Date: Fri, 2 Nov 2012 14:56:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: DELTA IOTA KAPPA 16

This is a fictional story about college and fraternity life.  It contains
explicit sexual activity between males.  If such is offensive to you or if
you are not of an age where reading such material is legal, please move on.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story.

Please also keep these stories available to all without charge.  Contribute
what you can to nifty.org.



			     DELTA IOTA KAPPA

			      by Macout Mann


				Chapter 16
			  Problems and Solutions



James and the other officers got to spend almost three weeks at home before
returning to campus.  James dad said that he appreciated not having all
those fifty pound boxes of documents arriving all summer, but he couldn't
understand what kept James at Sanderson almost all summer long.

"Well, we have to collate the responses to all the data in those boxes, and
come up with a list of prospectives," James responded.  "That's a big job.
And some of us have to really become comfortable with our duties.  Don't
want the year to start and we blunder all over the place."

"I know you've got a lot of responsibility.  Your mother and I are really
proud of all you've accomplished in college."



James' vacation sped quickly by.  He and Bill Hudson enjoyed each other as
often as they could.  And by the time he returned east, James was
completely rested.  He needed to be.  He had no idea how great the demands
on his time would be as president.

It was a fulfilling job.  He appreciated the visits from the old boys, most
of whom made contributions to the cause.  He relished his position on the
Inter-fraternity Council, where he was treated as first among equals.  He
enjoyed being the "decider," when rare conflicts among brothers developed.

He was very pleased with the pledge class.  Not a questionable one among
them, he felt.

He and George maintained their close friendship.  It was to last throughout
their lives.  He would become Governor of Texas, George a professor at
Harvard and also a trustee at Sanderson.

James would always remember meeting with Judge Blaylock the first time he
visited after James was installed.

They exchanged the ritual DIKa greeting.  Then as they talked, the trustee
said, "James, I remember when I first saw you.  I thought then that you had
a remarkable quality about you then.  I was really pleased that you and
George had become friends.  I hope you will remain so."

"You can count on that," James replied.

Not too many days into the term James decided that he had to give up
debate.  It would require time he just couldn't spare with all his other
duties.

"I understand," the coach told him.  "Besides, having won a national title,
there's not anywhere else for you to go.  But Jensen can carry on, and I
hope he'll bring up somebody to be as good as he is."

So James was riding on a cloud.  Then, about three weeks after classes
began Jason Winters came to see him.  Jason was a junior, mentor to Kenneth
McDougal.  "McDougal wants to de-pledge," he said.  "He's hung up about the
sex."

"You've talked to him?

"'Til I was blue in the face.  It's serious.

"I told him he needed to see you."

"Well," James said, "Tomorrow's Saturday.  Why don't you bring him down
after breakfast?...No, on second thought, wait until about ten.  Tell him
I'm busy until ten.  Let him get a little apprehensive."



Promptly at ten Jason and McDougal arrived at James' quarters.  James had
reread McDougal's prospective file, but he was strictly flying by the seat
of his pants, when he welcomed them.  He did wear his tennis letter sweater
and his Delta Iota Kappa blazer; and his study with its executive desk and
side chairs also had to be intimidating to the freshman. "Hello, Kenneth,"
he began, "please sit down.

"Brother Winters tells me you want to de-pledge."

"Yessir, I do."

"That's certainly your privilege," James continued, "but, you know, we
haven't had anyone de-pledge for about twenty years, and then it happened
right away during orientation week.  I wouldn't want you to do something
you might regret later.  You know, once out, there's no way back in.

"Do you mind telling me why you're considering this?"

"Well the stuff you guys are doing is just wrong?" the eighteen-year-old
answered.

"Stuff?" James countered.

"Yeah.  Getting naked and touching each other and...sucking on each other.
It's wrong!"

James had taken a public speaking course in the art of persuasion.  He
never thought he'd have to bring its precepts to bear, certainly not this
soon.  "We can certainly understand how you may see that sucking is wrong.
But let's look for a second at nudity.  Have you ever been swimming in the
Sanderson pool?"

"No.  I don't swim much."

"Then you may not know that, except for the one free swim on Sunday
afternoon where both men and women swim together—you don't know that men
are required to be nude to swim in P. E. classes or in free swim sessions."

"They are?"

"Yes.  It's a health requirement.  Do you think that's wrong, Kenneth?"

"I...I dunno.  I guess it must be o.k."

"You see," James suggested, "couples wear swimming gear, because the
university thinks that modesty is the order of the day, when men and women
are together in public.  It doesn't think that's necessary when men are
with each other.

"And, you know, a lot of civilized peoples haven't thought public nudity
was a problem.  For instance...do you know what the athletes wore at the
ancient Olympic Games?

"I never thought about it," Kenneth answered.

"They didn't wear a thing.  Just oiled up their bodies and went at it.
Nobody watching gave it a second thought."

Then, knowing the answer, James asked, "Do you have brothers and sisters,
Kenneth?"

"No.  I'm an only child."

"Well, I have a younger sister, who's a pain, and I'm real modest around
her.  But I've got friends who have brothers, and most of them don't think
anything about being naked around each other.  You have brothers at home,
don't you, Jason?"

"Yeah, one older and two still in high school.  We never worry about
showing off our bods to each other."

"Sure enough," James added.  "And, Kenneth, that's not only because they're
guys, but they're brothers.  They don't have to worry about putting up some
sort of front around each other.  And some dads and sons feel the same way.
It's no big thing."

"My mom and dad were divorced when I was six.  I haven't seen him in
years."

"But can you understand what I'm saying about brothers?  They can afford to
be around each other and not have any hangups."

"I guess."

"Well, you see, that's why we DIKas always undress before we go into the
chapter room.  We are brothers.  We want to feel close like brothers are
close.  We don't want to have any hangups around each other.  And when the
chapter meets together, we want to bare our souls to each other in true
brotherhood.  And the way we do that is to bare our bodies.

"Now I'm not saying that all fraternities do that.  `Different strokes for
different folks,' as the saying goes.  But Delta Iota Kappa has done that
for way over a hundred years, and the bonding that it has created among all
the members has made it the best fraternity in the world, we think.
Certainly the best on campus.  Anybody will tell you that."

"Yeah.  That's sure true," Kenneth admitted.

James was warming to his task.  Changing the subject, he continued.  "You
know, most of us are brought up thinking intimacy--that is close physical
intimacy--is off limits.  But psychologists tell us that's what most of us
really long for.

"Let's see...you play third base, right?  When you hit a home run and a
teammate gives you a pat on the back or on the butt, doesn't that make you
feel good?"

"Yeah..."  The kid was thinking.

"Well, back around the time of the Civil War, when the DIKa greeting,
shaking each other's penises, was devised, the intent was the same.
Nothing sexual about it. We want to indicate that, as brothers, we can be
about as intimate as you can be.  And as DIKas, we can be intimate in a way
that nobody else can be.

"As I say, there's nothing sexual about it.  Sure, we may get a hard-on
when we do it.  Difficult not to when somebody's touching you.  Is for me,
anyway.  But our unique greeting symbolizes our close relationship in a way
almost nothing else can.

"Does that make sense, Kenneth?"

"I never thought of it that way," the pledge admitted.

Now James moved to the most sensitive area of his argument.  He continued
to be very careful in his choice of words.  "Now, I know that we are all
brought up to believe that putting your lips on another guy's dick or
letting another guy put his on yours is something that only
homosexuals—that only queers do.  So that makes us a queer frat, right?

"Uh...I thought so...maybe"

"And you've probably heard that I'm gay."

"You?....but..."

James had to smile at the pledge's contradictory feelings.  "Not all queers
are limp-wristed fairies," He said.  "Yes, Kenneth, I am gay, but most of
my best friends are straight, and that includes the vast majority of my
fraternity brothers, including your roommate and mentor, Jason here.

"You don't have anything to worry about with him, and more important, you
don't have anything to worry about with me.  Or with the few other gay or
bi brothers in DIKa.  Surveys say that five, maybe ten percent of the male
population is gay.  We're way below the ten percent.  And none of us that
like guys have the hots for guys that don't like guys, if you know what I
mean.

"`So,' you say, `what about what happened up in the chapter room during
orientation?'

"I wasn't there, and I don't know exactly what Gary told you—he's got to
be one of the most masculine guys on campus, by the way—but I think he
mentioned that a lot of cultures never looked at sex among men the way our
culture has.  And closer to home, we can look at the American Indians.
Their culture considers man-to-man sex a part of the growing-up process.
And that sure doesn't turn all of them into faggots."

"I've never heard anything like that about them," Kenneth managed to say.

"No.  You don't hear a lot about a whole lot of things that go on.  Even in
our own culture, we don't go around talking about the experimenting young
boys do.  You know what I mean, Jason."

"You bet," Jason laughed, fortunately breaking the tense atmosphere.  "`You
let me see yours and I'll let you see mine.'  `I'll jack off if you will
too.'  Or, `you jack me and I'll jack you.'"

"I never did any of that," Kenneth somberly said.

"And, Ken," James continued, " that's the first reason we have the sexual
orientation session.  Delta Iota Kappa wants us to be broad-minded.  And in
America, sex is the one thing that our minds are narrowest about.  We want
DIKas to look at every new thing without preconceptions.

"The other reason we have sexual orientation is to prepare you for
initiation.

"You may have noticed that DIKa doesn't haze.  Most fraternities do, even
in the face of the rules a lot of schools have against it.  And I might say
that some of the hazing has sexual activity involved.  I've been told about
one frat that gets pledges naked, blindfolds them, and sticks a dildo up
their asses, so they think they're being raped.  They think that builds
comradeship and brotherhood.

"We don't do any of that shit, because we believe in true brotherhood.

"And this may seem strange to you.  Yes, you did see Gary suck off one of
your fellow pledges; and yes, you did see the pledge master suck off Gary.
And yes, if you are initiated you will suck and be sucked.  That's the only
time in your life you will have to have sex with another male, if that's
the way you want it.

"Most pledges are curious enough to want to experiment with another guy.
You'd have to be blind not to be aware that's been going on.  But no one
had better be encouraging you in that direction, if you don't want to go
there.  They'll have to answer to me."

"I didn't even know..."

"That's fine.  What you do need to know, Ken, is why oral sex is in the
initiation.  The reason is simple.  Sex is the most intimate thing two
people can engage in.  And by ritually, and I emphasize `ritually'
exchanging your seed with another DIKa's, you create a bond that will never
be broken.  You are welcomed into a brotherhood like no other.  `All for
one and one for all.'

"More than sex, it becomes a symbol, almost a sacrament.  And that's why
Delta Iota Kappa doesn't feel that anything we do is wrong.  And why the
bond that you create when you become a member will last all through your
life."

No one spoke.

Finally James continued.  "As I said, Kenneth, if you wish to de-pledge,
that is your decision.  I hope you will decide not to.  I'd like for you to
think about it.  Talk to Brother Winters about it.  Talk to your fellow
pledges or any of the actives.  Catch Gary Higgins, when he's back from
football practice some evening.

"Most weeks at least one old boy visits the chapter.  I'd be happy to
introduce you, and I'm sure any of them would be happy to answer any
questions you still may have.  Judge Blaylock, who's on the Sanderson Board
of Trustees, is a DIKa.  You know his son. George is our treasurer.  The
judge probably won't be back on campus before November, but I'll be glad to
call him.  I know he'd be happy to talk to you about your feelings.  We
want you to make the right decision for you."

"Thank you, sir," was all McDougal could say.  He and Winters left the
room.



James sure as hell didn't want to have the first guy in twenty years to
de-pledge to do it on his watch.  He waited for over a week, holding his
breath.  Jason Winters kept him posted.  He and McDougal had talked several
times.  He knew McDougal had talked to several others who had counseled him
against de-pledging.  McDougal had even summoned the courage to talk to
Sanderson's quarterback and DIKa's sex lecturer, Gary Higgins.

No old boy showed up.  James half wished Cockrell would put in an
appearance.  He could handle the situation, although James was also afraid
Cockrell might seduce the poor kid.

James was in his study, when he heard a very tentative knock on the door.
"Come in," he said.

It was Kenneth McDougal.  He walked over to James' desk.  James had a lump
in his throat as big as a tennis ball.  "I'm sorry," the pledge began.  "I
didn't understand.  I want to be a DIKa."  Tears welled up in the
youngster's eyes.

James stood and walked around the desk.  He took the freshman in his arms,
hugged him, and said, "I'm glad."



Later that night George showed up, bringing Max with him.  "I hear you got
some good news," George said.

"You can say that again," James grinned.  Max knew better than to ask what
the good news might be.

"We thought you could use some relaxation," George added, as he locked the
door.

Both he and Max led James into his bedroom and undressed him.  Max attacked
his suddenly erect dick, while George nibbled on his equally excited pecs.
It was going to be the end of a perfect day.



No issue rising to the level of the McDougal problem arose for the rest of
the fall term.  When Simon Blaylock did come by in November, James asked
George introduce Kenneth to his father.  Kenneth was duly impressed.

Christmas vacation came and went.  There was some excitement in January,
when John McEnroe, the most recent Wimbledon champion, visited the campus.
An exhibition match was arranged between him and James.  James lost, of
course, but played much better than expected, actually winning one of the
sets.

Shortly after that, the officers consulted and nominated a new slate, who
were duly elected and began their training leading up to their installation
in late May.



Then in March, James' second big problem loomed.

The Rev. Pascal Richardson had received his bachelor's from Sanderson in
1958.  Had served as DIKa's pledge master that year.  He had gone on to the
Kellogg School at Northwestern to receive an MBA and joined Chicago's
Harris Bank as a Trust Officer.  Was on a fast track to a vice presidency,
when he got religion.  He enrolled in the Master of Arts in Theology
program at Wheaton College, near Chicago, and was awarded that degree in
1967.  He was ordained by a Baptist congregation, and served as assistant
pastor of a large church in Peoria for two years.  Then he started an
independent radio ministry on a small station there.  His ministry grew to
encompass several stations throughout the Midwest.  He never gained the
reputation of a Robertson or Falwell, but made a decent living from the
offerings sent in by faithful listeners.  "Folks, if you want this good
work to continue, we've got to hear from you."

He had decided to expand his ministry eastward and had an ulterior motive,
when he chose Virginia as the place to start.  He found a promising
tidewater station to buy time on, and then revisited Sanderson and Delta
Iota Kappa.  James welcomed him, as he would any old boy.

Unlike most old boys, Pascal Richardson did not unzip when he entered
James' study, so James did not respond with the traditional greeting.  He
did invite his guest to sit, and he asked about Richardson's life after
Sanderson, as he would have of any old boy he didn't already know.

In response the minister told James about his radio program, making it
sound much more widely circulated than it actually was, and said that he
was now going to be spreading the gospel in Virginia.

James found his guest sort of strange, but thought that it takes all kinds.
His assessment was confirmed, when Richardson started to reveal the real
purpose of his visit.  "I've been praying about you boys," he began.

"Thank you," James replied.  "I suspect we all need to be prayed for."

"The sinful goings on in this house must stop!" Richardson asserted.

"Sinful goings on?" James acted perplexed."

"You know very well what I mean!" his guests cied.  "I was a part of it,
and I know it still goes on!"

"Sin?" James repeated.  He was determined to make the man state his
accusation.

"All the abominable homosexual activity that is rampant here!" Richardson
spat.  "If you don't put an end to it, I will tell the world about it on my
radio program."

"I wouldn't characterize anything that goes on here as `abominable
homosexual activity'" James very calmly replied, "and as a DIKa I am really
surprised that you would."

The conversation continued.  Richardson found that James could spar with
the best of them.  After all, he was a national debating champion.

Finally, an exasperated Richardson said, "Well, I didn't expect that you
would do the decent thing.  The Lord told me you wouldn't.  And that's why
he suggested an alternate course of action to me.  A penance, as it were.

"I promise not reveal your abominations, if you will support the Lord's
work by contributing to my ministry.  I know that Delta Iota Kappa is
probably the wealthiest Greek letter organization in the country.  I know
that you in fact do own Commonwealth Bank, and that you are very generous
in giving to the charities that you men fancy.  I think that a gift of,
say, seven-fifty a month would be appropriate.  The Lord is not greedy."

"I see," James said.  "Of course you realize that the decision is not mine
to make."  James' continued to keep his cool and that infuriated
Richardson.

"Perhaps," he suggested, "I should talk to the person who can make the
decision."

"You want to strip and discuss this with the brothers in the chapter room?"
James could hardly keep a straight face.  "Get back with me in a couple of
weeks."

James stood, signaling that the interview was over.  He could easily have
been head of a 500 corporation.  He had been taught well.



This was not something he should share with the other officers and
certainly not with the president elect.  The person he needed to contact
was Ronald Cockrell.  He had guided the Baucum thing to a successful
conclusion.  He would know what to do.

And there was one DIKa officer whom he needed to get with, the proctor.

Delta Iota Kappa had six officers.  Number six seemed to have no duties.
The brothers, including the other four officers, all thought it was a
totally honorary position.  The proctor originally was in charge of
enforcing penalties on miscreants.  DIKa had had no miscreants probably
since some of the brothers fought on the wrong side in the War of Northern
Aggression.  While the Archivist, who was always a junior, kept the public
history of the fraternity, it was the Proctor who cataloged the
prospectives' data, the notes made by officers and other private data about
members; and most importantly, the Proctor catalogued the films.  Since the
year The Wizard of Oz hit the theatres, hidden cameras had recorded the
goings on at DIKa initiations.  Rather than rolling at the standard
twenty-four-frames-per-second, however, these movies were made at the rate
of one frame every two seconds, allowing a roll of 35mm film to record
stills of every event at the meeting.  The proctor selected pictures of
each new member and cataloged them.  The fraternity had a picture of each
active sucking and being sucked all the way back to 1939.

James asked for a complete file on Pascal Richardson.

When he talked to Cockrell, the older man said he would immediately come to
Sanderson.  He was there the next day.  He and James reviewed the
situation, Cockrell looked at the data the proctor had provided, and they
agreed on a plan.  The first thing that James was to do was to have his
study wired for sound.  Then he was to wait for Richardson's call.

After their business was completed, Cockrell said, "I've enjoyed our time
together so much, James.  I'm sorry that after a few weeks we'll probably
never get together again."

"I am too, Ronald.  It has been fun."  He waited for Cockrell's familiar
overture, a reach over to feel James' ample dick.  "You want it up your
ass?" he asked.

"Wherever you want to put it," Cockrell answered.

They didn't bother to lock the door.  Everybody knew what was happening, if
Cockrell stayed anyplace longer than ten minutes.  Everybody except maybe
Kenneth McDougal.

In James bed, Cockrell moistened the younger man's dick with his hungry
mouth and lifted his legs to allow James to spear his well-used ass.  James
didn't think this would really be the last time, but he fucked the old boy
like it was.  He rammed his dick against Cockrell's ass cheeks, pulled
back, and rammed again.  Harder and harder, faster and faster, then with
shorter and shorter strokes, until he dumped his load into older man's
colon.

"Thanks, man," Cockrell panted.



James counted the days.  Eighteen before a call came from Peoria.  "When
can you be here?" James asked.

"Why do we have to meet?" Richardson snapped.

"We have to work things out with the bank, and make sure everything's
legal," James replied, calmly as ever.  "If you want to go through with the
deal, you'll come."

A meeting was set up, and one week later Richardson arrived to greet James
waiting with Cockrell in James' study. Cockrell was seated at James desk.
"This is Mr. Ronald Cockrell," James said by way of introduction.  "He's a
DIKa too.  And he'll be representing the fraternity and Commonwealth Bank."

Before Richardson could protest, Cockrell began, "Now Mr. Richardson, you
understand that although we are agreeing to pay you $750 each month for as
long as your ministry is active in exchange for your not revealing certain
information, the nature of this information is never to be made public.  Is
that correct?"

"Yes."

Cockrell continued in the same vein, as if he were reciting terms of a
contract.  Each time he would ask, "Is that correct?"

Each time Richardson would reply, "Yes."

Finally, Cockrell said, "So that's all we need."

"Will the payments start this month?" Richardson asked.

"Oh no," Cockrell said, "Delta Iota Kappa isn't paying you a dime."

"What do you mean?"  Richardson was incredulous.

Cockrell for the first time opened a large manila envelope that lay on the
desk.  He extracted two eight-by-ten photographs and laid them in front of
Richardson.  "You're not the only one who can blackmail," he gloated.

"What are these vile pictures?" Richardson asked.

"They are pictures of you at your DIKa initiation...although we don't need
to say where they were taken, just who they were taken of.  Think of how
few dollars your precious donors will contribute after they've seen these."

Horror struck, Richardson then recognized the figures in the pictures.
"I'll say that's not me," he said.  "I don't look anything like either of
those people."

Cockrell removed another photo from the envelope.  "But one of those people
looks exactly like your yearbook picture," he smiled.  While Richardson was
digesting the import of what he was looking at. Cockrell stood and crossed
to a nearby bookshelf.  "Making those pictures public will destroy your
career all right," he continued, "but this can put you in jail."  He moved
aside some pamphlets and pushed the "play" button on the recorder that was
revealed.

"Now Mr. Richardson, you understand..." Cockrell's voice said.

James spoke for the first time.  "You are a disgrace not only to your
ministry, `Brother' Richardson, you have also disgraced yourself as a Delta
Iota Kappa.

"This decision is mine to make.  We will not bring charges against you, so
long as you go back to Peoria and forget that you were ever a DIKa or ever
set foot in this house.  You can be sure that if you ever say anything
about Delta Iota Kappa, these pictures will be released and this tape will
be turned over to the authorities.  And I'm sure you will want to forgo
moving your radio ministry into Virginia.

"Do you understand?"

Richardson did understand, and James discovered that in fact it had not
been his last time with Cockrell.



Commencement is always a happy yet a sad time.  A great milestone reached
for all the graduates. Long time friends many will never see again.  The
new officers had already been installed, but until after commencement they
would remain in their old quarters.  James and the other officers would
continue to exercise their duties during commencement weekend.

There would be a cocktail-buffet at the house for DIKa graduates and their
families on Friday evening.  A reception after the commencement ceremony on
Saturday.  The baccalaureate service to conclude the festivities Sunday.
And various private affairs throughout the weekend.

James had succeeded in getting reservations at Sanderson Inn for his
family.  The Hon. and Mrs. Blaylock would be staying at one of the
university guest houses.  The Paxtons wouldn't be coming.  So James and
George made sure that Max was included in the events their families had
planned.

Mr. Winthrop had brought James to Sanderson for his on-campus visit, when
he was still in high school.  However, this would be the first visit for
his wife and daughter.  Kimberly had been given the opportunity to stay
home with friends, but knowing that she could see George, she had opted to
come.  Besides, she had said she might want to go to Sanderson herself.

The weekend was a delight.  The weather was sunny and warm with an easterly
breeze off the Atlantic.  There were any number of beachside cottages in
the area available for rent, and many of the graduates' families were
residing there; and as was the custom, many had receptions for their
graduate's friends and their families.  The Winthrops and the Blaylocks had
a very full schedule.

James presided at the DIKa buffet, and introduced the newly installed
officers.  DIKa had the reputation of having the best food of any of the
Sanderson dining rooms, and the cooks didn't disappoint.  Along with shaved
Smithfield Ham on tea biscuits, the guests feasted on crab-stuffed
mushrooms, a Roquefort Cheese Loaf made with heavy cream and grated onion,
Shrimp Remoulade, and a Caviar Pate, that is a loaf of cream cheese whipped
with boiled eggs, onion, and white wine, spread with a wonderful black
caviar and served with crostini.  For those not enamored of Tennessee Sour
Mash, there was every spirituous liquid one could think of.  And
non-alcoholic beverages for those who didn't imbibe.

The Sanderson Concert Band and the Collegiate Chorale provided the music at
the commencement ceremony.  It was held on a broad meadow between Castleton
Library and the Atlantic.  A brilliant fanfare, written for the occasion by
a Sanderson graduate who had gone on to become a famous late-Nineteenth
Century composer, shattered the calm; and as the academic procession moved
into the crowded meadow, the band accompanied the choir in "O God, our help
in ages past, our hope in years to come."

First came the candidates for advanced degrees, followed by those to
receive Bachelors of Science and Bachelors of Arts certificates.  James had
not told his parents that he was to be the valedictorian, so they were
really surprised when it was he who entered last and was seated in the
first seat beneath the dais.  A second fanfare sounded, and the band played
"The Entrance of the Guests" from Wagner's Tannhauser, as the faculty,
followed by the deans, the recipients of honorary degrees, and the
president of the university entered.

The ceremony began with a ritual exchange of questions and answers between
the provost and the president, in which the provost in Latin asks for
permission to proceed and the president responds in Latin, "Let it be so."

Then the salutatorian, also speaking in Latin, gave his address, following
the custom that it be given in a very humorous vein.  The valedictory
address was traditionally more sober, but James chose to make it lighter in
tone, with such lines as "Those who came here to play golf didn't realize
that the sand traps would be an actual beach and the water hazards the
ocean itself."

After James spoke, the chorale sang an anthem by Louis Bourgeois, and the
degrees were presented.  The ceremony was at an end.

The university's reception after the commencement was not nearly so grand
as the DIKa do the night before, but it was festive enough, as many friends
said "farewell" for the last time.

Saturday night the Winthrops and Blaylocks jointly hosted a dinner for
James and George and a few of their best friends and their families at the
Clapboard Inn.  Jessica and her family were included.  The only sour note
in the whole weekend came when Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Blaylock arrived in
identical designer outfits, down to their turquoise high heels.

Much earlier in the year, James had arranged to drive Max back to Dallas,
and had discovered that once Max's playing days over alumni financial
support was no longer forthcoming.  So, it was decided that Max would
remain in Dallas long enough for them to recover from the drive, then James
would take him on to Chickasha.  James' dad had decided that the family
would fly east one way and go back home with James.  So the Camaro was a
bit crowded on the trip west, but everyone survived.

Mr. Winthrop had booked three adjacent rooms at the Leow's Vanderbilt Hotel
in Nashville, three or four steps up from where the boys usually stayed on
their treks to Dallas.  The group arrived just before the dining room
closed, and after dinner all were ready for bed.

As James and Max were about to enter their room, James' dad whispered to
him, "Remember, we're right next door.  You and Max don't make too much
noise, o.k.?"

"Dad?"

"Oh, I've known you were gay...probably knew it before you did.  Would've
liked to have had Winthrop grandchildren, but...well, as you kids say,
`we're cool with it.'"


				  THE END



Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.



			   A REQUEST AND A PLEA



Thank you for reading Delta Iota Kappa.  Since you've read this far, I
guess you at least wanted to know how the story came out.

As the author, I'd really appreciate your input.  Several of you have sent
me emails, which I thank you for.  Please send again, now that the story is
ended.  I am immune to hostile comments, so say what you mean and mean what
you say.  I promise to respond to each email.  Contact me at
macoutmann@yahoo.com.  (This is the correct address.  I've become aware
that the address omitted the final "n" in "mann" in some chapters).

First, I'd like to know if you enjoyed the story.  Did it fulfill your
expectations?  Would you recommend it to a friend?

Second, I'd like to know if you found it believable.  A lot of "porn"
doesn't really connect.  In Chapter 1 a kid has to ask mom if he can go
out.  In Chapter 2 it seems he can do whatever he wants.  I believe a story
needs to hang together from beginning to end.  I try to do that in all the
stuff I write.  So please tell me, did I succeed?

Third, and maybe most importantly, my stories have about as many
penetrations per chapter as anybody else's.  But I am not as explicit as
most.  I believe that readers also have imaginations. I find when I'm
reading a lot of extended descriptions of intercourse, that I jump the next
paragraph where the story is advanced.  From experience I know that the one
finger, two finger, three finger procedure isn't generally necessary.
Please let me know if you'd like more explicit explanations of how it's
done.  And please be honest. I did have a response from someone on another
story complaining that I didn't go step by step.  A few more have commended
my approach.  I await your response.

Thank you.

If you did enjoy DIK, check out some of my other stuff: A complete list is
available in the Prolific Authors section of the archive.