("Revenge of the Coeds" is yet another true episode in the sexual story of my life. I am purging my soul. Telling of my past "sins" is part of my repentance.)
You may recall the real life story "Coffin Candy" that initiated my brief career as a lady of the evening. Angela, Suzanne and I did not get mad. We got even.
If you recall, the boys of Phi Gamma Nu drugged us, stiffed us in coffins and turned us into hookers. Paybacks are a bitch.
The first opportunity for revenge came shortly after Halloween, when Araqiel, Sparky and Jeremy invited us to their hunting camp. Most of the brothers of their fraternity hunted cunt, but for several days of the year they hunted deer.
We suspected that Araqiel, the president of Phi Gamma Nu, merely wanted to sell our services at the hunting camp and make a little money. You know, cheap blowjobs for everyone seemed like it might be on the agenda.
"Girls," Suzanne suggested, "if we are going to do this hunting camp thing right, we need the proper equipment." Angela and I nodded in agreement.
Off to Sam's Sporting Goods we went and bought identical blaze orange parkas, insulated bibs and caps with ear flaps. Next we needed deer rifles. Angela selected a Browning BPR, Suzanne a Marlin MR-7 and I a Savage 11F. We bought a case of beer, drank it and target-practiced on the cans. We also purchased a chainsaw. The Homelite seemed just right, easy to start and light enough to really whip around.
Suzanne got real excited about the chainsaw and tried it out on some small trees. “Hey, let’s watch ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ again before we leave for the hunting camp.” She got the tape and popped it in the VCR.
Suzanne suggested we watch “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” before heading off to the hunting camp, to get in the proper mood. That infamous movie of course depicts a cannibalistic family who tortures and chops up a group of friends visiting their parents’ graves in the country. Leatherface is the star psycho with the chainsaw, and wears a mask sewn together with human skin. His father sold barbecued human flesh at his gas station.
“You know,” Suzanne observed, “that movie is loosely based on a real-life serial killer, Ed Gein. That’s the same dude who inspired Norman Bates in “Psycho” and Buffalo Bill in “The Silence of the Lambs.”
One more piece of the puzzle seemed appropriate. I invited my old high school friend Sam to accompany us. He just happened to be visiting at the time. Sam likes boys much better than girls. Well, “his” name is Samantha these days, an account of which you can find in “A Boy Named Samantha.”
Araqiel gave us a map of the location of the hunting lodge so we could meet them there. The place was located in the heart of a national forest, in a small exclusive hunting community known as Black Ridge. Large numbers of trophy class whitetails populated this place. Didn’t seem like real hunting to me, but that’s not what my girlfriends and I had in mind anyway. We had much more interest in revenge.
It took us two hours to get to the hunting lodge. Awesome place, one story ranch-type log cabin that stood in a clearing miles from any other lodge. The interior consisted of only three rooms, two very large ones and a bathroom. No running water or electricity but other than that it seemed like home sweet home.
Four propane three-burner stoves handled the cooking functions. You could boil a quart of water in about four minutes on them. About ten kerosene lanterns provided lighting throughout the cabin. A large built-in fireplace heated one room and three portable patio hearth portable fireplaces provided heat in the other rooms as necessary. They could also be used outside as charcoal grills. Of course we had a portable toilet in the bathroom and a bathtub and sink. An unlimited supply of water could be hauled from a nearby stream.
We arrived at the lodge the day before the hunting began. Besides Araqiel, Sparky and Jeremy, a dozen other fraternity brothers showed up, and three other women. That first day and night turned into a drinking and dope-smoking binge. No one seemed that interested in sex, other than this one dude they nicknamed Purple Haze because he dropped a lot of acid.
In the middle of a drinking game called Thumper, Purple Haze suddenly stood up, unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and announced, “I need a blowjob.” I had to hold Sam back because he sure looked like he wanted to go get some. One of the other girls, Candace, eagerly knelt down in front of Purple Haze and sucked him off in about three minutes. He never even said “thanks” but just sat right back down and resumed playing the game.
The very first day of hunting all of the guys got their deer. This seemed like shooting fish in a barrel to me. I persuaded the girls not to go. First, I hate the taste of venison. Second, I don’t particularly care for shooting Bambi, not that there aren’t some other varmints I don’t mind plugging, especially the two-legged variety.