03

Original story: Stormbringer

Adapted/ continued: RogueAlan

NOTE: Stormbringer created essentially a screenplay for Recession Blues, which has been an illustrated comic. He graciously allowed me to flesh it out into the story that was chapter 1, and to take his memorable character and see what I thought would happen next. I believe I once read where he said he enjoys the stories up to the point that the women 'become sluts.' I totally agree... and I thought that just maybe there was a little more we could watch as Ann realizes what she is.

Fans of Sharon do not despair, her story is continuing. And while there are similarities, I would argue that any story that features a wife falling prey to her desires or others' machinations will have a similar arc. I hope you will enjoy...

Chapter II: A Deeper Shade...

Ann blinked, surprised to find she was getting off of the highway. She knew she had been drinking, but had not felt too buzzed to be driving... She pressed a hand against her lap, and shivered at the lingering pleasure she felt, pleasure that had been distracting her from the fact that she was very drunk... and driving, the fading echo of more orgasms then she could ever remember having at once. Hell, she had not climaxed that often before in a week... probably a month.

The familiar streets near their home had replaced the glass storefronts and brick buildings surrounding the club downtown. She shook her head, remembering belatedly she needed to get a douche. And a dose of Plan B. She glanced at the blue numbers on the dash: 4:25 AM. Tom would be waking up in less than two hours for work. Ann hoped he had not stayed up; she was not sure how she would explain being almost two and a half hours late. She winced, wondering if her husband would be able to tell from a single glance what she had been doing.

The light of the local all hour drug store caught her attention, and Ann veered into the nearly empty lot. She hesitated, though. Sure, it was early, but what if the clerk recognized her? What if he knew Tom? The cheating housewife sat in her car for several moments of indecision. Should she get just the douche? She rolled her eyes... as if the clerk would not know why she was getting that in the wee hours of the morning. She would merely seem stupid for not getting Plan B as well.

She tried to remember how long after... after unprotected sex the 'morning after' medication was effective, but had only heard friends mention it a couple times. She was not even sure it would be available; the drug store was open twenty four hours, but a sign near the drive through claimed the pharmacy closed at 10PM.

The fading heat of her prolonged pleasure was becoming a mild ache. Ann pressed a hand against her sex again, musing it was no wonder as hard as she had worked it after dancing at the club. She wondered again, would Tom know by looking at her? Would he smell Jacen on her? She put the car in gear, resolved to stop the next day once Tom was at work... or maybe she would go to the little place near the club, just to make sure she was not recognized.

Mind made up, the thoroughly fucked housewife drove the last mile to their small home. Fortunately the garage was on the opposite side of the house from the bedroom; Tom had never awakened to her coming home before. Ann was embarrassed at what she had done... at what she had let Jacen do to her. As good as it had felt cumming while he was fucking her, Ann knew it had been wrong. She told herself it was just that he was so big, and she had been drinking, and because of that vicious shit who had tried to make her blow him in the private room.

She decided she could justify a shower because of the body glitter many of the dancers wore. She felt a rush of relief finding Tom asleep at his desk chair. With luck he would never know how late she had arrived home. Ann slipped into the shower, glad for once that her husband had installed a unit with a detachable hand sprayer. The guilt she felt at having cheated seemed to build with every moment. Ann cleaned up quickly and she hoped completely. She did not see any tell tale hickies as she examined herself in the dark in the bathroom mirror.

She downed three Motrin for the growing aches in her body, and knowing that she would have a headache later in the morning when she awoke. She slipped under the covers naked, feeling guilty not just for cheating, but for leaving Tom in the den... and for being relieved he was not awake. She lay in the darkness, trying to decide what to do. It all seemed so unreal, she almost wondered if it had been a dream. Before she had any thought approaching a solution, the still buzzed housewife and exotic dancer was fast asleep.

***

Tom woke with barely 15 minutes to get to work. He had tried to stay up, but had obviously crashed in his den at some point. He could not understand why Ann had not roused him as they had planned, and was a little peevish about it, since yet again he had gone without. He went into the bedroom, but only to get fresh clothes; there was not time to shave, much less tear one off. And Ann was snoring softly, still totally out, as well. She barely stirred when he kissed her, whispered that he loved her, and rushed out to the car, anxious not to be late to work. He made a mental note to scold his wife; her car was parked badly in the garage, and he guessed she had been drinking, probably a farewell and good luck thing with the other dancers, the naïve husband guessed. He knew he should repark her car, but did not have time as he carefully backed around hers and headed downtown.

He made it with a few minutes to spare, and quickly got into the swing of things. His boss was pleased with Tom's efforts, and there was work enough to keep both men busy, working right through lunch, so that Tom had no time to call home once he got to work.

***

Ann blushed, aware that she should not be there, but the image before her was mesmerizing. A simply enormous black cock, rock hard and glistening, thrust steadily in and out of a woman from behind. Ann's nipples hardened and her arousal was immediate and intense at what she was witnessing. She was frozen in place. She bit her lip, somehow aware that the woman was receiving pleasure like never before. She shivered as the man stopped, almost completely out of the lucky woman's sex, and delivered a smart blow to her bare right buttock. There was a sharp cry that became a moan as he seated the long cock fully once again, resuming the prior steady pace.

Ann wished she could see the coupling better. In the next instant, she was looking down from immediately behind and to the right of the man. For a moment her eyes were distracted by the dark black of his skin, his heavily muscled shoulder, the bulge of his biceps... the corded muscles of his forearm. His thick fingers gripped the woman's hips with confidence; not restraining, but instead offering support as he hammered into the woman smoothly.

Ann paused, sure that there was something familiar about the image... both people seemed familiar. She almost giggled, aware that it meant it had to be one of the women at work, since there was not another woman's ass she had seen so completely. She frowned, wondering if she was at work, but only for a moment. Her attention was drawn back to what was unfolding at a husky feminine 'Yesss!' as the brute using her spanked her ass once again, without slowing his pace.

Her gazed moved over the slab of the man's muscled chest down over his flat, hairless abdomen to the image of the impossible pole pumping in and out of the woman's ass. Ann blinked; the man's cock was as wide as a soda can and nearly as long as her forearm. She winced, wondering how the woman could tolerate taking such a monster in her ass. It was not possible, she thought, certain the woman was drugged or something. But to her embarrassment, she realized that she was dripping wet just from watching what was happening. She put her hand down against her aroused sex and nearly whimpered as she wished it was her being taken so completely.

The next instant, she was on her hands and knees, head buried in her pillow, ass high above her head, her body shifting rhythmically at the pressure of that enormous cock pumping endlessly into her ass. She reached up between her legs, fingertips brushing his shaft as it pushed in and out. She shivered, pulling her hand back, her fingers teasing at her swollen clit. Biting her lip to keep from moaning, she thrust two fingers into her loose, open pussy, her knuckles feeling the underside of the man's cock moving in and out of her bottom.

"Are you my bitch?" she heard the man ask. Ann paused, shaking her head. It was wrong... she was Tom's wife. The man shifted, twitching his hips side to side as he continued thrusting into her. A hand braced the front of her left thigh, and then another pushed her hand away from her empty sex, his thumb pushing instead forcefully inside of her, then pinching down against his closed fingers, trapping her swollen, aching clit while he maintained his relentless pace.

Ann screamed, bucking in impossible pleasure, unable to escape his driving cock or knowing fingers. She arched her back, which put more pressure on her aroused sex from the heavy cockhead moving in and out of her ass, and prolonged her orgasm.

"Yes!" Ann heard her voice, the same husky timber from before, "Yes, Jacen, I'm your bitch!" She shivered at the implication as much as the delicious pressure of Jacen's cock as he continued hammering into her in full strokes. Her body was still twitching from that last climax even as another crested, robbing her breath, so that when she orgasmed a few strokes later, she could only scream voicelessly. Jacen grunted over her, pausing fully buried and she felt his heat bloom deep in her belly for a moment before he resumed pounding her ass, even as she felt him cumming...

"Ahhhh..." Ann found her voice, the moan of her pleasure becoming a groan that ended in a whimper as the reverberation of her voice set off a pounding ache between her ears. She blinked. Too late, she shut her eyes in a failed attempt to block out the blinding light that had seemed to drive icicles into her brain. She clutched at her temples, and then pressed her fingers against her closed eyes. The last time she had felt so bad had been a post final hangover her freshman year of college...

A hangover? Ann blinked, taking stock of her situation. She sighed—carefully—relieved that the memories she had of Jacen thoroughly fucking her had been just a dream. She was embarrassed to find she had moved to her hands and knees in her dream, head turned to look over Tom's side of the bed at the window. She rolled onto her back, hissing in surprise as she became aware of the aches and pains from her entire body. Puzzled at how she could be hungerover and sore, the white wife let her head loll to one side, squinting at the clock on her night stand. It was a struggle to focus on the glowing numbers. How could it be only 4AM, when the sun was already up, flooding through the fanlight and defeating the closed blinds?

She blinked, then sat up, hissing at the fresh throbbing in her head even as she realized she had not set an alarm. She had overslept terribly. She was almost late for work. Although her shift at the club did not start until 5:30, Leslie had made it clear he wanted his girls there early, so they could stretch and strategize about the coming night. And she had not showered or eaten or done anything around the house. What was wrong with her?

The grim truth dawned, almost eliciting another groan... It had not been just a dream. She had let Jacen fuck her the night before. Several times. The fact that just her mental admission of the truth was enough to trigger a tickle of arousal made Ann feel all the more guilty. She put her feet down on the carpet, bracing both hands against her temples and wondering just how much she had drunk the night before. Had she showered? She was relieved to remember that she had. And as relieved that her husband must not suspect anything. Of course, that made her feel all the more guilty.

The hung over housewife staggered naked into the bathroom, trying to get her brain working. There was something she needed to do, she knew. Staring accusingly at her reflection did not provide an answer. Aware of the time, Ann swallowed three Motrin gel caps with a handful of water. She combed out her hair, threw on foundation and lip gloss, as well as deodorant and fresh clothes—a Victoria's Secret 'Pink' bra and panty set under a VS Angels hoodie and 'boyfriend' sweat pants. She grabbed a granola bar on the way out, frowning when she realized her phone had not been on the charger overnight, and had less than 10% battery power.

Her little car was badly parked; she had nearly scraped the passenger side against the garage door. Ann winced, certain Tom had noticed. She was shocked he had not awakened her to ask about it... or scold about it, more accurately. He could be so... type A; it amazed her he had actually agreed to her dancing at the club. A fresh wave of anxiety and guilt hit, and Ann considered calling in sick. Other girls had simply stopped coming to work, she knew. She wondered if Jacen would say anything to Leslie... whether the club owner would even believe it if the bouncer did.

It had been a mistake the night before. That awful man had frightened her, and she had been drinking too much. Ann backed out, mentally rehearsing what she would tell Jacen; they should not have had sex, and it would not be happening again in the last two weeks she was dancing. Jacen would understand, she was sure; after all, he had already had her; there had to be other women he would rather fuck.

The little thing she had not been able to remember came back to her as Ann approached work, glancing at the run down Walgreens with the bars on the windows a couple blocks from the club. Plan B. The white housewife screeched to a stop in the middle of the street, nearly causing an accident. She started to turn across traffic to get to the drugstore's parking lot, but a glance at the clock on the dashboard and Ann growled in frustration and resumed her drive to the club. She made a mental note to stop at the all night drug store after the club closed, wondering how much time she had for the treatment to work.

Trying to deny that new anxiety, Ann pulled into an empty stall in the still nearly empty parking lot and hurried inside. She noted Jacen was not at the door, but he often worked inside the club. As she passed the man working the door, he nodded and smiled. No leer; no suggestive comment. Ann had not realized she was worried that somehow everyone would know what had happened. She scolded herself for letting her imagination get the best of her; the place had been deserted. And to her relief Jacen was as much a gentleman as she had thought... well, except that he had taken advantage of her. It had to have been that, right? She did not remember begging him to fuck her... at least at first. She was ashamed to know she had not told him 'no,' either.

Tom, the man at the window of the man trap taking patrons money leered as she went by, but he leered at every woman, so that was nothing new. Justin, the bartender waved, and Ann waved back. She saw some of the other girls hurrying out of the dressing room for Leslie's office and knew she needed to get going.

"Justin?" she asked, "Have you seen Jacen today?" She hoped she did not sound like a stalker or worse, a girlfriend. The tubby barkeep shook his head.

"Naw, but he's here somewhere; saw his bike in the lot." He glanced at the nearly empty seats, "Why, is there a problem?" Ann smiled her thanks, shaking her head and assuring him everything was fine, then headed for the dressing room to leave her bag and purse. She wondered why Jacen had his bicycle at work. It was only when she was almost to the office that she realized Justin had to have meant motorcycle. She was glad she had not said anything aloud; no point giving her coworkers more reason to tease her for being an airhead. Seeing she had only a minute, she abandoned her planned stop at the dressing room and went straight to the meeting.

Fortunately she was not the last dancer to reach Les' office. The club owner had a simple rule to encourage everyone's prompt attendance... the last dancer to arrive each night had to work an extra set, the first set of the night, when there were fewer guests and the tips were hard to come by.

"Well, Ann," Les offered a half smile, "Looks like Darcy spared you an extra set today." Darcy, a busty redhead, pouted.

"I was here first," she complained, "I just stopped to drop my things off in the dressing room." Les shrugged.

"That isn't here at the meeting before Ann, is it?" The young woman offered no other argument. Ann had noticed repeatedly that the club owner never seemed to have to repeat himself. She stopped worrying about it and listened as he went through his notes. He always mentioned any concerns with security around the club, called out special efforts the dancers or waitresses had made as mentioned by patrons or other staff, and would explain the known parties and VIP's who were supposed to visit the club that night. There was nothing of specific interest, and Ann joined the others when he had finished, leaving her bag at her station and quickly getting into one of the outfits she wore when working the floor. She wished she had eaten, but went out with the other girls to see who might want a lap dance. When they did not have takers, the dancers helped to hawk drinks.

She saw Jacen at the end of her first circuit of the room. The big bouncer was lounging against the back wall in the shadows, where most of the patrons would not even notice him. When he saw Ann he stepped forward into the low lights and winked at her, crooking a finger for her to join him. Ann blushed, but she was glad they were going to meet out on the floor where he could not make a scene... He would not make a scene, would he?

"Hey, girl," the bouncer's voice rumbled, "You look good enough to eat." Ann gave him a look.

"Cut that out!" she hissed, looking around nervously, "I'm glad I found you."

"I'm always here," Jacen shrugged, still smiling at her wolfishly, "I'll be right here when you're ready to play." Ann noticed the headset he always wore.

"Tell me that's off."

"OK, it's off," he could be maddening. Ann shook her head angrily.

"Last night was... it was wrong." Jacen looked hurt. "I'm sorry," Ann felt like she should explain, "It's not you... You were... It was wonderful. But it was a mistake." Jacen chewed the inside of his cheek.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess it was too good to be true..." Ann wrung her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "It really was amazing."

"Yes it was," Jacen flashed a half hearted grin, "And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't hoped to repeat it tonight..." He leaned back into the shadows, "It's all right, I'll have that memory." Ann nodded, stepping back to resume working the room, "I thought you'd said you were my slut..." Blushing, and remembering that he was right, the married dancer could not think of a response. Instead, she nearly ran past the first three tables, blinking back tears, embarrassed that she had let it happen, that she had left someone other than her husband thinking she would do it again... and at the arousal she tried fiercely to deny that just looking at him had triggered.

She had no takers for a dance, but that was not unusual so early, so Ann helped deliver drinks for half an hour before she went back stage to get ready. Her first set was uneventful. No one seemed to think anything was off, although she felt like she was less outgoing than usual. She pulled as much money as any of the other girls, and had three different guys interested in lap dances afterwards. She did another pair of lap dances, and a table dance for a bachelor party before ducking into the dressing room to freshen up. She had not seen Jacen. She also had not argued when her drinks were again vodka with the usual cranberry juice. She did think that there was less alcohol then she remembered from the night before.