Текст книги "Every Frat Boy Wants It"

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

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In fact, I found that most of the time I was walking around the house either naked or in my underwear. It was kind of cool.

It was about eight o'clock on Christmas Eve when I walked naked to the showers. I'd spent most of the day at my parents', but had come back to the house around six. They'd wanted me to sleep over, but I begged off, promis ing to come back early the next morning and spend the day with them.

I was very pleasantly stoned, and my dick was hard. I was going to beat off again under the hot spray with my cock nice and soapy. My towel was draped over my shoulder when someone called my name.

After my heart started beating at a normal pace, my breathing was more regular, and I'd had a moment to wrap my towel around my waist and start willing my erection away, I said, "Jesus, Kenny! You scared me to death!"

"Hated the thought of you here all alone, buddy." Kenny Frame was one of the few brothers I didn't know well, because he didn't live in the house. As he walked up to me, grinning, I realized with horror that not only was I alone in the house with him, I was already hard and practically naked. He punched me in the shoulder, hard enough to force me to take a step backward.

Kenny was a local, an honest to God, born and raised here native of Polk, California. He'd lived in the house for three years, and had moved out at the beginning of the previous summer, getting an apartment with a non-brother. He was a big guy, about six four and two hundred thirty pounds of solid muscle. He'd played on the CSUP football team on an athletic scholarship his first two years in school, but he liked to party a little too much so he'd quit. He had a mop of unruly curly reddish blond hair, freckles across his nose, brown eyes and a body that was all veined muscle. I'd hung out with him a few times, and liked him. He had an odd sense of humor, and sometimes went a little too far with the teasing, but he was always grinning and in a good mood, and never meant anything by it. Kenny wasn't popular with the majority of the brothers, especially with the Executive Council. When he got drunk, so the stories went, he had a tendency to do crazy things, and would become belligerent when anyone tried to interfere. I'd heard it had taken four of the biggest guys in the house to restrain him once. Another time he'd gotten drunk, gone out into the parking lot, and started hitting golf balls in the direction of the Alpha Xi Delta house. Several shattered car windows later, someone had managed to get the golf club away from him and put him to bed.

Obviously, relations with the sisters of Alpha Xi were a little strained for a while after that.

"What about your family?" My dick was shrinking, thank God.

He shrugged. "They're sitting around watching It's a Wonderful Life and in about another hour or two, they'll be asleep. I knew you were here, and I felt like partying." Out of one of his jacket pockets he pulled a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold. Out of the other he pulled out a bag of white powder. "You've got pot, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course I do."

He grinned at me. "Go ahead and take your shower, and I'll wait for you in your room."

"Urn, okay. The room's open." I stood there like a fool and watched him walk up the hallway to my room. He was so fucking hot. His legs were all thick muscle, and he had this great big muscular ass that strained against his jeans as though trying to break out. I'd partied with Kenny beforebut never alone. It would be so tempting, I thought as I soaped up my body in the shower, to try something, but I wouldn't, couldn't. Kenny was cool, but he wasn't that cool-and besides, he could kick my ass with one arm tied behind his back. And if he was drunk-and there was no one around to talk him down-the thought made me shudder. Yeah, no matter how fucked up I got, I'd have to keep my hands to myself. I got under the spray of hot water and took my shower.

My towel tied securely around my waist, I walked back into my room. He'd put an old Fleetwood Mac CD on my stereo, and two fat lines of coke were already laid out on my framed picture of Blair and me from Initiation Night. Two shot glasses filled with golden liquor were set out on my desk, and Kenny was finishing the last remnants of ash and pot in my bong. He grinned at me as I pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He held the bong out to me. "Refill, please," he said in a childlike voice that made me think of Oliver Twist– "may I have some more, sir?"

I sat down at my desk and got out the tin I kept my pot in, tearing some pieces off a damp bud with purplish red hairs growing out of it. I lit up, inhaling, listening to the water bubble inside the glass, letting go of the vent hole and letting the cooled smoke fill my lungs before passing it back to him. He did the same as I blew out a stream of smoke that seemed to fill my little room. Somehow, the room seemed even smaller with him sitting on my bed. Kenny let out his hit, coughing a little, then passed the bong back to me. I gestured for him to keep it, and he took two more hits.

"Damn," he said, his eyes watering as he put the bong down. "That's good grass, man."

I shrugged and took the tequila glass he offered. We clinked the glasses together and tossed the liquor back. It was smooth, but strong, and the burning didn't start until it was all the way down. Then came the lines of coke. I hadn't done coke since the night with Marc-and I wondered if doing it again was a sign of possibilities to come. I tried not to be too obvious as I snuck glances over at Kenny. Damn, he filled out those jeans really nicely. Stop that! Are you crazy? I reminded myself. He can break you in half with one hand. Just don't go there-don't even fucking think about it.

After some more bong hits, another line of coke and a couple more shots of the tequila, I was feeling pretty fucked up. Kenny was still sitting on the side of my bed and I was in my desk chair. We talked about little thingsbrothers we liked, brothers we didn't like, wasn't that a great party, and so on. I kept sneaking glances over at him out of the corner of my eyes.

He really had the most amazing body.

After a fourth shot, I decided I needed to stop with the tequila. I was getting too drunk, and I was afraid that I might not be able to trust myself to be around him. It had been two weeks since Blair had gone home-and even though we talked on the phone every day and e-mailed each other dozens of times, I missed the feel of another man in my arms. No matter how many times I beat off, it just wasn't the same. And Kenny was sexy as hell.

Kenny just grinned, pouring himself another shot. "Yeah, best to pace yourself, I always say." He threw the shot back like it was the first, making a loud "ah" sound and putting the glass down. "I feel pretty good." He stretched his arms up overhead, and I could see the big lat muscles fanning out underneath his sweater. "Too bad no chicks around." He winked at me.

"Yeah." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I was starting to sweat a little.

He grabbed his crotch and rubbed it. "Tequila and coke always make me horny, ya know?"

"Uh-huh." My mind was racing through its fog. The tequila had soaked in, and the pot wasn't helping much, although the coke had me completely alert. It was a weird combination, one I wasn't sure I liked very much. And I wasn't entirely comfortable with the direction this conversation was heading. Don't even think he is going therefor one second, I told myself, because he isn't. Kenny Frame is into women, and women only. Keep your hands off and remember that. This is where you could get yourself into some serious, major trouble.

"You don't get laid much, do you?" Kenny was looking at me seriously. "I mean, I don't think I've ever heard of you banging one chick all semester."

This wasn't the first time this had come up with one of the brothers. I shrugged, giving my standard response. "I just don't see much need to brag about it." This often had the desired effect; implying that brothers who bragged didn't get much action-which usually made the person who brought it up in the first place redden and shut up.

"I don't buy it." Kenny winked at me. "Me, I think you like guys."

My jaw dropped. Oh, fuck. Through my fogged mind, I tried to figure out an appropriate response. "I do not!" I squeaked out finally and cursed at myself. Yeah, that sounded masculine and convincing. Nice move!

"You sure?" Kenny gave me that big grin again. "Some of the other brothers think so."

The tequila churned in my stomach, just as a big drip of coke went down my throat. I gagged, horrified, not knowing what to say, what to do. Blair and I had always been so careful. We knew that not ever hooking up very publicly with any girls was a risk-especially since we spent so much time together. Chris and Eric were very publicly heterosexual, even though I suspected they really weren't as "bisexual" as they'd told me. Blair and I had never once talked about what might happen if people started talking about us in that way. Fuck! I wanted the world to collapse then, wanted a big hole in the floor to open up and suck me down. "Who?" I managed to keep my voice steady. "Who's said that about me?"

"Nobody who matters, really." Kenny poured himself another shot of tequila. "Assholes nobody likes, nobody listens to. I don't care, myself."

"Huh?" I couldn't do anything but stare at him. My mind was racing a million miles an hour. Who is saying that shit about me? Are they saying it about Blair too ? What the hell are we going to do?

"Don't matter to me," he went on as though I hadn't spoken. "You get your rocks off how you get your rocks off, ya know? I don't give a shit. Hell, I've done it a couple of times myself."

"You have?" I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. Kenny Frame, the big muscle stud football player who fucked any chick who even looked at him sideways? It had to be the tequila. I reached for the bong with shaking hands and took another hit.

"Everyone has." He looked at me. "Anyone who says they never have is a fucking liar." He smiled. "I mean, come on, Jeff. Haven't you?"

"No. No, I never have."

"Really?" he shrugged. "Okay, man, if you say so." He measured out two more lines of coke. "Damn, it's hot in here." He passed me the picture frame. As I took the rolled up dollar bill and started to inhale my line, he pulled the sweater up over his head.

This can't be happening, I thought to myself as I tried not to look at his body. He was all smooth, tanned thick muscle. Big hard round pecs with half-dollar-sized purple nipples, a completely flat hard stomach with a trail of hair leading from the navel to the waist of his tight jeans. His arms were big, solid, thick, and strong. My dick was getting hard, in spite of myself.

He laughed. "You're getting a boner, just thinking about it. Aren't you?" He winked at me.

I crossed my legs, passing the frame back. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My mind was racing, my coked-up blood pumping into my dick.

He did his line and put the frame down, kicking off his shoes. He stood up and undid the button fly of his jeans and then peeled them off his powerful legs, standing before me in just his white briefs. He had a hard-on, too. He got back onto the bed, kneeling in the middle of the mattress. "Let's wrestle." He growled. "I've got some energy I need to burn off."

I laughed, but it sounded choked and forced to me. "Like that would be fair. You'd kick my ass in two seconds." But the thought of having that body wrapped around mine was enticing.

"You chicken?" he taunted, flexing his big arms.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you could kill me without even trying."

He laughed, delighted. "You should be chicken. I knew you were a smart guy." He winked at me. "Aw, come on, I won't hurt you, Jeff. That wouldn't be any fun. Of course I'll win, but it's the struggle that's fun, you know? Two men tussling together to see who's the strongest? Don't you think that's hot, Jeff? You know you do."

"I don't think it's such a good idea." I shook my head. "Seriously, man." I forced out a laugh. "I mean, Kenny. It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

"What's weird is why you have such a problem with having a friendly wrestling match with one of your brothers." He climbed off the bed and walked over to my dresser, pulling out the top drawer and pulling out a pair of pale blue underwear Blair had given me. They were bikini cut, which he liked to see me in, saying "It always reminds me of you in my red bikini next to Dad's pool, sexy as hell but shy and nervous with no idea of just the affect you were having on everyone around you." Kenny held them up and grinned. "Very nice," he said with a grin and tossed them to me. "Put those on. It'll be fun, you'll see."

"Kenny, I-"

"If you're worried about getting a hard-on, don't be." He reached down and grabbed his own. "See? I've got one. No big deal, you see?"

I swallowed. It was so tempting. "Um-"

"Come on, man." He was losing patience. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you. Don't be such a pussy. You'll see, it's fun."

I gave up and got to my feet. "All right, already." I dropped my sweatpants and pulled the underwear up and on. "You happy now?"

He hopped back on the bed, the grin back on his face. "This'll be fun, you'll see. And the hard-ons are no big deal. If you watch the Olympic guys, they have hard-ons in their singlets all the time. It's a male thing, you know? Primal."

"Uh-huh." I took a deep breath and climbed up onto the bed. He was about a foot away from me, both of us on our knees.

"You ready?" he asked, a big grin on his face.

I nodded, and he grabbed me.

It took him about twenty seconds to pin me. As I'd thought, I didn't have a chance against him. I couldn't budge him. He outweighed me by too much, and was much stronger. Anything I tried to do was useless ... whenever I got him into a hold, he could counter it and get me into something much worse. We went a couple more times, him even letting me get him in a hold to start with, but it made absolutely no difference. He could just power out of it and then I was just there for the taking.

My cock was aching. I hadn't been this close to another man physically in weeks, feeling him and his cool, soft, smooth skin on top of me. I tried to burn the memories into my brain, to beat off to later. He was so strong, so powerful, and so masculine. I could smell his armpits, and one time he had me facedown on the bed in a full nelson, his big heavy muscled arms wrapped through mine and behind my head, and he was lying on top of me. I could feel his hard dick on my ass, and I wondered where this would all lead ... This was great, but even so, it wasn't enough.

I wanted him, God help me. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted to take his cock in my mouth and make him moan and squirm with pleasure.

I was hot with desire.

After the fourth straight time he'd made me cry "uncle," I pushed away from him, sitting back on my pillows while trying to catch my breath. The physical exertion had sobered me up. He was breathing hard too, which I found hard to believe. I couldn't believe I had worn him out ... and I kept trying not to look at his hard-on, which was even more obvious than before.

"You done?" he panted.

"Well, yeah." I took a deep breath. "I'm fucking exhausted, man."

He held out his right hand for me to shake. "You're a tough little monkey, aren't you?"

"Huh?" I stared at him. He'd made mincemeat out of me. I hadn't been able to do a thing to him.

"Most guys won't even go a second round with me," he said, reaching for the tequila bottle.

"Yeah, well." There wasn't anything else to say. Maybe they didn't like having him on top of them the way I did.

He slid a hand inside of his underwear. "Man, I gotta get this off." He grinned at me. "I should make you suck me off."

Much as I wanted to do it, I knew I couldn't admit it to him. Not then. I backed up against the headboard. "No way."

"I could make you."

"Yeah, you probably could," I admitted, which made him laugh.

He grabbed a bottle of lotion off my dresser, and squirted some into his hands before handing it to me. "Come on, buddy, we'll just go ahead and beat off. Beat off buddies, okay?"

Beat off buddies? I shrugged. "Okay."

He slid his underwear down, and sat back on the bed. I gulped and slid my own down, squirting the Jergens onto my own dick. He patted the bed next to him. "Sit here by me."

Naked, I sat down next to him, our legs almost touching. He then took his right leg and placed it over mine. He closed his eyes and started stroking his dick. I sat, stroking myself, watching him, my eyes wandering over his body, wondering how his nipples would taste in my mouth, wondering what his dick would taste like, what it would feel like to ...

And before I knew it, I came.

He opened his eyes and grinned at me. "You wanna help me out here, bud?"

I nodded.

"Suck on my nipples. That drives me crazy."

I leaned over and took his right nipple into my mouth. I felt his entire body stiffen as I began to suck on it, tease it with my tongue.

"Bite it," he commanded.

I did.

"Harder than that!"

I bit down hard.

He moaned and his entire body went rigid. "Ah, ah, AAAHHHHH!!!" He exploded, and I felt some of it get on my back.

I let go of his nipple and moved away from him.

"Nice job, buddy." He gave me a lazy grin. He grabbed my towel off the floor and wiped himself dry. "I knew I'd have a good time with you."

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. I sat there, naked, my come drying on me, as he got dressed. Once he'd finished tying his shoes, he walked over and leaned into me, and planted a deep kiss on my mouth.

"Till next time, buddy," he whispered, and then walked out of the room.

I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the door, and then reached for my bong.

Next time?

I smiled and took a hit. I heard the door at the foot of the steps slam. I picked up the framed picture. He'd left me some coke, and I took the dollar bill and snorted another line. I wiped up some of the debris and rubbed it on my gums. I took another bong hit, then got back into the bed and thought about what had just happened.

Kenny Frame was the last guy in the house I would have ever expected to have-well, it really wasn't sex, after all. How would you describe it? Wrestling between two brothers-jacking off together afterwards, and sucking on his nipples? And being kissed good-bye? I didn't understand any of it, none of it made any sense to me.

In one semester as a brother of Beta Kappa, I'd had some kind of sexual experience with six brothers out of eighty actives. I was in love with my big brother-we had sex together every chance we could grab. I'd had wrestling experiences with Chris and Eric together, and then again with Kenny. All three of them had acted like they would be more than happy to do it again as well. I'd fucked Marc Kearney and blown Rory Armagh.

Out of all of them, Rory was the only one who acted like it never happened.

Surely, there was more of this going on in the house than what I knew about. Blair had intimated on more than one occasion there was a lot of it. What had he said, back last summer?

"Straight boys don't care who get them off when they're fucked up. All they care about is shooting a load, and it doesn't matter whose mouth or hole it's in. If they think about it all when they sober it, they blame the booze or whatever because they're certainly not gay. "

Maybe I was being a little too oversensitive. Maybe I was just stoned or still a little drunk or coked up. But it didn't seem right. Why did Blair and I have to keep what we had a secret from the rest of the Brotherhood?

I thought back to some of the lessons we were taught throughout the pledge semester. A brother never lies to another brother

But every day, Blair and I lied to everyone about who we were. Not to the extreme that Chris and Eric did, or even Marc. Blair and I never tried to get in the pants of girls in front of the other brothers, never tried to prove over and over again that we were so masculine, so straight, that no one would ever suspect we actually were in love with each other, or would rather be with a guy than whatever drunk girl was handy at the moment.

Something was wrong with this picture.

Everything Beta Kappa stood for-its ideals, its creed, and so forth-none of it had anything to do with sexuality. It was all about a moral code-of loyalty to the house, of honesty and integrity, of being a good student and a contributing member of society.

Being in love with Blair did not make any of those things less possible for me. If anything, it had bound me tighter to the Brotherhood.

I took another bong hit, and grabbed my notebook and a pen.

I started writing.