Fraternity Housewife The End

Chapter The Last

We had settled into a normal life, well as normal as you can see given our extended marriage. There had only been a half dozen prospects that pledged in, so the total population was 30 now. As kind of an unanticipated result, the plaque we had received for having the best GPA among all of the Greeks on campus hung on our trophy wall. Aaron and I had both assumed, when we were summoned to the Dean's office, that the jig was up, that I'd be fired, and the Fraternity would be kicked out of the campus. Instead, we got the plaque. Evidently, since the guys didn't have to spend every waking moment figuring out how to get laid, they actually spent more time studying than their contemporaries.

It was the first day of the National Football League's playoffs. Since this was, after all, a largely male-dominated place football started around noon. Well, actually, it started with the formal tapping of the keg at 10:00 a.m. ("it HAS to be 5:00 somewhere," Roger had intoned as he set the tap and pumped).

As we had agreed, those of us with breasts and vaginas had prepared a mountain of sandwiches, a couple of gallons of spicy "nacho" cheese, and had purchased about fifty dollars worth of nacho chips. We didn't intend to be working all day either.

The beer had started flowing at 10:00 and by, oh, about 10:12 someone had produced the first of many joints. By noon, when the first kickoff of the day occurred, I was mildly drunk, quite high, and ravenous. I raided the sandwich pile, refilled my beer mug, grabbed a saucer of cheese and some chips, and went to sit by Aaron.

It's funny, isn't it, the way we choose our place in any space.

When I was in college a book by a guy named Carlos Castenada, "The Teachings of Don Juan," had been making the rounds of those of us who felt we were "intellectuals." It dated back to the 1960s, but seemed to retain a sort of cult following and some friends of mine introduced me to it. I read the damn thing but about the only thing I remember was his description of how you had to find your "proper" place wherever you were. I didn't strive to find that spot, but since reading that book I have tended to notice that once you have found a spot in a place you tend to wind up there whenever you are there. Wow, reading that sentence captures the way I was feeling about then, so I think I'll leave it alone.

Aaron and I were in our accustomed places, one of the "love seats," small two-person couches, that had accumulated in the house over the decades. This particular one had side-by-side recliners and I was leaning back, my nachos on my belly, my beer in the little cup holder, devouring my sandwich, and just kind of watching the room.

Over at the pool table, Paula was giving lessons. She's a good stick, usually beating me at least 4 of 10 games and I am a VERY good stick. She cheats though. That magnificent ass of hers, peeking out from under the T-shirt that was all she wore anymore, was guaranteed to distract any human being with a functioning Y chromosome and, of course, we had plenty of those around.

On another couch Arlene sat, her blouse open and breast being nursed by Joseph. She looked absolutely beatific like that and he looked like he might be asleep.

In the corner, Annette was practicing her pole dancing to the appreciative whistling and clapping of four or five of the guys. I watched for a while, still trying to figure out how she made it look so easy. I am much stronger than she is, and more athletic for that matter. But whenever I tried the things she showed me I felt like an awkward bear. She was, as I watched, slipping off her short skirt while never stopping her smooth trips around the pole.

It was, in sum, just another day in this strange group marriage that had developed.

I was kind of watching the game, kind of enjoying my beer and snacks, and mostly just letting my mind wander.

"What?" Aaron asked and when I turned to him he was looking at me intently.

"What do you mean, what?" I asked, taking another swallow of the beer and dipping my chip into the nacho sauce.

He chuckled.

"You look like a happy female Buddha sitting there with that smile. I was just wondering what you were thinking about."

I giggled and I could feel a blush spreading across my face.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," he said, drawing out the syllable, "one of those thoughts, huh?"

When I didn't answer he said "come on Becky, give. You know you're gonna tell me."

I giggled again. The pot was taking hold. Oh, all right. The pot had me.

"I was looking around and thinking that we seem to have stumbled onto something here," I said, struggling to sound serious and not to completely baked.

"Go on," he said, leaning toward me a little, "it sounds like there's more."

"Oh, all right," I said, taking a deep breath, "what I was really thinking was that a woman should be able to take care of six men at once. There, I said it."

And again the blush was spreading.

His eyebrows were up.

"Six?" he said, the intonation making the question mark obvious.

"Oh god," I murmured before going on. "Yes, six, two vaginally, one anally, one orally, and, well, a girl has two hands, doesn't she?"

I could almost see the wheels turning as he contemplated what I had just said.

And then he was on his feet.

"You and you," he said, pointing to two of the guys lounging on one of the couches watching the game, "bring the futon in here."

When they looked up at him questioningly he said "NOW!"

Aaron will be President someday. When he uses that voice people tend to jump. Hell, it even gets to me from time to time.

"Our housemother and first wife," he announced to the room, making me shrink into the corner of the loveseat since I knew what had to be coming, "has made an interesting statement to the Fraternity President. A statement that I believe deserves experimental evaluation."

All eyes were on him now.

"Becky," he said, crooking his finger, "come here please."

I was giggling and blushing and drunk and high as I got to my feet and went to him.

"This beautiful woman," he said, stopping his lecture long enough to kiss me soundly, "says that she believes any woman worth her salt can pleasure six men simultaneously. And now we shall see."

With that, his hands were on the hem of my T-shirt, and in one quick move he had it peeled over my head. I didn't do anything stupid like try to cover myself. I mean, it wasn't like everyone in the room hadn't seen me naked.

He stepped closer and kissed me again.

It took a few minutes to set it up. Justin laid on his back, already erect, and I straddled him. Then I leaned forward, kissing him, as Drew positioned himself behind me and guided himself. The second cock in my pussy stretched me but I had no trouble handling it. It took them a minute or so to work out the logistics, where feet went mostly, and then Stan took me anally. "Roger," I said, "come here, baby." He came and I undid the button and zipper of his jeans and got that oversized cock of his out. He was fully erect but then again, he typically is.

I looked up and met his eyes. "Now don't you drop me," I said, "or I'll probably break my damn nose." He stroked my hair and then his hands settled on my shoulders. "I won't," he said.

The last two, Bobby and Mike, were for my hands.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, but I got my hips and my hands and my head moving. Kind of like rubbing your head and patting your belly at the same time although in this case, you'd have to add - while walking on a balance beam.

Mike came on my wrist first followed by Stan in my ass. I kept going until all of them came, Roger damn near waterboarding me in my mouth.

Finally, spent, panting, and yes, a little unsteady on my feet I stood, threw my arms up in a gymnast's salute, and called out, "Ta DAHH!"

***

Epilog

She rolled up on her side and smiled. "Now you know all about my sordid past," she said.

I smiled and kissed her. "Now I know about your wonderful past," I said, and kissed her again.

"Paula was the first to leave," she said. "She married Larry when he graduated. We recruited another pear, Marilee. That group of four was together for another six years before Arlene accepted a proposal and left. Mercy, and yes, that IS what was on her birth certificate, was our replacement hourglass."

"And how long did you stay?" I asked.

She smiled and said, "when I got my medicare card I figured it was time to move on."

"Do you ever go back?" I asked.

"I did for a couple of years. It was fun. But then when most of the guys I had known had graduated, you know how it goes," she said, "it was more like I was a curiosity when I went back, not a wife."

"Any regrets?" I asked.

"Not," and she kissed me, "a," kiss, "one."

It was a very enjoyable four years I spent with her and now, when my wife has laid back, completely satisfied, I think of Becky real fondly. I imagine that right now, as I finish this memoir, she is happily fucking some student's brains loose, and encouraging him to keep his grades up.

I'm glad I finally got a chance to write her story.