Lauren’s Lesbian Life

Note: All characters within this story are above 18 years of age. This is a fictional story and is meant to be read as a fantasy by adults (18+). Any apparent lack of consent is purely a narrative element within this fictional setting and is not meant to reflect acceptable behavior in real life. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story is based in the ‘Saving My Sister from the Frat House’ universe. While technically all of my stories are based in the same universe, reading that story might help you get a better understanding of what the frat is all about and how they create ‘assets’.

A link to that story: https://chyoa.com/story/Saving-My-Sister-from-the-Frat-House.73990

The story:

Lauren was exhausted. She stood at the kitchen sink with her hands in the lukewarm water that had already gone cloudy with soap and bits of egg from breakfast. A lazy afternoon light cut across the tiles. Outside, some neighbor’s mower droned on and on. Inside it was just her, the drip of the faucet and the same thought that had been chewing at her for weeks.

Is this really what I wanted from life?

She’d been married to Todd for two years. From the outside it looked like the sort of life women pinned to vision boards. She was an attractive woman and she knew it, even on days like this when she felt wrung out. Long flowing auburn hair spilled down her back in soft waves, the kind of hair that caught every bit of sun through the window. Vivid green eyes. Fair skin with a faint scatter of freckles across her nose. A body that filled out everything she put on: massive, heavy tits that strained the front of the little pink sundress she had thrown on after her shower, a narrow waist, wide hips and a juicy ass that the thin fabric barely covered. Curvaceous in the way that made men look twice in the grocery store and then look away when they’d been caught. Todd liked it that way. Todd had picked the dress.

Todd himself was the other half of the postcard. Attractive. Successful. Finance. The kind of jaw and eyes that other wives mentioned with a little too much interest at cookouts. He kept getting her whatever she asked for. Jewelry. The good wine. The house with the white counters and the high shelves. The sex was great. That was the part she could not argue with, even in her own head. He fucked her like he owned the schedule. Which, in a way, he did.

So why was she so unsatisfied?

Wasn’t she living the type of life most women dreamed of?

Times like these made it worse. Times when she was home by herself and the house got quiet enough that her own thoughts had room to turn over. She knew her job. Stay home. Keep the place nice. Do her duty as a good homemaker. Dinner later. Laundry already folded in the basket by the stairs. Her body, available when he walked through the door. That was the arrangement. She had said yes to it. She wore the ring. She had stood at the altar in a white veil and smiled.

Todd had fucked her ass hard that morning. That was part of their routine. He liked to start the day that way, before his first call, while the coffee was still brewing. Lauren had been on her knees on the bathroom rug with her cheek against the cabinet and her sundress already hiked up because she hadn’t bothered with panties. He never wanted her in panties during the day. Easy access. That was how he put it. His hands had spread her ass open and he had pushed that massive cock into her hole with no more warmup than spit and the fact that she was already used to taking it. She had whimpered into the wood. He had told her to push back on it. She had. He had fucked her ass until her tits were mashed against the cabinet and her green eyes were wet, and when he came he had done it deep, holding her hips so she couldn’t squirm off it. Afterward she had cleaned him with her mouth the way she always did. Worship. That was the word that showed up in her head whether she liked it or not. On her knees on the tile, sucking her husband’s cock clean after he’d just used her ass, tasting herself on him, swallowing what was left. Then, he had kissed the top of her head, told her she was a good girl and left for the office.

Hours later she was still horny.

That was the part that made her feel sick with herself. Why was she not satisfied even after worshiping that massive cock every morning? Why was her cunt still slick under the dress? Why were these strange desires crawling up the back of her neck when she should have been thinking about what to make for dinner?

Lauren put down the dish she was holding. It clicked against the others in the rack. She washed her hands longer than she needed to, staring at the water running over her wedding ring. Then she dried them on the towel and walked toward the living room.

She had done this quite a few times over the past couple of months. That did not make her feel any less guilty.

The remote was where it always was, on the arm of the couch. She picked it up. Her thumb found the button. She swallowed.