Ascending Lauren Ch. 32

This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more.

Warning: subject matter includes cuckoldress/cuckold humiliation/hetroflexible/eclectic sex. This story is tagged as such, so if you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.

Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Anything depicted has no relation to past or current people and events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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Sunday, June 16th

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ladies?"

There was a sound, but it was impossible to tell where it came from. Cocking his neck to one side, Corey listened intently. Were those... giggles? Head still tilted, he followed it to the foyer and looked up the staircase leading to the second floor where the bedrooms were. On the upper landing, he caught a flash of one of the girls, followed by more soft laughter.

"What the...?"

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

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

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

More giggles. "Come see, Daddy!"

The closer he drew, the more noises he heard. Irregular sounds, like someone gasping for air. But there was also a steady rhythmic thumping. Standing in front of Caroline now, he followed her long pajama-covered arm to what she was pointing at inside the bedroom. Corey's eyes widened and his heart sank as he saw his wife of decades on their marital bed, legs wrapped around a faceless man. Both were naked and grinding, twisting in the throes of passion. The thumping sound grew louder. Thunderous.

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

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

Thump, thump, thump.

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

Pauly Hamilton.

No, wait... Tommy.

Then Zane.

And finally...

Alex.

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

"A new daddy now...

"A new daddy now...

"A new daddy..."

+++++

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

Thank fuck. It was just a goddamn dream.

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

Thump, thump, thump.

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

Thump, thump, thump.

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

Shit.

Corey uttered a pathetic whimper, rubbing his throbbing temples.

Thump, thump, thump.

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

Thump, thump, thump.

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

Jesus, Mother Mary and Joseph.

The thuds were an unabated drumbeat of raw sex, yet surprisingly missing the dirty, slutty mouth Lauren had honed with her newfound freedom. No 'fuck me raw.' No 'own my pussy.' No barking orders like a bitch in heat. Just endless, pulsing moans, rising and falling in pitch, dripping with a passion that made his gut twist. As he stroked his useless dick, a tear oozed from one eye, his stomach churning with a sick, hollow ache.

They aren't fucking. They're making love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

Boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

That the holes weren't too deep.

+++++

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

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

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

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

Alex.

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

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

But very, arousing.

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

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

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

Saturday, June 29th

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I believe that's if you build it, he will come."

"Same difference."

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

"Mind if I grab another?" Corey asked, pointing at his empty beer bottle.

"Me casa, you casa, bro."

"I think you mean mi casa es su casa."

"What the fuck dude, you gonna do that all night? You went to college, I get it."

Corey stood and walked to the townhome's fridge, grinning at his friend's butchery of the Spanish language. In reality, it wasn't either of their homes. Zane had been living at Amy's for over a month now. He'd been at the right place at the right time in the blonde legal secretary's life. Nearly thirty years older than she, the drifting biker had swept her off her feet. She'd allowed him to stay rather than see him on the streets. Physical attraction had grown into much more, and now their deepening romance was plain to everyone.

With one hand opening the refrigerator door, Corey reached in for his what? Six or seventh beer? Didn't matter. Zane watched with amusement as his friend shuffled back to the couch a bit unsteadily.

"Good thing you're spending the night."

"Fuck yeah it is. What do you think the girls are doing?"

Across town, Lauren and Amy were meeting with Chloe at the Taffy Snapper for a well-deserved girls' night out.

Zane snapped his tongue, mimicking a chicken. "Nothing but a hen cluck there."

Corey scowled a bit and twisted the cap off the bottle. He wasn't so sure. Amy had been promiscuous long before meeting Lauren, and Chloe was a sex worker. Not exactly three old biddies out for a game of bingo.

On the widescreen, another Yankee took the Marlins' pitching ace yard, driving in two more runs. Zane groaned and switched off the TV. He pulled a tray with loose rolling papers from a drawer in the coffee table. Then he put his feet up and leaned back.

"Fuck it, let's get high."

+++++

The dimly lit Taffy Snapper was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The three diminutive women sat in a small booth, sipping their drinks and laughing together. Upbeat music poured from the ceiling, and as usual, the crowd was a lively mix of young professionals and partygoers. Most were dressed for a Saturday night out and the friends were no different.

Amy wore a fitted white tank top that highlighted her toned arms, paired with high-waisted black jeans that hugged her hips. Blonde hair, swept into a sleek ponytail, framed her twenty-six-year-old face, accentuating her blue eyes. Large hoop earrings swayed, catching the bar's unnatural light with every sparkle.

True to form, Chloe wore a black leather jacket with silver studs, paired with a gray Sex Pistols tee and pair of black leather pants. Her crimson hair was styled in loose waves, and makeup the kind you'd expect for a girl that made her living on her back and taking off her clothes.

Lauren was the most conservatively dressed of the three that evening. In a simple gray ribbed sweater dress and knee-high black boots, she looked edgy yet professional, though the stretchy material clung to every inch of her body. Her jet-black hair, expertly dyed at age forty-eight by a talented stylist she had found downtown, flowed freely around her shoulders to the small of her back.

To put it mildly, the girls were the type of eye candy men appreciated in any bar. Especially single men like Ryder Rawlings. Sitting on a bar stool, the thirty-six-year-old had been sipping his whiskey, evaluating his options, when several outbursts of laughter drew his gaze. It landed on a trio of women seemingly having the time of their lives. One was distinctly older than the other two.  Their mother perhaps? Unlikely, unless they dyed their hair differently. Another clue dispelled that as well. All were gushing and animated, a hallmark of girlfriends, not family. The mature one impressed him most. He guessed early forties, fashionably dressed and understated, with long, straight black hair and small breasts that the tight dress seemed to love. Even in the dim light, he could see those puffy nipples.

Noting which waitress had their table, he motioned as she passed by, sending a round of whatever the women were drinking. Rawlings found the archaic pickup tactic worked enough to employ it from time to time. Once in a blue moon. Ten minutes later, the drinks were delivered, and the women turned their heads, smiling. With his best James Bond charm, he toasted them.

After the three put their heads together with another giggle, he was pleased to see them break and lean back, with the blonde waving him over.

Once in a blue moon was all he needed.

+++++

The two friends, mechanic and project manager, sat in silence, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling. Without warning, Corey let out a loud belch.

"Sorry, man, it's the beer."

Zane clapped him on the back. "No worries. I'm just glad you're enjoying yourself."

The slightly older man took another hit and handed the nearly played joint back.

"Speaking of enjoying yourself, how are you and Amy getting on?"

It was Zane's turn to smile. "She's amazing. Smart and professional..."

"Young," Corey finished for him.

"Not going to lie, she's a sex machine."

"Be careful, friend, that ticker's not what it used to be."

"I could say the same 'bout you."

Zane regretted the moment those words came out.

"I mean..."

An awkward pause settled over the men. A look of lament crossed Corey's face as he shook his head.

"I'm useless to her now in that department."

Zane scrunched his nose. Fuck. When would his dense mind think before he spoke? He knew his buddy's fetish was strong and the associated emotions crushing. That's why he avoided bringing up his encounters with Lauren and Caroline.

"Look, man, I'm sure..."

"YOU were able to please her. And quite well, if memory serves. I mean, I try. Sometimes I'm really horny and think 'tonight's the night,' but then I just deflate or prejac. Even jerking off, I only get a semi that wouldn't pierce a wet paper towel."

"Uh..." Zane stared at the wisps of smoke rising from the joint's cherry, unsure how to console his pal. This is exactly why he steered clear of all this.

"Doc says no pills, right?"

"Nope. Blood pressure."

The younger man pondered this before exhaling a plume. If he was going to be a best friend, he should be asking about his mental health.

"At least you've given her an outlet. How've you been doing since your, eh... setback?"

Corey sighed. "Better. I've learned to embrace... it. Her. With others. Like you said. Sort of."

Zane side-eyed him. "What's that mean?"

The graying project manager thought about that. What did he mean?

"I dunno. It's crazy. It's something I crave now. I know how I feel about things, but sometimes I wish I didn't."

"Shame?"

"Shame that I'm enjoying something most people see as a weakness, plus the feeling of inadequacy."

"And yet many of those folks are trapped in lifeless relationships, accepting dead bedrooms as a fact of a long marriage. At least you've given Laur a choice. Some might say that takes an even bigger man."

Corey glanced over in surprised amazement. "You taking psychology classes now?"

Zane drew on his beer, swallowing with contentment. "Nope. Internet porn." He paused thoughtfully, then added, "How many men? Any regulars?"

The biker had no idea why that had popped out of his mouth. Surely, he wasn't jealous. After all, he had been with both mother and daughter. Quite a feat for any man.

"Enough. She has a boyfriend now."

"Really? How's that going?"

"Strangely. She's quite a handful."

"Yes, she is. Laur's the type of girl that needs dommed. Slapped around and..."

Zane stopped, trying to swallow his words. He really needed to stop while he was ahead. Talking about his buddy's wife like they were trading notes on some floozy they'd passed around during a drunken weekend in Vegas was not helping.

"Sorry, man. Shit, I didn't mean to... aw, crap, it's the beer."

The irony of his best friend telling him what his wife needed sexually did not escape Corey.

"Didn't mean to talk about her like she's a tramp?"

The younger man looked down and said nothing.

"But she is, isn't she?"

"Bro, I'm not one to judge."

"There's no judgment. She is. My wife is a fucking hoe."

Zane considered this. His pal wasn't wrong. Both mom and daughter had turned out to be very nasty sluts.

"So, what are you going to do about that?"

"She's given me what I need. It only makes sense for me to return the favor."

"So, in other words, do nothing?"

Corey sank deeper into the couch, lost in thought. Finally, he sighed and took a another drink.

"I don't know.

I just don't know."

+++++

The girls' inviting smiles emboldened the easy-on-the-eyes man in a light blue linen button-down as he approached their booth. Lauren scooted over, making room for him to slide in next to her. There seemed to be an instant attraction. Square jawline, dark hair short and neatly styled with a slight sheen. Piercing blue eyes and a subtle five o'clock shadow that added an approachable charm.

He felt it too. The warmth of her body and the subtle scent of perfume put his cock on notice as he settled into the seat.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Rawlings opened with a disarming grin.

Amy was the first to extend a hand and thank the man. "Not at all. We were just discussing how rare it is to find a gentleman willing to buy drinks for strangers these days. I'm Amy, and this is Lauren and Chloe."

Nodding to each in turn, his gaze lingered on Lauren a moment longer. "Ryder Rawlings, pleased to meet you all. I couldn't help but notice you were having such a good time. I thought some of that joy might rub off."

Chloe leaned forward, her curly red locks nearly in her drink. "Well, impressive foreplay, albeit a bit tired."

Ryder took a sip of his whiskey, savoring the burn. "A a bit trite, I'll give you that. But just moments ago, I was sitting alone, and now..." He spread his arms showing that he'd graduated from no friends to three.

The women had to acknowledge the strategy had worked in his favor.

"And I'm just unwinding after a long week," he continued. "Sometimes you need to surround yourself with good energy to shake off the stress, you know?"

Amy smirked, her red lips curving upward. "And here we were think you were just trying to pick up women."

The group laughed, the tension breaking as Ryder held up his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me when the company is this delightful?"

Lauren's leg accidentally brushed against his under the table, sending a jolt through them both. She smiled, a mix of coy and curious. "So, what do you do when you're not buying drinks for unsuspecting women in bars?"

Ryder leaned back, an arm resting on the back of the booth behind Lauren. "Unsuspecting? Somehow, I doubt that. Anyway, I'm in finance. It's not as exciting as it sounds, trust me. But it does allow me to indulge in little luxuries like this." He gestured to their drinks.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Finance, huh? So, you're good with numbers?"

"Among other things," Ryder winked, eliciting smug expressions from the women.

The conversation continued to flow easily after that, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the background noise of the bar. Ryder found himself drawn more and more to Lauren, her wit and elegance standing out even among her attractive friends.

As the night wore on, all four leaned in close, as if huddling to discuss the next big play. Ryder's hand eventually found its way to the small of Lauren's back, his fingers tracing lazy circles through the soft fabric of her dress. The electricity was palpable.

"So," he nodded at her wedding ring, his voice dropping low despite the noise around them, "what's your story?"

Lauren's eyes met his, a spark of challenge in her gaze. "Who says I need a story to have a girls' night out? Maybe I just wanted some company."

"Fair enough. To good company and better conversation, then."

The pair clinked glasses as the energy between them soared. The budding vibe was not lost on Amy and Chloe, who glanced at each other surreptitiously and began gathering their things.

"Wait, where are you guys going?" Lauren asked, pausing her conversation with Ryder. "We just got here."

"We've been here almost four hours, love. It's almost midnight," Chloe muttered. That she was making up an explanation as she went was painfully obvious. "I'm... I'm working the two-to-four shift tonight."

"I thought your shifts were four hours long?"

"Well, yeah. Tonight's eh..." she looked to Amy for help.

"Special!" the secretary blurted.

The redhead nodded. "Yes, special," she giggled, pulling the blonde out of the booth.

Lauren peered suspiciously at her best friend and coworker. "And you?"

"Ah," Amy avoided eye contact, "gotta work early in the morning."

"It's Sunday."

"Right," Amy stuttered, realizing what a dumb excuse that had been. She put her hands on her hips. "Well, how do you expect me to take your job if I don't work hard, hmm?"

Leaning over, she patted Lauren's shoulder and put her mouth to her ear. "Good luck. He's hot."

With that, the younger women scurried away and disappeared into the crowd.

"And then there were two." Ryder waved down their waitress to order another round. He seemed quite pleased with how the evening was going.

Lauren simply smiled and did nothing when the handsome man slipped his arm around her shoulders. After all, he was hot.

Seconds later, she frowned as her phone lit up on the table with an incoming message.

+++++

"I'm out," Zane croaked, swilling the last drop of his beer. He motioned to the couch as he stood, almost losing his balance. "Amy's spending the night at your place since it's only a few blocks from the bars. Feel free to crash here."

"I am NOT sleeping with you," Corey quipped, downing the rest of his drink.

"Yeah, as if. There's a pillow and blanket in the hall closet. Used 'em the first night I was here, they're decent."

"Thanks, my guy." Corey gave his buddy a thumbs up and watched him stumble toward the bedroom.

After stretching out on the sofa and making himself comfortable, the aging husband pulled out his phone and sent a text to his absent wife:

Crashing at Zane and Amy's. Hope all is well. I love you.

He waited and hoped for a response, but his eyes grew heavy. Laying the phone on his chest, Corey checked it every so often until sleep overtook him.

That didn't take long.

+++++

Ryder's eyes lingered on Lauren as he sipped his drink while she read an incoming text.

"You can answer that if you want. I'm a patient man."

"It's just my husband."

The man's hand absently traced patterns on her back, his gaze drifting back to her ring. "Does your husband know you flirt with men in bars?"

Lauren's expression shifted slightly, a touch of wistfulness in her eyes.

"Is that what we're doing? Flirting?"

"Perhaps."

Lauren set the phone down on the table and thought for a moment. "I don't think so."

"Flirting?"

"No, my husband. He's... indifferent, I suppose." She paused, recalling Alex Cartwright's aversion to infidelity. "Does that bother you?"

Ryder raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Not really. Believe me, I'm not judging." He leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Do you ever do more than flirt?"

Lauren felt a flutter in her chest but maintained her composure. "With the right person."

"Am I the right person?"

The brunette beauty locked eyes with him from behind her jet-black bangs. "You tell me."

"Your place or mine?"

"I live about two blocks from here."

"Husband?"

"Spending the night at a friend's."

A grin spread across Ryder's face as he scanned the place for the waitress.

"Check, please."

+++++

The smirk on the doorman's face nearly matched that of the dashing suitor who had his arm around the sultry brunette's waist as they walked through the lobby toward the elevators. Harvey Ottinger was used to the resident of 23F bringing strays back to her luxury apartment, and this was just another night. His cock twitched as he zeroed in on those pouty lips. After all, there was a time they had wrapped around his own shriveled cock.

Inside the lift, the doors had barely closed when Rawlings pushed her against the wall and crushed his lips to hers in a searing, bruising kiss. Lauren let out a muffled gasp, her body stiffening at the sudden aggression. But then she relented, her mouth melting against his, tongues surging and tangling.

The pair spilled into the twenty-third-floor hallway, their bodies slamming against the far wall, shaking nearby sconces. Hands roamed frantically, brazenly, lips locked in passionate kisses. They tumbled down the corridor, pinballing from one side to the other, barely human, reduced to animals in heat.

Lauren broke away just long enough to fob them into her apartment, whereupon Ryder shoved her against the refrigerator. His mouth descended on her neck, teeth nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, drawing a whimper.

Breathless, with chest heaving, Rawlings' eyes were wild, blown with lust. "You filthy little slut," he growled. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight."

Lauren's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Then what are you waiting for?"

His hands yanked up the hem of her sweater dress. The absence of panties was no surprise. Hoisting her by the thighs, she instinctively placed her legs around his waist, freeing his hands to drop his trousers and kick them aside. He carried her through the pitch-black kitchen and into the hallway leading to the bedroom.

"You want this, you needy cunt," he growled. "Now take it."

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass as her exposed, swollen pussy brushed against his raging hard-on.

"Desperate slut."

Lauren's back slammed against the wall, rattling the hanging artwork. Her calves locked around his hips like a vice.

"Fuck me," she hissed, bucking her hips to impale herself on him. "Fuck me or I'll..."

Rawlings silenced the wanton wife with a brutal thrust, plunging himself into her wet tunnel in one savage stroke. Lauren's scream tore through the apartment as her walls stretched around his girth, the burn of penetration melting her brain with white-hot pleasure.

"That's how you take a cock," Ryder grunted, pistoning into her with jackhammer precision, her small tits bouncing wildly under the rucked-up dress.

Her heels dug into his ass, urging him deeper. "Harder, you bastard!"

Spit flew from her lips as he obliged, slamming her into the wall with every upward drive. The lewd slap-slap-slap echoed throughout, natural wetness running down his thighs.

"Is that how you like it?" Ryder snarled, pinning her wrists above her head. "Your entire worth just a warm hole to pump full of a man's cum?"

Lauren's head thrashed, sweat-drenched hair sticking to her face. "Y-yes! God, yes! I'm your worthless whore!"

Rawlings shoved his cock deep, gasping as he felt her warmth around him.

"Again," Lauren panted, still impaled. "Again."

Using their hips as a fulcrum, he pivoted their bodies and stumbled into the bedroom. Still coupled, they crashed onto the mattress, nearly toppling framed photographs on the nightstands, their subjects indiscernible in the low light.

"FUCK ME! OH GOD, FUCK MEEEE!"

+++++

"Do it, I need it so bad, baby."

Corey's eyes fluttered open, his neck craning off the sofa.

"That's it. Right there."

What the fuck?

Sitting up, he looked around, situational awareness creeping in as he remembered where he was.

"Yessssss."

That was a female voice. Amy's voice. Wasn't she supposed to be staying overnight at his place with Lauren?

"Come on, put it in. Don't tease, do me, Zane, baby."

Jesus H. Christ. She must have come home instead. But why?

"DO IT!"

Corey shook off the fog of sleep and realized he had a choice: either stay and listen to his best friend pound his wife's friend, which would undoubtedly bring back memories of Zane with Lauren, or simply go home. He'd had a good hour's nap; surely he was sober enough to drive now.

A long moan from the bedroom told him Amy had just been penetrated.

Clearly, going home where he could sleep in peace and quiet was the best of his options.

Right?

+++++

Ryder's fingers clawed at the neckline of Lauren's sweater dress, the fabric snagging in her tangled dark mane as he tried to rip it off.

"Fuckin' hair," he snarled, yanking harder, her scalp stinging as strands tore free. She laughed breathlessly, arching her back to help, her small, braless tits straining against the tight knit.

"Rip it, you pussy," she goaded, met with a growl as Ryder finally lifted the dress over her head, leaving red marks on her cheeks.

Her naked body writhed beneath him, nipples hard and pink, taut abs quivering. Ryder spat onto his palm, lubing his cock with a crude stroke before slapping it against her clit.

"Look at this greedy cunt," he sneered, grinding his shaft into her labia. "Beg for it, bitch."

Lauren's chest heaved, her breasts slick with sweat as she thrashed beneath him, fingernails carving half-moon gashes into his broad shoulders.

"Condom," she gasped, grinding her swollen clit against the throbbing head of his cock, pussy lips spread wide.

Ryder froze, his jaw tightening, a low groan of frustration escaping his lips as he hesitated. His eyes flicked to Lauren's flushed face, her body squirming beneath him, practically begging for it raw. With a reluctant grunt, he shifted his weight, one hand still gripping her thigh as he twisted awkwardly to the side. His trousers lay crumpled on the floor, just out of reach, and he cursed under his breath.

"Fuckin' hell."

Stretching further, his fingers grazed the worn denim, hooking the belt loop to drag them closer. He fumbled for the wallet tucked in the back pocket. Flipping it open with a scowl, he rifled through, shoving aside crumpled receipts until he found the foil packet tucked in a corner. He tore it free, his movements sharp and impatient, the mood teetering on the edge of irritation as he glanced back at her, condom in hand.

"Beg, bitch."

Lauren's legs tightened like a vise around his waist, the heel of her spike shoes slamming into his ass cheek. "I need it. I want it. Please give it to me."

"Not just yet. Why don't you put that slutty mouth to work?"

With a psychotic expression, Lauren knew exactly what she had to do to earn his cock. Pushing him onto his back, her mouth was on him before he could finish the taunt. A hot, messy slide of lips and tongue took him deep, her throat fluttering around the head of his cock with a gurgle. Saliva dripped in thick strands from her stretched lips, her jaw unhinged as she worked him, each bob of her head punctuated by sloppy, obscene sucking noises.

Ryder's groans were ragged, his fingers knotting in her hair to yank her closer, forcing her nose into his pelvis. Gagging vibrations racked her throat, her spit overflowing in rivulets down his shaft, coating his balls. She pulled back just to gasp, lips swollen and slick, a string of drool still connecting her to his tip before she dove again, her tongue swirling around the vein underneath with a whimpered moan.

The sounds were wet and filthy as her cheeks hollowed around him. Every time Ryder thrust upward, her nose crinkled against his abdomen, her guttural gag muffled but unmistakable. She dragged her mouth off with a pop, panting, her chin glazed in spit and pre-cum.

"You like?" she asked her tongue swirling around the head in slow, teasing circles. Her eyes locked on his as she let her saliva drip onto his throbbing cock like a leaking faucet.

Ryder's hips jerked as he shoved her back down, the dark-haired beauty's protests abruptly drowned out. "Fuckin' nasty bitch."

Cockhead battering the back of Lauren's throat, his hips jackhammered upward as his balls drew tight against his taint.

"Swallow it, cumdump," he snarled, yanking her hair so hard her scalp screamed. Lauren's nostrils flared, her throat convulsing around him as the first hot spurt hit; bitter, salty ropes firing straight into her gullet. Eyes watering and mascara streaking, she tried to pull back, but Rawling's grip was iron, fucking her face through it.

"Good slut. Take it all."

Semen jetted like a geyser in thick pulses that overflowed her lips, dripping off her chin. Her throat worked frantically to choke down the viscous load, strands of it caught in her lashes, her breath whistling through cum-clogged nostrils. Ryder grunted, shoving her down until his softening dick painted her tongue with the last dribbles.

Lauren collapsed backward, chest heaving. Her mouth was full of spit and semen.

"Fuck... you came so much..." she slurred, tongue lifting to show the pearly pool still coating her throat.

The cock slapped against her cheek, leaving sticky streaks.

"Lick it clean. Every fucking drop."

Lauren obeyed, slurping the spillage with whorish glee.

"Look at you," he sneered, grabbing a handful of her hair to yank her upright. "Disgusting."

Lauren grinned, cum staining her teeth. "You're disgusting."

He backhanded her, the slap echoing off the walls.

"Nobody asked you. Now climb on top, we're not done."

+++++

Corey carefully drove the speed limit as he pointed his Audi A5 south toward downtown Miami. He knew he wasn't completely sober and spending the night in the Miami-Dade County jail was not what he had in mind. He could have stayed. Probably should have. But at half-past one in the morning, Brickell was only about a twenty-minute drive from Amy's townhome. Besides, he didn't feel like listening to Zane and his new squeeze fuck for the next two hours.

Quite frankly, all he wanted was to sleep. Why Amy hadn't crashed with Lauren was anyone's guess. Whenever those two went out with their stripper friend, all bets were off. They could've just gotten really hammered, or there might have been some girl drama that Corey tried to stay out of. Regardless of the reason, he felt the heartburn from the beer rising in his gullet and let out a huge belch. Fanning away the odor, he knew he'd need to tiptoe into the apartment.

Surely Lauren would be asleep by now.

+++++

Tanned thighs quivered as the promiscuous wife slung one leg over Ryder's hips, straddling him with a bent smile. Her swollen pussy hovered just above his thick, now latex-sheathed cock, the air heavy with the sour musk of sweat and semen. Lauren's midnight mane, now matted, clung to her shoulders, framing small breasts, nipples still hard and flushed from earlier abuse. She licked her cracked lips, tasting the slippery remnants of his load.

Fair was fair.

"Gonna make you beg for this," she said hoarsely, voice wrecked from her throat being pounded raw. Hips tilted forward, the slick, puffy lips of her outer labia brushing the throbbing head of his cock, teasing him.

"Look at that sloppy slit." Ryder's hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave purple marks, grimacing as her clit dragged along his shaft.

His cock twitched, the veiny shaft glistening as her butterfly parted to accept it, hugging the sides without letting him slip inside. Lauren's hips rolled slowly, deliberately, spreading wider, the pink, glistening inner folds peeking out as she ground against him. Each slide was torturously precise, designed to elicit maximum torture.

"Feel that?" she taunted. "Do you want inside?"

She leaned forward, one cum-crusted nipple grazing his chest as she angled her hips to drag her pussy harder against him.

Ryder's jaw clenched, his hips jerking upward, trying to force his cock inside, but Lauren lifted just enough to keep him out, her dripping cunt still cradling his shaft in a slick, torturous embrace.

Taking a page out of his playbook, she rocked faster. "Not yet! You want this pussy, then earn it."

"Goddamn tease," Ryder growled, his hands sliding to her ass.

He spread her open, exposing the tight pucker of her asshole and the dripping mess of her gash. His hands drew back and then struck her cheeks hard.

"Put it in, goddamnit. Put it in NOW!"

+++++

Corey pulled the expensive sedan into the parking garage, carefully maneuvering around the corners of each level to avoid a collision with any oncoming neighbors. Not that there would be any at that time of night. After parking, he turned off the engine and yawned. It would be good to finally get some shut-eye.

The humid Miami air hit him as he stepped from the Audi, thick and heavy, like a warm blanket. At only seven levels, the parking structure was a fraction of the height of the apartment building, requiring an elevator to take him the rest of the way. Stepping quickly, he noticed how the flickering fluorescent lights, his footsteps bouncing off the walls, and the absence of anyone else in the garage made everything feel a little eerie.

The edgy project manager sighed with relief when he reached the small elevator lobby on the sixth level. He'd be glad to unwind and finally relax in his own place.

+++++

Ryder's hips bucked again, but Lauren held firm, her thighs clamping his waist to maintain control, her pussy lips still teasing, sliding, and tormenting.

She leaned down, her breath hot against his ear, her voice a filthy whisper.

"You want in, baby?"

Her clit grazed his shaft, sending a shudder throughout, her own control waning as she fought the urge to impale herself. Lauren moaned again, head falling back, tits bouncing as she gave in just enough to let her cleft to stroke him faster, the slick, rhythmic glide driving them both insane. Slowly, agonizingly, she tilted her hips, letting the fat head of his cock nudge past her outer lips, the slick skin parting with an obscene wetness. They stretched around him, the tight heat of her pussy gripping the tip as she paused, savoring the burn.

"Fuck..." she whimpered in a low, throaty groan.

The mewling grew louder, a desperate, keening sound as she sank lower, her tunnel yielding inch by torturous inch.

"Oh, shit... so fucking big," Lauren gasped, her voice trembling, abs quivering as she fought to control the descent. The wet, sucking sound of her cunt enveloping him filled the room, underscored by the creak of the bed and the faint slap of her ass cheeks brushing his thighs.

"Fuck me," the shameless Iowan wife begged. "Fuck me now."

+++++

The elevator's ding echoed like Big Ben in the two-a. m. quiet of the 23rd floor. Corey walked slowly down the hallway to the luxury apartment, trying to fish the key fob from his pocket. Pausing in front of the door, he swiped it and entered the dark, air-conditioned coolness. Finding the "Home is where the heart is" plaque that Lauren had hung by the door, he placed the car keys on the protruding hook and grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator.

Drawing a deep sigh, he stood in the darkness, appreciating the quiet. In his condition, silence was certainly golden.

Until it wasn't.

+++++

Ryder's groan was guttural, a primal rumble deep in his chest as Lauren's pussy gripped him like a vise.

"Goddamn, girl," he grunted, hips twitching upward instinctively. But her thighs tightened, holding him in place, forcing him to endure the torment of her agonizingly slow pace.

Lauren's athletic frame moved with deliberate intensity, pelvis grinding in circles as she rode the man from the Taffy Snapper. Her baseball-sized breasts were streaked with cum as diamond-hard nipples gored the air.

"Destroy me, you bastard."

Suddenly Lauren quickened the pace, hips slamming down harder, chasing the immense pleasure that came with every thrust. One of Ryder's hands reached up and sharply smacked a tit, causing her to shriek in pain.

"OHHHH FUCCCCK."

+++++

With the bottled water halfway to his lips, Corey froze. A faint, high-pitched squeal pierced the quiet. His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head to one side, straining to pinpoint the sound. It was sharp, almost animalistic, but muffled, as if coming from within the walls themselves. A neighbor's cat, maybe? Trapped somewhere in the ventilation? Nah. A water pipe singing under pressure in the dead of night? Possibly. The building was old, despite its polished veneer. He stood still, waiting for the sound to repeat, but the air-conditioned hum of the apartment masked any further clues.

Then it came again. This time what could only be described as a raw yelp, clawing through the walls. It was louder this time, unmistakable, carrying a frantic mix of pain and something else, something primal. Corey held his breath and snap his head toward the bedroom door. Not a cat. Not a pipe. The sound was too human, too close, vibrating with an intensity that made his skin prickle. It cut off abruptly, leaving a heavy silence that felt louder than the noise itself.

His heart pounded as he set the bottled water on the counter. The second squeal was still echoing in his ears when he began moving cautiously down the hallway, each step deliberately avoiding creaky floorboards. Sweat streamed from his pores and the darkness seemed to thicken with every inch. Nearing the bedroom he heard indiscernible whispering, like hushed voices tangled in a fevered exchange. Then came more sharp, wet slapping; unmistakable, like flesh striking flesh. Each was followed by a caterwaul of agony and ecstasy.

Lauren was either watching porn or...

Edging forward as a silent shadow feeling like a stranger in his own place, Corey's pulse thundered, each sound pulling him closer to the truth he wasn't sure he wanted to face. With each step, the voices grew more frantic and unrestrained. Reaching the single bedroom door, his fingers brushed the cool wood, only to find the it already ajar. The frantic whispers and wet slaps continued, laced with another raw wail that made his stomach lurch.

He hesitated. Then, with a trembling hand, pressed his palm lightly against the door, giving it a gentle push. It swung open several more inches, revealing a widening view of the room beyond. The full moon provided the only light as his old eyes strained to make sense of the chaotic movement on the bed. The air reeked of sex, heavy with the sharp, tangy scent of semen and other bodily fluids. Though the room was quite dark, Corey could see the outline of a mysterious figure suddenly sit upright, plentiful long hair billowing wildly, then falling down the length of a back as she raised her face to the ceiling. It was a woman's profile.

Lauren's profile.

"Fuck... you're so deep," his wife proclaimed.

She was grabbing and clutching at the chest of the figure beneath her as her hips glided back and forth as if on a rail. The pitch of their moans rose higher, more desperate.

"Ride it, whore," came a male voice.

Lauren's head fell back as she slammed her pussy downward, her long black mane whipping through the air as her head thrashed. Her moans were raw, matching the man's grunts. The bed creaked under them as if about to give way, evidence they had been at it for a while and were nearing release.

"I'm... c-c-close..." she whispered, her brain struggling to form the words.

"Me too," the man breathed back, trying to keep up with her.

And that's when it happened.

A faint squeak of the bedroom door's hinges was all it took. Not loud, but distinct enough from the other sounds to be noticed.

Lauren's head snapped toward the noise, her breath catching as she glanced over her shoulder, bangs falling in sweaty strands across her face. Her eyes widened as she locked gazes with her husband who was standing motionless in the doorway. With a flick of a switch, Corey turned on the torchiere in one corner of the room. It didn't provide much light, but it was enough to make everything distinguishable.

Fuck.

"What... what are you doing here?" Lauren panted, her lips trembling, hips slowing their electric glide on the guy's cock. She made no attempt to dismount, leaving her thighs quivering as she held herself fast, unsure of what to do.

Ryder had been teetering on the brink of release and felt the shift in her rhythm.

"What the hell?"

Sensing someone else in the room, he peered around her side, his gaze landing on an older man in the doorway. Through the fog of primal lust, the nagging familiarity question was finally answered as epiphanic recognition flashed across his face. His eyes went to photos on the nightstand that the darkness had previously obscured.

This same slut in a wedding dress, arm in arm with a tuxedoed groom.

She with the same smiling man with a rainforest background.

His eyes darted between the photos and the man who had interrupted them. They became wide and wild when memory kicked in.

"Miller?"

The name hung in the air, heavy with implication. Lauren's brow rasied. She had not given this guy her last name. So how...?

"Corey Miller?"

Ryder looked up at Lauren.

"You're Corey Miller's... wife?"

Before Ryder Rawlings could process it, the realization of who she was struck a powerful chord. The revelation, combined with her pussy clamped around his cock was enough to push him over the edge.

"Oh, FUCK!"

Even from across the room, it was clear to Corey that the guy was now blasting hot, thick cum into his wife's pussy. Lauren gasped, her body shuddering as she felt the heat from the sudden flood in the tip of the condom.

"Shit, Ryder!" she moaned, but made no attempt to tap out. Finally, when he was spent, Rawlings pushed her off, his deflating cock plopping out with a nasty sound. The tip rubber's reservoir flopped about.

Coming to rest on her knees, Lauren breathlessly repeated her question. "What are you doing here?"

Corey stood rooted, his half-drunk haze shattered, as his eyes flicked between Lauren's sweat-soaked body and the younger man's cock slowly coming to rest on his thigh.

"I live here," he said, blinking.

"You said you were staying at Amy's."

"So that makes this okay?"

"I don't need your permission."

Her words cut deep, delivered with unapologetic defiance, laying bare the shift in their dynamic. The sight of his wife, breathless and unashamed, beside another man in their marital bed, made her dismissal even harder to take. He was no longer an influencer. Just a plebe.

Ryder slid off the bed as the haze of his orgasm faded. He stood in all his six-foot-four naked glory and pulled off the condom, allowing tiny droplets of semen to drip from his not-insignificant penis. He extended an index finger toward the man who had disrupted his fun.

"Corey fuckin' Miller."

Corey didn't like the nastiness welling up in the guy's eyes. He wasn't acting like someone who had just been caught fucking another man's wife. Most would be grabbing their trousers and looking for a way out. This was quite the opposite.

Rawlings turned and pointed the same finger at Lauren.

"Did you know...", his face contorting as if the memory was painful, "that your husband ruined the lives of at least half a dozen of his fellow employees with the stroke of a pen?"

Lauren saw the contempt in her new lover's eyes. Corey had told her of those he had to let go. "The layoffs?"

"Layoffs? No, no, no, NO! We were FIRED. All because your hubby didn't like the way we ran our projects. But for YEARS, we did fine without his opinion. Then he turned Dactyl against us."

The crazed look on Dactyl's former employee's face grew even wilder as he pivoted his attention back to Corey. Advancing a few steps toward his former team lead, he shook his fist.

"You RUINED everything. I damn near lost it all. My car, my girl.

"You FUCKED me, dude."

Rawlings then broke out into unhinged, almost diabolical laughter.

"JUST like... just like I fucked YOUR WIFE!"

Ryder stood tall and closed the gap between him and the older, gray-haired man. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Several thoughts flashed through Lauren's mind. She could either shut this down right now and kick the guy out, or...

That look Corey's face. Familiar. Predictable. He was turned on, excited. And that tent in his shorts was undeniable. Her husband WANTED this to go down.

Corey looked at Lauren to gauge a reaction. Jesus Christ. Was that a grin? Did she think this was funny?

"I..."

"You what?" the out-of-work project manager spat back. "Come on, do something, pussy."

There was little doubt Corey was pissed. His wife had brought who she thought was a stranger back to their apartment. Not only that, but she fucked the guy in their bed without so much as an FYI text.

Yet, there was also no denying the exquisite humiliation he felt at that exact moment. It was overwhelming. Karma was knocking on the door. Was there anything more moving, more emotional than that? Even as he looked into the full-blown rage of a man who felt wronged, Corey's cock began to twitch and grow. His heart raced as he watched Lauren's smirk widen, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within him. The sting cut deep, yet an unsettling thrill coursed through his veins, a twisted pleasure in being exposed and vulnerable in front of her. He felt the weight of his own insecurities crash over him, while a dark part of him reveled in the irony of it all: being cucked by a man he had deemed unworthy professionally, all the while he being unworthy sexually. It was a cruel twist of fate, and as much as he loathed the situation, a part of him couldn't help but respond with the most abhorrent of reactions.

Without a word, Corey closed his eyes, conflicting emotions swirling within him as his hand moved to his crotch. With a trembling grip, he unsnapped the button and slowly pulled down the fly, the sound of the zipper barely audible over his breathing. This must have been the way old men in trench coats used to feel. A total surrender to the perverted thrill that drove them to drastic measures.

Ryder looked suspiciously at Lauren. "What the...?"

His disbelief grew even more when the heir apparent at Dactyl Construction dropped his cargo shorts and stood there expectantly.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

The look on Lauren's face told him it was not.

"Did you plan this?"

The Rekrap executive chortled. "I'm not this creative."

Ryder continued with a chuckle of his own. "He likes this?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't categorize it as liking. More a craving."

"Holeeee shit."

Ryder spun around, glaring at his former boss with the nastiest of sneers, stepping close like he owned the damn room. "Get your ass on your knees, now."

Corey's eyes met Lauren's. They twinkled. This was amusing her.

So, he did. He let his legs buckle, bringing his knees slamming into the floor like a puppet with cut strings. His eyes fixed on the crotch of the man he had fired, his heart pounding like a drum. Ryder's dick was thick, wide, and veiny. Still sticky from Lauren, with a hairy sack that looked like it could choke even a hooker.

"Do it, bitch," Ryder growled.

Lauren slid off the bed and stood beside the younger man, her hand on his shoulder.

"He's not into guys."

"This ain't about being gay, and you know it," he snapped coldly. "It's about him knowing his fucking place."

He squared his shoulders, hands on his hips, staring Corey down. "Get to work. Make me hard so I can fuck your wife. Again." The laughter that followed was eerily macabre.

Corey's knees shook, his hands clenching and opening. The shame was pronounced, but his dick was rock-hard, betraying his arousal.

"Do it," Ryder repeated.

Lauren stood clinging to Rawlings' back, her naked breasts pressed against his spine. A part of her wanted to stop this, to protect her husband from another 'episode,' but she saw it in Corey's eyes. He hadn't uttered the safe word. In fact, he hadn't uttered a damn thing. His expression and erection clearly indicated he wanted this to continue. She remembered their encounter with Griffin Schutlz, where Corey had incidental contact with the guy's cock. But would he really suck a dick?

"Your choice, Twisty," she nodded.

And just like that, any fight Corey had drained from his body. There would be no protests from his wife, no trying to stop it. His face turned red, torn between hating himself and being turned on. That Ryder's cock stood thick and rigidly proud didn't help. The shaft was broad, pulsing, its skin taut and flushed a deep, angry red at the tip. His balls hung low, encased in a dark, wrinkled sac dusted with coarse, wiry hair that spread upward into a dense, untamed bush of black pubic hair, thick enough to obscure the base of his shaft.

Ryder sneered again. "What, never seen a real cock before, princess?" he taunted, leaning down to make Corey feel like a speck. "Quit staring and get to it."

Corey's throat was dry, his heart racing. Ryder's hand grabbed his hair, yanking him forward hard enough to make him gasp.

"Don't make me fucking say it again."

Corey's trembling fingers hesitated before closing around Ryder's thick, throbbing cock, the skin scorching hot and slick under his grip, veins pulsing against his palm like the living thing it was. Clear, sticky drops of precum oozed from the swollen tip, smearing across his thumb as he squeezed, the slickness making his gut churn with a nauseating mix of humiliation and raw arousal. His mind screamed. This was wrong, degrading, a line he'd never imagined crossing.

But his own dick twitched hard, betraying him. He glanced at Lauren, her lips curled into a cruel, delighted smile. She was savoring his discomfort, her pleasure in his shame like a knife twisting in his chest. Heart about ready to burst, he leaned in, lips parting, and for the first time ever, he took a cock into his mouth. The fat head stretched his jaw, the bitter, salty taste of precum flooding his tongue. Shame burned his face, his throat tightening as he gagged slightly. And yet, the sick thrill of being so utterly debased surged through him, his mind seething with self-loathing and twisted need. He wanted to stop yet was desperate to keep going.

Above him, the younger man moaned. "That's it. Such a good cocksucker."

Corey's lips stretched wide around Ryder's thick cock, his tongue flattening against the underside as he bobbed his head. He'd seen Lauren blow several guys and seen the porn. Trying to emulate what he'd learned, his right hand gripped the base, fingers digging into the flesh, twisting in a steady rhythm that made Ryder's shaft pulse and expand. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, mixing with the clear precum leaking from the tip, coating his chin as he worked. His jaw began to ache from the sheer girth. His left hand cupped Ryder's heavy balls, rolling them gently, feeling their weight in his palm. The musky scent of sweat and semen filled his nose, dizzying, as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, his throat relaxing to take more, driven by a humiliating need to please despite the shame.

His pace quickened, head tilting to drag his lips along the side of Ryder's dick, tongue flicking at the sensitive ridge beneath the head before plunging back down. Corey's eyes began to water, face reddening. He varied the rhythm, alternating between shallow, teasing sucks and deep, throat-straining plunges. He had to keep Ryder hard. He just had to. He must.

Suddenly, Rawlings yanked Corey's head back, slinging him away.

"ENOUGH, faggot. Let a pro do the rest."

He spun to Lauren, still pressed against his side, and shoved her to her knees. At that moment, she had an epiphany herself. This was far more than just another sexual conquest for Ryder. For him, it had morphed into pure, unadulterated revenge. This man had an agenda.

"Hold the slut's arms behind her back," he spat.

Corey had landed on his back and was now blinking with miscomprehension.

"HOLD HER GODDAMN ARMS!"

Having been flung to the floor, Corey was shaky but managed to knee-walk behind Lauren and gently gathered her arms behind her back. Holding her wrists together, she clasped her hands tightly, knowing what was about to happen.

Yanking her head back to expose her mouth, Ryder paused and looked at the couple. Satisfied with his twisted thoughts, he lunged forward without warning, plunging his dick into the brunette's mouth with a vicious thrust, the swollen head spearing past her lips and ramming deep into her throat. Her eyes widened involuntarily, tears streaming as she choked, her tongue struggling to find space alongside his shaft.

His grip on Lauren's hair tightened, knuckles whitening as he forced her head back further, her throat stretched open in a vulnerable arc. His cock, still slick from Corey's mouth, slammed into her with brutal, relentless thrusts, each one driving deeper, the thick shaft filling her airway until her gag reflex spasmed wildly. Her muffled whimpers vibrated against his skin while deep crimson, mascara-streaked tears carved paths down her cheeks.

"Fuck yeah, take it, you filthy slut," he snarled, eyes burning with sadistic glee.

He yanked Lauren's head side to side, twisting her mouth around his cock, forcing her to feel every inch of it. Her throat convulsed, but Ryder only thrust harder, forcing Corey to tighten his grip on his wife's elbows to keep her steady. His own cock was painfully hard, leaking against his thigh. The sight of Ryder's manhood violating his wife's mouth, her throat bulging with each thrust, sent a sickening jolt of arousal through him. He hated it, hated himself, but the depravity of it all consumed him as Lauren's muffled gags filled the room.

Ryder's pace grew erratic and more brutal, his heavy balls tightening as he neared his nut. He shoved himself deeper, holding her head flush, keeping her nose buried in his pubes, cutting off her air. Lauren's body thrashed, her arms straining against Corey's hold, chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. Her throat spasmed around Rawling's cock, milking it with involuntary contractions, and he groaned, low and guttural, his hips grinding against her face.

"Swallow it, bitch," he roared.

With a final, vicious thrust, he came, cock pulsing as hot cum flooded her throat. Lauren choked, overwhelmed, her body shuddering as she tried to swallow. Excess spunk spilled from her lips and dripped down her chin in sticky, white streams that pooled on her knees. Ryder held her there, forcing her to take every drop, his fingers digging into her scalp.

Finally, he pulled out, leaving Lauren gasping and coughing, her face a mess of tears, saliva, and semen. Corey let go and she collapsed forward, trembling, trying to catch her breath. Ryder wiped his dick along the part in her hair and grinned, turning his cold gaze to Corey.

"Your turn. Clean her up, cuck," he spat, stepping back to admire his handywork.

Corey's pulse raced, a mix of shame and arousal twisting his gut as he stared at Lauren, crumpled on the floor before him. Her face was a mess. Several streams of thick creamy cum had mixed with eyeliner while making their way off her chin and onto her slender neck.

Corey crawled along the carpet until his face was inches from hers. The musky, pungent scent of Ryder's cum hit him first, mingling with the salty tang of her sweat and a faint trace of her perfume.  His stomach churned, but he forced his tongue to dart out, driven by a perverse need to obey.

"Do it, you pathetic fuck," Ryder demanded with contempt as he loomed over them, stroking his softening cock.

Corey's hands cupped Lauren's face, his fingers slipping slightly in the slickness. He leaned in, gasping, and pressed his tongue to her chin. The slop felt different than the precum that had previously leaked into his mouth while sucking. The texture was viscous, not unpleasant, and slid easily down his throat.

Corey's tongue traced higher, lapping at the corners of her mouth where cum was beginning to crust. He sucked gently, pulling the remnants of Ryder's load from beneath her nose and around her brow. His hands slid to her cheeks, thumbs smearing the drying streaks of mascara as he licked broader swaths of her face.

"Get in there, you fucking slut. Tongue her mouth. Taste what I left in your wife's throat."

Corey obeyed, his lips pressing fully against Lauren's, parting them with a gentle nudge. Her mouth opened willingly, and his tongue plunged inside, meeting hers. The taste was raw. Metallic. Pungent. He moaned involuntarily, his tongue swirling, chasing every trace of the sperm that had spilled inside her. He sucked at her tongue, drawing it into his mouth, then probed deeper, licking the roof of her mouth and the insides of her cheeks, desperate to consume every lingering drop.

"Not bad, cuck," Ryder mocked the older man. "Now stay on your fucking knees where you belong."

He loomed over Lauren. The air in the room reeked of sweat and cum. Without warning, his hand shot out, fingers tangling in her disheveled hair, the strands damp with spit. He yanked hard and dragged her up from the floor. She stumbled to her feet, body swaying under his iron grip.

"Move, you fucking whore."

With a violent jerk, Ryder hauled her toward the bed, her bare feet scraping the carpet as she struggled to keep up.

Corey watched, frozen on his knees, his cock throbbing painfully as it stood rigid and springing like a diving board. The sight of his wife manhandled like a ragdoll continued to send jolts of arousal through him. He couldn't tear his eyes away as Lauren was flung onto the bed with a savage toss. She hit the mattress with a muffled thud, hair fanning out in a tangled halo, body bouncing slightly before settling into the rumpled sheets. Her legs splayed instinctively, the pink, swollen lips of her pussy exposed and glistening. The sight made Ryder's lips curl into a sadistic grin.

"Spread those slut legs," he barked.

Lauren gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly, but she obeyed, her knees parting wider, hips tilting upward in offering. Her eyes, wide and glassy, locked onto his. Both men saw the fire burning. Inside, she could feel Kumiho rising.

"Condom."

Ryder frowned. "Only had one."

"Drawer," Lauren pointed to a nightstand.

Rawlings looked expectantly at her husband. "Well?"

Corey's knees knocked as he crawled across the mattress toward the nightstand. His dick was hard and swayed with each movement, a humiliating reminder of his arousal. Pulling open the drawer, he fumbled briefly before his fingers closed around a small foil packet. Turning back, he returned to where Ryder knelt between Lauren's legs and started to hand it to Ryder, who simply scoffed.

"Nah. You put it on, faggot."

Momentarily hesitating, Corey settled next to Ryder and tore at the rubber's packaging. Sweaty palms positioned the ring at the tip of the pulsing cock and carefully rolled the latex down over the hard shaft.

"What do you say to your superior?"

Corey glowered. "What?"

"What do you say to me?"

The red-faced husband stared back with despise.

"Fuck my wife?"

Ryder yawned. "Fuck my wife, what?"

"Fuck my wife, sir."

Leaning over, Lauren's lover tightened his grip on her hair, pulled her head back and forced her mouth open. Seconds later she felt a wet glob landing on her tongue as he spat.

"Swallow."

Lauren's throat moved as she complied. His spit-slick fingers trailed down her neck, smearing the wetness across her skin before he released her jaw and reared back, his eyes raking over her like she was nothing more than a fuck doll.

To emphasize that, Rawlings drove his cock into her, spearing her pussy with a force that made her cry out, back arching off the bed. The head of his cock slammed deep, sending a jolt of pain-laced pleasure through her body as she struggled to accommodate him. Ryder didn't pause, didn't give Lauren a moment to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again.  Harder. Deeper.

"Fucking take it, whore" he squawked, his hips snapping forward with relentless ferocity, each thrust punishing her body.

His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, leaving red marks that would bruise by morning. Face hovering inches from hers, he spit again, this time across her cheek. The warm, wet streak inched toward her ear.

"You love this, don't you, you dirty fucking cunt?"

Lauren's eyes fluttered, her body betraying her as her pussy clenched tighter around him. Hips bucking to meet Ryder's thrusts, her hands clawed at his back, long painted nails digging in.

His pace was merciless with a machine-like rhythm. A mindless cock, pistoning in and out. Juices flowed down to her ass, soaking the sheets beneath them. Ryder's balls slapped heavily against her. Shifting, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half as he drove deeper, the new angle making her cry out, eyes rolling back as she surrendered completely.

Ryder jerked his head toward Corey.

"Look at your husband." His voice was full of malice.

Lauren craned her neck and found Corey kneeling next to them on mattress.

Ryder's hand shot to her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp.

"Tell him."

She knew what he wanted. Endorsement. Validation that he was a better lover than the man who canned him.

"Watch him," Lauren squeaked at her husband. ""Watch how he fucks me, babe. So much better than you can ever be."

Unbeknownst to Rawlings, he was, in fact, fanning the flames of the very thing the man he was trying to humiliate craved.

"You're such a lousy fuck. THANK GOD there are men like him that can fuck me the right way."

Ryder seemed pleased when Corey bleated and grabbed his own dick.

"Piece of shit. Look how your wife needs me."

The assault on Lauren's pussy continued.

"Fuck me, you stupid cunt."

Her hips kept moving, matching the relentless pace, body a blur of motion as she fucked him with equal ferocity. Hand gripped his shoulders as her thighs squeezed his neck

"Harder! Do me like he can't."

Lauren's hips pushed up to meet his hard thrusts. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the air, loud and raw. Occasionally, her lips would open, eyes sometimes rolling back. She wasn't just taking it; she was pushing back, matching Ryder's moves like she couldn't get enough. Her moans got louder, hands clawing at his head.

He kept going, strong and deep.

"She's mine now, Miller," he sneered. "Look at her. She needs me, not you."

Lauren's body arched, her moans now yelps as she got closer to the edge. She stared at Corey again, her smile taunting.

"He's gonna make me cum, Twisty. Not you. Him."

Ryder smashed into her, droplets flying from her drenched cunt every time he pumped in and out.

"Cum for me, you worthless bitch."

He slapped her face again.

"Yes, OH GOD, YES!" Lauren cried, face twisting with pleasure.

The pain pushed her over the edge, body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clamping down on his cock like a vise, screams muffled by the pressure on her throat. Corey's eyes widened as juices gushed from around his impaled cock as she shuddered beneath the stranger.

But Ryder didn't stop. He kept fucking her, chasing his own with savage intensity. His grip on her throat loosened, moving to her hair again, yanking her head back as he spat once more, this time into her open, gasping mouth.

"Fucking mine," he snarled, his hips slamming into the prodigal wife.

With a neighborhood waking bellow, he came, balls tightening as he unloaded deep inside her. He collapsed, his weight crushing her into the mattress, cock still buried deep as he panted against her neck. Lauren's body twitched, her pussy pulsing with aftershocks, her mind a haze of pain, pleasure, and shame. Pulling out slowly, Rawling's cum leaked from her abused pussy, pooling on the sheets. He rolled off and landed beside her, pulling her to him.

Corey looked on as Ryder and Lauren settled in, laying close, their bodies pressed together in a cozy, messy embrace. Legs overlapping, his ankles hooked gently around hers. Their hands found each other, and she tucked her head against a strong shoulder. Her hair, wet and matted, lay sprawled in disarray.

Ryder broke a kiss as he glanced at his old boss, a shriveled cock desperately bobbing in the air needing relief.

"I think he wants to cum."

Lauren agreed. "You want to cum, Twisty?"

Corey nodded.

"Come closer then. Right here," she patted an area of the sheets between her and Rawlings.

The older man shuffled on his calves until they were touching their hips.

"Go on," Ryder hissed. "Fuck your hand, ya pansy."

Anyone else would have seen a broken man in submission. An aging, pudgy pale ghost of himself, with sagging chest and a tire of fat around his waist. But Lauren saw something else. She saw the glint in his eye; the arousal and revelry in a wrapper of shame and disgrace. This was a man whose needle was pegging the cuck-meter. Her husband was exactly where he wanted to be. Who was she to take that away from him?

"Do it, babe." Her voice purred as one of her hands traced lazy circles on Ryder's chest. It was encouraging and condescending all at once. "Make that little dick of yours cum for us."

Corey drew a deep breath. He looked down at the appendage that had been failing him for quite some time. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and grasped his unreliable cock with one hand. The strokes were slow at first. Unsteady, unsure and clumsy. The more he fiddled, the easier the precum's viscosity made his skin slick and mailable. Every subsequent pull provide jolts of shameful, twisted bliss. The sight of the couple laying before him, tangled and caressing each other made him nauseous.

Lauren buried her face in the crook of Ryder's arm with an amused giggle. "Oh my God, that's disgusting."

She moaned as Rawling's hand slid down her back, cupping her ass, and pulling her to him. They kissed deeply, all the while watching Corey masturbate.

"Look at him," she murmured with scorn. "So pathetic."

He chuckled. "Faster, you useless fuck," he growled. "Pump that tiny dicklet."

Corey's hand moved faster, his strokes growing desperate, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the air. His shaft was red and throbbing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled over his fingers as he pumped. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps, chest rising and falling, their cruel words searing through him like a branding iron. His gaze flicked between Lauren's taunting smirk and Ryder's icy, commanding stare, their lips crashing together again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. He was nearing the edge, his cock pulsing in his hand, balls tight with the urgent need to let go.

"Oh my God, you're such a fucking joke," Lauren spat, pulling back from the kiss to glare at him, her hand stroking Ryder's cock lazily. "Humping your hand like a dog while we make out."

She used her free hand to spread her labia. "You don't deserve this pussy, Twisty."

Ryder's hand tangled in Lauren's hair, pulling her back into another kiss. "He's gonna blow soon. So fucking weak. Can't even last for two minutes."

Corey's hand was a blur now, the rhythmic slap of his palm the only sound. His cock pulsed, pressure building in his nuts, his entire body trembling as he teetered precariously. His eyes were locked on them. Lauren jerking Ryder's manhood, their tongues tangling, bodies pressed so close they seemed as one. The shame was overwhelming, drowning his mind in the depravity of it all.

Ryder broke the kiss, his eyes narrowing as he sensed Corey's impending release.

"Ohhh, no, don't you fucking cum yet," he barked, rolling away from Lauren onto his back.

Grabbing his own erect cock, Ryder stared at the wretched man kneeling beside him.

"Cum on it, you piece of shit. Lube me up with your worthless load."

At that point, Corey would do anything to cum. He gazed down on Ryder's cock, a humiliating reminder of his own inadequacy. With a choked, disparaging moan, his balls tightened, and he came, spasming, thick ropes of cum erupting from the tip and splattering across Ryder's shaft in hot, sticky streaks. The first spurt hit the base, coating the wiry pubic hair, while the second and third landed higher, painting the thick veins and the swollen head in a milky white glaze.

Ryder laughed wildly and flipped Lauren onto her belly in one fluid motion. She arched instinctively, knees sinking into the soft bedding, palms pressing into the sheets as her hips tilted upward in offering. Strands of long hair fell messily across her shoulders. Positioning himself behind, he gripped her hips to steady his balance. Without pause, he pressed the swollen head of his cock against her tight, puckered asshole. Her petite frame trembled, ass raised high, cheeks spread wide. With a slow, cruel twist of his pelvis, he forced the fat glans past her starfish, stretching the tight ring obscenely to take him. Despite the slickness of her husband's spunk, it hurt, causing her fingers clawed the sheets, knuckles whitening, her cunt clenching visibly below, dripping onto the bed.

Ryder grunted, a low, animalistic rumble deep in his chest, his balls tightening as her ass gripped him like a vise.

"Fuck, you're tight."

He eased forward inch by inch, burrowing deep. The smell grew pungent, earthy, and raw. A sort of depraved perfume that drove him on. Lauren's moans turned rhythmic, each one a broken, slutty cry, her body rocking back to meet him, her ass jiggling with every slow thrust. Her anus clung to his shaft, pink and taut, dragging along his cock as he pulled back, only to slam forward again, deeper, harder.

"Take it, you fucking whore," Ryder growled, his grunts louder now, feral, each one punctuated by the wet, obscene slap of his balls against her soaked cunt.

He fucked her ass with relentless precision, his unprotected cock pistoning in and out, milking him. Lauren's moans became hoarser as she begged to be fucked.

"Take it, take it, OH GOD, YES! TAKE MY ASS!"

The bed creaked under the weight of three adults, two in a feverish coupling.  Corey was sitting beside them with legs curled beneath his tubby frame, trembling, when Lauren saw him out the corner of her eye.

"You're nothing, Twisty," she hissed, eyes ablaze with sadistic glee. "You think I'm going to stay with a fat, titty-boy like you when I can have this?"

She gasped as Ryder's pulled back on her hair, yanking her face to the ceiling. Her eyes roll back as she felt her sphincter being punished.

"OH FUCK!"

The bed was shaking now. Ryder slapped her ass again, the crack echoing.

"Tell him, bitch. Tell this fat fuck how much you love my cock, how you're done with his pathetic ass."

His grunts were primal, balls slapping her cheeks as he fucked her ass with relentless fury. The smell was overwhelming, an acrid blend of semen and shit, marked by frequent anal queefs which exasperated the almost unpleasant reek.

"I'm done with you, you fucking pig," she cackled, her body rocking with every thrust, breasts bouncing, her brown hole stretched wide around Ryder's cock. "I need a real man, someone without tits who can fuck me like this and make me cum."

A series of gasps and moans made her pause before continuing.

"You're just a useless little shit, and I'll leave you for the second he wants me to.

"You threw him away just like you're doing to me."

Her words were a lie, a performance, but they felt real, each one slicing through Corey's soul like a sharp dagger. His whimpers were barely audible over the lovers. The humiliation was a drug, a sick, twisted high that made his balls tighten even though he just came. He needed this, needed their cruelty, needed the fear that Lauren would walk away, leave him for a man like Ryder or Alex or Zane. Someone who could fuck her into oblivion. The thought was unbearable, yet it was everything, the dark heart of his kink, the thing that he lived every waking breath for.

"OH MY GOD FUCK ME!"

The couple's passion began to devolve into primal, jagged cries, marked frequently by Lauren's agony and bliss. Ryder's were low and animalistic, rumbling from his chest, growing louder as his pace quickened, his cock throbbing inside her tight, yielding rectum. The intensity surged, bodies slick with sweat, the air heavy with the musky stench. Her moans fractured into high-pitched squeals, body surrendering to the relentless assault.

Suddenly the inflection of Ryder's grunts became short and labored as his balls tightened once again. His face morphed, eyes narrowing to slits, jaw clenched, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his brow as raw pleasure and exertion twisted his features into something otherworldly. Fingers dug into Lauren's hips, gripping her with bruising force, anchoring her as he drove forward with a final, savage slam, burying his throbbing cock to the hilt in her stretched, abused shithole. His head tipped back slightly, uttering one last long groan and he unloaded a pulsing spray of cum deep into her.

After what seemed like an eternity, he loosened his iron grip on Lauren's hips, fingers leaving faint red marks on her skin. With a gratified sigh, he pulled out, his softening cock slipping from her reddened, slick ass with a wet, pop that echoed faintly in the heavy air. A thin trickle of cum followed it out, falling from her abused hole and onto the sheets below. Ryder's chest heaved as he let go. Exhausted, he collapsed backward onto the mattress, limbs sprawling. Looking over at Corey, the younger man reached out and smacked a man-boob.

"Fuck you, dick."

Lauren's chest heaved as she lay beside Ryder. The room was thick with unspoken tension. She turned her head slightly and saw the thousand-yard stare of post-nut clarity in her husband's eyes. They were glassy, a face flushed with a mix of shame, arousal, and something deeper. Something that looked like... resignation.

The unplanned cuckolding session had yielded unexpected results. Everyone had gotten what they needed. Everyone satiated in their own way. But she could tell by the distant look on Corey's face that this had gone far enough for one night.

Lauren tapped Ryder on the shoulder. "Time to go."

It wasn't a request.

Rawlings propped himself up on one elbow, gaze shifting between her and Corey, who hadn't moved. A smirk curved across his lips but faded under the weight of her stare. She wasn't playing.

"Done with me already?" he teased.

"I said it's time to go," she repeated firmly. "This was fun, but it's over. Get dressed."

Ryder's eyes narrowed as he assessed her. He glanced at Corey again, as if expecting some reaction, but the older man remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. With a scoff, Ryder swung his legs off the bed, snatching his trousers from the floor.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling them on with quick, jerky movements. "Didn't think you'd kick me out so soon after that."

Lauren crossed her arms, standing tall despite the ache in her body.

"You got what you came for, and more. Now leave."

She stepped toward the bedroom door, holding it open, eyes never leaving him.

Ryder buttoned his shirt, his movements slow, almost defiant, but he didn't argue further. He shot a dagger at Corey.

"You're a fucking mess, Miller," he said, voice dripping with disdain. With a final sneer, he brushed past Lauren and strode down the hallway. The front door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the apartment like a gunshot.

Lauren let out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension in the room shifted. She turned to Corey, who was still kneeling on the mattress. The silence between them was heavy, fraught with everything they didn't have words for. She sat next to him, a hand reaching out to touch his cheek as her eyes searched his.

"You okay?"

Corey nodded and placed his hand over hers.

Somewhat reassured, Lauren gently pulled him on top of her. Their bodies melded, her breasts soft against his chest, her legs parting slightly to cradle his hips. Weaving her fingers through his graying hair, she tugged softly to bring his face closer, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow. Tender.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth. The words were a lifeline, the validation he needed after she had been with someone else.

Their kisses deepened, tongues brushing in a slow, unhurried way. Just the quiet connection of two people finding their way back to each other. Corey's hands began to explore, tracing the familiar areas of her body. The curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her hips, the smooth expanse of her thighs. Her skin was still damp from sweat, but it felt like home under his fingers, a landscape he knew by heart. Lauren sighed into his mouth.

"Make love to me."

It was a welcomed invitation.

He shifted, his lips trailing down her neck. Her fingers tightened in his hair, a gentle tug that sent a shiver through him. Corey's mouth moved lower, brushing over her collarbone, then to the soft curve of her breast. He kissed her nipple, drawing a quiet moan, and took it into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling with care. There was no urgency, just the reclaiming of something sacred.

Corey eased into her slowly, her warmth enveloping him, her pussy still slick and lubricated. He paused, buried inside her, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the quiet. Lauren's hands slid to his shoulders, her nails grazing lightly, not to mark but to hold.

"Just you and me," she murmured, and he nodded, both of them tight with emotion.

He began to move, slow and gentle, each thrust a careful rocking that drew soft sighs from her lips. The bed creaked faintly, a quiet rhythm that stood in stark contrast to the earlier frenzy. Lauren's hips rose to meet his, their bodies falling into a familiar cadence they'd perfected over decades. Her hands roamed his back, tracing the lines of his aging body, not with judgment but with love, embracing every flaw. Corey's hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as he kissed her, their lips lingering, never straying far.

Lauren knew she wouldn't cum. Her body was too exhausted. But that wasn't the point. The point was intimacy, something that was arguably more important that any physical orgasm. Each gentle thrust, each kiss, was a reaffirmation of their marriage.

"Laur," he cried out softly.

She smiled lovingly, knowing the signs.

"Cum for me, babe."

And he did. Corey came quietly, a soft groan escaping as he buried his face in her neck. Lauren wrapped her arms around him and held him close, her fingers stroking his back as he rode out the gentle waves. He had lasted a whole five minutes, but that was okay. Time was just a marker, a fleeting gauge that faded against the weight of their shared history, where moments like birthdays and holidays with family stretched far beyond seconds and minutes. That was a bond no clock could capture.

As if on cue, just as her eyes were fluttering closed and about to succumb to sleep, her phone lit up the dark room. Turning it on its side from the nightstand, Lauren squinted and read the notification on the homescreen. It was from Caroline.

Hi Mom. Hope you and Dad are doing well. Call me in the morning. I've got big, big news!