Ascending Lauren Ch. 21

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. Anything depicted has no relation to past or current people and events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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February 9th. Thirteen days to go. 

The cold, peaceful early Iowan morning was shattered as fifteen hundred cubic centimeters of pure Harley-Davidson power roared to life. Inside one of the residences on the idyllic street, Corey Miller sat upright in bed, eyes nudged open by the sudden POP-POP-POP of the idling engine.

For a moment, he couldn't quite place where he was. Squinting in the pre-dawn darkness, he began to recognize Caroline's old bedroom, then glanced down at his phone.

Half past six. What the fuck?

Tossing off a pink, frilly comforter, the red eyed father stumbled to the window and looked down at the cul-de-sac. There beneath him, flooded in orange sodium vapor, a shadowy figure on a large bike walked the machine backwards into the street, put it in gear, and zoomed out of sight.

Zane Picardo.

As the fog of sleep slowly dissipated, Corey recalled it was Friday. Of course, must be headed to the garage. While the remnants of the motorcycle rumbling faded in the distance, situational awareness began to pepper his consciousness. 

Zane...Caroline's bedroom...morning.

Corey saw the frown of his reflection looking back at him in the frosty window.

It all made sense now.

Zane and Lauren had been out drinking.

Corey joined them.

All three came back to their house.

The mechanic had spent the night.

...and thoroughly fucked my wife.

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Goddamnit, Picardo! the biker shook his head as freezing winds buffeted him and Bessy. Just couldn't keep your dick under control, could you?

With a crusty mixture of Lauren's juices and semen still stuck to his very cold penis, Zane cursed a profound lack of willpower and good judgment. The first time he'd been with his best friend's wife was arguably not his fault. Okay, sure, maybe a better friend would have dragged her ass out of Freddie's restroom, given her his bed, then slept elsewhere. But he'd been unaware of the Miller's game at the time, she'd thrown himself at him, and he was way lit. I mean, what's a guy to do?

But this time he knew exactly what he'd gotten himself into and did nothing to stop it. That made him as complicit as anyone. And let's face it, he didn't take Lauren out on a date to perpetuate Corey's kink. He'd done it to get another taste of that glorious pussy.

At the end of the day, what did that say about him?

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Furrowed forehead against the windowsill, patchy memories of the previous evening began to reconstruct themselves in bits and pieces. Playing second fiddle to his best friend, being a third wheel to Lauren's date, being outed in a bar. If that hadn't been enough, he had to endure being blue-balled by his own wife in favor of his lifelong buddy. AND the guy purposely spilled his seed over her wedding ring, a symbol of undying love repurposed to one of affront.

Yesteryear's Corey would not have stood for it. One minute after seeing their amorous behavior in the honky-tonk, Zane would have had a fist in his face. Two minutes after that, the biker and his coworkers would have kicked his ass, but at least Corey would have taken his shot.

Now, of course, the dynamic was different. The fetish had grown from fantasy to reality, and while Lauren continued to spiral out of control with her newly encouraged freedom, so did Corey, the kink exercising a grip akin to any drug addiction. He not only wanted to experience the things Lauren was enabling but was also beginning to need it. The thrill was ever elusive now, harder to chase. At first, he was content with Lauren dressing sexier. Then it was flirting, watching her have sex, and recently, a penchant for being humiliated. What was next?

Whatever it was, his wife and best friend seemed willing to take him there.

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Indeed, that addiction was the chief reason he hadn't stopped last night's show on the couch; why he hadn't broken into the master bedroom. Resigned to being locked out, he had slid down the door on his back, drink tray in hand, and listened intently. With cupped ears, he had tried to catch anything that would give him a clue as to what was going on in his room. His bed. His sheets.

There had been giggles, then passionate sighs, followed by more giggles.

'So handsome...'

'So beautiful...'

'You like that?'

'Mmmm, Jesus, you do that so well...'

More sighs, gasps, perfervid moans.

While carrying their drinks upstairs a mere five hours ago, Corey had been so sure he was going to get lucky too. Although he knew his friend was better equipped, with far more stamina, the threesome with Max the Miami bar owner only months ago had gone quite well, so the older man had figured 'why not'?

But that was then, and now the shunned project manager had found himself on the outside listening in, one hand bending an earlobe, the other clasped around a growing erection.

There had been rustling, then more whispering voices that seemed to be just on the other side of the door.

'What do you think he's doing?' Zane had asked.

'Probably jacking off,' Lauren had chuckled.

Corey remembered looking down at the hand stroking his withered penis and drawing a breath.

More giggles, mere inches away through the white panels.

'Enough about him, are you going to fuck me, or what?'

'Get in bed, bitch.'

For the next several minutes, Corey sat on the floor, in the hallway, back against the door and tugging on his cock while listening to the naughty sounds of foreplay. He couldn't always make out what the two were saying, but the sloppy kisses were unmistakable. And there were the occasional snippets.

'Right there...'

'Oh, shit, yes, make love to me...'

Gradually pillow talk gave way to random, impassioned moans. As the creaking bed became brisker, so did their fervent cries, crescendo after crescendo, until yelps of mutual climaxes were clearly heard through the paneled wood. Then...nothing.

Sliding up the door to his feet, cock dangling from rumpled trousers, Corey had left the tray of drinks outside the master chambers and staggered across the hallway into Caroline's old bedroom. A blast from the past, the couple had kept it the same as when their daughter moved out so she could relive memories when visiting.

But Corey was not into waxing nostalgic, especially right then. Hurrying passed framed photos and momentos on the way to her bathroom, he had barely flipped up the floral lace toilet seat cover when he came, one hand on his dick, the other making a fist which he bit to suppress the sound of his orgasm. Below, small jets of ejaculate shot into the porcelain bowl below, clotting in the water, then dispersing.

Exhausted, the besieged graying wittol had slowly made his way toward Caroline's decidedly froufrou bed, shedding clothing along the way, not caring where they landed. Climbing in, wearing just his briefs, Corey's evening concluded when he pulled the frilly blankets over his head and fell into a fitful sleep.

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Lauren's night, of course, had finished quite differently. Both her and Zane were well oiled before Corey ever arrived at the bar, and this only served to fuel their behavior. She knew she had pushed her husband at Shady's with the bait and switch. 'Dinner with a friend' had become 'Drinks with a date', but hoped her conduct would supply the nurturing he needed. True, outing him had not been planned, yet in the moment, it seemed like a devilishly roguish way to pull his levers. And from the looks of things, it had worked.

Nor had she planned on locking him out of the bedroom, just after asking him to bring them drinks. But she could tell Zane had been a little weirded out by them having sex in front of Corey on the couch. Besides, Corey had mentioned several times how hot it was listening to her fuck. Of course, there was no way of really knowing how that affected him until morning, she told herself while brushing Zane's cum out of her mouth. The sun would come up soon enough.

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As the big bike faded into the dawn, Corey turned from the window and looked across his daughter's bedroom. All along the dresser were various pictures of the family. He and the girls on fishing trips; Cee and her mom on softball and soccer outings; Lauren exuding that perfect PTA mother and wife persona. The one that used to exist BC, or 'before cuck' as she had taken to calling it. As sick as it sounded, these are the photos he masturbated to while sounds of his wife being pummeled for the countless time echoed across the way. Even he couldn't deny crossing the line when cumming on a framed photo of Lauren and Caroline hugging each other. How depraved it must have looked, his aging body kneeling on his daughter's mattress, milking hot jizz out of his withered cock onto their faces. Still, the climax experienced was simply beyond words.

Making a mental note to wash the soiled purple sheets, Corey stepped across the hallway and put his ear to the door of the master bedroom, listening carefully. Hearing nothing, he tried the knob, which turned easily, unlike the night before. With little effort, it swung open to the rosy first fingers of a rising sun falling on the king bed. His bed. Their marital bed. The bed where his buddy had just subjected Corey's wife to untold debauchery. And somewhere beneath the covers was Lauren, snoring quietly as she slept off a night of drinking and cocksucking.

Stealthily creeping closer until standing at the headboard, he peered down at the petite lump, the blanket gently rising and falling with each breath. Only a nose was visible, poking through that dark mane of hair, which appeared dirty and matted. The smell of sweat and semen hung in the air, removing any doubt of the fornication that had occurred. A quick flick of the sheets uncovered Lauren's body, nude except for a pair of woolly socks undoubtedly donned sometime during the night to keep her feet warm.

Corey drank in the lithe body, now coated with Zane's dried cum. Jesus Christ. Not one surface had been spared. Her face, tits, and pussy had all taken a load. Had to have been a cup or more. For a split second, he considered peeing on her to wash away the sticky glaze but decided against it. Open house was next weekend, after all.

Instead, he removed his tighty-whiteys and kicked them off, taking his geriatric dick into one hand and fingering hairy, pokey nipples with the other.

"Fucking slut," Corey murmured as he stroked. "Goddamn whore."

Faster he fiddled, hoping to eke out one more nut to completely deplete his aging balls. He imagined Zane on top and behind her, spearing that shaved pussy relentlessly until they both came, collapsing in the very spot where Corey laid his head most nights. Indeed, in the ever-brightening room, the natural light highlighted several dull patches on the sheets where the fibers had been sullied.

Fap, fap, fap. 

Several minutes passed as the patriarch of the Miller family stood over his wife, jerking off, eyes closed with all sorts of imaginings going through his head. He was so lost in those mental images and mutterings that he didn't notice Lauren beginning to stir, awakened by warm covers replaced by cool ambient air. When Corey opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see her sitting upright against the headboard, legs crossed, yawning.

"Well, good morning."

Caught off guard, he stopped in mid-stroke, frozen by her voice.

"I...I...I..." he stammered, caught with his fingers in the proverbial cookie jar.

Lauren looked at him with pity and mirth. She could see both arousal and embarrassment in his eyes.

"Don't stop because of me. Do you like what you see? His cum all over Moi?"

Bending her knees, she parted her legs with Hollywood flair and framed her flaking pussy with both hands. With a smirk, the sexy minx pulled open her butterfly, exposing its soft, pink bellies.

"Mmmm, Twisty, that's your best friend's spunk dripping out of my well fucked cunt. He did me soooo good, babe. All...night...long. Pity you can't do that anymore."

Corey blinked.

"Can you?"

Lowering his head, he shook it in shame.

"Here," Lauren patted the mattress in front of her. "Come masturbate for me."

With some embarrassment at being caught, he climbed onto the bed, wobbling.

Further spreading her legs, she placed two fingers each into her glistening hole. Peering at him from behind longs, straight black bangs, Lauren implored him to continue.

"Go on, then, baby. Jack it."

Hesitantly, Cory began to slide his antiquated dick once again through thumb and forefinger, tightening the grip as it passed through a sweaty palm. Lauren smiled at the once he-man construction worker kneeling on the mattress trying to keep his balance, stroking with purpose, his gray-haired weak chest jiggling. Not far below, a semi-hard manhood struggled to regain its glory while old balls battled gravity.

"Does your cock feel good?"

Corey nodded, pursing his lips.

Her middle and ring fingers pulled her labia further apart.  "It would feel better in here though, wouldn't it?"

The golden rays outside were brighter now, streaming in the two windows on either side of the headboard, illuminating the couple's degeneracy and making Lauren seem she was heaven sent. To the sixty-one-year-old, she was.

"Yes."

"Look closely, Twisty. That's where your best friend was just minutes ago. Left yet another deposit before leaving."

He did, and just below the new tattoo of a small red fox with its fluffy tail wrapped around most of its body, was a small amount of dried cum. It appeared to have ran and stuck to her taint.
Fap, fap, fap. 

"But you knew that, didn't you. Did you hear us last night? I was extra loud, just for you."

Corey nodded again. Of course, he'd heard, how could he not? Fuck me like your bitch came to mind.

"He made me cum. Over and over and over," Lauren mouthed softly, looking mercifully at her husband's much smaller dick. "Well, at least someone can." Her husband's scruffy early morning jowls formed a wrinkled O-face.

"Shit..."

Ooh, he liked that. Giggling, she slid further down the headboard, splaying her knees ever wider, giving him a good view of her pink meat.

"Wanna know a secret?" she asked singingly. "Zane told me he'd lusted after me for all these years. He spent three decades looking over your shoulder, wondering how I was in bed. Wondering if I sucked your cock at night. Wondering if I swallowed, and how it would be to fuck my little asshole."

Unsteady now, Corey shifted weight from knee to knee to relieve the arthritic pain that was beginning to set in. "I can't believe I never noticed." There had been signs of course, as recently as the mechanic's admission at Thanksgiving. Who wouldn't tap that if given a chance?

Lauren stuck out her tongue with plenty of mockery. "Wanna know what's hotter?"

Corey grimaced, barely able to speak as she pulled apart her anus. The sight of her gaping brown asshole just below that beautiful, shaved pussy nearly made him cum.

"He's not wondering anymore."

With much delight and sense of satisfaction, Lauren watched as her husband retched, then trembled uncontrollably, like with fever. Short unintelligible words came from his mouth, stuttering, like he was incapable of finishing a sentence.

"You want to fuck your whore wife, don't you babe?

His face reminded her of one of those zombie movies, where the afflicted's eyes rolled back in their heads and foam formed at the corners of their mouth.

Corey looked hopeful and took two-knee steps towards her.

"Then you'll have to do it in your mind," Lauren cooed, snapping her legs shut. "Rules, remember?"

Corey groaned loudly. "No, c'mon."

"Don't worry, I'll help you. Close your eyes and feel that little dick slip in my freshly fucked cunt."

"I don't see why I can't..."

"DO IT!"

Clearly confused and agitated, but also extremely aroused, Corey yielded, closing his eyes.

"Go now. Go where so many of your friends have gone."

"They have?" he gasped.

"Not all of them, silly. Just the ones who laugh behind your back."

"No..."

"Oh yes. They know the cuck you really are. Most have taken their shot, too Twisty." That was a lie, but he had no way of knowing and she knew it would push his buttons.

"Nuhgggggggnn-ahh."

"Remember what it's like to take be in my pussy, baby? To feel it close around your cock, all warm and cozy?"

"Mmmm."

"Feel it slip deeper, drawing you in?"

"Yesssss."

"That's it, pretend your callous hand is my nasty cunt. Think of where its been."

For second time in the last few hours, Corey found himself kneeling on a bed, jacking off. Only this time it wasn't to a picture of his wife and daughter. Lauren fingered herself while watching his fat, anile body squiggling like jelly while sliding his erection through both hands, pretending it was the pussy that was right in front of him, rather than pouncing on her and taking it like a man. Instead, he continued to masturbate, eyes closed, face contorted into a most perverted O-face.

"Feel my arms around you, scratching your back as you pound me."

One hand moved to his sensitive nipples while the other kept stroking.

"Hmmm. What's in there, sweetie? So hot and gooey and slick?"

The O-face became more defined. Corey's torso began teetering, his sagging pecs jiggling.

"Ohhhhh, is that Zane's spunk? Is it coating your dick, Twisty? Is that your best friend's cum your cock is swimming in?"

"OH GOD LAUREN!"

It was amusing in a sadistic sort of way to see the poor man thrusting his hips into the air with nothing to fuck but his hand.

Fap, fap, fap.

"Looks like you were a day late and a dollar short, cucky."

"FUUUUCCCKKKK!"

"That's it, faster, stroke it faster. Dump your load on me."

Corey could feel his release building and opened his eyes. "Please let me make love to you."

"I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"What? Why?"

Lauren sucked her lower lip into her mouth. "To tell the truth, after your buddy Zane, I'm not sure I'd even feel it."

"OH YOU FILTHY FUCKING SLUT!"

With a caterwaul that resembled the death of animal deep in a forest, Corey came hard, his scorned penis heaving and erupting with the last vestiges of semen that his tired testes could spawn. Grunting repeatedly, the small amount that did spurt onto the sheets pooled in front of him. Doubling over, his pudgy belly protruding well beyond a thick waist, he eventually fell to his elbows, wheezing.

"Nice finish," Lauren offered, gathering him in her arms after he collapsed beside her. "Better than a sock, huh?"

Corey just sighed, holding her tight, throwing a leg over hers as if he was trying to climb inside her very soul. "Not as good as the real thing, though."