Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 17A

"Looks like they still work," Dave taunted as he opened his bag.

"Mm-hmmm," Sharon agreed, watching him. She was contemplating attacking the young man, no thought of the awful things she had done because of him. "What's happening this weekend?" she waited, but Dave just laughed.

"Oh no, my little BZ Bitch. No spoilers. Besides," he swabbed the underside of her right breast, waving a hand over the wet skin, then finished preparing the small tray he was using for the task, "You may not be ready yet."

"I will be," she argued, "I am. I'm doing chest presses at the gym."

"Well, be careful," he warned, "Maybe crunches, push ups, sit ups, and squats are better for now."

"I don't like push ups," Sharon argued, running a hand up the side of each breast to her nipples, "And these will kind of get in the way..." Dave did not answer. He was carefully selecting the first of the remaining stitches. The knot was different, each suture longer than those that had been ringing Sharon's areolae, and she hissed slightly as he tugged the third out along the line beneath her right breast.

"Hold still," Dave ordered, rather than apologizing. He did add more of the sterile lubricant, though, and after a thought, mixed the lube with antibiotic ointment, imagining that would carry more of the medicine into Sharon's skin as he removed the sutures.

"Then stop hurting me," Sharon countered. But she held still. And soon enough it was done. She cupped the undersides of both breasts as she sat up, a graceful maneuver most women her age could not manage, using just her core muscles. Dave watched appreciatively. He gestured at her arm.

"Worried the implants are going to fall out?" Sharon stuck her tongue out, even though that was exactly what had worried her. She reluctantly let her arm drop, her new improved breasts settling against her chest, hiding the suture lines. She rotated her shoulders, then shimmied slightly, setting the firm globes moving. Dave felt himself getting hard.

"So," he teased the pad of his index fingers over Sharon's still erect nipples, "How are you going to pay for my treatment?" The effect was immediate and profound. Sharon's eyelids dropped, half covering her bright green eyes. Her hands closed on his crotch, even before he had finished. Dave could feel her trembling as he pulled her to him. "Oh, you think this is a good idea?" Sharon nodded her head.

"Don't tease me," her voice was husky with desire, "God I need your cock!" She had unzipped is jeans, fingers curling around his swollen shaft, pulling him free of the denim. "Fuck me, right now!"

"Right here, standing in the kitchen?" Dave feigned shock, although he really did not care where they were... he would have happily put the wood to her on the front lawn. Letting her think she was in control, though, and emphasizing it was her need they were addressing worked to his advantage.

And by the time he had fleetingly considered that, the nimble wife had lifted her right leg, hooking it around his hip to lever herself up, bare breasts pressed tight against his chest as she shimmied her pelvis slightly, hand dipping between her abdomen and his as she guided his jutting cock into her hungry sex.

"Ahhh!" Sharon groaned, head falling back as she settled onto him, not pausing until he was buried. "Don't move," she murmured, grinding against Dave, "God that feels good."

"Better than this?" the muscular young frat member taunted as he caught her ass, lifting her three inches and then dropping her back fully onto his shaft. Sharon moaned, and he quickly repeated the maneuver.

"No," she managed, her dangling left leg scissoring up, cinching her pelvis more tightly against him, "Don't stop... Fuck me!" Dave changed tactics, holding her narrow waist and working Sharon up and down on his cock. He could almost get a tongue onto her nipples at the top of each stroke, and as great as Sharon's velvet pussy felt gripping at his cock, he wanted to enjoy her new toys. Without breaking rhythm, he crossed to the bedroom door. Sharon was not really aware anything was different until Dave bent at the waist, the move dropping the alarmed blonde housewife onto her back on the mattress. She was still impaled, and Dave had left her ass at the edge of the bed, a position that let him drive into her hungry sex more deeply.

"Oh God!" Sharon moaned, hips rising, welcoming his thrusts as he began to fuck into her steadily. Smiling, Dave leaned down, flicking his tongue over Sharon's left nipple, then teasing around the areola before he closed his lips and began to suck. Sharon cried out, her body spasming in orgasm. Her milking cunt threatened to finish him off as well, and it was only with a dedicated focus to his breathing that Dave managed to weather her climax. He went on pumping into her, though, and when she had quieted and he was back in full control of himself, he switched breasts.

"Yess!" Sharon hissed, pushing her chest at Dave's searching mouth as he latched on and began to suck powerfully at her right breast. Almost instantly her body was twitching beneath him and she was cumming again. Dave went on sucking at the nipple and areola, swirling the tip of his tongue over and around her puckered nipple, and Sharon kept jerking and trembling. Her pussy milked at his thrusting cock.

Dave clenched his fingers where he was bracing against the mattress as he heaved over and into the climaxing blonde, aware he was panting, and struggling to regain his own control. He kept moving in and out of Sharon's clenching box, but more slowly. He shook his head angrily; scolding himself-- he had fucked shit hot women... women who had gone on to grace the pages of adult magazines and who had starred in adult films, and he could not remember the last time it had been so difficult to stay in control. This was just Sharon... the too trusting blonde housewife he had bent to the will of the frat. All she had was new tits, it was not really that different...

Dave stepped back, pulling free of Sharon's velvet channel. Lost in her arousal and release, the housewife lifted her ass from the bed, hungry to have him inside of her again.

"Noo!" she whined.

"On your knees," Dave demanded, "Wrap those tits around my cock and show me what you can do." Sharon scrambled to obey, scooting off of the bed onto her knees, and bringing her augmented chest against the black youth's jutting cock. She pressed just behind her areolae, trapping Dave's shaft in her amplified cleavage.

Already slicked with her juices, it was easy to slide up and down. Ann used her quads, her body rising and lowering as she worked her chest over Dave's entire length, the frat member staring down, offering no help. Once she had the balance and rhythm, at the bottom of the next stroke, Sharon tilted her head down, teasing the chocolate crown of his cock with her tongue. The flared edge disappeared, and then the slit of his pee hole as she rose again, not really thinking about what she was doing. She reversed course, the heavy tip spearing up from the pink of her chest, making the aroused wife shudder with lust. She paused to suck hungrily at his cockhead before she reluctantly reversed course once again.

Dave's fists were clenched... Titty fucking was so high school, he had been sure that would let him get a breather. But the aroused wife was so into it the sensation was nothing like what he remembered from fumbling efforts in the back seat of his dad's old car. He resisted the urge to check the clock, aware that everything was being recorded. Looking down did not help; Sharon looked incredibly sexy, blonde hair flying, pale skin glowing, humping herself against him, subservient, her entire focus on his pleasure.

He nearly lost it that first time her lips closed on his cock head. He resorted to the usual fail safes... ugly women, ugly men... demanding women. Basketball plays. Baseball statistics.

He had held on for a couple minutes, long enough that there was more friction, which made the sensation more demanding. He remembered a spinster math teacher from high school who had delighted in torturing the 'pretty boys' as she called any athlete. He smiled, confident that was helping. Who else? Abruptly an image of Professor Eller came to mind. The evil shrew had once nearly derailed his scholarship by her hateful attitude and refusal to help student athletes. But now... thanks to the woman at his feet... The image that filled his mind was of the Professor, panting, begging for cock, a naked, hungry to fuck Sharon playing with herself beside them as Dave made them both his own.

"Arrrgh!" he thrust his hips forward, cock driving up from between Sharon's tits, as he began to cum. She got her mouth over his erupting cockhead, but Dave bent his knees, deftly escaping her hungry mouth; he wanted it on her skin this time. He came for a long time, and when he was spent, his shaft remained cushioned by Sharon's breasts. Dave stood panting before Sharon in her bedroom. Finally he stepped back, and Sharon rose with a groan-- her thighs were burning worse than from any exercise or dance she could remember. She collapsed back onto her bed. She had the fingers of her right hand buried in her still hot pussy, her thumb strumming her swollen clit.

"Fuck me!" she moaned, desperate to feel Dave inside of her again. Dave watched, smirking. He knew he probably could get the sex addicted housewife off with his spent cock, but there was a chance she would want more, and as good as that orgasm had been, and considering Kelly had gotten him off twice before he had come to remove the last of Sharon's sutures, it was going to be awhile for him. And besides, they wanted their pet wife REALLY horny before the coming party.

He reached forward, smearing his cum over Sharon's bare breasts, down over the purple, still healing scars. Dave considered that they were going to have to put blocks under the head of Sharon's bed, so that her breasts would more consistently hide the scars. Everyone would know looking that she had gotten implants, but at least some of the men who were going to be enjoying her would still want to pretend otherwise. He smeared his semen and her saliva over her surgically adjusted areolae, pinching Sharon's swollen nipples. Sharon responded by pressing her chest against his punishing fingers, moaning.

"Have to be later, little Bitch," he told her, stepping back and getting his jeans closed, "I've got to get going."

"But I'm not done," Sharon whined, her left hand absently smearing his jism over her bare breasts as she went on playing with herself. Dave watched, enthralled by the raw sexuality on display.

"We've created a monster," he said, only partly in jest, then stepped around the bed, "Here," he selected the heavy black dildo from her nightstand, "This will help."

Sharon pouted, but did not hesitate, slipping the rubber phallus fully into her dripping sex. She licked her lips, putting on an obvious performance with the dildo, lifting her legs, flexing her knees out wide.

"Don't you want to do this instead?" she taunted, "You've cum already, so you could fuck me so good now, baby..."

"You don't give up," Dave laughed, "Keep it warm.. Friday will be here soon enough." And then he was gone, leaving the entrapped housewife to get herself off.

Sharon's arousal never really disappeared after Dave's visit. She played with herself constantly, not caring that it was all certainly entertaining the frat members and who knew who else. She practiced dance moves in the small space between the kitchen table and the couch, then alternated between ginger squats and crunches until it was dark, going to bed early, remembering Dave's claim... Friday was only two days away.

Sharon woke to a smoldering need Thursday morning, and showered, masturbating twice before she even considered leaving to exercise. She sat impatiently through her classes, having difficulty paying attention because in each class she saw ZB members and so spent most of the time fantasizing about what they might do to her, or remembering what they HAD done to her.

Her second trip to the fitness center was a needed chance to release stress, and she found herself pushing more than in the days before the sutures had come out, having to remind herself several times not to push too hard. At least she did not have the distraction of any of the frat members, though she mused that she really was a monster when she found herself eyeing a pair of hapless geeks trying to figure the equipment out with more than a passing fancy. They were barely older than her son, after all.

The recognition she had honestly considered propositioning strangers for sex shocked the mother and wife enough that Sharon chose not to shower before leaving the complex, tucking her hair back in a ponytail and trusting her scarf to hide the fact that she was not impeccably made up. She never realized that with or without make up she was easily one of the most beautiful women walking the campus, and thanks to her affiliation with the frat, one of the most recognized. While most of the other students had no idea just how much they could see of their fellow classmate by just a few clicks of the mouse, she and the other BZ Bitches were nearly as recognizable as the school's cheerleaders. .

Having convinced herself she must reek after her work out, Sharon had determined to skip the Union's coffee shop and head straight back home, but her trip was delayed as she passed through the study hall. She saw someone waving a hand, but paid no real attention until her name was called.

"Whoa, Sharon!" she pulled up, looking around self consciously, seeing heads dip as students tried to hide that they had been staring. She told herself it was because Rory had called to her. Pretending she had not noticed, the wife and mother changed course, approaching the table where the ZB was studying. She found herself wishing it was Tom, and that there was an available study room.

"How are you liking the new semester?" Sharon blinked, surprised at Rory's clumsy attempt at small talk. She was tempted to point out he had already been inside of her, but shrugged instead.

"I'm not sure I need all of these classes," she had sat through physics, history, and Spanish II, wondering during the last how she was supposed to have learned what was required from Spanish I, "Or if they're the right ones, I guess I'll have to ask Dave."

"If we got them set for you, they're right," Rory assured her, confidently, "You're in my Lit II course, aren't you?" Sharon nodded. "Have you read the assignment?" She shook her head.

"But I've read the whole trilogy already," she added, "Why, what's up?" Rory still seemed distracted, and not, to Sharon's dismay by his staring at her. He closed the math book that had been open in front of him-- a Playboy was tucked inside, she noted.

"Well, when I saw you, I figured we might as well do that review sheet.

"It isn't due until next Thursday," Sharon was puzzled; none of the frat members were ever worried about homework until it was almost due. But she did not argue, and for more than thirty minutes she and Rory pored over the short answer page that had been handed out with the assignment. The fact that she answered all of the questions never registered, because that was always the way homework was done with the frat. They still had three questions when Rory nodded his head,

"Okay," he said although Sharon had said nothing, then grabbed his homework and stuffed it into a worn binder with various doodles scattered over the cover. "Thanks, Sharon, I have to get going." The blonde housewife was left alone at the table before she really knew what was happening. Shaking her head at the strange turn of events, she quickly finished her own homework before she headed on home.

Stepping through the door, she unsung her bag, meaning to toss it onto the kitchen table. Except that the table was gone, as were the chairs. She glanced across to the television and stereo, but both were there, just as she had left them. It was only when she stepped further into her little place, frowning at the place where the table and chairs had been that she saw it. There was a dull brass pole that ran from the floor to the ceiling... the same sort of pole that she used at Snake Eyes. She went into her bedroom, checked the bathroom, but the house was empty.

She pulled her phone out of her bag, certain this was something Dave had planned, but wanting to be sure. The cell vibrated in her hand before she could unlock it to dial. She glanced at the number, seeing it was the frat.

"Hello?"

"Are you home yet?" Sharon considered telling Dave to look at his video feed. She should have known he already was.

"I just got home from class... and studying."

"So what do you think?"

"What am I supposed to think?"

"Well, I figured it may take some time to get your balance and your conditioning back," Dave said after an exasperated pause, "I thought you liked dancing."

"I do," Sharon paused then, embarrassed that she did, "... I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but where am I supposed to eat?"

"I figured you usually eat watching TV anyway," Dave told her, both of them knowing he was right, "And you've got a big coffee table."

"What if it comes down?" Sharon remembered a video on some television show where that had happened.

"Oh, it's not coming down," Dave assured her, "That was put up as well as the poles at Go's." Sharon doubted that, but when she grabbed it, there was no give.

"So can I use this now?"

"There's nothing I read that says you can't," Dave told her, "Just see how it works... Take it a little at a time." Sharon caught hold, letting her weight fall away from the pole, but poised to step out if there was any discomfort. The spin felt familiar and there was no pain. She smiled.

"It doesn't hurt."

"Good," Dave praised, "But maybe you should have both hands free." Sharon recognized the wisdom in that, even though the idea of starting a routine talking on the phone began to take shape as she pulled up, spinning a second time around the pole with more velocity. "And Shar,?

"What?" she slowed at the tone in his voice.

"Don't overdo it... We're looking forward to a party this weekend, remember?" And then he was gone. Sharon took to spinning around the pole whenever she passed it to enter or leave the small kitchen. And then during commercial breaks when she was watching television. She quickly found that rotation was not a problem, and she could use her feet to spin up off of the floor, but she was not yet up to the stress needed to actually raise her body in the more acrobatic maneuvers that before the Christmas holidays had been easy to accomplish. And it was not just discomfort; the pain kept her from pushing her attempts, but she could also tell she was not as strong as she had been.

She tested push ups, and finding them tolerable, added them to the sit ups and crunches she was doing at home. She was determined to recover her upper body strength, and resolved to add to her exercises at the gym, as well. She skipped dinner, alternating between snippets of routines that she knew by memory and her exercises, none of which addressed her real need.

Sharon went to class again on Friday, but her anticipation of the coming party kept her from really hearing anything the professors said. She repeatedly found herself staring at one student or another-- not even ZB members-- and fantasizing about having sex with them. At least the TA in her last class was reasonably attractive, so he occupied her fantasies, and that meant it seemed like she was paying attention. In fact, her attention was so intent that the young man noticed, and became flustered.

Sharon pushed herself at the gym, backing off only when her efforts bordered on pain. She stopped in the Union, hoping to find a frat member interested in 'studying.' Failing at that, the smoldering housewife opted to eat a chicken Caesar salad in the cafeteria before heading home. Once there, she did more exercises, worked out on the pole, and then used her bong before she began to get ready for the night's festivities. Although she had gotten herself off between classes in the ladies room, in the locker room at the gym, and at home before and after her additional exercise, she masturbated twice more using the handheld shower head before she climbed out of the shower and toweled off, critically eyeing her hair. It was past time for a cut, she knew, padding naked out of the bathroom to the phone by her bed. She blinked, surprised the big rubber dildo was not in the drawer, and blushing, she tucked it away as she dialed the frat.