01

Prologue - A Note from the Author

This genesis of

Rae's Awakening

was a book recommendation my wife received from a friend around a year and a half ago. My wife thought that reading this novel aloud together, a bestseller billed as "kinky" and an "erotic thriller," might be a turn-on.

It wasn't.

The book would've been great except for a couple of things: it wasn't particularly thrilling, and we struggled to find any kink or eroticism. Having enjoyed our fair share of porn on film over the years, we were looking porn on paper. What we found instead was schlocky romance novel faire.

After one particularly cringey sex scene, I said I thought that I could do better. My wife's response: that could be sexy... you should try. Several months and just short of 90,000 words later (which, based on where the writing now stands, feels around half-finished), I have no idea whether I have, in fact, done better, but doubtless I've checked the box for "try."

Because this whole thing started as a shared creative sexual experience between the aforementioned audience of one and me, I thought the best way to make the story's principal protagonist relatable to my wife was to base that character on her. Rae McIntyre and my better half share a preponderance of their DNA, and many of the scenes and events that unfold in the story are rooted in real-life events (some just a little, some a whole lot), albeit with names, places and times changed to preserve everyone's privacy. Parts of the story that aren't grounded in actual events largely take inspiration from fantasies my wife has shared or coyly hinted at without claiming full-blown ownership. She's enjoyed what I've written so far... very, very much, and suggested I find an avenue to share it. I hope you enjoy it too.

Although the 15ish chapters that already exist in draft form are part of a general plot outline, they aren't yet a cohesive, sequenced whole just yet because I began by writing several of the more involved sex scenes that occur at different points in the story (always so much more fun to write those than the more mundane stuff; and as I was explaining, my initial, simple mandate was just to write hotter sex scenes than the novel-that-shall-remain-nameless... but then the project took on a life of its own). I don't know yet whether I will go ahead and post those already completed, disjointed chapters or whether I will wait to post a next chunk of chapters when I bridge the gap between Chapter 1 and the next already-completed chapter (which is somewhere around Chapter 6 or 7). Either way, I will add to Rae's adventures at some point, hopefully in the near future.

The entirety of the story will be posted in the "Loving Wives" corner of Literotica just to keep it together in one place under a fitting topic heading, but future chapters, both written and planned, hit many/most of Literotica's other topic headings. (Both Rae and her inspiration have led very full and interesting sex lives!)

Since I am posting bits and pieces as I progress, I decided not to post the project in novels/novellas. However, if the whole work eventually sees the light of day, it'll decidedly be a novel regardless of where it resides.

Chapter 1 - August 2021

Raelene (please, God, call me Rae) McIntyre walked off the dance floor of the Atlanta dance club, heart pounding faster than the pulsating music and lights. She was thankful that she had opted at the last minute to wear the low heels in lieu of the four-inch stilettos she had packed to pair with the molecule-thin, second-skin micro-minidress she was sporting. Jason, one half of Rae's company, held her sweaty right hand as the pair ascended the shallow steps toward the bar area and tables that ringed the perimeter of the club. The other half of her company, Jason's younger brother Jack, had retreated a few minutes earlier to order another round of drinks for the three of them. Jack promised the drinks would be waiting upstairs in the club at the table occupied by a pair of his friends whose names Rae couldn't recall.

Rae clutched the metal stair railing with her left hand as she climbed, hoping desperately to avoid being flung off the earth as it undulated beneath her. She had consumed four cocktails this evening, the first two strong pours at dinner a couple of hours earlier with her husband, followed by a third sitting alone for a short time at the club's bar. When Jason had caught her eye and smiled before walking over, introducing himself first and then Jack, Rae had been so surprised by the men's attention that she forgot to decline when Jason offered to refresh the cocktail that she had only recently finished.

One promise broken

, she had thought immediately after proffering an acceptance to Jason's offer far more enthusiastically than she had intended.

Rae was only a very occasional drinker and slightly built, so the continuum between her being a bit tipsy and totally hammered wasn't an expansive one. Even three weak drinks, if consumed in relatively close proximity to a good meal, typically gave Rae a very healthy buzz but left most of her faculties intact otherwise. Beyond three, though, each sip extracted a boulder-sized chunk out of her inhibition--and her judgment. Now, as she was heading back to her companions' table and the fifth cocktail waiting for her there, Rae had a thought that the evening might progress far differently than she had planned before leaving the hotel a couple of hours earlier. Had she declined the drink Jason had offered, that thought would have started the alarm klaxons in her head blaring and brought the evening's experiment to a screeching halt; but as she presently perceived that brief realization through the murk of her growing inebriation and as she prepared to consume even more, the thought intrigued--and aroused--her.

Until a half hour ago, Rae had been absolutely certain this experiment would fail spectacularly. Two hours earlier, she had appraised herself in the hotel room mirror, having returned from dinner to dress for the rest of her evening out. The whole idea was absurd, and no part of the reflection she saw could possibly save her from flaming embarrassment: not the carefully rolled dirty blonde hair that was just a little bigger than usual; not the meticulously applied makeup that was heavier and bolder than she normally wore it; and not even the royal blue, button-up micro-minidress that she had barely stretched over a minimal surface area of her petite, 5'4" frame. As sexy as the dress might be on someone else, Rae thought, she was sure it wouldn't snatch her a victory from the jaws of the inevitable defeat that was looming, even though she had stopped fastening the buttons a couple of inches below the bottom of her still perky, full B-cup teardrop breasts and even though its hem fell bare centimeters below her freshly waxed labia and mons. And the dress wouldn't save her even despite its being so skin-tight that it refused to suffer even the skimpiest bra or panties beneath it and despite its fabric being so molecule-thin that anyone in close proximity would, without any particular effort, be able to discern each braille bump of Rae's small, round areolae and taut nipples. Rae's self-appraisal in the hotel mirror concluded with a twist of her torso to inspect her ass: it had always been a bit on the larger side in all the best ways, an object of lust for her lovers and the most frequent focal point of attention from strangers. But no, her ass fell short too.

Why are you even bothering to do this

, Rae reproached herself.

You're setting yourself up to be humiliated and disappointed.

Even 10 minutes into the semi-shouted, light-hearted bar conversation over the thumping music with the two men who were chatting her up, Rae remained steadfast in her certainty that the evening would go up in flames at any moment, upon which she would retreat to her hotel, mortified and feeling even worse about herself. Rae could recite her preplanned script well and was surprisingly earnest and convincing with it:

I'm Summer Harrison, a recently divorced 43-year-old kindergarten teacher from Greenville, South Carolina... I'm meeting a former student teacher friend of mine to celebrate my newly won singleness by cutting loose for a night of drunken debauchery, but she got caught in a traffic jam behind a multicar pileup on I-75; she's supposed to be here by 10:00 or 10:30. Do you think this dress is too much for someone my age? No? Oh, you're just saying that to be nice! [They all laugh.] Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!

But, she thought, the guys she had just met would, at best, view her as a pathetic novelty, a cougar wannabe prowling in a club a majority of whose patrons were years younger than she.

Rae McIntyre was, after all, a fraud, her self-assembled dossier filled with half- or full-fabrications: Summer and Harrison were her maiden and middle names, respectively; she was a full seven years past her claimed age, a fifth grade teacher in Summerville, South Carolina who had never taught kindergarten at all or any grade anywhere near Greenville; there was no friend she was meeting later that evening; there was no question in her mind that the dress was

absolutely

too much; and, incidentally, she was married, quite happily so at the moment. She had left the hotel--and her husband with a hug and light kiss so as not to disturb her makeup--earlier in the evening, and he would pick her up from the club she was going to sometime between 10 p.m. and 1 a.m., depending on the results of the experiment.

When the two men eagerly accepted her nervous invitation to dance, Rae still knew--absolutely knew--that they must be trading snickers behind her back. They were, after all, near her in age... but only if you summed their years circling the sun. But as she drained the last drops from her cup and felt more warm, irrational courage course through her, she resolved to play her part in the experiment to its inexorably bitter end. Rae had thought that, an hour hence, maybe less, she would no longer have to endure her husband's apparent lies, although borne of love for sure, telling over and over again that she looked well younger than her 50 years and that she still turned men's heads, even considerably younger men. The failure of the experiment would crystallize each and every one her myriad physical insecurities into adamantine reality. But the alcohol Rae had consumed would allow her to ignore that inevitability for a little while longer, so she had grabbed both men by the arms and headed for the steps down to the dance floor below, doubtless that her companions would soon make it plain they were laughing at her and not with her.

After a few minutes of dancing with the brothers, some cracks began to spiderweb through Rae's certitude. Both men immediately were unshy with their hands. First Jason, a wiry six feet, snaked his long arms around Rae's torso to grab a handful of her ass with each of his large hands. Looking down at her face intently, he pulled Rae's body to his, his legs open and knees bent slightly so that their crotches met. Never breaking eye contact, he slid his hands up to her hipbones and, holding Rae firmly in place, began to rotate his hips clockwise in half-time with the thumping bass beat that could be felt as much as heard. His movements caused Rae's already just-long-enough-to-be-legal dress to ride up slightly more with each completed circle of their hips.

Rae became increasingly aware of Jason's manhood pressed against her pubic mound and lower abdomen. His cock apparently was craving Rae's awareness, as she could clearly feel it stiffening between them. Without thinking, Rae's hands, which had been wrapped loosely around his lower back, moved down to Jason's glutes as she tilted her pelvis inward slightly to align her slit more directly with the hardening ridge. Although their eyes were still locked on one another, Rae's were now half-closed as she bit her lower lip.

Their eye contact was broken when she felt younger brother Jack's hands on her ass. Unlike Jason's initial grasp, which found the gossamer material of Rae's dress, Jason's hands met skin, as the dress had ridden up enough to expose the lower half of Rae's ass. With thumbs on the lower hemisphere of her cheeks near her crack and fingers splayed outward, Jack massaged Rae firmly as he nestled his own crotch in Rae's crevasse and sandwiched her against his brother. Rae reflexively closed her eyes and lifted her chin, craning her head backward until it impacted Jack's right collarbone. Mouth open, a small moan trailed out from deep within Rae; neither man could hear the sound she made, but they didn't really need to. Her state was plain enough.

Through several more songs, Rae and the brothers danced, if "dance" it could be called. The men both explored nearly every inch of Summer-the-horny-divorcee-from-Greenville's willing body with their roaming hands. At various points in their dance floor undulations, Rae had straddled a leg of each of the brothers, grinding one while the other effectively dry-fucked her from behind. Eventually Jack peeled off and shouted to the other two that he was returning to their table and would order more drinks. Rae and Jason stayed behind for another few minutes before following. By the time they disengaged, Rae's dress had ridden high enough to expose her ass entirely. Her pussy would have been similarly exposed but for it being pressed firmly against one of the brothers for nearly the entire duration of their dance. As they moved to leave the dance floor, Rae became aware of the state of her dress and her exposure to anyone who might've been paying attention in the mass of sweaty humanity. Sober, the sensation of undress would have registered strongly, but in Rae's present state, her nakedness precipitated exhilaration much more than embarrassment. She pulled the dress back down as much as it allowed.

A thought flashed across Rae's consciousness through the haze of her inebriation:

Even though they may have approached me on some sort of half-joking, novelty cougar hunt, both of their dicks seem to be taking me seriously enough. Maybe Scott wasn't totally bullshitting me after all.

Oh shit! Scott...

Rae had to concentrate hard for a minute as she passed through the throng toward the steps, her hand in Jason's.

Have I crossed any of the red lines we agreed to? Well, other than the drinking

, she thought. She was supposed to have stopped at three for the evening, and she had consumed two glasses of wine with dinner before coming to the club.

She hadn't kissed either of her companions, nor had she let her hands wander over their bodies into any restricted areas as theirs had hers.

Have I broken any rules by getting really turned on?

The answer, maybe a rationalization, she realized, came to her surprisingly quickly in spite of the vodka that now dripped from her synapses like warm molasses:

Not so long as you don't act on it.

She knew that possibly the only thing that had prevented her dress from being soaked by the evidence of her arousal was that it had ridden up so high, although maybe pulling it back down again might tell on her quickly.

Rae muted the internal conversation before her first foot hit the steps.

The pair arrived at the small round table near one corner of the rectangular upper floor of the club that Jack's friends had been occupying in their absence. Jack was just arriving with their drinks as his two friends, now accompanied by two females, stood. One of the men put a hand on Jack's shoulder and leaned in to speak--yell--into Jack's' ear as Jack deposited the three drinks on the table among several empty cups. Both men laughed, and they dapped each other up. It became clear that Jack's nameless-to-Rae friends were departing as they helped up their two lately arrived companions; with a small wave, the four started to make their way toward the club's entrance.

Jack came over to Rae and Jason, handing them their drinks. Rae took a much larger swallow than she would have had the drink been her first. "Their girls want to try a new place that just opened up close by," he half-shouted in explanation. "I told them we might catch up later."

Jason nodded. Just as he waved Rae to the chair nearest the wall, she felt a vibration from the smart watch on her wrist. "Just a second... think my friend is texting me," she said with exaggerated mouth movements to make her lips easier to read, pulling her phone out of a cross-body Vuitton clutch.

Rae unlocked the phone whose lock screen showed "9:45" and read the new text as Jason rounded the table to converse with his brother. The message was from Scott, playing the role of her friend. "Sorry we're running so late. Wreck is in sight now and looks like I might be past it soon. How's the club?"

Rae had to think for a moment to remember the coded responses they had devised for their periodic check-ins if she was in the company of others who might be looking on...

Any reference to missing her friend or hoping she'd get there soon meant that Scott actually needed to come into the club to extricate her as quickly as he could get there.

A reference to things being merely "alright" meant that the success of the experiment was still an open question and, subject to further update, Rae could extract herself without assistance and desired to be picked up outside at 11:00.

However, if Rae told "her friend" she was having fun and that her friend could take her time, she would be conveying that she wanted to extend the experiment's otherwise-agreed midnight expiration by an hour. Rae was to send whatever obliquely explanatory information she could with her coded responses.

She typed, "Great! Met a couple of really nice guys and they're taking good care of me until you get here. You can take your time," punctuating the response with a smiling halo emoji before dropping her phone back into the clutch.

1:00 a.m. it is.

Her companions scooted chairs close on either side of her and sat. Jason slid Rae's drink, a vodka Collins, closer to her. She took a gulp and noticed that it was already almost empty. Another warning signed ignored that she had consumed far too much; not a big drinker, she usually nursed cocktails but had plowed through this one her couple of minutes back at the high-top cocktail table. She could no longer tell how strong her drinks were, any burn somewhat dulled by the effects of her prior consumption. Jack had pulled his phone out and appeared to Rae to be texting someone. She turned to Jason and leaned closer to him, saying loudly in his left ear, "Y'all are quite the dancers. I was surprised... pleasantly... when you came over and introduced yourselves tonight. I'm old enough to be your... big sister! Why'd you decide to talk to me when there are so many younger women in here?"

Jason laughed. "That's easy enough. Hey Jack!" he yelled to get his brother's attention, who looked up from his phone. Tell Summer why we introduced ourselves."

Jack shrugged and smiled. "Because you're hot!" he answered like the response was self-evident.

Jason turned back to Rae. "You looked like you were looking for company... but I was actually concerned when we walked up that you wouldn't take us seriously because of our ages." In their initial conversation, Jason had revealed that he was 28, a newly minted CPA, and he was in Atlanta for the weekend, visiting his 23-year-old brother who was in grad school.

"Of course not! I was really self-conscious when I came in.... that makes me feel a lot better!" She laughed as she made the statement, one of the only truths she had told either man that evening. "So you don't mind being with someone ancient, then?"