Ascending Lauren

[Breakerhymen]

Feel like i know her……if only in the biblical sense

[SimpleEnigma]

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With the Cyclones knocked out of the tournament, there’s only one thing to do.
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Sunday, April 15th
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Corey Miller groaned and rolled over in bed, trying to ignore the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. He opened his eyes and reached for the device, squinting at the screen as he read the text from Lauren.

"Having brunch, be home later."

This was followed by a selfie of her and Alex Cartwright sitting on the stern of the Amarillo Sky, drinking mimosas at a fiberglass table with eggs and toast in front of them. Lauren wore no makeup and had drawn her long black hair into a ponytail. No doubt the photo was taken shortly after waking up. Shirtless, the big man leaned into her with a tongue-in-cheek grin as he pointed to the burnt orange t-shirt Lauren was wearing, clearly emphasizing the logo to the viewer. That was the most disturbing part of the whole photo.

A Longhorns tee.   

It was a subtle, almost sophomoric attempt by the Texan to humiliate the lifelong Cyclones fan. I fucked your wife and turned her loyalty too. Corey sighed and set the phone down. And to think he was one of the nicer ones. 

Looking over at the emptiness that was Lauren's side of the bed, he realized just how woebegone he was, countered only by the reluctant arousal that had consumed him all night. A pair of stiff socks and a few crusty tissues beside him on the sheets bore witness to that. Several times he had awoken in the middle of the night only to be reminded by her absence that she was spending the night with Alex on his boat. Each time, as he lay there staring at the pebbled ceiling, his mind would wander to the yacht's bedroom. Lauren on top, riding the big cowboy; then on all fours. And each time, the graying wittol could not help but unload a great deal of semen into whatever was handy.  

But now the morning had come, and falling back to sleep was no use. The image of Lauren and Alex with champagne flutes while enjoying their breakfast was seared into his brain. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he looked at himself in the mirror and winced. There was no one else to blame for the incredible amount of jealousy he felt at that moment. He had encouraged Lauren to date and even admitted that the thought of losing her turned him on. It was one of the darker perversions of the fetish, and few would ever be able to understand the bittersweet stew it manifested. 

Standing under the showerhead, Corey tried to let the hot water wash away his anxiety. Where their relationship was headed was anyone's guess. Even recently, Lauren had assured him that she was going nowhere and that they were going to grow old together no matter what happened. And yet they had already broken the boundaries that most cuckold couples set to keep the marriage intact--no feelings, no overnights. What was next?

Lauren's transformation was nothing short of remarkable. In just ten months, she had gone from a reserved, devoted mother of two to a shameless, insatiable slut. She had become a woman who craved cock, who reveled in the feeling of a man's hard shaft pounding her pussy, filling her up with his hot, sticky cum.

Her body had changed, too. She had lost weight, gained muscle, and her tits seemed perkier than ever. Her skin was glowing, her hair was shinier, and her eyes sparkled with a newfound lust for life. She was a woman who was proud of her body, who loved to show it off, who loved to tease and tantalize.

She had fucked his best friend, her old boyfriend, his buddies, a bar owner, neighbors, Latino punks, women, and who knows who else? It was like she was forty-eight going on twenty-five, with no intention of slowing down. She was a woman who was driven by her pussy, not afraid to try new things, who had discovered her love of dominating and being dominated. Someone who loved to be used, being a whore to men who just wanted a plaything. And there was no indication the mature wife was going to slow down.

And why should she stop? At sixty-one, he couldn't satisfy her anymore, especially with her husband's obsession with his peculiar fetish taking over. It was a fetish that consumed. Even as he stood under the scalding hot water, he could feel the shiver of arousal coursing through him. The image of Alex and Lauren's selfie, with their wide smiles, graced by the morning sun, invaded his thoughts. He couldn't help but imagine Lauren's lips, those luscious, full lips, wrapped around his cock, contributing to the grin he now wore.
 
Corey leaned against the glass door, the water cascading down around his aging body. His cock twitched and began to harden, defiant against the torrent. The weight of his pudgy man-boobs pressed against his chest as he grabbed them, rolling his nipples between his chubby fingers. He closed his eyes and let out a low groan, feeling the familiar sensation of his dick growing harder by the second.

 The shower stream pelted his round belly, sending rivulets of water trickling down to his groin. His cock emerged from beneath the prominent roll of blubber that marred his middle, the head peeking out of the foreskin. Corey couldn't help but stare at it, the feeling of inadequacy fanning his arousal. 

"He fucked her," he muttered loudly, nodding as if to affirm the thought. "Fucked her good."

Fingers tracing circles around his fatty areolae, Corey squeezed his eyes together as the images came fast.

In the bowels of the yacht, Alex plowed her every which way. Her screaming his name and cursing her husband for having such a limp dick.

Corey grimaced as he raised his face to the showerhead, gurgling and spitting as the water choked him. 

Alex on top, kissing, touching. His hips thrusting forward, filling her completely as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside.  

Unable to resist anymore, a wet hand traveled down passed Corey's flabby belly and to his soapy dick. 

Her hands roaming over his muscular back, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as they moved together until he sprayed his seed deep in her womb.

Corey's palm glistened with a sudsy lather, gripping his unimpressive cock tightly. Stroking quickly now, his fingers pulled hard at the swollen shaft skin.

"OH GOD!" Corey yelled, his cries echoing in the marble-covered bathroom. 

Faster and faster his hand went, the friction between his palm and his cock becoming unbearable. And then, with an explosive surge of pure emotion, the older man's body convulsed. Hot spurts of cum shot from his glans, mixing with the water and soap, creating a sudsy mixture that hit the textured shower stall floor.

Collapsing against the side wall, chest heaving, Corey regained his composure, trying to not feel the shame that would come over most men reduced to jacking off over their wife's infidelity. He studied the last of his semen slipping lazily through the silver plate covering the drain between his feet. Was his marriage to meet the same fate? 

+++++

Lauren was standing in the galley washing dishes, brushing loose strands of hair from her forehead, when Alex came up behind her and pressed his bare chest into her back. 

"Do you think he noticed?" he asked, his hands gently groping her small breasts through the oversized Longhorns tee that was clearly his.

A mischievous smirk spread across Lauren's face. "Oh, he noticed." 

She was sure of that. Her wearing a rival team's logo and the suggestion that she was 'switching teams' was a double entendre that her brilliant project manager of a husband would not miss. 

Oh, the dagger he must have felt! Bet his cock went rock hard.

Slowly, Alex's hands found their way beneath the shirt's thin fabric, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path upwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. As his hands reached the swell of her breasts, he paused, savoring the moment, while his cock strained against the confines of his briefs, the tent poking the buttocks of her panties, leaving a wet spot.

"I just don't understand why he allows this. You're one fine lady."

"We've been through that," Lauren shuddered as the ex-rancher nibbled her neck. "He's got this thing."

"Yeah, I know. A thing."

He knew what she meant. Swinging and cuckolding were not news to the travel agent. Polyamorous resort events were not something that his particular clientele asked for, but their existence was well known. He just didn't think he'd ever be involved.

"Does that bother you?" she asked, rinsing the suds off a drinking glass.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers graze her hardening nipples. They had fucked no more than an hour ago and the embers continued to glow. Leaning back into him, she let herself be enveloped by his body heat. The gentle flicks of his thumbs over her sensitive nipples sent jolts of electricity straight to her pussy, causing moistness between her thighs. The scent of sex filled the galley, mixing with the aroma of freshly washed dishes.

With one quick move, Alex pulled her hips tight against his crotch, then pressed her back downward. Lauren gasped loudly as he bent her over the sink, moving her panties to one side. With the other hand, he fished his cock through the fly in his shorts and guided it into her sopping, eager hole.  

"I guess that's a no...ohhhhhh!"

Lauren's hands gripped the sides of the soapy sink, her face inches from the long, curved silver neck of the faucet. 

"Do me, baby. Do me hard."

Alex didn't hesitate, immediately beginning to thrust in and out of Lauren with powerful, deep strokes. The sound filled the small galley, accompanied by their raw and primal moans. Soapy water sloshed from the sink as the motion of their bodies rocked the boat. She could feel every inch as it plunged in and out of her, causing the moans to become louder and more urgent.

"Do you like being the other man?"

Grunts from behind assured her he was warming up to the idea.

"Dropping your load in a married cunt for her husband to slosh about in?"

"Fuck yeah."

Despite the size difference between them, Lauren was able to hold herself up, meeting Alex's thrusts with her hips. Her body moved in time with his, the muscles in her legs and back tensing and releasing as she took him in again and again and again.

"Oh god, yes. Just like that, don't stop. Fuck your whore."

Alex's fingers dug into Lauren's hips, leaving small bruises that would surely be noticed by her husband. She welcomed the pain, feeding on it as she chased her release. In the small porthole above the sink, she saw her breasts bouncing and jiggling beneath the Texas Longhorn bull's head and horns as she tried to keep pace. The irony that she was wearing Cartwright's t-shirt from a rival school, was not lost on either of them. Lauren knew the sight of her wearing it would be like a dagger to Corey's heart, sharper even than the large cock buried deep inside her. It fueled the lovers' frantic lovemaking, the thought of cuckolding the older man adding a collective sadistic layer of excitement to each of their impending orgasms.

In that very moment, the immoral act of fucking a married woman ignited an unprecedented surge of exhilaration within Alex. The potential disappointment and rebuke that his deceased parents would undoubtedly rain upon him became nothing but a distant whisper in the face of the howls in front of him and Lauren's soft pink walls, clenching and squeezing, gripping his cock with an insatiable hunger. 

If this woman's depraved husband wanted to share her pussy, then so be it.

With renewed strength, the Texan plowed into the greedy gash, watching his dick disappear between her ass cheeks. 

"Harder," Lauren demanded, arching her back, one hand supporting herself on the sink, the other reaching back to pull Alex's face to her neck. "Fuck my married cunt."

Married cunt. A wicked smirk spread across Alex's face as he embraced the role of a once reluctant bull. He could barely keep from cumming right then. His eyes burned with fire as he pummeled her dripping hole with all his might, each thrust emphasizing his willingness now to exert dominance over her and the man who had all but given her away.

"Your sorry excuse for a husband can't fuck you like this, can he?" he growled, his voice finally taking on the air of arrogance and contempt of a proper extramarital boyfriend.

Lauren's body shook as she witnessed the transformation of the reserved rancher's son from El Paso into a felicitous bull. The implications were... were... were...

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," she cried out. With one final, juddering thrust, the bent brunette came hard, letting out a long, low bay as the orgasm took hold. 

Alex wasn't far behind, and for the fifth time during their date, he emptied his balls into her blistering pussy. Lauren could feel the twitching shaft, pulsing inside her, the hot, sticky warmth filling her up. Shortly afterward, they decoupled, each leaning back against a cabinet, like prize fighters retreating to their own corners of the ring. Huffing, puffing, grinning. 

"Wha...what do you want to do now?" Alex asked, taking a kitchen towel and wiping off his slimy erection.

Lauren glanced down at the traitorous Longhorn t-shirt, now quite wet with dish soap, and snickered.

"More schwag?" he grinned.

"But of course," the slinky coquette giggled as she brought his face to her jiggling chest. 

"Hook 'em, Horns!"

+++++

Corey walked briskly through the bustling streets of Miami, his mind consumed with thoughts of Lauren and their unconventional relationship. With every step, there were conflicting emotions -- envy, jealousy, and a deep sense of vulnerability. The image of Lauren and Alex together on the boat, sipping mimosas and reveling in their affair, mocking him, were seared into his brain. As were the dozens of happy couples he passed, holding hands, laughing without a care. It was the blissful state Lauren and he used to be in all the time, but now the weight of his fetish had become both a source of pleasure and torment, blurring the boundaries of their relationship and leaving him constantly questioning their future. 

Was it worth it?

Stopping at the entrance to one of the downtown area's largest indoor malls, Corey gazed up at the marquee adorned with promotional posters for various retail stores within. Among them, a florist boasted of having the freshest flowers on the Gold Coast. Inspired, Corey stepped inside, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the towering three stories of shops wrapped around elegant glass and silver balconies encircling exquisite artwork and lush greenery.

Entering the fragrant flower shop, he immediately saw a display of tightly bundled blossoms and selected a particularly bright bouquet. His fingers grazed the velvety petals as he envisioned Lauren's smile when he gave them to her. This was no ordinary arrangement; it contained the finest roses, meticulously handpicked, with sprigs of gossamer baby's breath, and green foliage that served as a striking contrast. Beaming, Corey approached the cashier who raised a brow at the ninety-five-dollar price tag.

"We don't sell many of these. Must be for someone special," she commented while carefully wrapping the delicate bundle.  

He nodded enthusiastically. "My wife."

"You must love her very much."

"I do."

Exiting the floral peddler, Corey stopped and smelled the tokens of his love as other shoppers hurried by. These would make Lauren very happy indeed. He looked up and down the long mall corridor at the various offerings. High-end jewelry and overpriced handbags. An electronic billboard advertised designer sneakers. 

The last one caught his eye. Bembe's Kicks. Hmm, he could use another pair of running shoes. Not that he ran much, but they certainly looked cool. And socks. Seemed he was going through a lot of socks lately. Happy to be doing something other than thinking of Lauren on her date, Corey began strolling towards the middle of the shopping mecca, eyes peeled for the shoe store. Things were looking up. Until they weren't. 

Coming to the center of the mall near the food court, he had not yet seen Bembe's. Walking aimlessly to try and find one store would be futile. Fortunately, he spied several people hovering around a backlit map of store locations. Joining them, he tried to interpret the legend along with the color-coded tiers. Why the fuck did they make these so damn hard to understand?

It was then he heard the giggle. A familiar, haunting giggle. Peering around the towering megalithic directory, Corey's eyes landed on a couple sitting at a table near the Sourdough Special food counter. Their back was to him, but there was no mistaking the large, brimmed hat and white dress. 

Lauren and Alex.

"Are you shittin' me?" the older man muttered under his breath.

Sitting at a two-top with a salted pretzel, the jovial couple were laughing and feeding each other bite-sized pieces. Lauren was leaning against her younger friend, one hand caressing the back of his leathered neck, while the other popped strips of the baked dough into the cowboy's mouth. This was quickly followed by kisses to the cheek. They were completely engrossed with each other, like there was no one else in the world.

Using the map as a blind, Corey stole surreptitious peeks as often as he dared. Another bite, another kiss. A couple of times Lauren looked aimlessly over her shoulder in his direction, causing him to flatten against the directory. Wait, why was he hiding? It didn't matter who she was with, Lauren was his wife. HIS wife. There was no reason why he shouldn't walk over there and order his own goddamn pretzel.

But he didn't. Nope, not even close. There he stayed, hidden for fear of being seen, his zelophilia casting its perverse net over him as she hugged and cuddled with the Texan. Suddenly both pushed their chairs back and rose. Lauren came around the table and Alex pulled her into him as they began ambling past the storefronts without any urgency. Fingers interlaced, the couple playfully frolicked and laughed, sometimes even skipping. The irony of seeing his wife on a date like she was twenty again, all the while holding a bouquet meant for her, was excruciating. And... indescribably hot. Just the idea made Corey's cock throb, straining against the fabric of his pants.

The beleaguered husband discreetly followed them to a popular national lingerie boutique where Lauren and Alex, still holding hands, browsed the racks of skimpy outfits. Occasionally, she would pick up a lacy full-figure bra from a rack display and hold it to her small chest, prompting eye rolling and giggles. The ex-rancher seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, even picking out a few baby-dolls for her to try on.

While Lauren disappeared into a dressing room and Alex patiently waited outside, Corey crept to a spot in the store that afforded him a better view. From his vantage point, he couldn't see directly into the stall but knew from the wide smile on the cowboy's face when the louvered door opened that he was getting quite a look. Knowing that she was modeling in next to nothing for her date nearly caused Corey to pass out. His hand involuntarily reached down, his fingers brushing against the bulge in his pants. A sales clerk passing nearby snapped Corey back to reality. He had to be careful. Groping himself in public where children were abound would surely end badly.

After several minutes and several outfits, Lauren proceeded merrily to the counter, arm in arm with Alex. She selected a lacy, red baby-doll from the pile of clothes and handed it to the cashier with a smile. Anticipating their imminent exit, Corey hugged the back of the wall, making his way back to the main hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the big man wrap his arm around Lauren's waist, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck.

The couple continued to wander the mall, oblivious to the voyeur that shadowed them. As they walked, Lauren continued to giggle and leaned into Alex, her body pressed close to his. She was as happy as Corey had ever seen her. Satisfied. Glowing even. Well-fucked. It was a painful realization, one that pierced his heart but also tightened the growing knot in his crotch. He knew he should turn away, leave them to their new relationship energy. But he couldn't bring himself to, couldn't help but watch as they flirted and fawned over each other.

Next was a stop at a chic French purse designer outlet which was filled with brightly colored clutches, totes, and satchels, each one more stylish and sophisticated than the last. The pair chatted animatedly as they went, their hands brushing against each other as they reached for different bags. Despite the heartache he felt and the pangs of jealousy that gripped him, Corey couldn't help but admire the way Alex and Lauren looked together. There was something about them that was undeniably captivating, a chemistry that almost made one want to root for their success. Yet, at the same time, there was something dangerous about their aura, something that was foreboding and portent.

It became even more evident when Alex picked up a kidney-shaped, blue-leather purse and handed it to a salesgirl. The surprised expression on Lauren's face turned to delight as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The kiss that followed was deep. Passionate.

Corey watched from a distance, face shielded by roses bearing the tag "with all my love". His heart ached when he saw the way they looked at each other. Energized, euphoric. Corey could see the outline of her nipples through her dress, hard and erect. He knew that she was turned on, and maybe even a little infatuated.

The shop next door specialized in team apparel for a variety of sports. With his jeans feeling like they were going to burst, the doleful but highly aroused project manager turned and ran as his wife and her lover browsed jersey wear. He couldn't take the pressure any longer. Dashing through the crowded mall, he searched frantically for the nearest public restroom, heart pounding, stomach heaving. Finally, he saw the international signage up ahead. Sprinting towards it, his legs shook with need. As he burst through the men's door, he entered an empty stall and locked the door behind him. With one hand against the metal wall, Corey paused to catch his breath, looking woefully at the bouquet of flowers in the other. In an impulsive moment, mist in his eyes, he threw the arrangement into the toilet. As the beautiful roses and baby's breath floated listlessly on the surface of the murky water, the estranged highly aroused husband lowered his pants, overwhelmed with a sense of self-loathing and disgust. Not only was he repulsed by his voyeurism, but he was deeply ashamed of where it had led him. For hours, he had been stalking Lauren and Alex through the crowded mall, dick painfully hard in his pants. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them; couldn't help but be drawn into their flirtatious banter and playful touches. He alone used to be the one that made her laugh and smile. And now...

Leaning over the toilet bowl, one hand on the tile behind it, he began to stroke his hardness, his mind replaying the last twenty-four hours like some kind of tormenting porn loop. 

The picture of them at dinner.

Having breakfast.

Feeding each other lunch like so much wedding cake.

Fap, fap, fap.

The coyness, the playful frivolity.

Fap, fap, fap.  

The stolen looks of genuine affection.

 "OH LAUREN," Corey cried out as he pumped his cock furiously over the commode, the words echoing off the empty bathroom walls. "OH BABY!"

Her throwing her arms around Alex's neck and kissing him deeply. Like a low-budget movie, his mind's eye zoomed in on his wife's hands, clasped behind her date's neck, her wedding ring, glinting in the bright mall lights like a full moon, taunting and ridiculing. A twisted reminder of love once won and now shared. 

"FUCK!"

With a final, desperate stroke, Corey came hard, his cum erupting and spraying into the cruddy bowl below. It rained over the rapidly dissolving flowers that not too long ago were a symbol of hope, much the way that ring was on their wedding day.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" he yelled, punching the wall repeatedly until his knuckles bled. They made an unhealthy crunch against the dirty tile. 

Pushing back in pain, Corey pulled his pants up, flung open the stall's door, and stumbled to the sink, washing his hemorrhaging digits under lukewarm water. As he was bent over, caring for his damaged hand, he heard heavy, boot-like footsteps enter the restroom and caught a glimpse of a figure wearing a white cowboy hat enter the same stall he'd just jerked off in. That was followed by a now very familiar voice.

"What the tarnation...?"

+++++

Corey sat in front of the television, eyes glued to the baseball game as he nursed a beer. The early afternoon matchup between the Yankees and Twins was proving to be an exciting one. It was only the sound of the apartment door unlatching that pulled his attention away. With some amusement he watched Lauren struggle to get through the doorway with a handful of shopping bags which she plopped on the kitchen island.

"Been shopping?" he asked whimsically.

The tired brunette blew back jet-black bangs from her perspiring brow. "You're quick."

"Cold seltzer in the fridge if you're interested."

"In a minute. Look what Alex bought me!" Lauren gushed. She held up the sleek blue purse that Corey was already well aware of. She said it with all the enthusiasm of a college girl getting pinned. 

"Travel agents make good money, huh?"

Her nose scrunched. "It's not about the money."

"No, I suppose it's not."

"It's about kindness. He's genuinely kind," she professed. "With a hint of naughty."

Corey looked at his feet, the emotions beginning to rise once again. "Naughty?"

Lauren grinned and pulled the red baby doll from one of the bags. "Very naughty." 

"It suits you."

"Yes. Yes, it does." Tossing her head back playfully, she sauntered towards the bedroom, hips swaying seductively. "Stay here, now. No peeking."

He waited until the door closed, then adjusted his thinning, gray hair in the mirror that hung over the sofa. With a quick exhale into his hands, Corey checked for bad breath. There was a good chance he was going to get lucky!

Standing dutifully outside the bedroom, he shifted from one foot to the other anxiously, salivating. All the spank bank images of his wife fucking Alex bounced around in the older man's head. And now it was his turn.

"Come in," Lauren's sing-song voice beckoned through the closed door.

Corey entered and froze. Lauren was on the bed, legs curled beneath her, nude except for an off-gray t-shirt. One with the silhouette of a steer with extended long horns across the chest.

"Well?" Lauren asked seductively, sniffling a bit.

"Enchanting." The sarcasm was obvious. "Is that how it's gonna be? No more Fight, Ames, Fight? No more ringing the Victory Bell?"

"To the victor goes the spoils."

"I'd expect as much from a traitorous whore."

"Traitorous?" Lauren sneered, scooting to the headboard and unfurling her legs. "Who had this to themselves for twenty-seven years and then gave it away?"

"You know why..."

"All I know is that your dick doesn't work unless I'm screwing someone else. So, what the hell am I supposed to do? Now get the fuck over here."

Slowly and unsurely, Corey moved to the bed.

"Take off your clothes."

Demeaned, Corey removed his shirt and shorts as she spread her legs, exposing the pinkness of a freshly shaved labia. It was a delicate shade of pale pink, but slightly red and swollen, evidence of the pounding Alex undoubtedly gave her that morning. Positioning himself between her legs, the older man gently placed his hands on her knees, spreading them wider. He couldn't wait to hold her, to taste her, to  have  her...

The backhand across his face snapped Corey out of his leering.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lauren admonished him, wiggling an index finger in his face.

"Wha...?"

"I'm not fucking you if that's what you're thinking."

Crestfallen, Corey abruptly sat back. "But."

Lauren smiled inwardly. Another chance to turn the screws. 

"Do you deserve this pussy?

"I'm your husband."

"Really? How many men have I slept with since being down here?"

Corey appeared flustered as he tried to recall. "I-I-I dunno. Eight?"

"That you know of," she scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "And how many did you stop me from sleeping with?"

"I-I-I..."

"NONE is the correct answer. What kind of husband would allow that?"

Relishing in her husband's confused gaze, Lauren slowly uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her thighs. With a deliberate motion, she spread her legs wider, offering him an unobstructed view of her glistening treasure. Her pussy, smooth and hairless, was as beautiful as any other. The lips slightly discolored with waves of wrinkles. And the aroma. Holy shit, the aroma!

"But I thought..." Corey sputtered, looking down at his flaccid staff.

"Oh please, the only way you're going to get off right now is with your hand."

A maniacal laugh cut him to the quick. Naked and vulnerable, Corey's dick twitched. He loathed himself for feeling this way, but the pull was too much.

"Would you like to hear about my date?"

The flustered and trembling wittol nodded his head.

"I had tons of fun. Alex is such a gentleman."

Corey said nothing as he stared at his wife's small, braless breasts beneath the Longhorn tee.

"Oh yes. A little reluctant to be seeing a married woman, but he got over it quite nicely."

Lauren's eyes locked onto her husband's as she reached down and used both hands to pull apart her butterfly, showcasing the flesh of her inner pussy. The glistening wetness was evidence that she too was enjoying this moment. A low moan escaped her parted lips, as the cool air caressed her exposed canal.

"Alex is a masterful cunnilinguist, you'll be happy to know." Lauren pointed to the top of her moistening slit. "He licked me right here. Tasted every inch of my sweet, wet pussy. You know, the one YOU can't get it up for anymore."

Despite rather feeble resistance, Corey's erection did harden, the barely six inches quivering in the air over his nascent crotch. Below, wrinkled balls jostled slightly.

"Touch it," Lauren nodded at his geriatric manhood. "Touch that thing you've tried passing off as a cock for thirty years."

Her fingers moved teasingly over her engorged lips, grazing the hood of her clit.

"Stroke it, just like I'm doing to my nasty hole."

Corey's hand trembled as he obediently gripped his shaft. He watched intently as his wife circled her throbbing clit, her own body humming. 

"He stuck his tongue into my cunt, Corey. He made me cum."

Lauren stuck her tongue out and touched the bridge of her nose, eyes never leaving Corey.

"I came on his face, baby. Alex lapped it up like a cat."

Corey's tightened fingers around the thin skin, his strokes listless as he listened to her words.

"Gotta do better than that, bitch. C'mon, fist that dick."
The project manager was visibly shaken as he bore down on his aching member, movements faster, more methodical. He watched as his wife continued to circle her throbbing clit, drops of liquid oozing from the bottom of her intemperate gash. 

Lauren's eyes narrowed with a mischievous glint as she continued to finger herself.

"That's right, keep jerking, Twisty," she encouraged with a wicked grin. "Do you want to hear all the dirty things Alex did to me? You ready for that, you dirty fucking pervert?"

Corey's hand moved faster, his cock throbbing with anticipation. It was this type of symbiosis that the rakish wittol craved. He was eager to hear every explicit detail.

"Y-Y-Yesssss. Tell me everything."

Lauren's lips curled into a devilish smile as she began to recount how Alex had gone down on her, the feel of his tongue snaking its way in, making her cum several times before taking her to the boat's well-appointed berth.

"He pounded me like a goddamn animal," she moaned, her voice lilting with the memory, three fingers now buried in her snatch. "His was a real cock, nothing like your useless pencil dick. Look, see how it stretched my tight cunny? Shit, Corey, I screamed his name like a dirty little whore, begging for more."

In front of him now, Lauren's fingers were buried deep inside her whore pussy, furiously rubbing against her clit with each thrust. Her moans grew louder and more frequent, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. With the other hand, she groped and pinched her breasts, tweaking them roughly, letting out one low moan after another. Corey's strokes grew increasingly frantic as he hung onto every word that spilled from Lauren's lips. The images of her writhing beneath the Texan were more vivid than the night before, more than enough to bring him to the edge several times.

"He took me raw, baby. I could feel every ridge, every vein, every inch. Sooooo much different than yours." 

 "No con...no condom?"

"No why would he? Boyfriends don't wear rubbers."

Those words hung in the air, not unlike clouds above the bed in a meme.

Boyfriend.

Corey's face was a picture of pure pleasure as he beat his meat. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he doubled down. His eyes were closed, cheeks flush.

"B-B-Boyfriend?"

"Mmm, yeah, cucky. So good, I almost forgot you even existed. You're no longer a starter on my field, babe. Hell, you're not even a pathetic bench warmer."

Clenching his jaw so tight his temples throbbed, Corey gritted his teeth, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he fought to maintain control. Nose scrunched up, nostrils flaring, he pulled his lips back in a telltale grimace. 

"FUCK!"

Eyes squeezed shut, his thighs tightened, and his chest heaved. The first rush of hot semen rushed unfettered from his balls. The number of spurts that erupted was impressive, given how many times he'd already jacked off. Thin, sickly-looking ropes of cum shot up, landing on a paunchy belly, some of it hitting his chin. When he finally looked, his chest was covered, some of his jizz pooling in a jello-like navel. Lauren squealed at the expression of shame and humiliation washing over him.

"Fucking cuck," she ridiculed him, clambering across the mattress to sit on his face. Now do what every cuck across the country is doing tonight. Finish me, bitch."  

Lauren lowered herself down onto his face, her pussy hovering just above his lips. She was wet, and copious amounts of juices flowed from her pink hole and down his cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot, and the runny nose was getting worse.

"I'm sure a bit of Alex is in there somewhere. Suck it dry, Twisty."

Corey inhaled the musky, tangy odor from her dripping fluids. It was a scent that wars had been fought over. The wetness glistening on her lips beckoned to him and he began lapping at it like a thirsty dog. Whether he was consuming another man's semen mattered not. Lauren began to moan incessantly.

"Yes, Alex, tongue fuck me, baby."

Corey's body trembled like an earthquake when she called him by his name. His cuck meter soared as the wooden bat of humiliation struck his temple with force, but he stayed in the game, his tongue exploring every inch of the pussy that another man's cock had been inside just hours before. Even as her thighs tightened around his ears, and her vulva created a seal against his mouth, making it difficult to breathe, he continued licking and sucking as if his life depended on it. Second by second, Corey could feel her getting closer, the muscles in her legs quivering against his cheeks. Several deeper dives with the tip of his tongue extended to its fullest and Lauren's body convulsed in bliss, her back arching, and a string of obscenities pouring from her lips. Corey continued to lap at her, riding the orgasmic waves with his face, gagging and gurgling on the torrent of cum that streamed from her flexing slit.

Lauren looked pleased, came down from the quick release, and dismounted her husband's face.

"I hope you appreciate getting a taste of my pussy," she cupped his slimy chin hard, giving it a little slap, before gripping it again. "I guess the Eyes and the Cum of Texas is upon you."

Corey dropped to the mattress with contrition, prompting her to peel off the Longhorn tee and throw it in his face. In seconds, Lauren's attitude changed as she slinked off the bed and headed to the shower. "Don't look so down, baby. I'm fixing dinner tonight. What would you like!"

Wiping the remains of his wife and her lover's seepage from his face with the shirt, the malleable project manager blinked his eyes.

Anything but cheesy cauliflower.

+++++

And that's how the Miller's life seemed to be unfolding: a mix of Lauren's indiscretions and the mundane routines of normal life. They would wake up in the morning, discussing their plans for the day over a cup of coffee, and then share a kiss before parting ways. Their evenings were typically spent in front of the television, except for those occasional nights when a heavily intoxicated Tony would come booty calling. Sometimes Corey could watch, but most times he had to settle for listening from the living room. Truth be told, when Lauren wasn't engaging in sex with others, their lives were as ordinary as could be. Some would even say, monotonous. But what the future held was anything but routine.

==================
Friday, April 27th
==================

"Remember we're going to the art gallery showing with Dale and Amanda tomorrow," Corey announced as he buttoned the cuffs of his shirt sleeves.

When Lauren straightened his tie, he noticed she was wearing the gold Tiffany's locket he'd given her in Iowa. The heart-shaped one that had two halves that swung open, containing tiny smiling photos of each from their wedding, one a side.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your boss. Who is the artist again?"

Corey handed her apartment keys and her new purse. Yes, the one that Alex had bought her a couple of weeks ago. The purse certainly complemented the new navy pantsuit she had ordered online. 

"No idea, Benoit something or other. Fascism?"

Lauren tilted her head to one side, a grin creeping across her face. "Fauvism?"
He snapped his fingers. "That's it."

Her chosen outfit was sexy but professional, this one featuring a finely tailored, form-fitting jacket with large labels and no buttons. And who would want it closed, given the provocative dark blue camisole that was underneath? Just the right movement afforded just a hint of a black lacy bra. Then there were the pants. Made from rayon, they hugged her small, perfectly shaped ass. 

Simply spectacular.

With a quick peck on the cheek, she snatched the keys from his hands and slung the strap over her shoulder.  

"Listen, I got a text from Griffin this morning. He wants to meet me for a drink."

"I didn't know you were going out tonight."

"I wasn't," Lauren fingered through her purse for something, until looking up, puffing bangs from her face. "Until this morning."

Corey's eyes narrowed. The name sounded familiar but couldn't place the face. "Griffin?"

"I met him at a bar before I went to my reunion."

"The guy that called while we were at Bart's Meet House."

"That's him."

Corey shrugged on his suit coat. "What about Alex?"

"We aren't exclusive. Besides, he's in Spain leading a group of tourists."

The irony that she was speaking to her husband while professing she wasn't exclusive to her boyfriend was rich indeed.

Embrace it. Get off on it. Own it.

"So, where are you meeting him?" He tried his best to sound indifferent.

"Club X. Look don't try any of your creeper shenanigans, either. I know how you get. Besides, the guy's cute and all, but at this point it's just drinks, okay?"

Lauren blew him a kiss as she walked briskly to the door of their apartment, her long, shiny black hair swaying three-quarters of the way down her back. She was wearing it much longer these days. Nodding, the fake grin waned. Another Friday night alone, but he supposed he should be thankful that his wife was sleeping next to him most nights.

"Have fun," Corey squeaked, not that she heard him as the door shut behind her. "I love you."

+++++

As Fridays go, the end of the work week wasn't too hectic. Lauren spent most of the day settling into her new office, a spacious room adorned with a sleek mahogany desk, a comfortable leather chair, and a large window overlooking the city skyline. The plaque outside her door read "Lauren Miller, VP of Operations," and she still couldn't believe it.

As Lauren unboxed personal knick-knacks - mostly photos of her children and Corey - there was a knock on the open door. Looking over her shoulder, she could see it was one of the networking guys. The tall lanky one. The same one that was buddies with Steve, the guy in IT she'd slept with some months back.

"Got a trouble ticket here for your Wi-Fi connection? 

The new VP stood and walked behind her desk, the tech's eyes following her, glued to her ass. She wasn't trying to be sexy, not at all, but with those tight cheeks encased in taut pants, it was impossible not to be. Her long, straight black hair cascaded down her shoulders as she leaned over her desk, her piercing brown eyes focused on the screen in front of her. The scent of her strong, intoxicating perfume filled the room, making it difficult for the tech to focus on anything but her.

"Your name is, um, Shane, right?" Lauren asked as she moved her fingers over the trackpad. In doing so, her jacket shifted the camisole, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her lacy B-cup bra. Shane Carson couldn't help but stare. He felt his cock stir, remembering what those fleshy baseballs looked like through the window of that cowboy's yacht without any clothing. 

"Yeah, that's right."

"Hmm. Okay, see right here? I click on available networks but the Rekrap VPN never shows up."

Carson looked out the corner of his eye as Lauren bent further over the laptop, her squeaky-clean hair touching the keyboard. Jesus, that perfume! 

"Is it in airplane mode?"

"I don't think so, see?"

Shane leaned closer, a shoulder nearly touching hers. "Right. That's not it." He set his equipment down. "Might be the wireless adapter. Let me have a look."

Lauren turned her head towards his, lips no more than a foot away. "Sure, thanks. Be my hero."

While he worked on her laptop, Lauren sashayed back over to the box on the floor, her form-fitting pants hugging her curves as she moved. She bent down gracefully, bending her knees, hair cascading around her shoulders as she rummaged through the box, searching for the softball trophy she had won coaching her daughter Amelia. Only minutes passed before Shane was packing up his things.

"All fixed. Had to reinstall the adapter."

Lauren propped up her Iowa State degree on a shelf and turned on a dime, heels clicking. A glance confirmed she was back on the network. Shane jumped when the VP rested a hand on his forearm. 

"Thank you. You're one of Marjorie Olsen's crew, right? I'll make sure I mention your bedside manner to her."

The mention of a bed made Shane chuckle nervously with irony. "Sure, yeah, that would be great. Well bye."

Lauren thought nothing more of the interaction and went back to her box, lost in her thoughts. She didn't notice just how unnaturally long he lingered outside her office, his breath fogging up the glass panes.

+++++

Griffin Schultz leaned against a wall at the club, a charming smile on his face as he observed the plethora of women passing by his booth, en route to the ladies' room. His appearance, while not classically handsome, had an appealing ruggedness, and his expensive clothing certainly didn't hurt. Like the ladies, he was accustomed to sidelong glances and flirtatious smiles.

On most evenings, Schultz might have engaged with one who caught his eye, striking up a conversation as they returned from the restroom. Tonight, however, he had other plans, the result of another wide net cast. A woman, approximately his age, with long, dark hair and a mouthwatering ass, had piqued his interest on a different night on the very dance floor he was looking at. If his memory served him right, there had been a wedding ring, but her friends - a knockout redhead and a busty blonde - had dragged her away before he could ask. At least he was able to get a phone number first.

Lauren walked around the lower levels of the club, searching for the oddly attractive fellow who had asked for her number that fateful evening. She didn't remember much about him but recalled feeling a strong chemistry between them. While he wasn't conventionally handsome like a movie star, he possessed an abundance of charisma, and that was enough for her to want to see him again.

Griffin smiled cordially at the mature woman as she approached. The outfit she was wearing was conservative but daring enough to show off her curves. He rose from his seat and kissed the back of her left hand, then invited her to sit. The wedding ring was unmistakable. They talked about the usual mundane things first. He owned a pawn shop on the west side of town, nothing fancy, but enough for him to live comfortably. She spoke about her role at Rekrap Industries and how much she liked being in Miami... with her husband.

That got Griffin's attention. As a self-professed ladies' man, he knew there were a few types of married women who would give out their number in a bar. Those that were pissed at their husbands, those that weren't getting what they needed at home and were flat-out cheating, or those who did so with the blessing of their significant other. 

Of the three, Griffin preferred the latter as it was much safer. No jealous hubbies. He also thought of himself as an expert in playing the bull, and especially liked women whose guys were limp-dick wimps. These chicks were typically submissive to other men. And that was his specialty. Merciless humiliation with a little sadism mixed in... for everyone involved. 

"Does your husband know you're here?" Schultz asked as he twirled her ring around her finger. 

Lauren cast her eyes downward to her drink. It was a sign of submission that did not go unnoticed. "He does."

Griffin moved his other hand to the thin chain that held the locket buried beneath the top of her camisole, slowly pulling it out. With the flick of his thumb, it popped open, revealing the smiling newlyweds beaming back at him. Interesting choice of jewelry for a fling.

"First time?"

The Iowan wife laughed and brushed a strand of hair behind an ear. "We're not ready for any lifelong achievement awards, but no."

"Open marriage, then?"

"Not exactly. What's good for the goose is not good for the gander."

"Tell me about it," Griffin smiled warmly, closing his fingers into her palm. He was beginning to be glad he had dialed her number.

Lauren gave him a sidelong look. She wasn't ready to divulge her home life to a stranger. At least not before a few drinks. 

"Why don't we dance first?"

+++++

Zane Picardo stood behind the young Latina woman, her body slick with sweat as he pounded her with his crooked cock. She cried out in pleasure, her lack of English making it even hotter. 

"¡Joder, sí! ¡Oh Dios, jódeme!" the girl screamed, her voice bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit shed.

Zane's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he drove into the tight pussy again and again. He had found this one waitressing at a small cantina off the beaten path in Old Town, Key West. A long, black-haired beauty not unlike the Miller girls, although this one couldn't have been more than nineteen.

 "Hazme venirme," the pretty chica demanded, her glistening body bucking, gripping the shelves of musky tequila in the shack she had led the biker to behind the bar. It wasn't often that such a mysterious gringo came into her uncle's place. She'd been fucking customers in the shed out back since the tender age of eighteen, but nothing like this guy. And he was about to get her off.

The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and gasps, their slick skin sticking and releasing. 

"Oh, FUCK!" Zane yelled, ready to let go of his load. 

"¡Sí, sí, sí!"

Somewhere over the din of the carnal warbling, a commotion outside began to build. With a loud gasp, the girl pulled away from the mechanic, smoothed her skirt, and gathered the sides of her blouse. 

"¡Mi tío y mi padre!"

Now, Zane didn't know much Spanish, but he knew enough to know there was fear in that voice. Someone was coming, and it wasn't going to be him. Not only that, but a close-knit Latino community like this wouldn't care much for a fifty-eight-year-old drifter robbing the cradle. Understanding his luck had run out, he scanned the shed for an escape route, eyes settling on the rear wall. With a swift kick, the rotting wood broke away easily and he sprinted through the tall grass, making his way to the cantina's parking lot. Once there, the biker carefully surveyed the area, taking note of the patrons who were heading towards the commotion in the back. Seeing an opportunity, he made a beeline for Betsy and quickly fired up the big cruiser. He didn't ease up until he hit the blacktop about a mile off the dirt road that he had somehow found his way down earlier. 

Zane let out a sigh of relief. Holy fuck, that was close. And although he didn't blow, it had been totally worth it. The comely Cuban had indeed reminded him of Lauren and Caroline, only with a tighter pussy. Fond memories of banging mom and daughter were something he'd jerked off to many lonely nights since he'd left Miami under the auspices of 'finding himself'. What he hadn't told Corey and Lauren was that he had actually quit his job just before helping the family move. Despite having won many awards, repairing motorcycles wasn't what he wanted to die doing. And with sixty staring him in the face, he had decided he had to do something about it. Until now, wandering around the tip of the U.S. on Betsy and getting the occasional strange was all he'd come up with. 

+++++

By half-past nine, Lauren and Griffin had warmed up to each other remarkably well, sharing a few kisses on the dance floor. By ten, they were more than a little tipsy and in a ride-share on their way to the Majestic Summit Arms, their hands exploring each other's bodies in the back seat in full view of the wide-eyed driver. Initially, Griffin had suggested heading to his place in Pinecrest, but since Lauren's apartment was just a few minutes away, it seemed the better option.

The groping continued through the lobby where a stop at the front desk led to a smirking Harvey providing her with a fob to the Rekrap leased unit on twenty-three. She was on the permanent entry list, leaving little room for objection. Upon stumbling towards the elevators, the couple crossed paths with only one other resident: Lauren's nosy neighbor, who shot them a disapproving glance as she took her dog out for the last time that evening. Finding that amusing, Lauren stuck her tongue out playfully behind the old lady's back, nudging Griffin into the elevator with a giggle.

+++++

Shortly thereafter, Corey heard a bump in the hallway outside the apartment door, as if someone had fallen against a wall. He had been lounging on the couch waiting for Lauren to return from her work function and watching Team Stoner and Team Jock battle for island immunity and a one-million-dollar prize. Personally, he was rooting for Team Stoner.

Just when the tribe was voting off another contestant, the second bump came, followed by hushed laughter as whoever it was pinballed off the walls. They were getting closer. Intrigued, and a little bit bored, Corey tore away from the screen and padded to the apartment's door. Peering through the peephole, a couple of faces passed by, unrecognizable in the elongated, distorted view. A guy and a gal, that was for sure, drunk and giggling. Shaking his head, he returned to the sofa and the TV. A soft drink commercial was on.

Crap, missed it. Who got kicked off?

+++++

Lauren's lips were locked with Griffin's, her eyes sneaking a peek at the metal door of 23f as they stumbled down the hallway. Was there a bit of movement in the peephole as they passed? She couldn't lie. That her husband was on the other side doing God knows what while another man manhandled her was empowering and energizing. Pulling her date further down the corridor, they continued to stagger until reaching 23m, the Rekrap unit leased for visiting VIPs. Knowing no one was there, the company's sexiest brunette opened the door with the fob and pushed Schultz inside. Immediately, her fingers traced his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. She could feel his cock stiffening in his pants and bit her lip with anticipation.

Griffin's hands continued to explore Lauren's body, cupping her breasts and squeezing them gently. She moaned, arching her back and offering him her neck. In no time, he shed his tweed sports coat, letting it flutter to the floor. The beautiful executive made quick work of her jacket and pulled his polo shirt over his head. Sinking to her haunches, she unbuckled his trousers, allowing them to fall to his ankles. In doing so, the fully erect cock popped through the fly of his underwear. Always one to oblige, Lauren yanked the Hanes to the floor and wrapped her fingers around its girth. Griffin shuddered and groaned, his head falling back in pleasure as she began to tease him.

Leaning forward, her tongue darted out to swirl around the tip of his cock, tasting the salty-sweet flavor of his precum. She took him deeper into her mouth, her lips stretching around the thick shaft. As Griffin began to thrust, she dug her fingers into the firm flesh of his hairy ass, pulling him deeper into her throat. The sensation of his cock hitting the roof was intense, rubbing her tonsils raw with every thrust. 

"Acccckkkkkkk."

Griffin's temper turned darker, his grip on her hair tightening as he continued to fuck her mouth.

"You like that dick, bitch?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

"Gaaahhhhhhhh."

Twisting her long black hair around his fist, he jerked her head to get the best angle of attack.

"Shut the fuck up and suck my cock."

Alarmed by the sudden change in her date's demeanor, Lauren tried to pull back, only to be met with greater force. Struggling for air, Lauren had no choice but to take every bit of his length, choking back her saliva and his leakage as swinging balls slapped her chin.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, slut?"

The brutal and relentless oral incursion continued. Writhing against his strong grip, panicked whimpers escaped the corners of her mouth as did a frothy waterfall of spit and cum. Just as suffocation became a real concern, Griffin let out guttural groans, feeling himself on the cusp. With one final thrust, he held her nose to his wiry pubes and exploded, sending cum spewing down Lauren's throat. It was a major load, one that would have been difficult to swallow even in more laid-back conditions. This time, survival instincts caused her to push back against his thighs, freeing her mouth from the wide and fleshy plug. Falling to the floor, she choked and coughed, nearly vomiting. 

Laughing, Schultz towered over her figure crumpled on the apartment hardwood. "You like it rough, eh?"

Lauren rolled over onto her back, sputtering and wiping her lips. "Is that all you got?"

Griffin walked over to a small stereo on a shelf and turned it on, tuning the dial to a hard rock station.

"That's my girl," he chortled as he grabbed her hair once again and dragged the married vamp across the living room carpet to the bedroom. "C'mon, cunt, you ain't seen nothing yet."

+++++

It had been about an hour since Corey had heard the disturbance in the normally quiet hallway when he heard an almost imperceptible scratching noise. Muting the TV, he cocked his head to one side. There it was again. 

Mice? On the twenty-third floor?

Standing, he slowly walked around, listening intently. Nearing the kitchen, he stopped and happened to look at the bottom of the apartment door just as a piece of paper was being pushed between the sweep and the sill.  

What the fuck?

Cautiously, he tip-toed over and put his ear to the jamb but heard nothing from the hallway. Below, a small piece of lined paper was folded in half. Picking it up, he squinted at the simple handwritten message.

23m.

Corey blinked his eyes. Twenty-three M? For a moment it didn't click. Then it did. 

The Rekrap unit? Why on earth would someone shove THAT under the door?

Was there something wrong? Mechanical failure? A leak? Should he call Lauren? No, it wasn't like she could do anything. 

Curious, Corey peeked out into the hallway and looked both ways. No sign of whoever had left the note. Padding down the corridor in his sock feet, he stopped in front of 23m and put his ear to the steel door. There were no voices, but there was clearly hard rock music coming from within. That didn't seem right. It would be odd for anyone out of town to be visiting Rekrap on the weekends. Not to mention, Lauren hadn't said anything about visitors.

Deciding not to bother her with something that might be nothing, Corey rode the elevator down to the lobby to inquire at the front desk, only to be greeted by a grinning concierge.

"Harvey, is there anyone staying in 23m tonight?"

The elderly attendant could hardly contain himself but managed a straight face. 

"Not that I know of, sir. Is there a problem?"

"There's music coming from the apartment."

"That is odd." 

For the briefest of moments, the two men stood staring at each other. Finally, Harvey opened a locked cabinet and returned with a key fob. 

"I know this is unorthodox," he deadpanned, trying not to burst out laughing, "but I'm here by myself and can't leave the lobby. Would you be so kind as to check things out up there? I fear it might be an alarm clock left programmed by a previous guest and I wouldn't want it to disturb the surrounding residents."

Alarm clock. Corey mulled this over. That was quite likely what he heard. He took the key, promising to report what he found.

"Thank you so much, sir. Just silence whatever you find," Harvey cackled as the cuckold in 23f walked away. 

Best of luck, you clueless fool.

 +++++ 

Corey cautiously pushed open the door to the Rekrap leased apartment and was surprised to find a table lamp lit.

Who knows how long its been on?

Even odder was the music coming from the two bookshelf speakers. 

That's no alarm clock.

Moving towards the stereo, he nearly tripped over dark clothing that was barely perceptible in the dim lighting. 

The fuck?

It was then he heard muffled voices coming from the bedroom. 

Christ Almighty. There IS someone here. I need to go!

As Corey turned to leave, he stopped and reconsidered. There was a lot of Lauren's stuff in that closet. Expensive clothing. I can't just let it be stolen. 

Mustering up some bravado, the project manager crept stealthily toward the bedroom. There were indiscernible whispers and a few giggles. As he peered around the door jamb, the sight forced a small cry from his lungs. No need to call the police or the front desk. No need to call Lauren. She was already aware. Very aware. Because there on the bed was his wife, naked and straddling a stranger's hips while leaning over the man's muscular body, snorting a line of coke off his hairy belly. Her own six-pack was stretched taut as she bent forward, ripples forming from one oblique to the other, and the small mounds of her breasts were hanging down, nipples pink and pointy.

The sudden rush hit Lauren hard, forcing her to sit up, arching her back, and flipping her mane so it cascaded down her back in a flurry of hair. The heart-shaped locket given to her for Valentine's Day swung against her upper chest.

"Oh yeah," Corey heard her utter as she wiped her nose. Her hips started to move, gyrating, grinding. The bastard is already in her.

"FUCK ME," the man demanded, smacking her ass. It shook with a loud POP.

Lauren doubled her efforts, gliding up and down his pelvis with glee. She rode him hard, hips swiveling, grinding. From the doorway, Corey could see the O-ring of her vestibule gripping and releasing the condom-clad thick shaft with every thrust, a white spume oozing from the depths. The brunette's tits bounced and swayed as she groped and squeezed them, pinching each nipple hard, while Griffin clutched the doxy wife's hips, directing and guiding her.

Slap, slap. His hands smacked her face, then her tits, causing Lauren to cry out. 

"Make me cum again, bitch."

Corey felt unsteady. Again?

Her bronzed skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, her long locks cascading down her back like a black waterfall. Leaning over, Lauren's spine pressed against her back, shoulder blades flexing. She grasped her lover's shoulders and flattened against his body, her chest against his. For several minutes they continued the slippery glissade, moaning. Occasionally, Griffin would twist her tits, causing her to yelp in pain. 

"Harder," Lauren pleaded. "Do it harder."

His fingers were as tight as a vice when he applied full pressure, followed by nipple pulling and twisting. The louder Lauren shrieked, the harder he squeezed. Then, suddenly, Griffin's warm wet mouth found them, slurping the rigid nubs before firmly biting the teats that had long ago fed two babies. 

"Ow-ooooooooooo," she howled, relishing in the pain that he was inflicting. 

Corey's knees began to shake as the pounding of his wife continued, the stranger's hips thrusting upwards, driving his cock deeper. The man knew how to fuck as evidenced by her reactions. Once again, he slapped her tiny baseball-sized breasts, then flicked the nipples, letting his nails strike the fleshy tips. 

Lauren winced. 

"Hubby screw you like this?" Griffin asked breathlessly.

She shook her head, her long tresses now drenched in sweat and wildly disheveled. "He can't."

"What? Why?"

 "He can't... can't get it up unless I'm taking other dick."

"Floppy horse, eh?"

 Lauren laughed, then caught her breath while Schultz drove his cock deeper into her eager cunt.

"Not even a Shetland pony. No way he fucks me like this."

Corey let out a pained whimper, his grip tightening on the doorjamb as the dagger mercilessly pierced his heart. It wasn't like it was for his benefit. She didn't even know he was around. This was Lauren 3.0. Darker. Malignant. Fucking for the sake of fucking. His wife in the wild.

"Yes, yes!" she cried out, her body shaking with each powerful piercing. "Give it to me! Make me yours!"

Make me yours.

The bleat from the older man was almost imperceptible over the heavy metal but was enough to draw the attention of the lovers on the bed. Both heads snapped towards the door in surprise.

Lauren muttered with consternation. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment and frustration when she realized who it was. "Really? Again?"  

Griffin propped himself up on his elbows and eyed the graying man staring back at them. Whoever it was, it was clear the broad knew the guy and he was no threat. The contempt on her face told him who it was.

"So, this is him."

Lauren nodded, angry at being spied on yet again.

"I-I-I'm sorry," Corey blurted. "Harvey said there should be nobody here. He wanted me to check. You know, just to make sure..."

"Please, just GO."

Despondent, the contrite husband turned to leave, confused and a bit hurt from what she'd said.

"Now wait a minute," Schultz countered piggishly, anticipating a bit more fun than he had expected. "Why not let him hang? Add to the ambiance." 

Lauren let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "Fine." Her lips pursed in a tight, thin line. And all I wanted to do was get laid.

"Well, then," Griffin exclaimed with almost too much mirth, "come on over buddy, pull up a chair."

Corey hesitated. He didn't know this guy and knew that was true for Lauren as well. Against his better judgment, the usually poised and in-control project manager trudged wearily into the bedroom, his body aching with each step. The weight of his heart seemed to drag him down as he slowly collapsed into a plush leather chair, the earlier cheap shot a bit unhinging. This wasn't the Lauren he knew, the cuckoldress who brought excitement into their lives. No, this was a darker version of her, fueled by a sense of malice.

Schultz whispered something in her ear and she swung off his cock. Corey watched as his sizeable member began to withdraw from Lauren's moist depths, inch by tantalizing inch, like a sand worm extracting itself. Laying on her back, head on a pillow, she fluffed her hair out, enveloping her body like a coal black cape.

"You want to watch me fuck your wife, don't you, my man?"

Corey's brow furrowed, his own erection now straining against his shorts. God help him, he did. The nod was faint, but it was there. 

"Say WHAT?" Griffin raised his voice.

"Yes."

The corners of the man's mouth curled into a smug grin. Lauren felt the mattress depress beneath her as her newest lover moved between her legs. Corey could sense... what had she called him? Griffin? Could sense Griffin's amusement in his laughter as he watched her latest recruit positioning to mount his wife. Shifting in place, Lauren prepared herself, moaning as she felt his cock teasingly prod at her well-worn slit, slowly sliding up her wetness. Her mewing grew more desperate, her hips involuntarily bucking towards him. Suddenly, she felt the sting of his hand connecting with her face.

"Did I say to move?" Another slap. "Huh? Did I?" Griffin turned to Corey who was squirming in the chair not more than five feet away. "Did I tell her to move?"

The older man shook his head vigorously, like a schoolboy knowing better than to disagree. With a satisfied grunt, Schultz thrust his cock deep into her hapless cunt, filling her completely. The pleasure was so intense that Lauren couldn't help but scream. She closed her arms around his shoulder blades and intertwined her fingers. 

"Fuck me to hell," she uttered as it sank deep. Each thrust of his hips drove his erect cock deeper and deeper. Every nerve ending was firing and sparking, every part of her so incredibly alive. Her eyes rolled back with the sheer ecstasy of being used by this literal stranger. And use her he did. Withdrawing his dick from her canal, leaving only the tip inside her, Griffin waited, watching her intently. In response, she screamed at him, begging and pleading for him to fuck her.

"Pleeeeeeeese!"

 With a single, forceful thrust, he filled her again, his cockhead probing her womb. The pleasure made her repeatedly bray like a mule. Over and over, he drove into her, fucking her relentlessly, claiming her as his own. He played with her, teased her, and tormented her, reveling in the audience that was her husband.

Suddenly, Lauren's entire body seemed to levitate, her back and ass rising off the bed. Griffin held her tightly as that long black mane cascaded down to the sheets below, her grip on his neck firm. Slowly, he gently lowered her back to the mattress, allowing her to catch her breath. But not for long.

The man's eyes smoldered as he flipped her onto her belly, pulling her hips towards his. Griffin's cock twitched with anticipation as he traced the length of Lauren's crack, the tip of his manhood exploring the lily-white surface. He could feel the heat radiating from her, warming his glans. With slow, deliberate motions, he teased her pussy lips, circling each crevice. She trembled, body tensing, not knowing when penetration was coming, nor what hole he would choose. Moaning, Lauren rotated her hips, encouraging him to get the inevitable over with so she could enjoy the fullness it brought. 

But the man from Club X was damn near a professional. He was in no rush. He wanted to savor every moment, occasionally glancing over at her husband, seemingly frozen in place, slack-jawed.

"Tell me to do it, cuck. You know you want me to."

Being spoken to directly snapped Corey out of his trance. He wheezed, then coughed. 

"Yeah, do it." 

"Do what?"

"Fuck her. Fuck the whore. Fuck my wife." 

Griffin guffawed. "Don't mind if I do, you sorry piece of shit." He traced the length of Lauren's crack once more, before plunging deep inside her, filling her completely.

"Oooooooooooh, oooooooooh!"

Schultz gripped her hips, driving into her with fierce, primal passion. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, gripping him tight as she rode the wave of one orgasm after another. Short, strong smacks to her ass prolonged the climaxes. "Let it out, bitch."

"Eye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Fuck me! Gawwwwd, FUCK ME, GRIFF!"

He pushed her flatter, face planted deep in the pillows. 

"Tell him how much you love my cock."

"Hmfffffff. I-I-I love his cock, Corey. I love every inch of it!"

"You can't even feel his tiny dick."

"I can't. Ohhhhhhhhh MY GOD, I can't. He's SUCH a worthless fuck." 

A sudden thrust launched Lauren's face into the headboard. 

"You hear that, you poor bastard?" Griffin sneered at the graying wittol watching from the chair. "She only wants big junk now." 

"Tell me I'm trash, call me a whore!" Lauren begged.

"You dirty bitch, whoring around on this piece of shit! You're both trash, garbage on my shoe."

"YESSSSSSSSSSS!"

Again and again, the younger man thrust into Lauren, causing her breasts to bounce with each movement. He groaned as she shouted incomprehensibly, her eyes clenched shut and her mouth open in a silent "O." Reaching around, Griffin grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back, allowing both men to see her expression of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her eyes were half-lidded, mouth open in a silent scream as she tried to catch her breath. And she might have, had it not been for him leaning over and rubbing her clit, hard and undulating under his fingers. 

"FUCK MEEEEEE, GIFFINNNNN!"

"Cum for me you stupid slut!"

"UNNNNGGGAAAH!"

Lauren's body tensed up, her toes curling as she felt the familiar wave of pleasure building up inside of her. She could feel every inch of Griffin's cock filling her up, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate as he chased his own release. 

"Beg for it, tramp," he growled, slapping her ass hard.      

"Do me, do me, baby!"

Plunging repeatedly, hard and fast, her pussy stretched to accommodate his assault, the sound of his balls slapping against her clit.

"You like that, you dirty little whore?"

OH FUCK, YES! YES, YES, YES! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING! OH GOD, YES, YES, YES! DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! OH MY GOD, YESSSSSSSSS!"

 The roller coaster had been rising, anticipation building up as Lauren's date thrust into her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. And then, just as she reached the top of the hill, she tipped over the edge and plunged into the abyss, peaking. Her pussy clenched around Griffin's cock, her juices spraying onto his groin. It was like a wave, crashing over her and washing away all coherent thoughts. She could only feel her body trembling and shaking. Seconds later, the wayward VP collapsed onto the bed. But it wasn't over. No, not by a long shot. While Lauren was cumming, Schultz had glanced over at Corey and noticed him rubbing his tented crotch. 

"Hey man, get over here. We're all friends, right?" 

Corey's chest heaved with anguish as he looked down and realized his hand had slipped below his shorts. He had been enthralled by the guy mercilessly pounding his wife. The sound of flesh slapping flesh, accompanied by Lauren's wanton moans and cries of pleasure, was mesmerizing. He simply couldn't tear his eyes away. Each powerful thrust elicited a gasp from her lips, her body arching to meet his every movement. It was a feat that Corey was no longer capable of.

Lauren's eyes fluttered open when she heard Schultz invite her husband to join them. Those brown beauties locked onto Corey's gaze, drawing him in. The felicity etched across her face was mixed with a hint of mischief, and her cuckoldress haughtiness kicked in. She knew the effect this was having on him, and she beckoned him closer.

"Come here, babe," she purred. "You like seeing me take cock, don't you?" 

Corey stepped forward, his knees weak and trembling. 

"You want to taste me? You want to feel how wet and tight I am for him?"

Nodding absentmindedly as if in a fog, he moved with trepidation and crawled on the mattress beneath Lauren's supine body. Careful not to disturb the rhythm between Griffin and his wife, Corey wriggled on his back past her taut abs and beyond her belly button. She lifted an arm to let him slide under. Shifting to and fro, he shimmied until his face was nestled below her glistening pussy and Griffin's wide latex-wrapped girth slid in and out like a piston. His eyes widened as he noticed the hairy nutsack hovering above his forehead, swinging with each passionate thrust. 

"How we doin' down there, champ?" Schultz laughed. "Enjoying the view?"

As the heat generated from the coupling inches from his nose continued, he could feel Lauren's mouth descend on his antiquated dick, giving it a gentle suck.

"Hardly worth your time, huh?" Griffin asked, taking delight in the dumb cuck's predicament. 

Lauren sneered, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "I can't stand this pathetic worm anymore," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's like trying to fuck a wet noodle. Not even worth mentioning. I might as well be fucking a Ken doll."

Corey felt the taunt crush his dignity and grip his chest like a vice. He nearly came, but could only muster a few precum dollops, which didn't escape his wife and lover.

"Whoa, there limp dick," Griffin slowed his pace. "Don't you cum yet."

The sight of her husband's decidedly ineffective tool spitting out a dab of jizz lit up his wife like a Roman candle. She let out a scream as she came, her pussy flooding Corey's mouth with her juices, mixing with the man's sack pubes that were beginning to stick to his own hair. Taking advantage of the pause as Lauren orgasmed, Griffin pulled out, the underside of his long rubber-sheathed member briefly flopping onto Corey's cheek. Suddenly, he ripped the condom off and tossed it aside.

"WAIT!" she pleaded, but it was too late. Her date had already plunged back into her reddened cunt without so much as a thought. 

As Schultz's thrusts grew more frenzied, the sound of his balls slapping against Lauren's taint and Corey's forehead filled the room. Griffin's hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounded into her. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and Corey could see the tension building in his muscles. The man's unprotected cock was swollen and red, the veins standing out in relief while he fucked her with everything he had, the long artery occasionally sliding along the wittol's nose. There was heated friction as Lauren's belly began to rub against Corey's portly tummy, her long hair dangling to the sheets, brushing up against his withered dick, the strands tickling the sensitive glans.

Griffin's thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing becoming more labored. Corey could feel the man's cock twitching inside his wife's pussy, and he knew that the guy was close to cumming. He watched as Griffin's balls drew up close to his body, the skin tightening as he prepared to unload. With a loud grunt, Griffin's cock twitched and then exploded, cum shooting out of the tip in long, thick ropes. Lauren meowed as she felt the hot jizz filling her up, her pussy contracting around the large cock as she came again. When he finally pulled out, spunk squirted from her pussy, landing on Corey's chin. Remnants of the load leaked from the spent cock as the heavy meat plopped onto his face, the hot muscles still spasming against his cheek. For a moment Corey thought he was going to puke.

Eventually, Griffin moved away, his cock slapping the cuck's face again as he swung his hips off the married whore and collapsed on the bed beside her. Rolling onto her back, her body slick with sweat and semen, she looked at Corey, eyes glazed with a satiated look. Reaching down, she began to stroke his tormented dick.

"Did you enjoy that, babe?" Lauren asked, her tone laden with sarcasm. She spread her legs, her pussy still gaping from Griffin's cock, and pulled her husband on top of her.

"Fuck yeah, my dude," the younger man jeered. "Get you some sloppy seconds."

Like an eager teenager, Corey shed his clothes and climbed on top of his wife, like it was some kind of privilege, his withered dick pressing against her wet pussy. He could feel the heat of her cunt, the way it pulsed and contracted as she waited for him. It pushed inside her, his dick sliding along easily, thanks to Shultz's load greasing the way. She was loose, stretched by the girth that came before. He could feel the heat of her sopping gash though, and the way it surrounded and enveloped his cock.

Inside, what semen hadn't been consumed by her womb coated the canal, making the viscosity unlike any lube they had used before. It felt warm. Smooth. Gooey. Almost like a silk stocking, but slicker. Corey could hear her pussy fart, ridding itself of the air bubbles pumped into it by Griffin's massive member. 

"Jesus, Fatty," she sneered, "the neighbor's dog has a bigger dick."

Corey's face flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking her, even as she belittled him. It was so hot.

Folding her arms around his back, Lauren pulled him in close, glancing over at her date. "Don't worry, this won't take long."

As if to prove her wrong, the older man readjusted his mount, planting his stiff arms and hands above her shoulders. He began to huff and puff as he tried to quicken the pace. It soon was clear he was struggling; his sixty-one-year-old limbs just didn't have the strength. 

"Looks like someone needs a gym," Griffin said, deriding Corey's flabby body. He gestured to the pulpous chest, sneering. "Nice tits though."

"Do you feel it, cucky?" Lauren whispered. "The load he blew in me?"

Corey grimaced. NO, he wasn't going to cum...mustn't cum...

Had. To. Last.

Standing up on the mattress, Schultz carefully balanced himself, then gripped the headboard, where he proceeded to jack off just above Lauren's head.

"So weak, so pathetic," Lauren dripped with disdain. "I can't believe I ever married you." Looking up at the fleshy meat of Griffin's dick above her, she scoffed. "Now THAT is a real dick."

Corey was a mess of emotions as he plunged his unappreciated cock into his promiscuous wife, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. But he held his ground, aroused by every vicious word that she spat at him. Fucking her, he glanced up at Griffin, who stood towering over them, a much more impressive cock in his hand. His ass was hairy and muscular, hovering just above the two as he stroked himself off. Lauren moaned, loving the way the men were using her for their own gratification. 

But try as he might, Corey's aging body began to betray him. As his thrusts grew weaker, his hips moved more slowly. It had only been a few minutes, but the fatigue was setting in, his muscles aching and protesting.

"What the hell, Twisty? Stop humping me like a faggot. FUCK ME, LOSER!"

Griffin cackled. "Looo-zerrrrr, looo-zerrrrr...OH FUCK!"

Above him, Corey saw rippling buttock muscles contract. Reaching down, the guy held Lauren's locket in his hand, flicking it open again to reveal the twenty-eight-year-old wedding photos. 

"Pathetic cuck," Schultz thundered as he took aim.

Corey froze, gripped with disbelief. "No!"

It was too late. Griffin howled at the ceiling as he unleashed another torrent of milky-white ejaculate over their heads, most of it coating the smiling pictures of the Millers with thick seed. 

In that instant, Corey felt like he was falling, somehow floating outside of his own body. He could feel the orgasm building inside him; a perverted, disgusting, profane release bubbling up until it launched. He came, that much he remembers, and while it may have been physically weak and feeble, the emotional reverb was larger than life. The disappointment and humiliation washed over him as somewhere in the room, he could hear the raucous muffled laughter of his wife and her lover, mocking and belittling him.
And then it was oddly quiet as reality came flooding back. Tears streamed down his face and dripped onto his floppy chest. They burned and stung in more ways than one. Slowly, he pushed off Lauren, feeling the ache in his muscles and the way they protested with every movement. The exhaustion was real, as well as the post-nut clarity. He sat up on the mattress to find both tittering and smirking. The locket laying against her breasts looked like it had been dipped in white icing.

"Sorry about that, my friend," Griffin simpered as he settled next to the dark-haired vixen, cuddling with her. "Quite indicative of your marriage these days, eh?" He offered Lauren a bump of coke which she readily took.

Grinning, she then scooped some cum from the pendant and held her hand out to her husband.

"Care for a taste?"

Corey froze, not knowing what to do. The thought of eating another man's spew made him ill, but the appeal of such unparalleled humiliation was a powerful consideration, drawing him closer to the small palm filled with the man's opaque seminal fluid.

"Go ahead, baby," Lauren cooed. "Lick it up. Tastes like chicken."

The skeptical Miller patriarch hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the small pool of cum nestled in Lauren's outstretched hand. Corey could feel his cock twitching and growing in both disgust and anticipation of what he was contemplating. Finally, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, his tongue darting out to taste Griffin's sperm. The texture was slimy and salty, coating his tongue and making him gag slightly. The ignominy and shame of the act bore witness to the fact that he was not gay, but rather caught up in a powerful aphrodisiac that was his fetish.

Lauren watched him with a depraved stare, knowing that she was twisting the screws tighter, blowing the top off her husband's cuck meter. "That's a good boy," she said blithely.

It was another out-of-body experience, one which he couldn't believe he was doing, yet couldn't deny the obscene thrill. He felt like a slut, a whore, nothing more or less than his wife was at that moment. As he finished licking the cum from Lauren's hand, she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss, their tongues twisting together as they shared the taste of another man's semen. Corey moaned into the kiss, his cock throbbing with need as he damn near came again. Then, something happened. Pushing his face away with a sticky palm to his cheek, her eyes became cold and cruel, her lips curled in a sneer.

"Now get the fuck out of here, you sick prick," she goaded him. "Do you even love me anymore? Or do you just love the idea of me, the fantasy and you being a loser who gets off on watching other men fuck me?"

Her words hit Corey like a punch to the gut, the pain and humiliation overwhelming.

"Get out. Maybe I'll be home later, maybe I won't. Not that you care."

The senescent project manager slithered off the mattress and grabbed his clothes. He didn't look back as he left the room, the sound of their laughter chasing him out the door. 

"Oh," Lauren called after her husband, "tell Harvey to go fuck himself. He set you up." 

Corey sighed, trudging slowly back to their apartment, the taste of cum in his mouth and an ache in his heart. It was heavy, weighty, overwhelming angst. He was nearly there when he saw the door to 23g crack open. Beady eyes peered back at him from the darkness within.

Gertrude Lagily.

Stopping in his tracks, he began to realize who had sent the note. "You."

"If a cheater screams in the bedroom, does anyone hear it?"

Corey's face fell as he processed the old woman's clever remark. He opened his mouth to respond but found no words. Hanging his head, he swiped the fob at his own door and entered. After twisting a top off a beer and throwing the cap in the sink, he flopped down on the living room sofa and closed his eyes.

Yes, the aging wittol exhaled.

Loud and clear.

+++++

[SimpleEnigma]

When will the Victory Bell be rung again? Try again next year, Cy

[Breakerhymen]

Go Pack!!

[Johng1953]

Well that's Lauren back to her best (worst?)!
Yet I find myself more concerned with her turning into a junkie.

[Breakerhymen]

The drugs may become problematic….so too the self destructive behavior of Corey…..or SE.

[venus-can99]

Thanks for yet another erotic, action filled chapter SimpleEnigma. Looking forward to reading more

[Barthvader]

Dit she leve you ?
Oh no ........

[SimpleEnigma]

LOL, well, seeing as she's sitting next to me watching the latest episode of 9-1-1, I guess she's still around.

On another note, contrary to what many non-users believe, the use of coke does not automatically spell addiction. That's not to say there aren't plenty of users whom the drug has destroyed, so I'm in no way trying to make light of that. It can be evil.

Lauren's use of coke was prevalent for a while, but always stayed just this side of addiction. Weeks, even months could go by without nary a flake around and she'd be fine. It truly stayed recreational although one would argue that her blowing guys for eight balls would mirror the actions of an addict. I'll let her weigh in on that.

Please also remember that the June thru (now) April time frame that is in the Ascending Lauren series equates to roughly 1 year for every month in the saga. Her 'slut years' if you will. So her escapades were spaced out over time, not compressed like the story.

So please relax and know that she came through all this fine, and now in our sixties, we just enjoy a little herb now and again.

Oh, and BTW, congrats to all the Gamecock and Huskies fans. Well done!

[Breakerhymen]

The drugs just simply help make poor decisions for those who abuse them….although as you aptly put it she seems to have made those that floated your boat and navigated those situations deftly, and you have a wonderful successful life together and with others, plenty to reflect on and titillate us with. I dont always understand the wittol in you SE but i respect your relationship, the strength and commitment to each other, and Lauren’s sexual growth, abd willingness to explore your kink together!

[knighter33]

Wowee - awesome chapter. Thanks for taking the effort to write it up.

Love it when Lauren turns the screws like that. So hot.

And to think Corey hasn't been pushed "enough" to use his safe word yet. Yikes!

[hongtea]

Curious as to how much of the remainder of the story is mapped out. I know last time I asked it was estimated 75% of the story was completed and you guys are planning to delve into writing other stories. Is the ending in sight soon, maybe within the next year? Would be interested in side stories about the other side characters.

[SimpleEnigma]

Lauren here (Simple is on his way to Manitoba for business this week).

@Breakerhymen: no doubt drugs (both prescription and recreational) can foster bad decisions. I'll admit I made a few when coke and other meds got the best of me there for a while. They persuaded me to open my legs a few more times than I should have. That being said, I was able to come out on the other side with only a few scars, unlike many back in the 70s/80s.

@knighter33: IRL, like you, I kept turning up the heat, thinking that surely I would hit Corey's breaking point.

@hongtea: There are 3 problems with keeping the Ascending Lauren series going.

The first is that there are only so many ways to write about sex with the same protagonists and keep it fresh (much like marriage). As we've said many times before, tab A can go into slot B only so many ways.

The second has to do with the first, in that what started out on a whim to pass time during COVID now has a greater audience than we ever dreamed of. It began with email exclusively for the eyes of 8 or so couples. We were told we should share that on the internet, and now it has many fans. Unfortunately, the pressure to keep delivering quality tales that are ripped from the headlines of real lives takes some diligence, and with grandkids, work, and life, it is increasingly hard to deliver.

The third problem is, simply put, we are still alive. Although we've slowed down in our 'old age', we are still making memories that could be used to propagate AL for quite some time. But AL cannot go on forever, that much is certain. Because Simple has expressed interest in writing pure fiction, I see AL as morphing into gradually spinning off some of its characters towards fictional situations. Caroline is one such character. Readers frequently ask for more of her, but the truth is, her appearance in AL was simply as a catalyst to the retelling our friends' story about cucking Simple's buddy. But beyond that context, we have no further information on her life so anything new would definitely be fan-fiction. Perhaps one day.

Love,

Lauren

[Breakerhymen]

This fan simply wants more Lauren!!!!!

[SimpleEnigma]

**************
Chapter 29
**************
==================
Saturday, April 28th
==================

Corey Miller lay in bed, staring at the swirling sand patterns on the ceiling. After what could only be described as an intensely debasing and humiliating scene, in which his fetish had been exploited ten-fold, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that accompanied his post-nut clarity.

Lately, Lauren had been turning up the heat, becoming even more brazen and resolute in her role as an enabler. At times, it felt as though she was using his proclivities to her own end, permission to be the wild girl that had probably always been there but suppressed by social norms. These days, it seemed that something darker was afoot. Something malicious. The way she casually tossed around humiliation at his expense, even when she was unaware he was around. This appeared less an act of catering to her husband's fetish and more the propensity to humiliate viciously. Like she was starting to believe it herself.

It was eight o'clock that Saturday morning when he heard the door to their apartment open and then close. Seconds later he could feel Lauren's presence standing over the bed while he lay under the sheets.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

Corey opened one eye and saw she still had on her work clothes from the night before. "Yes." He swallowed hard. "You spent the night with him." It was a statement rather than a question.

"I did."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"What was your first clue?"

The sixty-one-year-old rolled over on his side, facing the other way. "Will you see him again?"

"I don't know. He is a very good lover."

The pangs of jealousy raged through Corey's veins, which all seemed to meet at his groin, causing it to twitch. The sight of his wife riding Griffin Shultz's cock, initially covered with a condom, slipping in and out of her, had both aroused and emasculated the graying wittol, consumed by a twisted cocktail of lust and humiliation.

After starting the shower and while waiting for hot water, Lauren stuck her head back in the bedroom .

"I have to run to the office for a while to ensure a shipment goes out today. Won't be long."

Corey pulled a pillow over his head. "Don't forget we're meeting Dale and his wife for lunch at the gallery this afternoon. They've been wanting to meet you."

"I remember. I'll be back by noon and you can drive us over in your fancy new car."

The exhausted project manager murmured something indecipherable while pulling the covers up higher. He was glad to have a couple more hours of sleep.

+++++

One of the perks of living in downtown Miami was walkability, and that was never truer in Lauren's case, living just a few blocks from Rekrap Industries headquarters. As the pretty brunette walked to the high-rise office building, she enjoyed the mid-morning sun on her face and the cool breeze that fluttered the hem of a blue and white polka dot button-front dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she had a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head, at the ready in case they were needed.

Strolling through Rekrap's lobby, she swiped her badge to gain access to the inner doors and bypassed the elevators. Instead, Lauren headed directly to the order fulfillment department. The fiberglass order that was going out that day was Rekrap's third largest order that year, and she wanted to ensure it was accurate and without issues. The new VP could have phoned this one in, checking status from the comfort of her apartment, but this one was too important to fuck up.

Together, she and the provisioning supervisor Mark Betlend huddled over the manifest as Lauren's eyes scanned the pages. She checked and double-checked, her fingers tracing the lines of text. Each item, each detail, had to be accounted for.

"Good," Lauren finally nodded. "Send it out."

Relieved there were no problems with the shipment, she excused herself, telling Mark that she'd be in her office for a bit if anything else came up. Leaning back against the wall of the elevator as it rose silently to the executive level, she sighed. Finally, an order that had gone smoothly. When the doors opened with a quiet ding, Lauren stepped out into the empty hallway. Her heels clicked softly on the tile as she walked, the only sound in the stillness. On Saturdays, headquarters was usually all but abandoned. Unlocking her office, she quietly slipped inside, to use the solitude to tackle the busy work that had accumulated over the busy week. There were reports to review, memos to draft, and emails to respond to. While she enjoyed her new position, it was a never-ending cycle of administrative tasks that demanded her attention. But today, with the office devoid of distractions, she saw an opportunity to dive in.

As Lauren sank into her plush chair waiting for the laptop to fire up, her mind wandered back to the events of the previous evening. The memory of how she and Griffin had treated Corey weighed on her. They had treated him like shit, and there was a part of her that felt a twinge of guilt, recognizing that they had subjected him to humiliation that may have been too much at times. Yet, there had been no indication from her husband that he wanted it to stop. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, finding pleasure in the degradation.

The words they had hurled, the insults that had spilled from their mouths like poison, replayed in her mind. They had been relentless, pushing the boundaries of scorn. It was as if they had tapped into a dark, sadistic side of themselves - the memory of those words echoing in her mind, each one a dagger of verbal abuse.

'It's like trying to fuck a wet noodle. I might as well be fucking a Ken doll.'

'Stop humping me like a faggot. FUCK ME, LOSER!'

'The neighbor's dog has a bigger dick.'

The vitriol of their words had been exhilarating to both of them. Corey, in turn, had willingly subjected himself to their taunts. And then he had actually licked Griffin's cum from her hand. Was he harboring deeper idiosyncrasies that she was unaware of? Had their exploration of humiliation awakened something within him? Regardless, there was something special about her husband participating in that which reconnected them in a meaningful way.

Lauren's fingers tapped impatiently on the desk as she waited for her laptop to finish booting. Finally, the login screen appeared, and she quickly entered her credentials. After a few moments, the desktop loaded, and she double-clicked on the spreadsheet icon. A large table filled with rows and columns of inventory numbers popped up, and she began meticulously comparing the figures, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cross-referenced the data against the physical inventory counts, making notes in the margins whenever she spotted a discrepancy. The monotonous work was tedious but necessary to ensure accuracy. After nearly an hour of poring over the spreadsheet, the familiar urge to pee began to creep into her consciousness. Saving her work Lauren stretched her stiff limbs before grabbing her purse and checking for eye drops. Tired and dry, her eyes needed a break.

Making her way through the quiet office to the executive washroom, she felt an eerie stillness. Almost too still.

+++++

Corey stood before the bathroom sink, his hands gripping the cold porcelain edge as he splashed his face with water. The cold liquid did little to quell the uncertainty that had been building inside of him since last night. He looked up at his reflection, hardly recognizing the weary-eyed, plump-faced man staring back at him. Lines etched his face and graying stubble added to his aged appearance, a stark contrast to the well-groomed man he had once been.

Where had the years gone? The couple had been so entrenched in Mainstreet, USA it wasn't even funny. They were little league soccer and softball coaches, PTA and church group leaders. There had been backyard cookouts and Friday night lights. Vanilla as fuck.

And now? With a mind still reeling from the previous night's events, Corey couldn't shake the image of his wife's naked body intertwined with that stranger's. The problem was, he wasn't so sure he wanted to go away. The sound of their moans and the sight of them writhing in pleasure still echoed between his ears - something that every cuckold files in the 'spank bank' for later.

And after enduring a fat cock slapping his forehead, Corey could still see Lauren's outstretched hand, the milky white semen floating in her palm, waiting. He had never been attracted to men and still wasn't. Yet, something about the depraved moment had stirred his audacious side, and he felt an inexplicable urge to lap at her fingers until the semen disappeared. Strangely, it wasn't the act itself that appealed to him, it was the participation of something with her, as opposed to just being a bystander. Indeed, earlier that morning, he had tried to clean his wife's locket, the one Griffin had so cruelly coated with his cum. Inside, the smiling wedding pictures of Lauren and Corey had all but been ruined. Still, they had been able to experience something together. And that's what counted.

Hot water blasting, Corey pulled the plastic handle of the razor across his cheek, large clumps of shaving cream dripping into the sink. At least he and Lauren would be able to spend the day with people who still thought they were a normal couple leading normal lives, unlike many of their friends and acquaintances who were aware of their secret. The relationship with his boss was a budding friendship, and it was important to him that Dale and his wife viewed him and Lauren as ordinary.

Conventional.

A day of fine art and no drama was something he was very much looking forward to.

+++++

Lauren adjusted her front-button sundress in the mirror, taking in the opulent surroundings of the posh restroom. The space was luxurious, with gleaming marble countertops, ornate gold-framed mirrors, and a crystal chandelier casting a warm, seductive glow over the plush brocade chairs nestled in the corner. It was a stark contrast to the utilitarian restrooms for the rest of the firm.

As Lauren exited, she caught sight of a figure near her office, the door swinging closed as if they were just leaving. Curious, she quickly wove through the rows of secretary desks until she recognized the man as Shane Carson, the networking guru.

Had there been wifi issues again?

Just as she came up behind him, he abruptly turned, causing her to collide with his solid frame. He instinctively grabbed both her forearms as surprise flickered across his face. It was rare to see any VP there on a Saturday.

"Why were you in there?" Lauren asked suspiciously. "I didn't submit a trouble ticket."

Shane's nerves were palpable as he tried to remain calm. Unbeknownst to Lauren, he had just planted tiny surveillance cameras in her office, a risky move that could easily be exposed with a thorough sweep if she called security. Faced with the threat of discovery, he decided to take a chance. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Shane pressed the hot executive up against the wall of the hallway. At this point, he had nothing to lose.

"What ARE you doing? LET ME GO!" Lauren demanded.

Fully aware of the security cameras dotting the entire building, Shane released his grip and motioned for her to follow him. Lauren scoffed, refusing.

"I'm not going anywhere, except to HR," she spat. "This is your last day at Rekrap."

"Really?" Shane laughed arrogantly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Pulling out his phone, he punched up an MP4 file and turned it towards her. As she watched herself on the small screen, her heart raced. It was the video of her fucking another resident of her apartment building in the sauna. The one Henry the concierge had secretly recorded.

'Do you want to fuck me, Luke?'

'Then do it, baby. Take me. FUCK ME NOW!

'Yes, yes, fuck that cunt! Do me! Do me!' 

The video played like something straight out of a porn film. She winced at the sight of herself ripping off the nerdy man's condom and squatting on the bench so he could shower her face and hair with weeks' worth of pent-up jizz.

Before she could react to the video, Shane brought up still photos of Alex eating her out on his boat, and the cowboy's hands kneading her breasts as he tongued her pink hole.

Lauren seethed at the violation of privacy. "You prick!"

The young man put a finger on her lips and pointed to the security cameras above them. Without another word, he took her hand and led her into a nearby utility closet labeled "Networking." Packed with servers and a workbench, it was cool inside, but did nothing to suppress the rage building in pretty brunette.

"What do you want?"

Shane smiled and brushed a strand of her long, straight black hair behind her ear, amused at how she flinched at his touch. All the hours he had spent watching from afar, masturbating to the salaciously taken photographs in the lunchroom and at company events. He hadn't planned to play this card so soon, but now here they were. "You know what I want."

Lauren's face became defiant. "Fuck off. I'm going to HR."

Holding up the phone, Shane shook his head. "I don't think so. You're one of the fresh faces of Rekrap. As much as the CEO likes your negotiation skills, there's no way he'll keep you on after this hits the internet."

"That's illegal."

Splat!

The IT specialist flinched at the thick glob of spit that landed on his cheek but calmly wiped it away. With a growl, he grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and spun her around, forcing her to face the cluttered workbench. His grip was firm, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he wrestled her into position. The rough fabric of his trousers pressed into the back of her dress, the thin material offering little barrier between them. The hardness of his cock straining against the zipper of his pants as he pressed himself against her.

"Maybe, but the damage will be done," Shane hissed, his hot breath ghosting against her ear. His grip on her tightened, pulling her back against him as he ground his hips against her.

"You'll go to jail."

"Oh yeah? Who's my lawyer going to depose first? The coworker you banged? The neighbor in the gym? The old fucker that gave me the video? Tex?"

"My husband..."

"The cuck?"

Lauren bristled. "Steve..."

"Yeah, Steve told me. Your husband is one sorry excuse for a man."

"And you're soooo much better."

"You're gonna find out."

Although Lauren was alarmed and disgusted, there was something about how he manhandled her, the raw dominance he had over her at that moment. Squirreled away in that tiny room, the steady hum of machinery masking their breathing, the bastard could have his way with her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Helpless. Trapped and entirely at his mercy. The mere thought sent a chill coursing through her spine... and an odd stirring in her moistening pussy.

"You wouldn't dare," Lauren growled, yelping as he used her hair to pull her face alongside his neck. Her face was flushed, eyes half-lidded. It was more of a taunt than a warning. A shiver ran through her as he suddenly licked her nose.

Shane's grip on the VP's arms was firm, holding her tight against him from behind. With a swift, forceful motion, he ripped the top half of her dress open, buttons scattering everywhere and exposing her small breasts encased in a black lace bra. She gasped, heart racing as she felt his hot, heavy breath on the back of her neck. Strong hands roamed over her body, caressing and kneading her, causing her to moan softly as wandering fingers teased her hardened nipples. Yet, even as Lauren knew she should push him away, she felt powerless to resist. A battle raged within - surrender to the temptation or stop what was clearly a crime.

"Please. You'll regret this."

"Tell me to stop," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Go on, tell me to stop."

Shane's fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up her arms, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel her nipples hardening, her body responding to his touch despite her lack of consent. His grip on Lauren's arms tightened as he took control, bending her over the metal workbench. The rough steel pressed against her chest, the coarse fabric of her bra's straps chafing her skin as dust bunnies clung to the once pristine lace.

"No," came the weak, barely audible protest.

"Not very convincing," he said, dismissing the feeble objection.

Suddenly, she felt him roughly hike her skirt, the chilled air of the room caressing her bare ass cheeks. The unmistakable sound of his zipper being dragged downward filled the tense silence. 

"NO!"

An inhuman howl of pain followed as Lauren's sharp heel dug into the top of Shane's foot. Quickly turning, she grabbed his groin through the now open fly and squeezed firmly.

"Go to hell!"

Gathering the front of her dress, Lauren pushed her way past the tech and bolted for the door. Running to the stairwell, she slipped off her heels and carried them down the stairs until reaching an emergency door that warned of alarms. Her heart was pounding as she burst through the metal barrier, the sound of the bells ringing in her ears. She stumbled out into a dimly lit service alley, the smell of dumpsters and stale air filling her nostrils. Barefoot and disheveled, heels clutched tightly in her hand, she let out a shaky sigh of relief. Save for a few trash bins, there was no sign of Shane.

Lauren hobbled towards a side street, replacing her heels as she went. A stray cab happened to be approaching so she waved it down, then slipped inside, choking back tears. Adjusting the rearview mirror, the driver asked for a destination and then saw her torn dress.

"You okay, miss?"

Lauren nodded. She was now.

"Where to?" he repeated.

Sitting alone in the back of the cab, Lauren sighed heavily as she weighed her options. Should she contact Rekrap Security? Not a good career move. Stephen Jones had warned her once about being discrete, and a film of her cheating on her husband with a neighbor in a sauna was anything but. The cops for attempted rape? No, Shane was right. With her behavior these days, a defense attorney would portray her as just another cheating whore wife on the prowl. He'd never be convicted.

She followed the driver's eyes to the unfastened dress. Half the buttons had been left scattered on the floor of the computer room. No way she could go home like that without Corey asking a thousand questions. Lauren needed new clothes, that was certain, but couldn't very well visit her usual shops, where she was well known. Her sanity was about to implode when other options emerged in her rattled mind. Pursing her lips, she took a deep, steadying breath, then looked back at the driver, her gaze filled with revenge.

"Target, then Balls of Fun, please."

+++++

Corey gazed into the full-length mirror that doubled as a sliding closet door. He smiled. He had recently picked up a new light gray linen blazer at one of Lauren's favorite boutique shops, and it fit perfectly. The emerald-green polo shirt beneath added a touch of pop, matching the off-white casual chinos.

Looking good, kid.

Tugging on the coat's sleeves and nodding at his reflection, Corey believed it was going to be a good day too. A day of normalcy, stability. A time for an average couple to do sensible things. No bedroom antics. No talk of unchaste kinks. Just an ordinary Saturday having lunch with his boss and wife. Perhaps he and Lauren could even become friends with them.

Friends.

Yeah, Corey could sure use some. Most of his were back in Des Moines, and pretty much everyone in Miami seemed to be either sleeping with Lauren or wanting to. And who knows where Zane, his old college buddy, had disappeared to since their move down here? He'd been in the wind ever since they relocated to Miami. They needed, as a couple, some wholesome, common friends who knew nothing of their current lifestyle. Friends much like Sean and Shelly had been - people who wouldn't eye them out the corner of their eye or make judgments behind their backs. Folks that would provide a more positive influence on their lives. Dale and Amanda Dactyl seemed to be just those sorts of companions.

+++++

Little Havana looked decidedly less foreboding in the daytime as Lauren stepped from the taxi and tried to peer into the smoked glass windows of the pool hall. Taking advantage of the reflection, she smoothed out the white long-sleeve blouse and denim skirt she'd bought at Target while leaving the tattered sundress and ripped bra behind in a trashcan. Pulling the Chanel's down over her eyes, she undid a couple of buttons and pushed open the door to Balls of Fun.

Inside, three Latino men were gathered around a pool table. Cigarettes dangled from their mouths as they held their cues. Balls were scattered on the cloth, but none seemed in a hurry to make a play. Their chatter stopped when Lauren came through the front, her ponytail bouncing behind her. This was an unusual sight, as not many white women frequented the place, and this one looked familiar.

With an air of confidence, she strode over to the one she knew as Juan. Her tiny, braless breasts jiggled beneath her white cotton top. Striking a confident pose, the now composed Iowan wife stood silently, one knee slightly bent, hands on her hips. Baffled by her unexpected entry, the men looked at each other, then back at Lauren with blank expressions. It was then that Hector recognized her.

"Iowa," he said, a flash of memory taking him back to bending her over Raul's Lincoln in that alley.

Juan remembered too, and leaned against the table, cue stick in hand. "Iowa, indeed. Didn't think we'd see you around here anymore, um..."

"Lauren."

"Right. Lauren." Juan craned his neck to see if anyone was on the sidewalk waiting for her. The last time she was here her husband had brought her. To whore her out, no less.

"So, Lauren, to what do we owe a visit from Bricknell?"

"I...I need a favor."

Mendo laughed. So did the others. "Your husband pimpin' you out again? You don't strike me as someone who needs money."

The diminutive executive bristled at that memory and shrugged it off. "No. I need someone to... leave me alone," she said, going on to tell them about Shane's attack.

Juan rubbed chalk on the cue's tip and tried to see past her dark sunglasses. "Rape is a serious crime. Why not the cops?"

Lauren said nothing.

"He has something on you, si? Needs an attitude adjustment, but on the quiet?"

The crack of the balls colliding as the striped seven sank into the side pocket caused Lauren to jump.

"If that's what you call it."

The Cuban paused as if mulling it over. "And if we agree to take care of your problem?"

"I can pay you," Lauren blurted out, a crack showing in her calm facade.

Juan's eyes went to the exposed skin between her breasts. Dark areolae pressed against the snow-white fabric, providing a lovely contrast. He reached out with the pool stick, extending it until the blue tip made contact, causing Lauren to shudder. She held her breath as the Latino used it to slowly move the material aside, exposing her right tit.

For an older puta, this broad was still tight in all the right places. Just like he remembered.

"Okay, casada puta, show how us what our time is worth."

Lauren's heart pounded in her chest as the hard tip of the stick gently grazed her sensitive nipple, leaving a blue mark on the raised bumps. Her chest rose and fell, body humming. Without missing a beat, she confidently sauntered towards a table at the back of the room, her luscious ass rocking up and down. Their eyes followed her, captivated.

With silent command, Lauren hopped up onto the table, her body perched on the edge, legs dangling temptingly. The room was quiet as the guys watched every move. Leaning back on her elbows, the ponytail fell onto the green cloth below. The leggy brunette spread her thighs wide, causing the hem of her denim skirt to ride up. A broad, mischievous smile graced her lips, eyes still hidden behind the oversized sunglasses. Truth be told, the whole encounter with Shane had turned her on a little.

"Who's first?"

The other men clearly deferred to Juan, who simply waved his hand. He was a good leader. "Mendo, take care of the lady."

Never one to be shy, the largest of the three stepped forward. A predator for most of his life, Mendo licked his lips when he caught sight of her wet panties. With a swift motion, he grabbed Lauren's ankles and yanked her to the edge of the table. She gasped at first, but never faltered, knowing full well what she'd signed up for by walking through that door.

Mendo's rough hands moved up Lauren's legs, pushing the denim skirt up to her waist. His fingers slid under the edge of her damp panties, teasing her swollen clit through the thin fabric. Pulling her panties to one side, the Cuban leaned over her, his body odor and the scent of onion burrito breakfast filling her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as he spread her legs wider, knowing that the end justified the means.

"¿Quieres la polla de Mendo, zorra?"

Lauren could only nod. She wasn't fluent in Spanish but knew polla had something to do with a dick. Mendo's greasy fingers moved to the buttons of the executive's blouse, popping them open one by one. His hands gripped the fabric and pulled it apart, revealing a smooth, tanned belly and taut abs. Muscles rippled as she breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Without warning, his lips were on her breasts, tongue darting out, feeling the whore's nipples hardening in his mouth. Lauren moaned, her back arching off the table as the Latino sucked and teased her nipples. She reached down, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled him closer.

"Do it," the black-haired vixen demanded, nose-to-nose with the man.

A loud moan bubbled up from her throat when he unfastened his cargo shorts and took his cock out. The sight of the veiny appendage caused Lauren to find her voice of reason, whatever was left of it.

"Ca...ca...ca-dum."

Hector rolled his eyes, but the men were used to hookers requiring protection. He reached into his worn wallet, pulling out a couple of condom packets. Lauren eyed the dog-eared package warily as he handed it to his friend. She didn't even want to know the expiration date.

Mendo tore the thin foil away and rolled the synthetic sheath down his throbbing cock. Smirking, he planted his hands on the pool tablecloth on either side of Lauren's petite waist and pushed the head of his dick against her bald, slick pussy lips.

There was a moment of resistance, and then it yielded, allowing him to slide inside her warm, wet tunnel. As he inched forward, he could feel the heat of her pussy enveloping him, the soft folds of her labia clutching at his cock.

"Fah-uckkkkkkk," Mendo hissed as his balls hit her taint, eyes closed. He set the pace quickly, hips snapping as he drove his junk deep into her.

Pool stick still in hand, Juan clucked. "Hell yeah, Mendo! Show her who's boss!"

Mendo's grip tightened on Lauren's hips, squeezing them hard as he pounded into her with all his might. Her legs spread wide in the air, giving the others a clear view of her bald, dripping pussy and every inch of the pulsating shaft as it sank deep. Mendo drove into her with a brutal, uncaring force, causing the slate to creak under their combined weight. The sting of his balls slapping against her ass was only surpassed by the pain of his pinching grip. These marks would surely need to be explained to Corey later. With her back on the table, ponytail curled around her head, Lauren's tits bounced and jiggled as she desperately fucked the Latino, trying to make him cum. The sooner the men came, the sooner she could get on with her day. With clenched tunnel muscles, the stretched clam closed tightly, trying to coax the imminent release.

"Fuck meeeeeee!" Lauren cried out, her voice hoarse but focused, remembering Amy's advice on the importance of a woman's words. "Cum in my nasty pussy, fill me up with your hot, Havana spunk!"

Mendo began groaning, his hips pistoning in and out of the puta's sopping wet cunt. He grabbed her tits, squeezing and kneading them as he fucked her.

"Take it, whore! Take my cock!" he growled, eyes wild with dominance.

"Cum for me, cum in my pussy!" she rasped, her voice barely audible. "Fuck it like the beast you are."

The Cuban's cock erupted like a volcano, his hot load filling the condom in a matter of seconds. He growled as he emptied himself inside the rubber, body shaking. Pulling out with a satisfied grunt, the shiny latex glistened with Lauren's juices. Mendo gripped it by the base and ripped it off with a sloppy sound, tossing it to the floor.

Back on the table, Lauren's pussy was still clenching and unclenching as if gasping for air. Hector wasted no time stepping up, pants around his ankles, rubber already in place. He didn't ask permission as he took Mendo's place, mounting the slut quickly and plunging his cock deep into the cute brunette. She screamed in pain and pleasure as the swarthy figure began to pump, his hips slapping thighs as he fucked her with no regret. Regardless of her status, this was just another whore in his eyes.

The cock was longer than the previous, occasionally touching her cervix. Stretched to its limits, Lauren's walls clung tightly to the shaft, milking the Cuban to orgasm. Soon, the bizarre second installment of Shane's upcoming attitude adjustment was paid by way of hippo grunts as Hector spilled his Latin heritage into the condom's reservoir.

"Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn," was all he could utter as he stumbled away to accept a lit cigarette from his friend. "That was caliente!"

There was a moment of quiet as Lauren caught her breath and Mendo and Hector shared the smoke. They watched with smirks on their faces as Juan approached her, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well, Iowa, some things never change, do they?"

Lauren lay on the plush pool table, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her blouse was now hanging off her shoulders, exposing her heaving chest and erect nipples, which were as hard as diamonds. Her thighs remained splayed open, still glistening with the juices that the two men had cultivated from her willing womb. She couldn't speak, taking short gasps as an overwhelming feeling washed over her.

"I think she liked it," he chuckled, looking over at his friends, who nodded back. "Still a filthy slut, that's for sure."

Juan leaned over Lauren and whispered, "I think it's time for round three, don't you?"

Hector frowned at his buddy. "Rubbers are gone, ese."

Smirking, Juan glanced sideways at his buddy, then locked eyes with the kinky wench lying in front of him. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the pool stick, catching the handle in his hand. Lauren pushed her sunglasses up and stared at the cue skeptically.

"No need, ese," Juan grinned. "No need."

+++++

Amy Rosinner answered her phone without even looking. "Yell-low?"

She had been sitting on the floor of her townhome painting her toenails, just managing to punch the answer icon that appeared on the screen.

"Is this Amy?"

The blonde legal secretary stopped painting and looked closer at who was calling. Just a number.

"Maybe. Who's this?"

"Zane Picardo. Corey's friend. We met a while back."

Amy remembered. Older guy, still in good shape for someone in their late fifties. Great in bed. Well, at least according to her best friend and coworker Lauren. The twenty-six-year-old's eyes darted back and forth. Why is he calling?

"Yeah, um, hi."

"Listen, I know we don't know each other very well, but, eh, I really enjoyed talking to you at dinner and was wondering if you'd like to go get a beer or something?"

Oh my God, the old dude is asking me out!

"I...um...I liked talking to you too. Sure... I guess. When?"

"Now?"

Amy thought hard. It was a rare Saturday that she didn't have plans, but this was one of them.

"Okay, where?"

"Got me there. No clue. Your town, you pick."

"Do you know where Miramar is?"

"The GPS does."

"Hal's Bar and Grill on the Parkway. I think they open at noon. We can grab some lunch."

Zane sounded genuinely happy, like his high school crush had just agreed to go out with him. "Great, great, see you then."

Hanging up, the striking young lady paused and smiled, remembering the biker's rugged but handsome face and broad shoulders. Cute, no doubt, and if memory served her right, had a personality that made conversation easy and light. Shrugging, she went back to painting her nails.

It was a long time before that grin left her face.

+++++

Lauren trembled as Juan wiped the pool stick handle with a disinfectant hand towel from a housekeeping cart, then dragged it down the middle of her chest. Nudging one nipple with the rubber bumper on the end, then the other, she arched her back as sparks of electricity shot out to her extremities. Juan watched the swell of her tits rise and fall with each breath. He moved the stick down her body, stopping just above her navel.

"Have you ever played billiards, Iowa?"

She gasped as he pushed on her belly button.

Juan studied the wrap around the grip, balancing it in his hand. "You see, the secret is not to grip too tight. Gotta be relaxed, si?"

Lauren nodded, figuring the best thing she could do at that point was to agree. Another gasp as he used the handle to lift the front of her skirt. The Latino moved to get a good look at her white cotton panties. In the absence of a penis, they had sprung back into place.

"Another postura."

Juan adjusted his footing as he placed the fat end of the cue alongside the soaked underwear.

"You see, the way you stand affects the way you shoot the ball."

Gingerly, he used the stick to brush aside the material, revealing Lauren's well-fucked slit, red and swollen.

"Important too is understanding the angles."

Lauren quivered as Juan lowered the rubber bumper onto the hood of her clit. 

"Oh, Gawwwd."

He smiled again, lingering on her hardening button.

"And then, perhaps most critical, is a good rack and break."

The pretty Rekrap vice-president moaned as the stick traced her outer lips.

"Very important..."

Juan used the handle to gently but firmly probe the hungry gash, the grip becoming saturated with clear and viscous juices.

"Would you like me to demonstrate the break, puta?"

Lauren froze. Although Hector and Mendo had brought her to the brink, they had not sent her over. And yet, this was not a sex toy, it was a pool stick for God's sake. She couldn't help but think of Corey, who was undoubtedly sitting at home, blissfully unaware of the depravity his wife was in the middle of.

As Juan began to move the stick in and out of her, Lauren's eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was vaguely aware of the cheers and catcalls of the other men, but she was too far gone to care. All that mattered was the feel of the probing cue, teasing her puffy labia.

"Do it."

The Cuban's grin widened. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the handle and watched the first couple of inches disappear into the gaping pink hole. Her entire body quaked as her brain tried to process what was happening. Two more inches, then three.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" Lauren brayed, hips bucking up to meet the invading object.

Juan began to move the handle in and out of the wanton wife, each push eliciting a deep, guttural moan. He could feel the resistance as her pussy clenched around the simulated woodgrain, unwittingly trying to milk it for semen that would never come.

"Cum for me, you filthy slut."

Lauren's tiny tits jiggled with every thrust of Juan's hand, adding to the strain against his trousers. She was beyond caring about how degrading it was to be fucked with a pool stick in front of an audience. She just needed to cum... and badly.

As a good five inches of the pool stick repeatedly disappeared into her butterfly, a thin coat of white glaze began forming on the grip.

"YOU GODDAMN BASTARDSSSSSS!"

Lauren's orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing and shaking as if she were being shocked by a thousand stun guns. Bolting straight up, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth opened wide to utter a guttural scream that tore itself from her throat into an unnatural, horror movie bellow. Her thighs clamped down on the stick like she was trying to crush it to dust, and her hips bucked and rolled, moving in time with the unseen rhythm. Suddenly, copious fluids squirted from her urethra, flooding the side rail cloth and everything beneath it. She collapsed on the table, back on the cloth, muscles relaxing. The stick fell from her pussy and clattered to the floor.

The Cubans hooted with laughter as Juan unzipped his jeans and clambered onto the table. Planting one foot on either side of her chest, just below the armpits, he pulled out his cock and began stroking. Lauren slowly opened her eyes, blinking as she tried to focus on the figure standing over her. Her vision was still a little blurry from her intense orgasm, but she could make out the shape of the Latino's body, standing tall above her.

"Dirty little cumslut gotta come to the ghetto to find a real man, huh? Someone to defend your honor? Where's that marido tuyo? Hiding behind his polo cologne?"

Lauren gazed up at Juan's figure towering above her, light from the low-hanging fixture above the table in her eyes. She could just make out the large cock sticking out from the fly of his trousers, his hand sliding up and down it as talked down to her. Small dollops of precum were flung onto her face as soon as it formed.

"A spoiled princess who thinks she can have whatever she wants. What is it you want, puta? Tell Juan."

"Yes, I want it. I want your cum."

"Say it louder."

Propping herself on her elbows, Lauren's lips curled into a sultry smile. "I WANT YOUR CUM!"

Juan grunted and nearly lost his balance.

"C'mon baby," she whined, "let me see it. Pleeease give me your spunk."

"Do it, ese, paint that cunt," Hector egged his friend on.

That made Juan bear down even harder, his face contorting into a sneer, gaze fixed on Lauren's bare chest, her blouse fluttering to the side. The droplets of precum that had dripped onto her little titties were now starting to run down her side, creating a slick, glistening trail along her skin. He could see the way her stomach muscles contracted, the tight abs forming ridges as she continued to stare up at him with her best come-on-me expression.

"¡Oh, mierda, perra, puta!"

"Let it go, baby, don't hold back," Lauren begged. "Right here, put it right here." She opened her mouth wide and wagged her tongue.

¡Mierda, mierda, me voy a correr!

And cum he did. Rope after rope of hot, sticky jizz spewed from his glans, landing on Lauren's face, neck and chest with a satisfying splatter. Some of it landed in her mouth which she proudly displayed as he squeezed the remnants from his deflating cock.

Hector and Mendo cheered and punched each other on the arm as Juan hopped down from the table and zipped up. He threw a small hand towel to Lauren to clean up.

"Name and address," Juan asked, lighting a cigarette, walking behind a bar and grabbing a bottle of whiskey. "You little problem. He'll never bother you again. I guarantee it."

+++++

Zane rose from the booth as Amy strolled into Hal's B&G just shy of noon. The ex-mechanic's sabbatical had taken him far from home. With nowhere else to go, he had gotten to the restaurant early.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Younger than half his age, Amy had long, slender legs that seemed to go on for days. Her hair cascaded in lush, blonde ringlet curls, the dark shadow roots giving it a stylishly undone look. She wore a white crop top with the Miami Heat logo, showcasing her toned midriff, paired with yellow shortall overalls that accentuated her slim figure. The woman radiated California cool with a touch of Gold Coast flair.

Amy flopped down on the bench seat across the table from the biker and smiled broadly.

"Hey ya."

She gave him a once over. Typical rider. Rugged appearance with a square jaw. Nice salt and pepper hair, clean but unkempt. He wore a well-worn leather vest over a faded concert tee from a just as faded rock band, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered in intricate tattoos. His boot-cut jeans were slightly scuffed and tucked into a sturdy pair of motorcycle boots. She guessed he was still out-of-doors, carrying with him whatever fit in the saddle bags on his bike as he wandered Florida. Yet, despite his weathered look, she remembered a warmth and kindness about him from before. Seasoned, but optimistic.

"Find yourself yet?" she asked while ordering a strawberry daiquiri from a waitress who blew by.

Zane grinned and pointed to his face. "Nothing but those damn love bugs. Ate plenty over the last month."

"You enjoy riding, huh?"

"Best thing about life. Just me and Bessy."

"Your Harley?"

"Yeah."

Amy fought back a smile. That he had a name for his bike was charming.

"When are you going back to Iowa?"

"Nothing to go back to."

"Job?"

Zane shook his head.

"House?"

He scoffed. "Place is a dump. No note on it though, so free and clear. Just taxes and upkeep."

"A sweetheart?"

That got a laugh. "She got my dog and truck. She ain't no sweetheart."

"I see."

The two sat gazing at each other in silence. There was a palpable mutual attraction, even though their age difference was stark.

"How 'bout you?" Zane asked, taking a swig of brew.

"No dog, no truck."

They both laughed out loud as the waitress brought Amy's cocktail, the necks of the glasses clinking together with a satisfactory ring.

+++++

Corey turned up the A/C in the new Audi A6 and sank back into its cool leather seats. Since his new lead project manager role would involve a great deal of travel around Florida, Dale had insisted he pick out a comfortable company car. The vehicle was clean, and sleek, with plenty of that fresh, new car smell.

Stealing a glance at his wife sitting in the passenger seat, Corey extended his right arm and held out his hand, resting it on the center console. Lauren smiled and looked down, intertwining their fingers.

The afternoon had started oddly - Lauren had come home after an air conditioning issue at Rekrap headquarters left her dress in need of dry cleaning. But now, fresh as a daisy, she sat beside him in stylish khaki pants and a chiffon blouse, ready to impress his boss and wife.

Corey really hoped they would like her. It was just the beginning of some sense of normalcy and stability he aimed to provide in their marriage.

Entering the parking lot of the Atlantic Artisan Gallery, he coasted the sedan to the valet station and stopped. Handing the valet driver the keys with a friendly smile, Corey bounded around the rear of the car to open the passenger door, offering Lauren his hand. She grinned at his boyish enthusiasm and the pep in his step, unable to recall the last time he had looked so happy.

Arm-in-arm, the pair ascended the marble steps and entered the main lobby of the gallery. The grand, open space was adorned with elegant chandeliers and vibrant artwork lining the walls.

As they stepped into the next hall, Corey's eyes landed on a tall easel bearing a sign: "The Benoit Moreau Collection".

"That's their friend!" he exclaimed excitedly, giving Lauren's arm an eager squeeze.

She allowed her husband to lead, his head bobbing and weaving as he scanned the room for any sign of his boss. Corey was clearly overjoyed to finally be introducing his gorgeous wife to a couple that represented what their life in Florida could be like in the years ahead.

The wound-up Iowan's eyes lit up as he spotted his boss.

"There he is," he said, gently tugging Lauren's hand.

She rolled her eyes as he practically dragged her through the hall, her legs moving quickly to keep up. He seemed to be making a beeline towards a middle-aged man with sandy hair standing next to a plump woman. Facing an exhibit, the couple was engaged in a lively conversation with another.

"Dale!" Corey bubbled fervently before he even reached them.

The couple broke from their discussion and turned.

"Corey, my boy!" Dale beamed, stepping forward to warmly shake his employee's hand. "So glad you could make it."

Still smiling, he and his portly companion looked at Lauren and froze, the cheer instantly leaving their expressions. Corey's grin began to fade too as he noticed the color in his own wife's face draining away.

"Meadow?" the regal-looking woman asked, slack-jawed.

"Lucy? Ricky?" Lauren stared at them incredulously.

"Oh, fuck," Dale sputtered, nearly dropping his drink.

"No, silly," Corey chuckled nervously, trying to set things straight. "It's Dale and Amanda. Guys, this is my wife, Lauren."

Something drew his eyes to the wine glass in the woman's hand, then to her wrist. Just below the palm was an intricate tattoo of an eagle in flight, holding an olive branch in its beak.

A faint memory, like a whisper in the wind, came to him. 'She had the cutest little eagle tattooed on the inside of her wrist...it's amazing what they can do with ink these days.'

Corey began backing away from the three, nearly knocking over a passerby. "No."

He began to sway, his complexion getting pasty. "NO! NO! NO!"

"Babe, stop," Lauren reached out to steady him. "You don't look so good..."

"IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY!"

Suddenly, the world around the stunned wittol began to spin. His heart raced as a cold dread gripped him, constricting his chest. The voices of the others faded to a distant murmur, drowned out by the pounding of his pulse. He felt unsteady, as if his legs might give out beneath him at any moment. Panic surged through his body. "Please, no," he repeated, the words coming out as a faint, strangled mumble.

Seconds later, Corey's vision blurred, the edges of his sight growing dark. Everything was slipping away, fading into an abyss of confusion and disbelief. As his knees buckled, he could vaguely make out Lauren's concerned face, her voice calling out to him, but the words were indistinct, muffled.

And then, the world went dark.

+++++

Three drinks each later, Zane and Amy had fallen into an easy back-and-forth, trading stories about their respective lives and experiences. As an Iowa native who had spent most of his adult life roaming the open roads on his beloved Harley, he was fascinated to learn that Amy had lived in Miami her entire life.

"So, what's the appeal of this town?"

The native Floridian's face lit up as she described the party scene that defined much of her social life. She spoke enthusiastically about the endless array of clubs, bars, and music venues that were open around the clock.

Zane nodded. "I hear Lauren has acclimated herself just fine."

Amy plucked a strawberry from her glass and sucked on it while studying the biker's face.

"You've fucked her, huh?"

Zane choked on his beer and grinned. "Are you, um, always this direct?"

The blonde shrugged. "Life's too short not to be."  She brushed loose bangs from her blue eyes. "Besides, so have I."

The ex-mechanic was about to say something when Amy's phone rang. Looking down at the table she saw a familiar face and tapped the speaker phone.

"Hi sweetie, I was just sitting here having a drink with an old friend of yours."

The sobs immediately wiped the smiles from their faces. "Oh my God, Amy, oh my God!"

"Lauren, calm down. What is it?"

"It's Corey. He collapsed. He just fucking collapsed!"

+++++

Blue and red lights from the Miami-Dade Fire Rescue vehicle bathed the surrounding buildings outside the gallery in an eerie glow. Lauren stood wringing her hands, huddled with Dale and Amanda, as the first responders worked on Corey in their truck.

"I swear I didn't know," Dale shook his head vigorously, gathering Lauren into his arms. "You have to believe me."

"He never showed us a picture of you, dear," Amanda tried to console the younger woman, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I believe you," Lauren sniffled, trying to peer into the back of the ambulance. "Oh my God, what must he think? He must be in shock."

"Nobody could have seen that coming," Dale offered. "Nobody. Look, I'll make sure he gets the best medical care in the county. I promise you that."

"We'll all pray for him, sweetie," his wife smiled kindly.

One of the paramedics hopped down from the rescue truck and began asking questions of the crowd that had gathered, then approached the threesome.

"Hi there, you're Mr. Miller's wife?"

Lauren wiped her eyes and nodded.

"Is his sister with you?"

"Doesn't have one."

"Aunt? Cousin?"

"No, why?"

The medic looked down at his chart. "Well, he's not very coherent right now, but he keeps asking for someone."

Lauren glanced back at Dale and Amanda with a bewildered look, then tried to read the chart. "Who?"

"Not real sure, but it sounded like...Jezebel?"

+++++

[hongtea]

:-O

Figured Dale Dactyl and his wife were the couple from the cruise but didn’t think this would lead Corey to be hospitalized. Is this a sign that the end is near?

Looks like Shane is dealt with and doesn’t seem like he’ll be a problem… Or will he? Also curious to see where Amy and Zane go.