Chapter 3



For the next two weeks, before we had to go back for classes, Lisa was insatiable. I mean, she was wild before. Now she was maniacal about sex, like she couldn't get enough. Like she knew it was going to end soon. Like, when Greg got back.

As much as I pestered her, she wouldn't tell me about the special plans Rita had alluded to that night. Every time I asked her, she would start another fuck session. One night she even tried to let me take her anally. I think it was a mistake. I liked it, but she couldn't take me all the way in, she was just too small. She walked funny for two days. I felt really bad, that I had hurt her. But she brushed it off.

The night before Greg came back, she kissed me. Tongue and all. There were tears and tenderness and we did it all, in her bed in the museum. Another first. She held me tight all night and every time she thought she could go again, she would wake me up and we would go again. A couple of times I don't think I woke up, but I can't be sure.

Greg's return signaled the start of the long trek back to State. There were several of us from here going. I had actually been able to meet a few of my fellow students on our occasional jaunts into town as my Dad had suggested might happen. I caught a ride back to school with one of them. Lisa and Greg drove up in her Dad's BMW 750i. I don't think she was planning on returning the car to him. Ever. She kind of liked that car.

My first surprise came when I went to the housing office to get my dorm room assignment. I had been assigned to a different dorm clear across campus. It was in a prime location, as it was way closer to the library, the computer science labs, everything. It was the only dorm on that side of campus, though, and was populated mostly by women. It was hard to get assigned there.

More surprising was my roommate and suitemates. There weren't any. It was a single room, on the end, with its own bathroom. There weren't many of these single rooms in the building, only on the one end. The story around school was that the student architect that had designed the building had miscounted the number of rooms or something and when he divided by two, there was one left over. So they made the leftover room a little smaller, tacked on a bathroom and called them singles. They were the most popular dorm rooms at State. I got assigned one on the second floor without even requesting it.

I smelled a rat. A rat named Lisa Nagi.

I was sitting in my new room, staring at the mottled concrete walls and the bare linoleum tile on the floor. My few belongings were tucked away already, not even filling two of the five drawers. My three shirts hanging in the closet looked lonely, so I shut the door on them. One of the advantages of the single rooms was the space normally used by the second bed. Mine had a work bench there, and I already had spread out my soldering iron, oscilloscope and electronic testing meters I used for my computer science labs and projects. But other than that the room was pretty desolate. I didn't even own a broom.

I jumped up off the bed when I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, I looked in confusion at the mass of humanity milling outside my doorway. I thought maybe someone had bumped against my door by mistake and I started to close it.

"Hey! Wait! Lisa sent us. We're the welcome wagon."

I thought I recognized Carole's voice. I looked at her and gave her a questioning glance, raising my eyebrows. Her bright blush was all the confirmation I needed.

"Sure. Come on in." I had no idea what they wanted, but by the time thirty or forty girls had filed in, left whatever it was they were carrying, and then, after a curiously intense and reverent inspection of me, departed, I had a completely furnished room. Complete with a wool Oriental rug (a slight stain on one corner), a pair of lamps (elegant, but not matching), two easy chairs (comfortable, and that's all that counts), and enough linens and towels to fill the second closet. The single bed had been replaced with a queen-sized bed that barely fit through the door. There was even a living plant in the corner, next to the window. New curtains went up and three tasteful paintings graced the wall, covering most of the blemishes.

Carole supervised the unloading, placement and assembly of each item as it was brought in, apparently according to a pre-arranged plan. The flawless precision of the operation would have done the planners of Desert Storm proud. Carole obviously had a future in logistics.

As the work progressed, I had a chance to study Carole. Either she had lost a lot of weight in the last two weeks, or my assessment of her as stocky was a little severe. Let's just say she was solidly built and her sports bra kept her healthy chest well under control. There wasn't an ounce of fat, though, that I could see. She saw me looking at her and quickly looked away. She wrote furiously on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

I knew what it would say before I opened it. "I have a boyfriend," it read.

I grabbed a pencil from my backpack and scribbled a one word answer.

When she read my response, I thought she was going to cry. Then she realized I was making a joke and she gathered herself with what seemed a bit more self-assurance than she had had before and the re-habilitation of my room proceeded. She even kissed me on the cheek when she left.

What had I written? "DAMN!!!!"

I meant it, too.

Lisa showed up with two girls, one of them Carole, the next morning after breakfast. I got the distinct impression that General Lisa was doing an inspection of the troops. I almost felt like saluting her but I was distracted by the second girl.

She wasn't quite Oriental, but the hair matched. Long and straight and jet black. Her eyes, when I could see them, were ice blue and very striking against her cocoa-colored skin. She wouldn't look at me, however, at least not in the eye. The level of her gaze never got much above my belt buckle. Or much below it, either. As Carole and I stood by the door out of the way, Lisa toured the room, followed by the girl I had now identified as Barbara.

I leaned over to Carole and whispered, "Let me guess. She has a boyfriend, too. Right?"

Carole snorted trying to stifle her guffaw, but eventually was able to nod that she did. We looked at one another, co-conspirators in a private joke. Together we said aloud, "DAMN!", and started laughing.

Lisa and Barbara looked at us in puzzlement. Lisa got a look in her eye I hadn't seen before. Carole, seeing her expression, stopped laughing abruptly, nearly hurting herself in the process. It's a hard thing to do, to stop laughing just like that.

I considered intervening for Carole, but thought better of it. I wasn't exactly sure how sororities worked with their hierarchies and all, but I figured if I tried to protect Carole it might be perceived as a weakness on her part and hurt her in the long run. So I kept quiet and kept any further comments to myself.

Barbara left with Carole not long after that, still without having said a word to me. I got the feeling she didn't trust herself to look me in the eye.

Once they were gone, Lisa sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, resting on her elbows. She knew the position did wonders for her tits, and she had teased me by leaning back like that all summer long, especially when we were in public and I couldn't do anything about it.

I took a chair as far away from her as I could. She wanted something. That much was clear.

"Thanks for the room. What's the catch?"

I don't think she was used to the straight forward, cut to the chase approach. I know she wasn't used to it from me. She had been leading me around like a puppy for two months now. Strange thing about puppies. They grow up into big dogs. She wasn't used to me thinking either, but I could.

"Oh. You figured that out?" No giggle.

"It wasn't hard. Especially when the re-decorators showed up, lead by Carole."

"You weren't supposed to know who she was."

"Give me a break, Lisa. She and Barbara just left." I was fishing, but her surprised look confirmed it. I continued, "The only one I haven't seen so far is Rita, but I'm sure we'll run in to each other one of these days, don't you think?"

Lisa looked like she had seen a ghost. Her reaction confirmed what I already suspected. Rita was someone special to the sorority. Or to Lisa. I wasn't sure which. Having made my point, I let it drop.

"How's Greg?" I asked softly.

"Tired..." She stopped herself. "No! I mean, not like that."

"Why, Miss Nagi, I do believe you're blushing!"

"John, I <love> him. Leave him out of this."

I raised my hands in a gesture of conciliation. I didn't want to fight with her.

"OK. Sorry. So, what's going on? Or can you tell me?" OK, just a little sarcasm, but can you blame me?

Relieved to be on familiar ground, she pulled herself together.

"Rita told you I was making some special plans for you. This room is part of it. It's paid for by the sorority, whether you participate or not."

"Participate? Participate in what, exactly?"

Lisa was actually squirming. Like she was the night of the medical exam. I had a feeling this was going to be good.

"Well, each year each of the sororities and private women's houses on campus place two teams in competition. One team is a male contestant, the other team is made up of one or two females."

"OK. Let me get this straight so far. Two teams from each house. One guy, one or two girls. What do they do in the competition, fuck each other?" I joked.

Lisa studied the scuffed tips of her tennis shoes before answering.

"Well, in a word, 'Yes'." It didn't sound like she was joking.

"You're joking, right?" I asked, just to be sure.

"No." It was now well established this wasn't a joke.

"And you want me to be the male contestant for Gamma Phi?" I jumped to the obvious conclusion. I wasn't sure if I was hopeful or horrified.

She nodded, but kept quiet.

"Do the girl teams bark?" I asked suspiciously. I had heard some stories about Geek parties. Those were pretty cruel.

"No. Definitely not! Only the best, uh, performers from each house are eligible. Same goes for the guys. Anything else would defeat the purpose. "

"Which is what, exactly?"

"It's a tradition, really, going back to the early 1900's, although you won't find anyone who would admit it happened back then or any public reference to it. Even now it's kept pretty quiet. It's just the Greek's way of settling who's the best fucking house on campus. The President of the winning sorority is the unofficial Queen, kind of."

"And how is that determined?"

"Well. Normally, it's determined by whichever girl, or team of girls outlasts all or the most men. That house is then named the unofficial home of the best fuckers on campus."

"But that's not why you want me, is it?" I was beginning to understand how this crafty woman thought, and it scared the shit out of me. But I wouldn't have missed this for the world.

Lisa grinned that Cheshire grin I had seen on about the third day of our marathon summer fuck-fest. She had been planning since that day for this. The whole summer was testing and preparation, her own special training camp. I began to wonder if Greg had really been unavailable.

"Well, there is one other way, but it has never been done before."

It hit me all of a sudden. "Wait. Let me guess. I'm on a roll, no?"

She nodded for me to continue.

"If one of the male teams outlasts all the other female teams, the house he represents wins by default?"

"Yes."

Bingo. Got it in one. I was her fucking ringer. Literally.

"So, let me recap. I get to fuck 20 to 25 teams of the most beautiful women on campus into submission, just so you can be the Fucking Queen."

She looked at me and shrugged. "That's about it."

Lisa studiously avoided my gaze for several minutes, examining the stain on the carpet, the paintings on the wall, the hanging of the drapes, looking everywhere, anywhere but at me.

"That's not all, is it?"

She shook her head, screwing up her mouth as she chewed on the inside of her lip.

"Well?" I prompted when nothing was forthcoming.

"The Queen has a few unofficial duties and perquisites," she abbreviated. I think she thought that was enough to satisfy me.

"I'd like a little bit more information, Lisa."

She glared at me. I wasn't sure if it was because she was embarrassed, which I doubted, or if it was because I wasn't a member of the Greek society, which I suspected was more likely the case. I wasn't entitled to be informed of all the inner workings of the houses.

"The winning house gets first pick of all the new rushes, no arguments. They also get to organize the various functions. It... It gets political," she expanded, slightly.

"So, you'd get to be top of the pecking order, if you won. Interesting method of selection, I must say." I was thinking furiously. There was something else driving this young woman. Then I remembered what someone said about how to determine the motives of liberal politicians. 'Follow the money.' It somehow applied here, too.

"Is there an entry fee, Lisa?" From the look on her face, I knew I had hit a rather large and sore nerve.

She nodded.

"How much? $100?"

"No."

"More? $200?"

She shook her head. "More."

"$500? Come on, Lisa! How much?"

"$2,500. Per team."

A soft whistle escaped my lips. I was calculating rapidly. Twenty houses, minimum, two teams per house, ergo $5,000 per house. This was serious money.

"What happens to the money, Lisa," I asked quietly. I was almost afraid of the answer.

"It's invested."

"Huh?" No prize money?

Lisa saw I wasn't going to give up until I had an answer that made sense.

"The Greek Society has a special fund. Someone came up with the idea of investing the proceeds of various money-generating functions that were not charity fundraisers. The interest generated each year by these annual investments could be dispersed to charities and so on. At least, that's the way it's usually done.

"Unfortunately, the by-laws don't state how the money is to be used, since it's not required to be given to charity, only that it is to be dispersed, and by whom. The winning house gets the keys to the vault.

"For the last three years the same house has won the contest. All the moneys normally given to United Way and other charities have gone into redecorating and furnishing their own house. And there's not a damn thing anybody can do about it.

"The bitches in charge of the fund couldn't care less if the reputation of the Greeks is sullied by their stinginess. Their actions have caused a lot of bad feelings, both internal and external. The community is starting to wonder what's going on, but there is no way we can tell them without giving away the whole story."

"So someone else has to win this year?"

She nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Just a couple of details." She pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. "First, you'll need to give blood at the University clinic every week. It will be anonymous and discrete. You miss once, we're disqualified." She looked up. "Don't miss."

"Yes, Ma'am," I saluted. She didn't laugh.

"Second, I need your Friday and Saturday nights, unless I tell you ahead of time. Get your studying done before then or do it during the day. From 8:00 on until they collapse, you're mine.

"Third, obviously, if we're going to win by the default route, you can't fuck any girl from our house during the contest period. They were all here, they all got a good look at you, and frankly, John dear, you could have had any or all of them. There were so many pairs of dripping panties last night, the hallway was slippery. But for the honor of the house they will stay away from you, so you stay away from them. Clear?"

Well, that explained the funny looks the girls had given me. But all of them? At once? If I hadn't already had a hardon, I would have gotten a big one just thinking about that possibility.

"Any questions?" I could tell by the way she asked me, that she really didn't want any. But a few things came to mind.

"Uh, yeah. First, do the girls on the teams have boyfriends?"

"You could probably count on all of them having some type of relationship, yes."

"And a lot of these guys are bigger and stronger than I am, right?"

"Quite a few of them, yes." Not that I was wimpy, but I would never have played college football.

I think she finally saw where I was headed. "Do the boyfriends know what's going on?"

She nodded. "Pretty much."

"But not all?"

"No, not all."

Shit! This was a disaster waiting to happen. I didn't have a 'gang' to back me up. The only three other guys I knew at State lived in another dorm now and it took all three of them to lift a six-pack. Get one disgruntled Frat boy on my case for fucking his girlfriend better than he could ever hope to and I was toast. I thought fast.

"I want permission slips. From the boyfriends of the female team members. Full disclosure."

Lisa thought a minute. "I hadn't thought of that. Good point. It would probably be a good idea to have slips from the girlfriends of the male contestants, as well."

"As long as you can have an option for 'None'," I said ruefully.

"I could sign it for you, John."

"No. It wouldn't be right, and you want to win by the book, right?"

Lisa nodded, surprised I had refused.

"Then get one of your pre-Law sisters to write up a consent form, and leave a spot for 'None.' Should be simple enough, no?"

"OK. Anything else?"

"Yeah. What's allowed during the, uh, matches?"

"Pretty much anything that doesn't maim, injure, drug, kill or permanently mark. Oh, and no drugs or alcohol during the sessions."

"That's still pretty wide open, isn't it?"

"Whoever made up the rules apparently didn't want to place any restraints on the creative juices of the contestants. But mostly I think you'll find it's just straight fuck till you drop. Of course, no one tells what they did, only how well. That's another unspoken agreement. No telling."

"Are there observers? How do you know who wins."

"Oh. Well, yes, you can have observers if you want. It's rare, but you can request them. Most of the boyfriends, if they're not representing one of the houses, hang around outside waiting, then go home and have sloppy seconds. It turns a surprising number of them on. Others go get drunk.

"As to who wins, each female team has a digital camera they carry with them. A picture of the limp dick verified by date and time code is to be posted to the web site by noon the following day. No picture or a late picture is an assumed win by the man."

"So if I lose, I get my shriveled prick posted to a web site? That's quite an incentive to perform." Then I thought about the weekly blood test. And the one that Dr. Rita had drawn. "The blood tests. You're not testing for AIDS, are you?"

"John, you impress me. No, not entirely. We test for Viagra or any other of several performance enhancing substances as well as STDs. So stay real clean, OK?" She knew I didn't do drugs. And that also explained that lengthy odd conversation last summer. Damn, she was good.

"Which reminds me, John. Here. These are OK to take." She reached into her other jacket pocket and pulled out a pill bottle. She tossed it to me. Oh, right. The stuff from Dr. Rita.

"Now next, and this is non-negotiable, Lisa, when I win this for you, I want something." I didn't say if, you notice.

Lisa looked uneasy. "What?"

"I get the house. All of you. For a weekend. No blindfolds."

She flinched. "Some of the girls are virgins."

I nearly shouted 'Hallelujah!' "Tough. They won't be afterwards."

She sighed in concession. I had won! "OK, John, you win. But it's traditional that the guy spends the whole week of Spring Break at the winning house..." She grinned slyly at me.

Damn! Suckered again. "OK, if you insist. A week it is. Deal?"

"Deal!" She looked at me warily. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Just one more question." I paused for effect. "When do we start?"

"YES!" she squealed, and suddenly she was the girl from last summer again, if only for a moment. I thought she was going to hug me, but the moment passed. Instead, we just 'high-fived' and bumped the outsides of our hips together.

It was a hollow celebration.

It turned out that Halloween was the official start of the contest. That gave me a good chance to get into the routine of my classes before all the frivolity. I was building up a pretty big load of cum, as the stuff Dr. Rita had given me seemed to be working. I could masturbate and cum several times a day now, and the 'involuntary' emissions seemed to be a thing of the past. I was able to wear a single pair of shorts all day.

I met my neighbors, Claire and Abigail, or Abby, as she preferred. They were both seniors and very serious about their studies, so they were quiet. Claire had pictures of a small boy on her desk, and, when I asked about him, just said his name was Sam and that he was staying with his father's parents. She wouldn't say anything else about him, so I didn't press.

Abby had a boyfriend in the Army, a Captain, or something. She was trying to finish, then they were getting married and then they were going to save the world. She was so perky and optimistic, it made my teeth hurt. And with her ultra liberal views of the world, I just couldn't see her in a military base environment. It was obvious why the Captain wanted her, and it wasn't her ideals. Abby was hot.

There were four other guys on the second floor in a suite at the other end. In fact, there was only one suite of guys per floor in the whole dorm. The women teasingly referred to us as 'jar-openers' or 'heavy lifters.' I guess it could have been demeaning, in a way, but nothing most of us didn't deserve. And no one ever said it like they meant it to hurt. For the most part, everybody just tried to get along.

The first Friday night after Halloween I was sitting at my desk, trying to read a heavy passage in my English Poetry class. Physics I could understand, but literature? Why don't you just shoot me now? And why couldn't they ever use a complete word, much a whole sentence. It was e'en this and e'er that. I was rescued from drowning by a knock on the door.

Opening it, I saw a cute young girl about my age. She was looking at me expectantly. When I didn't say anything or invite her in, she said those three words that I was going to hear over and over.

"Lisa sent me?" She put a little inflection at the end, making it a question, like she wasn't sure if she was in the right place.

"Oh, sure! Come on in."

Fortunately I hadn't had a really good chance to mess up the place and part of Gamma Phi's 'service, ' as Lisa put it, was to clean up my room for me on Sundays. But I couldn't be there while whoever cleaned up was. Lisa had muttered something about 'temptation' and 'candy from babies' or something, but the end result was that I spent Sunday afternoons in the library.

I turned from straightening up the stray chair to see the Dairy Queen from Wisconsin standing there in a down-filled jacket. She wasn't really the Dairy Queen, but you get the picture. Wholesome looking, wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks, five foot two, the whole nine yards. Not someone you would think was willingly taking part in a fucking contest.

"Are you sure Lisa sent you?"

She dimpled when she smiled, blushing just a little. Good! For a minute there I thought I was the only nervous one in the room.

"Yes. I'm sure." She was eying me like a predator now. Sizing me up. Her coat came off and I just about choked. She was wearing a Cheerleader's outfit.

"Oh, shit!"

She giggled and pirouetted for me. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. As she twirled, the pleated skirt flew up as it was designed to and I discovered she hadn't worn the whole outfit.

"Ohhh, ssshit!" I looked up at her twinkling, mischievous eyes and could suddenly see why she was in the contest. She was a contender, too.

"I, uh, I'm John," I said, holding out my hand.

"Aren't you all," she quipped back, grinning. She was quick. "Mary Ann," she said taking my hand.

Her hand left mine and went for my belt. I had to deduct two points from her score as she fumbled a bit. I wondered if it was because of inexperience, excitement, or fear. I decided it didn't matter when I heard her reaction to freeing me of my lower garments.

"Oh, dear God in heaven..." She touched her finger to the tip of my pecker with the reverence of a nun lighting candles. I don't think she realized she had sunk to her knees until she placed her lips on the tip. I saw the conflict in her eyes as she looked up at my face, torn.

"I know. You have a boyfriend."

A tiny tear rolled down her cheek, the only consolation Mike or Steve or whatever his name was, was going to get from her tonight. Something in the way she held it in both hands, as if praying to it, made me think what's-his-name didn't get this done to him very often.

While she was praying, I took off my shirt and relieved her of her sweater. She hadn't worn a bra, either. I was going to have to go to more sporting events if all the Cheerleaders dressed like Mary Ann.

Standing abruptly, vespers at an end, she placed both of her small hands on my chest and pushed me back on to the bed. With her face next to mine, I touched her lips with my finger tip, a question in my eyes. She started to say something, then decided against it. She kissed me fiercely as she slowly slid herself on my throbbing erection.

Somewhere after her first climax she lost the skirt and we were both naked in bed. I hoped the thumping of the headboard against the wall wouldn't keep Claire and Abby awake. I would have to fix that.

Around mid-night I think she knew she had lost this round, but fierce competitor that she was, she kept at it. She got a crazed, delirious look in her eyes towards the end. She left around two, but not before she reached a tremendous climax that left her blubbering on my chest.

As she put her coat back on she looked up at me with awe and more than a bit of fear. Reaching up to my face with her hand, she drew the backs of her fingers down my cheek in a gesture of affection.

"When this is over..." she started. "May I see you again? I've never..." She shuddered, remembering the last orgasm. "I mean, you know..."

I slowly shook my head 'No' as I kissed her on her sweaty forehead. We both knew she had a boyfriend.

Saturday night was Joy. She came as a Catholic school girl, complete with plaid skirt, knee socks, black patent leather shoes, white cotton panties, white blouse, white cotton bra and glasses. The glasses were the last things to come off. They were props.

There was something familiar about Joy that I couldn't put my finger on. Her dark hair framed an elfin-like face. Her dark eyes danced brightly and she truly liked to fuck, throwing herself into it with total abandon. It was a joy, no pun intended, to be with her. She was by far the most vocal of any of my partners to date and I worried - briefly - about my neighbors.

Joy entered into the contest with an energy level that was hard to keep up with. How she maintained that level was a mystery to me, and it wasn't until 1:00 that she began to wear down. Her breathing became labored, her actions more frantic. She got that same crazed look in her eye that Mary Ann had the night before. I began pumping in earnest, trying to leave her with something special to remember this night by.

Joy screamed, digging her fingernails into my chest. She began shaking and gasping as if she couldn't get any air. Her legs tightened around my hips, squeezing me in a loving death's grip. She collapsed on my chest, muttering, "I didn't believe, I didn't believe..."

Joy cried when she had to leave, holding on to my waist tightly, like she didn't want to let go. I had to go to the window and get her boyfriend's attention to come up and get her. He wasn't happy and it wasn't because I had had to wake him up.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving break when Lisa showed up. I let her in and she made herself comfortable on my bed, but in a non-inviting way. I didn't join her. I was still struggling with the English Poetry, the text book open on my desk and my notes strewn over the rest of the room where I had thrown them in frustration.

"They figured it out."

She was cryptic, but I knew what she meant.

"All the guys dropped out?"

"Oh, they won't drop out, just in case you screw up or get 'DQ'ed. But the last limp dick got posted to the web site this afternoon." She sounded smug, but worried too. Her chosen path to victory was a long one and there were a lot of places to fall off the track still ahead of us.

"You should expect the competition to get tougher from now on. It could even get mean. Us girls don't like to lose," she said, not joking. "So be prepared for some stranger stuff than you've had the last couple of weeks, OK? Some of the remaining teams are Psych majors who may try to play with your mind, humiliate you, scare you, stuff like that.

"You'll have this weekend off," she said, changing the subject. "You going home?"

I shook my head silently, going over and staring out the window at the turning leaves. The thought of another strife-filled Thanksgiving with my Mom, brother and sister didn't appeal to me, at least not now. Dad wouldn't be back from his assignment until after Christmas. I was going to stay right here.

"You holding up alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, except for the damn Poetry class."

She was quiet. "I could get you the test questions... ?"

I was so desperate, I actually thought about it. For two seconds.

"No."

"I didn't think you would take them." She sat for moment, then brightened. "I could get you a tutor? I'll ask around to see if anyone knows somebody who could help you." We both knew she couldn't send someone from her house.

"Hell, I'll take all the help I can get. Sure. OK."

Lisa sat there playing with the bedspread watching me.

"What's the matter, John? Something's bothering you."

It wasn't the right time and beside, I didn't know what the fuck was wrong. The cleaning crew was due and I had to get out and go to the library soon. I had yelled at my lab partner for no reason this week. Every little thing seemed to upset me. And I didn't have a clue what the problem was. I just seemed to be pissed all the time.

I turned to the closet to get my jacket and started packing up my books. I could feel her gaze on me, following me as I paced the small room. I crumpled down into the chair, tears coursing down my cheeks. Something in her concern had touched me and the dam burst.

She let me cry. She didn't try to stop me, or touch my shoulder or do anything to make it more awkward. That was Lisa's way. Perfect.

When I finally quit blubbering, I wiped my nose on my sleeve and used my shirt tails to dry my eyes. I looked up at her. She looked so sad, watching me, like she knew something that I had to figure out myself. I grimaced and we left together.

For the most part the girls I had met were nice girls. Not necessarily promiscuous. I wouldn't use that term, even under these circumstances. I would just say they were friendly. Real friendly.

The girls who showed up Friday after Thanksgiving were no exception. Other than they tied me to the bed, a first for me and tried to gently 'psych' me out. But when they saw my unflagging devotion to Gamma Phi, they took gleeful advantage of the situation, even allowing me to use the ropes on them, another first, only this time for all of us. They didn't want to leave, even after they had conceded, and their boyfriends had to sleep in their cars that night.

Friendly was not the term that sprang to mind when I open the door on Saturday night. These two were as close to professionals as you could get without charging money. Even then, from the rocks on their fingers, it was obvious they had already gone to the highest bidders.

Dena and Dana were twins. Identical and as close to perfection as money and medical science could make them. Any imperfections they had ever had, real or imagined, had been surgically eliminated or enhanced. Breast implants, collagen injections, tints, a nip here, a tuck there. I was looking at $100,000 on the hoof already, and Daddy was still looking at a double wedding.

I should have been excited. Even with the hermit's existence I had had at State, I had heard of these two. Spoiled, bitchy, and in general not very nice, they had cut a swath of ruined reputations and cowering administrators as Daddy's money and lawyers kept them in school. I could only imagine what they had done to get elected as co-presidents of their sorority. Blackmail and extortion would be the easy things to guess.

Don't get me wrong. They were beautiful. Gorgeous. As good as anything I had ever seen in Playboy and then some. And, like Lisa, they knew it. Unlike Lisa, they rubbed your nose in it. There was a hardness to them I had not yet encountered with the other contestants and, unfortunately for Dena and Dana, it ticked me off. The look of disdain as they surveyed my accommodations didn't help their case.

Dena was the designated fuckee that night. They were usually so sensually overwhelming that only one of them had to condescend to consort with the commoners at a time. By alternating nights, they could share the Fucking title.

Dana prepared her sister for me, taking off her trench coat, leaving her sister dressed in a wisp of a baby doll nightie and matching high-heeled slippers. Her blonde hair was artfully arrayed on the pillow, legs teasingly spread, a buffet to die for. Dana's coat followed and she arranged herself like a floral arrangement — something to enhance the meal but not a part of it. She was visual stimulation and the toys she arrayed before her told me she was going to put on her own show, again, for my benefit.

It was too practiced. Or maybe I was just pissed at the world and Dena and Dana were the last straw.

Normally, I let the girls be on top. It was easier for them and safer. With Dena, I lifted her perfect ankles up over my shoulders and moved my stomach in close to her ass. I looked eager to fuck and the twins exchanged a smug look. When I pulled my shorts down, neither girl could see what was coming.

Dena, when I slowly inserted the head of my cock, "Oooohhhhh"ed her pleasure. At some point she must have realized she was not going to be able to accommodate my girth with ease and the "Ooooohhhh" increased in pitch and volume, ending with a very uncomfortable "Ooofff" as I rammed myself home.

Dana hadn't yet realized her sister's distress and began an obscenely raunchy patter, obviously designed to heighten the experience.

"Louder, Dana. That dirty talk really turns me on," I encouraged her.

In a voice pitched to peel paint, Dana cranked up the volume. The filth spewing from her mouth would have embarrassed a longshoreman, but she said it nonchalantly, like she could have been filing her fingernails at the same time instead of ramming a 12-inch dildo up her cunt.

Dana's chanting covered the squealing noise of Dena's surprise. She had tossed her head as well upon my initial thrust, and the perfectly coifed hair had mussed itself over her perfectly surprised blue eyes and her perfectly flared dainty nostrils.

My intent was not to hurt her and I don't think I did. I let her adjust for a second or two, and then I began a rhythm designed to wear her down. Down and out. This was competitive fucking. Dana took it for a long time until a look of distress came over her face. Distress and bewilderment. This had never happened to her before and I don't think she knew what to do or how to ask for help.

When she started grimacing with every inward thrust, I eased myself out of her cunt. It was nearly dry, like fucking into a tube of sandpaper. Looking her in the eye, I lowered my aim slightly and applied a little pressure. Even through the mussed up hair I could see her tired eyes fly open.

"Oh, God, Da (she pronounced it like 'day'). He's going to do my ass!" wailed Dena

"Well, big boy, like the back door? Go! Go! Go!" Dana, still clueless, got right into it and offered no support to her sister.

"No, Da. He's too big," she gasped as the head popped through her perfectly tight sphincter.

"Oh, come on, De. We practiced with those beer bottles. Just loosen up," encouraged her sister.

Whatever Dena said after that was lost in an unintelligible babble and the rousing cheerleading of her sister. I was just glad that my neighbors were both out for the evening. I continued to force myself in, careful not to rip her open, but not holding much back from that point.

I fucked Dena until she couldn't respond. When Dana realized she was going to have to relieve her sister and finish me off, she was a little put out. Before we began I encouraged her to continue her filthy talk, the louder the better. She was in the middle of the word 'fuck' when I rammed it in. Her practice with the dildo had helped loosen her up, but I was thicker and she knew it very soon. She mispronounced the word she was saying, her emphasis being placed towards the end.

I hammered her fore and aft until she was as lifeless as her sister. Then I stacked them face to face and went ass cunt cunt ass cunt cunt ass, up and down in a four stroke rhythm until they cried 'Uncle.'

I found their boyfriends slouched down in the hallway, heads in hands, crying. They had heard the whole thing, or at least the last part after the cold temperatures outside had driven them indoors. We got the two girls dressed. They had to be carried down to the waiting cars.

Night Shade

Chapter 4