This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more. Subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold topics and group sex. If you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.
Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey, but is not a requirement.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.
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The Millers knew they were changing. Changing as partners, lovers, and individuals. Five months prior, when Lauren left for Miami, they swore the 1,500 miles between them would not alter their relationship. Corey would remain in Iowa, finish his construction project, then join his wife of 28 years for a blissful life in sunny South Florida. They would simply pick up where they had left off.
Yet every night now, as each lay alone in their respective beds, they knew nothing could be further from the truth. Not the way things were now. Not with Lauren's newfound sexuality. Since coming to Miami, she had slowly acquiesced to Corey's burgeoning kink without fully understanding where that would take them. At first, it was simply a matter of placating her husband. Then it evolved, and now Lauren herself was beginning to embrace the transformation in ways not anticipated by either. The couple didn't think of it in terms of a "lifestyle" or any of the myriad labels people tried to tag it with: cuckold, stag, vixen, swinger. They only knew each had changed in a way neither had imagined possible.
Shy Lauren was now the aggressor in many ways. Her traditionally conservative makeup and clothing had given way to an edgier, provocative appearance. A once passive lover, she was now surprisingly raucous in bed. Her husband's own hand had shown the 48-year-old beauty that men still found her quite desirable. This ignited her inner lust, and as Corey was quickly learning, that itch was a genie not easily put back in its bottle.
Of course, Corey had changed as well. With Lauren's willingness to experiment, he now felt emboldened to further encourage the journey. Eleven years her senior, he genuinely wanted her remaining prime years to be sexually fulfilling, a feat the graying 61-year-old with an expanding waistline could no longer accomplish. As noble as that was,
his
gratification was driven by a much darker reward: the craving for the compersion that accompanied her exploits, and the cocktail of emotions when thinking of his wife making love to another. Much of this he kept to himself because he didn't feel Lauren would or could understand. Little ancillary things. Like how to explain while he didn't care for outright humiliation, he was inexplicably turned on by watching her enjoy sex with a more proficient lover. This then indirectly called attention to his aging inadequacies, which in itself was a form of humiliation. For years, fantasizing only scraped the surface of these and other feelings, but now, having experienced them firsthand, he too had a genie that could never again be bottled.
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Fall in Miami is quite different from Iowa. Palm trees do not turn pretty colors and people do not huddle around roaring fires on frosty nights roasting marshmallows. Living in the Midwest her entire life, Lauren felt a tinge of sadness as Halloween approached. No more long Sunday drives in the country admiring the changing landscape. No nose-tingling aroma from wood-burning fireplaces wafting through the neighborhood.
As it turned out, drinking white wine was a pretty good way to drown these sorrows, and Lauren was making good progress in that respect. As she sat around the rooftop pool deck for her apartment building's Thirsty Thursdays happy hour, she was just glad to be off work. Her good friend and coworker Amy Rosinner had accompanied her to the event to unwind after a long day, and the young blonde secretary patiently listened as the office manager waxed nostalgic. After sinking their first round, she walked to the pool bar for a refill. With no bartender that night, the management had simply set out bottles of chilled wine and champagne in a decorative tub for residents to help themselves to a glass. Instead of a single pour, she grabbed an entire bottle and returned to the table.
"How's Corey doing?" Amy asked, popping the cork.
"He's lonely," Lauren replied with a long face. "The girls and I are headed back to see him over the Thanksgiving holiday. That will cheer him up. And the main construction will be done by February."
"It will be nice to have him down here. I think you get a bit lonely too."
"I do, in spite of his attempts at helping me make friends."
Amy cocked her head. "Yeah? How's that?"
Lauren told her about his gift a few weeks prior. It was good to share that with someone.
A
hotwife
anklet?" the younger woman repeated, leaning across the wobbly cast iron table. The 26-year-old was quite plugged into the sexual trends of the day and immediately recognized the significance. "I know you guys experimented a couple times, but now he wants to make it official or something? Bold move."
"I thought so too."
Lauren pulled her chair closer and glanced around. "It gets crazier, though" she whispered.
The wife and mother of two proceeded to tell her friend about the night she wore the suggestive jewelry, which resulted in some heavy flirting.
"And?" Amy prodded. She loved a juicy story.
"And nothing. He asked me back to his hotel room, I got cold feet, end of story. But that's not all," Lauren hinted. "After dinner I ran into Stephan Jones and his wife. Yeah,
that
Jones, our CEO. Like, literally crashed into them when leaving the restaurant. He saw me with Ethan and knew the guy wasn't my husband. When Jones saw the chain, he put two and two together. Amy, I might as well of had "floozy" tattooed across my forehead. I mean, he
knew!
"
The blonde frowned, sensing Lauren's distress. "Do you think he'll say anything?"
"I...I don't know. He said he wouldn't. But I can't let my husband's fetish get me fired."
Amy noted the irony in her friend's statement. She needed to tread lightly.
"Um, look, you know I love you, right? The way I see it, Corey has idiosyncrasies. There's no denying it. There's also no denying that while it took some time for you to warm up to his...
ideas
, you seem to be all in now. Hell, you don't need
jewelry
for guys to know you're open to hooking up. Look at how much you've changed since getting here. Your makeup and the way you dress clearly already send that message. I'm not judging, I'm a bit slutty myself. But that's
me.
I've always been this way. Even people at work have noticed the change in you. And remember, it wasn't your husband that arranged the cruise with Max. It wasn't he who willingly went to Tommy's apartment. Corey didn't fasten the anklet around your ankle. Point is, I don't think you can put
all
the blame on hubby anymore, do you?".
Lauren's eyes began to water. She knew Amy was right. It was all true.
"You know," the blonde said quickly, trying to break the tension, "Jones seems like he might have been a player in his day. Who knows? Maybe he still is, just a shriveled up old one."
Both women laughed nervously. After wiping away a tear, Lauren confessed she was more than a little concerned about the changes.
"I don't know what's happening to me. Back in Iowa my libido was at an all-time low, Corey had to pester me for sex, and when we did make love, I was so dry. Only a well-lubed piece of rubber could bring me to orgasm. Now, sex is all I think about, I get wet when the wind blows, and I find myself having some weird urges. Like a nymphomaniac or something." Lauren thought of mentioning her fascination with the spirit Kumiho but decided against it.
A faint smile crept across Amy's face. At her age and single, she was horny ALL the time and didn't see that as a problem.
"Awe, honey," she sympathized, "I think you just forgot what it's like to be young and fucked. Not your fault, not Corey's, not anyone's. I'm sure you wouldn't trade the life you've built with your family for all the sex in the world. But being horny isn't the issue. To me it seems your passion bolt was jammed. With the rust gone now, how far you turn it is up to you."
"And my husband," Lauren pointed out.
"There is that dynamic, yes," the young woman conceded. "He's
really
into you hooking up with other guys, isn't he?"
The executive peered into her wine glass. "I guess we all have our peculiarities."
Amy picked her glass up and clinked it against her friend's. "And now you have yours."
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Lauren woke the next morning sweating profusely. It took her a moment to realize she had only been dreaming. The images seemed so real. Two faceless men using her as their plaything, taking what they wanted right there in her own bed. Hard, muscular bodies contributed to multiple orgasms, but none as much as the finale when they unloaded their seed on her face.
She shook the fog of sleep off and looked at the time. Six thirty in the morning. No time to relieve herself. Even a cold shower was not helpful. After dressing for work she caught a glimpse of the small white box containing the anklet from her husband. The sight did little to extinguish the fire that was smoldering between Lauren's legs. Corey had given her that chain for a reason, and tonight she may have to put it to use.
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The licentious desires did not abate during the day. At least once Lauren considered stealing away to the privacy of the ladies' room to douse the steam. Returning home that evening, she was as horny as she'd ever been. It took great willpower not to pull The Chairman out and relieve herself right then.
A great debate raged in her head. Should she resist the urge and stay home? Or hit the bars like a tramp? Five months ago, her Midwestern sensibilities would have easily won that argument, but tonight, she could not shake the lure of a strange cock impaling her without mercy. Lauren decided to skip dinner. Tonight, she was craving far more than food.
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Corey answered his phone on the first ring. He was in his truck traveling to the local high school to meet some old friends for a big Friday night football game between two rival teams. Not the most exciting way to spend an evening, but he was up for anything that got him out of the house.
Lauren listened without much interest as he described the difference in playing styles between the two schools. Eventually she flat out interrupted him. "I'm going out tonight. I need a drink."
"Girls' night out?" Corey asked as he pulled into the school's parking lot.
Lauren sat down at the vanity and began applying makeup. "No, just me."
