Candace And The Frat Boys Ch 01

Candace and the Frat Boys (Chapter 1)

Kathryn M. Burke

Candace Merrill was having a really bad day.

To be frank, she was having a bad couple of years. Her career was not so bad: she was head of the Development Office at Lorimer College in Brookline, Massachusetts—which basically meant that she spent all day begging alumni and anyone else she could think of to donate money so that the college wouldn't have to dip too much into its pitifully small endowment. It could have been worse, but it wasn't the most stimulating job one could imagine.

But her personal life was a shambles. Two years ago, her husband of twenty years had ditched her for a younger woman (naturally), leaving her, at the age of forty-two, to fend for herself in the utterly dispiriting world of middle-aged dating. It had been months before she had even attempted to find a replacement for her faithless ex, and when she did so she found that men in their late thirties or early forties were beset with so many "issues"—custody battles with vengeful spouses; spoilt teenage children who gave their father's "girlfriend" no respect whatsoever; guys who either wanted her only for sex or only to sympathize with them because

their

wives had left them for more appealing husbands—that the whole business became a sorry joke. Every now and then she had shed her clothes with these jerks just for relief (vibrators and dildos only went so far, after all); but she always felt soiled afterwards, never returning the pathetically eager calls of her bedmates who wanted nothing more than an endless succession of repeat performances.

I mean, what guy turns down free sex?

Was she really getting too old to attract a decent man—not only one who was gainfully employed and who had a good relationship with his children (or, better yet, had

no

children), but who had something approximating charisma or charm or (dare she think of it?) sex appeal?

She

still had sex appeal, or so she liked to believe. At five foot eight, she was tall for a woman; and her firm but expansive breasts (38D, if you please) and succulent curves in the area of her posterior still caused more than one male gaze to focus on her as she walked the streets.

She had initially enjoyed being on this small but lively campus when she had first arrived seven years ago: the arrival of fresh-faced eighteen-year-olds every year had rejuvenated her, casting her mind back to her own (pretty wild) college days; but now these kids seemed exactly that—little children who seemed to get younger and more naïve with each passing semester, and who therefore emphasized in the most pungent possible way that

she

wasn't getting any younger.

Maybe that's why, on this Friday evening in early September, she found herself wandering around campus looking for some distraction.

She certainly didn't want to go home just yet: she had no plans for the evening (certainly no date) or, indeed, for the entire weekend; the idea of getting together with one of her numerous girl friends—middle-aged like her, several of them divorced or in unhappy marriages—was not appealing at all. Female solidarity and bonding were all fine, but it could get awfully depressing at times. What she needed was noise and laughter and maybe some alcohol—anything to relieve herself of the burden of thinking.

And where else to go but to the frat houses?

Several of these houses had a pretty bad reputation on campus—either as places where the liquor flowed to excess or where young women were first plied with that selfsame alcohol and then (if they hadn't passed out) pressured to "put out" for the rowdy men of the establishment. Candace smiled cynically to herself, recalling that she had been just such a sweet young thing twenty-five years ago, but was now a "mature" woman who could fend off predatory males with a withering look or cutting remark. In fact, as she made her way to one frat house that seemed to be particularly noisy and chaotic at the moment, she wondered whether she might find some amusement in witnessing the sexual downfall of some wide-eyed coed who hadn't any idea what she was getting into (or, more pertinently, what was getting into her). Okay, she really should take the girl's side in such a situation—or maybe she would just be a neutral observer of the shenanigans.

She didn't quite catch what the name of the fraternity was—it might have been Delta Pi—but that didn't concern her. It was boisterous and full of people apparently having a good time, and that was enough for her.

As she drifted in, she was indeed just an observer at first. What else could she be, since she didn't know a single soul here? There was a long table in the back of the room she found herself in, and what seemed to be plastic cups, bowls of munchies, and bottles of beer for the taking. Beer wasn't exactly to her liking, but it would do in a pinch—but then she saw a flowing bowl that could only be spiked punch, and she made a beeline for it.

Yes, it was definitely spiked! Probably with vodka, which was largely tasteless and therefore a perfect addition to the sickly-sweet fruit juice that made up the bulk of the contents. Just the thing to get unwary girls wobbly on their feet! (Of course, too much alcohol would have bad effects on a guy's performance as well: she'd encountered that all too often on some of her more dispiriting dates.)

As she poured out a generous helping into a plastic cup, she took the drink in her hand and sauntered over to where a bunch of students—mostly men, but also two women—were chatting in a circle.

She was pleased to see that the men gazed up at her with a certain appreciation. One of them even patted the empty seat next to him and said, "Hey, lady, welcome to the party! Come sit down here!"

She took her time doing so, not wishing to convey the impression that she wasn't in control of her own actions.

The two women in the group were nothing to write home about. She couldn't tell if they were actually girlfriends of any of the guys here or were unattached; probably the latter, if the nervous looks they gave to the men in the circle, and the hesitant sips they took from the cups of punch they had in their hands, were any indication. It was hard to tell what the conversation had been about before she had arrived, but her presence suddenly seemed to shift everyone's attention to her.

"Don't recognize you!" one guy said loudly after pointedly licking his lips with a thick tongue. "Are you from around here?"

That's a pretty dopey question,

she thought.

Where the hell else would I be from?

But she decided to be polite. "I work on campus, in administration."

Several men's eyes lit up at that response. Their thought processes were all too apparent:

Well, you're not a professor, so if I have a roll in the hay with you, I won't get into trouble, will I? If you do, that's your lookout.

No one, mercifully, seemed to care what she actually did "in administration." One guy tried to be gallant and said: "You're a fine-looking lady!"

"Thank you," she said with a smirk.

Another guy—more subdued, and almost shy—said, "What's your name, ma'am?"

What's with the "ma'am"? It makes me feel a hundred years old.

"Candace," she said.

"Like Candace Bergen?" some other guy spat out.

"Yeah, like that."

"That's a lovely name," the shy guy said—and she could have sworn he blushed.

Can you really be such a rube?

"What are you doing here?" someone else said.

"Just looking for a good time," she said—before she realized the

double entendre

in that remark.

Several guys whooped with laughter, even slapping their hands on their thighs. Several spoke at once: "Sure, we'll show you a good time!" "You've come to the right place!" "We love ladies like you!"

She figured it wasn't worth the effort to say, "I didn't mean it like that." Anyway, maybe she

did

mean it like that!

But then she heard one girl say to the other in a not-so-soft whisper, "She's old enough to be their mother."

When the other girl giggled like the teenager that she was, Candace got steamed.

"I'm old enough to be

your

mother, too," she said acidly. "And maybe I'll take you over my knee and give you a good spanking."

That made the guys howl even more raucously, some of them flamboyantly doubling over in merriment. But the girl who had spoken wasn't amused.

"I'd like to see you try," she said sullenly.

"Oh, I can't be bothered," Candace said coolly. "I have a better idea."

And that's how it started.

Candace got up, stalked over to the center of the circle of students, and glared at the girl. "Let's see what you got."

And she unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it away.

Standing proudly with her chest thrust out, even if still covered with her bra, she made a fine picture of ripe womanhood. Her action was so startling to everyone concerned that a hush suddenly descended upon the group.

To be honest, Candace resorted to this tactic precisely because she noticed that the smart-ass girl was considerably less well-endowed than she was. She was petite in every way, including her boobs. Even so, her friend—who was a little more curvy but overall fairly nondescript—egged her on by saying:

"C'mon, Brenda, don't let her bully you. Your assets are every bit as good as hers."

Brenda, looking totally spooked, stood up hesitantly and, giving the guys—who were now all fixated on her, waiting to see how she would respond to this unorthodox challenge—uneasy looks while she scrabbled at the buttons of her blouse. Candace could also tell that Brenda was blushing crimson as she engaged in this unwilling striptease. At last she got all the buttons undone, and she tossed the blouse away with entirely false bravado as she displayed her chest in feeble imitation of her older rival.

Candace smirked and almost chortled out loud at what was revealed (

no better than a 34B, I'd say

); but the boys hooted and clapped enthusiastically—more, perhaps, to encourage both women to continue their undressing than in appreciation of what Brenda was actually revealing of herself.

Okay,

Candace thought,

time to kick it up a notch.

And she undid the zipper on the side of her skirt and let it fall to the ground. Now she was wearing nothing but a bra and panties, along with her shoes (no socks or stockings on this warm day).

Brenda gaped at the sight—the flat stomach, the wide, flaring hips, the strong but rounded thighs and calves—knowing that she couldn't begin to compete with this finely built woman. Nevertheless, more at her friend's (and the boys') urging than through her own inclination, she slipped out of her wraparound skirt and kicked it away, even though she was now instinctively placing one hand over her bra-covered breasts and the other over her groin, wrapped in white cotton panties.

With an almost derisive scoff, Candace calmly undid the clasps on her bra and flung it away.

It was her impression that her tits were her most impressive assets. They were large but firm, and their heft and rondure were such that they created a natural cleavage even when she wasn't wearing a push-up bra. She was rewarded with a succession of jaw-droppings and glazed eyes from all the men in the circle, and she did a little twirl to make sure that the men behind her (who no doubt were appreciating her butt, even if it remained concealed by her pink satin panties) could get a good look at her exposed bosom.

Brenda was now almost reduced to tears, as her face crumpled in fear and humiliation. She frantically picked up her discarded clothes and ran off to some remote part of the frat house, presumably so she could dress and crawl out of the place in defeat. Her friend loyally accompanied her, although Candace could tell that she was wondering how much farther the older woman would go in baring herself.

Candace answered that silent question herself, as she almost indifferently peeled off her panties and stood in that circle of males, entirely naked.

She was pleased at what she saw. Some men were gazing raptly at her delta, covered with an incredibly thick dark tuft of curly hair (

untouched by the razor in all my forty-four years

), while others continued to stare at her spectacular breasts or took in the general impression of naked loveliness that met their eyes. Several were licking their lips unconsciously, and some were actually shifting some lump in their pants that had suddenly gotten to be uncomfortable.

One guy went further. He stood up and, while peering directly at Candace, calmly unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

The erection he revealed was tolerably impressive—perhaps seven inches, and quite thick. Candace had seen longer cocks in her day, but this was certainly nothing to sneeze at. Giving the guy a keen look with just the slightest of smiles on the corners of her mouth, she fell to her knees in front of him and put at least half of the cock in her mouth.

Candace wasn't one to be submissive, but she knew that this whole scenario was basically improvised performance art, and she wanted to give the guys a good show. Anyway, she liked sucking cock—especially if the guy had a nice, firm, muscular butt to go with it, as this guy did. Grabbing that butt with both hands and squeezing hard, she used lips and tongue to coax another half-inch out of that erection. At times she took the cock out of her mouth and, holding it up with one hand, craned her neck to roll his balls in her mouth. That elicited a gasp of surprise out of the guy, who held her head in place to prolong the experience.

Eventually Candace returned to the cock, knowing that the spectators were anxious to see the finale of this little skit. As the guy put his hands on either side of her head, actually thrusting into her mouth, she held on fast to his bottom while taking in the cock as far as she could without gagging. After about five or six minutes, some telltale moaning sounds from the guy indicated that the denouement was upon them; and, with a final deep thrust and a long-drawn-out groan, he sent several dollops of his come into her mouth and down her throat. She was proud that she swallowed every drop and didn't let a single one dribble out of her mouth.

The guy kept his cock in place for more than a minute, as Candace made sure he was totally drained. Then, on shaky legs, he pulled out and stumbled backwards, flopping awkwardly onto the couch he had been sitting on. Candace rose elegantly to her feet and found the plastic cup of punch she had been drinking. She took a few sips (

I'm not super-fond of the taste of come

) and then looked around at the men who had watched the show.

Some of them were just gaping in amazement; others were actually sticking their hands inside their pants, clearly in acute discomfort; still others were beginning to strip just as the first guy did.

Looking around at these disrobing men, she asked the room in general, "Isn't there a place where we could have, um, more privacy?"

One of the guys, thrilled at the prospect that the spectacle would go on (and that he might be a part of it), jumped to attention and said, "Sure! Let's go up to my room."

The bedrooms of the frat boys were all upstairs, and Candace was led by nearly the entire circle of guys up some back stairs to the bedroom indicated. (Strangely enough, her cocksucking act hadn't been noticed by those who were partying elsewhere.) The guy whose room it was ushered her in and walked in with her, evidently assuming that he was going to be next. He had, by a series of contortions, somehow managed to strip while climbing the stairs, and now presented himself as naked as Candace.

He was, of course, fully hard—and sported an erection of at least eight inches.

Candace smiled in appreciation as she slid into bed. The guy—whose name, as Candace eventually learned, was Toby—almost leapt in with her, landing next to her and making a beeline for her breasts. He buried his face in them, squeezing them against either side of his face as he let out a huge sigh of satisfaction. Later he felt Candace all over, especially her smooth bottom and thighs; but, rather touchingly, he also gently stroked her cheek at one point.

But of course this wasn't nearly enough; and after a few minutes he literally climbed up her body and mounted her.

He went in pretty quickly; and even though she was quite wet from her previous action, the sudden entrance of this large cock was a bit of a surprise. She'd undergone a drought of several months in that department, and the organ was a tad larger than what she was used to. Even so, she got into the spirit of things pretty quickly, draping her legs around Toby's hips and wrapping her arms around his back (with occasional squeezes of his butt, which was every bit as muscular as the previous guy's) as he pumped almost maniacally into her. He rained kisses all over her—her face, her neck, her shoulders, even her armpit at one point. The vigor of his thrusts created a slapping sound between their two bodies, and it was clear the end could not be long postponed. Sure enough, in under five minutes he was bathing her vagina with an impressive discharge while roaring like a bull into her ear.

He flung himself off of her, his cock still dripping with his (and her) juices, and stumbled out of the room. He had deliberately left the door open so that others could see his exploit, and sure enough there were a cluster of guys who had watched the action with wide eyes riveted on the entwined couple.

Candace's chest and stomach were bathed in sweat, both from her body and from Toby's. Propping herself up on her elbows, she gazed blandly at the men on the threshold of the room, saying, "Okay, who's next?"

And so the onslaught continued.

The next guy—whose named proved to be Matt—sprouted a big hard-on (maybe eight inches) and said casually, "Hey, do you take it in the butt?"

Candace gave him a blank look and said, "Yeah, sure. But we need some lube. I won't do it without lube."

Matt heaved a weary sigh, turned on his heel, and came back in a matter of seconds holding a tube of moisturizer in his hand. Candace smiled inwardly at that (

how charming that these frat boys are concerned about having silky-smooth hands!

) and presented her posterior to Matt. He lubed the area thoroughly and entered her without so much as a by-your-leave.

Candace would have preferred some foreplay, or even cuddling, but she wasn't one to complain. She preferred to do this lying flat on her stomach, but Matt insisted on her getting on hands and knees. He didn't say why, but Candace suspected he wanted to keep gazing at her round, full bottom—and, more than likely, at his majestic cock going in and out of that tight orifice. At times he tried to bend over and grab her tits, but he found that position awkward; so generally he seized her hips with his big hands while pummeling her, and in due time he came.

There were a couple of other guys who came one at a time—she didn't catch their names. One of them wanted Candace to ride him, and she happily obliged: she liked this position, as it gave her better control over the proceedings; and she found it pleasing, if predictable, that the guy stared fixedly at her bouncing breasts as she slammed down on his cock. The other guy—who may have been the shy fellow who had asked her her name when she'd first shown up—wanted the standard missionary position, and that was okay by her. He finished in a surprisingly short time—but then, touchingly, insisted on giving Candace an orgasm of her own. She'd actually had one as the by-product of the previous couplings, but she appreciated the gesture and gave him a warm smile as he coaxed that climax out of her with delicate fingers.