Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 17A

Aware that Dave had undoubtedly warned Verel against fucking her, Sharon sat pouting on the couch. She told herself she was not going to give them the masturbation scene they were undoubtedly hoping for. She considered calling the frat, but instead curled up, knees and arms hiding her chest, and glared at the television screen. It was a mistake, because the clip that was playing quickly had her entire attention. Kelly and Lisa were dancing, clearly at Go's, and the performance had to be a late set, because at the end of it, the women were obviously openly eating one another out. Then a pair of men-- real patrons Sharon was sure-- were led out onto the stage by other dancers. Each of the men was wearing a Mexican wrestling mask. As the crowd cheered, Sharon watched the women strip their 'admirers' pants off, roll condoms onto their eager cocks, and then together welcome the men between their legs, fucking on stage for the rest of the crowd.

Both women writhed and clutched at their ersatz lovers, the reactions spurring the men on . Sharon knew how to do it, as well as she knew the reactions were feigned, because neither of the men sported equipment that would have left her fellow BZ Bitches that stimulated. Neither man lasted very long, either, although by their grins, and the reaction of the crowd, that did not matter. By the end of the scene, Sharon had forgotten her vow, and was stretched out on the couch, her sweats and panties hanging on one foot as she fervently worked her clit and pussy with both hands, managing to climax twice before she stopped to lay panting on the sofa, aware that the need was still there. And of what was required to slake that thirst.

***

That knowledge and the persistent need prompted the housewife's actions on Saturday. She woke naked on the couch, the big dildo snuggled against her bare breasts. Her first awareness was of arousal. A shower did little to ease that need, and working out on the dance pole before running across campus to the fitness center, and working out, then running back were a temporary and incomplete distraction. But Sharon was confident that her 'dry spell' was coming to an end. She struggled to focus on homework, returning to the campus to do her assignments in the Union away from the television in her place, and marveling that having spent essentially no time in class the prior semester, she was not struggling or lost in her new classes.

She splurged, eating a chef's salad and in preparation for the evening's festivities, buying one of the big chocolate chip cookies for which the Union was famous. Pleasantly buzzed on the unusual sugar and carb load, Sharon went home, exercising again-- naked for the benefit of the cameras-- and then showered again before she began to prepare, carefully applying make up, styling her hair, retouching her make up, and all while trying to ignore, and failing that (repeatedly) trying to... temper her excitement.

Giggling at one point at how wet she was, Sharon got up and padded naked out of the bathroom and filled her pink '#1 Mom' Camelback Eddy with ice and water, aware that she should hydrate. Back in the bathroom, she set the bottle down after taking a long pull, and spun around, looking at herself in the mirror because she was so excited. She drank more, then resumed applying her make up, pausing as she applied lipstick more heavily than she would have ever dreamed about wearing just six months before.

Sharon looked at her reflection: nipples slightly stiff, breasts proud on her chest, her free hand firmly wedged between her thighs, playing with her clit. Staring into her own eyes, the housewife and mother admitted that she wanted what she knew was going to happen... She wanted to feel her ZB Brother's big cocks thrusting into her; she could barely wait for the party. Biting her lip, Sharon's eyes dropped to her wedding ring, and she blushed, but she knew the truth. At some point she had accepted that she needed the black cock provided by the ZB. This was no longer about not having a choice, or more accurately, this now was the only choice she could imagine.

Sharon chose a black thong emblazoned with 'Size Matters' in silver over the crotch, over which she slipped the ubiquitous sweat pants. Pausing, though, she stripped the warm fleece bottoms off, choosing the Umbro black check running shorts with ZB on the ass in red. She considered the strappy tank T, but demurred, choosing instead a red T-Shirt with the mascot on the sleeves and BZB on the front and back, curled over a graphic of big black football, basketball, and baseball players, supporting a busty bikini clad blonde. She tried to remember at which party she had gotten the shirt, but could not pin it down.

Her only concession to the weather was her Ugg boots, rather than the strappy five inch red heels that she initially chose. Putting the heels in a sport bag along with her phone and keys, Sharon looked at her reflection in the mirror, then went out and sat on the couch after grabbing her bong off of the mantle.

The television was still on, still playing clips of ZB members enjoying their bitches, and Sharon struggled not to become distracted as she carefully filled the bong. She made a show of not having the lighter, and went into the bathroom, absently recovering her water bottle, and returned to the kitchen while drinking. She refilled the bottle, tempted to pour a champagne pop or two into it instead, and then snagged her bag off of the kitchen counter, along with her bottle, and went out the front door.

It was a struggle not to shout at the exhilaration she felt, wondering how long it would be before whoever was supposed to be watching her would realize she had left. She checked her watch: 3:35. She giggled, breath visible in the cold air as she started off for the frat. Hugging her arms around her chest, trying to ignore how cold it was, the barely dressed housewife skirted the edge of the campus, ignoring the looks of others walking in heavy coats, and the appreciative honks of the occasional passing car. She was moving faster with each step, but out of anticipation rather than self consciousness.

The frat was only a block off of the campus, but Sharon had made the walk several times, and at least once dressed in little more than she was wearing. That had been in the fall, though, and by the time she was jogging up the curving drive aiming for the frat's side entrance, Sharon's ears were tingling she was so cold. She giggled, knowing that the moment she dropped her arms, her nipples would be playing peek-a-boo through the thin T shirt. She knocked, stepped back, and let her arms drop, striking what she hoped was a fetching pose. After twenty seconds she stamped her foot, cursed under her breath, and rang the bell before resuming her pose. Teeth chattering, aware that she had gooseflesh on all exposed skin, she rang and knocked again after counting to twenty.

Only when she began to open her bag, meaning to dig her phone out, did the door open. She smiled broadly at Samir.

"Sorry if I'm early," she shrugged, "But it's been too long since I was at a ZB party." Samir blocked her way in, instead stepping out onto the porch, to Sharon's confusion.

"You're not supposed to be here," he hissed, looking around. Sharon's eyes widened.

"But Dave said..." She tried to remember, "He said there's a party tonight."

"Not here," Samir shook his head, "You're going to ruin the surprise." Sharon pouted.

"But I've waited too long," she argued, "What does it matter if some of them see the new me," she pirouetted, arms up, chest out, and giggled at the way the young IT genius' eyes tracked her chest, "See?" she said, "It's not bad." Samir shook his head.

"We'll BOTH get in trouble. I've been trying to figure out what happened for ten minutes." Sharon decided she was not going to tell the frat member how she had lulled him into a false sense of security. But even if she had, it would have been difficult her teeth were chattering so heavily.

"Where is everyone?" she complained, then pushed, "Look at me, Samir... I'm practically naked. It's freezing out here... Please let me come inside." The young Iranian ran a hand through his gelled hair, then pressed his palm against his face, shaking his head.

"OK," he said finally, through his hand, "But you have to be quiet, and you have to do exactly what I say." Sharon nodded jerkily, and slipped into the frat behind the smaller young man. She found herself wondering how he could be as well endowed as he was, considering he was shorter than she and her daughter. She knew he could fuck, though, and wondered if she could push him into doing just that as the price for her silence.

Samir was at a loss as to what to do. Most of the members were out, preparing for the party. He had not really heard Sharon knock, but the shifting image of the perimeter cameras had shown her approach. At first he had not answered, hoping she would leave. But she was barely dressed, and it was cold, and he felt bad about her standing out there, or walking back to her place dressed as she was.

His call and text to Dave had gone unanswered, so he had tagged a freshman to watch the cameras, grabbed one of the encrypted walkie talkies they used to communicate across the campus, and had answered the door. Samir checked his cell-- still no response from Dave. There had been no squelch for him to pick up on the other. The frat member glanced to where he knew the cameras were positioned, smiling at the irony that his own contribution to the frat's casino level monitoring system was now a problem for him. Because Sharon looked incredibly fuckable. Her nipples were plain against the shirt, even moreso now then they had been when she had been standing in the cold. Samir told himself it was because of him, rather than considering that ANY of the ZB would have prompted such a response in the too long abstinent white housewife.

He reluctantly led her down into the rec room, ignoring her increasingly plaintive attempts to get him to touch her. When he looped an arm around her waist, urging her toward the big pit group in front of the seventy two inch Panasonic high definition screen, she shivered, and Samir seriously considered taking her from behind the theater seating and damn the cameras and Dave's plans.

Sharon's determination for some action was such that when she realized Samir did not plan to take her to his room to use her, and was very likely going to leave her in the basement, she chose the seat facing the stair, and sat, knees wife, one hand slipping under her top to play with her nipples as the other pulled the leg of her shorts wide, giving the young frat member a clear view of her sex as she pushed her panties to the other side and began to finger herself hungrily.

"Hurry back," she purred, letting her head fall back, and praying that he would not go upstairs. She was frustrated again, but the way Samir was walking as he climbed the stairs made her giggle when she looked up. "Almost," she said to herself, and continued masturbating.

Dave did not call until Samir's throbbing erection had finally begun to ease. After repeatedly assuring his brother that he had not 'sampled the merchandise,' and finally gruffly pointing out that 'sampling' was not the right term for any of the ZB who had already enjoyed Sharon.

"Not the new improved Sharon," Dave answered without missing a beat. "She did us a favor by coming there, anyway," he added after considering the situation, "Is she party ready?"

"Hell, she all but raped me in the basement," Samir laughed, "I don't think she's even buzzed, but she's hot enough."

"Great. I guess it's time to start the party, then," there was real delight in Dave's voice, "Her Rover keys are on the board in the kitchen, or you can bring your car, whichever you want. C'mon out, but wait until the last family have left before you bring our girl in." Samir laughed at the idea of Sharon strutting in while there were still families walking among the exhibits. Dads staring, moms getting pissed at dads, and more than a few kids pointing, 'Mommy why doesn't that girl have a coat on?' He had been skeptical about Dave's plan, but seeing their pet housewife on closed circuit TV was different than in person; the raw need was coming off of her in waves. It was a shame she was going to be so thoroughly used he had already told himself he would likely wait until she had had a chance to clean up. Again he considered his options-- there were no cameras in his little CRX. There really was not enough room to use the pretty blonde, though, either.

He smiled, realizing he could still have some fun with Sharon. He called the blonde to come up from the basement. She was pouting sexily as she did, but she did not argue. He paused in the kitchen long enough to pour the BZ Bitch a big solo cup of 'mind eraser.' Every time he poured one, Samir shook his head, since it was essentially rum punch augmented by Everclear... not a real mind eraser at all. But it did enough to erase co-eds' inhibitions that none of the other frat members paid any attention when he would complain about it. Sharon slurped it down as directed, and did not complain when Samir insisted she wear a hood to serve as a blindfold, which he had grabbed from the closet while she finished her drink.

They took her Range Rover. She jumped when a few minutes into the drive Samir's hand came to rest on her mid thigh, but she also immediately spread her legs, hungry for his touch. He teased her, fingers moving almost to her crotch, then back to an especially sensitive region at her inner thigh about three inches above her knee. Back and forth. She gripped the arm rest, knowing that complaining would earn more of the same. And it was so distracting she had no idea where Samir was driving. They parked after just a few minutes, but at first Samir let the motor run, and Sharon thought it was just a temporary stop. Then she wondered if someone was joining them.

"Where are we? Are we there?" she finally could not contain herself.

"We're here," Samir turned the car off, "But we can't go in yet, so just sit tight." Sharon reached down, finding the lever at the side of her seat, making it recline.

"What should we do while we wait?" She purred, bringing her left hand up under her shirt, lifting the hem suggestively. Samir reached over, teasing Sharon's navel piercing, and smiling at the way the married slut's hips came up, thighs parting. Samir teased her,

"You don't care if the others are missing out?" Sharon shook her head inside the hood. She lifted her shirt still higher.

"Want to see the surprise?" she murmured, "Tell me what you think..." She giggled, when Samir clamped onto her wrist, stopping her from baring her chest. "Afraid of what the other guys would do," she taunted him, "You've got a willing slut right here... I'll suck your cock... Let me suck your cock, baby," she laughed again, as he shook her hand firmly but stopped teasing him. Well, at least intentionally; her hand slipped inside of her shorts, and Sharon absently played with herself as they sat waiting. Samir watched, amused and more than a little hard at her show. When her flat stomach had jumped, demonstrating an orgasm, he reached down, nudging her fingers aside and applying pressure to her clit. Sharon's hips rolled, her ass coming off of the seat, pressing her sex against his fingers.

"Yes!" she husked, "Don't tease."

"So you're ready to party?" Samir asked, his fingers making lazy circles around their pet wife's clit. Her hips pumped at his hand as she nodded.

"Yesss!" she repeated, "I want to party."

"I guess it has been awhile," he paused, ."When did you last have a cock?" Sharon whined softly, as her hand closed on Samir's wrist, trying to increase the pressure of his fingertips on her sex. God, she was hot.

"Too long," she answered after a minute, "I don't even remember. But Dave said tonight we're going to party." She reached under her shirt, working at her right nipple, "Why can't we start now, baby? Give me that gorgeous cock. I won't tell anyone... Please?" Samir just laughed, then released Sharon's seatbelt. No one had come out for ten minutes, and the gates had been closed for longer than that.

"No!" he had to warn Sharon, who had misunderstood and started to lean over toward him, "Wait," he added, then climbed out, circling around to open Sharon's door. She got out carefully and held onto his elbow as he guided her across the parking lot and up onto the sidewalk. She pressed her body against his not out of fear, he realized, but arousal-- anticipation. In fact, as she rubbed against him, Samir looked around, worried that a passing police cruiser might take exception.

He relaxed slightly as they climbed the low steps and crossed under the covered porch, past the closed gift shop and ticket window. He did not approach the entry gate, but continued to the employee entrance The heavy lattice gate swung open as Samir approached, and he saw the grinning faces of other frat members. Some were nearly hopping up and down, they were so excited, but no one said a word, and he did not slow as they went through. Sharon started when the gate closed behind them.

"Where are we?" she asked quietly. At a signal from Dave, who had come up the curved walk to meet them, Samir caught her arm.

"Wait here," he said, "And be patient. You'll find out soon enough." Because she had hold of one of Samir's arms, and his other was on her arm as he spoke, the aroused white wife knew immediately that there were others around when Dave reached out, deftly removing her shorts. She did not resist, even when the big frat member ran a hand up her bare inner thigh, dragging two fingers between her pouting outer labia.

"Mmmmm," Sharon murmured, instead, and reached for the hood. Dave caught her hand. He and Verel carefully stripped her top off, leaving the hood in place, and then a narrow black tube top with 'Size Does Matter' emblazoned in gold was carefully put into place on the blonde's augmented chest. The material was stretched thin, and barely covered Sharon's areolae, pinning her breasts together and magnifying her already impressive cleavage. She giggled, and did not resist, even though she shivered when they had bared her top, murmuring 'We're still outside,' as if they did not know that.

The finishing touch was a butt plug, lubricated to allow easy application, that was unceremoniously thrust into the housewife's back door. She pushed her ass back at the invading toy, whining quietly when it was left in place rather than used as a dildo, and then giggling as the attached tawny tail, a match in color for her dyed hair, down to the darkened tip of a tail swished at the level of her knees when Samir caught her elbow and led her farther down the slightly sloped concrete path, bringing their slut wife to the party.

Naked from the waist down, her new tail swishing against her upper calves, Sharon knew that there were other people around, but no one had spoken yet. Samir avoided the stairs, staying on the sloping handicap accessible pathway as they moved back across the front, past the entrance and exit but from inside the park. Samir was glad that they were set up near the front instead of the exhibits farther from the entrance. They had not gone half way before the stereo kicked on. Sharon immediately began to sway to the pumping beat, and he found himself remembering the way she had been practicing her dancing in her little condo.

Shaun, Rory, and Bernie were waiting, and Samir handed the subdued white wife to the man who had first ruined her, the frat members exchanging their complex handshake. He started to head away, but Shaun gestured for Samir to stay with them, so the young electronics guru followed as the bigger frat member led Sharon off of the path toward where the party was getting underway. For the first time since leaving the frat, they went through an actual door, pausing in a low starkly lit white room. Sharon could feel the change in air pressure and noticed the music became muted. Her hip banged against a rail or table, something cold and unyielding and she slowed, obediently bending at the waist as she was guided through a smaller doorway. Shaun had sent her ahead of him, and let go of her hand, stepping back to close the second door, leaving their hooded housewife crouched in a dark hall. She tentatively reached out, feeling rough irregular walls. The ceiling was so low she could not stand up.