Freshman Week Fun 7-8"( MF FF F-solo MF+ )[4/5] 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?"