Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 18

"So how is he, sugar?" Fallon dead panned, even managing to snap her gum at just the right moment.

"I don't..." Jazmyn rolled her eyes, realizing the veteran dancer had been teasing, "I read it somewhere." Glory was smirking at the newbie openly. "She said there's no real man in Hollywood," Jazmyn added to bring the others up to speed.

"And everyone knows the cock makes the man," Fallon nodded, the sarcastic support further nettling the skinny younger dancer.

"It may not make the man," Sharon offered without thinking about it, "But it can sure make the girl happy, can't it, Jazmyn?" The younger woman started to nod, then caught herself, looking around at the others as she blushed. She was new enough she was not making trips to the back room... yet. Sharon could see her trying to decide whether it would be better to admit that she enjoyed big cock or to pretend size did not matter; or that she did not know.

"Jaz and I are gonna have to do spring break in LA," Glory said, coming to the new girl's rescue. She draped a toned arm over the girl's thin shoulders, "Maybe we can find out if what she heard is true."

"Well check out Tommy McGuire, then," Fallon suggested, "I heard somewhere that he's packing, too." The conversation quickly devolved as the women called out other stars' names, adding 'friend of a friend' or 'know a girl' assertions of credibility to just who was hung in Hollywood.

Sharon was tempted to mention her own experience in Vegas, but she had a sudden image of Jazmyn and some of the others being shocked she had balled a porn star- not that she was admitting to extramarital sex- the BZ Bitch never considering she herself would have been embarrassed at merely hearing the conversation a few months before.

As tales of local celebrities began to be discussed, she considered pointing out that Go had more than any of the pretty boys her fellow dancers were gossiping about, but it would be poor form with a newbie in earshot, and especially because considering she was hoping to get the club owner all to herself sometime during her shift, Sharon recognized that mentioning his gift might tempt one or more of the others to make a play for his attention, as well. For that matter, Sharon was not sure if the club owner enjoyed all of his dancers like that, or just the BZ Bitches. She knew better than to believe it was just her. Regardless, mentioning it would be a stupid thing to do.

Thinking about the club owner, Sharon had unconsciously brought her fingers back between her thighs. She caught herself, checking to see if anyone had noticed. Sharon doubted Jazmyn had yet been asked to 'entertain' Go like that. She imagined the big club owner might ruin the youngster. And she knew that many of the dancers just danced... Most, probably.

There were whispers and sidelong glances toward the man trap separating the club from the back room, but showing too much interest quickly earned less than pleasant challenges by the bouncers or the club manager; she had even seen Go sharply reprimand a promising young dancer once. And there were the girls who simply disappeared, sometimes during a shift, sometimes without retrieving their things. Her brow furrowed as she wondered what had happened to the almost too cute blonde, a coltish girl with too short hair who had won a prior amateur night and had then asked to dance more regularly.

Sharon tried, but she could not remember the girl's name. And she knew better than to ask the other dancers about it. 'Don't ask, don't tell,' seemed to be the accepted approach at the club, albeit with a more immediate and perhaps brutal response to violations than the military employed. .What was it her son kept saying after seeing some mafioso series on cable? 'Snitches get stitches.'

Besides, so many things had changed at the club that Sharon still felt like a rookie herself in many ways. She had been a little disappointed her first night back to see that none of the posters showing her dancing or posing remained. There were not even the signs that mentioned she was one of the regular performers. She sighed, her mind returning to her first night back at the club...

She had done a solo set to open the night, and had been tentative and overly cautious, but the men had lined the rails the moment that they had realized who it was... well, no, the moment that they saw the new improvements. That had gotten their attention. And that attention had kept her busy on the floor until it was nearly time for her next set. She had done a duo with Kelly, more quickly falling into familiar patterns with her younger lover, and the men had been shouting for more as the third song ended with Kelly sucking one of Sharon's enhanced boobs, while teasing her pierced nipple with her fingernails.

Sharon had pounded several drinks down even before the first set to help take the edge off of her anxiety at performing again, and had enjoyed several more back stage toasts with the other dancers who had welcomed her 'home.' It had meant her self-control was decreased enough that she had been truly aroused by Kelly's knowing touch at the end of their dance, and Sharon had been slow to get up, the unintentional but obvious demonstration of her arousal leaving the men howling. There had been demands for lap dances once again, and the bouncers had stayed busy keeping her many admirers in line.

Sharon had been looking for Go from the moment she had arrived at the club, but the office was dark, and he was not lounging in his usual seat. Sharon had been puzzled, but knew he was not always in the club. While the response of the customers was wonderful, she had really been looking forward to how the big club owner would react. The crowd was so excited, though, she had barely had time to wonder about it that first night back. Instead, she had found herself alternating between stage sets and working the privates, and after the back room opened' at 10, she had switched between the stage and her more... intimate dancing.

And of course once everyone at the club and frat were convinced she was 'back,' Sharon had found herself entertaining guests at home, too. She answered the door at least four times a day, as well as playing naked horny hostess to a steady stream of 'admirers' on the evenings she was not working. Her schedule had her dancing at the club four nights a week. And when she was not dancing or taking care of men at her place, she was tutoring frat members at various intervals during the day and even some nights, at least in the early evenings before her 'fans' began to arrive. The first such study session had been nearly as memorable as the first day with Tom in the Union study hall.

She had been amused when she answered the doorbell to find a ZB Freshman she knew only by his first name- Davonte- standing on the porch. Well, not amused; first she had been excited, because it had been three days since she had enjoyed a real cock. No, she had been amused when she had realized he had something other than sex in mind. He had turned into the breakfast nook, obviously expecting a table where he could set his book bag. He eyed the pole in puzzlement, and Sharon had pointed to the coffee table. He sat on the sectional and her amusement had grown as he unzipped the Under Armor backpack, withdrawing a dog-eared Literature Basics text and asking for her help with his assignment.

Sharon had assured him she was happy to help, though she had wrinkled her nose at the novel he pulled out next.

"What?" he had asked, quickly becoming defensive, "You can't help me?" Sharon had rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I can help you," she had assured him, "But it won't make that a better book." Davonte was clearly unconvinced. "Have you read any of it?" Sharon had challenged and he grudgingly admitted he had not.

"I tried, "he had temporized, "But it's boring." Sharon had asked how far the class had read, and when he showed her, she had snorted.

"Boring? That's where it all falls apart," she had insisted, "Tess of the d'Urbervilles is a thoroughly unhappy book. But where you're at is where the story turns."

"What?" Davonte had read a few pages at the end of the chapter where Sharon indicated, and then continued into the next chapter. "What are you talking about?" he had asked, puzzled, "Nothing happened."

"She's pregnant!" Sharon had countered.

"Oh, well yeah, but," he had paged back, "I don't see where it happens." He had dropped the book on the coffee table, "Dammit, the prof said this was a banned book, I didn't know I got a censored copy." Sharon had struggled not to laugh.

"It's not censored," she had assured him, "At least, not like there's an edition out there with a chapter out of the Kama Sutra." She had giggled again at his confusion, "That's a Middle Eastern book dedicated to all things sexual," she had explained, "Tess is shocking for even addressing pregnancy out of wedlock. That's as close as they got to writing about illicit sex when Hardy was alive. Well, at least as something they would call literature," Sharon had opted not to mention some of the stories she remembered from classes long years before. "Actually his even getting that close to the topic was considered scandalous." It had been Davonte's turn to snort.

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. Victorian England was pretty reluctant to admit to the existence of extramarital sex, much less rape, even if it was an every day occurrence.

"Rape?"

"She's asleep." Davonte just looked at her and Sharon gritted her teeth. "C'mon, I know you've had the introductory meeting. All freshmen do. If she's asleep it's the same as if she's drunk- if she can't say yes, it's the same as saying no."

"So that guy gets arrested?" Davonte had grabbed the book up again.

"You really should at least read a synopsis," Sharon had urged, before relenting, "No, he isn't arrested. The whole story details the world taking advantage of Tess, and keeping her from being happy."

"Bitch should fight back," Davonte's answer had struck a note with Sharon's impression of the novel.

"I don't think Hardy thought much of women," she had said by way of agreement, "She never does anything decisive until the end, when she resorts to murder."

"No shit!" Davonte was suddenly more interested.

"No shit," Sharon had assured him, "But that doesn't mean it's a happy ending." They had gone through the story including what would happen beyond the point in the book that Davonte's class had reached. The young man had been surprised that characters and events in the book had (at least according to modern literature professors) specific meanings and references to the real world.

"Is that true of these others books?" he had asked, digging in the bag for a moment before pulling out a used copy of 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.'

"Another winner," Sharon had rolled her eyes, "That book is supposedly full of allegory and double meanings but I cannot honestly tell you I read the whole thing." She paused, "Does that mean your class already finished that one?" Davonte shrugged, then nodded.

"And how did you do?"

"I'm here ain't I?" he had answered in challenge, then admirably, she thought, he had taken a calming breath, "It was a dumb test: 'What did Joyce mean by describing the grass as being green' and shit like that. But I gotta get my grade up to passing or I won't be able to play baseball this spring." Sharon had asked if he could retake the test, having remembered something about that being a departmental policy. Davonte had reluctantly admitted he could, and so they had spent most of another hour talking about Joyce's novel and its allegorical meanings, real or imagined.

At some point the young man had jumped up, prepping the bong that was on the mantle, and their extended study session had continued amid a cloud of the pungent smoke, interrupted by giggles and tangential rants about better novels the class should be using on Sharon's part and why there was not an English elective on books by athletes and sports writers on Davonte's.

"What's next," Sharon had finally asked, giggling as the young man struggled to get his stuffed book bag repacked. He had yanked the binder out, laboriously paging through his notes.

"Fahrenheit 451," he had answered.

"Oh, that's a good one," Sharon had assured him, "You'll like that. And if you have to take another English elective, ask what the books are first, then come talk about it with me, I'll help if I can." He had just nodded, smiling as he looked at her. Sharon had stretched where she was reclining on the sofa, "See, this wasn't so bad," she had chided him, "You're done studying in time to have some fun tonight." She had stopped, blushing as she noticed he was staring at her. "What?" she had asked, acutely aware that her body was buzzing she was suddenly so aroused.

She had batted her eyes, touched her hair, and licked her lips, but opted not to include thrusting her chest out. She was hungry for it, not desperate after all. Instead, she had let her outside knee fall away from the other where they had been against the back of the couch, none too subtly exposing her jogging short covered crotch. Hungry was almost desperate.

"Well," Davonte had said after a moment, "If extramarital sex is the taboo in 'Tess' and you're saying I should be more familiar with the book's plot..." He had leaned back from zipping the overstuffed bag closed, pivoting to shift between Sharon's bare, invitingly spread legs, "Maybe you should help me get some hands on..."

"Experience," Sharon had finished with a shiver as his jeans brushed her inner thigh, her voice a murmur in the moment before they were kissing. Her body had already been primed and responded immediately and powerfully. Sharon had welcomed the advance of the young frat member, hands scrabbling to get his shirt off before the first kiss had ended. He had managed to finish the job, bracing with one hand, and then the other over her on the wide couch cushions, his erection pressed against her crotch through their clothes. He had caught hold of the thin 'BZ Bitch' shirt she was wearing, tearing it easily, exposing the front clasp VS athletic bra she wore beneath. Sharon's own hands had already been at work, struggling to open his jeans as he opened the bra with one hand, the fingers shifting to tease her pierced nipple.

"Mmm!" Sharon had encouraged, her right hand dipping into his open pants, fingers deftly encircling his manhood and firmly wanking the length of his erection as her left pushed at his jeans, baring his muscular ass. He braced himself over her with one hand, which left him a hand free- unlike her husband- to push at the other side of his jeans. Though she was worried about having yet another piece of clothing ruined, Sharon had stopped trying to push her shorts down, as they were trapped by his position between her splayed thighs. She shivered and moaned into their kiss as she felt his pants give, aware of the heat of his naked cock, swaying just over her exposed sex. When Davonte had shifted to suck at her nipples, the movement let her gracefully lift her left knee, tucking it between them just long enough to get the thin fabric of the lined shorts past her knee. A moment later she kicked them off of her other foot, glad she had not bothered with panties, and never pausing to recognize the sea change that meant in a woman who had insisted on wearing panties to sleep beside her husband less than a year before.

That life was the farthest thing from Sharon's mind as Davonte's lips and tongue toyed with her pierced nipple, his left hand cupping her enhanced right breast, fingers tentatively, then more aggressively pinching her unpierced nipple. There was no awareness it was her left hand, still adorned with the impressive diamond Chris had splurged for on their tenth anniversary, that was working Davonte's impressive tool, pulling him toward her naked, flowing sex. As she brought the broad helmet of his manhood against her swollen labia, he had paused, panting.

"Wait," he had started to reach for his bag, "I've got condoms..."

"No, baby," Sharon had cooed, hips pumping up, taking him into her with a practiced stroke that was emphasized by the automatic- though in this case authentic- hissing groan of pleasure from the aroused white wife, "It's OK. Don't you know the drill with BZ Bitches?" Sharon had delighted in watching the war between lingering worry about causing pregnancy and the demanding awareness of what he was feeling flickering behind the young man's eyes. His hips had already conceded, pumping against her up thrust sex, burying his impressive tool. Sharon let her head drop back, moaning in pleasure as her hands shifted to his ass, pulling him against her fully. She had brought her knees high, letting her heels spur him on.

Davonte had resumed toying with her pierced nipple with lips and fingers, but braced against the couch once again with his left hand as he found his rhythm, delivering steady full length strokes. Meeting only encouragement from the sexy woman beneath him, he began to pick up the pace of their coupling.

"Yes!, God yes!" Sharon husked within a minute, body spasming beneath him. Davonte clenched his teeth, struggling to ignore the delicious rippling of her velvet walls as she came beneath him. "Fuck me! Fuck me," Sharon moaned. She had lost the coordination to keep meeting his thrusts, and cinched her ankles behind his ass so strongly it was a struggle to maintain the loping full length strokes.

The distraction that had provided, though, was welcome as he fought not to join her in climax. He remembered what an upper class brother from the frat had warned, during a Rush week 'challenge': 'Watch your breathing.' He did a self assessment and nearly laughed, thinking that he sound like he had been running wind sprints. It was almost as difficult to get his breathing back under control as at practice, too. By the time that he had managed it, the white wife he was thoroughly fucking was loudly announcing that she was cumming again. And again before he could consider changing positions, a climax that left the gorgeous older woman barely conscious.

Davonte stopped, feeling as if he was taking unfair advantage of Sharon. She mumbled in protest, hands weakly clutching at his hips as if she could pull him back inside of her. The young baseball player grabbed his phone, snapping several shots of the beauty laying nude before him, making sure to get his glistening cock looming over her loose, flowing cunt in a couple shots and more as he dipped half of his length into her again before he had pulled out, catching her hand, and easily bringing her upright. Eyes open but unfocused, Sharon had welcomed his kiss, after which he half lifted half rolled the petite blonde leaving her draped over the arm of the couch on which they had been fucking.

By then Sharon had been sufficiently with it to shift, bending her knees to drop her ass until she was at the perfect level to accept his cock. Davonte snorted at the obvious expertise, but did not hesitate, sliding smoothly into her all the way. She had moaned, back arching as she pressed her stomach against the couch welcoming his invading cock. He obligingly caught her hips, driving into her more eagerly than before, and quickly getting her off once again.

He shook his head, aware that he was closer than he wanted to be to getting off as well. Damn she was amazing! He had heard the rumors: her daughter was shit hot but nobody at the frat could remember a better piece of ass than their pet married slut, a woman old enough to be his mother. He pushed that thought away, losing any chance it might have offered to hold off any longer. His eyes fell to the novel which he had not yet packed where it sat on the coffee table.