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Subject: {Rameses&Death}JDR"Freshman Week Fun 7-8"( MF FF F-solo MF+ )[4/5]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
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The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
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=====================
Posted by: ryanedw@ix.netcom.com (Ryan Edwards)
no copyright 1997, so duplicate this mutha!
DISCLAIMER: Claim what you want, but this is complete fiction. Nobody is
what they seem. The guy? That's only what you THINK. So none of the
characters are based on reality. Except maybe Binkie the Mailman. If
you're under 18, you might want to ask your mom whether or not you should
read this.
=====================
"Freshman Week Fun"
by Rameses and Death
[special guest: Sick Little Monkey]
Chapter 7
Hank was more tired than he had ever been. With every passing moment
he regretted his beer-influenced decision of the previous weekend to pledge
"Pi Psi Beta." Hank's grades were hitting bottom (except his Anthropology
seminar), he had gotten to a single class on time for the last 10 days, he
had slept maybe 3 hours a night on average, and here he was stripped bare
to his waist, standing in a puddle of flat Michelob, and singing the most
sexist song known to man while being rated, yes, rated on his singing
ability by three seniors with clipboards whom he did not even know.
He really regretted when he got himself into situations like this one.
But, frankly, he had no choice. He had hoped to meet new friends and form
bonds within a month, but here it was nearly the end of first semester and
his social life was dead on arrival. Hank's thoughts turned to all the
women in his life. Alison. Sandy. Mellinda. Sarah. With Sarah came a
pang of, well, he did not know what to call it. Guilt? Remorse? Fear?
Affection? Love--
Slap! The PPB brother's paddle left a smarting welt across Hank's
shoulder blades.
"Pay attention!" Hank's pledge sponsor yelled.
"Sorry," Hank replied sheepishly. Unfortunately, the throbbing welt
brought back memories of a few weeks back with Mellinda. She had
introduced him to her full length whip and the very painful world that came
with it. Now, his penis began to spring to life, for she had trained him
to react to pain with sexual excitement. "If he smacks me with that
again," Hank mused, "I'm going to lose my load right here."
"Okay, pledges, now that you've drank from our sacred chalice, felt
our paddles, and learned our songs, you must enter or dungeon and meet our
final test!"
Hank did not care what awaited him so long as it was a bed or a
relatively flat surface. The "dungeon" was nothing more than the frat
house's basement, redone for some silly initiation rite. He hated to tell
them, but the sacred chalice reeked of vomit, their songs were atonal and
violated the unspoken laws of good taste, and their paddles were moments
way from ending up in their asses.
"In you go!"
Hank was pushed onto the stair steps by two of the larger PPB
brothers. The stairwell was completely dark, as was the basement. There
were sounds of people shuffling from side to side at the bottom, but it was
very hard for him to see as his eyes were still accommodating to the dark.
The brawny PPB brothers shoved him down the stairs, and Hank barely managed
to keep his balance as his bare feet hit the cold concrete floor.
His pledge brother had warned him about the dungeon. Every year, it
was different. His pledge brother's year, it had been a combination of
beers around the world, blow pong tournament, and circle jerk. Hank really
was not in the mood for more liquor, and he was not exactly thrilled at the
thought of wasting perfectly good semen as a pizza topping. Still,
whatever they asked, he had to do.
He worried about what awaited him in the darkness of the basement.
Some light crept down the stairs, and another initiate was tossed down the
stairs. A third initiate joined moments later. The three freshman stood
around in the dark hoping some indication of what awaited them would become
apparent soon.
A pair of hands grabbed Hank from behind around his waist. He felt
his belt buckle undone, then his pants and boxers were unceremoniously
yanked down to his ankles.
"Hey, what's the big...idea," Hank lost his focus on the last word.
The hands were moving up his thighs. When they reached his semi-erect
member, they playfully mingled with his thick patch of pubic hair. The
slender fingers stroked his penis, which immediately responded to its royal
treatment. While one hand stroked his elongating shaft, a second gently
kneaded his nut sac. Hank groaned with the pleasure that swelled up from
his crotch, shivered up his spine, and set off fireworks in his head.
"Welcome, gentleman, to Pi Psi Beta initiations," a voice smoother
than silk and alarmingly familiar whispered from behind him. "We're the
sisters of Delta Sigma Omega. Pleasure us at our Roman orgy."
The lights were slowly raised to a moderate glow. The basement
couches had been rearranged into a "U" shape. On each lounged a voluptuous
representative of DSO, a sorority whose legendary oral sex had earned them
the nickname "Dicks Sucked Off."
The blonde on the first couch was damn near the most beautiful woman
Hank had ever seen. Like the other two girls, she was dressed (barely) in
a thin silky white nightgown that hid nothing. Her 36B breasts were pert
and featured two wonderfully reddish-brown nipples. Her smooth belly
flowed into the triangular delta of meticulously clipped sandy blonde pubic
hair. Her long legs (she was maybe 5' 9" standing, Hank figured) were
smooth as virgin ice. Hank had trouble shifting his gaze to the next couch
to the right.
The raven haired beauty on the central couch was an equally
pulchritudinous delight. What she little she lacked in figure she more
than compensated with in attitude. When Hank first peered at her, she
slowly withdrew her left index finger from between her curved lips and
licked the whole length of the finger with her pointed red tongue for good
measure. She trailed the wet digit down her chin and over her pearly white
neck. When she reached her ample bust, her other hand joined the fun. She
pinched both nipples and pulled them away from her breasts, adding a little
"ohh" just to drive the three men a little more over the edge. Her hands
then left her ripe mounds and squeezed between her womanly calves. She
spread her legs slightly, and probed her moist slit with her two hands. A
looks of utter rapture and bliss passed across her face and she released
another endearing "ohhh."
The third couch was empty at first, but Hank realized the woman who
had stripped them was its occupant when she materialized from behind them
(he had not really been paying attention). To Hank's surprise (beneath a
bit of makeup that made her look just a bit on the trampy side), the third
DSO girl was Alison! He recognized her reddish brown hair and her petite
frame even in the dim light. She straddled the couch and fell teasingly so
her gown rolled up to her belly button. The three of them got a delectable
view of her pink pussy lips. Alison then signaled and beckoned each man to
his partner. Hank, by luck or design, was paired with the brunette in the
center.
When he got within range, she sat up on the couch. Her mouth
descended to his cock and Hank felt the refreshing sensation of a wet mouth
on his glans. To his left, he heard the other initiate groan. Suddenly, a
jet of semen struck the blonde in the face, and she recoiled with a giggle.
The boy was red in the face and seemed genuinely disappointed at his breif
showing.
Hank's dark-haired mate pulled away quickly from Hank's engorged penis
and caught the next shot of cum from his premature ejaculation. The
blonde pushed her away with a squeal, "Mine, Dee, get your own!" The
initiate's third and fourth shot splattered on Dee and her blonde
competition's faces. When Dee returned to hank's cock, she had a slick
silvery streak from the bridge of her nose to her chin.
"Now, where was I?" she asked examining Hank's waiting staff. She
shot forward like a snake consuming its prey and took him up to his nuts.
Her tongue worked his shaft like a pop sickle while she applied an amazing
amount of suction to the shaft.
"Hey, no fair, mine went limp!" the blonde cried from Hank's left.
She crawled onto the floor and put her head between Hank's legs. Hank felt
another mouth join Dee's as the blonde laid a sucking kiss onto his sac.
Someone was also digging her fingernails into Hank's buttocks, and he was
in heaven.
Dee released her stranglehold on Hank's cock. "Suck it up, Debbie,
you can't have mine, too," Dee added between licks of the ring between his
glans and his shaft. Hank's penis was beginning to leap with each electric
touch of her raspy tongue. His balls were pulling and tugging in
anticipation of a monstrous orgasm.
To his right, Hank heard Alison sucking off the second initiate.
Gary's (?) grunting was reaching a fever pitch crescendo. Alison clamped
down on his spasming firecracker as he unleashed a load of seed into her
waiting orifice. Dribbles of cum ran from both corners of her mouth making
her look like a mischievous five-year old who just gobbled a whole ice
cream cone. The guy groaned and fell to his knees, but Alison followed him
to the floor and slurped the last dribbles of cum from his dwindling penis.
Hank was moments away from joining the guy on the floor. His fatigue,
combined with Dee's sucking, was driving him into a giddy, heady state of
consciousness. He barely noticed when Dee released his cock and pulled him
closer to the couch. He did notice when she thrust her pelvis forward and
slid his saliva-slicked member into her moist cunt. The purplish head of
his enraged monster parted her moist labia and found its way into the
comfortably warm confines of her vagina. Her nimble hands eased the shaft
all the way in, so that when he looked down, just a pinkie width of his
stalk was visible adjacent to her dark pubic hair pelt.
He thrusted forward and back. Dee braced her hands behind her against
the couch and accepted each thrust with a nod of her head. With each
pound, her tit mounds shook up and down. Hank reached forward and grabbed
the meaty orbs. His hands slipped around her sweaty tits; his thumb and
forefinger pinched her strawberry red nipples.
Alison abandoned her initiate and laid a wet kiss onto Hank's lips.
Her tongue darted into his mouth and twisted around his. She inched closer
and rubbed her wet cunt mound against his upper thigh. Her hands stroked
every inch of his torso. Then, another set of hands grabbed his buttocks,
and Hank realized Debbie was mirroring Alison's movements on his left
thigh. The two girls' excitement juices ran down his muscular legs as he
thumped Dee. Hank was absolutely giddy with the myriad of sensations.
Alison worked his nuts between her fingers. She tugged on them, giggled,
pulled his shaft half out of Dee's sopping wet cunt, and then, lest he
protest, she jammed her long tongue down his throat.
Debbie did her best to distract Hank away from Alison and Dee. She
licked and nibbled his earlobe. She moved one her legs halfway up his
abdomen, smearing her feminine juices along his side. She smashed her
breasts into his chest and ran her white hot nipple nubs across his skin.
It sent shivers down Hank's spine as she coated his sweaty skin with her
musk and used her tits to rub it into him like one would suntan lotion.
Then, in one last attempt to drive him wild, she jammed her lubricated
middle and index fingers to their first knuckles into his anus. The slick
digits drove him wild. The sensation was not dissimilar to the release he
felt in his ass after a sufficiently large dump. A tingling flame ran up
his back.
Dee was rocking much faster now. Hank had held off as long as he
could. Hank dug his hands into her breasts while driving his dick
straight for her cervix. His cock leapt and unloaded its hot load into her
contracting channel. Dee's head shot back, and she exhaled a loud wail
into the air. With each orgasmic spasm, Hank shuddered until his limp cock
fell out of her cunt. Hank sank to his knees. Dee fell back to the couch.
Alison kneeled down next to Hank and planted a small peck on his cheek.
"I think you're an amazing PPB brother," she whispered in his ear.
Strangely, though, Hank had wished it had been Sarah, and not Alison,
who had whispered in his ear at that moment. His musings stopped when he
was tossed aside in favor of the next batch of initiates.
****
Chapter 8
****
She almost ran right into him while walking swiftly past the mailboxes
in the student center. Sarah was leafing through the few pieces of junk
mail she had received, and she nearly dropped them all while deftly
avoiding plowing straight into Hank, who appeared out of nowhere, walking
the other direction at an even more frenetic pace. There was something
strange about him, though. . . .
"Whoa!" sputtered Sarah, feeling her weight teeter on the ends of her
toes as she brought her body to an unexpected screeching halt. Her
outstretched fingertips grazed his chest briefly, then she snatched them
back toward herself, clutching at the letters. "Hank! Hey!"
"Hey Sarah," said Hank, a goofy grin passing over his face, replacing
the look of surprise. "I haven't seen you in a little while! What's going
on?"
"I'm just getting my mail, and then I was going to go back to my room
and do some work, I guess. On Thursdays I don't have class after 1:30.
What's that?"
Sarah pointed at a rough-looking string that was tied around Hank's
neck. Hank smiled broadly, almost as if he were proud of something, and
replied, "It's holding up this." Turning around, he pointed over his right
shoulder to the item dangling from the other side of the string loop. It
looked like a sandwich.
"Don't tell me. A pledge duty?"
"Yeah," he said, still with his back to her. "It's a peanut butter
and banana sandwich. Pretty gross, huh?" The sandwich was indeed rather
stale-looking, with a large amount of non-sandwich debris stuck to the side
that was facing out. The string ran to the middle of the sandwich and then
around a few times, and where it touched the sandwich the bread had
gradually been cut through by the string. To Sarah, it didn't look like
the poor thing had very long to live. Hank turned around again. "They
make all of us wear one for three days. You know, PPB and all."
"But peanut butter and banana would be P-B-B, wouldn't it?" Sarah
narrowed her eyes and sniffed, smirking.
"Hey, the Greeks spelled butter with a 'p', I guess. Go figure."
Hank realized the whole thing probably seemed really stupid to her, but he
was still proud in a strange sort of way. He had seen a few other dudes
wearing sandwiches the last two days, and every one he ran into had a
friendly thing to say to him, at least. They were all definitely in the
same boat on this one. One guy's was really disgusting, all gooey and
shriveled. He had said he kept it on while showering. "Pretty dumb, huh?"
He bent his neck and looked at his hands.
"Hey, whatever does it for you, that's cool," she laughed. "Some guys
like boobs, some guys like butts, and you, I guess, just like mouldy
sandwiches. I understand."
He wrinkled his brow at her. As far as he could remember, it wasn't
her habit to just randomly mention tits and ass like that. He had to fight
to suppress a smile. Good little Sarah. She had never been like that when
they dated. "Hey now," he scolded, "I guess you just aren't up on ALL the
initiation rituals, huh?"
"Actually Alison told me ALL about it, chum," said Sarah, winking at
him. She was just waiting for that to come up, and she could hardly
contain herself. In fact, she and Alison were pretty close; they talked a
lot about how they each felt about sex and guys and bizarre love triangles.
Her lips pulled at her teeth in an irresistable drive to smile. She held
out for as long as she could, but eventually, Sarah broke out laughing.
Hank's blood ran cold, and he felt his ears almost ringing with the
revelation. Holy shit! He started stammering something without any kind
of sense or coherency. "Er, I didn't think that, um, yeah; I went and
she, uh. . . ."
Sarah just laughed at him, although at least she kept relatively quiet
about it. But anyone actually LOOKING at them would surely realize what
was going on. He was bright, bright red, and she was rapidly approaching
the same color through giggling so hard. "You dumbass! What, you don't
think we TALK?" she cried, doubling over. She couldn't held dropping all
her mail to the floor, and she didn't even try to summon the discipline to
pick them up while writhing in laughter. "Ha ha ha!!"
"Um, well, ha ha ha. . . ." Hank couldn't help himself either. It
was starting to seem kind of funny to him too. This WAS Sarah, after all,
and he had talked with her about pretty personal stuff before upon
occasion, so it wasn't as if some complete stranger had come up to him and
disclosed his very own sexual history right back to him. But somehow he
hadn't wanted Sarah to know --- he didn't want her to know what he had done
with other girls. He felt relieved now, suddenly, but there was also a
sense of embarrassment that lingered, which seemed to be tied into not what
he did, but rather who knew about it.
"I'm sorry," said Sarah, looking up at him while holding onto her
knees. "That was pretty mean. But I couldn't resist. You and your smug
little 'well-you-don't-know-what-we-big-boys-do' thing were just begging to
get brought down a little bit."
"I'm glad you were the one to do it, I guess," replied Hank. He bent
down. "Let me give you a hand, Miss Know-It-All." He reached for her pile
of dropped mail and picked up the first thing that caught his eye.
"'Victoria's Secret?'" laughed Hank, standing up straight and looking
at the magazine with a knowing smirk.
"Hey!" cried Sarah, suddenly the object of the teasing now. "Gimme
that!"
On the cover was the usual thin-waisted, pouty-lipped, completely
stacked model wearing some emerald-green nothing. Hank was about to open
it up and leaf through it when Sarah snatched it away. "So. I guess I
like mouldy sandwiches, and you just like skanky lingerie, huh?"
Now it was Sarah's turn to blush, but she wasn't nearly as speechless
as Hank had been. "Skanky? Yo, Hank, do you know what you're even talking
about? I seem to remember a certain Valentine's Day going by completely
forgotten a few years ago by a certain moron who was dating this incredibly
wonderful and beautiful girl at the time."
"Yow! Now let's not get personal here!" Hank was smiling, though.
"I asked you whether I could get you underwear for your birthday, you know,
and you said no." It was true; he remembered that moment as being one of
considerable embarrassment. They were only 16 at the time, and he felt for
sure that she had shot down the idea as another example of "moving too
fast." God, he had gotten used to that phrase over the years. Somehow
recent events, having involved significant departures from that philosophy,
made those earlier times stand out in his memory even more. He sighed
silently at the recollections. Kissing in the front seat of his Taurus,
copping a feel on the parents' couch in front of a rented Disney movie,
touching her breasts and then being quickly refused and diverted when his
hand strayed further down.
"Ooo! Now THAT brings back memories," said Sarah. Hank looked at her
quizzically; how did she know what he was thinking? But no, she was only
referring to the whole underwear thing. "You know, that didn't last
forever. My boyfriend Alex gave me something without asking actually, so I
didn't have much choice."
"Alex Lindstrom?"
"Yeah. You knew we were going out," replied Sarah. She was suddenly
struck by the emotion in Hank's face. He was clearly disturbed by the
knowledge that someone else had given her lingerie. Her stomach tingled
slightly in response, and she felt a warm rush that immediately subsided.
Whoa, she thought. That was really weird. What WAS that?
"Yeah, but I thought that was only for about three months! He bought
you lingerie?" He was definitely puzzled. This didn't exactly fit with
what he knew about Sarah. Of course, there was that whole lesbian thing
with Sandy that REALLY blew the hell out of his preconceptions, but that
whole Sandy thing was just way too fucking weird to begin with.
"Uh huh. We kind of went too fast."
Hank grinned. There was that phrase again. "I guess I just shouldn't
have asked, huh?"
Sarah slowly returned his smile, exhaling through her nose in a small
laugh. "No, you shouldn't have. You just should have gotten me something
without asking that I'd never wear ever again and wouldn't like anyway.
You know I just really never know what I want and need some guy to tell it
to me," she laughed sarcastically. "We chicks just really need to be
dominated deep down, after all."
"Yeah, right," snorted Hank. He knew she was shitting him on this
one. If there's one thing Sarah would never be mistaken for it was a
submissive, passive creature. Even so, he was wondering if he was
mistaking the obvious meaning of her words for something more subtle. He
looked absent-mindedly at her body, and then quickly pulled his gaze back
to her face, realizing what he was doing. But before he regained his wits,
he had already scoped her out enough to cause his blood to heat and his
heart to begin thumping audibly in his ears. He hadn't meant to, but his
eyes had focused on her breasts, vaguely outlined behind the knit cotton
turtleneck and the loose, untucked flannel shirt she was wearing. His mind
was filled with memories of her breasts, pale and cold to the touch in the
coolness of the darkened family room in front of the TV. They bobbed when
she rose to hug him, and he couldn't keep from staring. His breath
quickened, and he felt his ears ringing slightly. He tried to focus on her
eyes, and the intensity of her stare almost startled him.
Sarah caught him. She knew where he had looked, and she wasn't sure,
but she thought it excited her. Her stomach rearranged itself for an
instant, and she felt warm for a moment, but then she was back to normal
and looking at him, trying to detect exactly what was running through his
head. There probably wasn't much point. She knew him well enough to
realize that most of the time she really couldn't figure out what he really
wanted to do, and that most of the time he ran on impulse. That was the
way he had always been with her; impulsive, really impulsive, but also
really, really cautious. The combination had kind of thrown a wrench into
anything. She recalled the first time she let him touch her boobs; he
kept asking if it was okay, and she practically had to put his hand on her
himself, almost defeating the purpose of the whole thing. He had asked for
her to take her shirt off, which had sent chills down her spine and set her
heart racing, but then he kept being so hesitant to DO anything. There
were plenty of times she had stopped him from doing something, to be sure,
but she wished that he'd just get used to it and quit trying to anticipate
everything, ruining the spontaneity in the process. After a while, though,
he retreated into passivity with her (Her knowledge of this was all with
the benefit of hindsight, of course), and he simply stopped being daring
for some reason. They never really got very far before calling it off in
the end, and she always wondered if there might have been a way for them to
interact that could have preserved what was instead suffocated.
Suddenly she felt an impulsive streak. "Listen," she began, twisting
her foot back and forth on one toe without noticing. Hank, looking down
suddenly, observed it. "Why don't you come back to my room? It seems like
it's been forever since we've talked, you know!"
Hank swallowed hard. His dick was suddenly jerking around in its
typical pre-hard-on dance in his shorts, and he felt a little weak
suddenly. This is nothing, he told himself, nothing but a friendly chat,
just like we've been having for the last couple of years. Nothing else.
Nothing. Not unless . . . she wants it to be something, anyway. Nothing.
"Yeah!" he almost shouted, quickly dropping his voice back to appropriate
levels and shaking his head at the mistake. "Yeah, it's been a really long
time! It would be good to . . . catch up on . . . lost time."
Hank tried hard to suppress a grimace. Shit! Had he given himself
away with that last remark? At times like this these phrases seemed to
jump out of his mouth completely unbidden. His shlong literally seemed to
take over not only his thoughts, but his vocal cords and lips too.
Sarah smiled. "Great! Let's go!" She grabbed him by the arm
authoritatively. She was going to take charge of this, of them, of him, of
this feeling that was growing stronger within her with each passing moment.
It was time to straighten it out and find out what was going on with her
feelings, and Hank seemed to be somehow at the center of everything. She
wasn't sure what she was doing was really a good idea, but she was
improvising. Like all good boys do.
"Oh wait a minute," she said as they reached the student center door.
"What?"
"You have to take off your sandwich BEFORE I let you into my room,
okay?"
=====================
"Freshman Week Fun"
by Rameses and Death
Chapter 7-8
-30-
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