NEW STORY TITLE:
Upstairs at the Sorority House
It was just supposed to be a few blowjobs.
Enjoy..
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Hellen led Sakura and I up the stairs of the sorority house and tried to downplay what was about to happen. “It’s just helping a few guys. I know it’s a silly old tradition, but all of your future sisters have done it, including me.” That didn’t help much, but everyone said being a sister here would be worth it.
Hellen bounded up the stairs two at a time on her long, slender legs that peeked out of her nighty. Sakura had either succumbed to or reclaimed the stereotype of a Japanese school girl, and wore a white blouse with a short black skirt that I had to keep myself from looking up when she was a few stairs ahead of me. There were probably some soft white panties under it, they might even be wet already based on how much more eager she is about this than I am.
I know what you’re thinking but I actually identify as bi-leaning-lesbian, so I tried to refocus my brain on the handful of guys that I’ve found attractive, without much luck. I almost went with the bisexual “uniform” of blue jeans and a graphic tee, but I swapped out the top for a low-cut blouse that exposed a frilly bra. Hellen had assured us that all of our clothes would stay on. I didn’t entirely believe her.
The upstairs of the sorority house was an open space filled with a horseshoe sectional sofa facing in towards a TV. Behind it was an alcove with a door in either side. The one on the left led to a bedroom where Sakura would be stationed, and I would be in the bathroom through the door on the right. It was cramped, but thankfully clean.
“Remember, it’s just a blowjob,” Hellen said surprisingly calmly. “Hands are okay too of course but the guys have been told to cum in your mouth. Try to swallow, it’s really not that bad. I’ll be outside coordinating, sending them in one at a time.”
“Ready?” I asked Sakura nervously. “Oh, absolutely!” she replied with a smile and a second generation American’s accent. Well, good for her. She waved and went into the bedroom.
Hellen read me like a book and tried to console me, crouching down to look me in the eye, arm around me back. “It’s going to be okay. These guys need relief and they’re trusting you to give it to them. Think of it as empowering — you’re the one who sets the pace, who makes things happen. Remember that every guy’s fantasy is a girl that wants it as much as he does. Now go have some fun!” With that, she showed me to the bathroom that was to be my home for… however long it took. Hellen never did give an exact number of guys she was inviting.
I sank to my knees on the white bathmat, which actually had more cushion to it than I expected. It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. How polite. An awkward moment passed. I swallowed, and in my best slutty voice said, “come in”. The door creaked open to reveal a very nervous looking guy. Probably a freshman, with still some traces of high school acne, dressed like he’s going on a date but didn’t want to admit it: khakis and a button down shirt. We stared at each other for a moment. Somehow I intuited that he was wondering if this was some kind of cruel joke, if his friends had set him up.
What did Hellen say? “Remember that every guy’s fantasy is a girl that wants it as much as he does.” I made a “come here’ gesture with two fingers and he shambled towards me, shutting the door. I could tell this guy rarely got any action, which, I realized, meant the standards were low. Anything I did, he’d eat it up. The perfect practice round. Hellen probably sent him my way on purpose, and I found myself more grateful than annoyed.
I reached up to unbutton his pants, fumbling a little since there was a second clasp I didn’t expect. I started to slowly pull down the zipper and looked straight up at him, trying to project to both of us that “yes I know what’s happening and I want it”. When I felt the zipper bottom out, I reached for the waistband of his boxers with both hands and pulled them out, around, and down.
He was… fine, I guess? Completely hard, not shaved, average size. I did a show of licking my lips while I looked up at him again. I had been worried for days if I would choke, literally or figuratively, the first time I sucked a stranger’s dick. But when the moment finally came I barely noticed it. One moment his cock was outside of my mouth and the next it was inside.
I tried not to think about it too much. I moved my lips up and down the shaft, I licked his tip inside my mouth, and pretty much let sex brain instinct take over. The guy was silent the whole time. As I suspected, it didn’t take more than a few minutes before I felt him quiver and then pump into my mouth. I kept him inside me for a few more moments, then slowly disengaged to make sure I got all of it. He tasted, I dunno, like body fluid. I swallowed, smiled at him with big eyes and an empty mouth, and he muttered a thank you, zipped up, and was on his way.
I helped myself to some mouthwash that was on the counter, more for the benefit of the next guy than myself. No sooner had I spat in the sink that the door creaked open. I didn’t have to force a smile this time, it was some hunky jock. He closed the door behind him. “You ready?” he asked. “Are you ready?” I shot back without having to think about it. In reply, he dropped his workout shorts in one fluid motion. He wasn’t wearing underwear.
Except, he wasn’t ready. So I played with his balls, rubbed the perineum, and did my best to look slutty and eager with all of my clothes on. After a few minutes, the jock was erect, so I licked the tip, just enough to tease him. And then, who am I kidding, I wanted it as much as he did. Lips, tongue, hands, all good fun. It took him a few minutes, since he was clearly no stranger to physical activity. When he finally came, it was less than the previous guy. Oh well, down the hatch just the same.
Before I had a chance to use the mouthwash again, the door swung open — it sounded loud out there — and in walked a Black guy. I didn’t get a good look at anything beyond skin color before my brain goes straight to the huge dick stereotype. Which was stupid, I told myself. Stupid neocolonialist noble savage bullshi — huh. Would you look at that. All of that.
I spit on it and then wrapped both my hands around the shaft, and I wasn’t even touching the tip. I was seriously worried this thing would give me a jaw injury if I had it in my mouth for any longer than I had to. So I twisted my hands, licked and sucked on the tip, and gave him all of the sexy looks and batted eyelashes I could manage. I could tell he had enough experience to know not to force that monster down a girl’s throat, and he seemed quite happy with what I was doing to him.