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 cuckoldress/cuckold humiliation/hetroflexible/eclectic sex. 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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Sunday, June 16th

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

Outside the quaint Des Moines home, the Christmas morning blizzard howled, whipping up a frenzy of blowing snow, while inside, Corey Miller smiled to himself. What could be cozier than his family around a twinkling tree - real, of course, not fake - with torn wrapping paper strewn about? Lauren mirrored his grin, nestled on the couch beside him, content and thankful that she finally got him to wear his-and-her matching red and green plaid pajamas. She leaned against him, hugging his arm as they gazed at their two daughters who sat cross-legged on the floor amidst the paper. Grinning like tweens, even though the youngest had just turned eighteen, one let out a piercing shriek as she opened her last gift: Gucci boots, replete with luxurious leather.

"THANKS Mom and Dad!" Caroline cried as she rushed to throw flailing arms around her parents.

Lauren chuckled and hugged her daughter. "You're very welcome, sweetheart. Now, let's you and I get breakfast ready while your father cleans up this mess."

Corey grinned as his wife broke their loving grip and followed Amelia and Caroline into the kitchen. A profound sense of peace and belonging came over him. This was the way it was supposed to be. The family was together, happy; a picture-perfect scene of domestic bliss. Life was indeed good.

After listening to the latest weather forecast, the Miller patriarch stood and stretched. Despite a few aches and pains, he really did feel felt spry for his age, though hitting the gym more often would certainly help. Heading toward the kitchen, where laughter and the clatter of pots had filled the air moments earlier, he noticed it was now empty and eerily silent. Where was everyone?

"Ladies?"

There was a sound, but it was impossible to tell where it came from. Cocking his neck to one side, Corey listened intently. Were those...

giggles

? Head still tilted, he followed it to the foyer and looked up the staircase leading to the second floor where the bedrooms were. On the upper landing, he caught a flash of one of the girls, followed by more soft laughter.

"What the...?"

It took forever to climb the steps, but once at the top, Corey stopped and peered down the shadowed, endless corridor. There, at the end, stood Caroline in flannel pajamas, tittering with one hand over her mouth, hiding a smile.

"This way, Daddy!" she exclaimed, pointing to the master bedroom.

Suddenly, the hallway appeared elongated. Dark and ominous. Slowly, Corey walked toward his daughter, whose outstretched hand still pointed at something unseen.

More giggles. "Come see, Daddy!"

The closer he drew, the more noises he heard. Irregular sounds, like someone gasping for air. But there was also a steady rhythmic

thumping

. Standing in front of Caroline now, he followed her long pajama-covered arm to what she was pointing at inside the bedroom. Corey's eyes widened and his heart sank as he saw his wife of decades on their marital bed, legs wrapped around a faceless man. Both were naked and grinding, twisting in the throes of passion. The thumping sound grew louder.

Thunderous

.

"Look see!" Caroline was ecstatic. "We have a new daddy now!"

Corey cried out in anguish. The man on top of Lauren was thrusting relentlessly, the headboard banging into the wall behind it.

Thump, thump, thump.

He covered his ears to silence the booms, now like thunderclaps. Lauren and the man both turned their heads and stared in his direction. She was in the midst of an orgasm as her lover's face became clear. But not just one. It morphed, transitioned. Mutated.

Pauly Hamilton.

No, wait... Tommy.

Then Zane.

And finally...

Alex.

Corey opened his mouth to scream in anger, but nothing came out. Before his eyes, the specter of his daughter faded until there was nothing but white, wispy smoke, replaced by her mother's maniacal laugh.

"A new daddy now...

"A new daddy now...

"

A new daddy

..."

+++++

The sixty-one-year-old jolted up in bed, drenched in a cold, clammy sweat. He collapsed back into the pillows of the strange, sagging mattress, hands clawing at his face. Spreading his trembling fingers, he peered through them like a caged animal, squinting until the dim outlines of Sal Bender's guest room came into focus. Corey let out a ragged sigh.

Thank fuck. It was just a goddamn dream.

But then, from the wall behind his head, a barrage of percussive thuds shook the room, rattling the plaster. They grew louder, more insistent, a relentless rhythm pounding through his skull.

Thump, thump, thump.

The glowing red numbers of the clock stabbed at his eyes in the dark. Seven-fucking-thirty in the morning. He'd barely slept a few hours, his body heavy as a sack of shit, drained by exhaustion. His heart started hammering like a jackrabbit's as the truth hit him like a kick to the balls. The master suite where his wife and her lover were shared a thin wall with this one. The headboards - his and theirs - were separated by nothing but six-inch two-by-fours and builder's grade drywall.

Thump, thump, thump.

This wasn't the Christmas nightmare he'd just clawed his way out of. This was real. His wife of twenty-eight years and her cocky bastard of a boyfriend next door, fucking like animals.

Shit.

Corey uttered a pathetic whimper, rubbing his throbbing temples.

Thump, thump, thump.

He tried to will the sound away, but it was useless. New noises slithered through the wall now. Wet, desperate mewls, guttural grunts, and raw, throaty groans. They were invasive, unyielding; a pornographic assault he couldn't escape.

Thump, thump, thump.

Rolling over, Corey gripped his half-hard, obsolete cock, his mind flooded with images of Lauren's naked body. Her tits bouncing, her cunt stretched and slick as Alex used her in filthy, brutal ways. He could picture her legs spread wide, her ass slapping against her beau's hips, nails raking down his back as she screamed for more.

Jesus, Mother Mary and Joseph.

The thuds were an unabated drumbeat of raw sex, yet surprisingly missing the dirty, slutty mouth Lauren had honed with her newfound freedom. No '

fuck me raw

.' No '

own my pussy

.' No barking orders like a bitch in heat. Just endless, pulsing moans, rising and falling in pitch, dripping with a passion that made his gut twist. As he stroked his useless dick, a tear oozed from one eye, his stomach churning with a sick, hollow ache.

They aren't fucking.

They're making love.

He pictured Lauren's body, glistening with sweat, her curves writhing beneath Alex's chiseled frame. Their eyes locked in a lover's gaze, hips grinding in perfect sync, her tiny tits jiggling with every deep, deliberate thrust. Like soulmates lost in each other, they didn't need words, just the primal ecstasy of their bodies fused, his cock buried deep inside her. The noises from next door grew louder, more frenzied, a symphony of lust just inches away.

Thump, thump, thump, THUMP. Thump, thump, thump, THUMP.

Corey jacked his cock harder, knowing Lauren and Alex were about to blow. He could feel it in the air, a heat building that walls could not contain.

Tiny squeals and louder grunts now. Bedsprings protesting. Then a primal roar as Alex unloaded deep inside Lauren's quivering pussy, filling her with his hot, virile cum.

"Thump, thump, thump," Corey gasped out loud, the sound driving him insane. He squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand pinching his pudgy, sensitive nipples as each slam of the headboard shoved him closer to the edge. "Thump, thump, thump."

With a guttural groan, the older man came, his jizz spurting through his fingers like a breached garden hose, splattering his flabby belly. He grimaced, milking his cock slow and hard, riding the wave as his body trembled. Deep, burning shame flooded him as he wiped his wet, sticky hand on the sheets. Heavy eyes welled up, tears mixing with the sweat on his face.

How the fuck had he ended up here? Jerking off on some shitty island in the Atlantic, listening to his wife get railed? The whole situation was beyond fucked up, yet the graying wittol couldn't deny his sick addiction had a stranglehold on his soul.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Corey stood, clearing his throat with a rough cough. Dabbing his wet eyes, he shuffled toward the bathroom when his phone pinged with a text. It was from Lauren.  A message that was cold and curt.

Be on the dock in 15 or you'll be swimming.

+++++

The temperature was already a humid seventy-eight degrees as Alex fired up the powerful screws of his cruiser.

"NOW!" he shouted, cupping his hand to project the command from the cockpit to a waiting Lauren. She nodded from the dock, handily unwound the bow and aft hitches from the pier, then hopped aboard the Amarillo Sky as it bobbed in the water. She waved up at Alex to signal the boat was free, then pulled in the fenders, first from port, then starboard. As she bent over to grab each nylon rope, the material of her bikini bottoms wedged into the crack of her ass, threatening to expose her pussy lips. Lips that Corey thought were surely puffy and red from a sex-filled night with her boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

It was clear their connection went beyond just good sex. The chemistry that had been brewing between the new couple before the break had intensified, like a hurricane's resurgence over warm waters. Who was Corey to deny that? Sure, there were jealousy, envy, and pangs of anxiety. But it was a small price to pay for Lauren to unlock her sexuality. In the exploration of his fetish, he'd granted her freedom to explore it. Many men would have left her months ago, but the project manager from Iowa wasn't just any man. He was her rock, there to support - if not enable - her perversions. Just like she'd satiated his needs.

From a table on the aft deck, Corey watched with longing as his wife climbed the companionway to the cockpit, where Alex stood. Upon reaching the top, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips lingering on his mouth. With a huge grin and an arm around the pretty brunette's waist, Alex pulsed the throttle forward, slowly leaving the slip behind.

As they entered Card Sound, the ocean breeze grew stronger, buffeting the three travelers and making conversation difficult. Not that anyone was much in the mood to talk, all for different reasons. Alex steered the boat north, holding Lauren tight, the two occasionally glancing at each other warmly, basking in the afterglow of glorious fucking. Below, Corey sat alone, the acquiescing third to the island outing, the weekend replaying in his mind. He knew the muscular Texan had invited him only to be nice, hoping to score points with Lauren. On a whim, he had accepted the invitation to accompany them, fully aware that unique tension and power dynamics would be at play. The emotions were indeed high. Alex and Lauren openly flaunted their relationship in front of him, using every opportunity to chasten the acceding hubby.

Despite the taunting at every turn, Corey had remained steadfast, devoted to the mother of his children, his entire universe for decades. He was not oblivious to the old adage "be careful what you wish for." Any rabbit holes the long-married couple was going down these days were of his own digging. As the yacht approached the open waters of Biscayne Bay, he had but one hope.

That the holes weren't too deep.

+++++

Lauren's heart churned as she glanced down at her husband, isolated on the boat's stern, his slumped shoulders a silent testament to his angst. She was riding the high of the last twenty-four hours yet a sharp pang of guilt pierced her chest, twisting like a knife. She knew this arrangement was tearing Corey apart, his jealousy and anguish simmering just beneath the stoic facade. He had unleashed this beast himself, coaxing her to embrace her needs, but the weight of her complicity at once crushed and excited her.

She sensed Alex's arm around her bare waist tighten, pulling her into him. Lauren's smile came easily as his lips brushed her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He glanced back at the water, but the memory of their morning sex - raw, earth-shattering - lingered. She really dug how he dominated her in the bedroom, his commanding presence reducing her to a quivering, helpless mess in the most decadent way.

Corey had surely heard every moan that morning, each cry a deliberate thrust of a dagger to his heart. Sometimes Lauren felt she was drunk on the thrill of being his cuckoldress, yet with this title came the great responsibility. A responsibility to feed his Frankenstein just enough to keep him on the edge, but without unintentionally tipping the scale like she had recently. His fetish was a twisted need she both pitied and revered. Now that they were fully immersed in this lifestyle again, she vowed to give it to him in spades, even as it tore at her soul to see him recoil in his pleasurable pain.

But this couldn't last forever, could it? The thought gnawed at her. They would age, and though Corey was eleven years her senior, her beauty would fade too. In the end, preserving their marriage was paramount, the one truth she clung to amidst the chaos. Men would come and go, but any feelings she shared with them would pale compared to the love she and Corey had forged over decades.

Alex.

Where did that leave Alex? Amy, Chloe, and even Corey called him her boyfriend, but that word felt strange, especially to her married self. Was that really the right way to describe him? They had only been dating a short while, but she and the Texan had shared a lot of special moments together.

They had done the kinds of things couples who are dating do - going to a baseball game, seeing a concert, spending lazy days relaxing. Each memory was like a thread pulling them closer. It all felt...right, in a way that was almost dangerous, as if her heart was being pulled in different directions. Lauren had agreed to the lifestyle because it's what they both needed. Indulging Corey while chasing her own fantasies was a delicate balance. She knew he craved being pushed to the limit, but how far could she go without another episode? His breakdown over her fling with his boss and the guy's wife had been the jagged little pill, a wound that hadn't completely healed. Were there other edges? Darker ones? Event horizon ones? As fucked up as it seemed to most people, a kink had recently bubbled up in him like a solar flare, lashing out of the corona. One that would have her forever lost to another man. It was aberrant, complicated, and perilous. Especially with what most of her lovers had going for them. And for what? So he could flog himself and maso-masturbate to death?

Back below, Corey looked up at the helm, his eyes locking with hers in a fleeting, soul-baring moment. Their subtle smiles masked a torrent of unspoken fears, a shared acknowledgment that their lives were hurtling along a path that was both exhilarating and terrifying. There was so much to gain. Freedom, passion, truth. And so much to lose. Love, trust, each other. A lump swelled in Corey's throat, his heart pounding. He wanted to keep her to himself but relished the dread of her slipping away, all at the same time.

He stood to lose everything. And God help him, he ached for it.

+++++

The next few weeks saw a slow thaw of the self-imposed moratorium, marking an unsuccessful attempt by Lauren and Corey to return to "the way we were." It was a noble try, to be sure, but if the interdiction had taught them one thing, it was that neither was thrilled with their pre-Miami ways. Suppressing their developing kinks was not a silver bullet to happiness.

Harnessing

them would be key.

Alex remained in the picture as the new relationship energy continued. There were a few more dates, some overnight on the Amarillo Sky. When the new lovers weren't together, there were plenty of messages between them. Corey caught her smiling plenty into her phone as they watched TV before bed. No doubt Alex was texting something heartfelt. A budding romance? It was too early to tell, although the thought played into one of the darkest corners of Corey's core. One that tore at his very sensibilities, threatening to rip his heart from his chest. The risk of losing Lauren completely to another man was maddening. Alarming.

But very, arousing.

Other regulars slowly returned as Lauren's return to the scene became apparent. Griffin Schultz, who fancied himself an experienced "bull," took the forty-eight-year-old to dinner. And then to bed at his place. Then there was the cocky Tony Reed, the just-graduated collegiate athlete and asshole extraordinaire. He loved nothing better than roughing up a cagy cuckoldress and ridiculing her much older husband.

Her friends Chloe Calleigh and Amy Rossiner were ecstatic, welcoming their old buddy back to trolling bars with them, teasing men wherever they went. It was exactly on one of those evenings that the next dose of Corey's simmering angst began to take shape.

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

Saturday, June 29th

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"The fuck is that?" Zane shouted angrily, arm outstretched at the wall-mounted television. His palm was upward, middle finger raised.

The roar of the Bronx crowd swelled as the Yankee slugger's bat connected with the Marlins' pitcher's fastball, sending the ball arcing through the air before plummeting into the outfield stands. Zane Picardo's face was a mask of fury, a throbbing vein betraying rage as he slammed his fist on the couch's arm, causing the whiskey in his glass to slosh.

Corey sat up on the other end of the sofa and shook his head. "Damn, a meatball right down the center of the plate.

I

could have hit that."

His buddy grinned at him. "Yeah, what, like five feet foul?"

The older man leaned over and punched his best friend. "Fuck you. When did you get to be such a big Marlins' fan?"

"We're from Iowa, remember? Build it and they will come."

"I believe that's

if you build it, he will come

."

"Same difference."

The lifelong pals chuckled. It was good to be in the same city again, sharing a drink and a game. Zane and Amy, Lauren's bestie since moving to Miami, were a firm item now. The couples often got together for a laugh or two. That didn't mean their friendships lacked a certain undercurrent. Corey couldn't forget that Zane had been the first man to cuckold him, nor the fact that Amy and Lauren were also lovers. To their credit, the graying project manager's fetish was rarely discussed when they all got together. But Corey could see it in their eyes. He had been humbled by his best friend more than once, and though none mentioned it outside the bedroom, he knew they knew - a humiliation in itself. Still, Corey appreciated how Zane treated him as no less a person for it. They were best buds and that was that.