Ascending Lauren

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.

Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold/group sex 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.

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. Anything depicted has no relation to past or current people and events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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Special note: the next few chapters attempt to chronicle a period of time when the real life Lauren and some of her girlfriends went off the rails and pretty much fucked anything that moved. It is a time when they not only cucked their husbands hard, but also had encounters which many of them are not proud of today. Please keep in mind their 'slut years' did indeed happen over a period of years, and therefore must be condensed to fit within the timelines of this fable. As such, only a few of their stories can be told here.

This particular episode goes out to the couple whose tale it tells (you know who you are and we love you). Lauren and I will be waiting for that phone call and our rewards.

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February 1st. Three weeks to go.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."

The captain's calm voice lilted over the intercom like an old friend.

"Welcome aboard flight 1977. We apologize for delays, but as I'm sure you know by now, the Midwest was hit with a substantial winter storm overnight and we had to let that push off to the east. I'm not sure why anyone would want to leave sunny Miami for the frozen tundra that is Iowa right now, but since you've chosen to do so, Captain Pierson and I will make sure you get there safely. Our flight time is around three hours and forty-five minutes, which puts us in Des Moines about ten-thirty. We'll give you an updated forecast as we get closer. Flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff."

Lauren Miller sighed. Yes, trading sunshine and seventy-degrees for ice and snow

was

ludicrous, yet the purpose of her trip was clear. First and foremost, to help pack ahead of selling the house. Soon the realtor would begin aggressively marketing it and they had to be ready to vacate upon being sold. Second, she felt the need to test her husband, Corey. In just a few weeks he'd be moving in, and assuming their current lifestyle continued, Lauren needed to know just how far she could push without breaking him. It was for his own good, really. He had started all this, and it was clear there was no going back to a vanilla couple. Her reward, of course, was the great sex and knowing Corey's fetish was satiated.

His

prize, though, was more complex. A strong leader publicly, he'd slowly morphed into quite the beta behind closed doors. And this, as she found after tons of research, was completely normal for men with his kink in positions of power. There was myriad of reasons why an otherwise powerful alpha would get off by relinquishing control and being sexually humbled, but it didn't matter why. Corey himself couldn't explain it and she stopped trying to understand. While it was true their sexual appetites had changed, at the end of the day, it was still him and her against the world, as it had been for the last thirty years. Meeting his emotional and physical needs were of utmost importance, even if it seemed cruel to outsiders as she drove him to a precipice of pleasurable misery. Living apart, there was little opportunity to administer aftercare, so that had to change. Especially if things went as planned.

But first, she needed to know how far he

wanted

to be pushed and challenged. She knew he still liked to make love to her, but there were also indications he just preferred to watch. And that was okay. Although she liked the intimacy it brought, actual sex with Corey anymore was mediocre at best. No surprises really, given his age. Beyond watching, he also showed signs of savoring the humiliation aspect so many cuckolds craved. On one level, this disturbed her, mainly because it was hard to be mean to someone you loved. But she'd gotten past the reluctance by reading up on the fetish and all its flavors. If his psyche could take it and it truly got him off, where was the harm? Besides, it was a bit of good fun for her too, seeing him wallow in the bed he'd made.

Lauren smiled as the plane rose through the clouds. If only her husband knew of the plans to raise the bar, to elevate and enable his predilection, he may not be so eagerly awaiting her arrival.

+++++

Corey Miller leaned against the master bedroom doorjamb in the couple's soon-to-be sold suburban home, arms folded and beaming. Two hours prior, he had met his wife at Des Moines International, sighing with relief upon touchdown. An overnight winter storm had left many flights in limbo, but eventually most had been able to get through. As he inched closer to passenger pick up, he smiled and she waved back, acknowledging his presence, but not quite able to reach him. One hand each on a rolling suitcase, Lauren looked good, rocking hip-hugging dark brown corduroy low-rises, a black leather belt with silver double grommets -- a nod to their heavy metal days -- and a blue jeans jacket draped over a beige turtleneck sweater. Hardly dressed for Iowa in February, all her warm clothes were in garment bags back at the house. And although it'd only been a month since he'd seen her last, she looked different. Again. Seemed there was a change every time they were away from each other.

Shivering by the time luggage was stowed and she pulled herself into the cab, Lauren turned up the old truck's heater as far as it would go. For several moments, Corey could only sit there in the middle of traffic, taken aback at his wife's appearance when she pecked him on the cheek. Still absolutely stunning, the makeup was even heavier, darker than he'd remembered. Sluttier, if that was possible.

Really

slutty. A result, no doubt, of her running with a younger crowd.

"What?" she had asked, buttoning up the thin jacket, seemingly oblivious to the reason behind his pause.

"Nothing."

Deciding against saying anything, he put the pickup in drive and pulled away. What would be the point?

"Just glad to have you back home."

+++++

And home she was now, unpacking and fussing about how the house looked with moving boxes everywhere.

"A bit messy, yes, but

you

look great," Corey complimented his prodigal wife, caressing her arms as she hung up clothing bought for the reunion. "Different makeup?" he fished. There, he'd said it.

Lauren smiled. "A new line that's all the rage down south." She turned into his arms and gave him a more proper greeting, kissing him for a good thirty seconds without coming up for air.

Sluts R Us?

Corey thought humorously.

Her hands squeezed his biceps. "You been working out?"

"As a matter of fact," he puffed out his chest and curled his arms, "yes. Zane's been helping me train."

"I'm so glad you boys are hanging out again. It would be a sin to breakup decades of friendship over...you know..."

"You?"

Lauren scrunched her nose in annoyance and shot her husband a playful look as she rearranged her closet. "And who's idea, pray tell, was that?"

Corey held his hands up in surrender and backed away. Spying a pair of black leather combat boots with metal studs, he tried to sneak a peek at the shimmering dress it was paired with. Lauren slapped his hand away before he could see beneath the thin opaque protective plastic.

"That's for this weekend," she barked, shooing him away. "Now, how about making us some drinks?"

+++++

Lauren finished and placed the empty suitcases in the hallway closet. Moving to join Corey downstairs, she looked over the banister and onto the first floor of the beloved house. The sight of the for-sale sign in the front yard had caused tears to well up in her eyes. Little wonder. This is where she'd raised her kids, lived, loved, and cried countless times. Letting her fingers trace the railing while descending to the foyer, imagined voices from distant memories called out to her. There was the family portrait hanging on the wall alongside the staircase. Below, on a credenza, Amelia and Caroline's soccer pictures seemed to talk, retelling stories of that glorious goal. On the piano, a large ten-by-twelve of her and Corey's wedding day, full of hope for a prosperous life together. And there...there on a door frame, came the sawing sounds of the pocketknife that was used to notch a height mark for every year of the girls' growth. Well, through junior high anyway, when they discovered boys and suddenly thought the practice to be too babyish.

In the kitchen were yet more reminders of a life that seemed insignificant then. The table where she'd strategized softball games with other coaches, planned bake sales, discussed bills, and listened to years of high school heartbreak stories.

Had it really only been seven months since she'd moved?

It seemed like forever. And as nostalgic as these things were, Lauren couldn't imagine being those same people again. And not just because everyone was older.

Corey walked in, handed her a martini, and frowned. There was no mistaking the melancholy showing on that pretty face.

"It's difficult, isn't it?" he empathized, gathering her into his arms.

Lauren nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, holding him tight, tears running down her cheeks. Thank God she had this man. He was her one constant...her rock. She could get through anything if she had him.

"Hey, sexy," Corey lifted her chin, kissing her soulfully. "How'd you like to help me pack the basement?"

+++++

Across town, the motorcycle repair shop Zane Picardo worked for was without power, knocked out by an earlier storm. Taking advantage of the time, he decided to pick up his house. It hadn't had a good cleaning since the divorce, and he wasn't much for dusting or straightening. Nor was he a pig, so out came an ancient vacuum cleaner. All was good until the master bedroom, where the machine ground to a halt when ran under the bed.

Shit.

Examining the tip, he found a pair of women's panties clogging the intake. Although he still did well with the ladies, his Casanova days were long over. Thus, he could count on one hand who the potential owners might be.

Leopard skin.

Had to be Caroline. Picardo sniffed the crotch.

Definitely.

Even though her scent had faded, the memories were as fresh as the open road.

Sex with the twenty-seven-year-old had been more frenzied than with her mother. Certainly, more limber. Compliments on his size were also an ego booster, especially after seeing the QOS tramp stamp on that young ass. He'd seen a couple black cocks in the locker room, and being in the same class as those, well....

Lauren was a better fuck, though. Dirtier, into it, her filthy mouth knowing exactly how to push buttons. To the women's credit though, they both liked it rough, a testimony to shared genes. Neither minded being smack around a bit, proving just what submissive sluts they were. Their enthusiasm for sex was something he never would have suspected. Corey was truly lucky for being able to tap Lauren whenever he wanted. How his aging friend kept up with her, Zane would never know.

To be honest, being with Caroline had left him emotionally torn. True, he'd been seduced by both, his mighty attempts at resistance whittled away by their charms. Did he regret it? On some level, yes. Screwing Lauren, even though Corey initiated it, had driven a wedge in their friendship. If those two ever found out he had slept with their daughter, there would be hell to pay.

But he couldn't undo any of it now. Thinking with his dick and not his head was something the mechanic would just have to live with. Crumpling the panties in his hand, he debated throwing them away or keeping them as a souvenir. Mailing them back to her seemed stupid. On the other hand, they might come in handy when jerking off to those pics she'd sent him of their night together. After contemplating the latter, the biker put down the electric broom, laid on the bed, and pulled out his phone.

Now is as good of time as any to try them.

+++++

Corey maneuvered a wobbly shopping cart between the refrigerated tubs holding bacon, whole chickens, and other meat products. He had an uncanny knack for always getting the one with a fucked-up wheel. Checking the weather while Lauren selected some steaks, he noted the storm that had delayed her flight was moving off east. That was good news since they were to leave for Ames in the morning. Not that it was a long drive, but it would give the road crews enough time to clear most of the snow. Check-in to their hotel wasn't until three in the afternoon, but Lauren wanted to arrive early on-campus for reunion registration. God forbid they miss out on any of the fun, with Friday starting things off with mixers and parties, and the main event on Saturday, which included a sit down dinner, an era appropriate band, and open bar.

"Glad to see you again, Mrs. Miller," the butcher exclaimed as she walked back to the cart, his eyes riveted to a little ass tucked nicely into pale-yellow waffle yoga pants. At least until he saw Corey watching, causing him to look away.

The guy couldn't possibly have known the rousing effect even a small amount of ogling had on her husband. While Corey had become used to Lauren turning heads over the years, any attention she garnered these days had new context. There was a certain thrill knowing that others were oblivious to the things his wife was capable of. The good-looking guy they just passed in the condiment aisle? No clue that the dark-haired MILF would've blown him out back had he simply asked. The emo girl with a nose ring and colorful ink stocking the vegetable shelves? Likely a shoo-in with the older woman who had just asked her where the black-eyed peas were.

To other shoppers, the couple appeared as happy and monogamous, out doing their weekly grocery shopping. None knew that the grayed haired man's wife was a complete slut, and that her twisted husband fully approved. And that's where the titillation came in. But as warped as the pair was, there was still plenty of perversion to go around. It didn't keep the ketchup and mustard shopper from turning his head to surreptitiously gawk as Lauren's yoga ass waddled by. It didn't deter goth chick from eyeing her customer's body while showing where the can goods were. Both, in fact, appeared to use the same brand of makeup. Corey couldn't blame them. After all, his wife's ass

was

stellar, and there weren't too many hot women in the middle of an Iowan winter sporting a deep, natural tan.

+++++

The Miller's next stop was at the church. During home visits, Pastor Adams had always commented on how much he liked an old mahogany china cabinet that sat in the main hallway. Since it was just one more bulky item to put into storage, Lauren felt a need to donate it to a good cause. Perhaps it could find a good home in the rectory.

As Corey and a janitor offloaded the heavy piece from the truck, Adams chatted with Lauren and expressed how sad he was to see them go. Given her social media posts, he secretly had doubts about her new life in Florida. From what he'd seen, the woman he always counted on for organizing bake sales and bingo night - and dressing appropriately - was doing anything but these days. And her provocativeness appeared to have captured the attention of lots of men.

"Doing just fine," she replied cheerily. "We even volunteered in the soup kitchen over the holidays."

"Glad to hear that, child," the cleric nodded. "I see you're making all sorts of new friends."

Lauren was surprised at the remark. "You're online? You follow me?"

He smiled kindly. "Of course. You must've forgotten accepting my friend request when you first moved. I take great interest in my flock. I follow them wherever the divine wind takes them."

"That's g..great," the ex-bingo caller replied, forcing a smile. She wished the men would hurry up with the cabinet.

"Lauren, as you know, Miami is a city filled with God's beauty, but also sinful, earthly pleasures. It would be easy for a woman of faith to stray from God's word. Especially when your husband isn't there."

As if on cue, Corey cursed loudly behind them when a finger got jammed against the tailgate. "Sorry Reverent," he apologized before wheeling the furniture inside.

"Thanks for the advice, Pastor Adams," Lauren agreed. "It

is

hard not having Corey around, but that will soon change."

The skeptical vicar nodded again. "Glad to hear it. I hope I'm allowed to visit if I'm ever down your way."

"Of course, our door is always open."

After saying a brief prayer, the couple jumped back in the pickup and waved goodbye to the preacher who had once heard their wedding vows.

Corey looked over at his wife while navigating out of the parking lot. "What was that all about?"

Lauren just peered solemnly out the window. "He knows. I don't know how, but he knows."

+++++

That evening played out like thousands preceding it. Following a nice rendition of a favorite pasta dish, the long-married couple curled up on the couch together like they'd done so many times before to watch TV. Corey had been rock-hard since catching the butcher staring at Lauren's ass and needed relief. A particularly steamy scene between a movie's main characters seemed to provide an excellent opportunity. Already nestled in his arms, he began nudging her neck, planting kisses on that soft skin he missed so much. A burly hand found its way to the yoga pants' cameltoe, and a single finger began caressing its groove tenderly. Moans and heavy breathing were followed by a deep, passionate kiss. It was looking promising until he placed her hand on tenting trousers.

"Not now."

Corey stopped in mid-kiss, visibly frustrated. "Seriously? It's been over a month."

"I know. That's why it will be so special if you fuck me."

"If? Special? What's the hell is that supposed to mean? We're not virgins anymore, Lauren."

She simply laughed and pulled away. "Let's go to bed."

+++++

The slighted project manager was nearly asleep when his wife turned off the light and slipped beneath the covers wearing a full nightie. He frowned, realizing she'd been home for a whole day and he'd yet to see her naked.

"You awake?" she asked, spooning behind him.

"Yeah." There was no attempt to turn towards her, even when a dainty hand slid over his chest. He was clearly miffed about being rebuffed.

"You're mad."

"Why would I be? We haven't seen each other for over a month. Last time I checked, we were still married. So, what's to be mad about? I mean, hell, that about matches the rate we had sex before anyway. Guess there's something to be said about my replacements. I mean, after all, as long as

you're

satisfied..."

Lauren winced. She had expected resistance. Resting her chin on his neck, she whispered into his ear. "You wanted this, remember? We talked about it when you visited. You want to experience the full breadth of your...your inclinations."