Service Fraternity

It was the most bodacious of times. It was the gnarliest of times. It was the '80s. I was in college. Here's what happened:

Chaz came into the Phi Upsilon Kappa study room, where I, Spencer Janssen Steenwijk, was reading a textbook. Chaz's slow gait caught my attention. I looked up and said, "Dude, what's up? Did you knock up your girlfriend?"

Chaz looked at me and quietly said, "I just walked in on Graham butt-fucking Weston."

"What?"

"I walked into our room and there they were on Graham's bed: butt-fucking."

"What!?"

"Graham barked at me, like, 'privacy, dude!' So I left."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"Fuckin' A, man."

Moment of silence.

"Was Weston enjoying it?" I winced: why did I ask that?

"Enjoying?"

I deflected: "Weird question. Sorry." I shrugged charmingly. My dimples and wavy blond hair tossed around a bit. "How big is Graham?"

"How

big

?"

The moment was interrupted or saved by Graham storming into the study. He said this: "Dude! Fucking knock next time!"

Chaz said, "you're a faggot!"

Graham clocked the little bitch. It was a minor cuff but it brought the cunt to attention.

"I am positively

not

a faggot. I was just plowing Weston's arse. I was 'getting it off', as one does."

Chaz and I were baffled. I gazed at Graham. I noted how the silken dressing robe clung to the taut body. There was a strong suggestion of dick against the sleek fabric. Graham noticed the gaze and tugged a little at the robe.

Chaz gaped and said, "you're a commie or something!"

Graham kept his eyes on me for a moment, brushed his lips with fingertips, then turned to Chaz and said, "You're a retard. What's buggery have to do with communism?"

"You were fucking a dude, dude! That makes you a fag!"

Graham pursed his lips and leveled his gaze on Chaz, who squirmed a bit.

"You two are prospects--froshes--you're not supposed to know about this particular...

aspect

of the house yet." He let the robe gape a little. I could see a languid cock. "We'll have to call a meeting. In the meantime, keep your pieholes shut. And if you call me a 'fag' again, worm-dick, I'll rip your nuts off." He turned on his heels and left the room.

* * *

"This session is now called to order!"

"Play ELO!"

"Eat shit and die!"

"When's the next toga party?"

"Alright, alright!" said the chair, "enough with the formalities. What's the deal, men? Why are we having this meeting?"

Graham Parkinson-Monroe stood and addressed the chair. "One of these dumbfucks," he said, gesturing at us, "walked in on a servicing session without knocking."

The chair, Parker Brewster-Phelps, steepled his fingers. It could have been mistaken for thoughtfulness. "Had you locked the door?"

Nonplussed, Graham said, "Mr. Chair, I had looped a tie around the doorknob."

All members of the frat council exhaled disbelievingly. The chair looked at us, the dumbfucks. "Basic signals and manners, gentlemen. Learn them. This meeting is adjourned."

Chaz leapt up and demanded attention by waving his hands. The chair allowed it.

"What do you want, douchebag?"

"What about the buttfucking? He was boning Weston in the ass! You should call the cops and arrest these queers!"

The room fell silent. Silence, when extended, can be an effective form of discipline. After a very long interval, the chair motioned to the sergeant-at-arms to play the boombox. Violent Femmes twanged out.

"You're a dick. Piss off. Move out."

Chaswell Wickford was beside himself with astonishment.

"Speak of this outside of this room and we'll lance your balls and do a bleach infusion. No offspring. It'll be a favor to mankind."

Chaz did some gibbering. He couldn't face being thrown out of one of the most prestigious fraternities on campus.

"Tradition, gentlemen," went on the chair. "That is what this fraternity is built on. Tradition is the source of our buggery and fellatio tradition. When this awesome university was founded, it was a men-only institution. The town was, and remains, pretty fucking puritanical. They didn't put up with whorehouses. It was a 'dry county'. You get my drift."

Chaz didn't. I did: it meant there was no snatch. As an accommodation to lack of twat, it meant license to bugger, license to suck. "Tradition" was perfect cover for a way to satisfy horniness. The possibilities started glowing warmly in my mind.

In my teenage years I had come to realize I was different from the other boys. Although I loved munching rug and fucking pussy as much as the next guy, I was also aroused by the next guy's body. I didn't know why. But I faced it on graduation day from high school. I remembered it like it was a few months ago...

* * *

I had run into my soccer coach after the graduation ceremony. He smiled at me lopsidedly and I felt myself melt a little. He was so hot. I had overheard a lot of girls and even some guys comment on his sexiness, comparing him to Tom Selleck.

"Spencer," he said, "I'm losing the best center I've ever coached."

"Thanks, Coach."

He pulled me into a hug. It went on a little too long. I got hard. I felt him get hard. He stuck his tongue in my ear. I almost passed out. He put his hand against my groin and groped. His office was a few steps down the hall. We went in, he sank to his knees, parted the graduation gown, undid my belt, unzipped the trousers, yanked them down along with my underwear, and whistled with admiration. He looked up at me. Of course I knew I was big, but that bright desire in his eyes caught me off guard, and it was intoxicating. He looked back at my cock, spit into his palm, then curled his hand around my prick and stroked it. He repeated this until my cock was gleaming and slick. He looked up into my eyes again and said, "You ever hear of Chad Douglas?"

"No."

"Jeff Stryker?"

"No."

He looked back at my dick and ran his tongue across his top lip. "It doesn't matter." And then he just sort of swallowed my cock--took it down to the root. I almost shit myself. His nose was in my crinkly hairs. I could feel his chin stubble on my nuts. How was he not choking to death? He joggled his head with my dick down his throat and his face pressed against my pubic bone. I could feel his tongue massaging the underside. I was a little scared and about to push him away when he pulled off himself, gasped for air, and grabbed the base. Then he began sucking in earnest.

Up till then, I thought I had had blowjobs, but I was mistaken--I never had one like this. No cheerleader had ever sucked my dick like it was a matter of life or death for her, but coach was. Later on I came to understand that need, that hunger, so particularly masculine.

It wasn't too long before this vigorous, masterful fellatio brought me to the brink.

"Gonna blow!"

The coach pulled off most of the way and jerked me with the head of my cock still in his mouth. He suckled and swirled his tongue around it as his hand stroked me off. After a few seconds I felt a surge pulse through my rod, followed by what seemed like a thousand more pulses. Coach took almost all of it, grunting with a feral delight. He couldn't gulp the whole load, not with the output I had that afternoon, but he tried.

Fat drools of jizz leaked from the corners of his lips. He stood up and wiped the errant cum into his mouth. He stroked my jaw, then swatted my ass.

"Good luck in college, Spencer," he said.

* * *

Back to now: the chair was going on. "That's why 'servicing' is a vital role for every member of the fraternity. Some of us are available for buggery and some of us for fellatio. Ample supply to meet the--

heh

--ample demand." Chortles all around.

"I'm not doing either of those! This has got to be against the law, somehow!"

"Now that you two know, we'll need to test you. Normally we wait until spring semester, but circumstances have changed."

Chaz blanched. "'Tested'?"

Parker said, "each of you will be buggered twice and suck two cocks to find where your pleasures and skills lie."

"What do you mean 'pleasures'?" I asked.

Dalton Tate, sophomore (and easily the sexiest boy in the fraternity), said, "It may surprise you to know that most men enjoy getting it in the ass. And a lot of men find sucking dick enjoyable. Last year, before testing, I had the same reaction as you two, but after testing I found myself struggling to decide which I preferred!"

"And what'd you land on?"

Dalton gave me an appraising look. "I give head."

Graham added, "He gives

really

good head."

Dalton nodded at the senior. "Thank you, Graham."

Parker, the chair, continued. "The buggery will consist of one finishing in the ass and one coming on the prospect's back. The cocksucking will, similarly, consist of swallowing one load and taking one in the face. We must be careful, gentlemen! Those are also preferences that must be determined."

"Jesus H. Christ!" said Chaz.

"Can we mix?" I asked.

The chair said, "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's say I've got a chick over and want to spice it up a little. Let's say I'm a fellator and so she and I share a guy's cock."

"Oh, well, naturally occurring threesomes are fine as long as you don't reveal our practices to outsiders." He paused and looked at me curiously. "I have to say you don't seem at all dismayed by this."

I smiled winningly. "I'm adventurous."

"Well, I'm not!" screamed Chaz. "This is sick and wrong! I'm going to tell the university president!"

"Do that and you're out."

Chaz hesitated. The chair filled the silence with this observation: "You have no real evidence to back up your claims. And, as I recall, you were desperate to get into this house, so trying to bring it down over this seems odd. Finally, the president is an alum."

Chaz was quiet.

"Give it a chance, Chaswell," said Dalton. "I think you'll be enlightened."

* * *

Garland and Sebastian were our firsts. I guess they were chosen for being about average size; easier to break us in. Garland told us to grease up our buttholes, then he and Sebastian stroked themselves with lube to get hard. It was showtime.

Sebastian got behind me and dragged the head of his cock up and down my crack a few times. He seemed hesitant. On the other bed Chaz was saying, "Ow! Slow down! Fuck!"

I looked at Sebastian over my shoulder. "Smack my asshole a few times. It'll relax me."

"With my hand?"

"Jesus, with your dick, man!"

Sebastian thwacked his cock against my butthole. I urged him to stick a finger in; he was shy to do so. Finally, I told him to line it up at my hole and brace himself.

I thrust back hard and regretted it. It hurt like fuck. It hurt like a stubbed asshole. It was like getting a stick pushed into your eye. Sebastian stopped dead at my yelp, but he was fully in. I reached back to hold him still. I felt the shaft in me, like a turd arrested in mid-shit. I got used to it.

I suggested, "start fucking me, dude--slowly, at first."

Sebastian drew out and slid back in. It was easier now--in, out...in, out. Yes, I could get used to this.

I heard Chaz grunting and panting raggedly. "Oh, fuck, yeah! Uhhhn...uhhnn! Jesus, man, fuck my ass!"

I guess he had come around. So had I. This thrusting cock was putting me over the moon. Who knew getting corn-holed could send such a raw jolt up the spine?

So: prick in my asshole--piledriving, reaming, drilling. Sebastian interrupted my reverie with some coarse words. "You like this in your boy-pussy? You like this big cock up your shit-chute?"

"What're you?" I snarled.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you a cocksucker or a boy-pussy?"

There was a long pause. "I'm a bottom," he muttered.

I snorted and said, "Then after we're past this testing, I'm going to pound your asshole!"

He kind of growled and started thrusting into me harder, brutally, with complete abandon. Finally! Jesus, what's it take to get guys to fuck like they mean it?

Chaz was whimpering with pleasure off to my right. "Goddammit! Oh, fuck! Oh, daddy! I'm gonna--uhh! Uhh!" And he shot his load onto the bed sheets. Garland pulled out and stroked himself a few times, then spewed a few lines of cum along Chaz's back. I'm sure Sebastian was watching this, too, because I noticed he was beginning to pant more rapidly.

I pulled off him and flopped onto my back, pulling my legs up and locking my hands behind my knees.

"Fuck me like this."

After a second of hesitation, Sebastian repositioned himself at my hole and pushed in again. I looked at his face; he avoided looking at mine. I said, "If you're gonna fuck a man in the ass, at least look at him."

He looked at me. I reached up and stroked his upper arms. He had nice arms. I put my hands on his chest and tweaked his nipples with my thumbs. I think that really turned him on. His eyes drilled into mine. His breathing was pretty labored, he was pounding my hole with beautiful aggression, then his eyes seemed to lose focus and roll back in their sockets.

"When you're ready, try to come on my face," I said.

"Fuck!" he said. He pulled out and jerked himself until big bursts of cum shot out and pelted my face and neck and chest. I scooped up some of his semen and used it to jerk myself off. It was slick and warm. Sebastian was still panting heavily, coming down off his orgasm. He fondled my balls. Within a few seconds I was shooting my own load. A few ropes of my jism arced up a couple of feet and splattered back on my chest. The remaining spurts were not as strong, but there were a lot of them. My chest and abdomen were coated.

"Shit, dude," said Sebastian, laughing, "you've got a real cannon there!" He handed me a cumrag, then he and Garland got back in their robes and left.

* * *

Weston and Graham came next. Blowjob test number one.

I'm going to jump ahead here and reveal that I won (I know: it wasn't a contest--but, still, I won). Chaz was terrible. I quickly learned how to take a cock deep, how to slather the balls with spit, how to give attention to the head.

Here's how it went: Graham came over and pushed me onto my knees, which I found a total turn-on. I started rubbing his bulge. I could feel him harden. I undid his chinos and slipped them down. He crushed my face against his BVDs, and I gnawed on his prick through the fabric. He pulled them down, then grabbed his swelling cock and smacked me on the forehead and cheeks with it. His penis was nothing to laugh at, let me tell you. He kept teasing my open mouth by lightly brushing the head over my lips, then slapping my face with it. I had enough of that; I grabbed his dick and took the head into my mouth.

"Aggressive," he said. "Not bad."

I glared up at him and started swallowing his meat. I almost gagged, but his dick lurched past that trigger point and entered my gullet. It was like Coach had done to me. My nose was in his thatch. The odor was strong, like the smell of my jockstrap after a soccer match. I grumbled and hummed. He gasped.

"Fuck, dude, you're a natural! Or are you already a regular cocksucker? You do that? Visit truckstops and suck off the fat-ass long-haulers?"

I finally pulled off and took a breath. I glared up at him again. He smirked. Then I went back down on him, trying to mimic the blowjob Coach had given me. My slobber made his cock slick and drippy.

Chaz pulled off Weston and asked, "Is this the swallow one or the facial one?"

"One of each," said Weston. "We flipped a coin to determine who'd spunk on the face and who'd feed you our slime."

"So which am I?" asked Chaz.

"You'll find out, won't you? Now get back on it! You're not putting much effort into it."

"I can't fit very much without gagging!"

"Then use your hand, too!"

Distractions aside, I was intent on sucking the lovely cock in my mouth. I made eye contact with Graham often, which I realized was a turn-on for me too. I pulled off and stroked his meat as I washed his balls with my mouth and tongue. They were already soaked with my saliva. I took one in my mouth and woggled it with my tongue, and I stroked faster. He was breathing pretty heavily by this point.

"Suck me, man," he panted.

I released his balls and took his cock back down my throat. He gasped. I grabbed his strong thighs and pulled him against my face, smashing my nose into his pubes. I couldn't believe I could swallow his whole length; I think he couldn't either. He grabbed my head and took over the face-fucking duties. I reached up and tweaked his nipples, which made him gasp more. He had a fine, strong chest that was mostly hairless. His hands held my head still as he plunged his cock repeatedly down my throat. He was getting very close, his breathing now a rapid panting.

He suddenly let go of my head, pulled his dick out of my mouth and started stroking it vigorously. I kept my mouth open and waited. I watched eagerly, fascinated by the head-on view of his cock. The first shot of cum erupted from the pisshole and hit me around the mouth and chin. I caught a few shots in my mouth and felt the hot gooey cum on my tongue and I tasted its cloroxy oatmeal flavor. Weird as hell, but that odd stench was intoxicating. I swirled his jism around in my mouth before swallowing.

Off to the left of me, Chaz coughed and spat cum. He shouted, "Bluh! I think I'm gonna ralph!"

I noticed Graham was looking at me with a slight but warm smile. He wiped a finger over my cheek and put it in my mouth. It was more of his spunk. I sucked it clean.

* * *

The next day, the third round of testing was, again, blowjobs. Fine by me. Blaine Willoughby and Connor Hassenfeld came in. They disrobed and told us to lay on the bed with our heads hanging down off the edge of the mattress. I eyed Connor's big dick and fat balls with sleazy anticipation. But he chose to bless Chaz's mouth with his burgeoning endowment.

I had a crush on him. Like me, he was athletic but not serious about it. We both excelled at jai alai and fencing and crew, but those were just enjoyable pastimes.

They instructed us to start with licking their nuts and the undersides of their dicks. Blaine had a decent cock and really low-hanging balls. He moved his hips so his plums whacked my nose and mouth and chin as I tried to get my tongue on them. Like before, the smell of male crotch was dizzying. I reached around his legs and grabbed his ass with both hands to still him. I took one of his balls in my mouth and lavished it with saliva. Then I did the other one. Blaine rubbed his cock against my forehead, rolling it side to side. I massaged his buttcheeks as I worked on his balls. He pulled back and told me to lick the underside. I got it good and wet. He frequently grabbed his dick and rubbed it over my face, gently whacking my forehead, my cheeks, and my nose with his hefty sausage. I continued trying to swath the underside with my tongue. Yeah, I could get used to this.

Connor called a halt and said, "Okay, gentlemen, we're going to do a playoff. Spencer and Chaz: get on the bed and sixty-nine each other. First one to come is out. The winner will then sixty-nine with Blaine until one of you comes. If one of you test subjects is the winner of that, you and I will face off."

I fully intended to win. I wanted to get my lips around Connor's brawny schlong.

Round One: Chaz versus Spencer

Long story short: I was swallowing Chaz's copious emissions within about four minutes. I barely had even a buzz in my balls from his efforts.

Round Two: Blaine versus Spencer

Blaine was a cocksucker who knew his job. He used a lot of tongue and suction while his hand stroked my shaft. I mirrored him for a while. I loved the head of his cock: it was pink and swollen and broad, perfect for nibbling and tonguing and gnawing. My spit soon had it soaking wet. I pulled off and diddled his frenulum with my thumb as I tongued his pisshole and jerked him off. But his skills were getting me close.