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. 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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Lauren Miller stared at the dark television screen, mentally projecting images of the prior evening into the fifty-five-inch reflection. She'd been this way since awakening a mere five hours after Hunter's birthday limousine had dropped her off.
Tiny dancer
. A vision of the exotic entertainer brought a smile to the Iowan wife. Longing for a Midwestern fall, "Autumn" had certainly come in unexpected ways. The brief masturbation with friend and coworker Amy Rosinner aside, last night had been her first hands-on experience with another woman, albeit contrived and paid for. Those few minutes with the stripper made her realize there was something intoxicating about the softness of a woman's touch and the taste of another's lipstick. There was definitely more to sex than just intercourse.
House mom?
Close to 50, Lauren's entire body ached from being tossed around like a rag doll by those frat boys. Not just the obvious areas either, but legs, arms and elbows. At the time it was pure pleasure, but today, a chiropractor's dream. Why did she do it? No real reason besides being drunk and horny. It would be easy to blame it on Corey's kink, take an "I did it for you" stance, but that would be nonsense. She went looking to get laid and laid she got. Pure and simple. It
just happened
to mirror a similar fantasy her husband had shared. Go figure. What about Tommy? Was she surprised he "kissed and tattled" to his fraternity brother? Not really. Did he brag? Was she as good as the younger coeds? Probably not.
Like a rag doll.
Was the complete submission to Tony and friends really what turned her on now? Before Miami, Lauren was passive in bed, content to let Corey and the few boys before him take control. But none had been excessive and certainly not like last night. Sex with those college kids was the first time she'd actually felt used like a whore.
And God help her, she loved it.
The proposition
. She only had herself to blame for being mistaken for a prostitute. Look like a duck, get treated like a duck. The thing was, in Iowa she would have been mortified to be thought of that way. Now, it simply triggered a dark part of her that found sex-for-a-fee very erotic.
Corey
. Why hadn't her husband called? They usually had a conversation every Saturday morning, but other than him acknowledging her text when she got home last night, there had been nothing. He clearly enjoyed what he saw, but had she somehow crossed the line, even for his demented mind? Unlikely, given the nature of his kink.
That
line was surely crossed weeks ago. Corey was hard to read nowadays, but Lauren chalked that up to the long-distance relationship. It had been nearly eight weeks since his last visit and she missed him a great deal. In fact, during recent weak moments, she had implored him to quit his job in Iowa, sell the house, and
just move, damnit!
But she knew that would not be good for his career. The damage to his reputation could be irreparable if he abandoned a major construction project in its final phase.
Life before Miami.
What became of Lauren, the softball coach and dance mom? The girl who baked cookies for the church and volunteered for blood drives? The devoted Des Moines wife who swore an oath to a man who not only doted on her, but their daughters as well? Even though she married right out of college, she knew Corey was the man for her. The 11-year age difference was not an issue then, and outside the bedroom, not an issue now. They had a good partnership, evidenced by 28 years of marriage and two children - and still going strong.
What of the girlfriends she left behind? At first, they would talk every weekend, catching up on this and that. Then they began running out of things to say, being so far removed from each other's lives. Now they rarely talked.
Life in Miami.
She'd only made one real friend. Amy was fun, considerate, and a good confidant. All other acquaintances were neighbors or random guys who hit on her. And yeah, a few lovers. But truly, life without Corey and the kids was mundane, given the number of hours she worked. In fact, without the occasional dalliance - something her deranged husband encouraged - life would be downright dull. In her mind, these assignations actually helped alleviate some of the depression she would otherwise feel sitting alone in her apartment. Despite the sexual adventures, she was literally counting the days until Corey and she could be together once again.
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Lauren went to bed early that evening. After a forgettable frozen dinner, it was nine-thirty and she simply wanted to end the day. Corey still had not called, nor had he answered the two text messages she'd sent. It wasn't that he was injured in a ditch somewhere in Iowa. One of their daughters, Caroline, had confirmed speaking to him earlier in the evening and all seemed fine. So, what then?
As the remote shut down the bedroom TV, the phone rang unexpectedly.
Corey
.
"Hey," she answered nonchalantly, trying not to reveal too much concern.
"Hey, yourself."
"Are you okay? You usually call me earlier."
"I figured you'd be wiped out from last night," Corey deadpanned.
"Are you mad at me?" Lauren asked, her voice showing some anxiety.
"No. I just needed time to think."
Oh boy, here it comes.
"I spent the whole day thinking about your little adventure. Not sure how I felt at first."
Lauren bit her lip apprehensively. She knew it; she'd gone too far. Time for damage control.
"Babe, I'm sorry. Weeks ago, I told you the switch had been turned on...you flipped it yourself...and we didn't know when, or if, it could ever be turned off. Maybe we should, you know, kill this "thing" before it kills
us.
Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed our little adventure too. But maybe it's time to end it."
Corey sighed. Despite the miles between them, and oddly enough, the subject at hand, he could not help but soften. She was willing to go back to the way things were, even after tasting what things could be,
should be
. That spoke volumes.
"
As I was saying
, I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about three cocks unloading on my wife in the back of a limo."
"And?"
"Then I jerked off to the whole thing. Like,
four or five times
Lauren. Jesus, babe, that was hot as fuck. I can't believe you did that on your own."
A sense of relief washed over her.
Thank God he isn't angry.
Yet those boys taunted him last night. It should have been devastating to his ego. Did that mean his kink was growing and evolving in a niche direction? Sort of like her burgeoning delectation of submission?
"Actually it was four," Lauren corrected him sheepishly.
There was momentary silence on the other end.
"Four? When you hung up after...ah, Tony...I figured you'd go home. There were only three of them in the car."
"That's not really true."
More silence. She could almost hear the light bulb go on in her husband's head.
"Oh my God, Lauren, you didn't."
"I didn't have a choice."
"We always have choices."
Lauren cleared her throat. "When the driver dropped me off, he saw the...mess...on the velour seats and he was
really pissed.
I guess it fell on him to clean it up. Started yelling about extra charges and telling Hunter's parents. So, I...you know...smoothed it over."
A long, low moan came through the speaker.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're incorrigible. That gets you worked up, doesn't it, perv?"
"Mmm. Tell me how."
"Corey, it only lasted like five min..."
"Tell me!"
Jesus, he's warped
. "So, the driver was ranting that puke was one thing, but this was something entirely different, how he didn't get paid to clean up bodily fluids, blah, blah. After letting him vent, I grabbed my clutch and told him I'd pay for any charges.
"He looked at me a little weird at first, then told me the card processor was in the front. When he slid behind the wheel to get it, I jumped in the front passenger seat next to him. After telling me there was a $200 cleaning charge, he asked me how I'd like to pay. You know what I told him, babe?"
"Debit?"
"You're funny," Lauren chuckled. "I didn't say anything. Just leaned over and unzipped his pants. You should have seen his face."
The rapid breathing from the speakerphone was clearly audible.
"Are you playing with yourself, Twisty? Are you twisting that dick hard?"
Corey didn't answer, he just moaned. "Did that turn you on?"
"Not exactly. He wasn't very good-looking, and I had just been, well...so, no. It was all very transactional. Once he nodded, I got on my knees, leaned over the center console, fished his penis out, and sucked it into my mouth."
Corey gasped through his euphoria. "No rubber?"
"I know, I know. Was fresh out. It's not like I carry a box around. I do hope none of the doormen from my building saw me bobbing up and down in this guy's lap in the driveway."
Lauren heard the sounds of her husband's hands tugging at his dick.
Fap, fap, fap
.
"You...you said five minutes. He didn't last long?"
"Hardly. He'd probably been listening to us. When he was ready, I clamped my lips down around the head and just let him blow."
"You've never let