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 and near-incest 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.

Note: while there is no incest in this story, the following chapter depicts scenes between parents and and their adult daughter that may make some uncomfortable. You've been warned.

For Patti and Mark, thank you for sharing your unusual encounter with your daughter. We hope we've done it justice.

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Thursday, February 22nd

======================

The early morning sunlight seeped through the curtains of Corey and Lauren Miller's cozy Des Moines home, casting a golden hue across the master bedroom. As they sat and stretched on the edge of the mattress, both felt an unspoken mixture of excitement and melancholy that hung in the air as the family prepared to leave their home of decades for the last time. Saddened by the memories they were leaving behind, but happy about the new life and adventures that awaited them in Miami.

After a round of hurried coffee, Corey and their daughter's current friend with benefits, DeAndre Brown, took to carefully strapping down boxes in the U-Haul and ensuring a balanced load. Inside, Lauren donned a ribbed turtleneck sweater and a pair of old blue jeans, then moved from room to room, checking to make sure nothing of value was being left behind. Although she had sneakers on, her footfall eerily echoed against the bare walls. Upon entering Caroline's room of youth, where the younger couple had slept in the prior evening, the odor of stale sex stung the older brunette's nostrils.

Lots of sex, judging from what she and Corey had heard.

The furniture and mattresses were going to be in storage for a while, and as such, she began to strip the bed to throw the linen away. In doing so, a hand landed squarely in the middle of the fitted sheet. The center was already dried and stiff, but the surrounding fabric felt wet and slippery. An unmistakable sweet scent lingered. Ironworker cum, no doubt.

"Mom?"

Startled, she turned to see Caroline leaning against the doorframe. The younger woman was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a Colorado Rockies tee. She saw her mother's hand still thumbing DeAndre's drying semen. Embarrassed, Lauren turned beet red and crumbled up the sheet.

"Yes?"

"Sorry about that," the girl apologized for the mess. "It was a long night."

"So we heard."

Caroline smirked. "I could say the same thing." Then, after a quick pause, "He's

that

good you know. Rocks my world every time."

Lauren threw the dirty linen into a trash bag and stood straight, hand on hips. "Like Zane?"

The high school emotional health counselor stiffened. That biker had a big mouth.

"I..."

"Yeah, he told us."

"You

and

Dad?"

"He's our best friend," Lauren shook long bangs from her face, "among other things. What did you expect?"

Caroline threw her hands in the air with a huff. "Hell, I don't know. I figured he'd have some discretion.

Fuck.

"

"Like mother, like daughter."

The two women stared at each other, unblinking. Finally, the youngest cleared her throat.

"And...and what did Dad say? About me and Zane."

Lauren sighed. "Your father is, well, shall we say...a bit of an enigma these days. It's hard to read him."

"And last night?"

Caroline was left with no choice but to interpret her mother's silence.

"Oh shit, he got off listening to us...

me

, didn't he?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to.

Oh my God

."

The young Miller didn't know what was worse: her father finding pleasure in her having sex or the bubbling fascination within herself.

In the distance, a low rumble broke the still of the morning. The timing couldn't have been more relevant.

Zane.

The closer the sound got to the cul-de-sac, the more it reverberated through the neighborhood. Both women went to the window and watched as the large chrome Harley-Davidson glided down the dead-end street. Astride the powerful bike, Zane Picardo sat helmetless, confident, and without a care, leather jacket flapping in the wind. Pulling into the driveway next to the U-Haul, he cycled the machine down and looked around. It was not his graying friend and the large black guy standing next to him that caught his eye. Rather, Corey's wife and daughter looking down from Amelia's old bedroom caused him to smile. Corey followed his gaze and gulped. DeAndre was the only one the poignant moment was lost on, unaware that his girlfriend and her mother were both another notch on the biker's bedpost.

With little effort, Zane gracefully swung a leg over the motorcycle's seat and planted both feet firmly on the ground, removing his gloves. One hand opened the Jetta's trunk and the other threw in a camouflaged duffle bag.

"I'm guessing you want me to drive that thing?" he jerked a thumb towards the rental truck.

Corey extended a hand. "Sure, have at it. Um, this here is DeAndre Brown, Caroline's friend. DeAndre, please meet my best friend, Zane Picardo."

The men shook, only one of them having a secret.

"Hey," Zane turned back to Corey, "mind if I bring Bessy? I can wheel her in the back. I'll make sure she cools off."

DeAndre cocked an eyebrow. "Bessy?"

"His bike," Corey replied. "He's in love with the goddamned thing. I swear he'd fuck it if it's tailpipe wouldn't burn his dick."

"Fuck you, chump," Picardo punched his slightly older pal on the arm. He could have said more.

Much more.

But didn't. "It's my ride back," he explained to the handsome black man. "Plus, I'm gonna hit the Keys first."

"What the heck are you guys waiting for?" Caroline shouted, walking out of the house with her mother, both women with luggage in tow. "Let's get this shitshow on the road."

"Go on," Corey nodded at Zane, pointing to the Harley and then the truck. "Just make sure it doesn't fall over. Fifteen hundred miles is a long way."

That was no joke, either. The entire journey covered a formidable distance, and it would take two legs to cover the twenty-six-hour jaunt. For safety reasons, they'd drive first to Tennessee, spend the night, then get up refreshed and finish it off.

Zane took off his jacket and wheeled Bessy up the ramp and into the U-Haul. Using a stability bar and rope, he made sure it would not shift in flight. Tying everything off, he glanced out of the back to where DeAndre and Corey were loading the remaining luggage into the Jetta.

QOS for real, huh?

the mechanic thought, remembering Caroline's tramp stamp. He wasn't sure how long she'd been dating that guy, but there was a real good chance she already was when she showed up on Zane's doorstep.

A nympho, just like her mother

. And how did

he

compare to Mandingo here?

Stowing the ramp in place, he locked the box truck's doors and hopped down.

Guess neither chick can't get enough these days.

On the lawn, DeAndre and Zane stood at a respectful distance as Corey and the girls gathered in front of the one place that had seen so much of their lives. After shedding a few tears, the family hugged each other and piled into the Volkswagen. With a toot of the horn, Corey took one more look, then pulled away from the curb, Zane right behind them.

Above the Midwestern city, the sun inched higher in the sky, illuminating the clear, cold morn.

The final move had begun.

+++++

Amy Rosinner lay in her bed, smoking a joint. It was a little early to get high, even for her, but it was one of those melancholy mornings that were hard to face for a single woman looking for love but having no prospects. After calling in sick, she had rolled a fatty and sunk deep in the pillows, balancing an ashtray on the edge of the mattress. Frustration in her current love life had been building for some time now. She knew her friends considered her happy-go-lucky, content to have one-night stands and then throwing the guy back after he'd rearranged her guts. But the truth was, she was looking for much more. Not that there had to be complete monogamy, either. Hell, she'd settle for a decent-looking guy that had at least some brains and the same interests. Most of the guys she went out with were classic meatheads: muscular and amazing in bed but couldn't hold down a conversation around world events if their life depended on it. The online dating sites had been a letdown, filled with self-absorbed individuals only interested in getting laid. And while Amy was okay with that short term - she was a self-proclaimed slut, after all - the wish for more than just a quick lay persisted. Sometimes the legal secretary longed for a companion who shared her passion for hiking, dancing, and the beach. Even gender was irrelevant, although she did have a particular fondness for cock.

And there had been many of those. With a body count of at least thirty, there was no question the twenty-six-year-old loved to fuck. At least two-thirds of those had come in the last three years; mostly guys she'd met at bars. But there were those frat boys too, Tony and Tommy, from Lauren Miller's apartment building.

And then a couple of other guys from work...

...and the park...

...and the...

Lauren...

Who'd have thought she and the rising star executive at Rekrap Industries would hit it off? After all, Lauren hadn't exactly been a wild one when they met. The consummate Iowan wife and mundane office manager had only turned slutty after her husband encouraged it.

Lauren

...

Ah, those Demi Moore looks that had captivated so many men and women since showing up in Miami some eight months ago. The Midwesterner who had taken to hanging out with a barely legal stripper.

Lauren.

Even with a twenty-two-year age difference, Amy had to admit there was something about the older woman's lithe body, small breasts, and full lips that drove aspiring lovers to introspect. Including the secretary herself, who had suckled the older woman's clit more than once. As she thought back to her first time with the brunette beauty, a hand absentmindedly drifted to the bottom of her well-worn tee, pulling it up and over her braless breasts, resting it on the top of the well-formed globes. They bounced a little when popping out, the air-conditioned temps causing the nipples to tighten in response. Stabbing out the half-smoked blunt, she laid back against soft, fluffy pillows, letting nimble fingers flit over her tits.

Amy's mind continued to wander, as did her hands, finding their way to pleasurable spots, eventually between glistening thighs. Legs spread wide, her heartbeat raced as she plunged a couple of fingers into her wet slit, envisioning her BFF's body next to hers. Tearing one hand free, it attacked the younger woman's breasts once more, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh, imagining it was Lauren pinching and pulling at her hardened nubs, the gorgeous friend's lips and teeth devouring them.

Lauren...

+++++

Route 61 through Iowa was an endless road of asphalt, white lane markings, and grain silos. Dull, drab, and utterly characterless. Alternating between Corey's classic rock and DeAndre's hip-hop playlists, along with mindless chit-chat, provided the only entertainment. Hours passed, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a welcome warmth into the Volkswagen's cabin and chasing the frost from the many cornfields.

Perhaps one redeeming value - maybe the only one - of being stuck in a car on a long ride with others is how much you can learn about them, and by the time they reached St. Louis, Lauren and Corey had learned a great deal about their daughter's latest boyfriend. It seemed DeAndre Brown was born and raised in Atlanta to a hardworking African-American bus driver and a compassionate ER nurse. After struggling through conventional school, he picked up odd jobs, mostly as a laborer at construction sites, where the foremen liked his work ethic and attention to detail. Soon, he was working alongside experienced ironworkers, and the rest is history.

As the day wore on, fatigue began to set in. Taking advantage of the occasional rest stops, the convoy would pull over, pee, and stretch their legs. Always one to doubt the GPS, Corey spent most of this time alone verifying the map app and double-checking headings. On one such stop, he happened to look up from the dashboard and watched from afar while the others interacted. Lauren and Caroline appeared like starstruck schoolgirls in the presence of the other two men. No longer was Corey the apple of their eye, the man in their lives. Big dicks and confidence attracted them now, neither of which the older man possessed.

Tired eyes traced the girls' movements as they flirted in the most obvious ways. Subtle touches, stilted laughter, the twisting of hair. Except for age, at twenty-five paces, they appeared as identical twins.

Horny twins.

A twinge of jealousy mixed with frustration and longing, setting into motion the emotions he'd given himself over to the last few months. Now that both mother and daughter were aware of each's dalliances with the biker, every lingering glance caused Corey's dick to twitch with that strange blend of arousal and jealousy he'd come to crave...to

need

. Made even more acute by how they were glancing over at him, not caring what he saw, as if he was no more than a hired driver that was waiting outside a bar for them.

And now, as they entered a new chapter of their lives in Miami, he and Lauren's relationship was either poised to propel the couple into the next level of their shared kink or threatened to burn bridges that were dry and flammable, only needing that one particular spark to destroy them forever.

Miami...

Corey had been eagerly anticipating this day, the day when he would no longer have to bid a tearful goodbye to his wife at an airport. But as excitement was the soup de jour, a new sense of anxiety began to creep in. What would their dynamic be like now, with him constantly by her side, twenty-four hours a day? Would his fetishes continue to be indulged, or would this newfound proximity push their boundaries even further? Or shatter them?

The thought of humiliation, a fancy that had simmered beneath the surface, now loomed larger than ever. Would Lauren take it to the extreme, testing his limits in ways he had never imagined? He knew all too well that his wife was more than willing to dish out whatever excited him. His mind wandered to the possibility of things like cages. While not appealing at this moment, was this the next natural step in his spiraling emasculation? Was this where things were headed?

Corey gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling his palms moist with perspiration. Within arm's reach, the most important people in his life - one his bride of over twenty-eight years and the other a product of his loins - stared at him through the windshield, taunting him. Zane at one point grinned back at his older friend, flashing him devil horns. A year ago, that would have solidified their affection for rock and roll. Now, however, Corey wasn't so sure that was his intended message.

While he and Picardo had come to terms with their recently modified and peculiar friendship, the project manager at times felt very vulnerable. Zane, a bull? Really? Although it seemed surreal, it was technically accurate. One-night stands were traumatic enough. Could Corey handle the intensity of his wife having bona fide boyfriends? Would their marriage survive these fantasies realized? These kept him awake at night, gnawing at his twisted gut.

And then there was DeAndre. He could see the way Lauren leaned into him while chatting. The wry smiles, the fingers lingering on his chest. Listening to their daughters' escapades the previous evening had obviously stoked her curiosity. And ambition.

A passing air horn from a semi on the highway caused everyone to flinch, signaling the end of the break. Corey was surprised when Caroline jumped in the front seat with him, allowing Lauren to scramble into the back with her daughter's friend.

"What?" the girl answered her father's questioning expression. "Can't a daughter hang with her daddy? Besides, you need some serious help with those tunes."

Corey mustered a weak chuckle, his heart sinking deeper into his chest. The question pierced his fatherly facade, a painful reminder of the shifting dynamics within their family. He desperately wanted to believe it was Caroline's innocent desire to spend time with him, yet below it all, it whispered subtle, insidious suggestions.

As Zane cranked up the U-Haul, the two drivers signaled each other and began the long crawl back to highway cruising speeds, forcing Corey to shelve his doubts. He was glad to continue the trip but was beginning to fear the price that may have to be paid.

+++++

A loud moan escaped Amy's lips while several fingers continued their exploration into her soft and slick pussy. As they moved in and out as one, her cunt walls clenched around them, feeding off the now erratic heartbeat pulsing through wet digits.

"Mmm, oh yes..."

Drawing on memories of her and Lauren, she harked back to the party at Jack Carter's penthouse apartment. Images of her, Lauren, and the two fraternity brothers Tony and Tommy going at it seared her masturbating mind. Especially when picturing Lauren's sloppy hole, puckering, hungry, waiting for Amy's tongue to take her to new heights. And she did, while the two boys looked on in amazement. It wasn't every day one got to witness Sapphic love between women of such varying ages. But they did. And loved it.

"Fuck."

The imaginings continued to come, fast and furious. Her tongue in Lauren's slit, lapping up the sweet acidic juices that flowed. Pink on pink, velvety, plush.

"Yesssss."

The two tribbing, hips joined in one continuous pelvic thrust, clit against clit.

"That's it."

Tony and Tommy kneeling before the raven-haired wife from Iowa as she serviced them, head on a pillow. The scorching heat from all four as they fell together in a cacophony of moans.

"SHIT!"

Lauren cumming. Amy cumming.

"Nuhhhhhhggggnnn," her lips drew into a sneer, "Oh, baby, yes."

Suddenly, her spine curved like a bow, back muscles tightening and flexing. Beneath her, the bedsheets twisted and wrinkled as she arched higher, grinding wildly against some invisible force. Like a freight train, it hit, a string of indiscernible utterances, moans, and whimpers pouring out of a gaping mouth as a flood of wetness soaked Amy's thighs, fingers flailing.

As the peak passed, the young blonde slowly lowered her back to the mattress, a contented sigh beginning the march back to regulated breathing. Body relaxed, she loosened her grip on the sheets and relished the warmth between sticky legs. A serene smile graced Amy's lips as her mind slowly returned to reality.

She could not wait for her friend to return home.

Please hurry home.

+++++

As the Volkswagen barreled down the freeway, it was understandable that Corey was a little distracted from his driving duties. Occasional glances at his wife sitting next to DeAndre in the backseat stirred visions that felt obscene with his daughter just feet away. It felt...well...wrong.