Averys Awakening The Hunt

This is my first attempt to publish some erotica. Long time reader, first time writer.

This is dedicated to a special stripper. Names may be changed to protect the naughty.

This is intended to be a setup for future stories, and is not the only indicator of my only set of interests and kinks.

If anyone is not interested in what this is clearly going to be about, I ask for you to please find other stories to read (I understand Literotica has several other categories).

I welcome constructive criticism as I am still finding my voice and working style.

The Harrisons' loft overlooked Manhattan's skyline, a glass-walled monument to their dual six-figure careers. Avery's midnight-blue silk robe, bought on a whim to recapture the confidence of her college cheerleading days, hung open to reveal her B-cups--once toned and perky, now softened by years of late nights and neglected workouts. Both were typing away at their laptops in their living room.

"We used to be reckless," she said softly. "Remember how we'd stay up all night, laughing, just... alive?"

Jake closed his laptop, the screen reflecting his weary eyes. "We're still us." His voice lacked conviction.

Avery's laugh was brittle. "Are we? You're always working. I'm always... this." She gestured to her body, her tone tinged with vulnerability, not anger.

Jake let out a low sigh. This had been going on for several months. The passion had been gone. The trip to The Velvet Lounge, a high end strip club, for a friend's bachelor's party, several months ago certainly didn't help

Avery opened a browser tab on her laptop titled "Swinging Partners NYC", her fingers hovering over profiles. Jake watched, uneasy but curious, to see what Avery was up to.

The first profile was a dominatrix in stilettos, her bio dripping with threats of "bondage and punishment."

"Too extreme," Jake muttered.

Avery smirked. "Perfect. Let's message her."

Their first attempt fizzled when the dominatrix demanded $10k upfront and insisted on calling Jake "her pet." Jake grimaced. "No."

Next came a submissive housewife--a lawyer by day, she wrote, who'd "beg for humiliation in public parks." Jake recoiled. Avery found her desperation pathetic.

Then there were the duds: the gym-rat dentist, the bored house husband. Each profile was a mirror of their own emptiness.

But then WickedDreamz20's profile appeared.

Title

: A Spark of Chaos

Photo

: Backlit by neon, her athletic curves were a feast--toned legs from pole dancing, a sculpted waist, and voluptuous D-cup breasts straining against a sheer lace bra. Her face was blurred, but her posture screamed confidence.

Description:

"No vanilla. No clinging. I crave power dynamics, role-play, and people who are as willing as I am. (I'm flexible--within limits.)"

Caption

: "Warning: I don't play nice. My clients either crave control... or beg for it."

Avery looks at Jake, but even without his permission reaches out to WickedDreamz20.

AVERY: "We're a married couple seeking a third party for play. Discreet. Financially stable. What's your rate?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "Rate depends on your willingness to please me. Send photos. No faces. I need to see if you're worthy."

Jake hesitated, this was moving much faster than he was expecting, but let Avery send his photo first--topless, his face hidden, his gym-toned torso visible, including a past scar across his chest from his days playing football.

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "He's built. Good. I like men who are in shape and have stamina"

Avery sent her own shot: lace veil obscuring her face, her more petite body, and smaller B-cups breasts framed by the silk robe.

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "You're... soft. But I'll let you stay."

AVERY: "What's your style?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "I set the tone. The rules. Follow them or I will leave."

WICKEDDREAMZ20 demanded a non-refundable deposit, as an indication of their sincerity. Both Avery and Jake looked at each other, acknowledging to each other that this would be crossing a line, and neither knew what it would bring. Jake clicked submit, sending $2k to someone he didn't even know.

JAKE: "Why so much scrutiny?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "I've been burnt before. I like to make sure that I know that my partners are serious. I trust you've given me enough to ensure you won't betray me."

JAKE: "What... what do you want from me?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "Proof you've still got the stamina you used to. Or are you just another

husband

who's lost his edge?"

AVERY: "When can we meet?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "Tomorrow. 8 PM. Terms: At your place. Send me your address and access codes. I don't do hotels. I trust you've shown me enough to ensure you'll keep your end of the deal. Make sure to dress appropriately.You both will be competing for my attention."

Avery logs off, and she cuddles in to Jake for the first time in a while. Avery's fingers lingering on Jake's chest. "Remember when we'd stay up all night, laughing?"

Jake pulled her closer, his voice softer. "We're still us. This is just... an experiment."

"It's not about replacing us," Avery said, her voice cracking. "It's about remembering how to feel."

Avery's robe slipped off her shoulder, revealing the faint scar on her collarbone from a cheerleading stunt gone wrong. Jake traced it absently. "You were so fierce back then."

"And you were the quarterback who'd carry me off the field," she smiled weakly. "Now I'm just... Avery."

He kissed her temple. "You're still her. You're just... quieter. Let's bring old you back out"

Jake's mind flickered to the bachelor party--a sleek club, crystal chandeliers, the scent of champagne. A dancer's wavy chestnut hair brushed his neck as she whispered, "You're so tense." Her fingers grazed his thigh, her confidence a stark contrast to his midlife malaise.

The lap dance ended with a kiss, peppermint-sweet, lingering on his lips. She pulled back, her green eyes glinting. "Come back if you want more, you'll remember" she murmured, her voice a dare.

He never did.

Brought back to the real world by a kiss on the cheek from Avery, they moved to bed, the loft silent except for the hum of the fridge. Avery's hands traced Jake's abs, her touch lingering on the scar from his college football days.

"Remember how you used to pin me against the wall?" she whispered. "Like we were in college?"

Jake kissed her, his hands gripping her hips. For a moment, they were in their twenties again--Avery's cheerleader confidence, his quarterback vigor. But the memory faded. His thrusts were urgent, desperate to recapture what they'd lost.

Avery arched beneath him, her silk robe pooling around her, revealing the faint scar on her collarbone. Jake's fingers brushed it, and she shuddered--not from pain, but from the memory of that stunt, the crowd's roar, the adrenaline that once made her feel alive. Now, her body felt flaccid, her movements sluggish.

"Harder," she urged, her voice trembling. "Like you used to."

Jake complied, his thrusts rougher, his hands kneading her pert breasts like he was trying to reshape them. Her breath hitched as he bit her neck, his teeth grazing the spot where her pulse raced. Too soft, she thought, both of us too soft.

"Look at me," she demanded, clawing at his shoulders.

He did--his eyes dark, but distant. She swore she saw her there, in the flicker of his gaze: the dancer's chestnut hair, the promise of stamina, of edge.

"Jake," Avery gasped, her hips rising to meet Jake's. "Please." Avery's voice had an edge of hunger and need that was not there before.

But he was already elsewhere. His mind flickered to the Velvet Lounge, the dancer's curvy body straining against her costume, the way she'd laughed as she'd kissed him--"You'll remember this".

Avery's nails dug into his back, dragging Jake back to the present, leaving red crescents. She'd never been this aggressive, this needy. The robe fell away completely in their needy, desperate, coupling, her legs trembling as she wrapped them around his waist. "Now," she hissed, "like we used to."

Jake's thrusts deepened, primal now, but his rhythm lacked the precision of their past. She felt him withdraw, felt the gap between them--a chasm of years, of missed connections, of the dancer's whispered words.

"Cum for me," she pleaded, her voice raw. "Cum."

He froze. What if I can't? What if she's right?

Avery's hand closed around his hefty shaft, guiding him back inside. Her touch was frantic, almost punishing as stroked him. "Do it," she whispered, her words a challenge.

Jake drove back inside of Avery's folds, and pounded aggressively, pushing for his own pleasure. He was wanting to try to prove to Avery that she was what he needed, but the images in his head came unbidden. He climaxed hard, his release a mix of relief and guilt. Avery's orgasm was quieter, a shuddering surrender--not enough, never enough.

Across town, Skye, the woman behind WICKEDDREAMZ20, smirked at their photos on her phone. The husband's scar? Familiar. The wife's vulnerability?

Perfect

. She'd seen countless couples like them--empty, desperate, and rich.

Skye spent the night working her OnlyFans account, where she entertained any number of people trying to buy her attention. She was able to be picky, and usually subjected those that sought her attention to intense demands.

Client 7: "How much for a private request?"

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "Depends. How badly do you want it?"

Client 7: "I need it... Princess.."

WICKEDDREAMZ20: "Good boy. Send me a gift and I will let you have the privilege of my commands."

The Harrisons' deposit into her anonymous account was still on the screen.

Goldmines

, she smirked.

Back at the Harrison's, they fell asleep entwined, limbs disjointly tangled together.

Avery dreamed of WickedDreamz20's typed words: "Compete."

Jake dreamed of The Velvet Lounge', the mystery stripper's lips brushing his: "You'll remember this."

Neither slept well.