Ascending Lauren Ch. 06
The sun faded over the western Iowa skies as Corey Miller pitched his laptop bag onto the passenger seat of his pickup truck. Sliding behind the wheel, he surveyed the former abandoned cornfield which his construction firm had transformed into a sprawling healthcare facility with 500 beds and medical offices. It took two years and came at a price tag of $150 million, but as far as he was concerned, the real cost had been the five months - and counting - spent apart from his wife of 28 years. Thankfully, the ribbon cutting ceremony was scheduled for mid-February, signaling the end of major construction. He could then turn in his resignation, leave the company in good graces, and join Lauren in Miami. Unfortunately, since it was only early October, he would be handcuffed to Iowa for at least another four months.
Driving passed the chain-link construction fences, Corey waved at Jerry and Dan, two other project managers on the job. He smiled. If only they had known the dark role they played in he and his wife’s love making recently, brought up by none other than Lauren herself. A tall tale to be sure, told from her point of view about an encounter with his coworkers in the construction trailer, which ultimately resulted in them unloading semen onto her face. Pure fiction, of course, but hot, nonetheless.
The 45-minute drive to the suburbs gave the 61-year-old a chance to reflect on his wife and their relationship. In the five months since Lauren had relocated to South Florida for her new job, he had witnessed the low key, demure, and nearly frigid 48-year-old Midwestern mother change into a dynamic sexual creature who was slowly embracing some of the eccentricities that he himself had fantasized about for years. For some time now he'd been pushing her to dress more provocatively, be a flirt, and more recently, be promiscuous. In the last couple months, she had checked all three boxes. In addition, she seemed to have developed her own idiosyncrasies, ranging from a newfound fondness of facials and over-the-top filthy talk while in the throes of passion. What used to be a few whimpers had graduated into a steady stream of fuck me, fuck you, fuck everything! Sometimes contrived, sometimes self-deprecating, but always, always a turn on.
Admittedly, Corey had played a major part in this transformation and much of her new behavior was a product of his own doing. Beginning years ago, he had promoted the notion of sharing her by way of manufactured tall tales while nestled safely in their marital bed behind closed doors. Lauren had always enjoyed the imaginary lovers to some extent, having an orgasm at the thought of others taking her roughly during the precious few times they did make love. It was a concept they both understood to be pure fantasy and it seemed destined to stay that way. Alas, an early menopause and Corey's expanding waistline and diminished stamina as he aged had significantly decreased his wife's libido. Until her recent move, that is.
Now, she had grown emboldened, triggered not by his persistence alone, but an inner force he could not quite put his finger on. It was as if something had awakened; a sexuality that had laid dormant, just below the surface. Perhaps she had suppressed it once they were married or maybe it had never surfaced before at all. It was hard to tell. During Lauren's recent tryst with the neighbor boy, she had uttered some nonsense about her pulling train in an old boyfriend's fraternity house. Whether there was any truth in that or if she was just being "in character" feeding Corey's kink, he did not know. Nor had he pursued it. Yet, it was clear he had poked a tiger, and since coming to Miami, it appeared the tiger had been inspired. At times he beat himself up over the perpetual cajoling. Husbands weren't supposed to encourage their wives to have sex with others. At least that’s what mainstream society claimed. He told himself it was for altruistic reasons - for her sexual fulfillment and happiness - but that would not be completely honest either. No, he had enough self-awareness to know it was the damn compersion he craved, the feeling he experienced when witnessing or even thinking of Lauren with another. Yes, it was kinky, perverse, and even depraved, but God help him, he loved it so.
The flash of a sign signaling the post office ahead caught Corey's eye. Crap, almost missed it! He slowed the old pickup truck and guided it into the parking lot. Grabbing a small plainly wrapped box from the middle console, he jumped down and approached the night drop. His hand shook slightly as he pulled opened the drawer and placed the tiny package on the tray. Hesitating longer than he should have, he allowed the lid to close, listening to the parcel drop into the void. He looked up at the rosy twilight sky and sighed. It was going to be another lonely night.
+++++
Lauren walked into the lobby of her apartment building and bent over, hands on knees and slightly wheezing. Out of breath from a long early evening power walk, she walked aimlessly around the white marble floor as she willed her body to cool down. Miami in October could still be quite warm and this day was no exception. She had to remind herself she was not a young chick anymore.
An older bespectacled gentleman working the concierge desk looked at her appreciatively. One of the perks of the job was being able to observe female residents come and go, all under the pretense of keeping an eye on them for their safety. His eyes drank in her tight black bike shorts and pink sports bra. Small firm ass and tiny tits. The apartment building was not lacking for pretty woman, but this one was exemplary. Older, but more in shape than most.
"Good evening, Mrs. Miller. You have a package waiting. Would you like to pick it up now?" he asked, maintaining an air of professionalism.
Lauren nodded as she approached the desk, taking a long sip of water. The man handed her the package, discreetly glancing at the tiny nipples hardening from the cool air blowing from the floor vents. "Thank you, Harvey," she replied, closing her hand around the small box, noting the familiar handwriting on the brown paper wrapper.
The attendant watched the perfect buttocks shift up and down beneath clingy polyester as their owner sauntered to the elevators. He was acutely aware the woman's husband only visited from time to time and was not yet a permanent resident. That was risky. Leaving a fine piece of ass like that alone in a sinful city like Miami was only asking for trouble.
+++++
Lauren entered her 23rd floor apartment with only two things in mind: a hot shower and a good meal. Looking down at the package, she noticed it was postmarked three days ago from Des Moines. Sweet Corey. He was forever sending her little things for the apartment; a candle here, a knickknack there. Unfortunately, this one would have to wait. Plopping the box on the kitchen island, she stripped off her sweaty clothes and jumped under the steady stream of warm water. It was Friday night, and she was in a good mood. Her taste buds had been tantalized for weeks by the aroma of a new Italian restaurant around the corner and tonight she was set on some good pasta.
After showering, the 48-year-old donned a long sleeve, red satin scoop-neck dress and simple two-inch high heels. It was of modest length, stopping mid-thigh, but clingy enough to highlight her curves and small chest. Classy without being over-the-top.
Meandering into the kitchen, Lauren picked up the nondescript package from the kitchen counter and unwrapped it. Inside was a small white jewelry box held together by a blue ribbon. This immediately piqued her curiosity. She could count on one hand the number of times Corey had given her unsolicited jewelry. Carefully wiggling off the top, she peeled away the fluffy white cotton to reveal a short gold chain nestled within. It was too short to be a necklace. A bracelet perhaps?
Lifting it from the box with an index finger, she peered at it quizzically. It had a rather sturdy clasp and two small letter pendants hanging in the middle: "H" and "W". Lauren stared at the chain with a blank look. What the heck? Those were definitely NOT her initials. Moments later a faint recollection crept in. During her research into understanding Corey's hotwife kink, she recalled that some women wear an anklet as a way of sending a subtle message to potential partners that they are available and have the consent of their husbands to "mingle".
"I'll be damned," Lauren shook her head, grinning. He's getting bolder, I'll give him that.
+++++
Corey was huddled over a barbecue grill in his backyard nursing a t-bone steak to perfection when the video app on his phone rang. His face lit up at the sight of his lovely wife.
"Hi babe. TGIF! Hope they took it easy on you this week," he said cheerfully. He too was in a good mood. "Wow, you're dressed nice. What's the occasion?"
"Going to the new Italian place down the street. Looking forward to a good meal without cooking for a change."
"Alone? I mean the dress and all."
"Yes, alone," Lauren replied. Narrowing her eyes, she held up the anklet. "Unless you had other plans for me."
"Ah, yes," Corey tittered. "So, you got it. What do you think? Do you like it?"
"High-quality gold. You have good taste."
"Nothing but the best for you."
A few moments of silence followed.
"You know this is a clear invitation for men to hit on me," Lauren stated flatly. Then, remembering her commitment to helping him evolve his fetish, she added softly, "I'm assuming that is what you want."
"All I want is for you to be satisfied."
"You are so full of shit," Lauren snorted, twisting the chain around her fingers. She watched quietly as he sprinkled some spices on the meat. After a minute, she spoke up. What the hell, she was in a funky mood.
"Would you like me to wear it tonight? I'm not convinced anything will come of it, but maybe some Italian stallion will take notice."
Corey looked back towards the screen and raised his eyebrows. " Really? I wasn't sure you would."
"You sent it just to sit in a jewelry box?"
"I...I guess not," Corey gulped. "I sent it because it was hot picturing you in a bar, the anklet advertising your availability, men trying to pick you up..."
"You mean, like a ******," she pondered, "except the milk's free."
"Um, well, now that you put it that way..." Corey stammered. He was losing this one. "Just forget it, babe. I thought you might find it hot too. I can send it back. No harm, no foul."
Lauren deliberated her response. He clearly intended for her to wear the gift with hopes for a specific outcome. She was willing to indulge some of his fantasies - after all, she derived pleasure from them as well - but was this taking things too far? Still with few friends in the area, any man approaching her in Miami would more than likely be a stranger. That posed a danger in itself these days. Still, she wanted to satiate Corey's needs, let it swim around in his perverted brain. What's the chances of a single man at an upscale restaurant hitting on her, much less one recognizing the anklet's significance? Besides, it might be a naughty thrill.
"No need to return it," Lauren cooed as she bent over to secure the chain around her ankle. A photo of his wife's tanned foot appeared on Corey's screen. The shiny gold anklet lay beautifully against the smooth skin. "You seem to forget that while this started as your kink, I'm the one that engineered the rendezvous with Max and Tommy. Let's see if anyone notices, shall we?"
Corey groaned at the thought. There was no doubt in his mind someone would. His cock twitched its involuntary approval.
+++++
Harvey's eyes followed the slim beauty through the lobby as she walked towards the revolving door leading to the driveway. The tight ruby red dress complemented the straight jet-black hair flowing to the middle of her back, a hint of gold flashing from an ankle chain as she passed underneath the bright lights. He grinned. Classy outfit or sweaty workout clothes, this woman always looked dialed in.
The Italian restaurant was just a few steps around the corner from the apartment building. Its foyer was adjacent to an ornate hotel and hungry patrons crowded in to await a coveted table. New restaurants were always difficult to get into, so Lauren was thankful she had the presence of mind to make a reservation the previous week. The maître d' welcomed her with a warm smile and invited her to wait for her table in the restaurant's bar which was located in the hotel lobby. Knowing she was about 30 minutes early, she did not protest and instead carefully walked up the stairs towards the bar. The dress was comfortable but tight and did not allow for much leg room. In fact, she had difficulty lifting her butt into place on the bar stool, much to the amusement of the bartender. He seemed to take much delight in watching the hemline rise on her thighs as she crossed her toned legs.
"What can I get you, Miss?"
"A dry martini please, and two more inches on my heels," Lauren quipped as she surveyed the lobby. An opulent four-star hotel, it was housed within an older building which the owners had tried to preserve. Being a Friday, most businessmen had checked out hours ago, and now the majority of the guests were families looking to blow off steam over the weekend. Downing the drink - a bit more rapidly than she should - the shiny gold chain around her ankle became a source of self-awareness. In Lauren's mind it was a billboard announcing, "slut wife here", but in reality, it was barely noticeable. As the alcohol began to calm her nerves, she realized it would be a stretch for anyone in such an upscale place to recognize the anklet's significance, if they noticed it at all. Part of her just wanted to eat and go back to her apartment to veg. Yet, deep inside, she felt Kuhimo tugging at her libido, excited at the possibility of connecting.
It didn't seem there was much chance of that at the moment. Those waiting in the bar were mostly couples. The few men that were by themselves sat at the rail fiddling with their phones, lost in their 3-by-5 virtual worlds. A hostess from the restaurant eventually came up the stairs, giving her a glimmer of hope that a table was ready. This was dashed when another name was called. She looked for the bartender and waved for another drink.
Predictably, a beautiful woman in a form-fitting dress alone in a bar on a Friday night is bound to be noticed. Over the next 25 minutes, several men - who were ostensibly just passing through - tried to strike up conversations, but once they noticed the wedding ring, the banter ended, and they moved on. Either they had not noticed the anklet, were ******* of its meaning, or were simply scared off.
Lauren continued to sip the martini. Her reservation time had just passed. Succumbing to the boredom, she began surfing various shopping sites on her phone while quietly bopping her head to the piped in sounds of 80's music. She was completely immersed in the review of some designer shoes when a nearby voice startled her.
"That was a crazy decade for music, wasn't it?"
Looking up from her phone, she discovered the voice belonged to a very distinguished looking gentlemen about her age.
"What was that?"
"The 80's," the man said, sliding onto the stool beside her. "It had everything. Punk rock, new wave, hair bands, the beginning of grunge."
"I suppose so," Lauren replied, pushing the bangs from her eyes to get a better look at the stranger. He had a distinct accent. English? Australian? Whatever the nationality, he was certainly well put together. Good complexion, meticulously coifed hair and nails, expensive collarless shirt and slacks. Not particularly buff, but not soft either. All around, very charming with a kind face.
"I'm Ethan," he offered, holding out his hand. "Just in from the U.K. on business next week."
Her fingers disappeared into his grasp as they shook. He had the most intense color of blue eyes she had ever seen.
"Lauren. Just in from around the corner. And still waiting for a table."
He ordered a bourbon and politely asked if another drink would do. A nod of her pretty head told him two things: she was still thirsty, and she was open to conversation. A good start.
"Lovely name. Although I would have guessed Hell on Wheels."
"Sorry?"
Ethan pointed at her ankle. "HW?"
Lauren coughed as she wiped some of the martini from her chin. So much for no one noticing.
"Um, a gift from my husband."
"I see," the Englishman replied. "Funny, you'd think he'd know your name by now."
That got a sly smirk from the pretty face. Excellent, he thought. After traveling the world for 25 years he knew all too well what the anklet likely signified. But one had to be careful not to offend. If wrong, it could mean a drink in the face. If correct, many such women were skittish to begin with and demanded discreetness. Some needed the right amount of coaxing.
"Between that chain and the size of the diamond on your finger, he must love you very much."
Lauren looked down at her wedding ring and fiddled with the band.
"Yes, he does."
"Good. A solid marriage is an important institution."
That was certainly an interesting statement, Lauren thought. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not hitting on her at all.
From there, the pair launched into a lengthy but pleasant conversation ranging from favorite 80's bands to how life in Britain differed from that in the United States. Lauren hung on the man's every word, smitten by his good looks, accent, and stately presence. She had completely forgotten about dinner. Then the unthinkable happened. Her stomach growled. LOUDLY, ending with a fading whine, like a cat dying a terrible death.
Ethan laughed. "Hungry, are we? How long have you been waiting?"
Covering her mouth in embarrassment, Lauren looked sheepishly at her phone. "Now almost 20 minutes past my reservation." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the hostess heading back towards the bar. "Maybe that's me now."
But it was not to be. The woman motioned to another couple, who quickly gathered their belongings and followed. As the trio passed by and disappeared into the restaurant, Ethan slipped in behind them. Lauren sighed. Buh-bye, blue eyes she thought to herself, taking another sip.
Two minutes later, the dapper Englishman bounded back up the stairs into the hotel lobby.
"Your table is ready, my dear," he grinned, extending his arm for Lauren to slide gracefully off the stool.
"What? How?"
"I explained to the chap at the desk that my wife and I had been waiting for a dreadfully long time and if we didn't get to eat soon, I'd have to complain to the owner of establishment, who happens to be a very good friend of mine."
Lauren's eyes grew wide as Ethan escorted her into the restaurant. "Your...your wife?"
"Shh," he whispered into her ear. "I apologize for being deceptive, but you're hungry, aren't you? And you've more than waited your turn."
Giggling, she leaned into him. Might as well look the part. "Yes, I'm famished."
The two followed the hostess as she weaved around the other patrons to a small table in the corner of the room.
Easing into their seats, they were handed menus and asked to silence their phones. Lauren did so obediently and smiled across the table at her new acquaintance.
"Thank you for getting us seated. I guess its easy to ignore a woman dining by herself, especially when they have so many other customers. By the way, who is your friend? The one that owns this place?"
Ethan picked up the wine list and returned her smile.
"I have no idea."
+++++
Corey sat in the enclosed back porch of his suburban Des Moines home admiring the sunset. It was something he did a lot these days, what with Lauren in Miami and his two daughters living their own lives elsewhere in the country. Yes, there was the occasional get together with friends for dinner or a concert, but for the most part, he spent his time away from work watching sports, movies, or sitting right here as overlord of his expansive backyard. Surfing the radio dial on an old boom box, he found a classic rock station, cracked open a beer, and let the memories wash over him.
One song reminded him of his days in high school, aimlessly cruising around with his buddies. Gas was cheap and people were so much more laid back then. Even the cops would simply make you pour out the beer. Those days are certainly gone. Another tune took him back to his college days when he spent crisp fall Friday nights - not unlike this one - at rally bonfires before the big games.
The next was a one-hit wonder from the mid-80's. If he wasn't mistaken, this was released around the time he had met Lauren at a mutual friend's wedding reception. Well, it was his anyway. She was just a friend of the bride's younger sister. A young nearly 20-year-old at the time and he a much older 32, they hit it off immediately and spent much of the evening chatting it up. At the end of the night, Corey had been very disappointed when Lauren declined to give him her number, claiming she was already in a relationship. In the days afterward, this vision of loveliness was all he could think about.
A couple Saturday's later, fate brought the two together again at a local supermarket. Corey was next in line to checkout when Lauren and her then boyfriend Pauly appeared behind him. The boy was struggling mightily to keep two cases of beer under control. It wasn't until Corey allowed them to cut in front that she recognized him from the wedding. This act of kindness earned him a wink and a smile. He then got a good laugh when the clerk promptly rejected the young man's fake ID. As a look of frustration crossed the kid's face, Corey managed to glance at the bogus driver's license, then cleared his throat.
"Not sure what the problem is ma'am, but I've known Paul here for a long time and know for a fact he is of age. But, you have your job to do. If you are not comfortable with the validity of his credentials, I'll buy these myself. I'm running low at home." Every single word of that was a lie.
The store clerk had given Corey a "do I look stupid?" glare, but the line behind them was growing, so she proceeded to ring the beer out as part of the older man's purchase. Outside, he loaded the packages into Pauly's trunk and waived off any attempt to pay him. Not that he was a rich man back then, but he was well aware of the crime he was committing and didn't want to call attention to it.
In retrospect, what happened next was the beginning of the end for Pauly. As her boyfriend jumped into the driver's seat, Lauren pecked Corey on the cheek and slipped him a piece of paper. Watching her stroll away, tight ass wrapped in those spandex pants that were popular at the time, Corey put a hand to his cheek. As Pauly's piece-of-shit car shot out of the parking lot, he caught a glimpse of her looking back at him and smiling. Unfolding the note, he found a number to her sorority house. The journey of a lifetime had begun.
The two began dating soon after that but they did not become an exclusive couple straightaway. Pauly was still in the picture, but it didn't take long for the pendulum to swing in Corey's favor. He was more mature, had a good job, and treated Lauren like a lady. Their first few dates were very platonic, and he initially feared winding up in the "friend zone". For a time, he himself wondered if it should stay that way. His friends had made the predictable comments about "robbing the cradle", but to Corey, it didn't feel that way. Although 11 years his junior, he didn't see Lauren as a child, and he certainly didn't feel like an old man.
Eventually the pair became intimate, although it took several weeks for Corey to even get to third base. This was a source of frustration because he knew she wasn't a virgin and, in fact, had sex with Pauly frequently. It wasn't something she broadcasted, nor did she do much to hide it. On early morning dates to the zoo or a park, Corey had more than once picked her up around the corner from the boy's fraternity house, where it was clear she had spent the night. Then there was the time a couple condoms fell out of her purse in front of him as she pulled out a hairbrush. Awkward, to say the least!
On the nights he suspected Lauren was with him, he would lay in bed, jerking off to the thought of her being fucked, wishing he was the guy making love to her, and wondering why he had been relegated to only using his fingers. To his delight, she soon ended it with Pauly, and the two new lovers consummated their own relationship. Just about a year after that, Lauren became Corey's wife.
And now, it seemed their relationship had come full circle. Here Corey sat, another night alone, while his wife of 28 years was out possibly flirting, or even having sex, all at his suggestion. His cock jerked upward at the thought. Had the nights he spent masturbating while Lauren was with Pauly fostered the beginning of his kink? She had later said she had kept him at bay sexually until they were a couple so he wouldn't think she was just another "good time girl". Then what was he to make of her recent comment about pulling train? An offhand comment for his kink's sake, or truth?
The emotions swimming around in the 61-year-old's head were too much to process. He leaned back into the Adirondack chair and closed his eyes. The long work week and the beer buzz were making him sleepy. Consciousness left him as he pondered whether his wife's recent heightened sexuality was just a result of recent prodding, or in fact, a resurgence of promiscuity she had suppressed once they were married.
+++++
The DVD player sucked in the disc and automatically began to play. It appeared to be an old film transferred from celluloid to digital. Although the picture quality was grainy with poor light, one could see a dark hallway lined with empty liquor bottles and young men who were casualties of too much drinking. Judging from the shakiness of the handheld camera, probably one of those Super 8s, the unknown videographer was equally as inebriated. At the end of the corridor, a dim red light shown through a crack in a door. The audio was terrible, but strains of 70's hard rock music blasting from within was clearly audible. As the cameraman pushed open the door, the unmistakable sounds of sex filled the room. Grunting, moaning, and a lot of panting.
The mysterious operator leveled out the camera to reveal about 10 guys standing about the room, dicks in their hand. "What do we have here, brother?" he drunkenly asked one of them.
"Get that thing out of my face, dipshit."
"She's back!" another fraternity brother ran into the frame. "And man, she is in rare form!"
"Good thing, too," yelled someone else over the music. "Rachel's on the rag this week, so this will have to do."
A girl's voice could be heard crying out, "Fuck me, give it to me! I want your cum so bad!"
As the camera worked its way through the throng, the only thing in frame was a pair of legs in black stockings sticking into the air, feet bouncing in a distinct rhythm.
"C’mon, man," someone shouted from the back of the room. "You've been at it for 10 minutes, let the rest of us cop a nut too!"
"Almost there, brother. Slut's gonna make me cum soon! FUCK ME, YOU *****!"
The operator finally focused on a young man from the rear. Shirt on, pants around his ankles, he was pile-driving his cock into a very dark, very wet bush. From the camera's vantage point, one could not see the girl's face, only long legs wrapped around the boy's waist, hands on his ass, pulling it towards her. Black curly hair dangled from an obscured face as it lifted to the young man's chest.
"Oh SHIT, bitch, that's it, suck my nips! Oh man, oh fuck, here it comes, I'm gonna blow!"
The girl screamed, "PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! Cum in my pussy, baby! Lube it for your friends! LET IT GO!!!"
The boy's ass trembled as he unloaded into the girl's willing slit. Finished, he pulled up his pants and buckled them.
"Who's next?" he asked, moving away from the bed. As he did so, the lens briefly caught a profile; it was Pauly, Lauren's former boyfriend.
Suddenly, someone pushed the camera operator towards the girl, sending him stumbling to the center of the room. "Go for it, Manny, it's your birthday". Manny trained the camera on the arms and legs in front of him, opened wide in a perverse invitation to the next lucky boy. Lying there on her back, cum oozing from a reddening pussy, was the 20-year-old version of Corey's wife. Young Lauren batted her eyes directly into the camera. "Are you next, stud? Make it snappy, the others want a turn and I'm getting married soon."
+++++
The maître d' canvassed the dining room, ensuring none of his customers were for want. Friday night crowds were usually jovial, and tonight was no exception. Especially the Miller woman and her husband at table 14c in the corner. Strange that the reservation was originally for one, but no matter, they were on their second bottle of one of his most expensive wines, and from the sounds of their merriment, they intended on finishing every bit of it.
Ethan raised his glass as the waitress cleared away their near empty pasta dishes.
"To America!" he toasted, bringing the rim of his wine glass to Lauren's.
"To Britain!" she reciprocated, laughing a bit too loudly.
Still holding his stemware high, he continued, "To Hell on Wheels!"
Blushing, Lauren quieted and set her glass on the table, watching her finger trace the rim around...and around...and around.
Easy, man, Ethan cautioned himself. He leaned in. "So, the jewelry clinging to your extremely shapely ankle. In some parts of the world that has a very specific connotation. I don't want to seem presumptuous, but does it mean the same here in the U.S?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Lauren continued to roll the end of her finger around her wine glass, looking at her reflection instead of his face. With a bit of resolve, she shook her jet-black bangs away from her eyes and looked deep into those iridescent blues.
"And what, exactly, is it, pray tell?".
Ethan smiled. A game now, eh? Good, the chase was the best part. He reached over and held one of her hands.
"It is said the H stands for Hot."
Taking her other hand, he finished his thought. "And the W stands for wife."
Lauren felt her panties moisten. The two stared at each other, the corners of their mouths turned up in a slight grin.
"So, are you, my dear, a hot," the Englishman kissed the back of one hand, then the other, "wife?"
Shaking, she looked around uncomfortably at the other tables, hoping other diners had not heard such talk.
"My husband would like to think so," Lauren whispered.
"Does he know you are here tonight, in such a sexy dress, wearing the chain?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "He gave it to me and ask me to wear it, so yes."
"Ah, his idea, then," Ethan replied, still holding her hands. "And what do you think of his request?"
A sudden hot flash caused her to pull away from his grip. She began fanning her face, eyes darting about.
"It’s...it’s gotten hot in here, hasn't it?"
Ethan held his gaze fast.
"At the risk of being too forward, my hotel room is much cooler and I dare say more comfortable. Would you like to join me for an after-dinner drink?"
Lauren squeezed her legs together, hoping to keep the juices now in her panties from dripping onto her thighs.
"I...I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Because you don't know me? Am I simply a software salesman from across the pond or Jack the Ripper?"
Lauren nodded. "Something like that. I'm sorry, I'm sure you are harmless, but these days..."
The blue eyes twinkled back at her in the low light. "I wouldn't say harmless," he joked, "just not in a Ripper way." Taking out a business card and holding it between his fingers, he continued. "Tell you what, here is my name. Call the company, I'm in their directory. Give it to a local constable and have them check me out. I assure you I am not a monster, just a man who's never had time for a wife, but very much likes the company of a lady. I'll be here until next Friday, then it’s off to Brazil. I'd love to see you again. Should you find yourself feeling the same way, I usually have a nightcap in the lobby bar every evening around nine.”
Lauren beamed longingly at the card. She could take it now and decide later or end this right now. Her hand reached out slowly, tentatively. Ethan closed her fingers around the card and kissed the back of her hand.
"Dinner's on me, don't try to pay, its already on my tab. Just talking to you would have been worth the price of two more bottles. Goodnight, beautiful."
He left Lauren peering silently into her wine glass. She knew she had done the right thing - the safe thing - but could not ignore how aroused she was at that very moment. Home is where she needed to be right now!
More than a bit tipsy, she grabbed her clutch and walked quickly towards the foyer, head down. This caused her to crash into an older man and his wife as all three were trying to squeeze through the door to the sidewalk.
"Terribly sorry, sirrrr," she apologized, then recoiled, realizing the man she had nearly sent flying was the CEO of her company. Of all places he could be. And here she was completely shitfaced.
"Good evening, Lauren!" the short, pudgy, balding man exclaimed. "Are you okay? Nice to see you."
"Uh, hi Mr. Jo..."
"Stephan. Outside the office, its Stephan. Did you enjoy your meal?" the executive asked as his wife stepped away to hail a
"Yes, it was quite nice," Lauren offered, hoping this would be a short conversation. How much had he seen?
"Was that your husband? He looked much different than in the photos on your desk. Was he called away suddenly?"
Shit.
"That was, uh...a friend, who is in town for a meeting."
The old man looked to ensure his wife was out of earshot and moved closer.
"From what I saw then, he must be a very good friend indeed. I know your circumstance, Lauren, with your husband being out of town and I know how lonely you must be. What you do on your own time is your business. Your secret is safe with me.”
Lauren gawked at him, unsure of what to say. "Pardon?"
Stephan looked down at her ankle and chuckled. "Being an amateur jeweler myself, and well into my 70s, I like to think I know the history of jewelry. Unless your children's names begin with an H or W, I'd say there's a pretty good chance hubby would have approved of the budding courtship back there. The world is not as big as you think, my dear."
The old man waddled off after his wife, who was just getting into a taxi.
Lauren watched stupefied as they drove off. What the fuck just happened?
+++++
Corey woke in a thick sweat amidst the images of his then college-age Lauren being gangbanged in the dirty backroom of some unnamed dormitory. The last rays of the sun had fallen beyond the horizon and he was now sitting in darkness, save for the blue glowing dials of the boom box.
Although he quickly realized it was just a dream, his penis was fully erect and aching to be stroked. Glancing around, he noted the solid enclosure of the back porch was higher than his elbows, affording him some privacy. Reaching beneath his sweatpants, he began to massage his cock, trying to remember as much as he could about the dream and "video".
Listening to the young Lauren begging to be fucked, allowing herself to be used is such a way was so wrong. Why then was he so hard? Was this around the time he was only getting his fingers wet? What if he had walked in on that scene? Her cries would have been louder than on the video and the smell of cheap beer, sex, and cum would have permeated the air. What would he have done? Flown into a rage, trashed the place? Pummeled whatever unfortunate boy happened to be on top of her? Or would he have stood in line, happy to finally get his turn? He pictured Lauren's glazed eyes recognizing him, then welcoming him to the big boys' club. This last bit of fancy nearly caused Corey to unload into his underwear. And he probably would have if it wasn't for the cell phone on the arm of the Adirondack vibrating itself onto the floor.
"Helloooo?" he heard Lauren's voice asked as he picked it up from underneath the chair. It sounded like she had been drinking. He looked at the time. Nine-fifteen. Wow, he'd been asleep for a while.
"I'm here. Is everything okay? Where are you at?"
"Home, just finished eating, getting undressed. Ouch!" she cried as she stubbed her toe on a bedpost.
Corey tried to pivot from having his dick in his hand to a civil conversation by firing off a series of trivial questions. How was the food? Was it a real Italian restaurant or one of those posers? Lauren was too buzzed to provide any comprehensive answers but listened to each one patiently as she removed her dress. Finally, there was a lull in the
"I'll have you know your gift worked, mister," she announced, slurring the words.
There was no response. She looked at her phone to ensure it hadn't died.
"Yoo hoo! Did you hear me? The anklet, remember? It worked." Lauren's juices started flowing again thinking of the handsome Englishman. She let her dress fall to the floor and walked over to the chest of drawers where her ten-inch vibrator, the Chairman of the Board, lay wrapped in its protective covering. Her eyes lit up.
"Tell me about it," Corey asked breathlessly. Between this news and his prior activities, his cock was bursting at the seams.
"He's a Brit on business here in the U.S. Name's Ethan. Met him at the bar while I was waiting for a table. We were both alone, so we had dinner together. He is quite interesting."
"I see. So, he hit on you?"
"I'd say it was more of a tap at first. He was the perfect gentleman."
Corey didn't say anything.
"The jewelry was no mystery to him," she professed, breaking into a popular 70's song about a chain. "He even asked me to join him in his room for an after-dinner drink."
Lauren could hear Corey hold his breath. What a perv! She snatched the dildo from the drawer and laid down on her bedspread.
"I didn't go. He's a stranger after all."
Big exhale.
"You sound disappointed." Off came her bra and panties.
"No, you made the wise choice. Still, you wanted to go with him, didn't you, you little minx?" His cock trembled at the thought of his wife getting fucked by a stranger in a hotel room.
Hesitating only briefly, she responded loudly and with conviction, the alcohol and the spectre of Kumiho emboldening her. "Yes. Yes, I FUCKING did."
Corey walked into his house lest any neighbors with big ears were around. He heard a distinctive buzzing noise.
"Is that the Chairman?" he asked, smiling.
The response came in the form of a big sigh.
"Babe, I'm fucked up and I need to be fucked. Fucked and fucked," Lauren giggled, somehow finding that very funny. "I am soooo horny. I don't know what's come over me lately."
She's definitely ripe, Corey thought, laying down on his own bed. If only he was there. Perhaps now would be a good time to address the question that had been burning in his head.
"Who do you want to fuck?"
"You, babe. I want you!"
"I'm not there."
"Then Ethan. I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT! I just want to FUCK!" The head of the Chairman was getting slick now as Lauren rubbed it around her labia. Corey pictured her bald pussy glistening with fluids.
"You had your chance with Ethan. Maybe a blast from the past would suffice?"
Corey heard his wife gasp.
"What? Who?"
"Pauly."
An image of the mop-haired teenager on top of her caused Lauren to moan. He was not a bad lover and recalled he had quite the weapon.
"What if he was with you right now? Would you fuck him?"
Flash to the frat boy pulling a skintight condom over his skinny tool. That induced another moan from her. The Chairman began sliding into the now sopping wet hole, Lauren's canal walls closing in around it as the hard rubber made its entry.
"That...that was a long time ago," she stammered.
"But you remember it don't you? Doing the nasty with him?"
"Corey, I don't think talking..."
"Do. You. Remember?"
Lauren used her free hand to start pulling at her tiny chest. Her half-inch nipples were hard erasers now. God, they need to be sucked!
"Yes, I do."
Corey grinned. He had her.
"How nasty did you get, babe?"
Even *****, Lauren knew where this was going. How much did she want him to know? Two could play this game.
"Take your cock out, big man. Play with it for me."
"I already am."
"We got REAL nasty, babe. Is that what you want to hear? We used to fuck like rabbits!"
Lauren heard heavy breathing coming from the phone and smiled. She had him.
Corey stroked his cock. His hand, perpetually chaffed from years of construction work, slid roughly along the shaft. Out of lube, he soldiered on.
"How often?"
"Two, three times a day," she huffed, driving the Chairman deeper into her. Holding it by its base, she could now get almost six inches inside, about the length of her husband. She needed more.
Recollections of the skinny boy eating her out began to set her off.
"Ohhhhhhhh, I remember. He was very good!"
"That's it babe, let the memories come back. Where did he fuck you?"
Lauren pinched her nipples, arched her back and grunted.
"His car, his friend's house, the library stairwell. Oh, Corey we've never talked about this, but Pauly was really the one that broke me in."
Jesus fucking Christ, Corey thought. His dick felt like iron at such a revelation. He knew she was no virgin when she met Paul, but this was quite the epiphany.
"His fraternity house room?"
Two grunts, a snort, and another moan. The vibrator was sliding freely in and out of her heavily lubricated pussy, up to at least eight inches now.
"ESPECIALLY his room!" Lauren laughed, then hiccupped.
"What did you do in that dirty, dingy, messy room?"
"We fucked!"
"How? Missionary? Doggy? Standing up?"
More chuckles. "Yes, yes and yes!"
Corey pictured the young boy pile driving the young Lauren from behind, her big 80s hair flopping about. He nearly came at the thought, but had to press on. He had to know.
"Did you have company?"
"Wha...?"
"Did Pauly let his friends fuck you? Did they stand in line like you said?"
The Chairman was working overtime now. He had penetrated his quarry to nearly full length, the wetness clearly audible as the vibrator's ten inches slid in and out of the sloppy vagina. Corey stroked his cock faster.
"He did, didn't he?"
Lauren grimaced, trying to fight through her ecstasy to reply.
"Is that what you want to believe, babe? That Pauly fucked me in front of his friends? Watching as my little titty buds hung down and jiggled while he did me doggy?"
She could hear him jacking off through the small speakers in her phone. Fap, fap, fap.
"I don't know what to believe, Lauren."
"Don't play me, Corey. Your cock is in your hands right now thinking about me doing the entire frat house! It’s okay, I know it turns you on. Stroke it for me. Imagine me on all fours as one boy pulls out, another follows. Mmmm."
"I need to know," Corey pleaded. He was getting close.
"Do you want it to be true? Would you like to see a bunch of men taking me at once, filling me up? Making me scream?" Lauren was surprised how much saying that aroused her.
Both of them cried out in passion as that image sank in.
"That's so FUCKING hot!" Corey exclaimed, really cranking down on his meat now. "I see the door is left open, hear the old bedsprings squeaking in rhythm, calling out to anyone who wants a piece. As each boy finishes in you, the next one mounts."
"Oohhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Lauren screamed. "Yes! Goddamnit, please, more, more, yessssss!"
"How many now? 5? 10? 20? You lost count, didn't you, slut?"
Lauren crushed the Chairman's entire length into her accommodating pussy. The sheets between her legs were saturated.
"So many..." she whimpered.
Corey's faced contorted, barely able to contain his release. Just a little longer. Please God, Lauren first. He had to get her off.
"Your cunt is so slippery, even the largest of the boys can't come. They're going to have to nut on your pretty ***** face!"
In an instant, Lauren was transported back nearly 30 years to Pauly's dorm room. She found herself on her back staring at the ceiling, a boy she barely knew on top of her, grunting and slobbering all over her tiny tits. Her boyfriend was off to the side, smoking a joint and egging it on. Only six inches above her face, no less than three cocks were being stroked furiously by their owners, wrinkled ball sacks hanging beneath each shaft, waiting to spew their milky semen onto her body.
"Fuck, Corey...awe...awe...ohhhhhh! There's so many. I want it! I WANT ALL THEIR CUM SO MUCH!"
"Such a slut *****! Watch their cocks, the veins underneath. Are they starting to pulse?"
Lauren's head was writhing on her pillow. "Oh, yes!"
"They're getting ready to blow all over you! Are you ready?"
"GIVE IT TO ME! Plaster my body with your spunk, you filthy bastards!"
In her mind, white ropes of semen blasted from the tips of the cocks above her, while the boy plunging his tool into her pussy hollered in pleasure as he dumped his seed into her womb at the same time.
"FUCCCKKKK COREEEE I'M CUMMING! OH FUCK, I'M CUMMING!!!"
Lauren's hips bucked at the Chairman as the orgasm washed over her. It wasn't a huge, timber shaking climax, but after an evening filled with booze and sexual innuendo, it felt incredibly gratifying.
Satisfied that his wife had come, Corey now concentrated on his own apex. Lauren could hear him grunt repeatedly as his hand assaulted his cock, trying to coax out the white substance she wished she was there to take.
Turning off the slippery vibrator, she turned her focus to helping her husband come.
"That's it, baby, let it all go. Just think of all those frat boys having their way with me, taking turns pounding my pussy into a dirty, worn out mattress. Just like you'd expect from a teenage *****!"
"Awwww, Lauren! Oh my God, I'm so close..."
"Those arrogant boys dumping their cum into me, one by one! Each one thinking they're the best!"
"Yessss, oh, yes, I can see it!"
"My pussy so used, so warm and squishy."
"Oh fuck! OH FUCK! I'M THERE, I'M THERE!!!"
"WHERE ARE YOU, STUD? In the back of the line? Don't you want a piece of me? C'MON, baby, fight your way to the front and add your cum to your slut wife's cunt! EVERYBODY ELSE'S IS IN THERE!" Lauren screamed.
Corey's orgasm hit him hard. His body lurched upright in bed. Frequent masturbation had left his balls depleted, but the small amount of cum he did have came trickling out into a handkerchief. His breathing was so irregular afterward that Lauren asked him several times if he was okay.
The couple lay in their respective beds 1,500 miles apart, trying to squeeze out whatever intimacy they could over the phone. It was difficult.
"I love you, babe," Corey panted.
Lauren was still catching her own breath. "I love you too. That was fucking AWESOME," she sang out as if in celebration. Clearly, she was still inebriated.
A few minutes of phone-pillow talk later, Corey decided the elephant was still in the virtual room. He cleared his throat.
"You never answered me."
"About what?"
"Please. Don't make me beg."
Lauren smiled. She was getting sleepy. "I'm not sure you'd care for the answer, perv."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning..." her voice drifted off slowly.
Corey listened intently. It sounded like she was falling asleep. "Lauren!" he barked to keep her attention.
Lauren's eyes shot open. "Meaning you're a pervert! You get off on the thought of me sleeping with other men. You may not like what you hear, that's all."
"Which is?"
Lauren smacked her lips together. She was very thirsty. Maybe I’ll just lay here a minute, then get something to drink.
"Babe?"
She rolled her eyes. Jesus, he was persistent!
"You and Max...that was the first time...I've had more than one guy...at once. OKAY? First time!" She threw a pillow across the room at nothing in particular and laughed maniacally.
"And I fucking LOVED IT, goddammit! You hear me? I loved having more than one cock! There, is that what you wanted to hear, perv? Now I'm going to sleep. Bye bye!"
Corey leaned back against the headboard. Part of him was relieved to know his wife and mother of his children was not the community ***** back in college. Conversely, he was also aware of a dark place in him that had wanted it to be true. At least now he knew for sure. And tonight's role play with Lauren had been thoroughly stimulating for both of them. Pair that with her admittedly intoxicated comment just now, and one had to wonder what adventures could lie ahead.
+++++
Driving passed the chain-link construction fences, Corey waved at Jerry and Dan, two other project managers on the job. He smiled. If only they had known the dark role they played in he and his wife’s love making recently, brought up by none other than Lauren herself. A tall tale to be sure, told from her point of view about an encounter with his coworkers in the construction trailer, which ultimately resulted in them unloading semen onto her face. Pure fiction, of course, but hot, nonetheless.
The 45-minute drive to the suburbs gave the 61-year-old a chance to reflect on his wife and their relationship. In the five months since Lauren had relocated to South Florida for her new job, he had witnessed the low key, demure, and nearly frigid 48-year-old Midwestern mother change into a dynamic sexual creature who was slowly embracing some of the eccentricities that he himself had fantasized about for years. For some time now he'd been pushing her to dress more provocatively, be a flirt, and more recently, be promiscuous. In the last couple months, she had checked all three boxes. In addition, she seemed to have developed her own idiosyncrasies, ranging from a newfound fondness of facials and over-the-top filthy talk while in the throes of passion. What used to be a few whimpers had graduated into a steady stream of fuck me, fuck you, fuck everything! Sometimes contrived, sometimes self-deprecating, but always, always a turn on.
Admittedly, Corey had played a major part in this transformation and much of her new behavior was a product of his own doing. Beginning years ago, he had promoted the notion of sharing her by way of manufactured tall tales while nestled safely in their marital bed behind closed doors. Lauren had always enjoyed the imaginary lovers to some extent, having an orgasm at the thought of others taking her roughly during the precious few times they did make love. It was a concept they both understood to be pure fantasy and it seemed destined to stay that way. Alas, an early menopause and Corey's expanding waistline and diminished stamina as he aged had significantly decreased his wife's libido. Until her recent move, that is.
Now, she had grown emboldened, triggered not by his persistence alone, but an inner force he could not quite put his finger on. It was as if something had awakened; a sexuality that had laid dormant, just below the surface. Perhaps she had suppressed it once they were married or maybe it had never surfaced before at all. It was hard to tell. During Lauren's recent tryst with the neighbor boy, she had uttered some nonsense about her pulling train in an old boyfriend's fraternity house. Whether there was any truth in that or if she was just being "in character" feeding Corey's kink, he did not know. Nor had he pursued it. Yet, it was clear he had poked a tiger, and since coming to Miami, it appeared the tiger had been inspired. At times he beat himself up over the perpetual cajoling. Husbands weren't supposed to encourage their wives to have sex with others. At least that’s what mainstream society claimed. He told himself it was for altruistic reasons - for her sexual fulfillment and happiness - but that would not be completely honest either. No, he had enough self-awareness to know it was the damn compersion he craved, the feeling he experienced when witnessing or even thinking of Lauren with another. Yes, it was kinky, perverse, and even depraved, but God help him, he loved it so.
The flash of a sign signaling the post office ahead caught Corey's eye. Crap, almost missed it! He slowed the old pickup truck and guided it into the parking lot. Grabbing a small plainly wrapped box from the middle console, he jumped down and approached the night drop. His hand shook slightly as he pulled opened the drawer and placed the tiny package on the tray. Hesitating longer than he should have, he allowed the lid to close, listening to the parcel drop into the void. He looked up at the rosy twilight sky and sighed. It was going to be another lonely night.
+++++
Lauren walked into the lobby of her apartment building and bent over, hands on knees and slightly wheezing. Out of breath from a long early evening power walk, she walked aimlessly around the white marble floor as she willed her body to cool down. Miami in October could still be quite warm and this day was no exception. She had to remind herself she was not a young chick anymore.
An older bespectacled gentleman working the concierge desk looked at her appreciatively. One of the perks of the job was being able to observe female residents come and go, all under the pretense of keeping an eye on them for their safety. His eyes drank in her tight black bike shorts and pink sports bra. Small firm ass and tiny tits. The apartment building was not lacking for pretty woman, but this one was exemplary. Older, but more in shape than most.
"Good evening, Mrs. Miller. You have a package waiting. Would you like to pick it up now?" he asked, maintaining an air of professionalism.
Lauren nodded as she approached the desk, taking a long sip of water. The man handed her the package, discreetly glancing at the tiny nipples hardening from the cool air blowing from the floor vents. "Thank you, Harvey," she replied, closing her hand around the small box, noting the familiar handwriting on the brown paper wrapper.
The attendant watched the perfect buttocks shift up and down beneath clingy polyester as their owner sauntered to the elevators. He was acutely aware the woman's husband only visited from time to time and was not yet a permanent resident. That was risky. Leaving a fine piece of ass like that alone in a sinful city like Miami was only asking for trouble.
+++++
Lauren entered her 23rd floor apartment with only two things in mind: a hot shower and a good meal. Looking down at the package, she noticed it was postmarked three days ago from Des Moines. Sweet Corey. He was forever sending her little things for the apartment; a candle here, a knickknack there. Unfortunately, this one would have to wait. Plopping the box on the kitchen island, she stripped off her sweaty clothes and jumped under the steady stream of warm water. It was Friday night, and she was in a good mood. Her taste buds had been tantalized for weeks by the aroma of a new Italian restaurant around the corner and tonight she was set on some good pasta.
After showering, the 48-year-old donned a long sleeve, red satin scoop-neck dress and simple two-inch high heels. It was of modest length, stopping mid-thigh, but clingy enough to highlight her curves and small chest. Classy without being over-the-top.
Meandering into the kitchen, Lauren picked up the nondescript package from the kitchen counter and unwrapped it. Inside was a small white jewelry box held together by a blue ribbon. This immediately piqued her curiosity. She could count on one hand the number of times Corey had given her unsolicited jewelry. Carefully wiggling off the top, she peeled away the fluffy white cotton to reveal a short gold chain nestled within. It was too short to be a necklace. A bracelet perhaps?
Lifting it from the box with an index finger, she peered at it quizzically. It had a rather sturdy clasp and two small letter pendants hanging in the middle: "H" and "W". Lauren stared at the chain with a blank look. What the heck? Those were definitely NOT her initials. Moments later a faint recollection crept in. During her research into understanding Corey's hotwife kink, she recalled that some women wear an anklet as a way of sending a subtle message to potential partners that they are available and have the consent of their husbands to "mingle".
"I'll be damned," Lauren shook her head, grinning. He's getting bolder, I'll give him that.
+++++
Corey was huddled over a barbecue grill in his backyard nursing a t-bone steak to perfection when the video app on his phone rang. His face lit up at the sight of his lovely wife.
"Hi babe. TGIF! Hope they took it easy on you this week," he said cheerfully. He too was in a good mood. "Wow, you're dressed nice. What's the occasion?"
"Going to the new Italian place down the street. Looking forward to a good meal without cooking for a change."
"Alone? I mean the dress and all."
"Yes, alone," Lauren replied. Narrowing her eyes, she held up the anklet. "Unless you had other plans for me."
"Ah, yes," Corey tittered. "So, you got it. What do you think? Do you like it?"
"High-quality gold. You have good taste."
"Nothing but the best for you."
A few moments of silence followed.
"You know this is a clear invitation for men to hit on me," Lauren stated flatly. Then, remembering her commitment to helping him evolve his fetish, she added softly, "I'm assuming that is what you want."
"All I want is for you to be satisfied."
"You are so full of shit," Lauren snorted, twisting the chain around her fingers. She watched quietly as he sprinkled some spices on the meat. After a minute, she spoke up. What the hell, she was in a funky mood.
"Would you like me to wear it tonight? I'm not convinced anything will come of it, but maybe some Italian stallion will take notice."
Corey looked back towards the screen and raised his eyebrows. " Really? I wasn't sure you would."
"You sent it just to sit in a jewelry box?"
"I...I guess not," Corey gulped. "I sent it because it was hot picturing you in a bar, the anklet advertising your availability, men trying to pick you up..."
"You mean, like a ******," she pondered, "except the milk's free."
"Um, well, now that you put it that way..." Corey stammered. He was losing this one. "Just forget it, babe. I thought you might find it hot too. I can send it back. No harm, no foul."
Lauren deliberated her response. He clearly intended for her to wear the gift with hopes for a specific outcome. She was willing to indulge some of his fantasies - after all, she derived pleasure from them as well - but was this taking things too far? Still with few friends in the area, any man approaching her in Miami would more than likely be a stranger. That posed a danger in itself these days. Still, she wanted to satiate Corey's needs, let it swim around in his perverted brain. What's the chances of a single man at an upscale restaurant hitting on her, much less one recognizing the anklet's significance? Besides, it might be a naughty thrill.
"No need to return it," Lauren cooed as she bent over to secure the chain around her ankle. A photo of his wife's tanned foot appeared on Corey's screen. The shiny gold anklet lay beautifully against the smooth skin. "You seem to forget that while this started as your kink, I'm the one that engineered the rendezvous with Max and Tommy. Let's see if anyone notices, shall we?"
Corey groaned at the thought. There was no doubt in his mind someone would. His cock twitched its involuntary approval.
+++++
Harvey's eyes followed the slim beauty through the lobby as she walked towards the revolving door leading to the driveway. The tight ruby red dress complemented the straight jet-black hair flowing to the middle of her back, a hint of gold flashing from an ankle chain as she passed underneath the bright lights. He grinned. Classy outfit or sweaty workout clothes, this woman always looked dialed in.
The Italian restaurant was just a few steps around the corner from the apartment building. Its foyer was adjacent to an ornate hotel and hungry patrons crowded in to await a coveted table. New restaurants were always difficult to get into, so Lauren was thankful she had the presence of mind to make a reservation the previous week. The maître d' welcomed her with a warm smile and invited her to wait for her table in the restaurant's bar which was located in the hotel lobby. Knowing she was about 30 minutes early, she did not protest and instead carefully walked up the stairs towards the bar. The dress was comfortable but tight and did not allow for much leg room. In fact, she had difficulty lifting her butt into place on the bar stool, much to the amusement of the bartender. He seemed to take much delight in watching the hemline rise on her thighs as she crossed her toned legs.
"What can I get you, Miss?"
"A dry martini please, and two more inches on my heels," Lauren quipped as she surveyed the lobby. An opulent four-star hotel, it was housed within an older building which the owners had tried to preserve. Being a Friday, most businessmen had checked out hours ago, and now the majority of the guests were families looking to blow off steam over the weekend. Downing the drink - a bit more rapidly than she should - the shiny gold chain around her ankle became a source of self-awareness. In Lauren's mind it was a billboard announcing, "slut wife here", but in reality, it was barely noticeable. As the alcohol began to calm her nerves, she realized it would be a stretch for anyone in such an upscale place to recognize the anklet's significance, if they noticed it at all. Part of her just wanted to eat and go back to her apartment to veg. Yet, deep inside, she felt Kuhimo tugging at her libido, excited at the possibility of connecting.
It didn't seem there was much chance of that at the moment. Those waiting in the bar were mostly couples. The few men that were by themselves sat at the rail fiddling with their phones, lost in their 3-by-5 virtual worlds. A hostess from the restaurant eventually came up the stairs, giving her a glimmer of hope that a table was ready. This was dashed when another name was called. She looked for the bartender and waved for another drink.
Predictably, a beautiful woman in a form-fitting dress alone in a bar on a Friday night is bound to be noticed. Over the next 25 minutes, several men - who were ostensibly just passing through - tried to strike up conversations, but once they noticed the wedding ring, the banter ended, and they moved on. Either they had not noticed the anklet, were ******* of its meaning, or were simply scared off.
Lauren continued to sip the martini. Her reservation time had just passed. Succumbing to the boredom, she began surfing various shopping sites on her phone while quietly bopping her head to the piped in sounds of 80's music. She was completely immersed in the review of some designer shoes when a nearby voice startled her.
"That was a crazy decade for music, wasn't it?"
Looking up from her phone, she discovered the voice belonged to a very distinguished looking gentlemen about her age.
"What was that?"
"The 80's," the man said, sliding onto the stool beside her. "It had everything. Punk rock, new wave, hair bands, the beginning of grunge."
"I suppose so," Lauren replied, pushing the bangs from her eyes to get a better look at the stranger. He had a distinct accent. English? Australian? Whatever the nationality, he was certainly well put together. Good complexion, meticulously coifed hair and nails, expensive collarless shirt and slacks. Not particularly buff, but not soft either. All around, very charming with a kind face.
"I'm Ethan," he offered, holding out his hand. "Just in from the U.K. on business next week."
Her fingers disappeared into his grasp as they shook. He had the most intense color of blue eyes she had ever seen.
"Lauren. Just in from around the corner. And still waiting for a table."
He ordered a bourbon and politely asked if another drink would do. A nod of her pretty head told him two things: she was still thirsty, and she was open to conversation. A good start.
"Lovely name. Although I would have guessed Hell on Wheels."
"Sorry?"
Ethan pointed at her ankle. "HW?"
Lauren coughed as she wiped some of the martini from her chin. So much for no one noticing.
"Um, a gift from my husband."
"I see," the Englishman replied. "Funny, you'd think he'd know your name by now."
That got a sly smirk from the pretty face. Excellent, he thought. After traveling the world for 25 years he knew all too well what the anklet likely signified. But one had to be careful not to offend. If wrong, it could mean a drink in the face. If correct, many such women were skittish to begin with and demanded discreetness. Some needed the right amount of coaxing.
"Between that chain and the size of the diamond on your finger, he must love you very much."
Lauren looked down at her wedding ring and fiddled with the band.
"Yes, he does."
"Good. A solid marriage is an important institution."
That was certainly an interesting statement, Lauren thought. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not hitting on her at all.
From there, the pair launched into a lengthy but pleasant conversation ranging from favorite 80's bands to how life in Britain differed from that in the United States. Lauren hung on the man's every word, smitten by his good looks, accent, and stately presence. She had completely forgotten about dinner. Then the unthinkable happened. Her stomach growled. LOUDLY, ending with a fading whine, like a cat dying a terrible death.
Ethan laughed. "Hungry, are we? How long have you been waiting?"
Covering her mouth in embarrassment, Lauren looked sheepishly at her phone. "Now almost 20 minutes past my reservation." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the hostess heading back towards the bar. "Maybe that's me now."
But it was not to be. The woman motioned to another couple, who quickly gathered their belongings and followed. As the trio passed by and disappeared into the restaurant, Ethan slipped in behind them. Lauren sighed. Buh-bye, blue eyes she thought to herself, taking another sip.
Two minutes later, the dapper Englishman bounded back up the stairs into the hotel lobby.
"Your table is ready, my dear," he grinned, extending his arm for Lauren to slide gracefully off the stool.
"What? How?"
"I explained to the chap at the desk that my wife and I had been waiting for a dreadfully long time and if we didn't get to eat soon, I'd have to complain to the owner of establishment, who happens to be a very good friend of mine."
Lauren's eyes grew wide as Ethan escorted her into the restaurant. "Your...your wife?"
"Shh," he whispered into her ear. "I apologize for being deceptive, but you're hungry, aren't you? And you've more than waited your turn."
Giggling, she leaned into him. Might as well look the part. "Yes, I'm famished."
The two followed the hostess as she weaved around the other patrons to a small table in the corner of the room.
Easing into their seats, they were handed menus and asked to silence their phones. Lauren did so obediently and smiled across the table at her new acquaintance.
"Thank you for getting us seated. I guess its easy to ignore a woman dining by herself, especially when they have so many other customers. By the way, who is your friend? The one that owns this place?"
Ethan picked up the wine list and returned her smile.
"I have no idea."
+++++
Corey sat in the enclosed back porch of his suburban Des Moines home admiring the sunset. It was something he did a lot these days, what with Lauren in Miami and his two daughters living their own lives elsewhere in the country. Yes, there was the occasional get together with friends for dinner or a concert, but for the most part, he spent his time away from work watching sports, movies, or sitting right here as overlord of his expansive backyard. Surfing the radio dial on an old boom box, he found a classic rock station, cracked open a beer, and let the memories wash over him.
One song reminded him of his days in high school, aimlessly cruising around with his buddies. Gas was cheap and people were so much more laid back then. Even the cops would simply make you pour out the beer. Those days are certainly gone. Another tune took him back to his college days when he spent crisp fall Friday nights - not unlike this one - at rally bonfires before the big games.
The next was a one-hit wonder from the mid-80's. If he wasn't mistaken, this was released around the time he had met Lauren at a mutual friend's wedding reception. Well, it was his anyway. She was just a friend of the bride's younger sister. A young nearly 20-year-old at the time and he a much older 32, they hit it off immediately and spent much of the evening chatting it up. At the end of the night, Corey had been very disappointed when Lauren declined to give him her number, claiming she was already in a relationship. In the days afterward, this vision of loveliness was all he could think about.
A couple Saturday's later, fate brought the two together again at a local supermarket. Corey was next in line to checkout when Lauren and her then boyfriend Pauly appeared behind him. The boy was struggling mightily to keep two cases of beer under control. It wasn't until Corey allowed them to cut in front that she recognized him from the wedding. This act of kindness earned him a wink and a smile. He then got a good laugh when the clerk promptly rejected the young man's fake ID. As a look of frustration crossed the kid's face, Corey managed to glance at the bogus driver's license, then cleared his throat.
"Not sure what the problem is ma'am, but I've known Paul here for a long time and know for a fact he is of age. But, you have your job to do. If you are not comfortable with the validity of his credentials, I'll buy these myself. I'm running low at home." Every single word of that was a lie.
The store clerk had given Corey a "do I look stupid?" glare, but the line behind them was growing, so she proceeded to ring the beer out as part of the older man's purchase. Outside, he loaded the packages into Pauly's trunk and waived off any attempt to pay him. Not that he was a rich man back then, but he was well aware of the crime he was committing and didn't want to call attention to it.
In retrospect, what happened next was the beginning of the end for Pauly. As her boyfriend jumped into the driver's seat, Lauren pecked Corey on the cheek and slipped him a piece of paper. Watching her stroll away, tight ass wrapped in those spandex pants that were popular at the time, Corey put a hand to his cheek. As Pauly's piece-of-shit car shot out of the parking lot, he caught a glimpse of her looking back at him and smiling. Unfolding the note, he found a number to her sorority house. The journey of a lifetime had begun.
The two began dating soon after that but they did not become an exclusive couple straightaway. Pauly was still in the picture, but it didn't take long for the pendulum to swing in Corey's favor. He was more mature, had a good job, and treated Lauren like a lady. Their first few dates were very platonic, and he initially feared winding up in the "friend zone". For a time, he himself wondered if it should stay that way. His friends had made the predictable comments about "robbing the cradle", but to Corey, it didn't feel that way. Although 11 years his junior, he didn't see Lauren as a child, and he certainly didn't feel like an old man.
Eventually the pair became intimate, although it took several weeks for Corey to even get to third base. This was a source of frustration because he knew she wasn't a virgin and, in fact, had sex with Pauly frequently. It wasn't something she broadcasted, nor did she do much to hide it. On early morning dates to the zoo or a park, Corey had more than once picked her up around the corner from the boy's fraternity house, where it was clear she had spent the night. Then there was the time a couple condoms fell out of her purse in front of him as she pulled out a hairbrush. Awkward, to say the least!
On the nights he suspected Lauren was with him, he would lay in bed, jerking off to the thought of her being fucked, wishing he was the guy making love to her, and wondering why he had been relegated to only using his fingers. To his delight, she soon ended it with Pauly, and the two new lovers consummated their own relationship. Just about a year after that, Lauren became Corey's wife.
And now, it seemed their relationship had come full circle. Here Corey sat, another night alone, while his wife of 28 years was out possibly flirting, or even having sex, all at his suggestion. His cock jerked upward at the thought. Had the nights he spent masturbating while Lauren was with Pauly fostered the beginning of his kink? She had later said she had kept him at bay sexually until they were a couple so he wouldn't think she was just another "good time girl". Then what was he to make of her recent comment about pulling train? An offhand comment for his kink's sake, or truth?
The emotions swimming around in the 61-year-old's head were too much to process. He leaned back into the Adirondack chair and closed his eyes. The long work week and the beer buzz were making him sleepy. Consciousness left him as he pondered whether his wife's recent heightened sexuality was just a result of recent prodding, or in fact, a resurgence of promiscuity she had suppressed once they were married.
+++++
The DVD player sucked in the disc and automatically began to play. It appeared to be an old film transferred from celluloid to digital. Although the picture quality was grainy with poor light, one could see a dark hallway lined with empty liquor bottles and young men who were casualties of too much drinking. Judging from the shakiness of the handheld camera, probably one of those Super 8s, the unknown videographer was equally as inebriated. At the end of the corridor, a dim red light shown through a crack in a door. The audio was terrible, but strains of 70's hard rock music blasting from within was clearly audible. As the cameraman pushed open the door, the unmistakable sounds of sex filled the room. Grunting, moaning, and a lot of panting.
The mysterious operator leveled out the camera to reveal about 10 guys standing about the room, dicks in their hand. "What do we have here, brother?" he drunkenly asked one of them.
"Get that thing out of my face, dipshit."
"She's back!" another fraternity brother ran into the frame. "And man, she is in rare form!"
"Good thing, too," yelled someone else over the music. "Rachel's on the rag this week, so this will have to do."
A girl's voice could be heard crying out, "Fuck me, give it to me! I want your cum so bad!"
As the camera worked its way through the throng, the only thing in frame was a pair of legs in black stockings sticking into the air, feet bouncing in a distinct rhythm.
"C’mon, man," someone shouted from the back of the room. "You've been at it for 10 minutes, let the rest of us cop a nut too!"
"Almost there, brother. Slut's gonna make me cum soon! FUCK ME, YOU *****!"
The operator finally focused on a young man from the rear. Shirt on, pants around his ankles, he was pile-driving his cock into a very dark, very wet bush. From the camera's vantage point, one could not see the girl's face, only long legs wrapped around the boy's waist, hands on his ass, pulling it towards her. Black curly hair dangled from an obscured face as it lifted to the young man's chest.
"Oh SHIT, bitch, that's it, suck my nips! Oh man, oh fuck, here it comes, I'm gonna blow!"
The girl screamed, "PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! Cum in my pussy, baby! Lube it for your friends! LET IT GO!!!"
The boy's ass trembled as he unloaded into the girl's willing slit. Finished, he pulled up his pants and buckled them.
"Who's next?" he asked, moving away from the bed. As he did so, the lens briefly caught a profile; it was Pauly, Lauren's former boyfriend.
Suddenly, someone pushed the camera operator towards the girl, sending him stumbling to the center of the room. "Go for it, Manny, it's your birthday". Manny trained the camera on the arms and legs in front of him, opened wide in a perverse invitation to the next lucky boy. Lying there on her back, cum oozing from a reddening pussy, was the 20-year-old version of Corey's wife. Young Lauren batted her eyes directly into the camera. "Are you next, stud? Make it snappy, the others want a turn and I'm getting married soon."
+++++
The maître d' canvassed the dining room, ensuring none of his customers were for want. Friday night crowds were usually jovial, and tonight was no exception. Especially the Miller woman and her husband at table 14c in the corner. Strange that the reservation was originally for one, but no matter, they were on their second bottle of one of his most expensive wines, and from the sounds of their merriment, they intended on finishing every bit of it.
Ethan raised his glass as the waitress cleared away their near empty pasta dishes.
"To America!" he toasted, bringing the rim of his wine glass to Lauren's.
"To Britain!" she reciprocated, laughing a bit too loudly.
Still holding his stemware high, he continued, "To Hell on Wheels!"
Blushing, Lauren quieted and set her glass on the table, watching her finger trace the rim around...and around...and around.
Easy, man, Ethan cautioned himself. He leaned in. "So, the jewelry clinging to your extremely shapely ankle. In some parts of the world that has a very specific connotation. I don't want to seem presumptuous, but does it mean the same here in the U.S?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Lauren continued to roll the end of her finger around her wine glass, looking at her reflection instead of his face. With a bit of resolve, she shook her jet-black bangs away from her eyes and looked deep into those iridescent blues.
"And what, exactly, is it, pray tell?".
Ethan smiled. A game now, eh? Good, the chase was the best part. He reached over and held one of her hands.
"It is said the H stands for Hot."
Taking her other hand, he finished his thought. "And the W stands for wife."
Lauren felt her panties moisten. The two stared at each other, the corners of their mouths turned up in a slight grin.
"So, are you, my dear, a hot," the Englishman kissed the back of one hand, then the other, "wife?"
Shaking, she looked around uncomfortably at the other tables, hoping other diners had not heard such talk.
"My husband would like to think so," Lauren whispered.
"Does he know you are here tonight, in such a sexy dress, wearing the chain?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "He gave it to me and ask me to wear it, so yes."
"Ah, his idea, then," Ethan replied, still holding her hands. "And what do you think of his request?"
A sudden hot flash caused her to pull away from his grip. She began fanning her face, eyes darting about.
"It’s...it’s gotten hot in here, hasn't it?"
Ethan held his gaze fast.
"At the risk of being too forward, my hotel room is much cooler and I dare say more comfortable. Would you like to join me for an after-dinner drink?"
Lauren squeezed her legs together, hoping to keep the juices now in her panties from dripping onto her thighs.
"I...I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Because you don't know me? Am I simply a software salesman from across the pond or Jack the Ripper?"
Lauren nodded. "Something like that. I'm sorry, I'm sure you are harmless, but these days..."
The blue eyes twinkled back at her in the low light. "I wouldn't say harmless," he joked, "just not in a Ripper way." Taking out a business card and holding it between his fingers, he continued. "Tell you what, here is my name. Call the company, I'm in their directory. Give it to a local constable and have them check me out. I assure you I am not a monster, just a man who's never had time for a wife, but very much likes the company of a lady. I'll be here until next Friday, then it’s off to Brazil. I'd love to see you again. Should you find yourself feeling the same way, I usually have a nightcap in the lobby bar every evening around nine.”
Lauren beamed longingly at the card. She could take it now and decide later or end this right now. Her hand reached out slowly, tentatively. Ethan closed her fingers around the card and kissed the back of her hand.
"Dinner's on me, don't try to pay, its already on my tab. Just talking to you would have been worth the price of two more bottles. Goodnight, beautiful."
He left Lauren peering silently into her wine glass. She knew she had done the right thing - the safe thing - but could not ignore how aroused she was at that very moment. Home is where she needed to be right now!
More than a bit tipsy, she grabbed her clutch and walked quickly towards the foyer, head down. This caused her to crash into an older man and his wife as all three were trying to squeeze through the door to the sidewalk.
"Terribly sorry, sirrrr," she apologized, then recoiled, realizing the man she had nearly sent flying was the CEO of her company. Of all places he could be. And here she was completely shitfaced.
"Good evening, Lauren!" the short, pudgy, balding man exclaimed. "Are you okay? Nice to see you."
"Uh, hi Mr. Jo..."
"Stephan. Outside the office, its Stephan. Did you enjoy your meal?" the executive asked as his wife stepped away to hail a
"Yes, it was quite nice," Lauren offered, hoping this would be a short conversation. How much had he seen?
"Was that your husband? He looked much different than in the photos on your desk. Was he called away suddenly?"
Shit.
"That was, uh...a friend, who is in town for a meeting."
The old man looked to ensure his wife was out of earshot and moved closer.
"From what I saw then, he must be a very good friend indeed. I know your circumstance, Lauren, with your husband being out of town and I know how lonely you must be. What you do on your own time is your business. Your secret is safe with me.”
Lauren gawked at him, unsure of what to say. "Pardon?"
Stephan looked down at her ankle and chuckled. "Being an amateur jeweler myself, and well into my 70s, I like to think I know the history of jewelry. Unless your children's names begin with an H or W, I'd say there's a pretty good chance hubby would have approved of the budding courtship back there. The world is not as big as you think, my dear."
The old man waddled off after his wife, who was just getting into a taxi.
Lauren watched stupefied as they drove off. What the fuck just happened?
+++++
Corey woke in a thick sweat amidst the images of his then college-age Lauren being gangbanged in the dirty backroom of some unnamed dormitory. The last rays of the sun had fallen beyond the horizon and he was now sitting in darkness, save for the blue glowing dials of the boom box.
Although he quickly realized it was just a dream, his penis was fully erect and aching to be stroked. Glancing around, he noted the solid enclosure of the back porch was higher than his elbows, affording him some privacy. Reaching beneath his sweatpants, he began to massage his cock, trying to remember as much as he could about the dream and "video".
Listening to the young Lauren begging to be fucked, allowing herself to be used is such a way was so wrong. Why then was he so hard? Was this around the time he was only getting his fingers wet? What if he had walked in on that scene? Her cries would have been louder than on the video and the smell of cheap beer, sex, and cum would have permeated the air. What would he have done? Flown into a rage, trashed the place? Pummeled whatever unfortunate boy happened to be on top of her? Or would he have stood in line, happy to finally get his turn? He pictured Lauren's glazed eyes recognizing him, then welcoming him to the big boys' club. This last bit of fancy nearly caused Corey to unload into his underwear. And he probably would have if it wasn't for the cell phone on the arm of the Adirondack vibrating itself onto the floor.
"Helloooo?" he heard Lauren's voice asked as he picked it up from underneath the chair. It sounded like she had been drinking. He looked at the time. Nine-fifteen. Wow, he'd been asleep for a while.
"I'm here. Is everything okay? Where are you at?"
"Home, just finished eating, getting undressed. Ouch!" she cried as she stubbed her toe on a bedpost.
Corey tried to pivot from having his dick in his hand to a civil conversation by firing off a series of trivial questions. How was the food? Was it a real Italian restaurant or one of those posers? Lauren was too buzzed to provide any comprehensive answers but listened to each one patiently as she removed her dress. Finally, there was a lull in the
"I'll have you know your gift worked, mister," she announced, slurring the words.
There was no response. She looked at her phone to ensure it hadn't died.
"Yoo hoo! Did you hear me? The anklet, remember? It worked." Lauren's juices started flowing again thinking of the handsome Englishman. She let her dress fall to the floor and walked over to the chest of drawers where her ten-inch vibrator, the Chairman of the Board, lay wrapped in its protective covering. Her eyes lit up.
"Tell me about it," Corey asked breathlessly. Between this news and his prior activities, his cock was bursting at the seams.
"He's a Brit on business here in the U.S. Name's Ethan. Met him at the bar while I was waiting for a table. We were both alone, so we had dinner together. He is quite interesting."
"I see. So, he hit on you?"
"I'd say it was more of a tap at first. He was the perfect gentleman."
Corey didn't say anything.
"The jewelry was no mystery to him," she professed, breaking into a popular 70's song about a chain. "He even asked me to join him in his room for an after-dinner drink."
Lauren could hear Corey hold his breath. What a perv! She snatched the dildo from the drawer and laid down on her bedspread.
"I didn't go. He's a stranger after all."
Big exhale.
"You sound disappointed." Off came her bra and panties.
"No, you made the wise choice. Still, you wanted to go with him, didn't you, you little minx?" His cock trembled at the thought of his wife getting fucked by a stranger in a hotel room.
Hesitating only briefly, she responded loudly and with conviction, the alcohol and the spectre of Kumiho emboldening her. "Yes. Yes, I FUCKING did."
Corey walked into his house lest any neighbors with big ears were around. He heard a distinctive buzzing noise.
"Is that the Chairman?" he asked, smiling.
The response came in the form of a big sigh.
"Babe, I'm fucked up and I need to be fucked. Fucked and fucked," Lauren giggled, somehow finding that very funny. "I am soooo horny. I don't know what's come over me lately."
She's definitely ripe, Corey thought, laying down on his own bed. If only he was there. Perhaps now would be a good time to address the question that had been burning in his head.
"Who do you want to fuck?"
"You, babe. I want you!"
"I'm not there."
"Then Ethan. I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT! I just want to FUCK!" The head of the Chairman was getting slick now as Lauren rubbed it around her labia. Corey pictured her bald pussy glistening with fluids.
"You had your chance with Ethan. Maybe a blast from the past would suffice?"
Corey heard his wife gasp.
"What? Who?"
"Pauly."
An image of the mop-haired teenager on top of her caused Lauren to moan. He was not a bad lover and recalled he had quite the weapon.
"What if he was with you right now? Would you fuck him?"
Flash to the frat boy pulling a skintight condom over his skinny tool. That induced another moan from her. The Chairman began sliding into the now sopping wet hole, Lauren's canal walls closing in around it as the hard rubber made its entry.
"That...that was a long time ago," she stammered.
"But you remember it don't you? Doing the nasty with him?"
"Corey, I don't think talking..."
"Do. You. Remember?"
Lauren used her free hand to start pulling at her tiny chest. Her half-inch nipples were hard erasers now. God, they need to be sucked!
"Yes, I do."
Corey grinned. He had her.
"How nasty did you get, babe?"
Even *****, Lauren knew where this was going. How much did she want him to know? Two could play this game.
"Take your cock out, big man. Play with it for me."
"I already am."
"We got REAL nasty, babe. Is that what you want to hear? We used to fuck like rabbits!"
Lauren heard heavy breathing coming from the phone and smiled. She had him.
Corey stroked his cock. His hand, perpetually chaffed from years of construction work, slid roughly along the shaft. Out of lube, he soldiered on.
"How often?"
"Two, three times a day," she huffed, driving the Chairman deeper into her. Holding it by its base, she could now get almost six inches inside, about the length of her husband. She needed more.
Recollections of the skinny boy eating her out began to set her off.
"Ohhhhhhhh, I remember. He was very good!"
"That's it babe, let the memories come back. Where did he fuck you?"
Lauren pinched her nipples, arched her back and grunted.
"His car, his friend's house, the library stairwell. Oh, Corey we've never talked about this, but Pauly was really the one that broke me in."
Jesus fucking Christ, Corey thought. His dick felt like iron at such a revelation. He knew she was no virgin when she met Paul, but this was quite the epiphany.
"His fraternity house room?"
Two grunts, a snort, and another moan. The vibrator was sliding freely in and out of her heavily lubricated pussy, up to at least eight inches now.
"ESPECIALLY his room!" Lauren laughed, then hiccupped.
"What did you do in that dirty, dingy, messy room?"
"We fucked!"
"How? Missionary? Doggy? Standing up?"
More chuckles. "Yes, yes and yes!"
Corey pictured the young boy pile driving the young Lauren from behind, her big 80s hair flopping about. He nearly came at the thought, but had to press on. He had to know.
"Did you have company?"
"Wha...?"
"Did Pauly let his friends fuck you? Did they stand in line like you said?"
The Chairman was working overtime now. He had penetrated his quarry to nearly full length, the wetness clearly audible as the vibrator's ten inches slid in and out of the sloppy vagina. Corey stroked his cock faster.
"He did, didn't he?"
Lauren grimaced, trying to fight through her ecstasy to reply.
"Is that what you want to believe, babe? That Pauly fucked me in front of his friends? Watching as my little titty buds hung down and jiggled while he did me doggy?"
She could hear him jacking off through the small speakers in her phone. Fap, fap, fap.
"I don't know what to believe, Lauren."
"Don't play me, Corey. Your cock is in your hands right now thinking about me doing the entire frat house! It’s okay, I know it turns you on. Stroke it for me. Imagine me on all fours as one boy pulls out, another follows. Mmmm."
"I need to know," Corey pleaded. He was getting close.
"Do you want it to be true? Would you like to see a bunch of men taking me at once, filling me up? Making me scream?" Lauren was surprised how much saying that aroused her.
Both of them cried out in passion as that image sank in.
"That's so FUCKING hot!" Corey exclaimed, really cranking down on his meat now. "I see the door is left open, hear the old bedsprings squeaking in rhythm, calling out to anyone who wants a piece. As each boy finishes in you, the next one mounts."
"Oohhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Lauren screamed. "Yes! Goddamnit, please, more, more, yessssss!"
"How many now? 5? 10? 20? You lost count, didn't you, slut?"
Lauren crushed the Chairman's entire length into her accommodating pussy. The sheets between her legs were saturated.
"So many..." she whimpered.
Corey's faced contorted, barely able to contain his release. Just a little longer. Please God, Lauren first. He had to get her off.
"Your cunt is so slippery, even the largest of the boys can't come. They're going to have to nut on your pretty ***** face!"
In an instant, Lauren was transported back nearly 30 years to Pauly's dorm room. She found herself on her back staring at the ceiling, a boy she barely knew on top of her, grunting and slobbering all over her tiny tits. Her boyfriend was off to the side, smoking a joint and egging it on. Only six inches above her face, no less than three cocks were being stroked furiously by their owners, wrinkled ball sacks hanging beneath each shaft, waiting to spew their milky semen onto her body.
"Fuck, Corey...awe...awe...ohhhhhh! There's so many. I want it! I WANT ALL THEIR CUM SO MUCH!"
"Such a slut *****! Watch their cocks, the veins underneath. Are they starting to pulse?"
Lauren's head was writhing on her pillow. "Oh, yes!"
"They're getting ready to blow all over you! Are you ready?"
"GIVE IT TO ME! Plaster my body with your spunk, you filthy bastards!"
In her mind, white ropes of semen blasted from the tips of the cocks above her, while the boy plunging his tool into her pussy hollered in pleasure as he dumped his seed into her womb at the same time.
"FUCCCKKKK COREEEE I'M CUMMING! OH FUCK, I'M CUMMING!!!"
Lauren's hips bucked at the Chairman as the orgasm washed over her. It wasn't a huge, timber shaking climax, but after an evening filled with booze and sexual innuendo, it felt incredibly gratifying.
Satisfied that his wife had come, Corey now concentrated on his own apex. Lauren could hear him grunt repeatedly as his hand assaulted his cock, trying to coax out the white substance she wished she was there to take.
Turning off the slippery vibrator, she turned her focus to helping her husband come.
"That's it, baby, let it all go. Just think of all those frat boys having their way with me, taking turns pounding my pussy into a dirty, worn out mattress. Just like you'd expect from a teenage *****!"
"Awwww, Lauren! Oh my God, I'm so close..."
"Those arrogant boys dumping their cum into me, one by one! Each one thinking they're the best!"
"Yessss, oh, yes, I can see it!"
"My pussy so used, so warm and squishy."
"Oh fuck! OH FUCK! I'M THERE, I'M THERE!!!"
"WHERE ARE YOU, STUD? In the back of the line? Don't you want a piece of me? C'MON, baby, fight your way to the front and add your cum to your slut wife's cunt! EVERYBODY ELSE'S IS IN THERE!" Lauren screamed.
Corey's orgasm hit him hard. His body lurched upright in bed. Frequent masturbation had left his balls depleted, but the small amount of cum he did have came trickling out into a handkerchief. His breathing was so irregular afterward that Lauren asked him several times if he was okay.
The couple lay in their respective beds 1,500 miles apart, trying to squeeze out whatever intimacy they could over the phone. It was difficult.
"I love you, babe," Corey panted.
Lauren was still catching her own breath. "I love you too. That was fucking AWESOME," she sang out as if in celebration. Clearly, she was still inebriated.
A few minutes of phone-pillow talk later, Corey decided the elephant was still in the virtual room. He cleared his throat.
"You never answered me."
"About what?"
"Please. Don't make me beg."
Lauren smiled. She was getting sleepy. "I'm not sure you'd care for the answer, perv."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning..." her voice drifted off slowly.
Corey listened intently. It sounded like she was falling asleep. "Lauren!" he barked to keep her attention.
Lauren's eyes shot open. "Meaning you're a pervert! You get off on the thought of me sleeping with other men. You may not like what you hear, that's all."
"Which is?"
Lauren smacked her lips together. She was very thirsty. Maybe I’ll just lay here a minute, then get something to drink.
"Babe?"
She rolled her eyes. Jesus, he was persistent!
"You and Max...that was the first time...I've had more than one guy...at once. OKAY? First time!" She threw a pillow across the room at nothing in particular and laughed maniacally.
"And I fucking LOVED IT, goddammit! You hear me? I loved having more than one cock! There, is that what you wanted to hear, perv? Now I'm going to sleep. Bye bye!"
Corey leaned back against the headboard. Part of him was relieved to know his wife and mother of his children was not the community ***** back in college. Conversely, he was also aware of a dark place in him that had wanted it to be true. At least now he knew for sure. And tonight's role play with Lauren had been thoroughly stimulating for both of them. Pair that with her admittedly intoxicated comment just now, and one had to wonder what adventures could lie ahead.
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- Previous page: Ascending Lauren Ch. 05
