Fraternity Housewife Ch 08

I woke, as I almost always did, with the wonderful pressure of an erection against my ass and fingers finding my sex.

But it burned.

It hurt.

It itched.

I caught the hand (Wayne's if it matters) and pushed him away.

"Just a minute baby," I said, crawling past Tom and heading for the bathroom.

It burned when I peed and itched like crazy when I wiped.

I went into the bedroom and turned on the light and went to the dressing mirror.

And I had a rash everywhere they had shaved.

"Oh shit," I said aloud.

And then I couldn't help myself and I laughed.

I threw on my housedress and headed downstairs to the great room and began banging on the big old school bell that we used to announce dinner.

I banged until all of them were in the room, yawning and scratching and still waking up.

"Guys," I said, still fighting to keep from laughing, "you have put me out of business."

I lifted the hem of the housedress.

And yelled as loud as I could "FRONT!"

Davey came and dropped to one knee, eyes down and intoned in his best James-Earl-Jones-as-Darth-Vader voice "What is thy bidding my mistress."

That was his answer to Mark's Roman salute. They really were an entertaining bunch.

"You," I intoned in my best schoolmarm voice, "go immediately to the CVS drugstore and get the largest tube of Desitin, that's D-E-S-I-T-I-N, and shag your ass back here as fast as you can. This ITCHES!"

He rose and intoning "At your bidding mistress" backed out of the room, turned, and headed for the front door at a literal run.

Wayne, my erstwhile barber came over and lifted me, Jesus he was strong, onto the table and then lifted the hem of the housedress.

"Light," he said and Tom ran into the kitchen and returned with a flashlight.

To say I felt exposed is an understatement as they gathered around, gently pushing me back so that I lay on the table and lifting my legs, "inspecting" me.

"Wellllllllllllllll," Wayne the barber said, "that's a new one on me."

Which made me laugh again.

"I didn't think you had intended this honey," I managed before dissolving into more laughter.

"Okay," I said, managing to get myself under control, "Davey, you are the best cook. Your itchy bride is going to shower and see if she can get some relief," I raised my hands for silence as four of them started what I assume was an offer to "help" "and I expect a good breakfast when I come back down. The rest of you, make yourselves useful."

I headed back to my room, walking a little bowlegged. Damn but that itched and I was so tender.

In the shower, I did my normal face-hair-ass sequence with particular attention between my legs. The slick soap offered some relief from the itching and I damn near came while I was "cleaning" things.

Finally, I was done. It was hard to resist the urge to almost violently dry where I itched but I figured that abrasions on top of a rash would be a bad combination.

I had just finished drying when the door opened and Davey came in, the biggest tube of Desitin I had ever seen in his hands.

I giggled.

"Thank you, dear," I said, smoothing a towel on the bed and laying back, "now cover ALL of the red up, please. It's a bit awkward for me to reach."

I almost cried. The cold zinc oxide-based medication was such a relief. I remembered using it on my son's diaper rash and how well it had worked on him. Now I hoped, hell, I prayed for equal relief and I was getting it.

"Ummmmmmmm," he said and I opened my eyes.

"What baby," I asked.

"You need to roll over Becky and I'll finish," he said acting almost embarrassed which made me laugh again.

"Davey," I said, rolling over and finishing my sentence into the pillow, "it's not like you haven't seen all of me you ever will without using surgical instruments."

I reached back and spread my cheeks.

He chuckled and smoothed the DESITIN the rest of the way.

I sighed with relief.

When he patted my ass and said "done" I rolled off of the bed and kissed him.

"Thank you, my love," I said, and I meant it.

I threw the housedress on again and we walked down to the great room hand in hand with Mark.

God, it looked like a breakfast buffet at Denny's.

I couldn't help but grin.

"God, I love you guys," I said, "now dig in. I hate to eat alone."

We ate but it was, well, quiet. I was used to our meals being filled with laughter and banter.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay guys," I said after dinging my coffee cup with my knife, "I'm only out of commission from the waist down and, to be honest," and here I was surprised to feel an actual blush starting, "I've always wondered what one of those bukkake parties like you KNOW you've seen in the porno videos would be like."

Which broke the ice and we were back to normal.

The banter was light and witty with plenty of double entendre and innuendo as you might imagine in what I was coming to think of as our "group marriage."

"I hear semen is a great face cream," Tom opined.

"Not to mention good hair conditioner," chimed in Wayne the barber.

"But will you still kiss me?" I asked innocently and was greeted with unanimous "YES" replies.

I giggled like a nervous school girl.

We took our time eating and then, as had become our tradition, they started a round of "rock, paper, scissors" until the final two started on the dishes.

We all sort of wandered into the living room, the stereo playing something loud and bouncy.

"Becky," Aaron said, sitting next to me, "we are really sorry. We never imagined...."

And I shushed him with a kiss.

"I know baby," I said, "shit happens."

It was kind of funny actually, watching them make small talk. I knew what was on their minds because it was on my mind.

Finally, dishes done, dry and put away all eight of us were in the front room.

I stood.

"First," I said as imperiously as I could manage in a housedress, a coating of Desitin, and absolutely nothing else, "you," I pointed at Davey, "get the pot pipe."

A chorus of cheers greeted that pronouncement.

And so we sat and passed the pipe around, to quote a John Denver song, for a while in companionable silence, just that music playing, some of my oldies now.

Not stoned, but pleasantly buzzing I stood again.

"Wayne," I said, still shooting for imperious although the giggles sort of blew the image, "the community laptop."

He looked at me quizzically but then went to the entertainment center and brought back the little Google Chromebook that we kept there. It was logged into the local network and with a few touches of the touchpad and clicks, I had it mirrored on the big 54" flat-screen TV.

The guys watched.

And then started laughing as they saw me google "bukkake party."

"Well," I said, looking around, "have any of YOU ever done this before?"

Silence.

"Sooooo," I said, dragging the word out as I started clicking my way through links, "maybe we should have some instructional material."

That drew a laugh.

I was scrolling through dozens of those little postage stamp size come-ons when I saw what looked to be a fairly chunky middle-aged woman surrounded by young men. In other words, I figured I had found our training tape.

Now understand, I have never been a prude. I was never into watching pornography but I had, well, peeked from time to time.

What we were watching had pretty poor production values actually, which made me think it might actually BE an "amateur" production.

And I'll be damned if I wasn't captivated.

I had thought of these things as degrading to women and, when we looked at some others later it turned out most of them are.

But this one really did remind me of what we had. The woman appeared to be 50ish and one of the guys involved, the sound was actually not bad, kept referring to her as "Aunt Ann."

It was hard to keep track but it looked like there were around 10 guys.

When the video opened she was on her knees literally surrounded by naked men (well, some of them looked to be pretty darn young but I'll believe that all were "legal") all of whom had their cocks in their hands.

She would take one into her mouth and one into her hand.

And then another.

When the first one came, the jet of his semen, thick and white, hitting her forehead and hair and then dripping down over her eyes I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

I looked around and saw the guys all watching, rapt.

Aaron turned to look at me.

Our eyes met.

"Damn," he said softly and kissed me.

The video ran for almost a half hour.

Every one of the men ejaculated onto her. Most hit her face and hair although her small saggy boobs were covered as well.

And the thing is, she looked happy. When she would say "thank you, baby," and "I love you," I believed it.

And the men, when they would kiss her mouth, dripping other men's semen, would smile and say they loved her.

And dammit, I was so fucking aroused I thought I would cum just from sitting there.

When the video ended I flicked back to the search screen and pulled up another one.

This was more like I had expected.

A young blonde, quite pretty, was knocked to her knees by a big man in a mask. This was much more a porno movie than the previous amateur film.

For a half-hour men belittled her, telling her what a useless cumdump she was, what a worthless whore, and she cried and carried on as they came on her.

I shut that one off after about 10 minutes.

You could hear a pin drop.

I took a deep breath and stood.

"ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm," I said, looking around, "I guess we need to find a sheet or something to put on the floor if we're going to do this."

Davey stood and came to me, taking my hands in his.

"I love you, Becky," he said, "if you are at all uncomfortable we do NOT have to do this."

He was joined with a chorus of "that's rights."

I smiled up at him and kissed him.

"Guys," I said, doing a slow turn, "I don't know about you all but that FIRST video was one of the most erotic things I've ever seen."

Another chorus of "that's rights."

"I won't be treated like that girl in the second one," I said, smiling, "will I?"

No words were spoken for a few seconds while they all came and we engaged in one of those beautiful group hugs.

"Becky," Aaron said, "we love you and would love to have a bukkake party with you but only if it's what you want and what you think you'll enjoy."

The pot still had me of course.

I got the giggles.

"Get a damn towel or sheet or tarp or something before I fucking EXPLODE."

Once again the ice was broken. Wayne came back with an actual tarp that he spread on the great room floor and Davey had a big comforter quilt that he spread over the top of it.

"ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," I said, pointing at the window, "blinds please."

Tom closed the blinds.

And there was another of those awkward moments. We really didn't know what to do.

So I reached down, grabbed the hem of my housedress, and peeled it up and off.

And I stood there, for their inspection, naked, the white Desitin glistening where my pubic hair had been.

Which drew some chuckles and I actually did blush a little.

I went to the middle of the quilt on the floor and, rather artfully I thought, slowly sank to my knees.

"Pants off boys," I said in my best Mae West voice, "mama's ready for action."

In under a minute I was surrounded by naked men.

For the next hour, I was lost in the pure sensuality of giving pleasure while receiving none myself.

And it was amazing.

I would take a cock and kiss it. Stroke it. Take it into my mouth. And while it was in my mouth take another in my hand. And God help me, I felt so perfectly female right then, so utterly feminine. My nipples hurt they were so hard and I could smell my excitement.

I could feel Tom getting close, the throbbing in his cock unmistakable so I concentrated on him for a minute, my mouth nursing and my hand gently stroking.

When I felt his body starting to tense with his release I pulled off but kept stroking him with my hand.

I was holding his eyes with mine when he ejaculated, hot semen in my hair. The second pump was to my face, right between the eyes, and then, as he slowed, the pump running empty, I pulled him closer, still stroking him, drawing the last precious drops that I took on my tongue.

When he was done I looked up again and said "thank you, baby, for a beautiful gift."

Roger was next, pushing his cock into my mouth, his hands in my hair, not pulling and hurting, but controlling and demanding.

He's both thick and long and he was triggering my gag reflex.

I held right there, just short of that reflex, as he started fucking my mouth.

I looked up and met his eyes and he smiled as he thrust past the gag reflex into my throat.

My body retched instantly and he pulled out.

"Sorry," he said.

I pulled off so I could say "no baby, give me a second and I'll try to give you what you want."

I took a few deep breaths and then took him into my mouth again. This time when he got to my gag reflex I started swallowing hard, trying to help him past it.

And it worked.

He was in my throat now and I wasn't gagging.

I was looking up at him, enjoying the way his face sort of scrunched up as his hips thrust, giving him what he obviously wanted.

Again I could feel him getting close and I pulled off and took him into my hand.

Before it was over, I had brought all of them to ejaculation and taken each in my hair and on my face. I could feel semen coating my face and feel it dripping down onto my boobs and running down onto my belly. I imagined I had a white, thick mask and, on some level, I don't really understand, I imagined I was beautiful.