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/humiliation/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.

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As prep to the next couple chapters, here is a message from the IRL Lauren:

If the fictional non-fiction character of 'Lauren Miller' comes across as being a heartless bitch sometimes, then we certainly nailed the type of person I was during those years. Those who follow us on another (more tolerant) forum know that Ascending Lauren is an amalgamation of not only mine and Simple's life together, but stories about hotwives/cuckoldresses and their spouses that we've befriended over the years. The next couple chapters, however, are more personal, relating a period of time when I took Simple's kink and amped it up to the extreme, fucking everyone I could and being one of the cruelest human beings you can imagine (at least in a cuckolding sense). During those years, I kept telling myself that's what he wanted. And to some extent, he did, only using our safe word once the entire time. Still, looking back, I am not proud of myself for some of the things I subjected him to (even though he clearly asked for it). And yet, to not retell these would be to deny a time in our lives that did exist. Therefore, the next few episodes will touch on a few of those things, which may not be for the faint of heart.

NOTE: For those of you who cannot fathom what wittols crave or find pleasurable in, and are disgusted by same, please do yourself a favor and skip this one. Like my husband, they are wired differently and you'll never understand why. They don't even understand why. You've been warned.

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Friday, February 23rd

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

Corey's body jerked awake as the piercing sound of his phone's alarm shattered the early morning quiet. He let out a groan, quickly silenced the device, and rubbed his tired eyes. In the dimly lit bedroom, Lauren lay beside him, her body curled up on its side, clutching a pillow. The thin, three-quarter-length tee she wore hugged her curves, emphasizing her toned figure and perky, gravity-defying breasts, which, despite her age, remained firm and youthful.

As her eyes fluttered open, a playful grin tugged at the corners of luscious lips. "Good morning, stud," she purred.

Corey's throat tightened as he swallowed. His mouth felt as dry as a desert.

Why does my mouth feel like it's been pissed in?

"Good morning," he managed to squeak out, his heart pounding in his chest.

Lauren's eyes narrowed as she made note of her husband's unease. Her lips curved into a cautious smile. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Corey hesitated, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"Regarding last night, I mean," she clarified, her eyes searching his.

Shame seemed to paralyze Corey's voice; his heart heavy with it. Before he could respond, Lauren climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. In the darkness, blood involuntarily surged to Corey's groin, his cock twitching and growing hard beneath her.

"Oh my, I think you did," Lauren grinned.

Corey's vision blurred as he watched Lauren reach down, her fingers firmly gripping the hem of her bed shirt. With tantalizing slowness, she peeled it over her shoulders, revealing the glorious sight of her b-cup breasts, naked and begging for attention. The remnants of the previous night's edibles had, to this point, clouded his mind, making it difficult to focus, but the sight before him now cut through the haze like a lighthouse.

Lauren's face lit up as she felt Corey's throbbing cock growing harder beneath his tighty-whities. Eagerly, she slid her panties aside, revealing a glistening slit. With a teasing motion, the forty-eight-year-old guided him towards her wet pussy, and with a gentle push, his modest six-inch length slipped inside her. As the tightness enveloped him, Corey couldn't help but notice a peculiar sensation of stickiness and grit, reminiscent of half-dried glue.

Good god, was that...his? Was that his crusty semen?

Despite the nagging thought, Corey couldn't resist the intoxicating rhythm of Lauren's hips rolling against his. The memory of his best friend, Zane, and the black ironworker, DeAndre, relentlessly fucking her earlier in the night flashed through his mind. Zane had left his mark on her back with a thick load of cum, while DeAndre had howled in pleasure as he emptied himself into her bare hole.

Are these the remnants I'm sliding through right now?

Instinctively gripping his wife's hips, Corey aided her in setting the pace, although it was far tamer compared to the wild pounding Lauren had received from Zane and DeAndre. It was the rhythm of a couple who had spent thirty years together, their bodies moving in sync, lost in the moment of pure intimacy.

In that fleeting moment, there were no other lovers or lascivious notions. It was just them, hearts pounding as one as they made love. And yet, it didn't take long for those ever-present thoughts to creep back in. As his eyes feasted on the sight of her bouncing breasts and the way they flattened against her chest with each thrust, Corey couldn't help but think about how up until recently only he had had the privilege of beholding those perfect tits.

Now...they were the playthings for many men.

His breath grew ragged as he reached up and mauled the nipples.

So many others had held them...sucked them...came on them...

As Lauren quickened her pace, her scent filled the air. She felt pleasure too, but it was not the kind she encountered with bigger men; it was the contented, heartwarming kind that came from the deep love they shared. She didn't need to cum on his dick; what mattered most was their deep connection.

Leaning forward, Lauren rested her hands on Corey's chest for support. His nipples brushed against her skin, sending electric shocks through his body. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her palms, mirroring the intensity of her own.

Corey's hands moved from Lauren's hips to her ass, gripping it firmly, urging her to go faster. The Airbnb bed creaked, and the sound of their bodies colliding grew louder, filling the room. Both began moaning as Corey dug his fingers into her flesh, thrusting upward into the hole that had been fucked by a black man and his best friend just hours ago. The thought of it sent him over the edge.

"Ahhhhh, mmmm..."

Gritting his teeth, Corey came. It wasn't a loud, earth-shattering orgasm, but it happened inside his wife's pussy, something that had become exceedingly rare in recent times. And for that, he was grateful.

As their trembling bodies gradually stilled, Lauren collapsed onto Corey's chest, their breasts pressing against each other, his nearly as big as hers. They lay there, savoring the moment.

"I love you," Lauren whispered, her lips brushing against his as she kissed him. The fact that she had said it first meant the world.

"I love you too."

Laying there, knowing that the day was beckoning, the raven-haired beauty looked deeply into her husband's eyes.

"I've missed this."

A smile flitted across Corey's face, then faded. Interlacing her fingers, palms down on his meaty pecs, Lauren rested her chin on her knuckles. She could see the conflict in his eyes.

"Nuh-uh. C'mon, that's not the look of a hubby finally reunited with his loving wife. What gives?"

His eyes shifted to the right, a sure sign of lying. "Nothing."

Then, after some deliberation, he dismissed that with a wave of his hand.

"Everything.

This

."

Lauren narrowed her eyes, taken aback. "Us? But we're finally back together."

Corey reached out, tenderly brushing a stray strand of his wife's glossy black hair away from her flushed cheek, his fingertips trailing down the curve of her neck.

"And I'm so happy. It's been a long year."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I'm...I feel. I feel like a freak sometimes."

"Okaaay. How so?"

A deep sigh.

"Our lives. Oh sure, we go to work, go to the grocery store, maybe take in a movie. Everything we

should

be doing. But then there is the dark side of us. I need not explain that part."

Lauren tilted her head slightly. "A dark side we both agreed to."

"I know that. I'm not pointing fingers. I know who started it. That's why I feel like a freak."

"There's

always

been pillow talk."

"That's just it. A lot of couples talk the talk. Few walk the walk. Had we not decided to move, I don't think we would have ever acted on it."

"And yet here we are."

"Exactly," Corey sighed. "And I can't stop thinking about it. Every time you mentioned going out, even if it was alone for dinner, I fantasized about you meeting someone. And when my imagination's fried, I think about guys you've already been with. Zane, the frat boys, that entrepreneur, the cowboy. It's sick."

"I wouldn't call that sick."

"Oh, no? I can hardly get it up without thinking these thoughts. Sometimes, I actually get off on the prospect of you ditching me for somebody else. And then there's Caroline."

Lauren shifted her body, a thigh rubbing against his wet, shriveled penis. "Okay, well, I have to admit that was...unusual. But she's a grown woman. Just because society frowns upon something doesn't make it evil."

She smiled inwardly. The honest banter, albeit about a taboo subject, was refreshing. This was the first chance they'd had to chat now that there would be no long goodbyes. And it felt really good. Still, it was unclear what he was getting at.

"So...where is this going?"

Corey looped his arms around her neck and kissed her forehead. "I think I'm chasing a high."

"You just got high."

"Not that kind."

"Then what?"

"I need more."

"More? Like you want to date other women?"

"No, god no. You're enough woman for any man."

"Then what, Corey? This conversation is going nowhere."

He shrugged and cast his eyes downward. "More...you know. Things Twisty would like."

Lauren cocked an eyebrow. To hear him talk about himself in the third person was a bit eerie.

"Um...you mean like...hurting you?"

Corey nodded, the shame misting his eyes. It was a scary thing, admitting that he wanted her to amp things up in the ways of humiliation.

The Iowan wife paused. Was he really asking her to escalate? To intensify the cruelty? There was a vulnerability in his voice that gave Lauren a glimpse of the battle raging inside him.

"Corey, are you sure?" It was a legitimate question. Surely, she had exceeded his expectations over the past few months, sleeping with a plethora of other men, including his best friend. Then there were the ones he didn't even know about.

The graying wittol nodded.

"Why?"

This time he shook his head as if he was trying to erase the notion. "Never mind."

Lauren poked him in the chest. "Nope, not getting off that easy."

Corey took a deep breath. "I don't really know why. I've tried to articulate it and can't. While I was in Des Moines, something about being away from you amplified the thoughts of you being with other men. Something I eroticized internally. What was just pillow talk suddenly became possible, with you being in a big shiny city all by yourself. Making a new life and new friends. Meeting rich men and good-looking young ones. The potential of losing you to one of them is...hot."

"So, you actually get off on the gamble? And you're willing to take it?"

The sixty-one-year-old hesitated. She could tell he was not comfortable talking about it.

"That's why I'm a freak. The more it's rubbed in my face, the hotter it is. I want to feel the daggers, the torment, the pain, the danger. Like a cutter relieves emotional distress by cutting themselves, but in my case there's no blood."

Lauren locked eyes with her husband of twenty-eight years. They had talked about his fetish before, but never this in depth. The man she was married to had just revealed a side of himself that she had never fully recognized before--a subtle shift in his persona. While he remained the epitome of an alpha male, exuding confidence and strength in most aspects of his life, there was now an underlying need for dominance and control, a desire to relinquish power. This likely emerged when she moved. On one hand, he had immense pressures at work, where he had to assert authority and manage challenging situations. This was counterbalanced by a situation he had no control over. He no longer had any say on where she went and who she went with. While they spoke often, they'd sometimes not speak for days depending on their schedules. So, in the middle of those long nights alone, the pain of not knowing what she was doing merged with that pillow talk and his own erotic cogitations to form an escape from the pain. This then, is what started the ball rolling. In many ways, her husband fit the mold of a classic cuckold--a person who found solace in emotional emasculation, using it as a release valve for his pent-up frustrations. The deeper the emotional wound, the more profound the relief.

Blinking, Lauren saw a little bit of her in his reflection. He wasn't the only one who had found a submissive side.

"So, the potential for someone to sweep me off my feet?"

"Terrifying."

"And?"

Corey swallowed hard. "Immensely arousing."

"Losing me to another man actually excites you?"

The silence spoke volumes. Pursing her lips, Lauren contemplated that for a minute, then rolled off his jiggling belly. This flavor of the kink was the oddest yet, and yet another in a long line of his penchants she didn't fully understand. Sitting up in bed, she gathered her long mane into a single tail and stroked it for a long time, staring at the wall. Finally, she tossed it behind her and turned.

"Alright," Lauren cleared her throat.

Corey opened his eyes. He had nearly dozed off again. "Alright, what?"

"I'll give you what you want," she said firmly. "I'll be your Rasputin, your Bloody Mary. You want torment? You want to embrace the pain? You want me to give away a piece of my heart? Fine. But promise me, Corey, promise me it won't go too far. Don't you DARE let this ruin us. If things get too intense, use the safe word, damnit. We ARE going to grow old together, got it?"

As if to punctuate that rousing discourse, the snooze on the phone's alarm went off again. The couple could hear sounds in the Airbnb's common area as the others began to stir.

Time to rise and shine.

+++++

A layer of frost blanketed the grass as Corey made his way to the bed and breakfast office. Outside, Lauren, Caroline, Zane, and DeAndre silently gathered in the parking lot, engines of the U-Haul and Jetta warming, anticipating the final leg of their journey to Miami. Their minds were weighed down by the gummies from the night before, and they spoke little, lost in their own thoughts as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the sky.

Not surprisingly, the owners, Hal and Bertha Strikestra, were already awake and preparing breakfast.

"Sure you don't want to stay for pancakes?" the elderly man asked, hanging the Airbnb's keys on a pegboard. "Bertha here makes great grits."

Corey politely declined, "Gotta make a thousand miles today." As it was, they'd be lucky to reach the Miami-Dade county line by eight that evening.

"My husband tells me you were able to go swimming after all," the white-haired hostess smiled kindly. "Was the water to your liking?"

Hal looked away nervously and busied himself with nothing as Corey shot him a curious look. Not so private after all, huh?

"Yes, ma'am, everything was fine. May I have a receipt?" Corey inquired. Dale Dactyl, owner of Dactyl Construction, his new employer, had graciously offered to pay his moving expenses.

Exiting the office, Corey's thoughts raced. Did the old man spy on them last night? Did he see the girls half-naked, breasts flopping about in the water? Half of Corey was disgusted, but he couldn't very well complain after his own behavior now could he? The other half? Well,

that

mental note went into the spank bank for later recall.

As Corey returned to the parking lot, he was pleased to see the vehicles warmed up and ready to go. Zane was in the U-Haul, adjusting the oversized mirrors, while Caroline and DeAndre huddled in the back of the Jetta, still half asleep. And there, in the front passenger seat was Corey's beautiful wife, the cornerstone of his life, his anchor in the stormiest of seas. She was right where she belonged, forever by his side.

+++++

Two hours into the final push to South Florida, the occupants of the Volkswagen remained silent, content with gazing out the window as Corey drove at the speed limit, soft rock drifting lazily from the speakers under the dash. There was no mention of the previous night's events, though they were undoubtedly replaying in the minds of each passenger.

Caroline stared listlessly at the passing scenery, while DeAndre couldn't help but smirk. The images of the mother and daughter eagerly taking his cock, practically at the same time, played like a raunchy movie on a loop in his mind. How fortunate was he? Two beautiful white women worshipping ebony dick. It was a brother's dream. As he lingered on Lauren's profile from the back, he admired her long black hair, now combed and free of cum, as it fell to the seat below. It was a tough call to decide who was better in bed. Perhaps he would get another taste before this adventure came to an end.

Much like DeAndre, Corey's mature wife was lost in her own thoughts, holding Corey's hand over the console and staring out the windshield without focus. She too was reliving the electrifying events of the night before, a night of firsts.

Her first black man, his dick, thick and pulsating, filled her mouth for the first time. The taste of his skin, the way he guided her with his hands, as she succumbed to curiosity. Caroline's assessment of black cock appeared to be spot on.

And then there was Zane, Corey's best friend, who, at DeAndre's encouragement, had taken her by surprise with his long and crooked shaft up her ass, while her daughter's boyfriend filled her pussy. The sensation of being filled in both holes simultaneously was, simply put, a surreal revelation that both pleasure and pain can push one to the edge of ecstasy.

Caroline, the X factor. She had proven to be an unexpected surprise, embodying the younger version of her now sexually liberated mother. Their encounter, though not technically sex, was undeniably taboo by any standard. And yet, it had ignited a fire within them all.

It wasn't just the act of being naked in the same bed that had aroused them. No, it was the electric atmosphere created by the presence of mother and daughter engaging in such nasty acts in such close proximity. The effect it had on the men in the room was so, so hot!