Ascending Lauren

[SimpleEnigma]

[sigh]...if only Literotica's comments were so insightful and tolerant as the ones posted here, that site wouldn't be such a cesspool.

Chris, Lauren here...I don't think it much of a spoiler to say that - if we stay true to our personal experiences and those of our friends - it will not go down quite such a tragic path. That's not to make light of, or to ignore, the terrible consequences of hard drug use. Those of us who lived through the emergence of HIV and AIDs as a direct result of promiscuity and drug addiction would never dismiss these harsh realities.

However, while some authors may chose to take their characters down that dark path, we will chose to stick with the lives of our contributors, and the fact is, we all got through those free-for-all years unscathed.

That's not to say the next few chapters won't put Corey through the wringer. They will illustrate those years when Lauren (as a collective of me and my BFFs) put Corey (Simple and a couple of his buddies) through some pretty hardcore cuck stuff. Which, by the way, although uncomfortable for them at times, each says they enjoyed a great deal. Quite frankly, while we loved them and were cognizant of, and complicit in, their kinks, at times we were just wives/girlfriends who had been given the green light to fuck, and if we could throw their fetish a bone, we'd do it. If not...well, we still got laid. Hey, we weren't angels, nor proud of everything we did back then.


The point of my response here is to reassure that this story - while sometimes dark and depraved - ultimately celebrates sexual freedom. Folks will form their own opinion of whether this is a healthy thing or not, but from where we stand many decades later, we are still in love, still happy, and...I still get to date!

Hope this helps.

[gesdell]

I am surprised that you would allow comments on your Literotica Stories. They can be downright mean and have nothing to do with any part of the story. I appreciate your stories and others who take the time to create another world for the rest of us so that we can vicariously live in the "shoes" of the characters in your story. Without your efforts and other authors and people who just tell their stories and share pics, sites like this might not exist. One of my favorite characters in your story here is Zane, laid back and loyal friend, who has seen a lot and doesn't judge. Is there a real life Zane in your past?

[gesdell]

"She hoped he understood the fire he was playing with as her and Alex cuddled."
I hope she does too.
This has gone too far for me, the drug use sealed it.
Bye.

As somebody who was around back then, it really was the 60's on steroids when it came to drug use in the 80's, including drunk driving which was actually tolerated back then. These days people can go to an Alternative Therapies store and buy pot, but if you had even a joint on you, you could be looking at prison time if you didn't have a good lawyer. My point is that what society believes is bad now, wasn't such a stigma back then, and vice versa. I am sorry that you are abandoning a good story in the middle though, just don't watch the movie "Boogie Nights", and just switch to the Hallmark Channel.

[Chrislydi]

[sigh]...if only Literotica's comments were so insightful and tolerant as the ones posted here, that site wouldn't be such a cesspool.

Chris, Lauren here...I don't think it much of a spoiler to say that - if we stay true to our personal experiences and those of our friends - it will not go down quite such a tragic path. That's not to make light of, or to ignore, the terrible consequences of hard drug use. Those of us who lived through the emergence of HIV and AIDs as a direct result of promiscuity and drug addiction would never dismiss these harsh realities.

However, while some authors may chose to take their characters down that dark path, we will chose to stick with the lives of our contributors, and the fact is, we all got through those free-for-all years unscathed.

That's not to say the next few chapters won't put Corey through the wringer. They will illustrate those years when Lauren (as a collective of me and my BFFs) put Corey (Simple and a couple of his buddies) through some pretty hardcore cuck stuff. Which, by the way, although uncomfortable for them at times, each says they enjoyed a great deal. Quite frankly, while we loved them and were cognizant of, and complicit in, their kinks, at times we were just wives/girlfriends who had been given the green light to fuck, and if we could throw their fetish a bone, we'd do it. If not...well, we still got laid. Hey, we weren't angels, nor proud of everything we did back then.


The point of my response here is to reassure that this story - while sometimes dark and depraved - ultimately celebrates sexual freedom. Folks will form their own opinion of whether this is a healthy thing or not, but from where we stand many decades later, we are still in love, still happy, and...I still get to date!

Hope this helps.

Yes it's extremely reassuring when given such a thoughtful explanation of the context and how your principal aim remained to embrace having sexual freedoms within a more enlightened lifestyle that suited each of you, so thank you for this it was much appreciated. As gesdell posts above the Literotica comments are so notoriously unforgiving you think most of them are written before even reading a sentence. Some are just professional haters who get their kicks from posting abusive diarrhoea about lifestyles and kinks they can't or won't even try to understand.

Chris

[SimpleEnigma]

gesdell,

Appreciate your response. We actually do have comments turned off on the other site simply because of the toxicity and the reasons Chris so accurately describes. Unless, ahem, someone forgets to turn them off when publishing. There is already too much hatred in this world without us contributing to it by allowing negative exhaust from assholes. We do get a lot of great PMs from there though, so there is still communication. You can read our thoughts on comments on our profile for that site. Honestly, I believe most of those commenters simply have masturbation remorse and lash out as a way of flogging themselves (pun intended). At least on this site no one denies spanking the monkey or jilling from time to time.

Zane is indeed an interesting character, borne from a couple guys in a few life arcs of those in our circle. One was indeed a biker. Not a one-percenter, but close. He is one of our best friends and me pushing Lauren into his arms is one of the more accurate depictions in this storyline. I may have mentioned this in another post here, but the other gentleman was a guy whom another couple knew when they lived in a very liberal city in California. They are members of this site so I'll be intentionally vague. Their daughter discovered their lifestyle and, being the wild child she was, wanted to be a part of it. The tale, as related to us, was that she wasted no time in seducing their neighbor who was one of the wife's bulls. There are other juicy episodes involving them and their daughter but whether we are allowed to tell them through the Miller personas will be up to them.

Thanks for reading.

[seles]

Lauren keeps pushing the boundaries, I love it!
Solid 5 stars from me!

[mooshscuck]

This is the best story ever!
Lauren is amazing and the whole setup is perfect,
keep it going, please!

[mooshscuck]

On my way to Miami, perhaps I'll meet Lauren

[SimpleEnigma]

This particular episode graciously goes out to the couple whose tale it tells (you know who you are and we love you). Lauren and I will be waiting for that phone call and our rewards.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

*************************************************************************************************

February 1st. Three weeks to go.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.”

The captain’s calm voice lilted over the intercom like an old friend.

“Welcome aboard flight 1977. We apologize for delays, but as I’m sure you know by now, the Midwest was hit with a substantial winter storm overnight and we had to let that push off to the east. I’m not sure why anyone would want to leave sunny Miami for the frozen tundra that is Iowa right now, but since you’ve chosen to do so, Captain Pierson and I will make sure you get there safely. Our flight time is around three hours and forty-five minutes, which puts us in Des Moines about ten-thirty. We’ll give you an updated forecast as we get closer. Flight attendants, please prepare for takeoff.”

Lauren Miller sighed. Yes, trading sunshine and seventy-degrees for ice and snow was ludicrous, yet the purpose of her trip was clear. First and foremost, to help pack ahead of selling the house. Soon the realtor would begin aggressively marketing it and they had to be ready to vacate upon being sold. Second, she felt the need to test her husband, Corey. In just a few weeks he’d be moving in, and assuming their current lifestyle continued, Lauren needed to know just how far she could push without breaking him. It was for his own good, really. He had started all this, and it was clear there was no going back to a vanilla couple. Her reward, of course, was the great sex and knowing Corey’s fetish was satiated. His prize, though, was more complex. A strong leader publicly, he'd slowly morphed into quite the beta behind closed doors. And this, as she found after tons of research, was completely normal for men with his kink in positions of power. There was myriad of reasons why an otherwise powerful alpha would get off by relinquishing control and being sexually humbled, but it didn't matter why. Corey himself couldn't explain it and she stopped trying to understand. While it was true their sexual appetites had changed, at the end of the day, it was still him and her against the world, as it had been for the last thirty years. Meeting his emotional and physical needs were of utmost importance, even if it seemed cruel to outsiders as she drove him to a precipice of pleasurable misery. Living apart, there was little opportunity to administer aftercare, so that had to change. Especially if things went as planned.

But first, she needed to know how far he wanted to be pushed and challenged. She knew he still liked to make love to her, but there were also indications he just preferred to watch. And that was okay. Although she liked the intimacy it brought, actual sex with Corey anymore was mediocre at best. No surprises really, given his age. Beyond watching, he also showed signs of savoring the humiliation aspect so many cuckolds craved. On one level, this disturbed her, mainly because it was hard to be mean to someone you loved. But she'd gotten past the reluctance by reading up on the fetish and all its flavors. If his psyche could take it and it truly got him off, where was the harm? Besides, it was a bit of good fun for her too, seeing him wallow in the bed he'd made.

Lauren smiled as the plane rose through the clouds. If only her husband knew of the plans to raise the bar, to elevate and enable his predilection, he may not be so eagerly awaiting her arrival.

+++++

Corey Miller leaned against the master bedroom doorjamb in the couple’s soon-to-be sold suburban home, arms folded and beaming. Two hours prior, he had met his wife at Des Moines International, sighing with relief upon touchdown. An overnight winter storm had left many flights in limbo, but eventually most had been able to get through. As he inched closer to passenger pick up, he smiled and she waved back, acknowledging his presence, but not quite able to reach him. One hand each on a rolling suitcase, Lauren looked good, rocking hip-hugging dark brown corduroy low-rises, a black leather belt with silver double grommets – a nod to their heavy metal days – and a blue jeans jacket draped over a beige turtleneck sweater. Hardly dressed for Iowa in February, all her warm clothes were in garment bags back at the house. And although it’d only been a month since he’d seen her last, she looked different. Again. Seemed there was a change every time they were away from each other.

Shivering by the time luggage was stowed and she pulled herself into the cab, Lauren turned up the old truck's heater as far as it would go. For several moments, Corey could only sit there in the middle of traffic, taken aback at his wife's appearance when she pecked him on the cheek. Still absolutely stunning, the makeup was even heavier, darker than he'd remembered. Sluttier, if that was possible. Really slutty. A result, no doubt, of her running with a younger crowd.

“What?” she had asked, buttoning up the thin jacket, seemingly oblivious to the reason behind his pause.

“Nothing."

Deciding against saying anything, he put the pickup in drive and pulled away. What would be the point?

“Just glad to have you back home.”

+++++

And home she was now, unpacking and fussing about how the house looked with moving boxes everywhere.

“A bit messy, yes, but you look great,” Corey complimented his prodigal wife, caressing her arms as she hung up clothing bought for the reunion. "Different makeup?" he fished. There, he'd said it.

Lauren smiled. "A new line that's all the rage down south." She turned into his arms and gave him a more proper greeting, kissing him for a good thirty seconds without coming up for air.

Sluts R Us? Corey thought humorously.

Her hands squeezed his biceps. “You been working out?”

"As a matter of fact," he puffed out his chest and curled his arms, "yes. Zane’s been helping me train.”

“I’m so glad you boys are hanging out again. It would be a sin to breakup decades of friendship over…you know…”

“You?”

Lauren scrunched her nose in annoyance and shot her husband a playful look as she rearranged her closet. “And who's idea, pray tell, was that?”

Corey held his hands up in surrender and backed away. Spying a pair of black leather combat boots with metal studs, he tried to sneak a peek at the shimmering dress it was paired with. Lauren slapped his hand away before he could see beneath the thin opaque protective plastic.

“That’s for this weekend,” she barked, shooing him away. “Now, how about making us some drinks?"

+++++

Lauren finished and placed the empty suitcases in the hallway closet. Moving to join Corey downstairs, she looked over the banister and onto the first floor of the beloved house. The sight of the for-sale sign in the front yard had caused tears to well up in her eyes. Little wonder. This is where she’d raised her kids, lived, loved, and cried countless times. Letting her fingers trace the railing while descending to the foyer, imagined voices from distant memories called out to her. There was the family portrait hanging on the wall alongside the staircase. Below, on a credenza, Amelia and Caroline’s soccer pictures seemed to talk, retelling stories of that glorious goal. On the piano, a large ten-by-twelve of her and Corey’s wedding day, full of hope for a prosperous life together. And there...there on a door frame, came the sawing sounds of the pocketknife that was used to notch a height mark for every year of the girls’ growth. Well, through junior high anyway, when they discovered boys and suddenly thought the practice to be too babyish.

In the kitchen were yet more reminders of a life that seemed insignificant then. The table where she’d strategized softball games with other coaches, planned bake sales, discussed bills, and listened to years of high school heartbreak stories.

Had it really only been seven months since she’d moved? It seemed like forever. And as nostalgic as these things were, Lauren couldn't imagine being those same people again. And not just because everyone was older.

Corey walked in, handed her a martini, and frowned. There was no mistaking the melancholy showing on that pretty face.

“It’s difficult, isn't it?” he empathized, gathering her into his arms.

Lauren nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, holding him tight, tears running down her cheeks. Thank God she had this man. He was her one constant…her rock. She could get through anything if she had him.

“Hey, sexy,” Corey lifted her chin, kissing her soulfully. “How’d you like to help me pack the basement?”

+++++

Across town, the motorcycle repair shop Zane Picardo worked for was without power, knocked out by an earlier storm. Taking advantage of the time, he decided to pick up his house. It hadn’t had a good cleaning since the divorce, and he wasn’t much for dusting or straightening. Nor was he a pig, so out came an ancient vacuum cleaner. All was good until the master bedroom, where the machine ground to a halt when ran under the bed.

Shit.

Examining the tip, he found a pair of women's panties clogging the intake. Although he still did well with the ladies, his Casanova days were long over. Thus, he could count on one hand who the potential owners might be.

Leopard skin.

Had to be Caroline. Picardo sniffed the crotch. Definitely. Even though her scent had faded, the memories were as fresh as the open road.

Sex with the twenty-seven-year-old had been more frenzied than with her mother. Certainly, more limber. Compliments on his size were also an ego booster, especially after seeing the QOS tramp stamp on that young ass. He’d seen a couple black cocks in the locker room, and being in the same class as those, well....

Lauren was a better fuck, though. Dirtier, into it, her filthy mouth knowing exactly how to push buttons. To the women's credit though, they both liked it rough, a testimony to shared genes. Neither minded being smack around a bit, proving just what submissive sluts they were. Their enthusiasm for sex was something he never would have suspected. Corey was truly lucky for being able to tap Lauren whenever he wanted. How his aging friend kept up with her, Zane would never know.

To be honest, being with Caroline had left him emotionally torn. True, he'd been seduced by both, his mighty attempts at resistance whittled away by their charms. Did he regret it? On some level, yes. Screwing Lauren, even though Corey initiated it, had driven a wedge in their friendship. If those two ever found out he had slept with their daughter, there would be hell to pay.

But he couldn’t undo any of it now. Thinking with his dick and not his head was something the mechanic would just have to live with. Crumpling the panties in his hand, he debated throwing them away or keeping them as a souvenir. Mailing them back to her seemed stupid. On the other hand, they might come in handy when jerking off to those pics she'd sent him of their night together. After contemplating the latter, the biker put down the electric broom, laid on the bed, and pulled out his phone.

Now is as good of time as any to try them.

+++++

Corey maneuvered a wobbly shopping cart between the refrigerated tubs holding bacon, whole chickens, and other meat products. He had an uncanny knack for always getting the one with a fucked-up wheel. Checking the weather while Lauren selected some steaks, he noted the storm that had delayed her flight was moving off east. That was good news since they were to leave for Ames in the morning. Not that it was a long drive, but it would give the road crews enough time to clear most of the snow. Check-in to their hotel wasn't until three in the afternoon, but Lauren wanted to arrive early on-campus for reunion registration. God forbid they miss out on any of the fun, with Friday starting things off with mixers and parties, and the main event on Saturday, which included a sit down dinner, an era appropriate band, and open bar.

“Glad to see you again, Mrs. Miller,” the butcher exclaimed as she walked back to the cart, his eyes riveted to a little ass tucked nicely into pale-yellow waffle yoga pants. At least until he saw Corey watching, causing him to look away.

The guy couldn't possibly have known the rousing effect even a small amount of ogling had on her husband. While Corey had become used to Lauren turning heads over the years, any attention she garnered these days had new context. There was a certain thrill knowing that others were oblivious to the things his wife was capable of. The good-looking guy they just passed in the condiment aisle? No clue that the dark-haired MILF would've blown him out back had he simply asked. The emo girl with a nose ring and colorful ink stocking the vegetable shelves? Likely a shoo-in with the older woman who had just asked her where the black-eyed peas were.

To other shoppers, the couple appeared as happy and monogamous, out doing their weekly grocery shopping. None knew that the grayed haired man's wife was a complete slut, and that her twisted husband fully approved. And that's where the titillation came in. But as warped as the pair was, there was still plenty of perversion to go around. It didn’t keep the ketchup and mustard shopper from turning his head to surreptitiously gawk as Lauren's yoga ass waddled by. It didn't deter goth chick from eyeing her customer's body while showing where the can goods were. Both, in fact, appeared to use the same brand of makeup. Corey couldn't blame them. After all, his wife's ass was stellar, and there weren't too many hot women in the middle of an Iowan winter sporting a deep, natural tan.

+++++

The Miller's next stop was at the church. During home visits, Pastor Adams had always commented on how much he liked an old mahogany china cabinet that sat in the main hallway. Since it was just one more bulky item to put into storage, Lauren felt a need to donate it to a good cause. Perhaps it could find a good home in the rectory.

As Corey and a janitor offloaded the heavy piece from the truck, Adams chatted with Lauren and expressed how sad he was to see them go. Given her social media posts, he secretly had doubts about her new life in Florida. From what he'd seen, the woman he always counted on for organizing bake sales and bingo night - and dressing appropriately - was doing anything but these days. And her provocativeness appeared to have captured the attention of lots of men.

“Doing just fine,” she replied cheerily. “We even volunteered in the soup kitchen over the holidays.”

“Glad to hear that, child,” the cleric nodded. “I see you’re making all sorts of new friends.”

Lauren was surprised at the remark. “You're online? You follow me?”

He smiled kindly. “Of course. You must've forgotten accepting my friend request when you first moved. I take great interest in my flock. I follow them wherever the divine wind takes them.”

“That’s g..great,” the ex-bingo caller replied, forcing a smile. She wished the men would hurry up with the cabinet.

“Lauren, as you know, Miami is a city filled with God's beauty, but also sinful, earthly pleasures. It would be easy for a woman of faith to stray from God’s word. Especially when your husband isn't there.”

As if on cue, Corey cursed loudly behind them when a finger got jammed against the tailgate. “Sorry Reverent,” he apologized before wheeling the furniture inside.

“Thanks for the advice, Pastor Adams," Lauren agreed. "It is hard not having Corey around, but that will soon change.”

The skeptical vicar nodded again. “Glad to hear it. I hope I'm allowed to visit if I’m ever down your way.”

“Of course, our door is always open.”

After saying a brief prayer, the couple jumped back in the pickup and waved goodbye to the preacher who had once heard their wedding vows.

Corey looked over at his wife while navigating out of the parking lot. “What was that all about?"

Lauren just peered solemnly out the window. “He knows. I don't know how, but he knows.”

+++++

That evening played out like thousands preceding it. Following a nice rendition of a favorite pasta dish, the long-married couple curled up on the couch together like they’d done so many times before to watch TV. Corey had been rock-hard since catching the butcher staring at Lauren’s ass and needed relief. A particularly steamy scene between a movie’s main characters seemed to provide an excellent opportunity. Already nestled in his arms, he began nudging her neck, planting kisses on that soft skin he missed so much. A burly hand found its way to the yoga pants’ cameltoe, and a single finger began caressing its groove tenderly. Moans and heavy breathing were followed by a deep, passionate kiss. It was looking promising until he placed her hand on tenting trousers.

“Not now.”

Corey stopped in mid-kiss, visibly frustrated. “Seriously? It’s been over a month.”

“I know. That’s why it will be so special if you fuck me.”

“If? Special? What’s the hell is that supposed to mean? We’re not virgins anymore, Lauren.”

She simply laughed and pulled away. “Let’s go to bed.”

+++++

The slighted project manager was nearly asleep when his wife turned off the light and slipped beneath the covers wearing a full nightie. He frowned, realizing she’d been home for a whole day and he’d yet to see her naked.

“You awake?” she asked, spooning behind him.

“Yeah.” There was no attempt to turn towards her, even when a dainty hand slid over his chest. He was clearly miffed about being rebuffed.

“You’re mad.”

“Why would I be? We haven’t seen each other for over a month. Last time I checked, we were still married. So, what’s to be mad about? I mean, hell, that about matches the rate we had sex before anyway. Guess there’s something to be said about my replacements. I mean, after all, as long as you’re satisfied...”

Lauren winced. She had expected resistance. Resting her chin on his neck, she whispered into his ear. “You wanted this, remember? We talked about it when you visited. You want to experience the full breadth of your…your inclinations.”

“I also want to fuck my wife. Yet you have no interest.”

“That’s not true.” The pretty brunette pulled herself closer. “I have plenty of interest.” The tip of a finger began to roll around his areolae. “Your little fetish is a bit of an enigma. Did you know that abstention can be a very powerful aphrodisiac?”

“I don’t want to abstain. I need to cum.”

“Who said anything about not cumming?”

The small hand moved down the sixty-one-year-old’s salt-and-pepper chest to his pubic area. She could feel his body flinch.

“Are we okay?” he asked.

“In what way?"

"You know. Us."

"Yes. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Tex.”

Lauren paused. Apparently, he had heard the pillow talk between her and Alex. Her hand went to his cock, which was its usual flaccid three inches.

“He’s nice.”

“Is he your boyfriend now?”

Lauren bit her lip to suppress a giggle.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to date.”

“There are other guys to date.”

“True,” she whispered, “and I want to fuck them all.”

That got a grunt and a huge exhale. Corey kept his eyes shut as her hand closed around his growing erection, imagining his wife being passed around at Miami parties.

“Do you want me to stop...us?”

He put his hand over hers. “No. Do you?”

“No.”

Fingers danced on his floppy dick. It grew another inch.

“When you were in Miami, you said you wanted me to go at you hard. Is that still true?

There was a sharp inhale this time. Lauren could feel the spongy flesh hardening.

“Yes,” he said gently. The soft four was now a firm five.

Lauren slowly told of her encounter with the shy neighbor Luke…but conveniently omitted the part about the doorman’s video and how she retrieved it.

“You’re such a tramp.”

You have no idea, she thought. “Wait ‘til you hear about the traveling salesman.”

Corey was his full six inches by the time she told the tale of her and the Turk having sex in the rental.

“Jesus.”

“Uh huh. Your whore wife got picked up in a bar and fucked in the backseat of a Buick...by a stranger...in a garage. Whatta you think about that, Twisty?”

More grunts.

She studied his face, trying to gauge his reactions.

“How hard do you want me to go sweetie?”

“I don’t know.”

Lauren frowned. That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. It was important to know how much he could take without incurring emotional collateral damage. She continued to pump his cock between her hand.

“Just a few more weeks and you’ll be with me again,” she cooed, nipping his shoulder. “Then you’ll be able to see firsthand what a slut I’ve become."

Corey’s shaft involuntarily pitched and lurched.

“Will you help me get ready for my dates?”

Corey laid flat on the mattress, clutching a pillow with both hands and drawing it alongside his cheeks. His face was a picture of ecstasy.

"Yessss."

“Help me pick a dress out.”

“Hmmm.”

“That only they get to take off. There are certain things my boyfriends can do now that you can no longer.”

“Oh God, Lauren, no. Not ready.”

Corey's body told her otherwise. Meaty hips thrusted upward into her hand, cock begging for release.

“Bullshit. You’ve pushed me into their arms, gave my pussy away without a fight. You don't deserve the same privileges.”

Nothing but soft whimpers. She was pegging his cuck meter and knew it.

“Do you like hearing how they destroy my cheating cunt, perv? Much...better...than...you...ever...fucking...could!”

Corey's entire body shuddered. The crafty wife knew he was ready for the litmus test.

“Your best friend sure did. Fucked me silly. How’s it feel to know the man that handed you my wedding ring in the church made me cum more in one day than you have in months?”

Corey’s eyebrows furrowed as his head thrashed from side to side, his torso twisting in her arms.

“Did you have any idea when you introduced me to him at that concert that I’d be sucking him off years later?”

“No, GOD, PLEASE! I'm sorry."

“Well, I'm not. Zane said if you could no longer satisfy me with that puny cock of yours, he certainly would.”

A hand shot out and gripped her shoulder, blue veins popping from beneath calloused skin.

“All those years, all those parties, all those softball games...and the real man was just over your shoulder.”

“Ohhhhhhhh Myyyyyyy Gawwwd!”

“He owned my pussy, my mouth and body that night.”

“Gunna...,” Corey wheezed, “I’m gunna…”

“All my lovers own me, baby. They pound my married cunt like a rabid animal while I scream their names. NOT YOURS, THEIRS!”

“I WANT TO TOO!”

"No can do. New rule. My pussy is only for my boyfriends now. After all, I want to cum when I fuck.”

“What?”

Lauren's hand was in overdrive now, practically degloving him. Precum was slinging everywhere, making everything slick as snot. Corey felt an overwhelming urge to cum, somewhere between misery and bliss.

“That's right, Twisty,” she whispered in his ear. “No more pussy for you.”

There it was. The implication was too much. A coup in their relationship, the wielding of control that provided much needed grounding. Corey felt his balls contract, blistered cock pulsating under her fingers. He was finally going to blow, to unload, to release the anxiety that would make it all worthwhile…

“Eh, no," Lauren suddenly released his wabbling shaft, turning away while his body convulsed uncontrollably. "Sorry, not tonight.”

Mouth agape, Corey cried out in disbelief as he felt the semen that had been rocketing from his balls suddenly hit a wall. A sadistic, brutal wall.

“W-w-why? Oh, God…why?”

He could hear Lauren giggling beneath the comforter.

“I told you...it will make it even more special if we ever make love again.”

“But…”

“Go to sleep, perv.”

Corey sat up, wiping remnants of the ruined orgasm on his hands. Cringing from the painful tightening of his now blue balls, he ran to the bathroom, desperately trying to get back the arousal. But it was too late. His wife had successfully ruined any chance of him pleasuring himself that night.

Back in bed, Lauren lay still, listening to her husband's frustrated grousing. Without a doubt, what she’d done was beyond cruel. But at least she had an answer.

The bar had indeed been raised.

+++++

February 2nd.

Corey tossed a suitcase in the trunk of a small rental, then carefully hung dresses and his suit from hanger hooks next to the backseat windows. While he trusted his truck, he didn't trust the unpredictable Iowan weather, and so had rented a car for the forty-five-minute drive.

The sun had just broken the eastern horizon when the couple pulled out of their driveway and turned north towards Ames on I-35. They rode in relative silence until Lauren reached over and held his hand.

“You okay?”

Staring at the road ahead, Corey just nodded.

“Too much?”

She didn’t have to explain last night to him. In his post-ruined orgasm clarity, he’d realized it had been a test.

"No, but it would have been nice to, you know...not have blue balls. Did you mean what you said?"

"About making love? There will be a time and place. You dug it, though, right? Being put in your place? Being denied?”

Corey smirked. Put in my place? Denied?

"I think you've been reading a little bit too much on the subject, but yeah. Just don't expect me to start calling you Goddess.”

“We'll see about that,” Lauren joked, not really laughing. “Maybe we need a safe word.”

“Isn’t that just for S&M stuff?”

“No. Safe words help establish boundaries, so someone doesn’t get hurt. Pain doesn’t always come from whips and chains. Words cut too. I don’t want you getting more than you can bear.”

The perverse logic of that could not be overstated. There was no way mainstream society would ever understand its tenderness. Torment the one you love...so it brings them pleasure. It was a notion few would ever comprehend.

“So, what will it be?” Lauren asked sweetly, squeezing his fingers.

“A safe word? Hell, I don’t know. Listen, you do know registration isn’t until nine, right?”

“I know, but I want to look around campus first. It’s been almost three decades since either one of us has been there. Do you know they have a new administrative building?”

Corey nodded. “And they’ve done a lot of upgrades to The Jack as well. Definitely want to see that.”

The two smiled at each other, talk of safe words deferred to another conversation. Right then, they wanted to just relish in the bond that was their alma mater. They hadn’t attended during the same era, but once a Cyclone, always a Cyclone.

The rest of the trip was quiet. There was no traffic to speak of, and they were content to nurse grande lattes while listening to soft rock. When Corey peeled off the interstate at exit 111a to University Drive, he finally asked the question that had been the elephant in the room.

“So, is he coming?”

Lauren turned her head to the passenger window to hide her smile. “I wouldn't know.”

That was a bold-faced lie. To be honest, it was more than that. She'd been in contact with her ex-boyfriend for weeks. Looking back at her husband, she feigned innocence, hiding behind those luscious black bangs. “I guess we’ll find out, won't we?”

The reunion committee had chosen their weekends wisely. The school was on a short break and even for a Friday morning, the campus was relatively dead. Most in-state students had taken advantage of the hiatus and went home, leaving just a handful milling about in coffee shops and the library. Even Greek houses were dead.

Corey drove slowly past the sororities until Lauren squealed at the sight of her old house, Kappa Omega Omega. He smiled as she put her fingertips to the window, channeling the memories that came flooding back.

“Lotsa great times there,” Lauren chimed happily.

“Better times were ahead.”

She patted the top of his hand. “Yes, yes they were. And are."

The couple rode around for a while longer, killing time, checking out the football stadium and fieldhouse. To get to the auditorium where registration was, they had to pass Alpha Sigma Beta, Paul Anderson's old fraternity. Corey purposefully looked away from the street corner where he used to wait for Lauren after she'd spent the night with the frat boy. A light chuckle erupted from the passenger seat as they passed.

"Hey, isn't that where you waited for me and jerked off?"

With a quick swerve, he careened into the admin building's parking lot, sending Lauren flying against the door and bottoming out the rental.

"You want to register or not?"

Lauren was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. Turning off the engine, the beleaguered husband sat staring at a banner hung between two large pillars.

Welcome to Your 30th Reunion!

The Fun Starts Here!

Corey took a deep breath and sighed.

Just shoot me now.

+++++

The wait at the registration desk was a short one. While the staff was distracted putting together Lauren’s packet, Corey managed to peruse the class attendance list. A lump formed in his throat when he saw the name Paul Hamilton with a green check mark next to his name.

Fuck.

Lauren couldn't help noticing the color drain from her husband’s face. She handed him a small bottle of water from a basket on the desk, knowing full well the reason for his sudden paleness.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Corey shook his head, gratefully accepting the drink. “Not yet,” he croaked.

Only the guard at the exit door saw the small, crooked smile forming on the pretty brunette's face as they left.

En Passant.

+++++

Registration complete, and with some down time still before the first event, the pair walked off-campus to a nearby area both used to haunt, where restaurants and bars had served hungry and thirsty college students for generations. Known simply as ‘the strip’, it was a delight to see it flourishing. The names had changed, and no doubt owners too, but they were still there.

Not that the couple had ever frequented them together. Graduating ten years earlier than Lauren, Corey had moved on from that scene by the time he met her. In fact, a thirty-one-year-old guy on campus, unless a graduate student, would have been viewed with great suspicion by students, as either a cop or a creep. But the area’s longevity spoke for itself, and Lauren spiritedly recalled her dates taking her to Bart’s Meet House for dinner, and then talking about those dates with girlfriends the next day at the now defunct Taco Heaven.

“There were many dates?” Corey asked as they grabbed a table at Bart’s for some breakfast.

“A few,” Lauren replied dismissingly, unfolding a napkin on her lap. “Boy, this place sure hasn’t changed much.”

Corey had to agree. With much the same configuration as when he had eaten there forty years ago, little was different. Well, maybe the paint color. His gaze was pulled to a corner of the room where he and his buddies used to come in before basketball games, sometimes drunk, sometimes not. Strangely, those memories were replaced by visions of Lauren sitting in a booth with one of her dates, flirting, laughing, his arm around her shoulders. She wore what he thought she might have back then, a black and white polka dot top and those high-waist cotton multi-color pants that were all the rage. Young, fresh, alive…and oh so fuckable. That familiar tingle tugged at his crotch.

Unfortunately, Lauren’s phone drove those titillating images from his head, his wife’s then twenty-year-old breasts fading to vapor.

“Hello?” her eyes narrowed and flitted about, as if trying to recognize the voice at the other end. Finally, she turned in her chair and spoke softly.

“Oh, hi Griffin.

“Okay, sure, Griff it is. How are you?”

Her eyes glanced sideways at Corey, then back to the floor.

“That sounds like fun, but I’m out of town for a while. Can I call you when I get back?

“Perfect.”

Turning around, she tossed the cell in her purse.

“Griff?” Corey sneered, suddenly not hungry.

“Just a guy I met in a club last week. He was originally hitting on Amy, but we wound up together.”

“Together?”

“Dancing, silly. Just dancing. Anyway, he’s really cool. Owns a media company or something. Knows Vinnie Amato, Alex’s friend. Vinnie’s in that biz too.”

Corey rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Small world.” This was a perfect example of how much he didn't know about his wife's new life.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren smiled at him over the plastic menu, eyes twinkling with delight. “Jealous?”

“Well, I am your husband.”

“A husband who wants his wife to date. Comes with the territory.”

The two fell silent when a waitress stepped up and ask if they were ready to order.

“Welcome to Bart’s. Must be in for the big reunion. Having a good time so far?”

Corey lowered his head and muttered.

"Fucking amazing."

+++++

The first activity that Friday afternoon was a kick-off mixer with the entire class for initial meet-and-greets with light finger food. Current and retired professors stood in a row, waiting to greet their past students. Occasionally, shrieks of delight rose from various parts of the room as old friends recognized and hugged one another.

Corey followed Lauren around dutifully while mingling, reading name tags and getting reacquainted. This was an all-class event, so there was only a half-dozen or so people she actually remembered. He received a few odd looks from her old friends who no doubt were taken aback by the stark contrast between the couple’s age. Some of them had never met Corey, and those that had, remembered a dashingly handsome thirty-one-year-old, not the tired looking, pudgy gray-haired guy standing before them.

Whatever, he thought. There were plenty of fat fifty-year-olds there too. What was their excuse?

“Lauren? O…M…G! Is that you?” a short-haired blonde woman hollered from across the room, bowling over others to get through the crowd.

“Addison? Addison Petronowski?” Lauren yelled back. “Are you shitting me?”

A tall, sandy-haired gentlemen finally caught up with the blonde.

“It's Patterson now. Lauren, this is my husband, Sam. Sam, Lauren. Lauren and I were inseparable for four years.”

Sam Patterson held out his hand to the Millers. “Glad to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Lauren replied, “Addison, you remember my husband Corey, from our wedding.”

Addison smiled kindly at the older man. As a bridesmaid, she seemed to recall him being a bit more…put together. “Y-y-yes, of course. Wow, you’ve certainly changed.”

Corey shook her hand, pretty sure that wasn't a compliment. “Thanks.”

Realizing her remark didn’t come out quite the way she meant, the woman hugged them both tightly, laughing nervously. “I mean, we’ve all changed, haven’t we, huh?”

The foursome shared a chuckle before Sam excused himself to use the restroom. After a few minutes of catching up, Addison asked Lauren if she was going to Victoria Barlowe’s party after the evening’s ceremonies. Victoria was part of their posse back then. A super rich slut, but great fun.

“Her and her hubby’s holding it at their hotel suite. It’ll be a cool way to get ready for the big dance tomorrow night.”

Lauren looked at Corey who simply raised his eyebrows as if to say, “it’s your weekend.”

“Sure,” she replied with a grin. “Sounds great. If they don't mind us coming.”

Addison texted Lauren the name and room number of the Barlowe’s hotel. “Ten o’clock, right after the awards. And they won’t mind at all. In fact, it upset her she couldn’t invite you personally. I’ll let her know.”

Sam returned from the restroom and slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “Just received a message from our hotel. Room’s ready. Shall we head over?”

Corey looked at his watch and nodded at Lauren. “We should check on ours too.”

The two women ‘toodled’ and promised to meet at Victoria’s party later that night.

Walking back to the rental, Corey sighed with relief. No Pauly Hamilton yet. So far, so good.

+++++

“Can you hand me the large silver hoops, babe?” Lauren asked, pointing at the hotel’s dresser. “First drawer, left side.”

Corey located the earrings and handed them to his wife. Already dressed in khakis and a blazer, he sat down in a chair and waited, admiring her beauty. To think in just a few short weeks, he’d be able to enjoy this view every day. And she was exceedingly lovely that night. Wearing a black cotton blouse with sheer, dotted-pattern long-sleeves, it exuded elegance with a lot of sexy. Tucking it inside black denim jeans, she pulled on a pair of tall brown leather knee-high boots to complete the look.

“Wow.”

“You like?” Lauren smiled, heartlessly giving him a dose of bedroom eyes.

“Absolutely.”

Corey didn’t just like, he lusted. Watching her apply that dark, slutty makeup, he wondered what was behind denying him the pleasure of those lips around his cock. And again, like at home, the bathroom door had remained locked while she got ready. Day two of her being back and still he’d not seen her naked. Tonight, that would change. It just had to. Surely, she was just teasing about a new rule. Everyone knew hotel sex was the best and what better timing?

Perhaps this reunion thing was going to be okay after all.

The only one that could put a damper on it was dickhead Hamilton. Hopefully the guest list was wrong. Corey wasn't concerned about any old one-night stands lurking about. Drunken flings typically had no enduring emotional connections. But with Pauly…well, he’d be burying his head in the sand to not acknowledge the frat boy and Lauren once had a thing. A genuine thing. The question was, were feelings still there? On top of that, any meeting between the two would surely be awkward. After all, Corey did steal the guy's girl.

Lauren tucked her skinny jeans inside the knee-highs and zipped up the boots.

“Ready for our first night back in Ames?”

Nodding not all that enthusiastically, he watched that tiny ass waddle into the hotel hallway, hoping for an early evening.

+++++

That night’s award ceremonies turned out to be more entertaining than expected. Several alumni and professors put on skits, spoofing college life back in the eighties. The current Cyclone cheerleader squad came in and did their routines, and football coach Glen “The Torch” Gladstone made a speech, comparing Cyclone seasons year over year. That was especially cool, and by the time they were ushered to a hall for a reception, Corey had to admit he was having a pretty good time.

While Lauren schmoozed with her college peers, the elder graduate introduced himself to The Torch and sparked up a conversation about Midwestern sports of bygone eras. It was a fun discussion, until noticing Lauren had wandered over to the vestibule and was talking to a younger man in a suit that cost as much as Corey made in a month. Close to her age, buff and well-coifed, there was something familiar yet unfamiliar about him. Maybe the curly hair. It wasn’t until they hugged that it became clear, forcing Corey to stop in mid-sentence, invoking concern from the coach.

Fucking Paul Anderson.

“Are you okay, son?” Gladstone asked. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Corey tore his eyes away from his wife and her ex-boyfriend. “Sorry. I believe I have.”

+++++

“Is that him?”

Lauren nodded, looping her arm through Pauly’s, side-glancing her husband to make sure he was watching.

“Older than I thought,” Anderson admitted, taking a drink of his beer. “Can he still get it up?”

“Always drunk, always the jerk. Now I remember why I broke up with you.”

“We had some good times, Boo.”

“Yes, we did. So, your text said you were divorced now?”

Pauly shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Guess I’m unlucky in love.”

An awkward silence fell over them as music played in the background.

“We could have been something together.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Look, it’s simple. You were ‘party-on’, I needed more. Corey was the stability I was looking for.”

“Did he love you more than me?”

“More? I can’t answer that. But you know our love was based more on teenage lust than anything. Besides, love wasn’t really where your talents lay anyway.”

A mischievous smile crept across his face. “So, you do remember. Care to relive some college memories?”

“Same old Pauly. You’d have me cheat on my husband?”

“I’d have you any way I can get. Seems to me you were pretty good at cheating.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Touché.”

They both glanced over at Corey, who had now bailed from his conversation with the coach and was staring a hole in them.

“Going to the Barlowe’s party tonight?”

“Maybe. Me and Matt might hit the bars.”

“Matt Sanders? You guys are still friends?”

“Off and on.”

“You really think fifty-year-old men are going to impress psyche majors?”

“Would going to Victoria’s buy me anything?”

Lauren grinned. “Maybe.”

Pauly touched her elbow and whispered. “Then I’ll be there.”

+++++

For Corey, time seemed to stand still as he watched the pair seemingly pick up where they left off three decades ago. These days, he’d normally be aroused watching her talking with other men. But not this one. Not Paul Anderson.

It had been him he’d taken a back seat to when first meeting Lauren, settling for a handy when he knew good and well she was sleeping with the senior. It had been the street outside his fraternity house that Corey had been banished to, waiting, knowing what was going on in his room.

Truth be told, that three-way relationship was the beginning of his fetish, where the tinder had been set, only to be kindled after years of normalcy. He remembered those cold mornings, waiting patiently outside Pauly’s fraternity, bemoaning the nasty things she was doing that was not yet Corey’s fortune. Wishing there was some way to watch through the second story window, imaginations fueling arousal until hands left the steering wheel to creep beneath his jeans.

This is where it had all started. Would it end differently this time?

+++++

“I thought I recognized the little shit,” Corey exclaimed as the couple made their way to the Barlowe’s hotel. He was most interested in what his wife and her former lover had to say to each other.

“Nothing, really, Cor. Just stuff.” Lauren had an unusual spring in her step and he was having trouble keeping up.

“Like what?”

“Stuff. Kids, work…you know. Asked how I like living in Miami.”

“He…he knows where you live?”

“Not my address, goofy. Just social media.”

“Like a stalker?”

“NO! Not like a stalker. This isn’t some movie.”

By now, he was out of breath, trying to match her steps one-for-one.

“What else did he say? Anything about me?”

Lauren stopped so quickly, her overly inquisitive husband ran smack into her back. Without turning, she licked her lips at the opportunity to tighten the rachet.

“If you must know, yes.”

“Well?”

With bated breath, Corey stared at her back and the gorgeous shiny black mane hanging past her shoulder blades, tapering, pointing to a remarkable ass.

Stifling a giggle, she began walking away. "He asked…if you could still get it up.”

+++++

There are times in our lives that we do foolish things. Some are done without realizing they’re dumb. Some are just impulsive. And others? Well, others are just plain stupid. The latter is exactly what Corey was thinking when he knocked on the door to room 1501 in the Beaufort Heights hotel.

“HEY, HEY!” Addison shouted when she opened the door, promptly blowing past him to hug Lauren. Inside, eighties music blared, light marijuana smoke cast a haze over the suite, and a half dozen or so couples were milling about, drinks in hand. With much fanfare, the old friend guided the new arrival by the waist through the doorway.

“Look who’s here, bitches!”

A cacophony of cheers went up as women left their significant others and gathered around the giddy brunette, each one taking turns hugging her. Not having seen each other in decades, it was indeed a joyous reunion. Eventually, Lauren remembered Corey back in the hallway and pulled him in, making introductions. Besides Addison and her husband Sam, he barely recognized others who had attended the Miller’s wedding eons ago. He had to relearn their names as well as the others, including hosts Victoria and John Barlowe, Charlotte and Quinn Sheehan, Alice and Wyatt Chastain, and Eva and Benjamin Turner. All were at least ten years younger and, to Corey’s dismay, much fitter. Figuring a good stiff drink would help with forgetting their names for another thirty years, he left Lauren to her friends and poured himself three fingers of Makers Mark, neat.

“Makers. Excellent choice. I prefer Wild Turkey myself when I drink brown,” a man with dark red hair disclosed, endorsing the Kentucky whiskey.

“Both do the trick,” Corey agreed, noting the guy's striking resemblance to a popular puppet from the golden age of television; puffy cheeks, freckles, and all.

“Joe Silva. Alum?”

“Corey Miller. Yeah, but not this generation.”

“Seventies?”

“What gave it away?”

“You’re a little more silver than the rest of us. I saw you come in with Lauren Regal. You guys together?”

“Twenty-eight years,” Corey looked on as his wife bubbled like a teenager on the other side of the room.

“Good for you. Must have something special to pry her away from Pauly Anderson. You know him?”

“In passing. Special?”

“Oh yeah. They were among the tightest couples on campus. Everyone was sure they’d get married after graduation.”

“Close, huh?”

“All of us were. Sporting events, birthdays, road trips, you name it. Paul’s house threw the best parties. Wild shit.”

“How wild?”

Silva laughed. “Let’s just say we broke some rules.”

Another round of cheers rose above the din. Corey’s heart sunk when the newest guests walked through the door; Anderson and some other guy that was just as big and burly.

“Speak of the devil,” Joe grinned. “And his sidekick Matty. Fraternity brothers and best friends. Crazy fuckers.”

Both men appeared to have retained their popularity too, given the gauntlet of high fives and fist bumps they received. Matt held up his hands to encourage the crowd's praise.

What a dick, Corey thought. Sometimes you don't need to meet someone to know you're not going to like them, and Sanders was definitely one of those. A lanky six-footer with perm-quality curly blondish-white hair, he was an obvious narcissist.

But if one thing was clear, their arrival sure catapulted the party to a new level. Up went the volume on the boom box. Joints circulated and glasses clinked as stories old and new were told. There was a certain feel of homecoming amongst the good friends, and as the evening’s conversations settled into an even ebb and flow, it was apparent outsiders would have to find their own entertainment. Not wanting to impede Lauren’s fun, Corey made himself scarce, settling in a chair in the corner. After nearly an hour of checking his phone and drinking, he decided to step out for some fresh air on one of the suite’s two balconies.

The one off the main room was surprisingly large, enough for several people. Roomy for hotels anyway. That contrasted significantly to the Juliet off the master bedroom twenty paces away, fifty-feet of free-fall space to the ground below. Outside, he found one of Lauren’s old friends had had the same idea.

“Corey, right?”

“Yes, and you’re…Alice?”

“Yup.”

“The cold air is refreshing, isn’t it?”

Alice smiled. “Considering it smells like a Metalshank concert in there, yeah.”

“Hah! A blast from the past. One of our favorite bands.”

“Lauren always was into the hair bands. I hear they’re on a fortieth anniversary tour with a Cedar Rapids date. Maybe you can catch them.”

“That would be awesome, but we won’t be in Iowa much longer.”

“That's what I hear. A big step you know, moving from a place you’ve lived all your life. From the looks of things, your wife has assimilated quite nicely.”

Corey nodded slowly. She really has to stop posting shit. “I’m lucky to have her. Meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’m sure it was. She was head over heels for you too, even though most of us thought you were too old for her. Not to mention it was the worse thing that could have happened to Pauly. The guy was crushed. Moped for months. Some even say he went looking for you.”

A wry sense of satisfaction nibbled at the older Cyclone.

“I didn’t know that.”

Alice turned and looked her friend’s husband in the eye. “Look, I’m happy for you both. Twenty-eight years. It takes a lot of love and hard work to stick with one person that long, so you must be doing something right. Just watch your back, honey. I don't think Paul ever quite got over her. He might still be looking for payback, if you know what I mean.”

So much for the fresh air helping things.

Without another word, the well-meaning but ominous alum strolled back inside. Taking a deep breath, Corey let the cold night air envelope him in an attempt to wash away negative thoughts. It was working too, until the creak of double French doors from the Juliet balcony just yards away opened and the profile of a woman with dark hair appeared in the doorway.

A hand reached out and gathered the mane into a pony-tail.

“It’s much longer now,” a man’s voice whispered.

“He likes it that way.”

Corey's heart began to sink as he made himself small against the outside wall, counting on their visibility to be as poor as his.

“So do I.”

The hands moved to the woman's shoulders. Orange light from a flickering street lamp confirmed his suspicion.

Lauren.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet you are.”

Another flicker removed any doubt as to whom the man was.

Paul Anderson.

“Do you still feel it?”

Lauren moaned softly as her ex-lover's lips kissed her neck.

“I knew it,” he proclaimed, nibbling an ear. “Do you ever think of me?”

A sigh, followed by yet another moan. She crossed her chest and patted a hand on her shoulder. Corey felt torn between stopping this or seeing how it played out. He chose the latter.

“I knew it. When Lauren? When do you think of me?”

"While...while he fucks me."

This time, it was Corey that emitted a small, involuntary groan. He pressed the back of his head against the outer wall, hoping it’d not been heard. Her words of emotional betrayal cut deep, but stirred his loins as well.

I AM broken.

Lauren slipped into her best dramatic acting, banking on the shadow she kept seeing on the other balcony to be that of only one person.

“I can't help it. Our lovemaking was..."

"Amazing."

Lauren nodded and spun around, embracing her past love. "Yes. I've never forgotten your big cock and how it used to make me cum, over and over and over again. He's got a big heart, but not so much down here.”

Pauly gasped. Corey's lips quivered, knowing she was touching him. Inexplicably, he groped his own cock through his linen pants. It twitched and lurched.

Why was he afflicted with such a dark scourge?

“I can’t,” Lauren pushed away, turning her cheek.

“What? Why? You screwed around on me. Fair’s fair.”

“We weren’t married. There’s a difference.”

"Really? So all those guys I see ass-patting you in those media posts are just friends? Whatever."

And then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the pair was gone. Corey pointed his budding erection downward into his briefs to hide it and rushed back inside just in time to see the ex-couple emerging from the master bedroom. To his relief, there was no signs that anything other than a kiss had taken place. That didn't keep someone from yelling “get a room” though, to a smattering of laughter, which quickly diminished when they noticed their friend's husband was amongst them.

Correctly judging the tension in the room, Addison grabbed a spoon and repeatedly tapped an empty champagne bottle to divert attention. Time to shift the party in a more focused direction.

Ding, ding, ding, ding!

“Okay, boys and girls, take your seats,” she yelled over the music. “It’s time for some fun and games!”

Lauren rejoined Corey as the couples took their seats. His subdued mood told her he’d heard everything. Perfect. Although neither of her lovers, past or present knew it, everything was going as planned.

+++++

Corey awoke the next day to find Lauren had already left for morning brunch with her former sorority sisters. Grateful for a few more hours to nurse his hangover, he fluffed a pillow and pulled the covers over his head, thinking back to the previous evening.

”I've never forgotten your big cock and how it used to make me cum…”

The very thought of her thinking of Pauly while making love had slapped Corey upside the face, leaving him numb for the rest of the party. Like most husbands, he had never suspected her mind wandering to former lovers, at least not until recently during their pillow talk. Back then, it would have broken his heart. But now? Well, if the wood sprouted on that balcony – and now again under those sheets – was any indication, it only fueled his overbearing kink. He had hoped the champagne and tequila shots would put her in the mood to break that silly ‘new rule’ after they left the Barlowe’s, but sadly, it was not to be. He’d come to bed only to find her fast asleep. Another day gone without seeing her naked.

Now, at quarter past ten on a cold, sunny Ames morning, with returning erection, Corey did what any married man does when faced with time to kill in a hotel room and a wife who wouldn’t be back for at least an hour.

He turned on the TV and promptly subscribed to the in-house Pornovision.

Fap, fap, fap.

+++++

By two o’clock, the couple had shaken off any hangover remnants and attended a reception with current and former university deans. There were some nice speeches, and Corey was even able to chat with one of the deans whose term had spanned his four years. Next was a walking tour of the campus, where alumni were shown improvements made with their contributions, and of course, at the end, there was the predictable opportunity to show their Cyclone loyalty once again. The whole time, neither talked much, and there was no mention of the previous evening.

After that, former students were on their own until the big formal dance that night in a ballroom just off fraternity row. Back in the hotel room, Corey was thankful for the down time, content to watch college basketball while Lauren got ready. Once again, the bathroom door remained locked the entire afternoon. Twice he had to run to the lobby just to pee. Finally, minutes before the ball began, she emerged, dressed in a floor-length, one-shoulder sheath evening gown. Navy blue in color, the bodice was slightly transparent and covered with sequins, her braless breasts begging to be seen, but never quite accommodating. It left little to the imagination and anyone caring could make out the mouthwatering areolae and nipples. The skirt, not to be outdone, was split up one side to the waist to tantalizingly expose most of the leg. Gone now was the slutty makeup, replaced by a more toned-down palette of colors, and her arms were decorated with a series of chic sparkly bangles. An elegant lady was the best way to describe what stood in front of him.

“My God, you’re…breathtaking.”

Lauren twirled and curtsied. "Why, thank you, my love.”

Corey stood and took her in his arms.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“And you the same.” She gave him her best doe eyes, but he could sense there was something else.

“What’s on your mind?”

Clearing her throat, Lauren brought up the subject of a safe word again.

“Why do we need to discuss that now?”

“Please, Corey?”

He leaned over and kissed her, then grabbed his suit coat and shrugged it on. Glancing back at the unmade bed before closing the door to the hallway, he envisioned them under the comforter, entwined in passion. Tonight, of all nights, rules were meant to be broken. Especially silly ones.

“Jezebel.”

“Jezebel? The bad girl from the bible? That's the safe word?”

Corey smiled. “If the shoe fits, my dear.”

+++++

The couple looked their finest while walking the short distance from their hotel to the ornate ballroom located at the end of Greek village. All the big reunions were held there and it was easy to see why. Boasting numerous crystal chandeliers hanging from gilded ceilings, walls flowing with waterfalls, and floors polished enough to see ones reflection, it impressed all strolling through the front doors.

Corey checked their coats and headed to the bar while Lauren searched the large room for the placard which held their name. To her disappointment and his relief, none of the revelers from the Barlowe’s party were at their table, forcing them to make small talk with other alumni they’d never met. One particularly obnoxious woman insisted her and Lauren had taken an English class together but was clearly drunk. Thankfully, dinner was served soon after taking their seat, followed by more speeches from the former class valedictorian and reunion organizers. By the time the last dessert plate was removed, and the bar reopened to the sounds of eighties dance music, Lauren and her friends were ready to get their groove on.

Armed with a fresh Old Fashioned, Corey was content to sit at the table and be amused by the girls' antics as they tried to remember long forgotten dance moves. Although biased, Lauren was by far the prettiest there. Many of the others hadn't retained their youthful shape the way she had. Chubby chins, cankles or droopy chests, most had been bit by the spread that begins as one approaches fifty. It went without saying that his wife grabbed the limelight – and the attention of other former male classmates - who didn't hesitate to fill her dance card. Occasionally she pulled her reluctant husband away from his bourbon for a few slow songs, but when it came to the faster ones, he was better off in his seat.

Two hours and many drinks in, a now well-oiled Corey happened to be coming out of the restroom when he passed Joe Silva from the night before, heading to the exit with another man. Discreetly revealing a vape pen palmed in one hand, Silva nodded towards the rear door. Hesitating, Corey looked back into the ballroom, where Lauren was still cutting up with friends and dance-walking her way from table to table. Figuring he wouldn’t be missed for at least a few minutes, he followed the guys outside and down a dark pathway alongside the building. He was surprised to see the venue backed up to several fraternity houses. Students could be seen walking to and from each, a muffled mixture of hip-hop and rap blaring from within.

“Not much different, is it?” Joe posited as he sucked the pen and passed it.

Taking a small hit, Corey agreed. “Besides the tunes, no.”

“Hair is a lot shorter,” the other guy, Mel, added, “and no parachute pants.”

All three groaned, remembering the popular but tacky clothing.

Soon the discussion turned to Cyclone sports, a subject the older graduate was well versed in. He wowed his new friends with vast knowledge of useless university trivia. Championships, lowlights, who made the pros and who didn’t but should have. He would have gone on forever if it hadn’t been for the hourly chimes of the clock in the quad. Realizing they’d been standing in the freezing cold for nearly an hour, Corey took another quick hit, thanked Joe, and ventured back into the ballroom just as the DJ began playing one of his and Lauren's favorite slow songs. Feeling melancholy from all the weed and whiskey, the lit and suddenly philosophic husband searched for his wife, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, have one last dance, and take her back to the hotel where he'd profess his love. The only problem was…

She wasn’t there.

Not on the dance floor, not at her friends’ tables, not in the lobby. A quick chat with the coat-check girl confirmed her coat was still there.

Lauren had simply vanished.

As Corey began banging out a concerned text, he heard a raspy voice from behind.

“I'm afraid she’s not here.”

Wheeling around, he saw the abrasive English major from dinner.

“Come again?”

“Left about thirty minutes ago.”

“Left? Why?”

“How would I know? But she was pretty tipsy. Probably needed some fresh air. Some guy she’d been dancing with took her out back.”

Damnit! Had to be Pauly.

“Where?”

The woman pointed to another set of doors towards the rear of the hall, separate from those he and Joe had went out earlier. Corey's concern grew considerably. The bastard hadn’t been there all evening. Now he shows up when I go outside?

“Listen, not my place to say, but the guy seemed a little handsy. Was wondering why you hadn’t put a stop to it but looks like you were unaware. Given her condition and all, I’d find your wife asap.”

Bursting through the metal double doors at full speed, Corey skidded to a stop when he hit a path with a three-way fork. To the right, just around the corner, was where he’d been vaping with Joe. To the left was a parking lot. Straight ahead, a small, elevated bridge weaved through several gardens and courtyards to fraternity row.

Now what?

They could have been anywhere had they gotten into a car, and with all the security at Greek housing these days, it was unlikely Pauly would have taken her back to his old house. Anyone over twenty-five, much less near fifty, would not go unnoticed for long. Still, there wasn’t many choices and he had to do something. After sending a text to Lauren – which went unanswered - Corey started towards the raised trellis when his blood ran cold. Hanging on a decorative spike, like someone had found and left it for the owner, was a blue sequined bangle. It could have only come from one person. Breaking for the bridge, he trotted towards the grandiose buildings that made up the pike and didn’t stop until huffing and puffing onto a corner which provided a most familiar view. It was the same stretch he’d sat in his car years ago and blew loads of jizz into a hanky while waiting on Lauren. The same street where the seeds of his kink had been planted. The same place that had provided her with a good, deprecating belly laugh just yesterday; a clear, twisted attempt at turning the humiliation screws.

Looking both ways, Corey crossed the street and tried to look disinterested as he cased the two-story brick frame. There was little movement inside, but the front door had a keypad on it, preventing anyone from just waltzing in. He had about talked himself out of the possibility that Lauren was there when two boys exited a fire door about half-way down the structure and propped it open with discarded rebar. Lighting a cigarette, the two strolled into the darkness of the backyard, the fiery cherry of the cancer stick glowing bright with every drag. It was now or never. Summoning courage through the hazy fog that was his brain at the time, Corey glanced up and down the street before dashing across the lawn and pressing up against the house’s outer brick wall.

Cautiously, he slinked along the rough façade, avoiding prickly bushes and trying to ignore what the mortar was doing to his suit coat. Finally reaching the side door, he paused, grimacing at the moisture from the mulch beds seeping through his Italian patent leather shoes. As the two kids shared the smoke out back, Corey eased open the door and slipped through, careful to replace the metal bar so as not to betray his presence. This led to a stairwell and decision time. Without a clue as to whether Lauren was even there, he considered the layout of most fraternity houses. On the ground floor would be common areas, including party rooms and a dining hall. Upstairs would be sleeping rooms and perhaps a parlor or two. Thankful that most of the students had gone home for the long weekend, he began to inch up the stairs to the second floor, only to freeze when the two smokers came back in.

“Hey,” one of the boys blurted out, acting as surprised to see him as he was them. “Lost or somethin’?”

“Just looking for some friends of mine,” Corey smiled back nervously. “Guy about my height, curly hair, and a woman about the same age?”

A knowing grin crept across their faces.

“Yeah, we saw ‘em. From the reunion. There was another guy too. Shorty was fire.”

“Here?”

“One of them gave Franco a Benji to use his room. I think it may have been one of theirs a long time ago.”

“Number?”

“Twenty-nine, at the end of the hallway.”

Fifteen seconds later, Corey was on the second floor, slowly creeping down the corridor towards the other end. The concrete tile was sticky and lined with that night’s empties. Hip-hop and rock blended in bizarre dissonance. Every now and again, a door would open, and a half-naked body would burst into the hallway giggling, just to disappear into another room. Coming upon number twenty-nine he hesitated, then poked at the curled handle. The lump that had vexed his throat the entire weekend suddenly felt like it was going to burst through his neck.

As the door swung open and the room came into view, Corey’s heart sank another octave. There, on a dingy old couch, sat his wife flanked by her ex and his old fraternity buddy, Matt Sanders. Just inside, two teenage boys stood leaning against a wall. All five stopped talking and stared at the older man as he stood in the doorway.

“Hi babe,” Lauren giggled, squirming between the two men, “glad you could make it.”

Pauly hoisted a bottle of cheap tequila and took a drink, his eyes spying the blue wristlet hanging from Corey’s pocket.

“I see you found our clue, my man. Bravo.”

Corey’s eyes narrowed. Clue?

Anderson twisted the cap shut and tossed the liquor to one of the kids.

“Have another. Your pals downstairs did us a solid, making sure Mr. Miller here found his way up.”

“Found my way?” Corey started towards Lauren. “What the hell is going on…?”

He didn’t get far. The frat boys grabbed each arm and blocked his way. Sturdy and unyielding, there was no way he would even take one of them, much less both.

“Lauren, let’s get out of here.”

Lauren put her arms around Pauly and Matt and ran her fingers through their hair. Looking out from under her black bangs with the sultriest of smiles, she gave her husband a definitive “no.”

“No? Why?”

“Its not part of the plan?”

“Plan? What plan?”

Pauly stood from the couch, a twinkle in his eye. “We’re going to have our own little reunion. Here, in my old room. Courtesy of Franco and his buddy Ted, of course.”

“Reunion?”

“Relax, you’re invited too. In fact, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Corey shrugged the big paws off his shoulders and straightened his suit coat, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. “You led me here?”

“Actually,” Anderson replied, helping Lauren up and putting an arm around her, “your wife did. All the way from Des Moines.”

“Come again?”

Matt motioned to a chair in the corner of the room. “Have a seat, gramps.” Corey started to say something but stopped, seeing the two meatheads at the ready. He scowled at Sanders and sat down.

Pauly continued. “Turns out this innocent woman here isn’t so innocent after all. But you already know that don’t you, having given her the green light to be a slut? What kind of man does that? I mean, for real?

“No matter. You see, a couple weeks ago your loving wife contacts me out of nowhere and asks if I’m coming to the reunion. To tell you the truth, I was floored. Haven’t seen her since…well, since you stole her from me. Says she wants to see me but doesn’t tell me why.”

Corey caught Lauren’s eye; she simply curled up one side of her mouth in a haunting, evil smirk.

“But earlier today, while you're sleeping off a hangover, she asks me to meet her at her old sorority. Tells me how you like to watch her screw other guys and have your nose rubbed in it. I'm thinking, wow, that is one fucked up dude."

The other men nodded their heads in agreement.

Trembling, Corey began to hyperventilate.

Anderson stepped behind his ex and clasped her shoulders. “Surprisingly, she wants to give you what you need. And along the way, she gets lots of cock. A win-win, wouldn't you say?"

Looks of pure lust tented every pair of pants in the room.

Pauly’s hands slipped down and found the dress’ zipper pull. Lowering it one tooth at a time, her bare back became slowly exposed until it reached her waist, the material nearly slipping away from her braless breasts.

“Tell us what you need, man.”

Corey’s mouth ran dry. He said nothing.

"C'mon...tell us!"

Frustrated by the older man's silence, Anderson pulled on Lauren's hair sharply, yanking her head back.

"Does he even fuck you anymore?"

With a quick shake of the head, she threw the first dagger. "Barely. And when he does, I can't feel it."

"Yeah, figured that. While else would you be here? Then tell me what you want, baby."

Hair still held tightly, head snapped to one side, Lauren whispered.

"I want...I need real men to fuck me."

"Like us?"

She glanced around the room, looking each man in the eye with a fire burning, eventually landing on Corey.

"Most of you, yes."

“Then take this off,” Pauly commanded.

Every eyeball in the room was on the alluring vixen as she allowed the top of the gown to fall away from her braless chest, pale white itty-bitty titties completely exposed and framed by the bikini top tan. The two teenagers elbowed each other as Matt leered at her brownish-pink nipples, now rigid stalks begging to be sucked. A sight he’d often dreamed about back in the day, but never got to see, it had been no secret he’d coveted his best friend’s girl. Corey and Pauly simply gasped, the younger man staring at the breasts he hadn’t suckled in decades. They were as he remembered, albeit a bit more…flimsy.

Savoring the men’s attention, Lauren placed one hand on her ex-beau’s shoulder and unbuckled her heels. With dramatic flair, she let the rest of the dress flutter to the floor. Dressed only in high-rise panties, waistband to her navel, she turned and straddled Matt as Pauly sat back down. Sanders wasted no time groping both breasts and rubbing those hard nipples between his fingers. Tossing her head back, eyes shut tight with discernable arousal, she let him play with them for a bit as others in the room looked on, entranced. Rubbing her chest in his face, Lauren put her arms around Matt’s neck and began humping his crotch. She cried out when his tongue gave her tits a tongue lashing.

“Jesus Christ,” Pauly sputtered at Corey, “what has she become?”

Matt’s hands travelled up and down her bare spine, grabbing tight ass through the silk panties.

“Ohhhhhh…”

Seeing Pauly next to them, Lauren slowed her rocking and leaned sideways, a hand molding to the bulge in his trousers. With her nipples being slurped by one man, she fumbled with his zipper and fished a cock she’d hadn’t held for many, many years.

“Yes, Boo, yes,” Anderson groaned.

Eyes lighting up at the fleshy member, she slipped off Matt’s lap and fell to her knees between the two men, saliva glistening on her chest. Moments later she had two cocks in her hand, masturbating both. After several minutes of pleasuring with her hands, Lauren looked over her shoulder at one of the boys and gestured towards her purse on a nightstand.

“Be a dear?”

Nodding, Franco pushed off the wall he was leaning on and opened the small clutch, pulling out a half-dozen condoms. He slowly walked over and handed them to her. She purred like a cheetah upon seeing his tent beneath the faded jeans and tap, tap, tapped fingers on it while Pauly and Matt suited up. Giggling, Lauren turned attention to the latex clad dicks now bobbing in the air, gathering her long hair in hand, and tying it atop of her head.

“Wait,” Sanders snapped, looking at Corey. “Tell her to do it. Tell her to suck me off.”

From the chair, Corey scowled at the younger man. Lauren glanced back over her shoulder with an expectant expression.

“Well? Tell your slut wife to suck me off.”

Knees knocking now, the seriously conflicted husband’s gaze flitted from each teenager to the men getting quite the handjobs from his wife. They were all looking at him like…like they knew what a cuck he was. And they did. Wiping the crust from the corners of his mouth, Corey said the only thing his kink would allow.

“Do it. Suck his dick. Suck him off.”

“Hmmm…” Lauren hummed as she licked the rubber’s reservoir, then the shaft, gagging a little while getting used to the texture and odor of the latex. Eventually, she opened her mouth and lowered it over Matt’s cock. The rest watched with amazement as the whole of it disappeared down her throat where she remained for at least ten seconds before coming up for air.

“Fuckin’ A,” Matt gasped, feeling the warmth of her throat engulf him.

Quickly adjusting her position between the two men, Lauren became an equal opportunity whore, dividing her hands and mouth equally between the two men, slowly coaxing the prize that was sure to come. Corey could only sit and watch the beads of sweat form on his wife’s tanned back, the rivulets running down its spine, disappearing beneath the thick waistband of her panties. She sucked them with abandon and finesse, seemingly making up for years of lost time.

“Goddamn Pauly,” Matt bellowed, head sunk into the couch as he finally enjoyed the blowjob he’d dreamt about for so long. “You didn’t lie.”

Anderson looked a little pale himself, watching the girl he once loved go down on his pal. But like her husband across the room, he was hypnotized by the depravity of it all. Indeed, he had to look away a couple times to keep from cumming. When it became apparent that Matt was going to be the first casualty of her ministrations, Lauren turned her full attention to him. For the next few electrically charged minutes, the room was quiet except for Sanders incessant moaning and the smacking of wet lips on his cock. Without warning, Matt growled loudly, his hands pushing Lauren’s head further down on his shaft, damn near choking her.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh fuuccckkkkkk.”

Bracing, she steadied herself, trying to time the pulsing. Then came the contraction, and the penis stiffened and expanded to her cheeks, the rubber of the condom tickling the roof of her mouth. Suddenly she felt the warm river of cum flow into the reservoir, inflating it to her tonsils and clearing her sinuses. For Lauren, it was just another blowjob. For Matt, it was a years long dream come true.

“Nunnng UHHHHH, OH GODDAMN LAUREN, HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Sanders laid his head to one side towards his buddy, his eyes silently acknowledging his gratefulness for the moment. The two frat boys traded amazed glances, both mouthing ‘wow’. It was their first time ever experiencing something like this.

A brief look of disbelief crossed Pauly’s face as Lauren pulled the condom from Sander’s deflating rod and tossed it to the floor with a wet splat. Grabbing the hair on top of her head, he stood her up.

“My God, you really are a slut!

Seeing his wife manhandled, Corey leapt to his feet, only to have the behemoths flanking him grasp his shoulders and ease him back into the chair. “Relax,” one of them said. "Just relax."

Lauren shook off Pauly's grip and backed away to a small, rickety twin-sized bed under the window. It’s like it hadn’t moved in years. Glancing knowingly at her husband, she asked him if he had anything to say. Corey shook his head, determined to take whatever she could dish out.

Hearing no protests - which she would have heeded - Lauren laid on the mattress and pulled the crotch of her panties to one side to reveal a moist, freshly waxed labia, lips swollen with anticipation.

“Fuck me, Pauly,” she cooed. Then, to her husband. “Go on, take your dick out. You know you want to.”

All four men craned their necks to see the slick pussy peeking out from the shiny black curtain of the satin briefs, including Corey, who himself hadn’t seen it in weeks. With queasy dread, he unzipped his trousers.

“Pull it out, babe. Show ‘em what you got.”

Lauren half-expected him to use the safe word and was mildly amused when he reached through the fly.

“That’s it. Go on.”

The other men sniggered at the older man’s discomfort. After a few distressing moments, Corey pulled his semi-soft six inches into the light of the room.

“Good, babe. Now I want you to beat off while a real man fucks me. Can you do that?”

Visibly shaking, Corey nodded while Pauly moved slowly, but with purpose, to stand above his old bed, looking down at his former girlfriend, half-naked, the pink of her snatch splayed open for all to see. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the wonderment of their college romance, when they were totally and completely in love. A time when the novelty of raw sex was still fresh, untainted, and intimate.

Unfortunately, when opening them, he no longer saw his long-lost love. Only the slut that belonged to the man behind him, who had, bit by bit, stolen her away. And it filled him with rage.

“Thirty years ago, this was my room,” Pauly shouted with irritation over his shoulder, “and this was MY girl. Thirty years ago, I was laying pipe to her while you humped your hand down the street waiting.”

Corey’s head dropped. She had told him. Everything.

Anderson came closer, grasping Lauren’s knees as he caressed her bent legs. She was still beautiful, although a roadmap of varicose veins marred otherwise perfect calves. Pulling him in, she reached down and positioned his cock at the entrance to her bald slit. Wriggling her ass playfully, Lauren grasped his long, skinny member and guided it in, but just a bit.

“Fuck me, Pauly.”

He trembled with excitement. It had been so long. And yet he felt a pang of sadness. No longer was she the girl he loved, unsullied by the world. No, what lay before him was just another doxy, and worse yet, one that was turned out by her own husband.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you, slut.” He pushed the head of his cock just passed her lips and stopped. “Going to fuck you good. Nothin’ but a Goddamn whore now.”

Holding her thighs, Pauly looked back at Lauren's husband, their gaze meeting as he easily slipped into their mutual lover's sopping hole. Through Pauly's eyes, Corey could almost feel the penetration. The penetration he had been denied. It was as if he could feel his wife's love tunnel closing around Anderson's cock, her muscles milking it with each inch that traversed her slick tunnel.

“NOW who’s the cuck, Miller? Huh? HUH?”

Corey broke out in a sweat as he watched Pauly's ass sink between Lauren’s legs, feeling from afar the pleasure her body gave. It was like they were joined in some carnal telepathy. Gripping his own dick, he grimaced and jacked it hard.

Fap, fap, fap.

“Do you feel the sting like I did, you prick? When you fucked my girl? Fuck you! You cucked me, now I cuck YOU!”

His hips rose, then slammed down, repeatedly ramming his full length into her. Lauren cried out at the brutal assault.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK MEEEEEEEEE!"

Encouraged, Anderson picked up the pace.

"I NEVER should have left your big fat cock! He can't fuck me like you, Boo!"

The daggers kept coming, raping Corey’s heart.

"So big, so big. He never makes me cum. Please make me cum, Pauly!"

Being fucked like the slut she had become, the small rickety bed creaked with protest as he unmercifully drove his cock into her willing cunt. In a fit of unbridled passion, Lauren wrapped her legs and arms around his body and pulled him in closer, their sweaty chests sliding, rubbing, nipples touching.

“Fuck me, fuck me, oh please fuck me.”

The thrusts were coming quicker now, hard and fast.

“Un…un…un!”

Creak, creak, creak.

The intensity of the sex threatened to collapse the small, framed bed any second.

“Don't stop, don't stop! Oh yes, oh yes, do me, do me!” Lauren’s screams were so deafening that Franco made sure the door was locked.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

With bodies smacking together, their writhing and moaning filled the room. Hands groped asses and fingers clawed bare skin and hair.

“Laurrrrrrrr-nnnnn!”

“Paul-eeeeeeeeeeee!”

Finding their rhythm for the home stretch, they brayed and howled, thumping the walls with knees and elbows, nearly falling off the bed. The other men, no longer able to contain themselves, joined the slut's husband in jerking off, five fingers hammering their own stiff cocks. Cognizant of the edge he was approaching, Anderson pulled out, not yet wanting to cum. Squatting on his knees, he yanked on the panties Lauren had been so reluctant to remove and flung them against the wall. Corey strained to hear as Pauly spread her legs apart and began chuckling.

"Well, aren’t you the Mona Lisa!"

What?

Crying out in ecstasy as the molten cock slid back into her, Lauren pulled Pauly back on top, thrusting her hips to meet his.

“Give it to MEEEEEEEE! FUCK MY DIRTY CUNT!”

As Corey watched, Anderson's cock began to churn whitish froth from his wife's pussy. Suddenly, something was wrong. Veins along the thick penis, previously opaque beneath the sheath of latex, were now visible, blue and pulsating. Unexpectedly, the condom's material began flapping against Lauren's tanned thigh before clinging to Pauly's nutsack, outlining the ridges of his wet balls, the tight ring from the rubber still firmly attached to the shaft's base.

In the frenzy, the condom had broken, and there was nothing that could be done. Not the way these animals were fucking.

"Cum for me! Cum for me you nasty bitch!"

"Jesus, your cock is just like I remember. Don't stop. PLEASE DON'T STOP!"

The couple continued to grunt and moan, the tempo increasing.

"Oh, oh, oh! Yes, yes, yes...FUCK...ME...HARDER!”

"SHIT LAUREN!" Pauly shouted.

Corey saw Anderson's pelvis rise and fall as he repeatedly slammed his cock into her unprotected pussy, knowing it wouldn't be long.

"OH MY GOD I'M GONNA CUM!" Lauren's shrill voice filled the room, arms clawing at Pauly's back.

"ME TOO!" he cried out, almost childlike, just happy to be in her arms again. "FUCK...YOU...MILLER...YOU GODDAMN CUCK!"

One more huge thrust, then the writhing subsided, and low guttural moans rose from the depths of both lovers. Lauren came with a stuttered scream as Pauly looked back and caught Corey’s eye. With seething malice, he sneered at the older, fat man while unloading his unimpeded semen into Lauren’s pussy. It was truly a blast from the past.

And it felt good.

"Mmmmm, ohhhhhhh, yesssssss, yesssssss," Lauren hissed as Anderson continued to corkscrew his cock into her pussy, pumping ropes of hot jizz deep into her womb. "Fill me up, fill me up."

For several moments, the room became still as everyone became aware of others presence again. Corey had nearly cum. Ted actually had blown and was busy rubbing into the carpet with a shoe his ejaculate, much to Franco’s disgust. Suddenly, Corey wanted to be anywhere else. His sense of fight or flight must’ve been obvious to Pauly who was just pulling out of Lauren’s cum-soaked gash.

"Hold up. The party’s just started. Get your ass over here."

Corey glanced at his wife, who had propped herself up on one elbow and was guzzling water from a plastic bottle. Her body was a sheen of sweat, highlighting the tight ripples in her skin from her abs to her chest.

"Now drop trau, get over here and fuck this whore."

Slowly, with almost debilitating shame, Corey removed his shoes and shed his trousers, all the while looking at his bride, who had now spread her legs again, hands covering her soiled pussy. He could not remember a time when he felt more humiliated and yet more turned on.

"Go on!" Franco pushed the gray-haired man towards the bed, laughing loud. "Get yer sloppy seconds!”

As her husband maneuvered between her legs and looked down, Lauren blew long, sweaty bangs from her eyes with a puff. Smiling, she continued to conceal the portion of her privates with her hands placed in a V. Corey could see Pauly’s white spunk oozing out between her fingers.

“You okay?” she whispered as he shuffled forward and poised his cock to enter her. Her eyes told him that all he had to do is say the word and they’d flee.

But he didn’t.

Reassured, Lauren slowly pulled her hands away from her crotch. When she did, Corey's eyes began to water and he sobbed, nearly vomiting. The reason for her recent modesty was now clear. There, just above her shaved pubes and clitoris hood, was the image of a small red fox, a fluffy tail wrapped around most of its body like a cloak.

“My God, Lauren, what have you done?”

“Cute, huh? But that’s not all!”

Mouth agape, Corey watched her roll to her knees and face away. Falling to all fours, she lifted her ass and pressed it against his throbbing dick, drops of Pauly’s load clinging to its head, then dripping on the mattress below.

“They had a two-for-one sale.”

This time Corey cried out before biting his knuckles. Just above her ass crack was another inking. Two small but elegantly tattooed letters in black gothic script with wings on either side.

~~ E Z ~~

“Of course, it helped that I blew the artist too.”

The other men came round to admire the artwork. Pauly shook his head and clasped a hand on the older man’s shoulder, finally conceding defeat. “She’s all yours, pal. You deserve each other.”

Corey stared scornfully at the lettering, his penis quivering against her pussy. They looked quite permanent and had been strategically placed in an area that could be hidden or not, depending on the clothing, and of course, her mood. This was not an insignificant step in the journey, and he realized at that moment she had truly toppled over the cliff, taking him with her, where he’d always follow. It was obvious what she wanted to be, and he was happy to oblige.

“Do you like it, babe?”

Corey tucked his tie inside his dress shirt, then pulled the tails up so he could grab his cock. “Fuck you, cunt.”

With a great heave, he shoved every bit of his six inches into her leaking hole hard, balls slapping up against her skin.

“And fuck your rules.”

Lauren cried out in pain when her exasperated husband pulled her long hair, snapping her head back, face to the ceiling. Letting him use her, she fixed her gaze on the wall as he jackhammered his now steeled dick in and out of her pussy just as fast and hard as his sixty-one years would allow. Like the Detrevrep CEO a few weeks ago, Pauly’s semen provided a gooey, steaming, slick-as-snot coating to her canal walls, allowing ultra-smooth ingress and egress for Corey’s meat to assault her reddening slit.

“Is that all you got? Is it even fucking in?” Lauren chortled between winces of distress.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Corey barked, slapping her ass several times. “Do you feel that?”

“Owwwwwwww!”

Pulling her further into him, she readjusted her knee stance to give him a better angle. Corey grabbed her hips and danced inside his whore wife, not just fucking, but pummeling. They could both feel Anderson’s cum squirting out and onto their inner thighs with every thrust.

"OH MY GOD, RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE!"

“Ahh…shit, Lauren!”

“Do you feel his love in me? Do you feel it? It’s HIS spunk in my hot cunt, baby. Go on, add to it! MIX YOUR LOVE WITH HIS!”

Corey’s orgasm came suddenly, uncontrollably, as fireworks exploded in his head, and again when a week’s worth of cum raced through his underused dick, flooding her pussy, conjugating the seed of her lovers past and present. Collapsing backwards off the bed, he nearly fainted into the arms of the two startled frat boys, who dragged him back to the chair, exhausted and limp.

“Have a seat, Pops,” Franco patted his gray hair gleefully. “We’ll take it from here.”

In Corey’s last minute of consciousness, he heard Lauren desperately ask if he was okay and their smartass reassurances. Vision fading fast, he saw the ghostly figures of Matt and the teenagers climbing onto the bed from every side, the frame bending under the weight. As a veil of darkness descended over the embattled husband like a ton of emotional bricks, a final blurry image of his wife revealed her being pawed at like some common Thai whore, and every hole being filled with eager cocks.

His night was over, but hers had clearly just begun.

[Guhunkadorn]

Possibly the hottest chapter I've ever had the pleasure to read and I can see it happening. College reunions can get really wild, really fast, especially if you decide to turn the safety switch off.

Thanks for adding some cheer to my X-mas season!

[mooshscuck]

@simpleEnigma: I'm so happy that you wrote another chapter! Planning to read it today! I have a question for you - are all the chapters submitted on Lit. as well? or might I find chapters here which are not on lit?

[SimpleEnigma]

mooshscuck, all chapters are posted on Lit as well. In fact, this latest one is scheduled to drop there tonight. Posting here is instantaneous; there it can take several days to get approved.

Thanks for reading!

[Johng1953]

I'm sorry I was so negative last time I commented. I felt Lauren was getting out of control and cutting Corey out. Thanks for the update that proves me wrong and I'm glad I stayed with it.

[mundyman]

Another stellar chapter!!!!
Thank you for taking the time and effort to write these chapters.
Lauren, would your husband aggressively reclaim you when you pushed his buttons?

[SimpleEnigma]

@John1953

Please do not apologize for wearing your emotions on your sleeve and saying what you feel. Yours was the honest kind of comment that drive discussion boards like this. Believe me, a big part of this LS has to do with the overwhelming emotions we encounter. Some would say it is even more key than the sex itself. It actually flatters us that the tale moved you enough to have elicited those kind of reactions. A powerful testimony, so thank you.

Although I would like to say it's all rainbows and puppy-dog tails for Lauren and Corey in their quest for the right balance of the LS, that would be doing a disservice to real life. Remember, their lives are an amalgamation of many couples we know, so there will be more de-evolution and spiraling out of control before any stabilization occurs. You would not believe the wide range of different experiences we've all had. So just be forewarned. However, if you would like some foreshadowing as to how WE came out on the other end, please allow me to give you a hint: as I write this, MY Lauren is smiling happily at me from across the kitchen island as she wraps Christmas gifts for the thirty-fifth time in our relationship. That's a lot of years. And yes, a couple of the gifts are for her current boyfriends.

Thanks for reading, and as always, please stay tolerant!

[Polpolp]

Every chapter the love fade away, she doesnt Care anymore for her husband.and get deep and deeper in the worst.

The sex scene are exciting but the Magic is off.

Where is the Corey of firsts chapters who where confident, in charge ? Hé is just a shadow of himself, a Real wimp.

What the E Z tattoo means ?

[SimpleEnigma]

@Polpolp

Lauren here. Thanks for your feedback, it is greatly appreciated. If we've given the impression that Lauren Miller doesn't care about Corey any longer, then I'll chalk that up to our amatuerish writing skills. Just because their sexual exploration has taken them to what some in the mainstream may consider 'dark' areas, does not mean their relationship is doomed. In fact, in our case as well as other couples we know, it is the exact opposite. I for one applaud and love my husband for allowing me to unlock my sexuality. I, in turn, enable his fetish, and we continue to thrive as a couple.

The sex scene are exciting but the Magic is off.

Sorry it comes across that way to you. In many cases, couples that enter the LS have said the magic was gone way BEFORE beginning their explorations, and came roaring back after diving in. Indeed, many marriages have been saved by playing. Admittedly, some have also dissolved because of the LS as well, but in our experience, those probably would have anyway.

Where is the Corey of firsts chapters who where confident, in charge ? Hé is just a shadow of himself, a Real wimp.

The Corey in the first chapters has evolved based on the couple acting upon his fetish. Please remember that people change over time. Are you the same person you were ten years ago? Five years? Probably not.

The term 'wimp', when applied to men as cuckolds or stags is simply a trope perpetuated by porn and those who know nothing of the lifestyle. Corey is a composite of several men in our lives and I can assure you that none are 'wimps'. Simple is an engineer, another is a big and burly firefighter, and others include an ex-marine and an airman who fought in Desert Storm, and yet another an ex-rock star. You'd never suspect they are submissive to their wives in the bedroom. Why? Because typically our sex lives are not broadcast outside of the bedroom. Even monogamous couples typically keep their sexual antics private. That's not to say there isn't a certain percentage of cuckold/hotwife couples that take things to the extreme and live the life in the open, but you'll find that is a smaller number of couples. The thing I'd like you to take away from this is that a sexually submissive husband does not necessarily equal a wimp. It is exactly this type of perception that continues to keep this lifestyle underground. In fact, the next chapter of this story touches on the stigma that comes with the fetish and some of the things Simple and his fellow cuckold buddies have had to endure over the years.

The 'E Z' tattoo in the story is fictional, made up to mimic a similar real tattoo that one of my girlfriends got during what Simple calls our 'slut years'. Its located basically the same place, but we didn't want to use the real word she had inked to help protect her identity. 'E Z' is simply an acronym for 'easy', an indicator of a woman's attitude towards sex, at least here in the States. Since it's fairly easy to see if she wants it to be, the real tat elicited powerful emotional angst in her husband when he first saw it, knowing it was a permanent symbol of her slutty behavior. We may have been royal slut cunts back then, but we were also good cuckoldresses.

Thanks again for reading.

[mooshscuck]

Wow, the best story ever!
so realistic, so hot, and the best part - this is the ultimate marriage!

Waiting anxiously for the next chapter...

[thepen]

Really enjoying this. Congratulations to you both on your writing, which is wonderful, and (if it's anything like the story), your relationship, which is... hot (to diminish it with an understated cliche)!

[Barthvader]

Thanks for sharing your journey.
I read it with interest and I am a little jealous


Barth.

[armyguyot1]

Welcome to the forum Barthvader.

[SimpleEnigma]

Moonshscuck, Pen, Barth, thanks for the feedback. Yes, our relationship is very special. We’ve seen many mainstream marriages come and go over our years together, and yet ours is going strong. Go figure.

Been receiving a lot a PMs wondering if this tale will continue. The short answer is ‘yes’, when time allows. We’ve both been traveling a lot since the holidays, together and separately, and it is difficult - for us anyway - to find time to write anything down. We typically write together, but I know Lauren’s been working on another episode that weaves in an additional experience of a couple (some dear friends) that have already been repped in the Lauren and Corey saga. May be able to publish that soon.

Let me add, that the best thing about traveling separately is her making more memories for us. Those things we may put to pen one day, but first things first.

Stay tolerant, friends.

[SimpleEnigma]

============
CHAPTER 20
============

February 4th. Three weeks to go.

Corey Miller's eyes fluttered open to the sound of a mechanical fan whirring noisily somewhere nearby. The gelid space appeared empty and dark, void of any context. As he drifted between sleep and consciousness, it soon became apparent there was a mattress beneath him, and a thin sheet covering his body. Nude except for black dress socks, in those moments that resembled lucidity, he reckoned this was the hotel room he and Lauren had booked for her reunion. That epiphany seemed even more surreal when a shadowy figure appeared at the end of the bed.

What the fuck?

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Relieved to hear Lauren's soothing voice, her angelic glow set his mind at ease as she stepped from the darkness. Still dressed in the ball gown and faux fur stole from the evening, kind eyes looked upon him tenderly this time, not as the cuckoldress she was just hours ago. "You okay?"

Corey read the barely visible alarm clock on the nightstand. Three fifty-five a.m.

"You just got here?"

"Yeah."

The evening's earlier events began to come back at him in bits and pieces, except how he'd gotten to the hotel by himself.

"Pauly paid a couple of the boys to make sure you got in the room."

"Like this?" he freaked, appalled at the idea.

Lauren laughed, tossing the stole around her shoulders onto a small chair.

"No silly, I did that. You were out like a light."

"If I recall, it was only like midnight when I..."

"Passed out. Well, I had unfinished business."

Corey's head was beginning to clear a bit, but not completely. "Unfinished business? Jesus, Lauren how many?"

His wife shrugged, unzipping the party dress and letting it fall to the floor. This time, there were no panties beneath. "Does it matter?"

"Where are your..."

"The fraternity brothers kept them as a souvenir. Are you done asking questions? Would you like to hear what happened after you fainted?"

Corey managed a weak croak. "I...I don't know."

"Bullshit."

Giggling, Lauren whisked away the sheet and took in his nakedness. He looked downright comical with his shriveled penis trying to bounce to attention and toes wiggling inside black socks, lint, and all. She playfully flicked his struggling dick with a middle finger.

"Keep trying, Twisty."

"Please, just tell me!"

"Oh, now you're begging to hear how your wife got her brains fucked out? How nice. Can't even get hard without thinking about me screwing someone else, can you? Well, you see, Pauly...you remember Pauly, right?" she asked sarcastically. "He's the one that flooded me with a bucket load of cum before you left. Oh, but you knew that. Anyway, the asshole he is, he got up and left me with Matt and those kids. Mmmm, those boys could fuck. Matt, not so much. Good thing their friends were bored.

"You pulled train for the entire house? You've gone absolutely slut mad."

"Not the entire fraternity, goofball, just the ones that wanted to get laid."

That was a joke, of course, but Corey wasn't laughing.

"Why so surprised? There wasn't one limp dick in that room while I was getting ganged, including you, cuck. In fact, my love, seems to me you lasted longer than usual. Maybe I should look up old boyfriends more often."

Corey looked to where her gaze had gone. The turtle was beginning to come out of its shell again, a clear admission to complicity, and undeniable testimony to his arousal at her antics.

"Why'd you do it?"

Nude now, Lauren climbed onto the mattress, kneeling by his midsection. "It was one of your fantasies, remember? Me and Pauly...and others."

It was indeed. Literally, a dream. "You brought us all the way here to act out a fantasy? You said you didn't do more than one guy at a time back then."

A dainty hand wrapped around his pink, growing worm. "Are you complaining?"

Corey shook his head rapidly. All the dirty talk was going directly to his cock.

"I didn't think so. Tell me...what did you like most? Watching me suck Pauly and Matt off? Fucking my ex? Or swishing your tiny dick around my pussy after he came in me? Slick and gooey, wasn't it?"

A barely perceptible nod was followed by a low moan as his wife's fingers danced on his burgeoning erection.

"I'm glad you felt something. I barely knew this thing was in me."

"Really? Are we really going there?"

Leaning over, Lauren's tongue shot out, swirling around the small head a couple times, licking away tiny amounts of precum that had begun oozing out. "Too much?"

"N...n...no. I just...oh God."

This time, he reached out and grasped the back of her head, pushing it down onto the cock she thought so little of these days.

Wrong move. To his surprise, Lauren immediately straightened and slapped his hand away.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You've been a naughty boy. You didn't follow the rules."

"Rules? What rules?"

"You fucked me. I told you no pussy!"

"What? My ass. C'mon, you wanted it."

"No fair. I wanted cock...any cock. Even this little prick." Corey's entire six inches recoiled as she flicked it again. The air couldn't have been thicker as that dagger sunk in, punctuated by the sound of the maligned heater fan in the background. He groaned again in pleasure, savoring the implied humiliation. Loose skin hips arched to help his underused cock seek her ever-elusive fingers.

"Admit it, you wanted to see me get fucked by my old beau as much as I wanted him to. You act like you don't, but then you always do. Always. I came on his dick, did you know that? Which is more than you can do for me now. You could have stopped it...all of it...with one little word. But you didn't, did you, cuck?"

"I...I..."

"DID YOU?"

"No..."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see..."

"See what?"

"See you...get...get fucked."

"By who?"

"By PAULY...I WANTED HIM TO!," Corey sobbed, "God help me, I wanted him to."

Swelled now, Lauren looked at her husband's dick with the same fondness as a World War II bomber that had once served its country well but could no longer get the job done. Average at best, it now lacked the qualities of her other lovers. Less virile, less aggressive, less...alluring. Name it. Instead of vitality, it looked tired, worn out; almost resigned to take its place amongst the relics. Of course, that was not Corey's fault. They'd known their age difference would catch up to them sooner or later. For twenty-five of their twenty-nine years together, they had great sex. Had she not gone along with his kink seven months ago, Lauren would have been content with finishing out life working with what she had signed up for. Now that her husband, of all people, had catapulted her into their own mini-sexual revolution, how would either of them go back to monogamy? She liked the sex way too much. And he? Corey seemed to enjoy, more than anything, wallowing in the pleasurable agony that is a cuckold. And paramount right now was giving him the aftercare he needed.

Facing her pudgy husband, Lauren straddled his rotund middle and allowed her bald slit to slide up and down the underbelly of the eager cock until it fell into the wet groove of her labia, like a hotdog fitting into its bun. Careful not to allow a breach of her treasure, she continued the motion relentlessly, building his need to cum.

"Please," Corey cried, "I need to cum."

"Shhhh," Lauren whispered as she leaned over, letting the tips of her long black mane caress his man boobs and nipples.

"Did you mean what you said?" he coughed, still whimpering in blissful travail. "That you never should have left him?"

Another giggle. God, why does he do this to himself? "Hmmm, at least he can last longer than five minutes, unlike some people..."

The mist in Corey's eyes began to form tears. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

"Shut the fuck up. I came back, didn't I? Guy's a prick," Lauren confessed, then leaned over and whispered, "but he sure can get me off."

Riding those thick hips of his without penetration was not easy, seeing as her juices had begun flowing again, mixing with the remnants of Pauly and Corey's earlier dumps. The volume of cum would have been much greater had she not made the others wear condoms. Greased now with seeping seminal fluids, the viscosity made it difficult to keep her husband's cock out. Indeed, the mushroomed head actually did slip in a couple times before she could take corrective action.

"NO!" Lauren barked, quickly pivoting off his pelvis and onto his chest. This placed her ass and sopping pussy squarely in his face, giving him a bird's eye view of the natural lubricants draining from her bloated gash. The aroma of sex mixed with the musty smell of her crinkled, starfished anus.

"Please, let me cum!" Corey groaned. "PLEASE!"

"Maybe."

With gentle, calculated finesse, the lovely cock-tease caressed him in all the right erogenous zones, lightly dragging the tips of her nails across his flabby and creased skin as they traveled between each. He trembled beneath her touch as she rolled a nipple here and massaged a thigh there. All the while, his penis quivered in the air untouched, begging for the attention being deliberately denied. It bobbed in the air freely, a steady stream of precum percolating from the meatus.

"Oh, sweet Jesus!"

Careful not to touch the throbbing member, Lauren continued to massage the crinkled perineum, the odor of his sweaty scrotum and asshole wafting up to meet her nostrils. Corey reached down a couple times and tried to jerk off, only to have his hand swatted away.

"NOT YET!"

"Please, Lauren, please, I need to, oh I need to..."

Now, any man who has had the agonizing pleasure of enduring an impending touchless knows how difficult it is to get over that last hurdle, the point where the beautiful torture ends, and blissful release flows. Corey was at that point now and struggling mightily.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT," he bleated over and over and over, head bouncing off the pillow. "For the love of God, end it. JUST END IT! Or let ME!" He would've offed himself, but the knees straddling his sides prevented any hand from reaching down and ending the torment.

Lauren recognized his predicament and tried to help pull him over, realizing that it was no longer her pussy that made him cum, but the hooks of the fetish as well.

"Can you smell them, babe? Can you smell the men I fucked tonight?"

Corey inhaled deeply. The pungent odor of stale semen just inches from his nose grew stronger with every river of air that emitted from her well-used hole.

"Spread my cunt, baby...tell me what you see."

Both thumbs parted her swollen, reddened lips, giving evidence of the pounding they'd taken that evening. Peering into the meaty void, canal juices combined with sticky, opaque, and stringy weblike matter that obfuscated the typically bright pink meat that normally provided such a tasty treat.

"Jesus, is that..?"

"You tell me. That's where four other men had their cocks tonight, Twisty. Can you imagine my tight pussy wrapped around their sizzling irons, pumping in and out..."

"God, Lauren, you fucking slut."

"In and out..."

"Cheap whore!"

"In and out..."

Working up a dollop of spit, Lauren, let it drizzle over his dick like cinnamon icing, stringy and sticky. It quaked violently as the saliva struck the tip of the glans, mixed with the copious precum, then dripped down various ridges of its sides. Next, she let strands of her shiny black hair drape around the quaking appendage, nudging, teasing.

"HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT! PLEASE, babe, PLEASE let me cum!"

In an effort to make this a special orgasm for him, she had a most wicked idea. Untried and dangerously risky.

"Eat my ass."

Corey's eyes widened. "What?"

"Did I stutter? Eat my ass, then you cum."

Eying her puckered anus, the array of variegated wrinkles leading into the dark abyss a mere lick away seemed forbidden, taboo even. He'd fucked her holy grotto recently but certainly never tasted it. Yet, in that heightened state of arousal, it seemed like a reasonable, even desirable request. With some trepidation, his face moved closer, touching the tip of his tongue to her bunghole. The moisture from contact seemed to enhance the musty aroma, making it earthier, fuller. Pressing a bit deeper, Lauren moaned loudly, continuing the massage between his legs in earnest. Encouraged by her enthusiasm, his extended tongue when further into the forbidding chasm, rewarded with a not-unpleasant flavor of soap and lotion. Deeper he went, nose buried in her ass cheeks, wiggling the tip so it would penetrate to its fullest. Unsurprisingly, considering what it expelled daily, the sides were rough and uneven, not smooth and delicate like a pussy. Still, it was pleasurable and nowhere near being the revolting experience he'd always imagined.

Lauren had to double-down on the massage, her concentration faltering at the new and quite felicitous sensation of her husband's tongue exploring her asshole. It tickled, but in a way that begged for more. After letting him probe a bit, she arched her back to give him a new angle, to which he began to get down to business with gentle licks and the application of more pressure. Lauren appreciated the effort, enough so it was time to bring her whining husband home.

"That's it, lick my asshole, Twisty.

"Did you see the way Pauly fucked me? Oooooooh, it was soooo good. Just like I remembered. His dick isn't much bigger, but oh the things it can do!"

Lauren could feel Corey's cock straining, poking in the air all alone, desperate for touch but having none.

"Matt wasn't bad either. He finally got what he jerked off to all these years. Kinda of like you, but he waited longer."

"Lauren," Corey pulled his tongue away from her anus. "PLEASE, I NEED TO CUM!"

"Was it hot seeing those kids ogle me? I like college boys. They're so cocky but know nothing."

"How...how many?"

Giggles. "Let's see, I started the night with six rubbers, and I got none now."

"YOU FUCKED EIGHT GUYS TONIGHT?"

More giggles "Yeah, I guess. They just kept coming through the door. Literally."

Lauren could tell his mind was reeling but wasn't there yet.

"Are you enjoying the ride so far, baby? You ready to take it to the next level?"

"Nthxxt lehhvil?" Corey asked, eyes widening as his lips sucked at her brown hole.

"I thought so," she smirked, grinding her ass into his face. "Maybe we should invite more of your friends over."

The second Lauren felt Corey's hands clamp down on the meaty part of her ass cheeks, she knew he was close. A stuttered 'ug, ug, ug, ug' choking noise came from behind as she continued to massage his taint, pressing in on the thin skin. Then, without warning, with only a few wisps of her long, silky hair encircling his tortured member, it began quivering, then shaking, rapidly oscillating faster until the first spurt of cum bubbled out.

It wasn't the type of explosive orgasm to write Penthouse about, but rather a protracted, slow burn. Still, it was enough for an intense and most enjoyable climax, made that much more pleasurable knowing it had been orchestrated for him by someone who cared very deeply. It ended with her jumping into his arms where they cuddled and whispered.

"Have you enjoyed your return to Ames?" Lauren asked airily, head on her husband's shoulder, plucking his gray chest hairs.

"It...it certainly has been different," Corey scoffed, still trying to catch his breath. Snuggling closer, he turned his face to hers full of curiosity. "What exactly is the next level?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll know it when I see it. Still game?"

"Haven't said the safe word yet, have I?"

Lauren rubbed her nose against his, then tapped it with a finger. "Then watch out, cucky, you may just want to have your hand on that lever."

That night Corey had a fitful sleep, sporadic wet dreams waking him from time to time in the pre-dawn hours. What had she meant by keeping his hand n the level? What was she planning next? He tried jacking off a couple times, but his spent cock gave no quarter. Lauren, on the other hand, slept peacefully, well fucked, knowing she'd fulfilled one of her husband's top fantasies.

All in all, it had been a good day.

+++++

February 5th. Seventeen days to go.

Returning to Des Moines after a late check-out, the couple poured themselves into purging and packing. While planning to let the movers pack and store most of their stuff, there were some items one could simply not entrust to others. Neither mentioned the reunion, although Corey did express his disappointment in the tattoos. Lauren defended the ink, saying they 'felt right'. For her, it was the next level, nothing more.

“E Z?”

“Does that bother you?”

“It’s not me you have to worry about it bothering.”

“You can’t see them unless I want them seen. Your daughter has one, you know. Similar place, just above her ass.”

Corey looked incredulous. “WHAT? EASY?”

“No, but the sentiment is the same. I know you don't want to hear this, but she's quite the, um...party girl...in her own right. She has a cute little queen of spades, right here.”

Lauren pointed to the top of her buttocks.

It dawned on him he’d never seen pictures of any of Caroline’s boyfriends since she moved to Colorado.

“Bernard is black?”

“Was. I mean, he still is, they just aren’t dating anymore.”

A ‘wow, learn something every day’ splashed across Corey’s face. It’s not that he cared. As long as the guy wasn't a terrorist. “Whatever. Whatever makes her happy.”

“Well, there’s not much to hate,” Lauren chortled, a sly smile breaching her face.

The attempt at humor wasn’t subtle.

"You've never told me..."

“You never asked,” she snickered, heaving another dried-up paint can into a trash bag. Licking her lips, the pretty office executive vividly recalled the handsome black men Caroline had been talking to on the beach during her visit. "Just sayin'."

Corey shook his head, not knowing what to believe anymore.

And that made the enigma his wife was becoming that much sweeter.

+++++

February 6th. Sixteen days to go.

On Tuesday evening, after two and a half days of sweat and blood, they decided to take a break and go out for dinner at one of their favorite hometown restaurants. Corey beamed across the table at Lauren, who looked especially radiant in a simple round-neck mauve knee-length dress, shiny black hair draped over soft shoulders, long enough to cover those small breasts that were very much discernible beneath the lace material. To up his game, he'd worn new blue jeans, semi-new ostrich boots, and a blue and white checked button-down collared shirt. This even garnered him a sexy whistle as he helped her shrug on a green patent-leather crop jacket.

The food was just as they'd remembered it, and to evoke even more memories, decided to check out another favorite, a club they'd frequented for years, Little Chicago Moves. Lauren smiled as they stood in a brief line to pay a twenty-dollar cover, inside in easily five minutes. How different from Miami, she mused, then admonished herself for the comparison. Of course, the Magic City was like no other place she'd ever been. Vibrant, edgy, sensual. Nothing would ever compare again.

Finding no tables, they squeezed into a spot on the side of the main bar and initially ordered a beer and seltzer. Reckoning he would soon get roped into dancing, Corey quickly changed that to a double bourbon, and Lauren to a martini. Twenty minutes later, there was only ice and an uneaten olive in the bottom of their abandoned glasses as the laughing couple twisted together on the dance floor with zest and zeal. For the next thirty minutes, Corey Miller kept up with his wife, something he had not done in a very long time. Toe to toe, cheek to cheek, it didn't matter if it was a lively disco song, Motown standard, or rockabilly. The appreciative smile on Lauren's face showed she was thoroughly impressed and grateful, allowing him to lead, keeping her body tight to his...and pouring on plenty of loving sugar. Corey felt like a new man with new energy, all the typical inhibitions fading away. And why shouldn't he? He was with a hot babe who bore his name. Both welcomed the unspoken affection that enveloped them, a hark back to when things were simpler and less edgy. For those few glorious hours, she was all his, the notion of their secret lifestyle far from his mind.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long before the disadvantages of being out and about with a smoke show began to manifest themselves. One time, when he went to piss out the whiskey, he returned only to find her surrounded by a couple of 'gentlemen' who were trying to get to know her better. Even after she introduced him as her husband, they tried to muscle him out, placing their big bodies between him and Lauren. Before, Corey would have made a scene, attracting so much attention the guys would have simply moved on or he'd have been thrown out. This time, things were different. Dramatically different. This time, he was in uncharted waters, not all that sure if Lauren wanted to be rescued. Luckily, she made that decision for them both, shutting down her new suitors with a polite but curt 'sorry, perhaps some other time'. As the long-married couple once again took to the polished wood, this time amidst a slow song, they danced even closer, her head on his chest, arms holding each other tight.

"You want me all to yourself tonight, huh?" Corey asked, beaming.

Lauren said nothing and just hugged him, showering his neck with kisses. At that moment, everything was perfect. And yet, a pit in his stomach kept him grounded.

Perhaps some other time.

Just because she was carving out a night for him, didn't mean she was any less the slut she'd become. A different day, a different bar, the night might have played out differently.

That was the new reality.

This was their new life.

+++++

An hour later, a casual observer on Rural Route 169 would have cracked up at seeing a tan pickup barreling through the dark night, heater cranked, eighties music blaring, with a middle-aged couple inside singing their hearts out to every song.

“Perhaps some other time?” Corey sarcastically repeated Lauren’s spurning of the two handsome men at the bar.

Lauren leaned over the console and kissed him on the cheek. “You never know. Next time might not turn out in your favor.” A hand drifted over his soft crotch. “Or would it?” As expected, something stirred beneath the linen pants. He’s such a perv.

Unsure of how he’d feel about that, Corey fished around in the caddy until finally coming up with what he was looking for. A huge cone-shaped joint and long skinny candlestick lighter.

“Oh wow, look at you, stoner boy,” Lauren grinned from ear to ear, “where’d you get that?”

“Caught the asphalt crew at lunch last week on location. They hooked me up rather than be written up.”

A single flame illuminated the cabin as they continued to rocket down the freeway, classic rock providing the soundtrack as they worked the blunt, each taking increasingly bigger hits. After several minutes, Corey lowered the volume and took her hand, a pensive look in his eye.

“You’ve certainly taken care of yourself. Guys seem to flock to you now.”

"Only now?" she replied with mock indignity.

"You know what I mean."

Lauren pinched the paper between her long fingernails, inhaled deeply, then shrugged.

“I’ve learned a little makeup, sexy clothes, and a slutty attitude helps. Guys are such horndogs.”

“Amy and Chloe?”

“It helps to hang around young people, yes. But if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be June Cleaver. Seven months later…”

“And you're a porn star.”

Not yet, Lauren thought satirically, recalling Chloe’s ‘guy’ who did short films. “See how much fun clubbing together will be, baby?” she teased. “We pick ‘em, I fuck ‘em, you jack off into your sock. Everyone wins.”

“So, nothing changes?”

“We’ve passed that point, don’t you think?”

Up ahead, a blue neon sign in the shape of a curvaceous woman shown through the mist. Corey jumped when Lauren grabbed his arm.

“STOP!”

“What?”

“STOP!”

The truck fishtailed as it abruptly slowed just before the entrance to the parking lot, coming to stop in a cloud of gravel on the shoulder.

“Isn’t this where you and your pervert buddies go?”

The sign blinked brightly through the windshield.

Dank’s Ballet.

“Yeah, so what? It’s just a dive titty bar. The beer is cheap.”

“And the lap dances?”

Corey shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Lauren took another hit off the joint and snuffed it out in the ashtray. “Let’s go see.”
“This isn’t Randy Sandy’s, babe. It’s a little rough around the edges in there.”

“So? I’m thirsty. Buy me a beer and you might get lucky tonight.”

Corey was a bit hesitant as he pulled the truck into the parking lot. He shouldn’t have been, especially after seeing her at the glory hole and knowing that his wife frequented a high-end strip club in Miami with her friends. But that was a thousand miles away from any of their friends and family. This was in their backyard. It was different.

It really was the new reality.

+++++

The inside of Dank's looked exactly how Corey remembered. For many years, 'boys' night out' often found him, Zane, Toby, and Sean spending a few bucks watching Iowa's finest take off their clothes. Not having been for a while, it seemed like a dive compared to the chrome and glitter of Randy Sandy's, one of South Florida's premier gentlemen's clubs. Instead of drop-dead gorgeous dancers, there were a couple tired-looking girls, barely twenty-one, gyrating slowly on a three-foot high V-shaped platform to the beat of some obscure blues tune. Both looked disinterested, and by the lack of dollar bills at their feet, it was no wonder. Sticky floors, wobbly tables, and old wooden chairs were about as glamorous as the 'Ballet' got. Not surprising, seeing that the cover charge was only ten bucks, a nod to the decidedly blue-collar workers that frequented the bar.

A two-room venue, the place was not big at all. A couple of alcoves with curtains off to one side were designated as 'VIP lounges', and there was back-office space beyond those. Around two dozen guys - many with baseball caps advertising farm equipment - and several women sat at sporadically placed tables, speaking way louder than they needed to. The latter were a bit rough looking as if they peaked in beauty and possibilities too early in life, and occasionally glanced at the young dancers wistfully, wishing their own beauty had not faded so fast. A couple of crusty bartenders and scantily clad waitresses kept the booze flowing to the small crowd. Even they looked bored, wanting to be anywhere else. Apparently, Tuesday nights in that fine establishment weren't exactly a tip mecca.

Taking a seat at a two-top near the end of a runway, Corey and Lauren ordered a bourbon and vodka soda, content to watch the show. Unlike the drunk, country-bred patrons who were getting louder by the minute, the couple looked on respectfully as the entertainers went through their listless routines. When that song was over, the two girls carefully stepped off the riser amidst a smattering of applause, presumably headed to whatever dressing room accommodations there were. As they passed by, Corey handed each a twenty, causing them to linger, nodding their appreciation at the well-dressed couple. The next dancer, a voluptuous blonde, tried a bit harder but seemed just as dejected. Lauren looked around the room at the pervasive apathy and shook her head. It must be hard to be motivated when the men you're supposed to be entertaining are more interested in their beer and war stories.

Recognizing the despair in the dancer's eyes, Lauren felt bad. Excusing herself to the restroom, Corey watched as his spicy wife disappeared down a hallway, passing by a banner that advertised Thursdays as 'Amateur night'. Minutes later, she reappeared only to approach a short, squat man wearing an ill-fitting vest. Waving away the cigar smoke he blew in her face, she pointed at the sign.

What are you up to, Lauren? Corey thought as he ordered another round from the waitress.

Looking her up and down as if evaluating, he eventually shrugged and waved a hand at the small doorway the strippers had gone through earlier. Smiling, Lauren sashayed back towards her husband, leaving the bartender and their boss shaking curious heads with doubt.

"What was that about?" Corey asked as fresh drinks arrived.

Tossing back the vodka soda in two gulps, she just grinned. "Watch my purse."

Adjusting her outfit while trying to muster courage, Lauren took a deep breath. The fat guy was Sersi, the owner, who initially questioned whether a woman so conservatively dressed even belonged in a place like his, much less had the mettle to dance. Besides, it was only Tuesday night. Telling him he wouldn't be sorry only made him laugh. How wild could a PTA mom be?

Before Corey could protest, she was at the talent door, passage initially blocked by a large muscular bald man, until he received a nod from Sersi. And then she was gone.

At that point, there was no question as to what she was up to.

Damnit, Lauren, please be careful. You're up for a promotion at work.

+++++

Nearly midnight, the place was getting raucous. The second shift at a nearby smelting plant had just ended and more than a few steelworkers had shuffled in looking to quench their thirst. Many of them looked up from their beer when the bartender/DJ began to speak.

“Alright, I know it’s not amateur night, but one of our lady customers has volunteered to entertain you all anyway. There is no prize money this evening, so make sure you show your appreciation! Please give it up for Des Moines' own Chastity!”

Curious now, most of the crowd turned their attention to the stage when a woman with long jet-black hair in her thirties walked out, hands on her hips. For the second time that week, Corey felt like he was going to faint. There, in front of at least thirty men, his wife posed under hot lights rocking only the black two-piece booty set she had on under her dress.

Chastity?

Beneath shades of blue, green, and red illumination, the lingerie clung to Lauren’s lithe body. The lacy bralette barely covered her tomato-sized breasts, while the booty shorts did nothing to hide the cleanly shaven labia beneath. Corey gulped. Even at forty-eight-going-on-thirty, Lauren rivaled the prettiest younger girls there. Although old enough to be a mother to some, with a roadmap of varicose veins becoming more prominent as she aged, none of that mattered to the crowd when the song ‘River’ began its sultry melody. Rocking her hips back and forth to the slow, erotic beat, the animated amateur shifted weight from one leg to the other, looking like something out of a men’s magazine. Whipping that shiny midnight mane around in the opposite direction of her pelvis got the crowd going as a cacophony of catcalls showered down, along with a few bills.

Trying to recall the moves of erotic dancers befriended at Randy Sandy’s, Lauren strutted about the stage and swiveled around a single silver pole like she was born on it.

“EASY!” several in the throng of testosterone shouted out as her recently acquired winged tattoo became visible above her ass crack.

Mouth agape, Corey’s eyes drank it all in, and his arousal, like others there, began to become visible. It was one thing to watch another woman act so wantonly on stage, but one’s wife? Lord knows he knew how naughty she’d been – even seen her in action - but to have nearly forty drunken rednecks ogling and cheering on the woman you married? Well, that was something…special. Lauren knew it, he knew it, and his twitching cock knew it.

Amongst enthusiastic clapping and whistling, the neophyte wannabe spun off the pole with a smile, her long hair flying. Walking from one end of the stage to the other, she tried boob shakes but her itty bitty titties were too small to pull it off, causing her to falter and laugh along with the crowd. More bills rained down. Taking another few laps, she thought about wrapping her legs around the pole for a twirl like she’d seen other girls do but then decided against the idea. Those types of calisthenics were better left to twenty-something professionals.

"Damn, she fuckin' hot!” someone howled.

Corey had to agree, slowly moseying toward the front of the stage. Moving to the edge of the riser, Lauren continued to swivel her hips seductively, making eye contact with those up front just like she’d seen Chloe do. Hands glided over the contours of her body while making embellished ‘O’ faces, occasionally stopping on her tanned belly for an ass shake here and a pelvis thrust there. Many a man had to inconspicuously adjust themselves as the novice stripper went through an obviously improvised routine. This included her husband, who was becoming intensely aroused at his wife adulterating herself for the pleasure of others. But it wasn’t all for their enjoyment, was it? Not a chance. With every move, Lauren felt that crafty nine-tailed fox awaken, nibbling at her libido. Kumiho was stirring again. And she was getting very, very wet.

As a second, more up-tempo song began to blast from the loudspeakers, the raven-haired amateur picked it up a notch, the weed and alcohol of the night fueling her performance. Hair whipping the boys into a frenzy, Lauren made sure she gave each one on the rail rapt attention, allowing them to touch her knees, but nothing else. A crisp bill was rewarded with a titty mashed briefly against their face, higher denominations got them a close whiff of the treasure just beneath the lacey panties. And the crowd loved it.

"Shit yeah!"

“Fuckin’ A!”

“Take it off, Mom!”

That one got a playful New York salute from the dancer.

“Damn, Sersi, where’d you get this one from?” Corey heard a guy ask the owner, who just bit down on his cigar and shrugged. It was probably the best amateur show Dank’s had had in months. Must be a ringer from another club. He made a note to ask her later.

Lauren continued to dance provocatively to the beat of the music amid appreciative whistling. Slowly gyrating her very fit hips, she lowered one strap of the bralette to her upper arm, then the other. Corey could hardly believe he was about to see his wife undress in front of an entire club. Yet another skill to add to her resume: executive, cougar, cum slut, whore, and now a stripper. With little hesitation, the bra was allowed to flutter to the floor, leaving those delectable tiny mounds on display, hard nipples protruding at least half an inch. The room erupted into cheers, as the praise and the floating cash seemed perpetual.

Seeing her husband at the platform’s edge, bills in hand, Lauren sank to her haunches and pulled him in. Leaning over, her straight hair hung like a drape over the two, concealing their faces as they embraced. Cheek to cheek, she giggled.

“Liking the show?”

“Unbelievable.”

Lauren placed one of his hands over her panty-clad snatch.
“Should I show them my pussy, Twisty? Would you like that? Would you like these strangers to see my wet cunt?”

Corey groaned, knowing the crowd was watching, hoping they couldn’t see his prominent erection.

“That’s up to you, babe.”

He tried to pet the lacy seam that ran directly between her legs, only to be met with a hand slap.

“That’s right, perv, it is up to me!”

Pushing him away with force and spurious disdain, Lauren quickly stood, wagging her finger. Moving seductively, she traversed the stage, hips rocking from one side to the other, arms waving above her head. Gradually, her hands came down, thumbs hooking the front of the panties, pulling them tight, causing a most distinct cameltoe. Sliding the material gently between her lips, imitating masturbation, Lauren milked the move for more applause and a flurry of bills. Just as the song ended, the exhausted mother of two wiggled her ass and placidly pulled the material away from her crotch, clearly displaying her moist, shaved slit and that cute little fox inked just above. With several dramatic lewd pelvic thrusts, amateur night at the Ballet ended.

Cheers and whistles followed Lauren as she retrieved her bra and gathered well-earned tips before jumping off the riser and disappearing through the side door as another girl emerged.

"We'll...that was incredible!" one of the bartenders overmodulated into a microphone, "Please thank Chastity with a big Dank's applause. Next up is Lola!"

Corey stumbled over to the couple's table and ordered two fresh drinks, still reeling from his wife's raunchy exhibition. Just as the waitress returned and was setting down the tray, Lauren appeared, back in her dress and sweating profusely. Tugging him off the stool by his shirt collar, she grabbed his hand and started for the door.

"Forget the booze. Outside...NOW!"

A few male customers, who were also leaving, made crude comments as she pulled Corey into the parking lot towards his truck. Giddy from such an outrageous stunt, they both laughed uncontrollably while he unlocked the passenger door. To his surprise, Lauren didn't get in first, but rather, pushed him up, then clambered onto his lap, closing the door behind them.

"Fuck me," she panted, straddling him reverse cowgirl style.  "I need you to fuck me RIGHT NOW!"

Corey fumbled with his belt and zipper as Lauren hiked the hem of her dress.

"God, you ARE easy these days!" he exclaimed, pushing his slacks down, not daring to bring up her 'no pussy rule'.

"Well, you are my husband," she puffed.

"Would it make any difference if I wasn't here?"

With lust in her eyes, Lauren pulled aside the thin band of her soaked panties, took aim, and tried lowering herself onto his cock. To her dismay, it was deflating, shrinking like a hose lacking water pressure. And she knew exactly why.

"No, baby, I'd be in this lot just the same, looking to get fucked by whoever wanted my married pussy."

The glans at the entrance to her hot little snatch began to twitch.

"Fucking slut."

"Mm-hmm, you know me too well. Get used to it, cucky. I don't need your dick anymore. And after that show I don't think I'd have to look far, do you?"

The aging member began to respond, firmer now, expanding in her warm and wet canal.

A group of hunky customers leaving the bar stumbled by on the way to their cars.

Corey grabbed his wife's hair and forcibly turned her head toward the men.

"Them?"

Lauren hissed, pleased with his impetuousness. "Anyone. Maybe they'd like to come over here and fuck your whore wife."

A soft whimper came from behind her. Back pressed against his chest, she continued to try and get him hard. It was working, albeit slowly.

"You liked those men ogling me, seeing me naked, didn't you?"

"Yessss," he panted. "Such a tramp."

"Such a cuck."

Lauren ground her hips into his, willing that pink worm as deep as it would go. Sadly, it wasn't all that far.

"You can't fuck me without thinking about it, can you, bitch?"

Corey groaned with pleasure, having never been called that before. She knew he was desperately trying to maintain an erection and needed help.

Poor bastard.

Suddenly, something bumped the truck. Startled, the two looked out the passenger window as a drunk regular of Dank's pinballed off the pickup and the car next to it, anxiously pressing a fob while listening for his car. All three were surprised when the guy stopped and locked eyes with the couple through the foggy window.  He recognized the woman on the man's lap as the one who'd just been dancing.

"Sorry," the stranger mumbled abashedly and began to move away. When he did, the door opened.

"Wait."

Turning, he saw the amateur stripper beckoning to him with her hand. Looking around the lot to make sure the gesture was meant for him, he returned with cautious curiosity, moving to the opening between the cab and the door.

Without a word, Lauren asked Corey to unzip her dress.

"What?"

"Do it."

With a semi-flaccid dick still inside her sopping cunt, he obeyed, albeit hesitantly, grasping the pull near her neck and lowering it halfway down until the back strap and hook and eye of the lacy bra were visible. Eyes locked with the surprised voyeur, she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to her elbows. Extracting her arms from the material, Lauren reached out and touched the man's belt buckle.

"Now the bra."

This time, there was no hesitation. Corey undid the clasp and removed the garment, tossing it onto the driver's seat. The chilly February air caused those half-inch-long nubs to become rigid once again.

"What's your name?" Lauren asked.

The flabbergasted onlooker looked at her hand on his belt.

"Mark."

Leaning back against Corey's chest, one hand behind his head, the dark-haired vixen smiled coyly. "Do you like my tits, Mark?"

"Very much so."

She could feel her husband shift beneath, his dick growing longer and firmer inside.

"Touch them then, Mark. Touch my breasts."

The stranger pulled back the sleeves of his camouflage hunting jacket and looked at Corey for approval, who simply nodded. Moving closer to the seat, feet firmly planted in the gravel parking lot, Mark groped and squeezed her small bosom, rubbing a thumb over those plumb nipples.

Lauren gasped and closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of the enticed peeping tom. After a few moments of exquisite fondling, her free hand began fumbling with his belt. Unable to loosen it from that angle, Mark gladly assisted. This helped immensely, allowing her to unbutton his jeans. With a lick of ruby red lips, she slid the zipper down and fished out an already hard cock through the fly of his briefs. Through all this debauchery, Corey had been steadily expanding in her burning pussy. Her ploy had worked.

"Fuck me."

"Jesus, babe, are you sure you..."?

"Shut up and FUCK ME!" Lauren begged, grinding her hips into his.

And so...he did, slowly at first, not wanting to cum too soon, but picking up the pace as her juices flooded his lap. Mark wasn't for want either, with her hand pulling his rather average size cock closer until he had to hold the truck's A-frame with one arm and the door with the other for stability. Corey looked over her bare shoulder as his wife jacked off the stranger who had been lucky enough to lose his car at the right time.

"YES, YES, YES," Lauren began to sing. Having been on the edge since her performance, it didn't take her long to cum, her cries of ecstasy rising and floating over the parking lot.

"Fuck me," she gasped for air. "Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME COREEEEE!"

Her frequent shrieks of passion came fast and furious. A nervous Mark glanced around quickly to ensure their little tailgate party was staying private. Others were walking to and from the club, but none were paying much attention. With one hand manhandling the woman's tits while hers cranked his knob for all she was worth, he could feel the warmth begin to rise from his balls. Precum dripped in elongating, shape-shifting strands from the head, plummeting to the kickplate below as gravity took hold. The sight of her tiny breasts jiggling as she bounced on the guy's lap was about to make him blow.

Corey was close as well, beaming from the fact that his wife had actually cum on his cock. He pushed his old hips as fast as they could go, quite literally lunging off the vinyl truck seats, up and into her gushing cunt. All the while the man just outside the partially opened door thrust his own dick into Lauren's hand. She, in turn, grabbed the shaft and bore down, the intention unmistakable.

"Yeah, baby," he barked in a raspy, smoker's voice, "stroke my shit, you fucking whore."

Pumping it faster, she wagged her tongue at him and then opened her mouth, presenting the perfect target. "Cum for me, Mark."

That did it. Although Lauren's gaping jaws were an impossible three feet away, no man in the world could resist that call to action.

"OH, FUCK YEAH! Here it comes! Take it, take it slut!"

The first blast was the largest and longest, missing by a large margin, low and outside. This flew wildly onto the glove box in front of them, landing with a splat, then slowly dripping down the latch handle. The second missed too, striping the front of her beautiful mauve dress. The third was bigger than the last and nearly hit the mark, most of it striking her cheek and chin.

Behind her, she heard Corey utter nonsensically, then groaned loudly. The spectacle of the stranger spraying cum around the cab of his pickup, then onto Lauren's face, was too much. With one final thrust upward into his wife's dirty slit, he came, roaring while gripping the headrest.

"GODDAMN YOU LAUREN!"

Then it happened. As that night's lucky winner and her husband looked on, Lauren came again on Corey's cock. It started with fiery eyes raised to the cab's roof, mouth moving silently as if she was trying to speak but nothing coming out. With her lissome body quaking, her right hand groped for something to hold onto, eventually landing on Mark's arm. When it did, she squeezed hard, finally letting loose the pent-up scream that pealed across the entire lot. At the same time, her pussy clamped down on Corey's spent shaft as she swamped his trousers and the seat below with a torrent of fluids.

Breathing heavily, Lauren turned to Corey and pulled his face to hers. Without thinking, he kissed her neck, then chin, the intensity of the last ten minutes causing him to ignore the salty, sticky glaze on her chiseled chin. Lips meeting, their tongues intertwined, a faint acidic scent stinging his nostrils as he realized for the first time he was tasting the remnants of another man's semen. Under any other circumstances, this would have been revolting. But there, in that parking lot, under that random happenstance, with his own cum dripping out of her unchaste hole, the eroticism of that moment could not be underestimated.

That new tattoo had certainly defined her emerging identity.

Easy indeed.

+++++

February 8th. Fourteen days to go.

Fortunately, the Iowan weather warmed into the fifties later in the week, making daytime temps perfect for cleaning out the garage. Corey pulled everything that wasn't bolted to the wall into the driveway while Lauren power-washed the concrete floor. Donning a tapered 'Cyclones' three-quarters length tee and black yoga pants, his wife's simple but sexy attire made it hard for him to keep his mind on task, but there was no other option. While she had until the following Wednesday to get back to Florida and her job, he only had this week, with still a lot to do. And even with taking vacation days, Corey wasn't entirely out of pocket. In fact, that night his boss Haul was holding a mandatory meeting at the construction site. Soon he'd need to knock off and go prepare. Still, now and then, he couldn't resist walking passed Lauren and playfully tapping her ass.

With all the ass grabbing, the noise from the compressor, and classic rock blaring from a radio on a shelf, the couple didn't notice the large man standing in the driveway leaning against Corey's pickup.

"Well, well, well, look who came home."

Somewhat startled, the pair looked up to see Zane Picardo dressed down as always. A pair of tight jeans hugged his bottom, while a denim jacket slung over a thin ribbed wife-beater seemed a bit out of place in the Iowan winter. In the street sat Bessy, his massive Harley-Davidson cruiser.

"You really should get a room."

Corey smacked Lauren on the buttocks one more time and went to shake his best friend's hand. "Good to see you, man. Didn't even hear you ride up."

Zane pushed off the truck and shook his pal's hand vigorously. "Not surprised, with all that metal playing."

"What brings you by?"

"Thought you might need some help," Picardo offered, looking past his friend, "but it looks like someone beat me to the punch."

Turning off the power washer and cradling its wand, Lauren strolled over with a parade wave and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hi. You look good."

"You too."

To say there was a moment of awkwardness would be an understatement. Finally, Corey piped up to break the tension.

"Actually, there are some pieces of furniture in the basement I need to get to the backyard for the junk guys to pick up. They weigh a ton."

"Sure man, anything you need." Zane walked back to his bike, pulling off his riding gloves. Corey saw Lauren's gaze follow the biker's firm and powerful ass, especially when he bent over the saddlebag to stow the gloves.

"Thanks. Let me grab a couple brews," Corey nodded, disappearing through the kitchen door.

Lauren and her one-time lover stood motionless, neither knowing what to say. Especially with her husband just yards away in the other room.

"Guess he didn't mention me coming into town?" she asked, a bit annoyed. The motorcycle mechanic holding her up against the wall in that dingy Bakersfield motel room fingering her to a raucous orgasm flashed in front of her.

"Nope," Zane answered flatly. Stepping forward, he closed the space between them. She wasn't the only one with memories. Her servicing him while on her knees in that bathroom stall at Freddy's was still very vivid.

"I'm glad you two are friends again."

"Me too. But are we?"

Glancing up from the massive pecs beneath the too-small wife-beater, she smiled unsurely. "Of course."

The energy flowing between the two could have powered the entire block, something that did not go unnoticed when Corey walked back into the garage with three cold beers. The look on the pair's faces told him he'd interrupted something poignant. Exactly what, he wasn't sure, but seeing the two hadn't seen each other since they'd slept together, it was a good bet that something was related.

Things between Zane and Corey could have turned sour again right then had the older man not decided to take the high road. The two friends had finally gotten past the Ashley Date and simply wanted to move on.

"To friendship!" the threesome professed, clinking the longnecks together.

+++++

"Babe, we've got this one," Corey huffed and puffed as Zane effortlessly tilted a large dresser onto a dolly. "Can you clear out the wardrobe over there? That thing is mahogany, better to move it empty."

As the two men guided one piece of furniture up a makeshift plywood ramp laid over the five basement steps to the backyard, the biker's bulging muscles were quite evident. While only a few years younger than her husband, Zane was in much better shape and built like a mountain...with a large package. Flush in the face from an imagined heat, Lauren opened the armoire and began rifling through the clothing. She pulled back a blanket just as the guys returned. Beneath it was a black leather strapless corset, liquid leather pants, and a matching motorcycle jacket.

Shit, Lauren bit her bottom lip, Ashley's outfit.

Knowing the awards ceremony was still a sore subject between the two friends, she tried to hide them, but it was too late.

"Whacha got?" Corey asked, freezing when he and Zane immediately recognized the clothes. Lauren stammered, scooping them up. "Uh, nothing, just old stuff."

She didn't get far before Corey stepped in her way. Fingering the corset she'd worn on that fateful day, the fact that he'd pushed her into the biker's arms - and deceived a friend - wore heavy.

"Some night, huh?"

Zane and Lauren looked at each other nervously. The biker cleared his throat.

"Yeah." What else was there to say?

"You enjoyed yourselves that night, yes?"

Neither of them said anything.

Corey nodded a few times, with little expression except for the sneer pulling on his upper lip. "Of course you did," he muttered, wiping the perspiration off his brow with a shop towel.

What followed was one of those pregnant moments everyone knows signals the end of a conversation. All three climbed out of the basement silently and meandered to the driveway where Corey thanked the mechanic for his help. He wasn't keen on leaving those two in the driveway by themselves, but he had to prepare for the meeting that night. Besides, what could happen? They were in plain sight of the office window.

+++++

Chloe Calleigh poured spaghetti noodles from a boiling pot into a colander, plopped huge pasta forks full onto two plates, and smothered it with zesty red sauce. Her roommate Charlie Weber used a cheese grater to spritz a healthy dose of parmesan cheese over both. Friends since the same orphanage, the two often spent the night in, smoking a little weed and binge-watching TV. Although there was more there, an undercurrent of feelings that both were well aware of, neither had acted upon it. Well, Charlie had once, being a red-blooded twenty-two-year-old. But Chloe had immediately, albeit it reluctantly, shut him down. Not because she found him undesirable. Quite the opposite, he was a cute lanky kid with mop hair standing about six-foot and appeared to be packing. What wasn't there to like? That last part made her laugh sometimes too since he'd seen her naked hundreds of times, but not once had she seen him.

No, the reason Chloe kept Charlie at arm's length was exactly because she had feelings. Feelings she'd never let on about, and may never for fear of hurting him. A sex worker did not make for a good girlfriend, in the traditional sense anyway, and most men could not handle a relationship with a woman who danced naked and had sex for a living. Oh, he might be able to handle the novelty of it for a short time, but knowing her friend's psyche, it would only be a matter of time before the peculiarity destroyed their friendship. And Chloe valued his friendship above all else. In fact, he was her only real friend.

"Glamorous Real Estate or General Med tonight?" Charlie asked, stuffing a forkful of noodles into his mouth.

"I don't think the next season of Med dropped yet. How about Zombies of Haunted Hollow?"

The young man cocked an eyebrow, looking surprised. "Wait...you and gore don't mix. You'll spend the entire movie with a blanket up to your eyes. And sometimes over them."

Next to the chipper redhead's plate, her phone began ringing. "Baaaahhhh," she playfully dismissed his jest, looking at the caller ID. "I can handle it."

Jason Aldridge, aka Jax.

Pulling a long strand of crimson hair back behind her ear, Chloe held up a finger, indicating to Charlie it was a call she had to take.

"Hi, Jason, what's shakin'?"

"Hey, love. Good to hear your voice again."

"Yours too."

Charlie sat back in his chair and chewed slowly, pretending to browse on his phone as the caller spoke.

"Listen, remember Georgie Hammond? He cast me as lead in a shoot this Monday but the chick that was supposed to work with me is MIA. Haven't heard from her in weeks. So, like, I told him I'd find a replacement. You interested?"

"Maybe. How much?"

"Two grand...might be able to get him to three since it's last minute. You got a recent test?"

Although he couldn't hear the man on the other line, Charlie knew the name, and a lump formed in his throat. The guy was an arrogant prick and whatever he was pitching he hope Chloe would pass.

"Just last week, yeah."

"Good, you in?"

"Anything I should know? Anal?"

"I haven't seen the script yet, but for that kind of money, you can probably bet on it. You good with that?"

Chloe could see Charlie's eyes close in disdain, his head imperceptibly shaking with disapproval. She tried to catch his eye, but he avoided looking at her.

"I'm good, just need to know how to prepare. Theme?"

"One of his hokey hotwife series is all I know."

"You bull or cuck?"

"What do you think?"

"Right. Who's the cuck then?"

"Don't know, maybe Ambrose Friar."

"Oh, he's perfect as that."

"Yeah. Okay then, I'll text you the address. Shoot starts at three, be there by two. You know how much paperwork there is."

"Gotcha. See ya then."

Seconds later a text chirped with the address.

Charlie finally looked up and sighed, setting down his phone like he hadn't been paying attention. "New gig?"

The dancer looked at him with a hint of endearment. "Any chance you can give me a lift to Coconut Grove on Monday?"

Although not happy she was about to make another film, he'd gotten used to his friend's line of work. It's what she did, and would definitely have to if she wanted to make her goal of retiring by thirty. Ten more years to go.

"Of course," Charlie shrugged off his scowl and smiled. "But it will come at a price. Tonight, we watch Battleground of the Dead."

Chloe giggled. "Deal. I'll do the dishes, you stuff a bowl, and get the show queued up."

+++++

From his home office in front of the house, Corey could see, but not hear, Zane and his wife on the driveway chatting. They both looked a little awkward and unsettled.

"Still friends, right?" Zane asked.

"Yep," Lauren nodded, arms folded across her chest.

"Are you sure?"

The two stared at the concrete, listening to an unusually warm breeze rustling the bushes. Quite unexpectedly, or maybe not, a mischievous thought popped into her head, so scampish that it just had to be that stepping stone to the next level. That was if Zane would play along. With hands clasped behind her back, she swayed back and forth, a devilish, conniving smirk on her face.

"Since Corey has a meeting tonight, how about we go out to dinner and talk about it?"

The biker had seen that body language once before and looked nervously at the front of the house, specifically to where he knew Corey's office was.

"He can't hear us, silly."

"I'm not sure that's such a wise thing," Zane asserted. "Me and him just patched things up."

"It's just dinner."

Picardo wrinkled his nose. Lauren's expression was one of a lioness leading her prey into the den.

"You don't think Corey is going to find that a bit uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. In fact, I'm counting on it."

Now the mechanic was really lost. "Not following."

"I need your help."

Lauren walked Zane to his bike, explaining how she was trying to prepare Corey for the move to Miami, where their lifestyle would surely ramp up. It would be better to gauge his tolerance here than there.

Straddling the Harley, the big man scoffed as he pulled his riding gloves back on. "And...you want me to be part of some grand experiment?"

"I prefer to look at it as more of a rehearsal. But only if you want to."

From inside, Corey was having trouble preparing for his meeting, especially when he saw his wife reach out and put her hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Remember, it's not like he doesn't condone me being with other men. He's into this and has it bad."

Although it was only in the mid-fifties, Zane began to sweat. To hear a woman that he'd known forever talk this way was, well...really fucking hot.

"What do I have to do?"

Lauren glanced up the walkway towards the house. Corey saw her and quickly put his head down like he was reading.

"Come on to me."

Zane cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Flirt with me. Be my date."

"With him knowing?"

"There's no point if he doesn't."

"But doesn't he, eh, like to watch?"

"It's more than just that," Lauren explained. "The kink involves a delicate balance between pleasure and pain. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally. He needs to feel jealousy, envy, and anxiety, all at once. It's a stew that gets him off."

"I don't think I should be hearing this."

"If not you, then who? You're his best friend. Who better to cuck him?"

Zane tried to recall what he had read and seen about the fetish. "I'm not gay."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Corey peering at them from behind the office drapes. With a deep breath, she decided it was time. Placing an arm around the biker's neck and a hand on his chest, she leaned against him in a most friendly way.

"Neither is he. Some guys are bi or whatever the term is these days, but we both know he's not. This is about him realizing he doesn't have what it takes in bed anymore and wanting to be put in his place. All day long he bosses people around. This grounds him."

"So," Zane frowned, "like I said, watching you with other guys." He was failing to see the difference.

"Watching is part of it, but not all. Lots of guys with the fetish never actually get to see their girl do it. It's more about the knowing. Knowing she's going to have sex, knowing the guy is ten times better in bed, knowing she may have feelings for them. Then there's the humiliation aspect. Some guys aren't into it. Corey seems to be, I just need to know how far to take it."

"And that's where I come in?"

"If you'd like."

"This...humiliation...like in S&M?"

Tapping fingernails on his solid pecs, very close to a nipple, Lauren shook her head. "That's physical. What I'm talking about is mostly emotional. Emotional castration." Christ, I'm starting to sound like Chloe.

"I...I don't know, Laur. That sounds like some heavy shit. I'm all for having kinky fun, but..."

"You already have what it takes."

His expression turned to one of bewilderment, not quite understanding. Lauren caught Corey looking once again, so she put her head on Zane's shoulder and whispered in his ear using her sexiest voice.

[br]"Good God, I'm in your wife, Corey. I'm fucking your ol' lady. Deep in your wife's little pussy."

The biker dropped his head, remembering the words he'd howled repeatedly when balls deep in her the night of the awards ceremony.

"Drilling your best friend's wife excited you, didn't it, baby? You know you got off on it too."

He couldn't deny it. Finally fucking a woman who'd been only a friend for decades had been one of the highlights of his life. Knowing that she was also a buddy's wife made it that much more decadent.

"Are you in?" Lauren asked matter-of-factly.

"So you and me, um...?"

"We'll see how it goes."

A chance to be with this woman again was too much to turn down. And it was for a good cause, right?

"What do I have to do?" he asked for the second time.

"We need to make him bleed," Lauren replied softly, taking Zane's hand and putting it over her heart. "Here."

"Jesus, Lauren, I don't want to hurt the guy. I mean, c'mon."

"That's the beauty of it. He can stop it with one word. That's it. One word and it's over."

Both looked toward the house only to see the drapes flutter back into place. Both felt the developing sexual impetus. Cranking the noisy motorcycle to life, Zane put on his helmet and nodded as walked it back into the street.

"Yeah, I'm in."

+++++

Lauren was leaning over the vanity stool, foot elevated, painting her toenails when Corey poked his head through the master bedroom door to announce he was leaving for the meeting. It was curious to see her freshly showered body showing through a thin rose-colored satin robe and the plethora of makeup on the table.

"Did you and Zane have a nice chat?" he asked facetiously.

Looking up at him from behind those long, sensuous bangs, Lauren smiled. "Yes, we did."

"Going somewhere?"

"Out."

"Oh?"

"With Zane."

Corey felt that lump again, only this time it was the size of a baseball, nearly suffocating him. Lauren fanned one foot's polish, then raised the other. In doing so, he could see the freshly waxed lips between her legs.

"I asked him to dinner."

"Why?"

"You're going to be working and I'm too tired to fix anything."

Corey swallowed hard. Before Ashley, her going out for a bite to eat with Zane would have been perfectly innocuous. But now?

"The pizza joint down at the corner delivers, you know."

Blowing the bangs from her eyes with a hint of impatience, Lauren gave him one of her sultriest looks. The heavy mascara gave her a decidedly skanky appearance. "Is that going to be a problem?"

It was her way of giving him an out, a chance to protest, one which she would honor. But he didn't. As typical, he did nothing. Lauren stopped painting her nails and slowly sashayed over to her husband, who was growing paler by the second. "It's just a dinner date, okay?"

"Yeah," Corey cracked a half-smile as she kissed him on the cheek. Closing his eyes, he let the mounting angst roll over him like a wet blanket, pulling him every which way. Savoring and dreading, willing and unwilling. All at the same time.

"Tell you what. After dinner, he said we might go by one of the bars his coworkers hang out at. Why not join us after your meeting?"

Nonplussed at the suggestion, Corey wasn't expecting that. Perhaps their dinner WAS as innocent as it sounded. "Uh, sure. Let me know where."

"Good, now skedaddle, he picks me up in thirty minutes."

Reluctantly, Corey slunk back downstairs to the office and grabbed his computer bag. He was walking through the kitchen on the way to the garage when his phone received a text message.

ZANE: Lauren mention dinner tonight?

Corey swallowed that damn lump the best he could. The timing was too perfect. It was obvious his pal had been talking to his wife behind his back. So much for innocence.

COREY: You know she did.

Zane hung his head. It was she who also prompted his texting as a way to prime her husband's fetish.

ZANE: Listen, about dinner...temps after sundown are going to be pretty cold. I only have Bessy, which is fine for me but might be a bit chilly for Lauren, you know?

Corey stared at the screen as the realization of what his friend was asking sunk in.

COREY: So, let me get this straight. You want to borrow my truck to take my wife out on a date?

Zane felt like shit, still unsure of his role or whether he wanted any part of it at all. But Lauren assured him asking for the truck would 'turn the screws' that his friend so craved. With a deep sigh, he tapped back.

ZANE: Something like that.

Corey closed his eyes again, the lump in his throat dropping like a rock to his crotch, manifesting itself as a pressure that squeezed his balls in a vicelike grip. An erotic, exhilarating tightness fueled by the irony and arrogance of the ask. A pleasantry that men without the fetish could not hope to understand.

The lack of response spooked the mechanic, who decided to back off.

ZANE: Never mind, I'll get a cab to take us.

He was about to open a ride-share app when an unexpected response came.

Keys are in the kitchen. Your date knows where to find them.

Shoulders slumped, Corey threw his backpack into Lauren's Volkswagen and reconnected the cables to the battery's posts, not knowing if it would even start after seven months. Luckily, it roared to life with little prodding, and he backed out of the driveway. As he did, a photo of the happily married couple, cheek to cheek, taken a year ago when they vacationed in the Appalachians, swung in a small frame from the rearview mirror.

It was going to be a very long meeting.

+++++

Ruth Nunnery, an elderly but spry widow, looked up from tending to her landscaping when she heard an approaching motorcycle rumbling down the normally quiet street. Frowning as it came into view, she recognized it as belonging to that rough-looking character who frequently visited the Millers across the street. Dressed like he was in some kind of gang, he always, always, revved the engine before shutting it off. What was the point of that?

Today was no different, but she did notice the man was dressed much nicer than ever before. Gone was the denim and leather, replaced with new khaki slacks and a long sleeve Henley shirt. The nosy neighbor shivered just thinking about how cold it must be riding that bike without a jacket. Peering from behind a tall hedgerow, she watched as he rang the doorbell and waited. Moments later, Ruth saw her younger neighbor Lauren open the door and step out on the stoop, dressed like she was going out for the night. Wearing a tight brown leather skirt and even tighter beige turtleneck sweater, Mrs. Nunnery gasped when the two embraced, kissed each other briefly on the lips, and disappeared inside.

Wait. Did she see that correctly? Having been in her yard for over an hour, she had noticed Corey leave by himself not long ago in that little Jetta Lauren drove. And now this?

Shaking her head, Ruth began to think the worse of the mother of two whom she had babysat numerous times. That is, until the Miller's garage door went up and she saw Corey's truck back down the driveway with the handsome, rugged man driving. Feeling relieved, she admonished herself for thinking bad thoughts. They were probably just going to meet her husband somewhere. After a quick wave, she watched the pickup drive down the street into the setting sun.

+++++

As tumultuous as his best friend's evening had started, Zane was experiencing jitters of his own. Not that he was shy or inherently nervous - if anything, most people viewed him as cocky - but because of where this whole 'date' thing might go...and how it might affect Corey.

It's just dinner, he told himself...repeatedly...yet the potential for more saw him hovering over his dresser, fingering a box of XL condoms. Twice, he took one out just to put it back. The third time, however, he slipped a packet into his wallet before heading out. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt Corey, but Christ, if the guy was on board with it, Zane wasn't an idiot. She'd been one of the best pieces of ass he ever had. Who the fuck could pass up another chance at that?

These were the thoughts that caused the biker to appear skittish when Lauren answered the door. Breathtaking in a leather skirt that hugged her ass and hips, the long-sleeve turtleneck helped accent her firm abs and braless B-cup breasts. In the right light, the areolae and nipples were clearly visible beneath the ribbed, beige material. Straight, long dark hair fell about her shoulders in both front and back, and her perfume was simply intoxicating.

After an awkward greeting, where both had stared unsurely at each other, they managed to ignore the sexual tension that threatened to take them to the bedroom rather than the truck. Fortunately, the pair was able to get on the road before allowing any primal desires to derail the plan.

The plan.

What exactly was the plan?

Lauren mulled this over as she watched Zane adjust the truck's mirrors and seat to accommodate his large frame. She couldn't lie, he looked hot. Really hot. The memories of him smacking her around and pounding her into oblivion were still fresh. It made her wet just thinking that it could happen again. Regardless of how the night played out, Corey would have to be part of it. If there was any plan at all, that was it. To cuck him hard.

Unmercifully hard.

To make him bleed.

+++++

The understandably distracted project manager drove his wife's Jetta through the construction site's chain-link gate and parked in front of the coordination trailer. Turning off the engine, he rested his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard it whitened his knuckles. Twelve weeks ago, almost to the day, he was in a similar comatose state during the Ashley Date, running only on the adrenaline that came with the kink. But that was different. He'd sent Lauren away with Zane, out of town, where he merely heard about their evening together much later.

This time, they were out there somewhere close, supposedly eating dinner. Supposedly.

What if they never left the house? What if they...

The door to the trailer flew open and crew chief Haul Carew stuck his head out.

"You coming in, Miller? Or should we start without you?"

Reluctantly, Corey stepped out of the car and followed his boss inside.

While he may have been there in body, his mind was anyplace but.

+++++

After being shown to their half-moon booth, Zane and Lauren slid toward the back, close together. They sat in silence for a few minutes perusing the predominantly Italian menu and making small talk. She raved about her job and possible promotion; he complained about being in a dead-end job and how he hope to one day escape.

"You should move to Florida. Lots of motors to repair in marinas, and you can ride Bessy year-round."

Zane nodded. "And you'd be there. That's a bonus."

Lauren smiled, extracted the cherry from her drink, and shook the bangs from her eyes.

"Yes," she said softly. "I'll be there too."

Just like in that Bakersfield motel room, their gaze held fast, and for just the briefest of moments, the world stopped turning. It started again when the waiter appeared with a wine list.

"Would you like to order a bottle to go with your meal?"

"Most definitely!" the pair replied, nearly in unison, smiling sheepishly at the silliness of their identical reaction. Below the tablecloth, eager fingers interlaced.

+++++

It was nearly eight-thirty and the project manager meeting continued to drone on. Corey had been mostly quiet, letting others make decisions that in three weeks he wasn't going to give a shit about. Feigning interest in what the others were saying, he glanced down at his phone as it lit up with a photo text.

Lauren and Zane together in some restaurant.

Drawing a deep breath, he took a closer look. Both were seated in a booth, snuggling, his buddy's arm around her shoulders as they smiled at whoever was taking the snap. He marveled at how lovely and sexy she looked in that turtleneck. It was one of his favorites and for good reason. It made her succulent breasts strain against the fabric, begging to be manhandled.

LAUREN: Dinner was awesome. Zane is such a gentleman. Headed to Shady's on Ingersoll. Coming?

Corey pondered the location. It was on the other side of the city, a good forty-minute drive, and there was no telling when Haul would call it a night.

COREY: Still locked down. Planning on it.

Seconds later a heart emoji was added to his response.

Haul saw his employee's momentary distraction and grinned, guessing at who he was texting with. "What's it been? Twenty-nine years? And you guys still pine for each other? I know she's only in town for a few more days. We'll have you out of here in thirty. Don't worry, Casanova, she'll be home when you get there."

Carew's oldest and best PM smiled back weakly and sighed.

Home when I get there? Hardly. Those days are long gone.

+++++

Zane pulled his friend's borrowed truck into Shady's parking lot and hurried around to the other side to help Lauren out. Holding onto his massive biceps, she plopped out of the cab and into his arms. He started to move away, but she pulled him back with a deep kiss. Although the air temperature was cooling off, they were just getting heated up; energy hot and tearing through their veins with the same heat as they remembered. The chemistry the night of the Ashley date was back. And it felt wonderful.

The biker was the first to let go, gently brushing hair from her flush face. "Um...wow."

"Yeah," Lauren exhaled. "Wow."

Walking across the parking lot, neither said a word. They didn't have to. They knew exactly how they wanted the night to end. Problem was that a part of the plan wasn't there. Zane stopped just before climbing the steps to the bar.

"So is he coming?"

"Later."

"What do I do?"

Slipping an arm through his, she hugged him. "You do you."

"And when he gets here?"

Lauren stood on her tiptoes and kissed the big man again, ending it with some powerful tongue sucks.

"Just be my date."

+++++

Shortly after ten o'clock, Corey steered the nimble Jetta into the parking lot of Shady's Ale House, having driven the forty minutes from the construction site to the mid-town craft brewery. Spying his truck around the corner under a lamp, he pulled next to it and got out. A quick touch of the stone-cold hood told him they'd been there for a while.

With unmistakable honky-tonk flair on the outside and notes from a popular Georgia jam band blaring from inside, he sprinted up the steps. It was busy for a Thursday night, and no one took notice as the mature gentleman wearing business casual slipped in the side entrance and edged along a wall, surveying the place. Like any good tavern, it had a long mahogany bar, thirty or forty feet in length, with two dozen or so patrons crowding along the rail vying for the bartenders' attention. In the middle of the room was a birch dance floor where another dozen or so patrons grooved to the country-flavored jam. Numerous tables surrounded them, and more were set up out of the way on either side of the bar. Regardless of where one looked, it was filled with loud and boisterous customers. But nowhere was Lauren or Zane.

Crossing the dance floor, bumping into the occasional unsteady dancer, Corey made his way to the other side of the pub, looking for any signs of his wife and friend. He was beginning to think they weren't even there, but that could not be.

The truck was outside now, wasn't it?

Then he heard, in that brief instant when one song ends and the other begins, that familiar, wholly feminine, and beautiful laugh that he knew so well. Another cackle resonated through the air. Yes, that was her. Side stepping a group engrossed in a basketball game being televised behind the bar, Corey caught a glimpse of Lauren in a niche on the other side. Just enough of a profile to know it was her. She looked breathtaking in that beige sweater which outlined her small breasts perfectly and barely concealed those dark areolae. From that partially obstructed angle, he could see she had a seltzer in one hand and was standing near a table chatting with those seated. Excusing his way passed yet more customers, more of her came into view when stepping into a clearing. And that caused him to freeze.

There, yucking it up with whom Corey assumed to be Zane's coworkers, was his wife snuggled up against his best friend, he with an arm around Lauren's waist and she a hand on his shoulder. They both seemed jovial and very engaged, laughing and conversing.

Lovely.

Occasionally, Picardo's hand would drop to her ass for a squeeze, to which she'd just smile and bury her face in his neck. The doleful Miller patriarch stood there for at least five minutes watching with conflicted emotion until his wife finally looked over and noticed her husband.

"Hey there! So glad you could make it!" Lauren winked and wiggled her fingers, intoxicated, not moving from the biker's side.

Zane quickly dropped his arm from her waist, looking a bit guilty. Breaking away, Lauren pulled Corey into the group's circle and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing his heart to sink. The air about her was different, a bit distant. Odder yet was the way she introduced him...like one would an old friend.

"Hey everybody, this is Corey!"

A murmur rose from the seats as several hands shot up in acknowledgment. Trying to remember their names, the executive office manager - who prided herself on a great memory - went around the table.

"This is Kevin and his wife Mable, and um, Bill and Debbie, I think."

The two couples nodded pleasantly.

"And the two single studs over here are, eh, Arty and Bennie. Amirite?"

The young men gave her a smile and thumbs up.

"YES!" Lauren clapped her hands pleased with herself, jumping up and down. Most of the men were also pleased, watching her tiny boobs bounce freely under the turtleneck.

Corey managed a weak smile, then tried to pull her in. To his dismay, she spun out of his arms and quickly returned to Zane's side, connecting to him like Velcro, one knee bent with a hand on the mechanic's chest. The older man's eyes grew narrow whilst Zane's grew wider, the latter not quite sure of how his long-time friend was going to react. The two stared cooly at each other until, mercifully, a waitress happened by. Stopping her, Lauren laughed and pointed at the newcomer.

"Newbie buys the next round," she smiled sweetly at Corey while plucking at Zane's hair.

As everyone ordered more drinks, Lauren continued to paw at the biker, grinding the front of her skirt into his thigh, occasionally stealing an irreverent and naughty glance at her flummoxed husband. For the next several minutes, the odd man out listened to the grease monkeys talk shop like there was nothing wrong with the picture. And to them, nothing was; they were just out with some coworkers having a few drinks. Secretly, though, they were most happy to see their buddy had brought his smoking hot girlfriend again. The last time they'd seen her, she'd just blown their star mechanic in the men's room.

Not knowing much about motorcycles, Corey tuned them out, instead fixating on watching his wife and best friend interact. How smitten she'd become with him! Much more than he would have thought.

Did he really fuck her THAT well?

A half a beer later, it became clear the two were purposefully ignoring him, acting like he wasn't even there. Now and again, Zane glanced over nervously and looked like he wanted to say something, but Lauren always regained his attention, giggling at some random thing. At least his friend had the decency to look a bit shamefaced.

Corey knew deep down it was all a test. But Zane going along with it was hard to get past, especially after their recent heart-to-hearts. Then again, the lure of pussy was an age-old cause of conflict, making many a man do much worse.

The dynamics changed when Bill and Debbie got up and headed to the dance floor, pulling Zane and Lauren with them. Exhausted, Corey flopped in one of the empty chairs, looking dejected.

"Been awhile, friend," Bennie clinked the project manager's longneck.

Not long enough, but okay. "Uh, yeah, good to see you."

"Let's see, must've been at Dusty's Roadkill, right? After that awards ceremony. Glad your pal brought Ashley 'round again. He really hasn't mentioned her much."

Jesus, that's right. To them she's Ashley.

"You remember those snaps of her in those leathers, right?"

Corey shot an irritated look at the man. "How could I forget?"

"Yeah, no shit, huh? Too bad he didn't take any real interesting ones, if you know what I mean?" Bennie grinned with a crusty laugh. "Tell me man, since you're his bro...you ever seen her naked?"

"Ben!" Mable admonished the motor technician. "You're drunk. Have some respect, huh?"

"Just askin'. God what I wouldn't do for a crack at that."

"Straight up," Arty chimed in, agreeing with his friend. "What a cutie. Centerfold material. Wonder if she's gonna blow him in the john again tonight," he elbowed Bennie.

"You're a bunch of creeps," Mable rolled her eyes.

Corey couldn't disagree. They all looked towards the dance floor and saw Zane with a silly expression plastered on his face while Lauren pranced around him in circles, twerking, like some kind of drunken Mayan mating ceremony.

"At this rate, she will," Kevin blurted out, earning him a hard jab in the ribs from his wife.

Bored with talking about a woman who was clearly out of their league, Bennie, Arty and Kevin began chatting about something completely unrelated, leaving Corey to watch his wife and oldest confidant hump each other as a slow song set the mood. The godforsaken lump returned, choking his throat. Against a not so powerful will, there was a tingle below of fresh pruriency, a sure sign the kink had not abandoned him. Instead, it seemed to be thriving at what was playing out before him, obsessed with the treatment bestowed upon the lowly cuckold. The feelings began to overtake prudence and he closed his eyes, letting it all wash over his warped and depraved body.

+++++

Lauren knew exactly what she was doing, and it was working. As she fawned over Zane in plain sight of her husband, the affects were clear...in both men. Corey was predictable. Show interest another man and he fetishized it in many complicated ways. Zane was more straightforward. A recent divorcee, he was simply looking to get laid. No mystery there. Nor had there been a plan B that night, either. Had Corey not shown up, she would have still gotten her jollies. In the end, she was glad it was going the way it was supposed to.

It's more fun this way.

+++++

"You okay, man? You want another beer?"

Opening his eyes, Corey blinked at Bennie. "No, I'm fine."

Somewhere between wallowing in the building angst, he'd apparently also taken to stroking the bottle's longneck like some kind of perverted phallic symbol. Scanning the room, he saw Lauren stand on her tiptoes, taking Zane's face into her hands, and kissing him deeply, as the downtempo song ended. They made no attempt at covering their eager tongues searching each other's mouths. Dropping back on the three-inch heels, she put her head on the large man's chest and looked over at her husband, a broad, disparaging smile creeping across her face. The consternation in Corey's face told her all she needed to know. As they walked back to the table, Picardo took a detour on the other side of the bar.

"Are you sure he's diggin' this? It sure doesn't look like it."

"Enjoyment is subjective, right? Besides, he can stop it if the flames grow too high. At least I hope he would, 'cause it's going to get a hell of a lot hotter."

Zane shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

The office manager's face suddenly turned solemn as she led the rest of the way to where his coworkers were enjoying fresh beverages.

So do I.

+++++

Being the last to the table, Lauren was tapped to take a group photo of the mechanics and their wives. After taking a few - just in case - Mable's eyes grew big. While staring at the camera she noticed something about Zane's date that hadn't been obvious before in the bar's dim lighting.

"Oh my God, Ashley! Are you guys engaged? Zane, you dog! Why didn't you tell us?"

Lauren immediately held up her left hand, showing off the brilliant rock.

"What? Noooo!" she giggled, pulling Zane closer. "This big lug is my date, not my husband."

That got a few snickers. It was clear they thought her response was just a silly joke.

"On the other hand," she waved in Corey's direction, "he is."

The air around the table thinned as the group fell silent, made weirder by the sounds of the pub all around them. Several looked between the couple and the man she just called her husband.

Finally, Debbie cleared her throat. "Okay, so you guys have an open marriage?" Then to Mable, "It's quite common these days."

"Oh no," Lauren corrected the woman. "He just likes to watch me fuck." Zane winced as she draped herself over him. "Manly men, like this hunk!"

All eyes went to the older man, who felt a sudden urge to vomit. No longer was it jest. Now the titters were for real, some trying to suppress them, some not. The beer coming out Arty's nose served to highlight the initial shock.

"Really?" Corey mouthed at his wife.

With a wicked laugh, Lauren pulled her date towards the dance floor. "C'mon, move those feet!" Zane followed, doing anything that would get him away from his friend, who was obviously going to need a moment.

The other wives did the same as well, tugging on their husbands, mostly to break the palpable tension. This left Corey with the two single mechanics, both with sly but inquisitive expressions on their faces. It took them a minute to articulate what was they were thinking, but not long.

"So, dude, you didn't mention you were married to that fox, even when we were talking that all that smack."

"Must've slipped my mind."

"Sure, whatever you say. Were you like, getting off on that or something?"

Corey's hand squeezed the beer bottle so tight his knuckles were turning white. Months ago, he would have bounced it off this clown's head. But now? Now he was riveted to the spot, an unseen force holding his tongue, a twisted divertissement borne from the sick pleasure of just being outed.

Arty blew the remaining beer from his nostrils, his face sticky from the brew. "Shit, man, I gotta go clean up."

The remaining two men watched him waddle through the throng of other patrons, wiping his cheeks. When he was gone, Bennie drew his chair closer, his voice hushed.

"So, you...uh, you really let Pic tap that, huh?"

Corey said nothing. His gaze had returned to Lauren and Zane on the dance floor.

"Noooo shit, man? Like, whenever he wants to?"

The lack of responses confirmed Bennie's assumptions.

"Goddamn, son, can I get in on this? I mean, hell," the tech chortled, "if you want to sit in the corner and beat off, be my guest!"

This time Corey turned towards Zane's coworker and blinked. That's it. Just blinked.

"Hey, I don't mean any offense, okay? Ain't nothing wrong if you like to watch your ol' lady get boned. To each his own, I always say. I mean, that kind of porn looks pretty kinky on the internet...yeah, yeah...even...transcendental."

The guy beamed, proud of himself for using such a big word.

Corey gave Bennie a most contemptuous look and turned back to where his wife was practically raping his best friend. The pair were groping and grinding now, not even dancing, both quite fucked up from several hours of drinking. They pawed, they mauled, they kissed. Zane dipped her here and there, hand cupping a breast or ass cheek, evidently no longer caring who was watching. She pushed her ass into his crotch, raking a finger or two over it in passing. Pelvis against pelvis, they turned in a circle, rubbing and stroking, oblivious to anyone else in the place.

And through it all, Corey was aroused. Really aroused, his cock slowly growing beneath ever-tightening pants.

The whole scene was electrifying and humiliating, all at once. He should have been angry at being exposed in such a manner, even if they were casual acquaintances. After all, this was still their hometown.

But he wasn't. In this respect, the kink kept him in check, reserved, paralyzed by the stew of emotions that were keeping him at bay. It was a curse; a pathetic, profane, and glorious spell which couldn't be broken, nor did he want it to be. He'd been humiliated to be sure, but there was something about it that turned him on, made him shiver with sensual gratification.

"Listen, friend," Bennie continued, scribbling something on a napkin with the check pen, "it'd be a shame to let Pic have all the fun. How 'bout you give me a call? Whatta ya say? Maybe get me a date with your ol' lady? I swear she won't be able to walk for a week."

Everyone turned and stared when the grayer of the two men quickly stood and landed both fists soundly on the table, sending empty glasses flying. In an instant, Zane jetted in from the dance floor and put himself in the middle of his two friends, apparently not as completely unaware as previously thought.

"All good, boys?" he asked, gathering from Corey's expression things were not.

"Tell your fucking pal here that Lau...Ashley...is off limits."

Picardo pat his oldest buddy on the chest, while simultaneously staring Bennie down until he took a seat.

"I'm out," Corey growled, turning for the door, ignoring Lauren as he blew past her.

"Us too, man," Zane called after him, "right behind ya."

Outside in the parking lot, Corey meandered between the Jetta and truck, bending over, chastising himself for being such a prick. He had no right to react that way. Bennie was right. After all, what was wrong with wanting a piece of ass from an obvious slut? Absolutely nothing. Standing, he took a deep breath and looked around, only to see Zane with Lauren in tow, stumbling across the gravel, repeatedly dropping the pickup's ignition keys.

Oh, hell no, you're not driving ANYWHERE.

"Not a chance, Zane."

"Cors, really, I got this."

Unlocking the Volkswagen, the older - and apparently wiser - of the three opened the front and back passenger doors.

"Get in," he barked. "We'll come back tomorrow."

Knowing his friend was right, Zane dropped the keys into Corey's hand and ducked in the back. A bit more serene, the ambushed husband began to close the rear door when to his surprise Lauren dove onto the seat next to his friend, leaving the front passenger seat cold and empty.

The lump got bigger. So this is how it's going to be, huh?

"Home James," she ordered, pointing towards the road, giggling uncontrollably.

Rattled, Corey slid behind the wheel and started the engine, his head imperceptibly shaking with disquiet. Moments later, the white sedan pulled out of Shady's lot with one bedeviled driver and two drunks in the back, whispering and falling about like a couple of blathering fools.

+++++

The Iowan night sky had become clear and cold, filled with plenty of star shine to pave the forty-five-minute drive back to the Miller residence. As the German coupe hurtled down the highway, there were as many distinct streams of consciousness marinating in the dark cabin as there were occupants.

Zane sat awkwardly in the seat directly behind his friend, the cramped space forcing his knees to an uncomfortable position. Next to him, behind the front passenger's seat, was Lauren, who like him, had drunk way more than intended. This left both hammered and very horny, each looking out their respective windows, thinking back to that night in Bakersfield. Although invited to the bar, the mechanic had secretly hoped Corey wouldn't show, knowing his specter would only cause unease amongst the three, and probably ruin any chances at a repeat with the slinky wife. Lauren looked incredibly hot sitting there in that thin, braless turtleneck and leather skirt. It was only Corey's presence in the driver's seat that made him behave, although Zane wasn't sure the guy would do anything about it if he did make a move. Certainly, the outing of her husband had taken both men by surprise and didn't help alleviate any tension. And yet, it served to show the older man was willing to take whatever his wife could dish out, all in the name of their unconventional lifestyle.

Lauren sat inches away from one of the best lovers she'd ever had, alternating her gaze between Zane's rugged features and the back of Corey's balding gray scalp as green road signs flew by the window. Fueled by the night's alcohol - and desire to put on a show for her husband - she had practically attacked the biker on the dance floor, getting more venereous by the minute. By the time they left, her panties were wet and she needed to be fucked. It was just a matter of where not when. And Judging from Corey's seemingly laissez-faire attitude at the honky-tonk - at least until the last thirty seconds - he wouldn't object to a little fun either. After all, wasn't that what he craved?

The view of the cosmos out the windshield was lost on Corey as he struggled to stay in his lane and keep tabs on what was happening in the backseat. A seat belt indicator on the Jetta's dash suddenly appeared, tattling on one of the passengers. Through the rearview mirror, he could see his wife and buddy were closer now, biceps and thighs touching, occasionally cracking up over something one of them said. But for the most part, both sat still, looking out the window at nothing in particular. Internalizing the situation, Corey fumbled with the radio dial, searching for more classic rock. Landing on an old power ballad from way back, he began tapping his fingers on the wheel, hoping to calm his nerves. That almost worked too. Until Lauren had other ideas.

"C'mon baby, put something on we can groove to," she purred, placing her chin on the driver's headrest.

"This is a car, not a dance club," Corey replied, clearly in no mood for hip-hop.

"Pleeeze?"

"No."

"Okay, fuck it then, I'll change it myself!"

Unexpectedly - and with much-impaired difficulty - Lauren began to climb between the front seats and over the middle console to get at the radio controls. The movement caused Corey to momentarily swerve.

"Jesus, what are you doing?"

"Change it!"

"Sit down!"

"Chainzzzzz zit!"

With one eye on the road, Corey used his right hand to get around her flailing arms and push away. When he did, she fell back, giggling.

"Mmm, hello there, lover."

Peering into the rearview mirror, Corey saw his wife had landed directly on Zane's lap.

“Pushing me into your friend’s arms again, I see,” she cracked up, but was the only one laughing.

Hugging the biker's neck tightly, she briefly stuck out a sassy tongue at her husband, then turned and found the big man's mouth. For the next few minutes, they made out, Zane periodically opening one eye to make sure nothing lethal was coming his way from the front seat. The back got eerily quiet as the kissing continued, growing deeper and more passionate, the music drowning out the increasingly heavy breathing.

In the effort to divide his attention between the road and activity in the back, Corey nearly missed an exit. He managed to veer at the last second, almost hitting a jersey barrier, but was able to bring the car under control. After navigating several flyovers, he finally looked back into the mirror and clenched his jaw. Unfazed by the near-accident, Lauren and Zane had abandoned any decorum and were now sucking face. Still on his lap, she had her arms around that thick neck, pulling an eager mouth down to hers. It was a long, warm, passionate kiss, the kind that doesn't seem like it's going to end. Corey watched with mixed emotions, envying the electricity in their embrace. While it was beyond erotic to watch his wife make out, it was the first time seeing it in person with someone so close to the family. This was his best friend, for God's sake! As such, his heart began to pound as things heated up, their bodies more animated, lips mashed together, as they appeared to be seeking some pleasure not yet attainable. To say the least, it became increasingly difficult to stay on the road.

Lauren was acutely aware of Corey's front-seat voyeurism, sneaking peeks when traffic allowed. With each passing mile, she upped the knavery, kissing the biker's ears, neck, and shoulders. Zane responded by tugging at the bottom of the sweater and snaking a hand beneath, eventually finding her soft breasts which fit so nicely in his calloused mitt. Low, soft cries could be heard up front over the latest soft rock tune, once again drawing the captivated driver's attention to the rearview. His wife had now moved to kneel alongside Picardo's beefy body, one hand on a broad shoulder, the other foraging for something below, just out of the mirror's reach. Discretely, Corey lowered the radio's volume, hoping to eavesdrop on the husky chatter behind him. It did not disappoint.

When Lauren's hand closed over his crotch, it was Zane's turn to moan, hips arching upward to meet the friendly touch, head thrown back against the seat.

"Yesssss."

"You like that?" Lauren whispered, not really caring whether Corey heard.

Sweater raised to give Picardo better access, her tits sat beneath the roll, hanging loosely. Breathing heavily now, his hands worked her tits while she caressed his cock, wheedling a growing tent in the tan khakis. Corey barely heard the fly unzip as Zane sighed nervously.

Are we really going to do this?

"Wait," he heard the biker protest, and not all that convincingly. "What about him?"

"He can take care of himself," she sniggered disrespectfully, "he always does."

The inference was clear, and not too far off the mark. Since leaving the bar, Corey's own arousal had been growing significantly, to the point his entire six inches was now straining against ever-dampening trousers. One hand on the wheel, he used his other to reach down and adjust his overstimulated appendage, thumbing the nearly stiff shaft as drops of clear fluid continued to create a sticky wet spot in his briefs. Changing lanes to avoid a stalled truck on the shoulder, his attention was diverted for a few seconds, and when he glanced in the mirror next, he saw only Zane staring back at him, a silly look on his face. That changed, however, when Corey saw his friend's eyes roll back and his mouth fall open.

"Fuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkk..."

Annoyingly, the mirror only adjusted so far, yet within its limited field of vision, the back of Lauren's head could be seen bobbing up and down, a plume of black hair visible on every upstroke. There was no doubt what his wife was doing now.

"Mmmmm," Lauren groaned, happy to have Zane's long, skinny, and crooked penis in her mouth again.

Lowering voracious red lips around the sizable member, she cupped his balls while attacking the circumcised glans with her tongue, swirling it around the head before coming up for air. When she did, long strands of spittle and precum could be seen pouring from her mouth. In a bit of bittersweet poetic irony, her glazed chin also stood in stark contrast to that of the picture suspended beneath the mirror, one of yesteryear’s faithful and devoted scout leader smiling for a selfie with her husband.

"How miiiiith cockthuckin' approooofal rating now?"

"Definitely top-shelf, baby,” Zane managed between moans.

Corey continued to rub his own erection as he took the exit to the boulevard that led to their subdivision.

Baby...now he's calling her baby.

The sheer volume of traffic and construction on the main drag required additional concentration, so for the next few miles, Corey had to endure the distinct sounds of his wife giving a world-class blowjob without any visuals. There were several major intersections on the way too, causing the occasional need to stop. Knowing what was going down behind him - literally - was unnerving on several levels, the least being that anyone who happened to look over would instantly know what was going on. At one light especially, he waved nervously to a cop in a tall SUV who happened to pull up alongside them just as the light was changing to green.

Thank you, Jesus.

Able to relax - but only a bit - as they turned into their quiet neighborhood, Corey went back to the mirror. There he found Zane returning the stare, delirious and wild-eyed. Connecting in some odd, perverse way, they both acknowledged the situation for what it was. A cuck, a slut wife, and her bull.

This is incredible, dude, the mechanic's eyes seemed to say, your wife gives great head.

Enjoy it, my friend. Give it to her. Flood the bitch's mouth. She deserves it.

Zane's mouth curled up in a grimace as the car neared the Miller house. A definite sign of a man about to cum.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

Lauren kept bobbing like a lone oil rig in the heart of Texas, noisy, heavy breaths being exhaled through her nose until she struck gold. Soon, Zane was clawing at the back of her head.

"I'm there, I'm there, Laur, I'm gonna cum!"

Pulling into the driveway, the conscientious chauffeur took it slow over the curb, lest send his buddy to the hospital to explain an embarrassing accident. Rolling to a stop, rapidly repeating grunts began coming from the backseat, signaling a build-up to the biker's finale. Groping himself, Corey considered whipping out his own dick to finish right there in front of his house. Alas, it was too late. With little warning, Zane roared loudly, one hand gripping the driver's headrest, shaking the seat violently, and bashing the back of his friend's head.

“Holy…Motherfucker…of…God!”

Then, there was nothing. Nothing but the soft sounds of the radio playing in the background.

Blinking, Picardo's eyes softened, basking in his post-nut glory.

Thanks, man, his gaze seemed to convey, she's awesome.

Corey peered back at him with immense understanding, his own cock hard with unrequited love, hopeful that he could find some relief in his wife's arms that night. Moments later, Lauren's head popped up as she swallowed and smacked her lips, glancing around. She knew she'd just put on one hell of a performance.

"Home already, are we?"

+++++

Across the street, Mrs. Nunnery was letting the dog out for the final time when she noticed the Miller's white Volkswagen glide carefully into the driveway and stop. She thought it odd to see Corey up front by himself when there was clearly the silhouette of another person in the back. As she peeped at her neighbors, Ruth was taken aback when a second figure popped up in the rear. Moments later, Lauren stepped out the right side, stretching and wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

Hmm, the nosy old lady shrugged. Poor thing must've been asleep.

+++++

"Babe, can you get us some drinks?"

Corey raised an eyebrow at the unsound request. There they were in the foyer, it was nearly one in the morning, and she was already having trouble standing up. He glanced at Zane looking for support, but the biker just nodded. "I'll take one too, buddy."

With reluctance, the older man meandered toward the kitchen. When he was out of earshot, Lauren turned to Zane and kissed him, his expression turning sour upon tasting his own semen.

"Whoa. slow down there. One drink and I'm out of here."

"Not a chance, stud."

"Really? What about him?"

"What about him? You want to fuck me, right?"

"More than anything."

"And help your friend, right?"

The biker looked down the hallway toward the kitchen. It was not every day that fucking a friend’s wife would be considered “helping him.” That’d take some getting used to.

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "I guess."

"Then follow my lead. You know what to do."

"Tonight?"

Lauren grinned. "You got someplace else to be?"

"No."

"So, what's the problem?"

"He gets to, um, watch? Won't that freak him out?"

“Are you sure he's the one that’s gonna freak out? He just watched me blow you, silly."

Zane considered that. This much was true.

"And I'm supposed to, you know, be an asshole to him?"

Lauren put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. "We discussed this at dinner. His kink has been leaning toward humiliation. So…humiliate him. Be the alpha that you are. I want to push him hard, see what he can take.”

"I get that, I just don't want to hurt him, Laur."

"I know."

Ahem.

The pair turned to see their person of interest standing behind them with a vodka cranberry for Lauren and a bottle of whiskey, which Zane promptly snatched and uncorked.

"Righteous, bro,” he said condescendingly, taking a swig.

"Thanks, babe. Can you turn on some music?"

Navigating around the moving boxes strewn across the floor, she led Zane to the living room, sipping the cold drink and swaying slowly to the jazz music that began wafting from ceiling speakers.

Knowing that hip-hop was more her speed, Corey ham-fisted the music app on his phone, looking for the genre. "Sorry, I'll change it."

"No, this is fine," Lauren cooed, her fingers dancing across Zane's chest. "And so is this." She pulled his mouth to hers and he returned the kiss enthusiastically. “Mighty fine.”

The absence of hesitation on his friend’s part was not lost on Corey, nor was the audacity of him slapping her ass hard, palms popping the leather skirt. Zane’s attitude had clearly changed, from one of empathy to one of ascendancy, and it wasn’t necessarily becoming. Picardo's arrogant smile as he pawed Lauren’s body only served to highlight the odd shift.

"Dude, you're wife has the best fucking ass. You ever get all up in this?”

Hands roamed up and down her tight sweater as they continued to kiss, Zane bending her over backward until the wasted couple nearly fell. Only Corey's quick reaction saved them, catching Lauren before she tumbled to the floor.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she bubbled softly, keeping one arm around the mechanic's neck while hooking the other around her husband's. A mischievous twinkle lit lustful eyes. "In fact, no good deed goes undone. That’s what I always say."

Both men were pleasantly stunned when Lauren sank to her haunches, supported by those skinny high heels, licking her lips. Turning to Corey first, she unzipped his trousers and pulled through the wrinkled knob which had begun to go limp, a blue ball remnant from watching another man cum earlier, but not enjoying the same fate. Slurping it into her mouth, she blindly searched for, and found, Zane's fly. After some floundering, the markedly bigger cock flopped out, bouncing like a diving board, ready for another go.

Corey felt the lump in his throat return, belly filling with butterflies. That Zane was more endowed than he was no surprise. They'd showered at the gym together...been camping numerous times. No, it wasn't the size, it was the fact that his wife had once again taken the good friend's elongated penis in her hand like it was no big deal.

But it was Corey's cock whom her tongue was ministering now, pleasuring him with glossy reds as she made that all-important eye contact, occasionally pulling off, only to plunge her lips around the entire length again. That exact moment - her going down on him while jacking off his best friend - may have been the most erotic thing he'd experienced in a very long time. And after watching Lauren flirt with the guy for the last two hours - then blow him - it was no wonder the project manager was approaching the edge of no return. Unfortunately for Corey, she heard the foreboding grunts above her way too soon, and felt his dick spike, dumping a dribble of precum inside her cheeks.

"Nuh uh," the crouching dark-haired trollop objected, immediately letting the unexceptional fleshy stalk plop out of her mouth, slapping it with the back of her hand. "Not yet."

Turning a deliberately haughty back on her unsatiated husband, Lauren began to focus on the larger man to her left, swallowing his renewed erection with vigor.

"Hmm, from economy to first class. Nice."

At first, Zane looked upon his old pal sympathetically as Corey stood there quite befuddled and wistful, not quite sure what to do with his now abandoned penis. As lust set in, the biker's demeanor changed from one of mostly pity to one of dominance, and he began to sneer at the forlorn spouse while spearing her face.

"Damn, dude...fuck. Soooo good."

Corey looked over at his dearest pal and lifelong fishing buddy, who hadn't said two words to him since leaving the bar. He was beginning to sound more like Tony and the others. And it turned him on.

"I'm sorry, man, but she...she sure can suck a mean dick."

Tearing up, Corey stepped back, watching her lick, stroke, and deep throat the larger cock. Several times, he desperately tried to tap in, but Lauren waved him off with disinterest, gurgling, and gargling. Finally, clearly irritated, she pulled off Zane's glistening cock, and looked over her shoulder. Choking back copious amounts of spittle that had been pouring from the corners of her mouth, she spit out the excess with ire.

"Enough! Sit down, for God's sake!”

The rejection stung and stung deeply. Corey nodded with a sickly, resigned expression and plopped down in a recliner. Blue balled for the second time in as many hours, he fingered his dick listlessly, trying to stay hard, knowing the night was not yet over and there was still hope. And clearly, his wife and pal were just getting started.

With gentle fingers dancing along the biker's hooked member, Lauren licked the sticky glans where his precum and her saliva mixed into a wondrous concoction, naturally lubricating the shaft for deep dives to those big and heavy balls. As the grip on the back of her head tightened, she descended the entire length, the tip gliding along the roof of her mouth until her chin touched his nutsack.

Hold, back off, repeat.

Zane moaned softly, looking up at the ceiling, then down at Corey, smiling like he'd just taken that first bite of prime rib at a fine steakhouse.

"Doooo-ed."

The reflex to gag was overwhelming, especially when the head filled Lauren's throat, blocking most of the air. But she soldiered on, eyes watering as much as her husband's but for very different reasons. When stretched mouth became too parched, Lauren concentrated on licking the underbelly of the long cock, from the base to the tip, then back again, using one hand to steady and the other to maintain a smooth, rhythmic pumping.

Zane's expression alternated from a snarl to an O face and back again.

"You like that dick, don't you, slut? Had to come back for more, didn't cha?"

Bloodshot eyes rolled back in his head upon the next deep dive.

"OHHHH FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Lauren glugged and trilled, the resulting vibrations causing his seminal fluids to become thicker with heavier consistency. She knew he was close again.

"Looks like she's been hungry, my man. What's the matter, Cors, you not taking care of business anymore? "

With the maniacal laugh that all Miller women had, Lauren threw her head back, the large and ready-to-discharge dick slapping her on one cheek. Opaque droplets flew through the air, as she wiped them away and stood up.

"He can't fuck me the way you can, baby. Never could."

"Is that right buddy? That undersized motor got too many miles on it now?"

It was an obvious volley to test the waters. When there was no reaction, Zane took it up a notch, stepping behind Lauren, looping one arm around her waist, the other around her neck.

"You know I'm going to fuck her, right? Somebody's got to do it."

The lovers paused, looking directly into Corey's misty glare, waiting. Waiting for anything. He simply nodded, then lowered his gaze, both hands moving between his legs where a scrawny semi was twitching itself back to full mast.

"Hey pal," Zane snapped his fingers. "Up here."

Corey lifted his eyes to see Picardo's calloused hands rubbing Lauren's ribbed turtleneck. Shoulders, arms, belly. She leaned back, writhing with pleasure under the mechanic's rough touch, eyes closed...groaning. Groping her small tits beneath the sweater, Zane traced the outline of those perfect globes, teasing out those toothy nipples like a lab technician trying to find a vein.

Kissing her neck from behind, the biker sucked hard, surely leaving a mark. With a pop, he tore his lips from her skin.

"I never did thank you for bringing us together, Cors."

Intertwining his left hand with Lauren's, he held up her wedding ring.

"I've dreamt about being with her since I handed you this."

“A symbol of our undying love, right babe?” Smirking, she ground her ass into Zane's crotch, sighing heavily.

Releasing her hand, he dropped to the bottom of her sweater and began raising it, exposing firm abs, while the other hand caressed a taut tummy.

"Didn't know that I wanted to fuck her so bad, did ya? Oh hell yeah. All those parties, all those softball games…Christ, those tight uniform pants! She was your girl, but my fantasy."

Inching the sweater up, both lovers stared intensely at Corey, who was slowly beginning to stroke his own neglected meat.

"Dreamt about touching her skin."

Zane rolled the turtleneck over Lauren's little breasts and groped them hard. She gasped loudly.

"Sucking her nips."

Lauren began to purr.

The biker could see the troubled emotions on his friend’s face and decided to give him an out.

"Got anything to say...friend?"

But Corey was also visibly aroused and very much so. He knew the safe word but didn’t use it.

“No.”

"Good," Zane barked, “not that it would matter.”

With a sharp shove, he released Lauren, pushing her towards her husband.

"Now then. Strip your whore wife for me."

Lauren said nothing, just grinned and turned, facing Zane, back to Corey, awaiting the disrobing. Wobbling to his feet, dick flapping between his thighs, the graying wittol swallowed hard. With two hands, he gripped the sweater and pulled it over her head, casting it to the floor.

"That's more like it," Picardo smiled at her tiny bouncing breasts. "Mm-mmm. Did Lauren ever tell you I actually hit on her once? Yeah, back when she was coaching. Out of town tourney. Cedar Rapids, I think."

Corey looked over his wife's shoulder at the mountain of a man who was slipping off his pants, the abundant package swinging between his legs.

"Yeah, she told me."

“Oh yeah, what do you think about that?”

Lauren giggled. “He jacked off.”

“Hah! Good one. I would’ve used her mouth to get me off instead of my hand, but hey, that’s just me. Anyway, I would've fucked her too, man. Slammed this piece until the whole hotel complained. Know why I didn't?"

Zane smiled, looking between the two as his friend shook his head.

"Cuz she wouldn't let me. Nope, totally shut me down. She was a good girl then, Cors, a real winner, the perfect wife. And now you've turned her into a grade-A slut.”

The smile on his face faded.

“Are you proud of yourself, you sick, twisted fuck? She's nothing more than a cum dump now, a toy for guys like me to use."

That got a giggle from Lauren as Corey stood behind her trembling, the mist in his eyes welling.

"Now her skirt. I'm going to fuck that 'til the whole goddamn block wakes up."

Eyes closed, Corey did as his friend asked. With two hands, he undid the tiny clasp at the waist, then lowered the zipper until it got to the stop.

"Thanks, hon," Lauren whispered, stepping out of the leather.

"And the panties," Zane commanded.

Slowly, Corey sat back down in the easy chair, pulling the silk underwear down to her ankles as he went. The aroma of her arousal hit his nostrils hard, causing them to flare.

"Come 'ere, bitch!" the biker shouted.

Naked except for heels, Lauren strolled leisurely over to her date, deliberately bouncing her firm ass so it rocked, made paler by the surrounding tanned back and legs. Knowing her husband could not see, she winked while approaching Zane. He was playing the part quite nicely. With a quick grab of her black mane, he stayed in character, whirling the lithe body into his arms once again.

“You want me to fuck her, don’t you? Oh, I know you do. Answer me, do…you…want…me…to…fuck…YOUR WHORE WIFE?”

Corey inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, then nodded.

“I thought so.”

With Lauren's neck in the crook of one arm, the bulging mechanic walked his free hand between her legs, spreading the moist slit until her butterfly was completely exposed, bright pink lips peeking out.

While she squirmed with pleasure, he rubbed his index, middle, and ring fingers against her swelling labia, the wetness coating each digit. A small gasp escaped her when the first one penetrated her yearning hole. As the second followed, the gasp turned into whimpers, her gaze locked defiantly on her husband. Bending slightly to allow better access, Zane wiggled in a third, sliding all three deeper.

His thumb eventually found her swollen button and began to massage it. The more he fingered her, the more she writhed, eyes glazing over, a sure sign she was slipping completely under the biker’s control.

"Oh, God!" Lauren cried out as the first bolt of lightning shot through her seething body.

Seeing his wife’s raw rapture, Corey sought to feel his own, a hand creeping back around his crinkled member.

Fap, fap, fap.

Fingers flying now, Zane’s hand probed further, widening the gap between her pussy lips, allowing for greater egress of vaginal fluids as it reacted to the blistering incursion. What began as trickles had become rivulets of clear juices running down the insides of her legs, glistening in the lamplight.

“C’mon, give it up, bitch. Cum for me!”

For Lauren, the bliss was almost unbearable, causing her to twist and squeal, legs scuffling and rising from the floor as Zane held her in place.

“Ahaaaaaaaaaaaa YES YESSSSSSS!”

Moaning more himself, Corey’s gingerly strokes became faster, more urgent.

“That’s it, man,” Zane coaxed, “pull that fucking pud of yours! Let’s see who’s gonna fuck your wife tonight, shall we? May the best man win!”

Lauren screamed, lifting both feet off the carpet at once. As she came down, Zane’s arms were the only thing keeping her from falling. Thrashing about, globs of secretions were flung near and far, landing conspicuously on various pieces of furniture.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop! Gunna…gunna…”

Eyes snapping open, Lauren joined Zane in watching her husband furiously masturbate, like some kind of profane spectator event. Laying in his recliner, hands busy, he stared back at them, determined to cum one way or another.

“Jack it, cucky, jack it for us. Show your buddy how you get off now.”

Corey grunted, barely able to talk, eyes fixated on Lauren’s nakedness, pussy juices puddling in the carpet below her.

Fap, fap, fap.

“OH GOD MAKE ME CUM MOTHERFUCKER!” her carnal howls echoed through the house.

With lubed ease, Zane slipped the rest of his hand up her gasping cunt, shoving it passed the knuckles, thumb working like a piston against her clit.

“OH NO, OH NO, ohhhhhhhhhhh yesssssss!”

Legs spread wide now, Lauren was nearing the well-deserved climax she’d been earning all night. Slipping a hand behind Zane’s head, she pulled his face to hers. Open lips accepting seeking tongues, Corey looked on as they kissed as only passionate lovers can.

Fap, fap, fap.

Timing it just right. Zane closed his fist and shoved it into her sopping hole even deeper, the sounds of sloppy juices filling the room.

"OH, MY FUCKING GOD!"

Lauren exploded with the force of a thousand novas, piercing the air with high-pitched shrills, squirming and curling as Zane tried mightily to contain her. With a deep, groan, her body suddenly went limp, collapsing against his chest, where she decompressed, panting heavily.

+++++

Fap, fap, fap.

Corey continued his self-pleasuring while Lauren recovered, eventually looking over to see her husband struggling mightily to cum.

"You want him to fuck me, don't you, babe? You want to see your best friend pound me with his much bigger cock, don’t you?"

Corey's eyes focused on his naked wife, fluids running down her legs. Her words were helpful.

"Yes," he hissed.

Without needing further encouragement, Zane pounced, grabbing Lauren's wrists and pulling her forearms behind her. With one hand pinning them to the small of her back, the other grabbed a fist full of raven hair and pushed the brunette forward, guiding her until she stood in front of her husband, naked and nasty.

"Grab 'em" he snarled, pushing her down to the recliner's padded arms.

Face to face now, the long-married couple stared at each other, perspiration pouring off their faces.

Fap, fap, fap.

Lauren laughed, blowing sweaty bangs from her eyes. "He's going to fuck me, Twisty. Zane’s going to fuck me silly. Right here. Right now. And you can’t do shit about it.”

Fap, fap, fap.

"HOLYEEEE SHIIIIIIT!" she exclaimed as Zane yanked hard on her hair, snapping an already sore neck back, slamming his hard, long, warped cock into her steaming slit as far as it would go. For a brief instant, Corey didn't exist to the two coupled lovers. Nothing did except for pure bliss and passion. The younger man withdrew, then speared her again, and again, and again.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck...oh fuck. That's it, that's it! DO ME...DO ME!"

With one hand on his dick, Corey reached out and slapped one of his wife's tits as she squeezed the stuffing out of the chair. Lauren squealed with delight.

“That’s it, that’s it,” she snarled. “Treat me like the whore I am!”

Zane grabbed her hips and ramped up the pace.

"Watch him, babe, watch him fuck your pretty little wife. All those wasted years, those long nights with YOU when I should have been fucking HIM!”

Corey cried out in twisted euphoria as that devastating dagger struck his heart. From there it traveled to his burning crotch, fueling the stew of emotions that was driving the assault on his dick.

"Laur, oh no...you don’t mean that!"

"Don’t I? Do...it...Zane," Lauren begged between long, deep thrusts, “show my button-down hubby how a real man fucks his woman."

"Such...a...hot...twat," Zane muttered, “MY twat now! You don’t want it anymore.”

He nearly blurted out that it wasn’t quite as tight as their daughters, but close.

"How are you not hitting this EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, dude?" he panted, not missing a beat as he hammered the elder Miller’s bald pussy. "That’s fucking pathetic. If you won't, believe me, I will."

"Every night, every night, every night," Lauren taunted her husband.

"Right there, oh...oh...oh...right there! Gonna cum again!" she brayed.

In that moment, Corey no longer saw the woman in front of him as his wife. She was simply a whore, a rabid slut with hair drenched in sweat and spittle flowing uncontrollably from a mouth that had just sucked two dicks.

"OH GOD!" he bellowed, his small balls suddenly contracting.

"Shoo...shoo...shoot it, Twisty, shoot your load. Cum in your hand while your best friend cums in my pussy! That’s how it’s gonna be from now on!"

That did it.

“FUCK YOU, YOU GODDAMN TRAMP!”

With eyes locked on his oldest pal who was busy pummeling his whore-wife’s snatch with earnest, Corey grimaced and roared, his pudgy frame shuddering violently in the Lazy Boy as he came, sending a weak, but voluminous stream of semen onto Lauren's face.

"Shhhhhhhhittttttttt..." Zane cried out, the scene in front of him too incredibly hot to last much longer.

Using Lauren’s long hair, he yanked the brunette to her feet, flinging her onto the nearby sofa as she simply laughed dementedly.

"Take it, take my pussy. HURT ME, HIT ME, FUCK ME! EVERYBODY ELSE DOES!”

Smack.

The first backhand landed squarely on one cheek, splattering Corey's fresh jizz on the cushions.

Smack, smack.

"DO IT, DO IT, DO IT. Be the man my husband can't anymore!"

Zane grabbed her throat and squeezed while he spread her legs wide.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, SLUT!"

More maniacal laughing. It was all fun and games until the mechanic's massive cock slammed full force into her sopping cunt, sending juices everywhere.

"Owwwwwww, GAHD-DAMMMM, SHHHITTTT!"

Faster and deeper, Zane brutally rammed his steel into the beautiful executive's hot pussy as her husband looked on with spent dick.

"Choke me, baby, make me feel it! GAAAHHHHHH!"

Unmerciful now, Zane tightened his hand around her throat and continued the assault, feeling his own climax building. Using his free hand, he slapped both tiny titties, repeatedly, until they began to redden.

"OWWWWWW!"

"My dick’s in your girl, Coreeeee,” the biker shouted over his shoulder. “In your wife’s cunt....Coreeeee!"

Lauren's eyes began to distend as his grip grew tighter. She wanted to be his cum dump, his whore, his slut!

"Yeth, yeth, take it, take my puth-eee! All yuths baby!"

"Sweet fucking Jesus! I'm gonna cum!”

Zane pulled out and straddled her hips.

“Where?” he gasped, fingers pumping his own cock, seconds away.

“His ring,” Lauren sneered back, lifting her left hand, “cum on the ring!”

With a booming voice resounding off the walls, the biker obliged, unloading wave after wave of hot spunk onto her hand, coating bony knuckles until it dripped between wiggling fingers. While most of it found its way onto her belly, enough of the thick white ejaculate stuck to the shiny gold band and sparkling diamond inset to serve the purpose.

“Maybe you should’ve just kept this in your pocket, love,” Lauren professed, referring to Zane’s role in their wedding.

Holding the ring high, she waved it at her husband who was busy cleaning up his own mess.

“See, babe,” the loving wife snickered, “the best man did win!”

+++++

After basking in the afterglow, the unconventional threesome rose, using various pieces of clothing to wipe up residual fluids.

"How was that?" Zane whispered when Corey went to the kitchen for paper towels.

Nodding after her husband, who was soiled with his own cum, she smiled broadly.

“From the looks of things, I'd say pretty good."

"Then my work here is done then," Zane teased.

"Like hell it is," Lauren shook her head, pulling him towards the staircase. "Follow me."

As they climbed to the second floor, she called out down the steps.

“Hey babe, be a dear and bring us up a few drinks, okay?"

+++++

Minutes later, Corey walked out of the kitchen, drink tray in hand: another vodka cranberry for Lauren, and one Old Fashion each for him and Zane.

Killing the whole-house music, Corey navigated through the lower level, turning off the lights one by one. He was a bit jollier now, encouraged by Lauren’s invitation upstairs.

Bring us up a few drinks, she had said, not just for me and Zane..

If that threesome in Miami with Max the bar owner meant anything, there was still a glimmer of hope of being with Lauren that night, although the thought of Zane being there would take getting used to.

Corey climbed the stairs to the second level slowly, struggling to keep the tray level. At the top, to the right, were Caroline and Amelia's old bedrooms. Turning left, Corey pattered down the corridor until he got to the master, quite proud for not spilling a drop. Finding the door closed, he shook his head.

Could’ve at least propped it open for me.

With great care, he bent slightly and reached out to turn the handle.

Click.

“What?” he wondered out loud. They hadn’t locked the door in years. Didn't even recall where the key was.

“Lauren?”

A few of her giggles were discernable through the paneled wood.

“Zane?”

Nothing.

“C’mon, guys, I have the drinks.”

Still nothing.

“Ain’t funny. Open the fucking door.”

Had there not been an open house scheduled for the following weekend, Corey might have considered popping the handle. But he didn’t.

What was that?

Pressing an ear to the door, he listened intently. Music. Soft music. Lover’s music. Oddly familiar.

“Dance with me,” he heard Lauren ask Zane.

The more he listened, the more memories came flooding back. It was that song! Yes, of course it was. The first tune they had danced to in their hotel room on their wedding night. Slow, tender, passionate. It was a time when the world seemed to stop around them.

And now she was sharing their song with him. With his best friend. His best man.

And soon...they would be sharing his bed.

[Johng1953]

I wonder if Corey actually has any limits?

[mundyman]

Another sterling chapter. I can’t wait to see what happens when Lauren reconnects with her buddies in Miami. This time with her faithful cuck at her side.