Ascending Lauren

[R_H_NC]

I have a photo of Sophia Peschisolido in a white bikini on a yacht and she is my Lauren. I wonder what other Laurens look like. We can't help ourselves, can we.
Anyway, We eagerly await the next chapter. Keep getting your dick wet.

Funny you should say that. I was just thinking yesterday of some of the HW's here on OHW who haven't posted any photos (or a few with very limited exposure). When I read of their adventures, I have the mental image of what they look like, my brain attempting to fill in based on their actions and personality. Something to be said for the amazing feats the human brain is capable of..............

[ILV23+]

R-H-HC, That's true. SE has given a great many details about how Lauren looks. I had a decent picture in my mind but being visually oriented I like to see someone real. There are several photos of this girl on the web. My favorite is full front, looking to her right, long dark hair (no bangs available, sorry), wearing a white bikini held together with gold rings. The top gives the suggestion of small breasts like Laurens. Tiny waist and flaring hips, she's standing on a yacht with Miami in the background. The bikini bottom showing a definite camel toe. She isn't old but Lauren looks much younger than her 48 years so in this photo she could be early thirties. Love looking at her. To me she is Lauren.

[SimpleEnigma]

Last night, MY Lauren and I read through KY_Da’s awesome story. HOLY SHIT, thank you KY! Her pussy was sopping by the first chapter and on my cock before we finished the second. Puts our writing to shame.

Anyway, I digress. It appears while there are similar themes between that Nobel prize winner and our drivel (escorting, work related), the circumstances are different. That greatly relieved us in that we won’t have to change much, if anything, the tales as told from our friends’ memories.

Now back to the task at hand…

[Ky_Da]

Last night, MY Lauren and I read through KY_Da’s awesome story. HOLY SHIT, thank you KY! Her pussy was sopping by the first chapter and on my cock before we finished the second. Puts our writing to shame.

Anyway, I digress. It appears while there are similar themes between that Nobel prize winner and our drivel (escorting, work related), the circumstances are different. That greatly relieved us in that we won’t have to change much, if anything, the tales as told from our friends’ memories.

Now back to the task at hand…

Thanks for the plug, appreciated.

I’m finally back in the writing chair after making some huge adjustments in the personal life, and I’ll tell ya, it doesn’t take long to feel a little rusty.

I love that you and the wife have found some enjoyment in my story. That gave me a serious thrill. I always feel very uncomfortable about the idea that my story could motivate someone to actually try the cuckold/hotwife experience. There are so many perils and pitfalls that I don’t want to be the voice of encouragement.

I’m enjoying where you’re taking the story, thanks for writing

[SimpleEnigma]

KY, the wife and I are glad to see you are well and look forward to more of your writing! Your style is top-shelf.

You’ve inspired us to continue writing (as time permits, work hours suck right now). As you state, there are indeed perils and pitfalls to this lifestyle but I think we as authors can only hope that reading various experiences will HELP others contemplating the leap to be informed and consider it carefully. It can be rewarding to those of us with certain fetishes, and although we personally have been together for over 30 years, it can destroy relationships in a heartbeat.

In the end, we write for entertainment. Even though Lauren and Corey are fictional characters, their experiences are loosely based on real events from either our lives or friends. Luckily, many of those relationships have survived; sadly others have not.

In fact, my lovely co-author and I are currently rowing over which event should come next for Lauren and Corey: a true tale from one our good friends who was a stripper and escort for a time (yes, her husband knew and encouraged), or another close friend who made some short low budget studio pornos back in the day only to turn around and use them to prop up her husband’s light humiliation kink, which quite coincidentally, is shared by our beloved Corey.

Now on to try and come up with a good way to incorporate one or both of those into our protagonists’ timeline. Stay tuned.

[SamWarrens]

I'm truly hoping Lauren and company return to this thread soon, I'm suffering severe withdrawal symptoms!

[SimpleEnigma]

Sam, truly sorry you are jonesing, we’ll take that as a compliment, though!

Unfortunately, we’ve both been knocked in the dirt by a very nasty virus (no, not THAT one, but one equally as devastating those of us in our 60s). That means neither of us will have our writing chops for a while. Please give us time to kick this thing to the curb. Be back soon!

[SamWarrens]

Get well soon! At any age its no fun being sick!
We want you both hale and hearty and writing great stories!

[SamWarrens]

You over the virus yet?
Hope you're recovering so you can finish this great story!

[SimpleEnigma]

Hi Sam! Thanks for thinking of us. Yes, feeling stronger every day. We both still work full-time, so now trying to catch up on that, plus to be completely honest, neither of us have felt much like writing. Or even making new memories, if you know I mean. Just freaking blah, barely making it through the day, only to collapse at night.

They say we didn’t have COVID but a similar SARS-like bug that’s going around. Whatever it was, it was nasty. Stay vigilant folks

[SimpleEnigma]

Hi Sam! Thanks for thinking of us. Yes, feeling stronger every day. We both still work full-time, so now trying to catch up on that, plus to be completely honest, neither of us have felt much like writing. Or even making new memories, if you know I mean. Just freaking blah, barely making it through the day, only to collapse at night.

They say we didn’t have COVID but a similar SARS-like bug that’s going around. Whatever it was, it was nasty. Stay vigilant folks.

[SamWarrens]

Simpleenigma: Glad to see you are getting back to your old selves.
Hope you soon feel like writing again soon.
Its a great story that needs to be told.
Get well soon!

[SamWarrens]

Please come back and finish this tale!

[SamWarrens]

Please come back and finish this tale!

[SamWarrens]

I know its a pain getting back into the story, but it does need to be told and you guys are yhe ones to do it.
Don't let it drop and wither away.
Its a wonderful story so keep it going!

[SimpleEnigma]

More chapters coming soon. Unfortunately I had a relapse of the virus and it’s really knocked my dick in the dirt as far as strength. By the time my work day is done, so am I.

The good news is my better half, who has faired better, has taken up pen and is working through more exploits. Again, it’s tough to maintain the blueprint of fictionalizing certain actual experiences and make them entertaining enough to be a good read.

Stay tuned and happy holidays!

[R_H_NC]

More chapters coming soon. Unfortunately I had a relapse of the virus and it’s really knocked my dick in the dirt as far as strength. By the time my work day is done, so am I.

The good news is my better half, who has faired better, has taken up pen and is working through more exploits. Again, it’s tough to maintain the blueprint of fictionalizing certain actual experiences and make them entertaining enough to be a good read.

Stay tuned and happy holidays!

Just get fully better. Us pervs will survive until the chapter can be written.

[ILV23+]

Yes, getting yourself well is more important than our lust for more of Lauren. We'll be here as long as it takes.

[SamWarrens]

My only reason for rushing is that I'm rapidly going blind. Diabetic retinopathy
If its possible i hope you finish before I do.

[SimpleEnigma]

Apologies for taking so long to continue this saga. Like many others, SARS has taken its toll on our writing family. Strength has been zapped for months, which, of course, robs us of motivation.

To that end, the "raven-haired and much prettier" half of our team, who has recovered better than an old fart, has taken pen in hand to move this storyline along. As such, some may detect a slightly different writing style.

========
CHAPTER 13
========

December 1st. Three months to go.

December saw a flurry of activity in the Miller’s separate but ever-connected lives. With the hospital complex 90% complete and a February ribbon cutting looming, Corey and the other project managers were working overtime to ensure crews were meeting deadlines and avoiding penalties. In Florida, Rekrap Industries had their own worries, mainly around supply chain shortages. The fiberglass manufacturer faced issues procuring natural minerals used to make the product and delays resulted in very irate customers. Lauren’s office staff had been enlisted to reach out and head off any potential defections to other suppliers. That made for a lot of boring lunch meetings and late-night dinners, yet all felt the extra effort would be worth it if it meant keeping business relationships alive.

All this extra effort left little time for a long-distance marriage. A few texts here and there with maybe a quick call at night was the most the lonely husband and busy wife could squeeze in. Neither had broached the subject of the “Ashley Date”, though it certainly was still prominent in their minds. In the days following that memorable Thanksgiving weekend, Corey had used an entire bottle of lube while picturing his wife and best friend rolling around on a worn-out mattress in a flea-bag motel. Likewise, Lauren could not shake the incredible memories from that night, frequently employing her ten-inch vibrator to revisit how Zane Picardo drove his impressive tool deep inside her, resulting in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.

Although bringing a friend like Zane into their ever-expanding experiences was certainly a big step, that wasn't what bothered Corey the most. Hell, he might as well have put the biker’s dick in Lauren himself. Rather, it was the fact that someone so close now knew their secret. It was one thing for strangers to be aware, but there was altogether good reason to keep it quiet in their own hometown. While Corey was growing more comfortable with his kink every day, there was still an undeniable stigma attached to the genre. Call men like him a cuckold, stag, or just a voyeur, somehow a man couldn't be a man if he drew pleasure from his wife sleeping with others.

Of course, mainstream society used to say something similarly foolish about gays. A man couldn’t be a real man if he sucked dick. Fortunately, most people now saw the fallacy of these phobias, but like the LGBTQ movement, polygamous relationships still had a lot to overcome. As such, the practice wasn't really something one could divulge outside certain circles without risking unpredictable consequences. Thankfully, most liberal minds simply shrugged it off as live and let live, but others severely derided it, usually without cause. Even some who secretly masturbated late at night to erotic literature, those who should be more tolerant of alternative lifestyles, somehow found it necessary to continually ridicule personal choices. This weighed heavily on Corey, and not knowing which camp Zane was in, kept him from picking up the phone and calling his best friend.

+++++

With Christmas only weeks away, Lauren used what precious free time she had to scour Miami’s downtown shops for just the right gifts. There she found funky clothing for the free-spirited Caroline, a designer handbag for the practical Amelia (who’d never buy it for herself), and the latest French perfume for her new Magic City friend and coworker, Amy Rosinner. The only challenge now was to find the perfect gift for the one man whose heart she held closest. But what? Being the memory maker for the family, Corey might enjoy a new camera. He was an avid photographer, after all. Or maybe some scuba diving gear for daytrips to the Keys?

The Iowan beauty rolled her eyes and chuckled softly while meandering through the never-ending corridor of a downtown mall.

But did the perv deserve a gift at all?

Although the bitterness had subsided, Lauren was still a little miffed at Corey for filming her in Jack's penthouse. Granted, it wasn’t so much the video itself - she was the last one who should be judging morality - but damnit, he could have at least asked permission. They were all so drunk, no one would have cared, and he probably could have joined in, though Lauren knew his preference these days was to watch.

Far, far worse was their daughter Caroline finding the incriminating evidence. What a dumbass! Who leaves a thing like that on their desktop? What could be worse than a daughter seeing her mother’s sex tape? With multiple partners, no less…none of whom were her father. It was one of those things that can’t be unseen, and if it didn’t scar the youngest Miller for life, it would most assuredly change how she viewed her parents.

Why hadn't Lauren pulled the plug on Corey’s fantasies right then and assured her daughter it was all over? Wouldn't most parents immediately end any controversial behavior upon their kids learning of it?

What does that say about me?

Oddly, beyond the initial shock, Caroline had exhibited unusual calm. Nor had she asked them to stop. That was kind of weird. True, Corey had interrupted their conversation that day before they had a chance to finish, but something told Lauren that Caroline wasn't as upset about her mother screwing other people as she was about it potentially hurting her father. Once she knew Dad was onboard, her demeanor changed. In fact, since then, none of their conversations even touched on the incident, like it never happened. Very odd for her to just let that go. These days, as a licensed therapeutic counselor, Caroline was trained to view sexuality with a clinical eye. But seeing your mom getting drilled like a two-bit whore and knowing your father was a booster? Thank God, the girl had agreed to stay mum. Knowing his sweet little princess was aware of his nasty little penchant would surely send Corey to an early grave.

Still, with all the disappointment at her jerk-of-a-husband’s stupid attempt at pornography, a pang of compassion tugged her heartstrings. She knew all too well what it was like to weather an Iowa winter, and how tough it would be for her to spent weeks on end, whiling away lonely hours, wondering what he was doing. How depressing it must be for him to call, just to find that she was at a club, out sailing, or frolicking on the beach. How harsh was it to learn the of fun she was having sipping wine at the pool deck, while he watched a blizzard dump a half-foot of snow that he would eventually have to shovel?

Then there was the seemingly perpetual hall pass. Corey had guided her down this path, so it should come as no surprise that, reluctant as Lauren was initially, she had now fully embraced it…and then some. At first, of course, she was shy about the whole thing, almost embarrassed. Now? Well, she rather enjoyed her newfound love for sex, and teasing him was a lot of fun too, although she was sometimes confused on how far to take it.

Originally, he claimed it was all about compersion, about her receiving the pleasure he could no longer give her. Then he began showing an affinity for teasing and humiliation, something she had researched but didn't really understand. Case in point, it sometimes seemed as if Corey actually enjoyed being separated by 1,500 miles, where he had no control over what she did or who she saw. Did the long-distance veneer over her everyday life, and the helpless feeling it extolled, add to his twisted pleasure? So strange if that was true.

All things considered though, it was hard to begrudge the poor man's very real need for a distraction. Lauren understood deep down that that video – as underhanded as it was - had acted as a proxy for being with her when he could not physically be.

That's why giving him the perfect gift this year was more important than ever.

+++++

Corey was pulling out of the construction yard after a long dusty day when his boss came running out of the trailer office and held up a hand. Stopping, the project manager rolled down the driver’s window and waved back.

“Something wrong, Chief?”

“Listen,” Haul Carew said breathlessly. “You got a line on any work down there yet?”

“Haven’t really had a chance to look.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, being here from sunup to sundown most days.”

“Yes, sir.”

Haul looked him in the eye. “Miller, you’re a real talent. It’s going to be tough to replace you. Miami, what a place to retire, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Carew handed him a sticky note.

“Dale Dactyl. His company specializes in residential high-rises. A little different than commercial, but hell, with your skills it will be no problem to pivot. Him and I go way back. He’s waiting for your call.”

Corey looked down at a number scrawled on the yellow paper. “Wow, Haul, thanks, I’ll call him. That’s mighty big of you. I know you’re not happy about me moving on.”

“That’s true, not gonna lie. But you need to chase after that pretty little lady of yours before someone else does,” Haul belly laughed, with just a hint of leer. “Hell, might even be one of us! You know how much me and the boys like her.”

“I do, Chief,” Corey chuckled, shoving the phone number into his grubby work jeans. The idea of his fat boss and the rest of the crew taking up with Lauren might just be kindle for a cold winter night's dream. The fact that she had used a couple of his coworkers during role-play one night didn’t help vanquish the thought either.

God, I'm a sick fuck.

But honestly, what else was there? His thoughts, his hand, and a little lube was all he had right now to keep his sanity.

As he merged onto the freeway to his suburban home, he dialed the number Carew had given him. The construction firm’s owner picked up right away and seemed amiable enough, if not downright jolly. After Corey explained his plans for relocating to Miami, Dactyl was open to meeting and discussing potential employment. They settled on a date and promised to continue the conversation then. Hanging up, the project manager felt on top of the world. Things were falling into place. Not only would he soon be reunited with the sweetest girl in the world but might also be landing the perfect job.

+++++

Lauren smiled sweetly at the wet-behind-the-ears youngster trying desperately to explain the advantages of a real camcorder. She had wandered quite by chance into the brightly lit electronic store, enticed by the sale signs in the front window. Much to the boy's dismay, his concentration was severely hampered by the way the elegant woman's satin blouse clung to her small breasts, accented by a strand of pearls, and legs wrapped in a tight pencil skirt. Like many young men, he had difficulty speaking in the presence of such a sumptuous MILF.

“B-B-Better control for outdoor nature shots, additional lighting capabilities for indoor ones, and even microphone add-ons!”

"And the viewfinder?" she asked.

"Oh its, larger than most!" the boy beamed.

"Bigger is better right?" Lauren winked, barely able to keep a straight face. "Can you show me?"

She thought the kid was going to pass out.

"S-S-Sure," he stammered, positioning himself behind her. He discretely inhaled what he thought was the most alluring perfume he'd ever smelled.

Lauren could feel the front of his work khakis press into her skirt as he lowered his arms around her shoulders to show her how the camera worked.

"Oooh, that is big," she teased, peering through the viewfinder.

Turning so her cheek was just next to his, Lauren looked him in the eyes. "I'll take it."

Moments later, the smitten sales associate watched as the woman of his late-night dreams walked out of his store and life with her new camcorder. Yes indeed, the mature beauty had given him something to fantasize about that night after saying goodnight to his parents.

And she'd bought a warranty to boot!

+++++

Forty-five minutes after setting up the Miami interview, Corey guided his old pickup truck into a nearly empty two-car garage and killed the engine. He sighed as the creaky wooden door closed behind him, seemingly sealing him in for yet another lonely night. It wasn’t so much the solitude that would eventually close in on him as the evening wore on; that he could handle. Rather, it was the not being there. The not knowing. Not knowing what his lovely bride was doing at any particular moment as she went about her daily life.

A life without me.

And there was little question Lauren had built a life of her own in Miami. Bolder, sexier, and shamelessly provocative now, his wife had little trouble attracting a stable of new, shiny friends with whom she enjoyed spending time with. Whether it was relaxing with neighbors at the pool, rubbing elbows with - and, by the way, occasionally fucking - coworkers, bar owners, billionaires, fraternity boys, and strippers, Lauren certainly had her dance card filled most weekends. Then there was her attitude. Way more assertive, carrying herself with more confidence than he’d ever seen. Indeed, he had truly poked the bear.

But isn’t that exactly what you wanted? Well then...mission accomplished! Right?

Unfortunately, Corey had begun to question the wisdom of pushing her into that behavior, at least while he wasn’t there to help manage and be part of it. Although the pillow talk would have never taken flight without her moving to another city, agonizing now over what she was doing and with whom was both a blessing and a curse. A source of both unchaste self-gratification and abhorrent disgust. At times he would brood over the possibility of her being out, dressed to the nines, flirting with who knows who, the risk of her being swept off her feet by a younger, wealthier lover always there. Then, predictably, he’d become uncontrollably aroused and jackoff at the very thoughts that caused the bittersweet angst in the first place. Mercifully, this served to temporarily alleviate his trepidation, like a rapidly deflating balloon. Until the next time. And there always was a next time.

Despite this anxiety, Corey really did love the new Lauren he had helped to mold, although he had to admit her increasingly slutty demeanor did scare him a bit. She was becoming a borderline nymphomaniac, actively seeking out new and bizarre ways to stretch sexual boundaries, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon and spreading its wings. Truthfully a beautiful thing to behold. Or was it?

Compared to a lot of hotwife stuff on the web, her…their…encounters had been relatively mild. But the scale seemed to be tipping towards some rather unconventional nuances. It had begun with vanilla pillow talk, but now Lauren responded with much zeal when called a “whore, slut, or cunt”. Six months ago, that would have, at a minimum, resulted in a slap across the face and the end to their already increasingly infrequent lovemaking. Now, it only served to fuel her arousal. Then, out of left field, came a sudden love for fellatio and receiving facials. Corey could count on one hand the number of times she’d given him head in their 30 years together. And most recently, at the hand of his best friend no less, the 48-year-old beauty showed fondness for the rough stuff. Slapping, pinching, choking. Never in a million years would Corey have imagined the girl who walked down the aisle with him 28 years ago could have an appetite for anything even remotely sadomasochistic. The kitten he’d married had turned into a lioness, and he was finding there was something to be said about the old maxim “be careful what you ask for”. While he may have led her to the water for just a sip, she had jumped into the lake for a swim. Indeed, while this initially may have been about him chasing some juvenile man-cave fancies, in time, it caused the raven-haired beauty to rediscover something in her that was just begging for attention. And found it she did.

So she’s on the cusp of becoming a whore’s whore. Is that what you want? And just how far do you want her to take it?

Still sitting in the driver’s seat under the dimly lit bulb of the garage door opener, Corey closed his eyes. Hands gripping the steering wheel, he allowed his thoughts to drift to his favorite fantasy of Lauren painting the town in a shimmering, tight fitting party gown. Laser lights bounced off the walls of a crowded club as she danced with abandon, throwing her head back, laughing at stupid jokes while being sandwiched between myriad of eager men, each thinking they had a shot with the hot and tipsy woman. A familiar ache in Corey’s crotch unconsciously lifted his hands from the wheel and lowered them into his lap where they massaged a twitching and growing cock through the thick, dusty jeans.

She’d flirt at first, of course, allowing unsure hands to probe and grope, evaluating just how much freedom they were allowed. Soon enough, she’d favor a lucky guy and they’d break off to a corner of the bar, snuggling close and whispering naughty, suggestive things that only they could hear. As the drinks flowed, Mr. Lucky would try placing his hands in strategic places – on her knee, across her shoulders – in the age-old dance known as “getting to first base.” Playing the good girl at first, she’d wiggle her ring finger at him and squirm away. He’d laugh at the diamond ring that Corey saved up months to buy. Miami bars were full of horny housewives who were out to get laid. Whether this one was really married or just pretending made no difference to him at all. It was clear she wanted to end up on her back and he was happy to oblige. After a few more drinks, hands were allowed to go wherever they wished, signaling it was time to go.

Back at his place, Mr. Lucky wasted no time in slipping off the skimpy dress, then in kneading those luscious tomato sized breasts. Pushing her head into his lap, her shiny black hair obscured the pretty little mouth bobbing up and down on the large and rippled cock. It seemed agonizingly apropos that she so willingly and gleefully serviced her lovers in a way that Corey had begged for years.

The 61-year-old husband’s thin arms were shivering as they fumbled with his zipper, eventually freeing the wrinkled and underutilized cock. Quirky shadows cast on the dashboard revealed the increasingly jerky movement of the weathered hands as they played with the forlorn shaft.

Fuck me! Lauren screamed at the faceless man as he drove his substantial meat into her waiting beaver.

Yes, fuck her, take the whore! Corey shouted aloud to the empty garage as he encouraged the imaginary suitor to take his wife. That’s it, slut, move your ass! Let him cum in you, you know you want it!

Fap, fap, fap.

Before too long, Lauren's apparition turned towards her husband, somehow knowing he'd be there watching from afar.

This could be you, baby, but no, you're so far away!

Without warning, the man’s long, thick and unprotected penis slipped from her sopping hole, heavy strands of precum shaking from the tip. Looking down at the enormous tool which had just given her so much pleasure, she began to giggle uncontrollably.

”So sorry, sweetie,” she put a finger in her mouth apologetically, “my mistake. Look at the size of that thing! THAT could never be you.”

“Oh, Lauren!” Corey cried out, spittle landing on his flannel shirt, fingers stroking the pale shaft protruding from the denim fly.

Fap, fap, fap.

Pushing Mr. Lucky over onto his back in dramatic fashion, the ghostlike figure of Corey’s wife knelt before her lover, coaxing the love she desperately wanted from the throbbing appendage.

“Gimme that hot spunk, stud!” the pretty face clamored for his sticky goo. As if on cue, the man howled and came, flooding Lauren’s makeup with an obscene amount of thick white jizz. The maniacal laughing continued as she pressed a dainty left hand to a cheek. As a steady stream of cum flowed like a waterfall over her wedding ring, it dulled the precious stones within, and with it, any witness it bore to their undying love. In an instant, the wedding vows it stood for were suddenly and wantonly obscured at the hands of a lustful wife, content to bathe in another man’s seed.

Corey screamed at the windshield and lurched forward violently, then slammed back into the creaking driver’s seat. The lone bulb above the truck suddenly blinked off, its timing impeccable, plunging the garage into complete darkness. His body shook the bench seat as thin but unseen ropes of semen shot from his lap, and onto the dashboard. As wheedled cum slowly slid down the cheap plastic tachometer, Corey savored the image of Lauren being fucked by the faceless man. It was a lonely husband's version of cuddling with his wife after sex. Demented and perverse, but again, what else did he have?

And through it all, the burning question remained.

Just how far do I want her to take this?

The answer was now dripping onto the floorboard next to his work boots.

As far as she wants to go.

+++++

December 8th.

As December plodded on, the mood in Rekrap’s Miami office was somber. Raw materials continued to be a problem in the supply chain. Client churn was up, and revenues were tanking. It wasn’t that the grass was any greener on the other side. The entire industry was hurting; loyalty was fickle when perception was reality. Because of this, the entire office had been working overtime. Unfortunately, several of their largest revenue generators were still on the fence. Something had to be done to guarantee retention.

That something appeared to involve Lauren and several of her colleagues. Just before five that afternoon, CEO Stephan Jones called a few members of his executive pool into his office and informed them they’d been selected to chaperon a customer appreciation party. He'd gotten wind that two of their biggest clients, The Detrevrep Consortium and Polymer Thermoset LLC, were considering going elsewhere, and together accounted for almost 30% of Rekrap’s revenue. The chief executive made it clear that he wanted to pull out all the stops: sit down dinner, dancing, live band, open bar. Plans were already in the works to host the event at the posh Jamais Vu hotel. Rekrap had rented a ballroom large enough to hold 50 people, catering to be done by the venue, with 15 suites and additional 10 rooms guaranteed. As a perk for chaperoning, each executive would be provided with comp’d rooms for the night.

Lauren was impressed, and there were worse ways to spend an evening. Schmooze with the clients, prime rib, and free drinks. She noted the date: December 23rd. What better way to usher in the holiday week? Since the Miller family had gotten together for Thanksgiving, they had all decided to spend Christmas in their respective cities. This then would be a perfect way to spend her time.

+++++

It was just after five o’clock when Corey pulled up to Dusty’s Roadkill and Tiki Bar. He liked to stop by the hole-in-the-wall every now and then after work to have a cold one. Upon ordering a beer at the bar, he was waved over to a table occupied by a few guys he recognized as mechanics from Zane’s motorcycle repair shop. Corey occasionally played rec football with them as a sub. Reluctantly - and a bit apprehensively - the project manager grabbed an overflowing mug and headed their way. He felt suspicious eyes evaluating him as he sat down, making things a bit uncomfortable. Shit, did they know? Did they know my best friend bedded my wife? Roughed her up and fucked her to within inches of her life?

“Hey man, how's it hanging?” one of them asked with a pat on the back.

Corey nodded. It was definitely hanging.

“Missed you at the ceremony when ol’ Zack got his Top Mechanic award,” another one chimed in.

Uh oh.

“Yeah, well, something came up.”

“Speaking of that,” a third said, “did that asshole ever bring in his award? I didn’t make it either, but I bet boss man wants to display the damn thing in the waiting room.”

“To hell with the award,” the first guy snapped back, “he needs to bring in his girl! What was her name?”

“Ashley,” a fourth offered.

“ASHLEY,” they all said in unison, a bit more fondly than Corey would have liked.

He looked at their faces. Why were they all looking his way? Were they stringing him along? [/i]

“Zack didn’t waste any time replacing Abby, did he? Damn, his new squeeze is a hot mess.”

“Dude, she was flaunting that body. Not a young gal by any means, but she must live in a gym. I’d fuck that tight ass and abs all the way to Montana.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

One of them elbowed Corey and pulled out a phone. “Recognize this leathered up bitch?”

C'mon, guys, enough with the games. I'll admit it, she’s my wife. Okay?

With immense trepidation, Corey took the phone and stared at the photo. Lauren was straddling the big hog named Bessy, hands on its handlebars, while Zane sat behind the sexy brunette, arms wrapped around her thin waist. With the slyest of smiles, his fingers were draped over the crotch of her black leather pants. The equally shiny biker jacket was hanging open, tantalizingly exposing the corset which had been unzipped to just below those luscious breasts.

“Look at them little titties. Suck on them all night is what I’d do.”

“Yeah, man she was fucking fire!

Corey swiped the screen and gawked at yet another photo, this one showing her playing darts, covering her mouth laughing. So erotic.

“Your pal’s got one hot ol’ lady, my friend.”

Hot indeed. The next photo showed her bent over a pool table with a stick, preparing to take a shot, tight leathers pulled against her little ass. She was looking back over her shoulder with a sly smile. There was no question every guy in the room was looking at that tush, wishing they were dogging her right there on the spot.

“Any more of these?” Corey croaked at the phone’s owner, his dick tingling.

“Oh, hell yeah, dozens. She was really mugging up the place. Like she was an exhibitionist or something. Broad could be in the MILF edition of one of those spank mags. But you already know that, right?”

Corey felt like curling up under the table. Fuck, they DO know.

The men continued to chat as he shuffled through the images. There were at least 20 pics of her. A few on the dance floor with Zane, some of her being sandwiched between two other bikers, hands in places they shouldn’t be.

“Gotta tell ya though, as much of a flirt as she was, that girl was only into your boy. Couldn’t keep her hands off him. Bet she fucked him into oblivion that night.”

Corey gulped, a growing erection pressing against his jeans.

“Look at that fat cameltoe. Man, I’d love to get my tongue up in all that.”

Swipe, swipe. Here she was shooting whiskey at the bar, another where she was flashing devil horns with her hands, arms draped around the bartender. Universally known as a proclamation for "Long Live Rock and Roll", in recent years it had been adopted as a subtle sign of cuckoldery. Was his wife celebrating the venue's choice in music, or sending a subtle message to her husband? Either way, Corey's cock swelled knowing what was to come.

“And you know what?” a mechanic named Bennie asked the group. “Damned if she didn’t blow Pic in Freddy’s, right there in the fuckin’ john.”

Another shot of Lauren sitting on Zane’s lap, his fingers were creeping up under the bodice of her corset. In support of Bennie’s claim, above the two was a large sign pointing to the restrooms.

“Yep, sure as shit. Rooster saw them through a crack in the stall. She was sitting down on the pot going to town on Picardo’s knob. Ol’ boy was face-fucking her good.”

Corey choked. That must have been the mysterious visitor Lauren told him about.

Bennie’s mouth wouldn’t stop running. “Zack’s nut sack was slapping her upside that pretty little chin. Had her gurgling like a swelled creek. Rooster said if he had opened the door, she probably would have done him too.”

Oh my God.

“That girl was nasty, for sure," the phone's owner agreed, looking directly at Corey. "Not skank nasty, mind you, more like movie star hoe nasty. Jerry and Marcy heard them outside Zane’s room later, both groaning like cattle, yelling like banshees. Jer knows it was them cuz Picardo's trike was out front. Next time though, he needs to share that hoe.”

Corey’s dick was so hard he thought it would explode. The entire table looked at the older man oddly when he moaned, subconsciously processing the image of his wife being ganged by a bunch of bikers in a seedy motel.

“Hey, you and Zane are tight, right?” another mechanic asked. “You hang with them much? Is she really that slutty? Maybe just wasted that night?”

Wait...maybe they didn't know!

“Uh, well, I wouldn’t…”

“Never know, maybe he’ll let you bang her sometime. Some guys are into that,”

The irony of that unwittingly astute statement caused blood to rush to Corey’s head and cock at the same time, nearly shattering both. Saying nothing, he slid the chair back and walked quickly to the bathroom, a dingy one-person stall behind a faded door. Sliding the small, discolored brass latch into place, he tugged his jeans down and squatted on the stool. Grabbing his throbbing tool, he assaulted it with fury, recalling what he’d just seen, knowing all those photos had preceded his best friend thoroughly laying pipe to his wife. It didn’t take long before Corey punched the wall above the toilet paper rack with one hand, while using the other to point the quivering shaft downwards. With a squeaky yelp, he blasted a stream of opaque cum directly into the bowl where it landed on the dirty porcelain just above the water line.

Jesus, Joseph and Mary. She must have really whored it up that night.

A hard knock on the door jolted him out of his cuckold bliss.

“Hey pal, you done in there? Pinch it off, will ya? I gotta pee.”

+++++

December 16th. Ten Weeks to Go.

Lauren sipped her Hurricane and took a seat to the left of a large screen TV in the small bar. It was half-past two, an hour before kickoff of a highly anticipated afternoon matchup between the Texas Longhorns and her beloved Iowa State Cyclones. Before moving, she and Corey used to watch the team every Saturday in the fall without fail. Since then, she’d only seen a couple games while sitting alone in her apartment. That was decidedly boring, so this day, she wanted to spend it with other fans.

The Taffy Snapper was located in downtown Miami, a couple blocks off the main boulevard. More local than touristy, it was a nice clean place to unwind. The music was varied and the atmosphere unassuming. A place where a construction worker felt as comfortable as a banker. Lauren had become somewhat of a regular there, sometimes using their lame excuse for a happy hour as a quick dinner on particularly hectic workdays. That afternoon, it teemed with transplanted Longhorn and Cyclone fans decked out in their regalia, and Lauren was no different. She had brought from Des Moines her authentic team jersey, which she proudly wore as she settled back against the vinyl booth to watch the pregame show.

“Cyclones by 21?” Sally asked as she passed by, dropping off a couple extra napkins. A feisty bleached blonde, the waitress had come to know Lauren by name over the last few months. Some nights the weary office manager and a handful of marina workers were the only ones in the place.

“I’ll just take a win,” Lauren chuckled.

“That husband of yours still not down here?”

“End of February. Can’t wait.”

Sally shook her head. “You must be a saint. Not sure I could stay celibate that long.”

Lauren smirked. “What makes you think I have?”

“Well, you go girl,” Sally nodded, acknowledging another customer’s raised hand. “Listen, if in the meantime you need to keep the pipes clean, you need not wander too far.”

“What?”

The waitress leaned in. “I hear things. There are regulars who’ve had their eyes on you since you started coming around. Very enamored. Guess that big ol’ diamond ring is keeping them at bay though.”

Lauren nearly choked on her drink. “Really? Here? No way.” She didn’t take the Taffy Snapper for that kind of place.

Sally scrunched up her face. “Honey, this might not be a meat market, but we aren’t a church, either. Listen, seeing whose playing today, one of those admirers will probably be here. We call him Tex, cuz that’s where he’s from. Has a travel agency around the corner.”

“Wait, the one with the white cowboy hat?”

“Yep, that’s him. Nice guy, big tipper. Western shirt, tight jeans, boots and a big belt buckle.” Sally lowered her voice as she wiped the table. “And if you ask me, looks like he’s packing a whole lot of Texas heat under that belt too.”

“Uh well,” Lauren chuckled, briefly distracted by an incoming text. “I appreciate the reconnaissance, Sally.” Taking the phone from her purse, she smiled. It was her hubby.

COREY: Ready for a beat down?

Lauren took a pic of her drink. The TV behind it showing the players warming up
was the perfect backdrop.

LAUREN: Damn right! Go Cyclones!

COREY: That’s the spirit. Where u at?

LAUREN: Taffy Snapper. Big crowd today. Where r u?

COREY: Home

She frowned. Normally he’d be at the local bar and grill doing the same thing with his buddies.

LAUREN: Sick?

COREY: Too cold to go anywhere

Lauren furrowed her brow. “Too cold” was NOT in an Iowa football fan’s vocabulary. There had to be something else. Then it dawned on her: Zane would likely be at any watch party, and Corey had not spoken to his pal since she went to Bakersfield with the biker. Was this the fallout she’d feared?

LAUREN: You should go

A long pause…

COREY: I’ll think about it

“Can we buy you a drink, beautiful lady?”

The question broke Lauren’s train of thought. Looking up, she saw two dark-skinned men staring down at her. Before she could answer, they slid into the booth, one on each side.

“Raul,” one smiled with a thick Spanish accent, two gold teeth shining under the bar’s garish lighting. He pointed to his companion, “and Juan.” Looking down at her drink, he scoffed, motioning for the waitress. “You should be drinking mojitos. They are a favorite in our country. Here, let me get you one.”

“I-I-I already have a drink,” Lauren’s hand closed around her clutch.

“But mojito, MUCH better,” Raul assured the small woman.

A waitress with pink hair and a nametag of “Bonnie” on her blouse strolled over and smiled at the trio.

“What can I get cha?”

Raul looked her over appreciatively, then ordered three mojitos. “And use the rum on the top shelf, none of that rail shit.”

The server glanced at Lauren and then back to the men. The woman’s eyes were downcast. It was clear she was uncomfortable. Bonnie jotted down the order and quickly disappeared.

“So, where you from?” Juan spoke for the first time.

“Iowa,” Lauren replied, trying to remain civil.

“Ah, so your team is playing today, yes?”

She nodded, looking around, trying to think of polite way to excuse herself. Across the room, Sally and Bonnie were chatting and discretely looking her way.

“Bah,” Raul shook his head, “American football is piss.”

Juan agreed. “They took a European game and bastardized it.”

Seeing her wedding band, Raul lifted her hand into his. “Hmmm, married and all by yourself. How is it your husband is not by your side? Maybe you’re out looking for some company?”

As the men scooted closer, one of the biggest belt buckles Lauren had ever seen appeared at eye level in front of the booth. All three raised their heads to see a large man standing over them, decked out in a western shirt and off-white cowboy hat.

“Sally says there might be a problem over here," the Belt Buckle said matter-of-factly. He could see the uneasiness in the woman's eyes.

Raul scowled at the sizeable man. "Fuck off."

"You sure you want to go there, friend?

Out of the corner of his eye, Juan saw an equally massive guy in a muscle shirt take up position behind Raul.

“You need help taking out the trash, Tex?" Muscles asked the Cowboy.

"Nah, Vinnie, I think our friends here were just leaving. Weren't you...friends?"

Juan and Raul frowned at each other. They were looking for action, but not this kind.

“Of course," Raul nodded. "We were just discussing the differences between American and Cuban culture.”

Belt Buckle stood aside as the pair slid from behind the table and headed towards the door. Muscles came round the front of the booth and the two men watched the troublemakers leave.

Visibly relieved, Lauren drained the rest of her Hurricane. “Thank you, boys.”

Cowboy tipped his hat. "“Alex. Alex Cartwright. This here is Vinnie Amato."

She smiled at both. "Nice to meet you. Lauren Miller."

“Sorry for intruding. Sally said you might need a hand.”

“I had it all under control," Lauren laughed.

“I’m sure you did,” the tall man grinned. “Well, good day.”

Cartwright and Amato turned and headed back to their stools. Lauren chewed her lower lip. I had it under control? That’s how I thanked them?

“Guys, wait. Care to join me?” she called after the men above the din of the room. Her tone was cautious.

Alex looked back and then at the television. “I don’t think we’re rooting for the same team, ma’am. You sure you want to sleep with the enemy?”

Lauren blushed. "I uh..."

“Metaphorically speaking, that is,” Vince quickly covered for his friend.

The sexy executive brushed those black bangs from her eyes. “Oh my god, does that line EVER work?”

“Sometimes,” the Texan replied sheepishly, sliding into the booth. He called Bonnie over. “Mojito was it?”

Lauren punched the Good Samaritan in the arm and thanked the observant server for getting her out of the jam.

“These guys can have anything they want."

+++++

The score was tied 17-17 at half-time as the teams jogged into their respective locker rooms. The Taffy Snapper was rocking now with fans from both sides enjoying some good-natured trash talking. Hands messy from sampling wings, Lauren used her phone's virtual assistant to place a call.

"Corey."

Seconds later, her husband's face filled the device.

"Did you see that?" he yelled. "D came up big in the second. Now we need better from the O line in third.”

"They’ll do it!” Lauren predicted cheerfully. "These Texans are gonna find out which team rules!”

Corey eyebrows arched. Two men seated on either side of her were shaking their heads, clearly displeased by the comment.

"Let me guess. Longhorn fans?” he asked peering into the small screen.

Lauren suddenly became aware of just how close the guys were to her. They had been looking at social media comments about the game and had, over time, squeezed in tight to read them.

"Oh, uh, yeah,” she sputtered, placing a hand on each of their square shoulders. “This is Alex and Vinnie. Nice guys even though their team are LOSERS. Boys, this is my husband, Corey." She decided against mentioning how they came to meet.

The project manager sat upright in his recliner. The sight of his beautiful wife locked between some Cowboy and what appeared to be a personal trainer on steroids was to say the least…intriguing. At best, it did nothing to mollify the ember that seemed to burn everlasting in his crotch. Both men smiled congenially and waved at the phone.

"Sorry, guys, Cyclones got this one,” Corey said, giving them a good-natured thumbs down.

“You might be right, sir,” Vinnie replied politely. “But at least now we know there’s at least one pretty woman in Iowa.”

Alex nodded in agreement, beaming at Lauren.

Corey ignored the assertion. He had to or his mind might drift to less than pure thoughts.

"Hey, listen, babe, I have good news!" he continued.

Lauren’s face lit up when she learned about his interview. The date sounded familiar, but being on her third Hurricane, couldn't quite place it. Whatever, it didn’t matter. "That means you’ll be here for Christmas after all!”

Just then Alex elbowed her and pointed to the television. The second half was about to begin.

Lauren squealed at seeing the players take the field. “Wooo hoo! GO CYCLONES!”

Corey heard a mixture of boos and cheers from the bar crowd, followed by a sudden silence as the service disconnected.

Lowering the phone to his lap, he shook his red and gold shaker at the TV with lackluster enthusiasm.

Yeah, woo the fuck hoo.

+++++

The third quarter droned on in a boring defensive battle, allowing Lauren to get to know her new friends better. Alex's family was originally from Oklahoma, his family bought a cattle ranch in south Texas when he was just, as he put it, knee-high-to-a-grasshopper. Growing up in a small town, all he knew for 18 years was ranching. Just before his nineteenth birthday a drunk driver crossed the solid yellow line on a lonely two-lane state highway near El Paso and killed both parents. Losing the desire to return home and continue ranching, he finished school with a bachelor’s degree in marketing and, thinking he’d like to see the world, opened his own travel agency at age 25. It was modestly successful, but promoting Texas was not going to make him a rich man. He soon realized the real money – and adventure – seemed to be in Miami, where the travel industry is on a whole other level. Now at age 32, he was successfully booking lucrative sightseeing tours and cruises every day.

“And the cowboy hat?” Lauren asked with a grin, tugging on its brim.

“What can I say? I’m proud of where I come from."

She turned to Vinnie, placing an unsteady hand around a powerful bicep. “Watta 'bout you? Are you one of those guys that hangs out on the beach and lifts weights?”

“Me?” the dark-haired man chuckled. He handed her a business card. “Hardly. I’m a corporate videographer. HR films, holiday shows, all that jazz.”

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren continued to slur her words and squeeze his muscles. The Hurricanes were having a predictable effect and sitting between the two well-packaged hunks was most distracting. “Are you from Texas too?”

“No ma’am. Louisiana actually.” Just as Vinnie began to flirt a little, the Cyclones chose to score.

“In your face, in your face!” she jumped up and needled the men, cheering alongside the other Iowa State fans.

Alex shook his head in disgust and excused himself to the restroom. Vinnie offered to get more drinks and sauntered off to the bar. Lauren couldn’t help but follow the strapping young Texan as he made his way through the crowd. The tight western shirt highlighted a barrel chest that tapered nicely to a trim waist, disappearing into equally tight jeans. While he’d been sitting next to her watching the game, it was hard to miss the impressive size of his belt buckle, and what lie beneath. When Cartwright ducked into an alcove where the restrooms were, the Cyclone fan’s gaze connected with Sally’s across the room for just an instant, enough to see the waitress smile and wink. Smirking, Lauren looked away and dismissed her with a wave.

+++++

With six minutes left in regulation, the Longhorns were finally able to penetrate the Cyclone defense and made the score 24-24. The Cyclones responded in kind with a long drive that ate clock, resulting in another seven points, leaving the University of Texas little time on the board to counter. A quick three-and-out by Iowa State allowed Austin’s finest to get within field goal range, but that wouldn't be enough to even tie the game. When Lauren’s fourth Hurricane arrived, there was 1:32 left on the game clock and Iowa State led 31 – 27.

“You’re going down, Ames,” Alex pointed at her, shaking his finger.

Lauren laughed and grabbed the wavering digit, taking his big hand down to the table in a mock arm-wrestling match. She could have released it but chose to maintain her grip.

“No way, Austin, this game is OVER. O-V-E-R!"

“Longhorns by four!” the young man shot back confidently. He looked so cute, in a Howdy Doody sort of way.

Smirking, Lauren was feeling very randy now. Leaning into him, the growing fire between her legs and the rum coursing through her veins emboldened her. "Care to back up that up?”

“What are you thinking?” Alex grinned, expecting some silly wager.

“Cyclones win, I cook you and Vinnie a nice Iowa home-style dinner.”

“Well, that sounds pretty darn nice. And if the Longhorns take the game?”

Lauren’s smile widened and she gave him a devilish wink. “Then you and Vinnie choose your dessert.”

He hadn’t expected that. Maybe ”I’ll run around the bar singing the praises of Texas”. But certainly not that.

“I-I-I think you may have had a bit too much to drink," Alex nodded at her drink. He’d never been propositioned by a married woman, and this wreaked havoc with his Texan sensibilities. While she was definitely attractive in her form-fitting jersey and tight yoga pants, the ring on her finger was tough to get past. His parents had taught him to respect the sanctimony of marriage. She was drunk to boot, and he was not one to take advantage of intoxicated women.

“Yeah,” Lauren hiccupped, petting her mouth. She hugged his arm. “I guess I am a little tipsy.”

As they stared into each other eyes, one with hopeful lust, the other with indecisive bewilderment, the place erupted into cheers. The Cyclone defense had held, handing them their first win over Texas in many years. The pretty brunette tore herself away from the handsome cowboy and leapt to her feet, glad-handing other nearby Iowa State fans and singing their fight song. Minutes later she returned to the booth only to find it completely empty. Scanning the bar, Alex and Vinnie were nowhere to be found. They had simply vanished.

+++++

Corey bounced from the recliner and fist pumped the air. What a great finish! Excited over his team’s win, he awkwardly pranced around his living room and began texting everyone he knew. This was one for the history books! He was so proud of the players. They had a game plan and stuck to it! One by one, the texts were answered with an equal amount of zeal for the boys from Ames.

Crazed enthusiasm oozed from every pore as he read through the trash talk. There was one from Sean, one from Toby and a couple from the guys at work. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Then he noticed one message from which he had not yet received a response.

And it was arguably the most important one.

+++++

While it was only a short two block walk to the busy street where Lauren's apartment building was located, the early December nightfall and those damn Hurricanes caused her to veer way off course. After finding herself on unfamiliar streets, she finally spied the red aviation lights on the rooftop of her high rise to the south. Cursing at getting lost, the office manager began stumbling in that direction.

What the hell had happened to Alex and Vinnie, anyway? Like, I was a sure thing! Drunk, horny, and willing. Who'd of thunk those guys would play the noble knight card? If they’d been any other red-blooded American men, she'd be well on her way to getting fucked. Which was, Lauren decided, something she desperately needed that night. Corey’s fetish be damned; her hunger for sex at that moment had nothing to do with his gratification, and everything to do with hers.

While working towards the blinking red lights in the sky, the diminutive junior executive was now walking through a part of town that she’d normally shun. Smoke shops, adult movie theatres, and billiard halls dominated this stretch. Lauren nervously passed by a few of these, silently accosted by the lecherous eyes of homeless men laying on the sidewalk. The bright lights of the boulevard were only a block away, so she began walking faster, a spring in her step, wanting only to get home to a hot shower…and The Chairman.

It was then she became aware of a car which had slowed and was now rolling slowly next to her, matching her gait.

“Hey baby, looking for a date?” a man with a heavy Spanish accent asked.

“Hell yeah, I’m a football fan too!” another voice yelled from the old rusty Lincoln, referencing the jersey. “How much to score a touchdown tonight, muchacha?” Others in the car howled hysterically at the American football reference.

“C’mon, now, you heard the man. How much for little a amor, pretty lady?” the driver asked again, keeping pace with her. The woman was clearly wasted.

Lauren stopped and turned towards the large, dilapidated town car. Something about that last voice was familiar. Pure, genuine surprise washed over her and the two men in the front seat. Sure-as-shit, it was that dirt bag Raul and his buddy Juan. In the backseat, a third Latino man peered from a rolled down window.

Raul pulled alongside the wide-eyed woman. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again, Iowa. You remember, Juan, right? And that’s Hector in the back. What the hell are you doing in this neighborhood, baby? This is no place for a girl like you.”

All Lauren could do was nod. A girl like me? He had no idea. Oddly, it wasn’t fear she felt taking control; it something much, much darker.

“So, is she working or not?” the man in the back whined, not knowing of his friends’ earlier encounter. “If not, I know a broad in Overtown.”

Remembering how timid and white bread the brunette had been at the bar, Juan turned to the backseat with a hushed voice. “I don’t think she's on the clock, amigo. Cracker all the way.” Then to Raul, “Let get out of here, man. I got bad vibes.”

Raul agreed and began to pull away. “See ya round, Iowa.”

Inexplicitly, Lauren stomped her foot and called out as the wheels on the old car began to roll.

“WAIT!”

It stopped in squeaky protest as the Cuban tapped the brakes.

She took a deep breath, then strolled up to the battered ghetto cruiser. Putting her hands on her hips, she channeled her inner hooker.

“What if I, uh, you know, was working? How much?”

Raul smirked. This girl had never been paid for sex in her life. But he played along. “That’s usually something you’d tell us.” Then for emphasis, he added, “Puta.”

Lauren thought about that for a second. She kind of like being in the drivers seat. Or so she thought.

“Five-hundred,” she gushed, thrusting out her small chest like she’d seen the girls in the movies do. It was the first figure to pop into her head.

The men looked at each other. “Five bills for all three,” Juan stated flatly, making the terms clearer.

“I-I-I…” Lauren had actually meant each, but then, looking at the condition of their clothing and ride, understood they likely had nowhere near that kind of cash on them.

“Yeah, okay.”

She spent the next 30 seconds trying to comprehend what she’d just done. Lauren Miller, chief office executive with Rekrap Industries, mother of two and wife of a loving husband, had just negotiated terms for selling her body to three strangers.

Now what?

Hector kicked open the rear door and beckoned her to have a seat in the back. Cautiously, Lauren walked over and peered in. It was filthy, with a rancid, unpleasant stench. Discarded beer cans and several empty fast-food bags littered the floorboard. She wanted to puke, to turn and flee, run and scream that it was all a mistake. But something that night lifted her legs and made her slide onto the torn and sticky vinyl seat. Hector leaned across her heaving chest and closed the door, his foul breath snaking up her nostrils like a bad dream.

“Vamos!” he barked at Raul.

+++++

Corey threw another log on the fire and stood at the refrigerator door looking for dinner. He sighed. Leftover turkey…again. Removing the plastic container, he began making a sandwich.

While lathering whole-wheat bread with mayonnaise, the loving husband was still bathing in the glow of the Cyclones’ monumental win. He couldn’t possibly know just a few minutes prior, his beautiful wife had negotiated selling herself for a pittance. Nor could he have known that she had just climbed into a piece-of-shit Lincoln with three Cuban strangers who had every intention on getting their money’s worth. He didn’t see her nervous face looking out the window from the backseat as streetlights floated by, or the long fingers of a deviant caressing her leggings. And he certainly wasn’t aware when the long dark car glided to the back of a poorly lit dead-end alley, nestled amongst restaurant fryer grease containers, dumpsters and barred doors.

The project manager settled into the living room recliner, sandwich by his side, and channel surfed through various game summaries from several news sources.

Such a great contest! Iowa would not soon see another game like that one!

Sure enough, the jubilation had spilled over to the nine o’clock news.

While Corey ate the reheated turkey with purpose, his sexy wife was also voraciously swallowing a slab of hot meat well south of the Mason-Dixon line. Minutes earlier, Hector had started the party by lowering her head onto his swarthy, snake-like penis. “Chupa mi polla, perra!” Suck my dick, bitch! the strange man cried out as she deep-throated the thick cock. That was just the beginning. Lauren proceeded to use her mouth and hands on all three men, rotating between the front and back seats, until they had each shot their loads somewhere in the vicinity of her hair, face, and jersey. It hadn’t been easy, jockeying for room on the floorboards amongst the trash, but in the end, each man had cum, somewhat surprised at her youthful enthusiasm when they sprayed her with their sticky love.

Corey quickly dispatched the sandwich and switched to a streaming service. He was beginning to tire of local fanboy evaluations of Iowa State’s afternoon triumph. Unbeknownst to him, 1,500 miles away in one dim Miami alley, his lovely wife was also getting rave reviews.

+++++

“Such a NASTY bitch!” Raul exclaimed as he watched Hector’s cum drip from Lauren’s forehead. Ready to go again, a blowjob was not what Raul had in mind this time. Grabbing a fistful of black mane, the Cuban pulled the newly minted prostitute out of the Lincoln and slammed her chest against a door encased with wrought iron security bars. Fortunately, Lauren saw the metal coming and stuck out her hands, gripping the vertical slats before her breasts hit. The nose wasn't so lucky. As Raul pulled her hips towards him, it slid down the bars until she was able to maintain a grip. He cared not about the damage to the bitch's lily-white face. With one fell-swoop, the man pulled her leggings down, exposing a smooth, white pussy.

“Nice cunt, Iowa,” Raul snarled, grabbing the bald snatch. “Reeeeel nice. Me and the boys are going to split this little hole of yours until it bleeds.”

Hearing his words did not alarm Lauren; it merely triggered a torrent of fluids to flood the man's rough hand, belying just how turned on she was.

“Goddamn, this whore is in heat!”

With the top of her yoga pants now around her thighs, Lauren heard his pants drop, and the tear of a condom pack. Seconds later, the head of his wrapped cock was pushing past the folds of her pussy. He threw his head back as he gripped her hips and growled at the sky. “Uhhhhh, so tight!”

“OH GOD JESUS YESSSSS!” she squealed as her moist canal easily took the length of the big Latino’s dick. Her passionate cries increased ten-fold as Raul began to methodically fuck the little tramp in the middle of the desolate alley.

+++++

Corey fired off a few more texts about the victory, then turned his attention to the nationally televised late game. One of those last messages was to Lauren. She hadn't responded to any of his texts since early evening, and he simply wanted to reiterate how much he loved and missed her.

COREY: I know you’re probably too busy to answer, but I hope you’re celebrating the victory in some special way. Call later. Luv ya!

+++++

“OH GOD, FUCK ME!” Lauren shouted, “PLEASE, PLEASE, FASTER, HARDER! DON’T STOP!”

Raul was working up a real sweat as he pounded the mulatto cock into the slut from behind. He could see her white knuckles gripping the bars of the iron door and tightening with every thrust. Gathering her hair into a ponytail, he pulled hard, causing her head to snap back. Deep, guttural moans was all the pretty brunette could muster, with an occasional squeal piercing the warm, muggy air.

Corey was, of course, oblivious to the perversions that were happening right then in downtown Miami. He couldn’t see three men gathered around his wife in a half-circle in the back of a dead-end alley, illuminated only by a single amber dusk-to-dawn light. He didn’t hear when Lauren finally came at the top of her lungs from Raul’s forceful fucking, nor did he witness the Cuban tearing off the rubber and shooting his second load of the night over the back of her jersey, where most of it landed squarely on the name MILLER embroidered between the shoulders.

Spent, Raul stumbled back towards the car, affording Lauren the briefest of chances to turn around. What little makeup she’d worn for game-day was now starting to run. Hector stepped up, grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back against the iron gate.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?”

With her back to the metal bars, he forced her down on her haunches, where she found a slightly larger cock waiting for her. Slurping it into her mouth, she fellated him again, allowing him to fuck her face without mercy.

“SUCK MY DICK, WHORE,” Hector demanded repeatedly, eventually able to bury most of his length into her willing mouth. The pace was so torrid Lauren nearly passed out.

Finally, the Latino decided he needed more too. Stepping back, Hector pulled her to her feet by the hair and flung the lithe body on the Lincoln’s trunk. Sprawled on her back, Lauren gasped as Hector snapped her legs together and literally tore the thin leggings away from her calves, completely ruining them. The cute office manager winced as her delicate bare ass scraped over the car’s rough painted finish. Donning another condom, Hector flashed a gold tooth as he mounted the dripping hole. Lauren winced at the rough entry, and nearly gagged when he kissed her, his breath a mixture of sardines and old cabbage.

And just like that, yet another stranger was banging the loving mother of two.

+++++

Corey booed the atrocious call on the field, thankful the earlier game hadn’t had such poor officiating. He checked his message app. Still nothing from Lauren.

What could she be doing? The game was over at eight.

Well, there were several reasons why he may not have heard from her yet. Perhaps she went back to her apartment to do some work. Her department was very busy these days. Or her phone could be dead. Very plausible since she'd been at the bar all afternoon. Hell, she might even still out be out celebrating.

Celebrating? But who with? Amy wasn't a football fan, and to his knowledge most of her neighbors were native Floridians, hardly interested in anything that wasn't SEC. He recalled the earlier phone call where she’d introduced those two Longhorn fans. What were their names? Albert and Vin? Something like that. It didn't matter. Was she out with them?

Corey snickered. She wasn't an angel these days, but by God, if she hated one group of people, it was Texas fans. No way she was cavorting with them.

Amused by such a silly thought, he dismissed it and returned his attention to the game on the widescreen. More than likely she was simply enjoying a nice, long, hot bath.

The doting husband would have been surprised to learn that at that very moment, three oversexed Cubans had already provided his near naked wife with a different kind of hot, steaming shower.

+++++

Juan had always been a fastidious dresser, even under these circumstances. Looking around, he removed his shoes and chinos, then folded them neatly on the back seat. From there he could just see the top of the slut’s scalp as his friend Hector pounded her on top of the large trunk. Occasionally, the back of her head would smack into the rear window, causing it to rattle. He was a little concerned about how boisterous this one was. Her pleas to be fucked were echoing off the alleyway’s brick buildings and starting to draw attention. In fact, he’d seen as least two apartment window's above them blink on, then off. They’d been there for over 45 minutes doing this bitch, much longer than anticipated. It was time to go, but not until he got his money’s worth.

Unfurling a condom onto his sizable cock, Juan returned to the rear of the car just as Hector pulled out and was pumping volumes of his junk onto the belly of the whore. As his buddy’s cries of ecstasy waned, Juan shoved him aside and looked down at the white chick who seemed to be lost in some drug-induced trance. He grabbed the bottom of her jersey and pulled it over her shoulders. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the perfume before flinging it aside. Now clad only in a light bra and running shoes, Lauren stared up at the Latino with drunken expectation.

“Do me,” she panted. “Please! Just fucking do me!”

Smiling, Juan slid her butt down and off the trunk, grabbing a fistful of hair on her way down to keep her from toppling to the ground. Licking her face once, then twice, he yanked her bra up, exposing the little nubs beneath. Lauren gasped at the forcefulness in which he was taking control. Despite the palpable anxiety, Juan could see in her eyes just how aroused she really was. He'd seen unbridled lust before, but this was different. Almost...inhuman.

Leaning over, he sucked on her breasts, gently at first, but finishing roughly. She yelped when he bit the top of a tit and slapped the other. Laughing, the Latino slammed her onto the trunk face first, her exposed chest recoiling as it pressed into the bare metal. Spreading her ass cheeks, one hand still full of jet-black mane, he spit on the other, coating the pale pink hole puckering in front of him.

Through the fog of intoxication, Lauren slowly began to realize what was happening.

“NO! OH NO, I can’t,” she beseeched the big man, trying to turn towards him. Juan forced her head back down to the paint.

"Hold the bitch," he ordered his friends.

Hector and Raul obediently flanked Juan on either side of the car and held Lauren in place as their buddy pressed the head of his sheathed cock into her semi-lubed asshole.

“Please, not even my husband’s been there!”

Juan snorted and spit on the back window. “Then your hubby will thank me! Now be quiet, puta!” he snarled, spreading her cheeks again.

“NO!” she continued to plead. “God, PLEEESEEE DON’T!” It was no use. Her cries fell on deaf ears. The Cuban continued to work his tool into her back door. Slowly rotating his hips, he was finally able to finagle the head of the engorged cock past her anus, then another inch…and another.

Lauren felt a sharp pain that began in her rectum, then radiated to her hips, causing her to immediately tighten the chute.

"Easy, Iowa, easy," Juan spoke to her softly. "Just relax."

She did, and it helped. The pain, although still present, gave way to a fullness that was hard to describe. Juan felt the resistance melt away, allowing most of his length to slide easily into the widening cavity.

“Do it then, you bastard. Go on, fuck my ass!” Lauren figured fighting it would just prolong things. The quicker he came, the faster it would be over.

“Stuff the slut, amigo,” Hector encouraged his friend. “Pack her shit!”

Juan grunted a response and began working up a rhythm. The other men laughed when they saw Lauren’s eyes widen and her lips form the most perfect O. Hah, the whore was into it!

+++++

The night game was a dud. With the score 3-0 at half, Corey's attention was waning. He glanced at the unassembled moving boxes stacked in the foyer. What the hell, they won't pack themselves!

The first box he put together was a sturdy one with foam popcorn, the kind for storing photographs. One by one, Corey began folding the frames sitting on the built-in shelves in his office. Some had been there for decades. He stopped occasionally to reminisce. Here was the four of them during one of their annual treks to the amusement park. That one over there? Amelia’s baptism. Then there was Caroline's prom date. And, oh, this one? Lauren’s first attempt at skiing after they’d been married. The bunny slope had not been kind, sending her head over heels until she landed on her butt with skis dug in the snow. Corey had managed to get a snap of her laughing hysterically, although she was clearly in pain.

He couldn't have known at that very moment his wife’s eyes were squinting in similar discomfort, although a far cry from the mountains of Vail. Indeed, while he was busy waxing nostalgic, she was screaming with both anguish and carnal bliss as a man neither of them had ever met pounded her ass with his decidedly large Cuban meat. The pain and pressure was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And then there was, unsurprisingly, an almost overwhelming urge to defecate. Yet, through it all, Lauren had to admit a hint of untapped pleasure was certainly there.

“Mmmmpphhhhh,” Lauren gritted her teeth as Juan’s cock traversed her pulsing colon. Thankfully, even without much lubrication, the pain was slowly giving way to a more surreal euphoria.

“Oh baby, you’re ass is so tight!” Juan yelled, gripping her hips and watching his cock disappear into her ass. “Bitch, you’re gonna make me bust!”

”Use your words,” Lauren heard Amy whisper in her memories. ”Make him cum and it will be over.”

With her body pinned to the car, Lauren could only partially see the man behind her. Cheek to the cold metal, she used the only weapon she had.

“That’s it, motherfucker, fuck my lily-white ass!

“Get it all, baby, take every inch of my shit hole!"

“Oh, goddamn” Juan gasped, staring at her little buns splayed apart. “FUCK YEAH!” He thrust forward, burying the entire length of his cock in her bum.

“That’s it, pack it hard, you fuck!”

Lauren seized the opportunity, and with one final ounce of energy, contracted her sphincter tight, effectively locking Juan in mid-stroke.

“GODDAMN WHORE!” he screamed as Lauren’s anal muscles began milking the cum from his shaft. No man could survive that.

“Arrrrgghhhhhhhh!” Juan came loudly, jizz filling the condom’s reservoir. The steady pressure fluctuated, and because of the fullness, she could almost feel the beat of his heart as the snake convulsed deep within her. When he finally pulled out, her battered rear felt lighter, gaping and airy, with an almost enema-like exhilaration.

Finished, the Latino snickered and tossed the rubber onto the trunk next to Lauren. It landed with a splat, reeking of latex and shit. Raul reeled backwards, holding his nose.

"Really?" he gagged.

“Shut up. Let’s get out of here,” Juan barked back.

Lauren slowly slid from the trunk and watched the men zip up. Get out of here? Ohhhhhh, no, that would not do! They weren’t the only ones who wanted to cum again. Marching defiantly up to Raul, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” she whispered, repeating his friend's earlier question.

Surprised and more than a little shocked at her brazenness, the Latino allowed himself to be led to the backseat of the Lincoln, but not without protests from the other men. Kicking several empty 2-liter soda bottles out of the way, Lauren pulled him on top of her and frantically yanked his slacks down to his thighs. Without a word, she reached into her purse and removed another rubber, hurriedly ripping the package with her teeth. As Raul stroked her hair, she rolled it onto his still hard cock and unceremoniously shoved it into her dripping pussy.

Lauren was quite aware they'd been in the alley for now going on an hour, and she knew this had to be quick. Obsessed, the petite brunette wrapped her legs around the Cuban's hips and began thrusting upward in a desperate, almost pitiful attempt to use his tool as a means to cum. She clawed at Raul's back, holding him close but trying to avoid any real intimacy. Right then, Lauren didn’t want to be a mom, a wife, or a member of the church. She just wanted to be another whore earning her pay. A cumdump for these men who expected no more and no less.

Raul grunted non-stop as he pumped his manhood into the slut beneath him. Lauren closed her eyes and let the man brutally assault her, even savoring the roughness as it increased to a fervor. He pulled her hair, sucked her neck, and slapped the ass his friend had just got done pounding. The strokes into her pussy became longer, deeper, and heavier, bordering on painful, but also intensely pleasurable. She grasped at the man's ass, pulling him into her with every thrust. Despite her initial reluctance, they kissed passionately, exchanging hot spit as they melded together. Several times, she felt the sharp sting of his teeth as they sunk into her shoulder. The pain only made her want it more.

“Fuck me! Please PLEASE, don’t stop,” Lauren begged. "Don't EVER stop."

As the release she needed so badly was beginning to build, she could tell it was going to be a big one. How could it not be? An entire day of drinking was culminating right there in that alley, having whored herself out to three slimy men, one of them taking her anal cherry.

“YOU GODDAMN SLUT!” Raul roared, tossing his head back. There was no doubt he was getting close.

Hector and Juan chuckled at their friend’s outburst as they slid into the front seats and pulled out their wallets, waiting for him to finish.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, OHHH,” they heard the married slut wheeze repeatedly as Raul's cock pummeled the sopping cunt in the back of the big black Lincoln. Within minutes, both lovers were shouting unintelligible gibberish. Lauren could not hold back the events of the day any longer. Her cunt tightened around the Latino’s cock like a noose as she flooded the car seat with copious amounts of clear, slippery fluid.

“Yessssssss, YESSSSSSS!” the men in the front seat heard the sexy Cyclone fan begin to cum. The intensity of her moans grew louder, bouncing off the surrounding buildings and echoing through the fire escapes. The moans turned to groans. which became high-pitched berserk shrieks as she let go with one continuous, blood curdling scream.

“I’M CUMMMIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!! OH GOD I'M FUCKING CUMMING!”

Hector needed no more. As his balls pushed the last bit of sperm they could muster through his pulsating shaft, he ripped the tip of the condom off and yanked Lauren to an upright position between his knees. Although she was in the midst of her own bawdy release, the sight of the torn rubber dangling from the glistening cock was, in a word, delectable.

“Do it,” Lauren wagged her tongue at the dark head peeking out from the latex sheath. “Cum on my face!”

Raul grabbed his dick and pumped it once, then twice more. The fourth time, he grimaced, his eyes bugging out in ecstasy. The payload was predictably much smaller than the first two, sending only a couple thin ropes of nearly clear semen from the tip, barely making it to Lauren’s nose. It didn't matter. Her tongue lashed out like it was Niagara Falls, scooping the runoff from her nostrils as it trickled to her upper lip.

The men in the front seat looked on in amazement. They could hardly believe how nasty a married chick from the Midwest could be.

Shaking it off, Juan slapped Raul upside the head. “’bout fucking time, man. C’mon, pony up, we’ve been here way too long.”

Hector reached into the backseat and opened the car door. “Out, puta” he ordered.

The next thing she knew, Lauren was standing outside the Lincoln looking in. Some guy in a white apron came out of a barred door holding a trash can. Realizing she was naked except for bobby socks, tennis shoes and a bra, she tried to cover herself the best she could. The man, who had obviously seen similar hijinks in the back of his restaurant, just shook his head sadly as he emptied the can. When he left, Lauren frantically scanned the area for her clothing, only to find the yoga pants ruined, and her beloved Cyclones jersey laying in oiled stained detritus by the car’s right wheel.

As she pulled the jersey over her head, the large motor roared to life. Raul put the vehicle in reverse and rolled back to her, holding a stack of 10s and 20s out the driver’s side window. Lauren stepped forward but couldn't help hesitating. Right then, she was a lonely woman who was simply looking to get laid. Accepting payment for what she'd just done would immediately and irrevocably propel her into the oldest known profession.

Raul laughed when he saw the misgiving in her eyes.

“Go on, take it. There's no shame in making a buck. Women have been doing it forever. Why not take something for yourself? Believe me, you've earned it.”

Lauren looked both ways down the narrow corridor. No sign of the cook or anyone else. She took the thick bundle of bills with shaking hands, not bothering to count it. Did it really even matter how much was there?

In dramatic fashion, the Lincoln pulled away, flinging gravel in every direction. "See ya around, Iowa!" the men howled as the car bounced out of the alley and into the street, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

In the silence that followed, tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to adjust the soiled jersey. It was way too short to cover anything for any length of time. Without the leggings, there was no way to be modest.

What am I going to do?

Lauren's tears gave way to jagged little chortles. They began small but ended with her laughing uncontrollably.

She had done it. Corey had realized some of his own perverse fantasies at her expense, but now she had done this for herself. She had become like they were. Prostitute, whore, sex worker.

"Take your skank elsewhere before I call the cops!" a woman shouted from above before slamming a window closed.

Okay, definitely gotta go. But where?

It’s not like she could call a taxi or ride share like this. Amy was kinky but wouldn’t understand. Jack? Uh, no. Tommy? Away at school.

Chloe? Yes!

Lauren grabbed her phone and punched in the stripper’s name. “Please pick up.”

On the third ring, a young girl’s voice could be heard above throbbing club music. “Who is this?” She didn’t usually answer calls from unknown numbers and wasn’t quite sure why she had this time.

“Chloe!” Lauren blurted out. “Lauren Miller.”

It took a moment for the dancer to recognize the name.

“Lauren? Lap dance Lauren? Airport Lauren?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Oh hi. Nice to hear from you, but um, I’m working. Can I call you back?”

“Chloe, I need your help. I REALLY, REALLY need your help.”

The younger woman could hear the instability and fear in Lauren's voice. After a long pause, she asked her location.

“I don’t really know.”

“Okay, relax. Just send your location from your phone to mine. I’ll have someone there in less than ten.”

The junior executive did as she was asked and waddled to the mouth of the alley, ensuring she remained in the shadows. Lowering the brightness of her phone, lest someone detect her against the brick wall, she noticed several unread messages. The last one was from Corey. It contained a snap of an existing photo he had found while packing. Him decked out in a tux with a mullet, and she in a glimmering gown with big 80s hair. It had been taken during their first year of marriage on New Year’s Eve.

Assuming you are already in a deep slumber. Good girl. Heading to bed myself. Until we meet again, sweet princess.

Lauren brushed away one tear, then another, as they fell to the glass screen.

“Goodnight, babe,” she whispered to the wind. “But I'm no longer your princess. Just a two-bit whore for a price.”

+++++

[antidote2909]

Beautifully written. Can't wait for the next chapter.

Get well soon and I have to say I love Mrs Enigma's writing style a lot.

[Guhunkadorn]

Loved it!!

Great to see you - both - back and hopefully continuing to mend.

[kinkydetroit]

Great new chapter! Looking forward to where it goes from here.

[jap71]

Welcome back to one of the best stories on the site

[WannabeCuck26]

Just finished all the chapters and I’m in love with the Corey and Lauren dynamic. Can’t wait for new chapters to be posted! Truly a masterpiece.