Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 17A

"He won't turn her out?" Dave looked over, surprised she knew the term.

"To the frat?" he was careful with his tone, "He isn't even in college yet." Sharon rolled her eyes behind her closed lids..

"That didn't stop him from sharing me with his friends..."

"Yeah, but he already knew you were... generous that way." He pulled up at the curb, "For now just relax... think of it as a vacation from your duties at the frat and Go's." She sat up, wincing.

"When will I have to dance again?" Dave shrugged...

"The instructions said a few weeks... I think we'll let you tell us." Sharon seemed surprised by that.

"What if I say I'm not coming back?" He laughed.

"I think you would miss us..." he adjusted his crotch suggestively, "At least part of us too much." Sharon's lips thinned, but she did not argue. Dave hopped out, went around the back, grabbing Sharon's bag, then helped their prize Bitch into her place. He checked that the fridge was stocked, turned on the television, and paged through the mail that had accumulated, left on the kitchen table by the BZ Botches that had helped keep things up when Sharon was gone. Sharon had stumbled into her bedroom. He saw her standing at the foot of her bed, looking at it like she might lay down. Instead, she turned awkwardly and ambled into the main room. Her eyes went to the television.

"I don't suppose you have a disc of me and the doctor already." Dave laughed.

"Naw... And I'm not sure we got much useable footage from there or from the rest of your partying in Vegas," he lied seamlessly, "But we'll get you a copy of whatever I can splice together and clean up. Besides, that might get you hot and bothered. As much as I might like that, I don't think that's allowed for right now."

"Since when do you follow the rules," Sharon slurred her challenge. She had a hand pressed against her sex again.

"Since screwing up those perfect new breasts would get me in trouble with just about everyone," Dave answered, "Maybe in a day or two I won't be able to hold out any longer."

"Right," Sharon shook her head, "Because there's no one else getting you off whenever you want." Dave did not rise to the bait, gesturing instead at the mail.

"Looks like you've got some bills. Set them aside, we're taking care of you." With her money, of course.

"I can pay my bills."

"Sure, but you're busy dancing and entertaining and flying to Vegas, remember? Let us take care of it, just like we're investing what you earn at the club, remember? Geez, maybe you took too many of those pain pills." He picked up the little envelope they had given Sharon, and poured the tablets into his hand. Sharon stuck her tongue out, moving out of the doorway toward the couch.

"Dave?" she sat heavily, moaning at the pain the sudden movement caused.

"What, Shar?"

"Can I smoke while I'm on the pills?"

"I don't see why not," he shrugged, "But go easy, okay... that isn't cheap." She did not need to know that was not true. He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed their pet white housewife, enjoying the way she began to get into it despite knowing they were not supposed to actually do anything. "See?" he teased her as he broke it off and headed to the front door, trying not to laugh at the way she had been struggling to roll a joint in her lap when he had interrupted her, "I told you you'd miss us."

Sharon did not answer. She did not acknowledge Dave's departure, focusing intently on getting the joint rolled just the way she had seen guys at the frat do it. After the fourth try she was tempted to use her bong, but it was all the way over on the mantle, and she was too sore to go after it. She managed after a fashion, lit up, and enjoyed several hits before she carefully put the joint out, aware of Dave's warning. She lay back on the couch, enjoying the floaty disconnectedness, and giggled to herself.

'Takes care of the pain as well as the pills,' she said to no one in particular.

After awhile... Sharon realized she had been staring at the blank television screen, she decided that she was hungry. She was embarrassed that she was so zoned after taking the pills. She was not going to keep taking them.

But then she tried to stand, and the shimmer of pain over her chest was reminder enough that she immediately considered getting another pill to take with whatever she ate. She wished she remembered when she had last taken one. She paused, relighting the joint, then gingerly went into the kitchen, enjoying cold pop tarts and an individual serving bottle of orange juice she found in the fridge. She fixed a glass of ice water, collected the mail and the pills Dave had left there, and went into her bedroom... a nap sounded like just the ticket...

***

January was gone before Sharon could think about it. She was almost impossibly sore when she woke, the day after her trip to Vegas, but the fact that the exhausted housewife had slept through Sunday afternoon and Sunday night, into the afternoon of Monday was the biggest reason-- she had been without her pain pills for nearly twenty four hours when a protesting bladder roused her. And then Sharon had sat up without considering what she had undergone-- she still had not really been awake. She had immediately clutched at her chest, whimpering at the new pains the pressure of her arm added to the fiery burst her inadvertent movement had triggered. She had nearly wet herself it was so bad, and resorted to the lamaze training of nearly two decades before to ease the throbbing hurt, her awareness focused on the fear that she had felt one of the implants shift.

When the pain had ebbed, Sharon moved gingerly out of the bedroom to get another pill. That took precedence over relieving her aching bladder. The packet said to take one or two, and she stopped at one. She had seen the news reports claiming it was easy to get hooked on prescription pain pills. She was also more careful to stay medicated after that experience, but did not take them at the 8 hour 'schedule,' waiting instead until the pain was threatening to become a problem.

Her caution was also wise because there were not many pills to begin with; the envelope had the number '20' scribbled on the outside, but when she went to take the next dose at bedtime Monday night, she found only eight remained inside.

And she had additional resources; there was marijuana in the tin on her mantel, and the weed definitely helped. Sharon spent Monday night giggling at reruns of the namesake show on HBO, glad that her situation was not as desperate as that mother's.

There were exercises that the paperwork she had been given recommended she do at least twice a day to keep from scarring causing contraction of the implants; a sort of side to side rocking plank that was far too painful to do on Monday or Tuesday. Gritting her teeth, she did the ten reps to each side on Wednesday, then decided it was time to shower, to get rid of the cold sweat that had sprouted as she fought to do the exercise despite the pain.

The water felt strange, triggering pins and needles sensations across her breasts, but the sensation passed, and Sharon carefully washed at the incisions. She was surprised to find that the keyhole incision she was certain the doctor had shown them was not in evidence. Instead, there was a fine suture line around each areola, and a separate semicircular incision beneath each breast. Remembering the visible scar pointing down from each nipple in the photos, Sharon was glad for the change when she got out of the shower, examining herself in the mirror. The sag of her breasts hid the implant scars, and she hoped the scars at the edges of her areolae would not be obvious.

First in the mirror and then lying nude on the bed, Sharon had carefully examined each of the enhanced breasts. She was surprised and very relieved that neither nipple was numb, although the sensation on the right side was... different. Nothing she could define, but not what she remembered. And there was a portion of that breast that was numb on the lower inner side. She discovered a smaller numb area on the left breast just outside the areola at the three o'clock position. But both nipples worked... She blushed at the drug hazed memory of what she had done with the doctor, so of course they worked... but she had worried; she remembered some friend once insisting that the women who had implants did so at the cost of their nipples ever getting hard again. Aware of the relief she felt at proving that untrue, Sharon could admit that she had been afraid of what it would mean for her sex life. And she scolded herself for listening to such wives' tales, especially since she had proven they worked not two hours after the surgery was finished.

She was already considering them 'her breasts,' rather than 'the implants.' After answering emails from her husband and kids on Tuesday she had briefly worried what Chris would say. She was angry that he had gotten high or drunk and had been passed out on New Years, even if it meant she could get down to the party; irrationally she knew she found herself blaming her husband for her seeing their daughter being taken by the same boy who had fucked her, earlier New Year's eve day.

Things had been strained to say the least between she and Chris on New Year's Day. She had been surprised to find he actually thought they had had sex in their room before he had passed out completely, and he had been evasive about what he had done at the party when they had been separated, but while it made Sharon wonder, she was in no position to press him about it. In fact, she was puzzled to find that she was not really worried about how her husband would react to her new breasts.

She lay naked on the bed playing with her breasts... and then more earnestly fingering herself to a satisfying climax before she got up. The once demure housewife did not bother with a robe, wandering into the small kitchen to get a bite before returning to the main room to use the bong and watch some television.

It was a pattern that became her norm. Late in the first week, surfing through the expansive satellite channel list, she found a new station. Actually, she selected the channel by entering the numbers on the index card she found under her remote. Although she wondered for a moment, sure it had not been there the day before, she had to admit that she had not really been paying attention, and so it could have been there from before she returned from Vegas. She had been surprised when the screen asked for a code, and checking the card again, she saw a four digit code had been included.

When she hit the enter button, the screen blinked, then showed a high angle image of a hot tub. There were several young black men splashing and horsing around, and after watching for a minute, Sharon realized she recognized Bernie and Jamal. The others were sitting facing away from her, but with an intimate certainty, she was sure that she knew them, as well. The door opened just then, and Sharon watched Mary Gardner enter, carrying a tray loaded with beers and snacks. The brunette was wearing a bikini that left nothing to the imagination.

Sharon smiled, pleased that the other woman was heavier. Her smile faded, though, seeing that the brunette's breasts were at least as big as her own.

Sharon glanced down, frowning at her augmented chest, and found herself wishing she had chosen bigger implants. Looking at the screen again, she understood how the other woman had known what to do to help her-- there was no way those breasts were natural.

Mary set the tray on a stand and moved back toward the door, pausing before she exited and turning to ask her ZB guests if they needed anything else. She squealed like a school girl as the guy sitting closest to her, his back to Sharon, caught her by the nearest thigh, easily pulling the brunette into the hot tub. The others moved in when she surfaced, spluttering and giggling. In seconds she was naked, biting her lip in faux innocence and obeying her guests varied demands as she moved from one to another in the hot tub, holding a breast up for one to suck, then sucking at her engorged nipples herself for another, working the next young stud's cock under the frothing water with both hands, and then willingly plunging her face into the water to suck at the next cock before moving back to the first.

Sharon watched with growing arousal as the ZB kept their new toy moving quickly around the tub, sucking one after another. When she came up after making two circuits, asking to wait so she could catch her breath, Bernie lifted her out of the water, supporting her on his shoulders as he ate her to an obvious orgasm before letting her splash back into the tub to resume servicing he and the others. They changed the pattern though... whoever was behind her played with her ass and pussy while she was using her mouth.

The intimate knowledge of what the other woman was experiencing already had Sharon masturbating on her couch; she had not even waited long enough to retrieve one of her dildos from the nightstand.

She came before the ZB tired of what was happening. Bernie was the first to change things again. As Mary dutifully went to work on the cock before her, Bernie moved forward in the tub. The brunette had grown used to being fingered and fondled, so it was a surprise when instead he lined his cock up and thrust it up in to her cunt. Sharon groaned and began fingering herself more frantically, noting that the other woman easily took Bernie's impressive shaft without any trouble. Watching the action, she jealously wished she had been able to visit one of Mary's pool parties. She thought Dave had said something about that... the idea of a hot tub where she could do that away from the frat was by itself enough for Sharon to get off again.

She never considered that Mary Garner's home already had enough cameras that the neither she nore the divorcee's identity could ever really be hidden. At that moment, three fingers buried in her hungry pussy, Sharon would have let Bernie and the others fuck her on the kitchen table in front of her family. And thinking that, the still high white wife giggled that at least one of them would understand.

As the busty brunette was getting passed around the hot tub being 'spit roasted' repeatedly, Sharon tore herself away from the action long enough to grab not one but two of her dildos. She spent the next thirty minutes mimicking what she was seeing on her television, and challenging herself to be better at getting the ZB off than her rival. She was delighted that the cameras switched when Bernie scooped the brunette up, slinging her over his shoulder and heading out of the hot tub room. She and anyone else watching the ZB's private feed were treated to a bird's eye coming and going view as the lanky swimmer walked straight out into the back yard, steam rising from his naked body as Mary squealed. He jumped into the woman's obviously heated pool, bringing her along.

Mary gasped at the change from hot tub water to heated but still cooler pool water, but she offered no resistance as the taller man easily slipped under her in the water, coming up to impale her and then stroke across with the brunette squealing that it was cold, most of her body out of the water. Even so, she eagerly humped herself against Bernie's spear, laughing when he reared up in the far end of the pool, reversing position and pinning her against the wall as he began to fuck her in earnest.

The others had followed by the time Bernie finished, clearly emptying himself inside the older brunette who took the load without hesitation. Jamal complained that it was too cold and their cocks would shrink, which made the homeowner giggle, insisting that they would still be more than big enough to get her off. Bernie back stroked away from the naked brunette, answering that he had to get to hit the weight room, while the rest could enjoy their new BZ Bitch all afternoon.

Verel and Jamal easily pulled Mary dripping and naked out of the pool, setting her on the side. Shivering almost violently as her body steamed, she asked if they wanted to go back to the hot tub, but Verel suggested they visit her shower and then her bed.

As the quartet went inside, Sharon expected the camera to follow as it had before. Instead, it cut to a different room. Two ZB were playing some X-Box sports game on a big flat panel television. Kathy and Lisa's head bobbed in their laps. Having gotten herself off again, Sharon reluctantly changed the channel, wondering if there was simply always someone having sex that the ZB could promote. She was acutely aware that it had been too long since she had enjoyed a real cock.

Even with the instant on arousal she could enjoy by turning to the ZB channel, or maybe because of it, Sharon found herself increasingly frustrated. Her forced abstinence was worse than what she remembered experiencing after she had begged Dave and Shaun not to record her sexual activities. Clearly that had been ignored, but she found that it did not bother her; the memories of all the men and women who fucked on video for a living and yet were normal friendly funny people had stripped away much of her anxiety about being found out. And Chris' obvious inattention over New Year's left the housewife anxious to enjoy one of the frat's voracious sex parties.

She tried to get ahold of Dave to tell him just that, but he did not answer, and the messages she left at the frat went unanswered, as well. So the housewife and frat sex toy wandered her small place, eating , watching television, doing her exercises, and masturbating. The last three pain pills sat on the table, unneeded. Sharon was increasingly bored and more persistently horny, not to mention lonely, not necessarily in that order.

During the first weekend of her exile, Sharon threw on some clothes, selecting three separate shirts because wearing a bra was both uncomfortable and difficult given her new bust line and the limited selection she had available. The realization made her pause, going online long enough to buy some new lingerie that she hoped would fit before she went out the front door, meaning to drive to the frat. Or maybe home. Or out to Snake Eyes, she was not really sure.

She stopped, not completely surprised to find her Range Rover was gone. After blinking stupidly on her porch for several seconds, she went back inside and angrily dialed the number to the frat. She asked for Shaun but after a minute Dave answered. She asked where her car was and Dave laughed,

"Well shit, little Bitch, where do you think you're going?".

"I thought I'd come over," she said, acutely aware that she was dripping wet at just the thought, even though she had not been sure where she was going minutes before. She shook her head, aware that she was a mess.

"Not yet, sugar tits," Dave said, "You aren't cleared to use those new weapons, yet." Sharon pouted, almost telling him that she HAD been using them at home. But she knew he would not have changed his mind... And given the various clips and videos that she had seen playing at different hours on the ZB channel when it was not covering live sex parties at Mary's house, she knew there were cameras all over her place, anyway.

"Well then, I need to go get some groceries."

"We'll get you supplied," Dave answered without missing a beat, "I'll bring some things over tonight at the latest."

"I could go see the girls at the club," she said, already knowing the answer, "Or just to Kelly's. I'm bored." She knew she sounded like her kids, but it was true.

"Nope and nope," Dave told her, "Remember, we're saving the unveiling for the welcome back party." Sharon wanted to tell him she did not remember that; she was sure he had never said anything like that to her.