furious. A nervous Mark glanced around quickly to ensure their little tailgate party was staying private. Others were walking to and from the club, but none were paying much attention. With one hand manhandling the woman's tits while hers cranked his knob for all she was worth, he could feel the warmth begin to rise from his balls. Precum dripped in elongating, shape-shifting strands from the head, plummeting to the kickplate below as gravity took hold. The sight of her tiny breasts jiggling as she bounced on the guy's lap was about to make him blow.

Corey was close as well, beaming from the fact that his wife had actually cum on his cock. He pushed his old hips as fast as they could go, quite literally lunging off the vinyl truck seats, up and into her gushing cunt. All the while the man just outside the partially opened door thrust his own dick into Lauren's hand. She, in turn, grabbed the shaft and bore down, the intention unmistakable.

"Yeah, baby," he barked in a raspy, smoker's voice, "stroke my shit, you fucking whore."

Pumping it faster, she wagged her tongue at him and then opened her mouth, presenting the perfect target. "Cum for me, Mark."

That did it. Although Lauren's gaping jaws were an impossible three feet away, no man in the world could resist that call to action.

"OH, FUCK YEAH! Here it comes! Take it, take it slut!"

The first blast was the largest and longest, missing by a large margin, low and outside. This flew wildly onto the glove box in front of them, landing with a splat, then slowly dripping down the latch handle. The second missed too, striping the front of her beautiful mauve dress. The third was bigger than the last and nearly hit the mark, most of it striking her cheek and chin.

Behind her, she heard Corey utter nonsensically, then groaned loudly. The spectacle of the stranger spraying cum around the cab of his pickup, then onto Lauren's face, was too much. With one final thrust upward into his wife's dirty slit, he came, roaring while gripping the headrest.

"GODDAMN YOU LAUREN!"

Then it happened. As that night's lucky winner and her husband looked on, Lauren came again on Corey's cock. It started with fiery eyes raised to the cab's roof, mouth moving silently as if she was trying to speak but nothing coming out. With her lissome body quaking, her right hand groped for something to hold onto, eventually landing on Mark's arm. When it did, she squeezed hard, finally letting loose the pent-up scream that pealed across the entire lot. At the same time, her pussy clamped down on Corey's spent shaft as she swamped his trousers and the seat below with a torrent of fluids.

Breathing heavily, Lauren turned to Corey and pulled his face to hers. Without thinking, he kissed her neck, then chin, the intensity of the last ten minutes causing him to ignore the salty, sticky glaze on her chiseled chin. Lips meeting, their tongues intertwined, a faint acidic scent stinging his nostrils as he realized for the first time he was tasting the remnants of another man's semen. Under any other circumstances, this would have been revolting. But there, in that parking lot, under that random happenstance, with his own cum dripping out of her unchaste hole, the eroticism of that moment could not be underestimated.

That new tattoo had certainly defined her emerging identity.

Easy indeed.

+++++

February 8th. Fourteen days to go.

Fortunately, the Iowan weather warmed into the fifties later in the week, making daytime temps perfect for cleaning out the garage. Corey pulled everything that wasn't bolted to the wall into the driveway while Lauren power-washed the concrete floor. Donning a tapered 'Cyclones' three-quarters length tee and black yoga pants, his wife's simple but sexy attire made it hard for him to keep his mind on task, but there was no other option. While she had until the following Wednesday to get back to Florida and her job, he only had this week, with still a lot to do. And even with taking vacation days, Corey wasn't entirely out of pocket. In fact, that night his boss Haul was holding a mandatory meeting at the construction site. Soon he'd need to knock off and go prepare. Still, now and then, he couldn't resist walking passed Lauren and playfully tapping her ass.

With all the ass grabbing, the noise from the compressor, and classic rock blaring from a radio on a shelf, the couple didn't notice the large man standing in the driveway leaning against Corey's pickup.

"Well, well, well, look who came home."

Somewhat startled, the pair looked up to see Zane Picardo dressed down as always. A pair of tight jeans hugged his bottom, while a denim jacket slung over a thin ribbed wife-beater seemed a bit out of place in the Iowan winter. In the street sat Bessy, his massive Harley-Davidson cruiser.

"You really should get a room."

Corey smacked Lauren on the buttocks one more time and went to shake his best friend's hand. "Good to see you, man. Didn't even hear you ride up."

Zane pushed off the truck and shook his pal's hand vigorously. "Not surprised, with all that metal playing."

"What brings you by?"

"Thought you might need some help," Picardo offered, looking past his friend, "but it looks like someone beat me to the punch."

Turning off the power washer and cradling its wand, Lauren strolled over with a parade wave and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hi. You look good."

"You too."

To say there was a moment of awkwardness would be an understatement. Finally, Corey piped up to break the tension.

"Actually, there are some pieces of furniture in the basement I need to get to the backyard for the junk guys to pick up. They weigh a ton."

"Sure man, anything you need." Zane walked back to his bike, pulling off his riding gloves. Corey saw Lauren's gaze follow the biker's firm and powerful ass, especially when he bent over the saddlebag to stow the gloves.

"Thanks. Let me grab a couple brews," Corey nodded, disappearing through the kitchen door.

Lauren and her one-time lover stood motionless, neither knowing what to say. Especially with her husband just yards away in the other room.

"Guess he didn't mention me coming into town?" she asked, a bit annoyed. The motorcycle mechanic holding her up against the wall in that dingy Bakersfield motel room fingering her to a raucous orgasm flashed in front of her.

"Nope," Zane answered flatly. Stepping forward, he closed the space between them. She wasn't the only one with memories. Her servicing him while on her knees in that bathroom stall at Freddy's was still very vivid.

"I'm glad you two are friends again."

"Me too. But are we?"

Glancing up from the massive pecs beneath the too-small wife-beater, she smiled unsurely. "Of course."

The energy flowing between the two could have powered the entire block, something that did not go unnoticed when Corey walked back into the garage with three cold beers. The look on the pair's faces told him he'd interrupted something poignant. Exactly what, he wasn't sure, but seeing the two hadn't seen each other since they'd slept together, it was a good bet that something was related.

Things between Zane and Corey could have turned sour again right then had the older man not decided to take the high road. The two friends had finally gotten past the Ashley Date and simply wanted to move on.

"To friendship!" the threesome professed, clinking the longnecks together.

+++++

"Babe, we've got this one," Corey huffed and puffed as Zane effortlessly tilted a large dresser onto a dolly. "Can you clear out the wardrobe over there? That thing is mahogany, better to move it empty."

As the two men guided one piece of furniture up a makeshift plywood ramp laid over the five basement steps to the backyard, the biker's bulging muscles were quite evident. While only a few years younger than her husband, Zane was in much better shape and built like a mountain...with a large package. Flush in the face from an imagined heat, Lauren opened the armoire and began rifling through the clothing. She pulled back a blanket just as the guys returned. Beneath it was a black leather strapless corset, liquid leather pants, and a matching motorcycle jacket.

Shit, Lauren bit her bottom lip, Ashley's outfit.

Knowing the awards ceremony was still a sore subject between the two friends, she tried to hide them, but it was too late.

"Whacha got?" Corey asked, freezing when he and Zane immediately recognized the clothes. Lauren stammered, scooping them up. "Uh, nothing, just old stuff."

She didn't get far before Corey stepped in her way. Fingering the corset she'd worn on that fateful day, the fact that he'd pushed her into the biker's arms - and deceived a friend - wore heavy.

"Some night, huh?"

Zane and Lauren looked at each other nervously. The biker cleared his throat.

"Yeah." What else was there to say?

"You enjoyed yourselves that night, yes?"

Neither of them said anything.

Corey nodded a few times, with little expression except for the sneer pulling on his upper lip. "Of course you did," he muttered, wiping the perspiration off his brow with a shop towel.

What followed was one of those pregnant moments everyone knows signals the end of a conversation. All three climbed out of the basement silently and meandered to the driveway where Corey thanked the mechanic for his help. He wasn't keen on leaving those two in the driveway by themselves, but he had to prepare for the meeting that night. Besides, what could happen? They were in plain sight of the office window.

+++++

Chloe Calleigh poured spaghetti noodles from a boiling pot into a colander, plopped huge pasta forks full onto two plates, and smothered it with zesty red sauce. Her roommate Charlie Weber used a cheese grater to spritz a healthy dose of parmesan cheese over both. Friends since the same orphanage, the two often spent the night in, smoking a little weed and binge-watching TV. Although there was more there, an undercurrent of feelings that both were well aware of, neither had acted upon it. Well, Charlie had once, being a red-blooded twenty-two-year-old. But Chloe had immediately, albeit it reluctantly, shut him down. Not because she found him undesirable. Quite the opposite, he was a cute lanky kid with mop hair standing about six-foot and appeared to be packing. What wasn't there to like? That last part made her laugh sometimes too since he'd seen her naked hundreds of times, but not once had she seen him.

No, the reason Chloe kept Charlie at arm's length was exactly because she had feelings. Feelings she'd never let on about, and may never for fear of hurting him. A sex worker did not make for a good girlfriend, in the traditional sense anyway, and most men could not handle a relationship with a woman who danced naked and had sex for a living. Oh, he might be able to handle the novelty of it for a short time, but knowing her friend's psyche, it would only be a matter of time before the peculiarity destroyed their friendship. And Chloe valued his friendship above all else. In fact, he was her only real friend.

"Glamorous Real Estate or General Med tonight?" Charlie asked, stuffing a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

"I don't think the next season of Med dropped yet. How about Zombies of Haunted Hollow?"

The young man cocked an eyebrow, looking surprised. "Wait...you and gore don't mix. You'll spend the entire movie with a blanket up to your eyes. And sometimes over them."

Next to the chipper redhead's plate, her phone began ringing. "Baaaahhhh," she playfully dismissed his jest, looking at the caller ID. "I can handle it."

Jason Aldridge, aka Jax.

Pulling a long strand of crimson hair back behind her ear, Chloe held up a finger, indicating to Charlie it was a call she had to take.

"Hi, Jason, what's shakin'?"

"Hey, love. Good to hear your voice again."

"Yours too."

Charlie sat back in his chair and chewed slowly, pretending to browse on his phone as the caller spoke.

"Listen, remember Georgie Hammond? He cast me as lead in a shoot this Monday but the chick that was supposed to work with me is MIA. Haven't heard from her in weeks. So, like, I told him I'd find a replacement. You interested?"

"Maybe. How much?"

"Two grand...might be able to get him to three since it's last minute. You got a recent test?"

Although he couldn't hear the man on the other line, Charlie knew the name, and a lump formed in his throat. The guy was an arrogant prick and whatever he was pitching he hope Chloe would pass.

"Just last week, yeah."

"Good, you in?"

"Anything I should know? Anal?"

"I haven't seen the script yet, but for that kind of money, you can probably bet on it. You good with that?"

Chloe could see Charlie's eyes close in disdain, his head imperceptibly shaking with disapproval. She tried to catch his eye, but he avoided looking at her.

"I'm good, just need to know how to prepare. Theme?"

"One of his hokey hotwife series is all I know."

"You bull or cuck?"

"What do you think?"

"Right. Who's the cuck then?"

"Don't know, maybe Ambrose Friar."

"Oh, he's perfect as that."

"Yeah. Okay then, I'll text you the address. Shoot starts at three, be there by two. You know how much paperwork there is."

"Gotcha. See ya then."

Seconds later a text chirped with the address.

Charlie finally looked up and sighed, setting down his phone like he hadn't been paying attention. "New gig?"

The dancer looked at him with a hint of endearment. "Any chance you can give me a lift to Coconut Grove on Monday?"

Although not happy she was about to make another film, he'd gotten used to his friend's line of work. It's what she did, and would definitely have to if she wanted to make her goal of retiring by thirty. Ten more years to go.

"Of course," Charlie shrugged off his scowl and smiled. "But it will come at a price. Tonight, we watch Battleground of the Dead."

Chloe giggled. "Deal. I'll do the dishes, you stuff a bowl, and get the show queued up."

+++++

From his home office in front of the house, Corey could see, but not hear, Zane and his wife on the driveway chatting. They both looked a little awkward and unsettled.

"Still friends, right?" Zane asked.

"Yep," Lauren nodded, arms folded across her chest.

"Are you sure?"

The two stared at the concrete, listening to an unusually warm breeze rustling the bushes. Quite unexpectedly, or maybe not, a mischievous thought popped into her head, so scampish that it just had to be that stepping stone to the next level. That was if Zane would play along. With hands clasped behind her back, she swayed back and forth, a devilish, conniving smirk on her face.

"Since Corey has a meeting tonight, how about we go out to dinner and talk about it?"

The biker had seen that body language once before and looked nervously at the front of the house, specifically to where he knew Corey's office was.

"He can't hear us, silly."

"I'm not sure that's such a wise thing," Zane asserted. "Me and him just patched things up."

"It's just dinner."

Picardo wrinkled his nose. Lauren's expression was one of a lioness leading her prey into the den.

"You don't think Corey is going to find that a bit uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. In fact, I'm counting on it."

Now the mechanic was really lost. "Not following."

"I need your help."

Lauren walked Zane to his bike, explaining how she was trying to prepare Corey for the move to Miami, where their lifestyle would surely ramp up. It would be better to gauge his tolerance here than there.

Straddling the Harley, the big man scoffed as he pulled his riding gloves back on. "And...you want me to be part of some grand experiment?"

"I prefer to look at it as more of a rehearsal. But only if you want to."

From inside, Corey was having trouble preparing for his meeting, especially when he saw his wife reach out and put her hand on his friend's shoulder.