Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 17A

She had her headphones on, and so did not hear anyone approach until a shadow announced someone was nearby. She glanced over to see an older student standing on the treadmill beside her. That was slightly annoying, considering there were at least ten other treadmills, but Sharon was not really surprised, especially considering it was a guy, an upper classman, and that he was openly focused on her.

She intentionally ignored him, aware that her shirt was as effective a barrier to unwanted advances as it was a guarantee of male attention. So she was surprised when he reached over, pulling the magnetic 'safety' off of her unit, which shut it down immediately. Yanking the ear bud from the same side, Sharon glanced at the young man with barely concealed impatience.

"We need your help," he said too smoothly, looking back behind Sharon. She turned to see a virtual clone of the student who was bothering her but bigger... and dumber... was standing on the treadmill to her other side. He had a younger student, a boy who reminded her of Clark from the day before, and was literally holding the younger man by the back of his neck. The smaller student was clearly less than thrilled to be there.

"Can it wait until I finish my warm up?" Sharon pointedly returned the magnet and pressed 'resume' on the treadmill, once again selecting the 6 mph setting. Before it had run for fifteen seconds, the apparent leader reached over, interrupting the safety circuit again.

"Oh, this will only take a minute," he said confidently, "We just need you to let us take your picture with Floyd, here." Sharon frowned at the trio.

"What?" Then she remembered what Clark had said, "I'm sorry I already..." Still looking at the others, she guessed what was happening. She eyed the fraternity crest on the smug asshole's shirt. "Oh. I mean really?" She rolled her eyes, and the young man's smile faded, as if he was surprised she was not jumping to do his bidding. "Let me guess," she shook her head, once again putting the magnet in place, but not yet pressing 'resume.' "You're a member of the frat Clark it pledging." He hesitated, then nodded.

"I guess your big brothers did not explain the way things work to you," he said, and Sharon tried to decide if he had put any stink on the word 'brother' or if his arrogance was all encompassing. "You aren't supposed to make it so easy on the pledges." She snorted, pausing before tossing her hair and fixing each of the trio with a pointed look.

"You're saying it was easy for him to find me," she ticked off the points on her manicured fingers, "To work up the nerve to talk to me... A BZ Bitch?" The boy blinked, and she smiled inwardly that they were surprised at her use of the word. "And he did it by himself, not with back up."

"Oh, we're just here to help Floyd." Sharon wiped at nonexistent perspiration, considered her position. Would they stop her going to the locker room?

"No you're not," she called his lie, "Or your friend wouldn't be holding... Floyd?" she paused looking at the younger student who nodded, managing a smile, "You wouldn't be holding him like that. You're not helping Floyd, you're hurting Clark," she glared at the young asshole, "Or trying to, anyway. But I know what you're doing. If Floyd and I take a picture," she smiled again at the nervous young freshman, "No offense, kiddo, if you'd been faster I would have happily posed with you," and on a thought, "Maybe you should track down my friend, Kelly," she turned her attention-- and associated glare-- back on the pushy prick, "If I agree to that, Clark goes back on whatever shit list you have for the pledges at your frat."

"Hey now, it's no different at your brothers' frat," the smarmy young man countered, "Just ask them when you're over for their next party. But for now..." he held up his cell phone.

"I've already said no. And I've told you why I said no." She hit 'resume' seconds before the timer ran out, and reached for the 6 mph quickset button. Asshole pulled the magnet again. "Look, you're being rude," Sharon growled, no longer smiling, "I said no."

"Like I care what a slut says," the ringleader was leering, now, the fake politeness gone, "Floyd here is going to have his picture with you." Sharon still was not afraid. Angry, yes, but not afraid. From her vantage above the pushy frat brat she was pretty sure she could handle him herself and run into the women's locker room. But then the second student stepped across onto her treadmill, dragging poor Floyd after him.

Before she could choose how to respond, the door at the far end of the room opened with sufficient force that it banged loudly against the wall. Everyone looked that way to see Bernie saunter through. He had his shirt off, ignoring the signs warning all students must wear a shirt at all times, the broad muscled vee of his swimmer's physique impressive in the starkly lit gym. He gave no sign he even saw the other men in the room.

"Hey, Sharon," he smiled, "I didn't know you were coming here to exercise. Damn, girl, you'll have ZB defecting from the athletic center to watch you working out." Sharon smiled, even as she noticed the camera mounted high on the far wall. Somehow they had everything on campus wired up, she thought with surprise, but with equal relief. And she was also distracted from dwelling on that by the pang of arousal the barely clothed ZB had triggered. Without looking down, she knew that her nipples were suddenly tight, and would be obvious through the T-shirt.

"I didn't know you worked out here, either," she smiled, "It'll be much more fun than doing all of this alone." She did not care what the asshole beside her thought... or more accurately, she already knew what he thought. And she realized that it did not matter to her. Bernie shrugged,

The women's crew are using the other pool right now," he lifted his arms, and she could see that his skin was still wet, "I just got out to do some treadmill work," he went on, "Looks like it's my lucky day, 'specially if you're going to come swimming after."

Sharon giggled, "I don't have my suit."

The black athlete smiled lasciviously, "So much the better." He frowned, then, "Hey geeks," The biggest of the trio-- the young man on the treadmill behind her bristled, but he did not argue, "Give my girl some breathing space. She's shit hot, I know, but she already taken." Free of his 'chaperone's' grip, Floyd nearly fell he got off of the treadmill so fast. Still moving away, he nodded his head.

"Sure, sure," he said, "I didn't want to bother her anyway." Sharon winked when he glanced her way and began to stare.

"You didn't bother me, sweetie," she assured him, "But if I were you or Clark, I think I'd find a more friendly place to pledge." Floyd's head bobbed, and she hoped he would tell his fellow pledge what had happened. The hapless young freshman was still staring at her chest, blinking too fast and thinking too little. She smiled, looking to the jerk who had interrupted her.

"Are these fools bothering you?" Bernie was stopped behind the next treadmill, his arms up at chest level, though not folded. Sharon laughed.

"How could they bother me?" she said, "They know that you don't mess with a BZ Bitch." She looked back at the one she was thinking of as 'Lurch,' "Though it would be nice if I could get back to my run. A girl has to stay in shape, you know." Clearly gritting his teeth, the would be tough backed down, and the pair moved together at the foot of her treadmill. She saw that Floyd was at the doorway, watching the exchange. The pair looked from Sharon to Bernie to the exit in the middle of the room. Sharon looked at Bernie, "You don't play stupid games like this with your pledges, do you?" The ZB member snorted.

"Nah. Why play at being a slave holder." Sharon glared at the asshole who had tried to push her around.

"You trying to find yourself slaves?" she asked, "Think all of us are just serfs you can push around?" Of course he did not answer. "Remember what can happen the next time you think about pushing someone around, asshole," she said dismissively.

"Bye, boys," Bernie added offering the smaller young men a humorless smile, "Let's not try this shit again, right?" Sharon had stopped paying them any attention, so she did not see if there was a response. As wound up as she was getting with the sexy ZB Brother standing by her, she chose to resume her workout before she embarrassed herself right there in the rec center. She hit 8, determined to forget how hot she was.

Sharon was late getting home. And she had definitely gotten a core workout, the sort of exercise the white wife found herself hungering for if she went more than a few days without. Bernie had seemed to know what she was doing, and had calmly walked on the treadmill beside her as Sharon ran until the spinning belt nearly threw her off after several minutes at a faster speed than she had ever considered setting the machine before.

In fact, she would have wound up being thrown if not for the big ZB reaching over and removing the safety in much the same way that the frat asshole had before. Except that Sharon was grateful, considering she had been so focused on just keeping herself upright that she had been unable to coordinate pushing the 'cool down' button on the machine, and the idea of pulling the cord and triggering the emergency stop had not occurred to her.

Bernie had used his other hand to steadying the hyperventilating white wife. "Whoa," he was concerned but also obviously amused, "I thought you were going to crash, there" Sharon nodded, then bent, hands on her knees, trying to suck in enough oxygen to help slow her racing heart. "You don't always do that?" he asked with real concern, and Sharon had managed to shake her head. He let her get control of herself, running easily at the 7 mph setting until she managed to straighten up and get a drink of water.

"No..." she swallowed, but by then it was not exertion to the edge of collapse leaving her addled, but her arousal, "I usually... run a couple miles... then do my circuit." Bernie nodded.

"You know they say that's backwards now." Sharon made a face.

"Don't believe what any 'they' tell you," she countered, "By the time you graduate... that will be the way... to exercise again." The big frat member shrugged. "Besides," she added, "You're doing it that way, too." Bernie smiled and Sharon realized he had been teasing.

She had moved away, hoping to push aside her arousal by beginning her circuit. She set the pin where she wanted, focusing on her breathing as she ran through a set of pull downs, paused, and repeated the set. Concerned she would not manage a third set, she moved to the triceps machine and did her first two sets there before returning to the pull down machine. She was surprised as she let the plates settle after the last rep to find Bernie close behind her. His scent filled her nostrils as she looked behind her to the left; he was standing at the end of the short bench, looking down at her.

"Good form," he praised. Sharon could only nod. She bit the inside of her lip, aware that part of her wanted to reach out... "I need to do a couple sets if you're done," Bernie continued. Sharon blinked, embarrassed he was focused on exercise while she was focused on him. "But I'm not sure I can manage it like this," he added, and nudged the prominent bulge of his crotch. Sharon looked up at him, knowing what he was suggesting... exactly what she wanted to do. "It's your fault, too, you know," he held her eyes, and Sharon felt her juices flow.

Without prompting, she had reached out, fingers closing on his erection, trapped in his baggy swim shorts. She shivered in anticipation, and started to rise, but he had set a hand on her shoulder.

"Here?" her voice had sounded small, and she had looked around anxiously, but she was still touching his crotch, too. "Someone could see."

"That didn't bother you at the zoo," he taunted, her, pushing his groin against her hand. "I don't think anyone will give us any trouble, do you?" Sharon looked over at the camera, nervous about who else might watch the feed. But her other hand had already come up, and before she knew it she had pulled his shorts down almost to his knees, freeing his heavy cock.

Turning her head to hide as much as she could from the security camera, Sharon had slurped the mushroom tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue teasingly before applying suction. The big swimmer groaned, letting his head drop back. Sharon began to bob her head, and less than a minute after starting she was swallowing his entire length, body buzzing as much from the forbidden location as from what she was doing. She had a hand buried in her shorts, working her dripping seam, and had long since forgotten about the camera.

She had whined when he began to cum buried in her throat... Sharon wanted him inside of her. She went on bobbing her head and sucking through his climax, only grudgingly stopping when he pushed her away, a heavy bead of her saliva and his jism connecting them before breaking free to splatter her chin. Sharon pulled her hand out of her shorts, and the ZB member pulled his shorts up and moved past her to the curling machine. She watched, impressed as he curled the entire stack with smooth, controlled movements, cranking out a ten rep set. He was watching her as he did, his cock still exposed, she realized belatedly.

"You're gonna distract me again if you keep playing with yourself," he had warned, and Sharon giggled, pivoting mercifully away from the camera to spread her legs as she went on fingering herself. He had banged out a second set, watching her the entire time, and she was certain that he was starting to get hard again, the heavy black snake shifting, hitting lower on his muscular thigh. Sharon watched the big man finish his third set, and then he had stood, his rising cock an invitation as he had moved to the incline bench. "Gonna deny a brother some help?" he cocked his head, then looked at the stack, selecting his weight.

Sharon rose, slipping her hand from her shorts, wishing he wanted to fuck instead of have her blow him again. He caught her thigh as she started to kneel, though, shaking his head.

"Oh no," he nodded at the stack of plates, "I need more help then that... .You'd better lose the shorts." Sharon had skinned shorts and thong off together before he was done speaking. She had straddled him, sighing in delight as her hand caught the shaft of his resurrected cock, guiding him into her drooling cunt. She settled onto him fully, and he had shifted, the movement delicious inside of her, before grasping the bar. He had lifted, his pelvis pushing up to counter what he was lifting, nearly twice Sharon's weight.

She moaned quietly at the more intensive thrust inside of her, which persisted until Bernie began to lower the weight. "Lean back," he demanded, and Sharon did without hesitation, delighted the way he nodded. "Then come up, again," he had directed as he smoothly reversed course, pushing the weight up a second time. Sharon's legs were curled back, feet cinching on his muscular thighs, and the white wife sat back up, that wonderful cock staying buried inside of her but flexing as she kept moving back and forth in time with his reps.

For a tantalizing moment before he would start to lift the weights each time, the root of his cock was pressed more firmly against her clit, a pressure that remained when he released the bar, careful to control his breathing after the first set. Sharon had held still, her body tight, her need having built with each movement, until she knew she was close... If he just stood up... or better yet, she had thought, eyeing the incline bench, just moved them over there...

She had automatically resumed the back and forward motion as Bernie began his second set. By his next pause, the impaled, aroused wife was shimmying against him, tilting her pelvis to increase the pressure on her hungry clit. And by the end of his third set, she was humping against him at the bottom of each rep, and pouted when Bernie released the bar and immediately caught her waist, lifting the white wife off of his jutting erection.

He stood, his cockhead slapping against Sharon's shirt as he moved past her, settling onto the shoulder press bench. He set the plates, then caught hold of the bar, pausing to fix Sharon with a gaze. Hungry to cum, Sharon was standing where he had left her, two fingers steadily working her clit. Bernie cleared his throat, and Sharon blinked, hurrying over.

She started to straddle him again, aware she was so close to cumming, but he stopped her.

"Turn around, little bitch," he directed, and she obeyed. "Now back up... yeah, that's it,. Sharon had automatically caught hold of him, bringing him against, and then into her sex from behind. She arched her back, pushing against him, reveling in the pressure as he filled her up once more. Her hips came to rest against his inner thighs. He was not buried, though, and she wanted more. She heard him begin to lift, his hips rising, too, pushing deeper inside of her. She pressed back, a hand slipping down to finger her clit. As he lowered the bar, his hips dropped back, and he slipped partially out of her stretched sex.

Murmuring in displeasure, she bent her knees, taking him further into her sex again. And when he reversed course, the thrust was deeper. Sharon had found the rhythm by the fifth repetition, leaning back and down, almost fully impaling herself, then coming back up as he lifted, worried he would complain otherwise. The movement kept her at the edge, but without any direct contact on her clit, which seemed to know it was her fingers and not a cock applying pressure, the orgasm she craved stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

When he paused between sets, the aroused white wife humped against him , and he met her movements, almost burying his cock three or four times before resuming the next set. After the third set, he had gently pushed her off once again, moving to the chest press machine. Sharon had bent her knees as he was lifting to find the right level for maximal penetration, and by the time he was finished with his sets, her thighs were shaking enough that she feared she was seconds from being unable to keep from falling back helplessly against the ZB athlete.

The growing distraction of her protesting quads had kept her from cumming once again. Hungry for release Sharon quickly stepped up , lowering her ass, knees tight together, and sitting on Bernie's lap, sighing happily as he filled her completely from behind before he began to do the pec/ fly machine. The swinging arms meant that Sharon had to bend at the waist time and again, essentially working her stomach and back while staying balanced and keeping Bernie's swollen cock fully in her sex. And while it felt amazing, it kept her from fingering her clit, and offered no real pressure against the swollen bead.

The incline bench was right beside them, and Sharon imagined draping herself over the high end to let him finish them both off when his gentle pressure on her ass reminded her he was through and was getting up. His cock slapped between her tight ass cheeks as he stood. Sharon started to turn for the incline bench, but Bernie spanked her bare ass sharply.

"Where do you think you're going?" he taunted, thinking she was headed for the nearby locker room door, "We aren't done yet." Sharon stayed with him.

"Oh I know that," she husked, rubbing against him as he checked the bar on the pull down machine, "I thought you'd want me on the bench..." Bernie just shook his head, leaning down to set the weight on the combined machine where Sharon had started her circuit. She glanced at the equipment, pouting because there would not be room for the lanky swimmer to fuck her while he was doing the exercise. Her fingers steadily worked her seam, thumb tweaking her clit. She clapped her hands when the frat member settled onto the seat backwards, faced away from the weights. She started to turn away from him, thinking a rear entry would be best, but she was going to have to bend her knees so far... Pausing, Sharon shook her head.