Flashing The Frat

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events or people, living, dead, or fictional is entirely unintended. Sexual activity should occur only between consenting adults in the absence of coercion. What is sexy in fantasy may be appalling in reality; do not confuse the one for the other.

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The engine of Mila's twenty year old Corolla grumbled quietly as we drove through the night. We were bound by silence as she picked her way down unfamiliar streets. I knew why we were here, doing what we were doing, but the flutter in my stomach wouldn't let me forget even for a moment.

It had been several months since my adventure in the library. I'd called Chris and let him take me out for coffee. I don't think I stopped blushing the whole time- all I could think about was how his cock felt in my hand. From his occasional sly grin, I think he kept remembering what I looked like with his cum on my tits! That could have been the end of it, but I'd had a good time. So when he called and asked a couple of days later, I let him take me out to dinner. Before long, we were dating and it had been glorious. He was smart, and good natured, and he was a good kisser.

Chris was good at other things too. After four years known only as flat chested "pancakes" Drake, I finally had a boyfriend and I was taking advantage. It didn't take long until, while we were making out, Chris started to slide his hand up under my shirt. My heart pounded faster but I just leaned into his grasp, enjoying the feeling of his fingers cupping my b-cup breast. I gasped as he lifted my shirt and took one nipple, and then the other, into his mouth. I have never been so grateful not to be wearing a bra! If that moment was magical, the first time he slipped his fingers inside my pants, and my panties, and then inside me, was absolutely mind-blowing. Paul Hopkins, my nemesis from high school, had gone down on me in the supply closet of the art building but my orgasm then was nothing compared to what Chris did to me that night. Whereas Paul had only been trying to worm his way into receiving a blowjob, just trying to get to his own pleasure, Chris was focused on mine. Too bad I'd heard Paul had transferred to another school; it might have been fun to tell him how bad he was at eating pussy.

I'd learned some things too, of course. I'd spent plenty of time exploring his cock with my eyes and my hands. I loved the way he gasped when I trailed my fingers over him and then stroked him back and forth. I loved the way his cock felt- hard, and springy, and warm against my skin. That night in the Mag definitely wasn't the only time Chris came on my tits and I'd become familiar with the sharp tangy smell of his cum. He especially liked it when I scooped a little of it onto my fingers and licked it off! The semester came to an end all too quickly and before we went home for the holidays I gave him a surprise.

When he came to pick me up for dinner I wordlessly pulled him into my room, shoved him against a wall, and dropped to my knees. I'd talked to Mila about what to do, and watched (and giggled over) a couple of movies to get some pointers. As I opened his jeans Chris did not disappoint; his cock sprang out at attention. I grinned up at him, nearly laughing at the bug-eyed look on his face, before opening my mouth and sucking him in. I might have prepared for this, but it was still my first time, and I didn't take him in very deeply. But I pumped my hand up and down on what wouldn't fit in my mouth, and licked him eagerly. I could tell immediately that I liked the feeling of his penis in my mouth, the taste of it on my tongue. Shivers of pleasure raced up my spine with the gasps he made each time my head lowered onto his manhood. After what seemed like only a few moments he moaned, "Oh, shit, Lana, I'm gonna nut!" I just pumped my mouth up and down on him faster and was rewarded with a jet of hot, salty cum. I kept sucking until he was done, then leaned backwards, looked up and him and swallowed.

"I just wanted to make sure you don't forget about me over the break," I said, smiling up at him.

He laughed breathlessly, "Never! That was incredible! Do you... uh... I mean, I could..."

I leaned forward, kissed the tip of his cock, and tucked it gently back into his pants before standing.

"Later. Despite my little snack, I AM hungry."

He took me to dinner, and there was a later, and he definitely did not forget about me over the break.

My return in the spring wasn't without its challenges, though. Mila and I had decided to switch roommates and move in together, which was great, but only a week after school began again I came home to find her crying quietly. She didn't want to tell me at first, but a couple of tissues and a cup of tea hastily made with our electric kettle later, the story came pouring out of her. It was her dad. He'd spent decades working the state government, first in a warehouse, and then managing a warehouse. It had been hard labor but he'd been good at it and had never complained. He was now just six months from his pension vesting, and it looked like a back injury was going to catch up with him. If he kept working the way he was, his back might get so bad that he'd effectively be paralyzed. But if he stopped working, Mila's family would lose its main source of income and the pension would go up in smoke. There was a treatment, but the insurance company called it "elective" unless the worst had already happened. After scrimping and saving and going to whatever family they could, they were still short of what the procedure would cost by several thousand dollars and they had no collateral for a loan. I had known that Mila's family wasn't rich, not least from all the jobs she took to make money, but I had not idea it was this bad.

My elation at how things were going with Chris was eclipsed by Mila's quiet misery. She considered selling her car, but would never make anywhere near what she needed. She picked up work where she could, but there just weren't enough modeling jobs to do the trick. Besides, she had to be selective about which jobs she took. There are a lot of iffy guys who want nude models and the last thing she could afford was to show up on some porn site. I wished that I could help, but I didn't have anywhere near that much money. Day by day, her dad kept working, inching closer to a disaster that we could not avoid.

Six weeks later I knew something changed when I came home to discover Mila pawing through her clothes with more energy than I'd seen in a long time. Mila was tall, with olive skin, shiny black hair and, to be blunt, large boobs that just would not quit. Moreover, thanks for patience and a lot of second hand bargain hunting, she had the closet to make the most of her assets. I was quite a contrast at average height, with pale skin and more modest breasts. But my legs were long and my ass was firm from regular runs. We couldn't share clothes, but she'd been a huge help as I came out of my shell!

"Mila? What's up?" I asked, setting my books down next to my bed.

I saw hope in her eyes, and more than a bit of anxiety, "I found something and... I think it could help my dad."

I answered without hesitation, "How can I help?"

Mila smiled weakly and shook her head, "Lana, I knew you would say that but... take a look at this and then really think about whether you want to ask that?"

She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it over. I unfolded it to discover a recruitment flyer. The first two lines in big block letters told the story.

"SIGMA NU SPRING WET T-SHIRT EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

GRAND PRIZE: $8,000"

My eyes shot back up to meet hers, "You're going to-"

She nodded firmly, "Yes, I am. It's not that different from art modeling, right? And you know I've got the rack for it. I think I have a good shot!"

I shut my mouth with a snap and just stared at her for a moment before nodding gently. She was right, of course. It'd be louder, and wetter, obviously, but she was already used to taking off her clothes for strangers. Flashing her tits to a room full of drunk frat boys should be a piece of cake.

"And," she continued more quietly, "I'd like you to do it, too."

Before I could say anything she pressed on with her explanation. The event wasn't happening at our university, but at the state ag college about an hour away. Nobody there would know us here. If we both competed there'd be a better chance that one of us might win, and her dad needed about another $5,000 to get the procedure. If either of us won, we'd give $5,000 to her dad and then I'd take the remaining cash.

"What do you think?" She said at last, biting her lip nervously.

"I think," I began, "that just once it'd be nice if you came up with a money making opportunity that let me keep my clothes on."

Mila snickered and put one hand over her mouth.

"Oh, god, I hadn't even thought of it that way!"

"Mila, you've got it," I said, smiling, "This can help your dad and it isn't like I haven't showed my tits off before."

She pulled me into a bear hug and whispered into my ear, "Thank you, Lana. You're the best!"

We spent the rest of the evening planning how to maximize our chances. That night she went to sleep quickly for the first time in a long time. I, on the other hand, dreamed of dancing topless for a room full of athletic young men and woke to find my fingers drowsily stroking my clit. Mila might think I was doing her a favor, but I wasn't entirely sure she wasn't doing one for me!

The next few weeks were busy, with classes, with Chris, and with preparing for the contest. We had to submit forms to be competitors, including photographs. We were warned that we had to bring our own t-shirts and shorts, so we had to find something that would suit our needs. And we had to do the necessary personal prep work, which involved a good bit of waxing. Chris knew Mila and I were working on some sort of project and I let him think it was for school. The truth is, I wasn't sure how he'd handle it if he knew what was really going on.

When the day came we threw our stuff into Mila's old car and set off for our future. The drive began cheerfully enough, but the closer we got the more real it became. For Mila, this was her best, maybe her only, chance to really help her dad. One way or another it would be over soon and that reassuring "maybe" that had sustained her recently would have become certainty, or have been snuffed out. For me, I was more and more aware that this time it wouldn't be a small crowd of artists staring at my tits, and I couldn't decide if I was more scared or more turned on by the idea.

I supposed we'd know soon enough because Mila was pulling into a parking lot behind a large house. There were cars everywhere and a muscular man in a Sigma Nu shirt blocked our way until we showed him our IDs and he found our names on his list. He gave us both grins, his eyes dropping only briefly to try to get a look at our chests, before waving us to spots reserved for the competitors. We left spare clothes, snacks and towels in the car and walked to the back of the house dressed only in thin white t-shirts and cheap cotton shorts. Mila wore a plain white shirt, through which you could just see the faint outlines of her wide nipples. I'd elected for a man's v-neck undershirt that clung tightly to my less impressive assets. The cold air made my nipples poke up firmly under the flimsy cloth. We'd both made some careful cuts in our shirts, at the hem and again at the collar. We had a plan.

A door was propped open, light pooling outside the threshold, with a sign posted on the side reading, "Competitors enter here!" We gave each other a glance and then went inside, following signs that led us to a small living room. It was full of young women dressed more or less the way we were. Some were taller even than Mila, others were quite short. One girl looked like she'd barely come up to my shoulder but had breasts the size of grapefruit. Her face was round, with a sharp triangular nose and short, straight black hair.

Mila nudged me with her elbow and nodded at the side of the room where four girls were clustered around a folding table supporting stacks of red solo cups and bottles of fruity alcohol.

"I guess they figured some of us would need some courage," she whispered.

"Not us though," I answered.

She looked at me and smiled briefly, "No, not us."

We checked in with another Sigma Nu brother, who marked our names on a form on his clipboard. I was surprised he didn't try to sneak a peak at anything and suddenly realized who Sultans had usually gotten to work as harem guards. I didn't think he actually WAS a eunuch, but it'd do as a nickname. As I turned to walk away I crashed into someone right behind me and managed to whack my head hard on their chin.

"Ow! Watch where you're going you stupid bitch!" She snapped at me, pressing one hand to her jaw.

My first impression, other than that she was rude, was that she was tall. My second was that she was a fucking goddess. Tight muscular legs met at a small triangle of fabric that was barely enough to cover her pubic mound. Her shirt was cropped so short that it barely covered her breasts and had a huge scoop neck displaying a wealth of cleavage. I didn't know how large her boobs were, but they were big and seemed to defy gravity. She had a lovely symmetric face framed by straight, shining brown hair. As far as I could tell, the only ugly thing about her was the look on her face as she stared at me.

"Whatever, get out of my way," she snarled, "A flat chested little thing like you might just want the attention, but some of us intend to win!"

Mila bristled beside me, "What did you just-"

"No, Mila, it's fine," I said quickly, putting a hand on her arm and dragging her away.

As we walked off I heard her give her name, Heather, to the Eunuch. Inside I didn't feel nervous anymore, I just felt cold, the same way I felt in high school when people called me "pancakes". Mila, on the other hand, was seething.

"I can't believe what she said to you! I should kick her ass."

"Yeah?" I answered, "Best case, they still let you compete but you look like you've been in a fight. Worst case, they kick you out for messing up the talent. Either way, we lose and so does your dad."

Her tirade cut off mid-stream and she stared at me for a long moment before letting her shoulders slump, "Shit, Lana, that was cold."

I shrugged, "Eyes on the prize, Mila."

We didn't have long to wait; not more than ten minutes later Eunuch got up on a chair, whistled to get our attention, and began explaining things. We'd divide up into five groups of five. One group would go out, do our thing, and then the crowd would choose the winner. Then they'd move off of the stage to make way for the next group. Once all five groups had gone, the winners from each group would go back out for a head-to-head competition. He started to divide us up and, after a brief exchange of whispers, Mila and I hastily moved away from each other. If we were in the same group, at best one of us might make it through. But if we were in different groups, our chances were far better.

I ended up in a group with two blondes, a brunette, and a black haired girl with dreads. My auburn hair would make me stand out, I hoped. My breasts looked to be bigger than one of the girls, but smaller than the rest, but I had a plan for that. And I was quietly confident that my legs and ass were better than my competition. Mila had ended up the tallest in her group, and to my eye the hottest. Heather was in a last group, which was just as well. Nasty she might be, but I suspected she'd be the one to beat, so I was glad we wouldn't face her in the first round. She saw me looking from across the room and shot me a contemptuous look before deliberately ignoring me.

Eunuch led the first group out of the room; as the door opened I could hear loud music thumping from somewhere distant in the house. It was starting. The next ten or so minutes were an agony but I managed to keep my anxiety, and my eagerness, from my face. And then Eunuch was back and it was my turn. My group walked out and down a long hallway, the music and cheering growing ever louder. We made a turn and came to a halt outside a pair of double doors. I could hear someone shouting through a microphone on the other side.

"Okay everyone," he boomed, "let's give it up for our next group of lucky ladies!"

The cheering surged and Eunuch threw the doors open, waving us forward urgently. The scene crashed over us like a tidal wave. Thumping music, a sea of male voices cheering, the smell of beer and sweat, and a pulse of heat from too many bodies packed too tightly together. I was third in line and stunned for just a moment by the intensity but the first girl, the one with dreads, started forward without flinching. I'd recovered by the time it was my turn and I strutted into the room and up a set of stairs with my shoulders back, my breasts thrust out, and a smile on my face.

I reached the top of the stairs, walked out on a broad stage until I reached the middle, and then turned to face the audience. We were lit up with spotlights hung from the ceiling so I couldn't see anything clearly, but I could hear a seething mass of people. As my eyes adjusted I saw a crowd made up almost entirely of men, with only a leavening of women here and there. They were cheering, singing, and shouting, as much at each other as at us. There was no way a crowd like this could just be the fraternity! I realized with a shiver that they must have been selling tickets! I looked to my left and saw two fraternity brothers in Sigma Nu shirts walking towards the girl with the dreads. The first was holding a microphone, followed by the second holding a large pitcher of ice water. Just past them I could see the girls of the first group; one was topless, two had tied their shirts back together after ripping them open, and the other two had clearly not taken them off. From their expressions, I was pretty sure the girl with bare breasts had won the first round.

Obvious thing is obvious, I know.

The brothers reached dreads and the announcer started talking, "Hi there, sweetie! What's your name?"

She leaned forward slightly to answer, "I'm Shanae!"

"Well we're glad to have you, Shanae! Are you ready?"

She screamed, "yeah," and put her arms up like she was excited about a touchdown. Without missing a beat, the other brother stepped forward and poured the water over her chest. Her shirt clung to her breasts, turning translucent in the bright spotlights, while she squealed at the cold. Ice cubes rattled off of the floor. A third brother hurried a new pitcher of ice water out to exchange for the now empty one and the brothers moved down the line. The process repeated, this time with "Tiffany," and the pitcher was dumped over her jiggling breasts. Then it was my turn.

As the brothers walked up, the announcer gave me a look over from top to bottom before leaning in, "All right, honey, you look good enough to eat! What's your name?"

I hoped my smile didn't look fake as I answered, "I'm Lana and I'm ready to show off!" throwing in a couple of loud "woo woos" for good measure.

I met the eye of the brother with the pitcher, raised my arms, and laced my fingers together behind my neck, thrusting my chest out. He grinned and raised the pitcher. I barely had time to register it tipping over before the shock of freezing cold water slammed into my breasts. I squeaked a little bit, but once the initial surprise passed the cold was actually refreshing in the kiln-like room. My shirt was plastered to my chest and nearly transparent, my tight nipples easily visible. My flimsy shorts were soaking wet too. As they moved to the next girl in line, I began to sway back and forth in place to the music.