Date: Wed, 6 Aug 2003 04:01:41 EDT
From: Orlandodisneyboy@aol.com
Subject: How I Became A Fag, Part II - Chapter 5
How-I-Became-A-Fag II, Part 5
By Orlandodisneyboy@aol.com
Standard disclaimers apply. Based on characters by cthotguy77@yahoo.com.
If you shouldn't be reading this where you are at, don't! Feedback is
welcome. Flames are ignored.
*****************************************************
Author's Note: This Chapter is dedicated to a young man named Christopher.
May he fly now in brighter skies.
With all of the fan mail and support I have been getting, I wanted to write
a big thank-you chapter to those who have inspired me. I had this idea in
mind, but it was the determination to take things to the next level that
gave me the motivation to really put some oomph into it. I hope you feel
it! :)
*****************************************************
The Frat House of Lambda Chi Delta had never looked so inviting.
At least, that's what Ritchie thought as he and Chad walked up the
front steps on the lawn and around to the back lawn where the party was in
full swing. Beer was flowing freely from several kegs, all provided
free-of-charge by yours-truly, the Campus Student Body President.
Ritchie smiled. It had almost been too easy. Once he had been
brought into the fold, it was a simple matter to convince the Lambda Chi's
that they had won a special party for their Frat for all of the charity
work they had done. The beauty of it was that it was true: over the past
year, these hunky men of all types and description had volunteered at
hospitals, been big brothers, donated blood, and all sorts of
humanitarianism.
But they sure didn't expect a beer keg party for it. And the college
hadn't really offered it. But they didn't need to know that. It would be
beyond simple for Ritchie to cover the expense up. But even if he would
have had to pay for it out of his own pocket, he would have. Just seeing
the sight before him was amazing.
The frat boys were everywhere. Running around, jumping in the pool,
laying on the deck, and generally getting trashed. A few of them walked by
the strange looking tent-structure that Ritchie had put up with a curious
glance. It had cost a pretty penny, to be sure, but it would be worth
every single one by the time the evening was done.
There had to be 300 students at the party - all male. That had been
the pre-requisite for showing up. A few words with Lucas Morehouse, the
Frat House President, had seen to that. Tonight would be a bonding
experience for "brothers" only. Of course, no one would object to Ritchie
or his friends coming - not when they had set up the tent and the beer was
free-flowing.
Ritchie nodded to Lucas, who was standing near a set of speakers
toward the back of the pool area. Lucas turned on a microphone and handed
it to him as he walked up. The thumping, tribal dance music was turned
down so he could speak.
"Good evening, Lambda Chi's," Ritchie began.
The group cheered.
"In recognition for all of your hard work, we have some...unusual
entertainment for you this evening. It's very important that you keep it
top-secret. Can you do that?"
Again, the raucous bunch cheered and hollered. Ritchie smiled
broadly.
He waited for the roar to die down then began again. "So, because it
this so secret, we can only show 10 of you at a time what it is. We need
everybody to line up here at the entrance to the tent. After it is your
turn, you will be given a green wristband. To prevent anyone giving away
the surprise, after you are shown, you will be blindfolded and led into the
Frat House. From there, you will be led down to the large recreation room
where the second half of the evening will begin."
He smiled. "And where there's even MORE beer!"
He motioned and the music began again.
The crowd roared even louder that time. This was almost too easy, he
thought. Almost as easy as getting Lucas to come over to his office after
hours for a private meeting with him and Chad. He had fought the curse off
longer than anyone else on campus, but in the end, he gave into it fully.
And soon, so would his entire frat.
The hot, hunky, unsuspecting men started lining up to the entrance.
He let 10 of them inside the front portion of the tent. They lined up and
faced the back wall where he come inside and stood.
"So guys, do you like women?" he asked.
All 10 of the intoxicated hotties cheered.
He lifted up a corner of the tent's inner wall and let two buxom
beautiful women wearing bikinis into the room. The men wolf-whistled and
yelled obscentities. The two girls - one blonde and one redhead - posed in
the center of the room.
"My friends Angie and Deborah, however, have a question. Can you tell
who gives better head? Blondes or Redheads?"
The men hooted and hollered in response. It was if they were about to
burst at the seams at this point. It was obvious that something sexual was
related to whatever was going to happen. A lot of them grabbed their
crotches and waved them suggestively at the two women, who simply smiled
back.
"To that end, we're going to give you a unique opportunity to try and
tell the difference. Each of you unbutton your pants pull them to your
ankles and sit down in the chairs in front of you."
Ritchie smiled as the ten guys almost set a land-speed record doing
what he asked.
"Now," he continued, "each of you will be blindfolded, and have your
hands tied behind your back." The two women bound each frat boy and put a
thick strip of material over each one's pair of eyes.
"Oh man," I've never gotten a blowjob before," Frat boy #1 said to no
one in particular.
"Yeah, bring that shit on," #5 said.
As the anticipation grew, Ritchie smiled again and escorted the two
women quietly back to the other side of the tent. They weren't the least
expensive prostitutes he could hire, but they were the most willing. And
they didn't even have to have sex. $1000 each for no questions and no sex,
and he had his bait.
From the other partition inside, Ritchie lifted the flap and 9 of his
new best friends strode out and knelt in front of their soon-to-be-gay frat
boy.
Brad. Steve. Ben. Chad. Mark. Guy. Zach. Bryan. Tommy.
They had been the first, and therefore the most logical choices.
There were others now - a lot of others. But these guys had shown
exceptional ability to suck and fuck. And they were going to be doing a
lot of that very, very soon.
Ritchie strained to speak over the loud music that was playing right
outside. "Each of you will get one minute of head. Then, after you are
done, you will be taken into the house and led to the rec room. From
there, you will guess if a redhead or blonde was the one that sucked on
you."
The bound men smiled, laughed and cheered. They loved it.
"But no one is to talk on the way out. We will lead you over in total
silence and will put a corresponding wristband on you so that you don't try
to sneak back in and get seconds!" he said. The men laughed even harder at
that.
"Ready?" he screamed.
"YEEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" they replied in unison.
"Begin!"
At his signal, his 9 friends began to reach inside the underwear of
the hot frat boy in front of him. Ritchie walked over to #10, his target,
and did the same. They each pulled out the hardening dicks of the
gullible, drunken teenagers in front of them and began to suck their cocks.
"Oh, yeah, bitch, suck it," Number Six demanded. The music was so
loud that they probably wouldn't be able to hear each other at this point,
but it didn't matter. Most of them probably wouldn't even realize what was
happening if all of them began to moan what was going on. And even then,
it was already too late. They just didn't know it.
Brad sucked the hard cock of Jason Pfieffer. The 19 year old was
well-built for his age. Obviously a gym rat, Brad doubted that he had ever
had sex with a girl in his life the way that he moaned and pushed his dick
into his mouth.
Brad licked the top of the young Frat weightlifter's cock with his
tongue and then downed the whole thing again. He almost moaned but caught
himself before the young hottie heard. The freshman's dick was so --
well -- fresh. It was so hard that the whole 7 inch thick shaft was
standing straight out and up.
Jason tried to figure out which one of the two women were sucking his
cock as Brad secretly sucked away on him. Flashes of hot desire coursed
through him in a way he had never before experienced. As Jason began to
tremble with the oncoming feeling of sperm about to gush up his rod, the
mental picture of the two women evaporated. He thought about his roommate,
Jack Lefler, and the time he had accidentally walked in on him jacking off.
Jason spurted hot come into Brad's waiting mouth, his chest heaving, as he
silently wondered to himself how he was going to be able to trick Jack into
letting him catch him again.
Next to them, Steve was ironically sucking away on the prong of
Jason's new love interest - his roommmate Jack. As he strained to tell
which mouth was working him over, Jack found himself remembering the very
same time that Jason was thinking of. He had been pounding his meat, but
good, when his friend had walked in suddenly. The hot stream of cum had
shot all over his chest. Jason had stood there wide-eyed with shock,
muttering an apology over an incident that neither would talk about over
the next few months but would hardly forget. Jack's last heterosexual
thought was of how he was going to have to bring up the subject again to
Jason, as he creamed a huge load down Steve's throat.
"Unnnnnnnh, unhhhhHHHH, unnnh." He sprayed more and more down the
waiting tunnel.
Ben the broad-chested hunk downed the dick of Roger Wilkes, one of the
remaining football players who hadn't yet been brought over. Roger had
gone home for a family emergency and hadn't been around over the past few
days. As the blindfolded stud silently moaned to himself, he couldn't help
but think about the time he found his brother's cum-stained shorts under
his bed. He had tasted them out of curiosity. Now, the same burning
desire to taste them again returned. He thrust his cock harder as he tried
to prove to himself that he wasn't a fag. But he was. He just didn't know
it yet.
"Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" he moaned. And he did. A lot.
Chad snarfed away at Bobby Carroll's dick and even licked his sweaty
balls while the young man panted. Bobby was a typical freshman. He was
scared but willing to do whatever the other guys wanted. Including this.
He really didn't want any girl to blow him necessarily, but he wanted to be
part of the crowd. He wanted to belong. And as his stiff dick finally
shot a glob of his white jizz onto Chad's tongue, he finally felt that he
did. As Chad kept him in his mouth and started to work him again, Bobby
felt his dick rise yet again. He wondered what else he could do to make
his fellow Frat members happy?
Mark, the basketball player Chad and Ben had converted in his dorm
room, found himself chomping away on yet another man's dick. The penis in
question belonged to the editor of the school newspaper -- Richard
Tyson. Richard was a hot one. He was one of those guys that weren't
obviously attractive when seen from a distance, but when you got up close
-- wow. There was a thick coating of hair across his chest -- the
kind that looked sexy instead of disgusting. It was a real man's chest.
Richard was bombed out of his mind, but he didn't care.
"Suck it, oh yeah, suck it. Please."
He neededn't have worried. Mark intended to do exactly that.
"Dick" Tyson lived up to his name. His schlong was massive. Mark
marveled at how it would even give Guy a run for his money it was so
impressive. He stroke, stroke, stroked it over and over keeping the head
just inside his mouth. Richard started thinking back to when he and his
friends used to hang out in his treehouse when they were little and have
jerk off sessions. He hadn't thought of that in years. As a slow, steady
hunger came upon him, he wondered if he shouldn't relive some of those
wonderful memories. He burst like a cannon into Mark's mouth. Volley
after volley of creamy white mansauce coated his tongue.
"Oh god," he screamed as he came, "Don't stop!"
And Mark didn't.
Meanwhile, Guy the pizza boy was timing himself again while trying to
suck out the spunk of computer science whiz Jamie Roarten. Jaime was an
all-around good guy. The kind of guy who was always your friend, no matter
what grade you were in. He was an average, non-descript, plain looking guy
that would fit in just about anywhere. He was a do-gooder, a soft-spoken,
happy boy of twenty-two that didn't have a care in the world. His dark
hair was cut short, and he had the beginnings of a goatee on his chin. He
had a cute, round face that was curled up in amusement rather than passion
at the thought of getting his dick sucked.
But as the warm mouth of Guy enveloped around his prick, it was just
like a pizza being slipped into his own personal oven. It was hot. It was
moist. And it was going to be eaten until there was nothing left.
Jaime found himself thinking of the time he was in the shower when he
accidentally pushed his finger all the way up his asshole. There had been
too much soap and it went as far as it could go. His dick had responded
instantly, shooting stream after stream of boycum onto the wall and into
the drain. He couldn't believe at the time how good it felt. As he
started to feel something wasn't quite right about the situation -- it
was too late. Guy sucked out the filling of his own personal twinkie.
Jaime, the unsuspecting, all-around nice guy - was now a slobbering
cock-whore.
Zach the swim-team captain was shoving the 9-inch prick of a fellow
swimmer down his throat. Ironically, it belonged to the co-captain of the
team, Jimmy Grey. Jimmy was the definition of a swimmer's build, with
tight, rippling pecs enhancing his V-shaped torso. Zach noted with
satisfaction that Jimmy wasn't wearing underwear underneath his shorts, but
rather, swim trunks. Zach had started to suck on the dark-blue package
before pulling them down roughly around the boy's ankles. The 20-year-old
had light brown hair and a near-perfect smile.
The smile wavered when he started to hear the other guys cum around
the room. Weren't there only two girls? His brow furrowed slightly, but
he didn't have time to question it. His thick stalk of meat had been
savored down to the root by his team captain. The unsuspecting jock went
with the flow and put his head back. His mind reeled. He thought of the
time his brother-in-law had come into his room at 2 a.m. in the morning
horny and drunk. He had promised he would never let himself think about
that night since then, but for some reason, he couldn't help it. He was
feeling the same passion as he had felt that night when his dick had
exploded down his sister's husband's mouth. He had moved away to prep
school shortly after, but always wondered if it had really happened or been
a dream. As he began to fire shot after shot of Jimmy-seed down Zach's
throat, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it had been real.
Bryan, the ROTC leader on campus, was -- in truly military fashion
-- taking it like a man. His target, Buddy Simpkins, didn't ask, and he
wasn't going to tell. Bryan had spent the night in his friend Tommy's room
to awake finding him jacking his shooting load into his mouth. Though
angry, Bryan couldn't help but swallow. And that's all it had taken. Now
he was pumping the dick of another man to orgasm. Buddy was a engineering
major from Kentucky who had retained his southern drawl. Bryan couldn't
help but snicker to himself while he moaned his pleasure.
"Oh, yeahhhh, you beeuuttch. Yuh bettah suck mah fuckkin dick. Thas'
right," he whimpered.
Bryan smiled to himself. There wasn't anything as interesting as a
Kentucky Queer, and that was for sure. And he should know -- he was
about to make one.
As his thin but long dick was inhaled into the ROTC cadet's mouth,
Buddy thought of the time that he had stayed over at a high school friend's
house for the night. While he had been asleep, his friend had gotten up to
shower early. Buddy had heard a noise, gotten out of bed and walked over
to the bathroom door very quietly. He had heard the very distinct sound of
his friend Wesley beating his meat. The sound of a crinkled, often-used
porn magazine rattled as each page turned. Buddy had jacked at the sheer
sexuality of spying on his friend. And as he remembered how Wes had gasped
in those final few seconds of pleasure, he began to cum as much as he had
back then. In other words, more than he could ever remember doing before.
Tommy was the ROTC cadet who had gotten taken over by one of Guy's
earlier conquests. As the military stud sucked away on his new recruit in
front of him, he remembered taking Bryan into the fold. It had been an
easy matter to get him to stay over to prep for finals. Bryan always took
care of his fellow soliders. That night, Tommy had taken care of him.
This time, he was going global. Lars Steinen, the international
business major, was pushing his uncut monster into his mouth and loving it.
Tommy took a few chances here and there brushing the hot boy's chest with
his hands over and over. The just-right, german-flavored hottie could only
moan with desire and flip his perfect blond hair back and forth as his
member was lovingly pummelled up and down. Instead of saying a word, he
could only hiss with desire.
Lars worked out every single day of his life and it showed. He was
the guy every man wanted to be. Perfect build. Perfect muscles. Perfect
tan. Perfect teeth. And even more important -- a perfect dick. Anyone
that got him felt lucky to get him. And he knew it. And at that point, so
did Tommy. He could almost feel an energy emanating from the guy's dick.
But whatever sexual energy was in there now was about to belong to him.
Lars had stayed overnight in a hostel in Europe, when a few other boys
had tried to experiment with sex. He had sat up in bed and watched them
from a distance, but never participated. It had been the biggest mistake
of his life. He had always secretly wondered what would have happened. As
he pumped his load into Tommy's mouth, the thought occurred to him that he
was eventually going to find out.
The last guy in line was also the luckiest. Ritchie had been the most
repressed fag on campus. Now, he was the hottest, and the horniest. The
difference was all to clear to Martin Sykes, one of the male cheerleaders
for the univeristy. Tall and athletic, Martin had always worked extra hard
to be manly around his peers. He hadn't wanted to be thought of as a fag.
He just loved to root for his team. Now, he was just wanted someone to
swallow HIS root. There had been that one other male cheerleader who had
gotten him hard at a party and sucked his dick on a dare. Martin had
allowed it because he wanted to show that he could handle anything and no
fag was going to make him cum.
He had been wrong then, and was wrong now. And like then, the tip of
his tool vibrated over and over as he gave it up and took one for the team.
He just didn't know how many he was going to take in the future.
It wasn't long before all ten of them had been sucked off completely.
Guy had checked his watch for Ritchie and confirmed that it had only been
five minutes total. Not bad. But they had 14 more groups of ten to go.
The other 150 were in for a surprise.
*****
If there were ever such a thing as sucking too much dick, Ritchie had
almost reached the point by the time he had finished his 10th Frat Boy.
Thankfully, however, there was no such thing.
The Lambda Chis who had gotten off had been tagged with a green
wristband and led into the rec room of the Fraternity House. The room had
been specially prepared for their arrival. The men were already starting
to feel the effects of the curse, but they hadn't completely gone over yet.
It had been yet another simple matter to have Lucas get the other 150
straight boys ready. At first, there was an initial outcry that they
wouldn't be getting the same surprise as the other guys. At that, Lucas
and Ritchie had both promised they were about to get an even bigger one.
The drunken frat men had been introduced to the two prostitutes and
agreed with enthusiasm to let themselves be blindfolded and stripped down
to their skivvies as well. However, instead of tying them to a chair, the
girls brought them inside to the other 9 members of Operation Campus
Takedown -- who immediately led them to the rec room. It had only taken
twenty minutes all-in-all, and everything was going perfectly.
"Are you ready for this," Ritchie asked Lucas.
"More than ever," he promised.
What the unsuspecting twinks and jocks didn't know was that all of the
windows and doors to the basement facility had been boarded shut. The only
way in or out was the starcase leading up to the main hallway. In essence,
it was a trap. A very-well planned out trap. And it was time to spring
it.
Ritchie paid the two female whores off and personally escorted them to
a cab. He gave them another $500 each to keep their mouths shut. The
women smiled and agreed. After all, they weren't about to piss off the man
who just gave them money NOT to have sex. Their cab sped away.
He walked back inside and observed the room full of unsuspecting men,
who were talking and laughing amongst themselves -- even blindfolded.
No doubt half of them were sharing the tale of the incredible blowjob they
had just received from the two women. The other half were obviously
confused. After all -- two women couldn't blow nearly 150 guys in an
hour, could they?
Lucas turned to his left and flipped the temperature dial. He set the
heating unit to ON, and turned it up almost all the way. It would be hot
down there very, very soon. Lucas flipped another switch, and the air
conditioning came on. The ducts had been sprayed with a bottle of fine
mist. Specifically, poppers. The scene was set.
"Alright, gentlemen, take off your blindfolds," he announced.
The men, standing around in nothing but their underwear and boxer
shorts, gasped. The room was full of televisions. Big, digital,
Plasma-televisions. Playing porn. And not just any porn. Gay porn.
There had to be 30 sets altogether around the room. It was a good thing
for Operation Campus Takedown that one of their early converts had been
rich.
Each one around the room was playing a different video. And each was
set to loop over and over continuously. And moreover, there was a fine
mesh of razorwire preventing anyone from getting too close to them to turn
them off. (Another moment of genius from the fag commandos.)
"Oh my gosh,"
"Ugh!"
"Gross!"
"What is this?"
"Faggots!"
"This is disgusting!"
And on it went. The general consensus was that they were NOT amused.
But half of them were getting horny.
As they looked around the large room, they noted that every exit had
been blocked off or sealed up. The only way out was the staircase. Many
of them started to head up as fast as they could.
But it was too late.
Ritchie and Lucas had already flipped off the lights, leaving only the
soft glow of the t.v.'s to light the room. Then they had shut the door.
And their 9 other partners were nailing and bolting it shut tight from the
other side. There would be no escape.
At first, the anger on the other side had been palpable. 300 angry
frat boys were not someone you normally wanted to fuck with. Especially
drunk, homophobic ones at that.
The Takedown Team had run into Luca's bedroom where the different
cameras had been set up to observe what was to happen next.
They didn't have to wait long.
****
It started toward the back of the room. Which made sense, when you
thought about it really. When you go to a dance floor and someone gropes
you, it's not the kind of thing that normally happens out in the open.
And in the rear of the crowd of 300-packed-in male students (Ritchie
calmly laughed that the Fire Marshall would NOT be pleased), something was
starting to go on.
At first, it had started out as a fight. Homophobic guy after
homophobic guy was sweating their asses off while they were overloaded with
gay porn, poppers and heat pouring from the vents. Being pushed back and
forth and trying to avoid the surrounding razor-wire which protected the
t.v.'s didn't leave much room. A fact Ritchie and Chad knew well.
Some guys had enough mental capacity left to try and stop them from
beating up each other. However, within minutes the whole room resembled a
panicked, drunken brawl.
Only a short time passed, though, before the mood changed slightly.
Men stopped trying to throw punches, and began to wrestle with each other
angrily. Shirts and shorts were ripped. Hands were flying everywhere. It
was general chaos. Ben had noted with a small twinge of fear that two men
had fallen off of the meager stairwell onto the crowd beneath them. But he
heaved a sigh of relief when he saw them emerge from the teeming morass of
hands and legs at the bottom.
It had been too much for the almost-cursed to resist. Even up on the
third floor, Ritchie and Chad could feel their passion -- their hunger.
Hell, anyone who saw the color video monitors in front of them could feel
it.
The men with green wristbands started to somehow make their way around
the room with each other and started to grab the cocks of the other guys.
Suck, suck, suck.
It had started.
More than one green wristband had gotten a knuckle sandwhich as they
went around the room tackling guy after guy. But the general confusion as
to what was going on prevented any sort of defense by those who hadn't yet
been taken over.
Zach saw his best friend Will look at one of the video cameras as he
tried to find somewhere -- anywhere -- to run.
"Please," he pleaded, "Help us!"
A moment later, Chad decided to do just that.
The well-placed laundry chute above them opened with a loud creaking
noise. Almost everyone looked up in time to see a blast of continuous
creamy lotion and baby oil pour down into the center of the room. In
moments, there would be no doubt that each one of them would be completely
covered.
Forget foam and foam parties, Chad thought. Give me lotion any day.
Dicks started to get hard everywhere, but the straight boys were still
trying to valiantly keep their heterosexuality.
One by one, they failed.
Zach's friend Will had been staring right into the camera -- and
therefore Zach's eyes -- as the rock hard dick of a student penterated
his ass. The look of horror and then subsequent pleasure was almost too
much for him to take. It was only a few minutes before Will was pushing
his ass back onto the prick.
"Oh fuck me! FUCK ME!" he pleaded. He got his wish.
And so it went. For hours the team watched as every single person in
the room was taken over and over by different guys. After awhile, it just
didn't matter who was who. Only if you had a dick.
It was during the fourth hour, when it was obvious that everyone
deserved a green wristband at this point, that Ritchie looked over at his
friends and smiled. He nodded. They could all go in if they wanted.
Like a shot, they had the door unblocked and were down in the mass of
writhing bodies in the basement rec room.
Within moments, Chad was sucking a 19-year-old's prick while getting
fucked and sucked. Brad was in the corner getting pounded by a an
old-high-school bully who used to beat him up. Now, he was fucking him up.
Literally.
Steve was banging the campus tour guide, a smart alec little mary who
didn't even know he was really gay. His tight ass had been plowed several
times over the last few hours, but it was still tight. Steve was
determined to change that. But only if he could keep his mind off of the
debate team captain's cock plowing into and out of his own tight boypussy.
Ben, once the epitome of manhood on campus, was now a boytoy. He
could no longer resist giving up his boyhole and was getting dicked on both
ends by a pair of twins. He had seen them fucking each other across the
room, and wanted to know what the fantasy would really be like. Of course,
there were so many men around him, he had no idea whose dick was up his ass
at the moment. But he could have cared less. He just wanted to be fucked,
but good. He was going to get his wish.
Mark, the most famous b-ball player in the room was showing how good
he was at dribbling -- all over another guy's chest that is. While he
got fucked. Up the ass. He couldn't believe his luck as he saw the
weightlifting team in his corner of the room. He was going to find out how
big each of their dicks were. And as they screwed the inside of his mouth
with their turgid rods, he could only swallow with delight as they gave up
the last vestiges of their sperm.
Guy was used to making deliveries. Except now, they were up the asses
of every guy who had ever laughed at him on campus. Guy was a mean fuck.
He saw more than one straight boy who was still trying to resist the curse,
and had other guys hold him down. His big dick was all he needed to
convince them to obey. As they did, he plowed ass after ass.
As he did, he almost wanted to cry. "See, you fuckers? Now I'm the
one who's fucking YOU. Now who's the real queer?" They could only moan
their agreement with the hard dicks of his friends in their mouths.
Zach, Bryan, and Tommy were all next to each other, giving each other
moral support at they were plowed from every direction. Their hard dicks
were sucked over and over by mouths that kept changing. Ass after ass kept
getting shoved in their faces and so they would lick them. Dicks were put
all the way up their butts. They loved it. They french kissed the guys
whom they could reach, and finger-fucked those they almost couldn't.
If there were ever a gay orgy in history that would top this one,
Ritchie wouldn't be able to believe it. He had forced himself to wait
another hour after the others had gone, and then stood atop the top stair
for another ten minutes observing the groaning, now-lustful crowd.
"My friends," he yelled to be heard above the pleasure. Many turned
to look up at him, though they did not stop their sexual urges towards one
another.
"Are you now happy?" he asked.
Hands and arms pulled him down into the crowd, loud cheering and
groaning accompanying him down into their midst. Ritchie had found what he
really had been looking for all along. Acceptance. And now, 300 men
intended to prove just how much they needed him.
The pleasure that followed was indescribable.
****
Hours later, the figures of all of the Frat Men and their male guests
were huddled upon each other. Exhaustion and satisfaction had finally
claimed them, and so they slept.
One, however, could not. Would not.
He quietly removed himself from the entangling arms and legs that held
him, and made his way quietly up the stairwell after stepping over jock
after jock.
He took one last look around. Once he left, there would be
suspicions. He would have to act quickly. But there was no other choice.
He had plans of his own -- and they didn't include Operaton Campus
Takedown.
If only he would have enough time to make his plan work.
There just had to be.