Cuckqueans: Lauren

Lauren first started masturbating shortly before her first relationship began. The tension that built up between her and Matt was palpable, but she had mistaken it for a one-sided lust that could not be acted upon. He was a bass player with perfect hands despite a long scar running down the forefinger of his right hand, and those hands rarely left her mind's eye when she was alone. At first, she pictured them gripping her waist as he thrust into her, or wrapping around her neck while she lay on her back, legs spread and womanhood pulsing. Then she went to one of his concerts.

The singer in his band was a blonde bombshell, a total knockout. Her hair was like daylight, and her eyes like emeralds, and she had a smoky voice that would make Stevie Nicks quiver with jealousy. She walked around the stage with unbeatable confidence, singing with a hard rock scratch that lent power to her already intoxicating voice, and as she strutted her stuff, Lauren noticed just how strong the rapport was with Matt. They looked at each other, screaming the lyrics like no one else was there, and for a quick moment Lauren saw his hands around her neck instead. It looked good, and it looked fun.

That night, when she touched herself, the image of that singer getting choked by Matt made her drip in seconds. He was teasing her clit with the head of his cock, making her whimper through the little space left in her windpipe. Then, he looked over at Lauren and winked. She came so hard that her bedsheets were completely soaked, her body tightened and shook with such powerful convulsions that she was sore for the rest of the night and the following morning, arms, legs, and all. When it was over, she tried to process what had happened. It was a fantasy about the man of her dreams with another woman, but he looked over and winked. She had to be there in the fantasy, she had to have been in the room and watching.

The fantasy was long forgotten by the time they finally got together. They had hardly been dating a week when Lauren found herself desperately fellating Matt and asking for more. What felt like only a minute with his cock against her tongue turned out to be thirty, evident when she looked at the clock. He finally came in her mouth, spurt after spurt filling every bit of space inside until her mouth was almost completely full. The taste was magnificent, the sensation addicting. Not only was he the man of he dreams, he was also a god of sex.

Not long after, when they decided to have sex, her suspicions were confirmed. She came three times before he even started to fuck her, and that was three more times than she had ever orgasmed with someone else. She could get it going just fine on her own, but until Matt her experiences were left wanting. Now she learned the real meaning of an orgasm, and craved it every moment she was with him.

It was the honeymoon phase, of course, and when months went by and they remained together, the energy calmed to a healthy buzz. He never lost his talent for making her cum, and she never lost her thirst for his orgasm. That didn't mean they had to do it every day.

When the summer time hit, Matt was seen less and less. "We're thinking about writing some new songs," he explained. "Can't do it right if we don't put in the work, you know?" The band wasn't trying to make it big, but they did have one hell of a time writing music instead of just playing it. Lauren would never call any of their songs a hit, but they weren't bad to listen to either. In the grand scheme of things, it was always going to be a hobby. But sometimes hobbies are just worth doing right.

Lauren would spend her time in a variety of ways without Matt: catching up on TV shows, studying ahead of time for her fall semester at college, or masturbating to the memories of their greatest sexual hits.

A moonlit night out on the lake spent with his hard cock between her tits, slipping between her massive 32F pair with nothing but their combined saliva to lubricate. Her breasts were surprisingly sensitive for their size -- she had heard that the bigger the bust the less feeling their was. But she could get a world of pleasure out of a titjob.

A heat of the moment screw in the back of her SUV, parked on a dirt road between two towns. Every now and then a car would drive by and they would slow down a bit, but after about a dozen or so they stopped caring. Then, when he finally sprayed a hefty load across her tits, they looked up to see a car full of twenty-somethings had stopped to observe the rocking car. Something about that only made the memory more exciting, and it led to many interesting thoughts.

Once, Lauren had asked him to spank her. She only meant it as an experiment, but after only one hard smack against her buttocks she was subdued into a state of unabashed desire, and soon he was letting his hand fall in rapid succession. By the end of it, she was so bruised that it was painful to sit for the next couple of days. But it was more than worth it to her.

When Matt finally told her the band would be doing a new gig at the local arthouse, she'd already had a mountain of fantasies floating around in her head. She wanted to be tied to the bedpost, she wanted to let him cum on her face. She even wanted to try filming one of their longer sessions for them to watch later. It was a massive relief that they had finished their writing process, and in celebration she derobed and rode his cock for nearly an hour.

A week later, she was drinking a cocktail and waiting for the band to come onstage. Some rat-mustached college freshman was striking the strings of his electric guitar with such jagged rhythm that Lauren feared he would break it in two. He screamed incomprehensible lyrics and seemed to be playing whatever combination of frets he felt like. It wasn't quite music, but it wasn't NOT music either.

He received a piteous applause from the few dozen patrons at the venue, and after a half-assed bow he droned into the microphone, "Now for the main event."

Matt's band walked up to the stage casually to much louder applause and quickly plugged their instruments in. There was no great entrance, but the song began with such a kick that Lauren felt it deserved a proper lighting cue. It was Matt on the bass, plucking at the strings with fingers so fast they were hardly visible. After maintaining that speed for an impressive amount of time, he stopped quite suddenly. Silence hung in the air until at last the guitar, drums, and vocals kicked in all at once with him.

That bombshell singer rasped her way back into Lauren's heart in just a couple words. The lyrics were something about a revolution of thought, a desire to think beyond the names and faces and go straight into the action. Something about it seemed sexual -- or maybe it was just Lauren's libido screaming for more release. Still, she couldn't help but interpret it so. "A little less conversation," Lauren thought.

Around the third song, Matt and the singer were back at it again, funneling performance energy into each other. Lauren noticed that the volume had attracted a few more people into the place, some who looked like they walked in just on a whim. Heads were bobbing now, cheers were coming out during the song. Everyone was watching as her boyfriend looked right into this woman's eyes and chanted out the rage of rock and roll in so many words.

Suddenly it was back. The wink and the jealousy in spectating. Lauren's mind, without her prompting, created a scenario where the singer stopped right in the middle of her lyrics and fell to her knees to pull Matt's cock out from his jeans while he kept on playing. She started licking the impressive length of him, egged on by the cheers from the audience. Before long she was taking all of him into her throat, exhibiting more talent in fellatio than Lauren had ever been able to accomplish. "Fuck," Matt moaned. "This is a real blow job."

The sting lasted a fraction of a second. The eroticism lingered on long after she snapped back into reality and started clapping along with everyone else. "Thank you," the singer said. "That's our show."

Lauren almost felt cheated out of her fantasy. Had she really been thinking about it that long? She must have missed more than half the concert just thinking about another woman sucking her boyfriend's cock in front of a live audience, and doing it better than she ever could. She tried to think more, envisioning her bent over an amp while Matt rammed his cock into her dripping wet pussy or bouncing up and down, tits hanging out from her tight fitting top while she moved her whole body up and down to accommodate Matt's cock.

All the fantasy flashed too fast before Matt was standing with her. "What did you think?" he said. "Hold that thought, we can talk in the car."

He spent some time packing up his gear while the crowd migrated to the bar for more drinks. The singer had nothing to worry about but her own vocal chords, so she went among a few people to mingle. Lauren was caught completely off guard when she approached suddenly. "Hey," she said in a surprisingly clear speaking voice, "You're Matt's girlfriend, right?"

"Uh, yeah, hi! I don't think we've officially met."

"You're right," the singer laughed. "I'm Evie. Rhymes with Stevie."

"I was just going to say -- your singing reminds me so much of Stevie Nicks."

"You're kidding," Evie said. "Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely," Lauren said, reaching out to touch her wrist. When she noticed, Lauren tried not to pull back too suddenly. "But it's also so... unique. It's your own thing and it works so well with the music you write."

"I wish I could write like those guys," she said. "I just do the vocal melodies."

"That's still writing."

"I guess you're right. I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Duh, I forgot to mention," Lauren said, smacking a flat palm to her brow. "I'm Lauren."

"I had a girlfriend named Lauren once," Evie said. Lauren wasn't sure what kind she meant, but was pretty sure just on a hunch.

"Once, huh? I promise not all Laurens are that bad."

"Well, did you ever fuck a girl and steal all her shit?"

"Can't say I have."

"Then you'll be fine," Evie laughed. Then, and Lauren thought she detected some kind of flirtation, she said, "I could use a nicer Lauren."

Matt walked up with his guitar and amp in his hands and said, "At last they meet. Getting along I trust?"

Lauren, a little too quickly, said, "Famously. We were just talking about the finer points of my species."

"Whatever that means, I like it," he said. "Great show, Starry Night. See you next week."

While they were walking out of the door, Lauren asked, "Starry Night?"

"Evie is short for Evening. Her parents were hippies."

On the drive home, Lauren did her best to give feedback on the songs. The first few were hard enough without Evie swimming around in her head. She had a tight little body below those flowing blonde waves; breasts that could fit perfectly in a hand and a figure that looked light as a feather. She looked cut out of a Playboy and pasted onto the stage.

"What about the rest?" Matt asked. "Were they that bad?"

"No, of course not! It's just..." Evie was on her knees, stroking Matt's cock and cooing at Lauren, telling her how good he tasted and how excited she was for his cum. She giggled, and Lauren tried to move closer but found no purchase. Her pussy was dripping, dripping, dripping... and snapping out of the fantasy, Lauren could feel her labia pulsing.

"Just what?"

"Did you and Evie ever... before we dated?"

"Oh, babe, if you think that--"

"No," Lauren said. "I'm not worried something is going on." Then, an impulse away from saying it aloud, she thought, "I'm worried something ISN'T going on."