Apologies for taking so long to continue this saga. Like many others, SARS has taken its toll on our writing family. Strength has been zapped for months, which, of course, robs us of motivation.
To that end, the "raven-haired and much prettier" half of our team, who has recovered better than an old fart, has taken pen in hand to move this storyline along. As such, some may detect a slightly different writing style.
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. They are an amalgamation of real anecdotal events from our relationships, with a heavy dose of embellishment. For those realists out there: no, none of these things would happen to one couple in such a short amount of time. It's fictionalized non-fiction. Get over it.
Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold/group sex/interracial topics. This story is tagged as such, so if you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.
We intentionally have comments turned off. We write to make people happy, to hopefully entertain. We do not want our digital exhaust to be a vehicle for the negativity that Literotica comments have become notorious for. Turning off public comments is our small way of helping not to propagate hate. Have something to constructive to say? PM us.
Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey.
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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December 1st. Three months to go.
December saw a flurry of activity in the Miller's separate but ever-connected lives. With the hospital complex 90% complete and a February ribbon cutting looming, Corey and the other project managers were working overtime to ensure crews were meeting deadlines and avoiding penalties. In Florida, Rekrap Industries had their own worries, mainly around supply chain shortages. The fiberglass manufacturer faced issues procuring natural minerals used to make the product and delays resulted in very irate customers. Lauren's office staff had been enlisted to reach out and head off any potential defections to other suppliers. That made for a lot of boring lunch meetings and late-night dinners, yet all felt the extra effort would be worth it if it meant keeping business relationships alive.
All this extra effort left little time for a long-distance marriage. A few texts here and there with maybe a quick call at night was the most the lonely husband and busy wife could squeeze in. Neither had broached the subject of the "Ashley Date", though it certainly was still prominent in their minds. In the days following that memorable Thanksgiving weekend, Corey had used an entire bottle of lube while picturing his wife and best friend rolling around on a worn-out mattress in a flea-bag motel. Likewise, Lauren could not shake the incredible memories from that night, frequently employing her ten-inch vibrator to revisit how Zane Picardo drove his impressive tool deep inside her, resulting in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.
Although bringing a friend like Zane into their ever-expanding experiences was certainly a big step, that wasn't what bothered Corey the most. Hell, he might as well have put the biker's dick in Lauren himself. Rather, it was the fact that someone so close now knew their secret. It was one thing for strangers to be aware, but there was altogether good reason to keep it quiet in their own hometown. While Corey was growing more comfortable with his kink every day, there was still an undeniable stigma attached to the genre. Call men like him a cuckold, stag, or just a voyeur, somehow a man couldn't be a man if he drew pleasure from his wife sleeping with others.
Of course, mainstream society used to say something similarly foolish about gays. A man couldn't be a
real
man if he sucked dick. Fortunately, most people now saw the fallacy of these phobias, but like the LGBTQ movement, polygamous relationships still had a lot to overcome. As such, the practice wasn't really something one could divulge outside certain circles without risking unpredictable consequences. Thankfully, most liberal minds simply shrugged it off as live and let live, but others severely derided it, usually without cause. Even some who secretly masturbated late at night to erotic literature, those who should be more tolerant of alternative lifestyles, somehow found it necessary to continually ridicule personal choices. This weighed heavily on Corey, and not knowing which camp Zane was in, kept him from picking up the phone and calling his best friend.
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With Christmas only weeks away, Lauren used what precious free time she had to scour Miami's downtown shops for just the right gifts. There she found funky clothing for the free-spirited Caroline, a designer handbag for the practical Amelia (who'd never buy it for herself), and the latest French perfume for her new Magic City friend and coworker, Amy Rosinner. The only challenge now was to find the perfect gift for the one man whose heart she held closest. But what? Being the memory maker for the family, Corey might enjoy a new camera. He was an avid photographer, after all. Or maybe some scuba diving gear for daytrips to the Keys?
The Iowan beauty rolled her eyes and chuckled softly while meandering through the never-ending corridor of a downtown mall.
But did the perv deserve a gift at all?
Although the bitterness had subsided, Lauren was still a little miffed at Corey for filming her in Jack's penthouse. Granted, it wasn't so much the video itself - she was the last one who should be judging morality - but damnit, he could have at least asked permission. They were all so drunk, no one would have cared, and he probably could have joined in, though Lauren knew his preference these days was to watch.
Far, far worse was their daughter Caroline finding the incriminating evidence. What a dumbass! Who leaves a thing like that on their desktop? What could be worse than a daughter seeing her mother's sex tape? With multiple partners, no less...none of whom were her father. It was one of those things that can't be unseen, and if it didn't scar the youngest Miller for life, it would
most assuredly
change how she viewed her parents.
Why hadn't Lauren pulled the plug on Corey's fantasies right then and assured her daughter it was all over? Wouldn't most parents immediately end any controversial behavior upon their kids learning of it?
What does that say about me?
Oddly, beyond the initial shock, Caroline had exhibited unusual calm. Nor had she asked them to stop.
That was kind of weird
. True, Corey had interrupted their conversation that day before they had a chance to finish, but something told Lauren that Caroline wasn't as upset about her mother screwing other people as she was about it potentially hurting her father. Once she knew Dad was onboard, her demeanor changed. In fact, since then, none of their conversations even touched on the incident, like it never happened. Very odd for her to just let that go. These days, as a licensed therapeutic counselor, Caroline
was
trained to view sexuality with a clinical eye. But seeing your mom getting drilled like a two-bit whore and knowing your father was a booster? Thank God, the girl had agreed to stay mum. Knowing his sweet little princess was aware of his nasty little penchant would surely send Corey to an early grave.
Still, with all the disappointment at her jerk-of-a-husband's stupid attempt at pornography, a pang of compassion tugged her heartstrings. She knew all too well what it was like to weather an Iowa winter, and how tough it would be for her to spent weeks on end, whiling away lonely hours, wondering what
he
was doing. How depressing it must be for him to call, just to find that she was at a club, out sailing, or frolicking on the beach. How harsh was it to learn the of fun she was having sipping wine at the pool deck, while he watched a blizzard dump a half-foot of snow that he would eventually have to shovel?
Then there was the seemingly perpetual hall pass. Corey had guided her down this path, so it should come as no surprise that, reluctant as Lauren was initially, she had now fully embraced it...and then some. At first, of course, she was shy about the whole thing, almost embarrassed. Now? Well, she rather enjoyed her newfound love for sex, and teasing him was a lot of fun too, although she was sometimes confused on how far to take it.
Originally, he claimed it was all about compersion, about her receiving the pleasure he could no longer give her. Then he began showing an affinity for teasing and humiliation, something she had researched but didn't really understand. Case in point, it sometimes seemed as if Corey actually
enjoyed
being separated by 1,500 miles, where he had no control over what she did or who she saw. Did the long-distance veneer over her everyday life, and the helpless feeling it extolled, add to his twisted pleasure? So strange if that was true.
All things considered though, it was hard to begrudge the poor man's very real need for a distraction. Lauren understood deep down that that video -- as underhanded as it was - had acted as a proxy for being with her when he could not physically be.
That's why giving him the perfect gift this year was more important than ever.
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Corey was pulling out of the construction yard after a long dusty day when his boss came running out of the trailer office and held up a hand. Stopping, the project manager rolled down the driver's window and waved back.
"Something wrong, Chief?"
"Listen," Haul Carew said breathlessly. "You got a line on any work down there yet?"
"Haven't really had a chance to look."
"Doesn't surprise me, being here from sunup to sundown most days."
