Introduction, this is a 4 part fictional story, told from a woman's perspective. Its about horny old ladies, going to a fraternity house, to get their rocks off. Think modern day, with 1970s frat house etiquette. Some sexual violence, and racial slurs, along with a pathetic attempt for comedy. Special thanks to Brian Griffin from Rhode Island for editing. Brain also wants people to know, there's no underage Shenanigans going on in this story.
*****
Part one.
In the beginning.
My son, just got accepted into a fairly good University that's a couple of hours away from our home. Finding it difficult to be happy for him, knowing my past indiscretions are link to my son's college of choice. Before getting into the weeds, on how I was recognized by former acquaintances, when tagging along on a college campus tour. It's best to start from the beginning, before giving an over arching reason, that is my immediate cause for concern.
Years ago, my husband and I were separated.
Thinking divorce was in our future, because of our constant fighting. I never thought for a moment the marriage would end up being saved. Otherwise, my decision during that time would have been much different.
A long time friend, thats never been married, and was in her late 30s at the time. Not to use her real name, I'll call her Amy, just to keep things moving. She a tall, leggy, blond, with a taste for the younger male companionship. Amy's life has always been a revolving door of endless partying. Convincing me to get out of the house for a weekend, to meet some of her boy toys.
Thinking it would be fun to peek into her love life, or at the very least, get some free drinks.
We eventually set off on our girls night out.
It wasn't until after the two hour drive, when we pulled up to a frat house. This of course being the same university my son and I, would be taking a campus tour of, three years later.
Amy, finally deciding to tell me where the parties at, saying, "we're here. This is the place where I meet most of my boyfriends. I know what you're thinking, but if I told you we're going to a college party, you would have bailed on me tonight." Amy said, while convincing me to get out of her car. "I've known most of these guys for awhile, so don't worry, they just like to party. Who Knows, you might even get a chance to cheat on that prick of a husband, before the divorce is final."
Being a couple years older than Amy, I held up nicely for a woman who had just turned 40. I always ate healthy, stayed away from gluten, jogged at least four times a week. Wouldn't say I'm tall, and skinny like Amy, but definitely not fat. Being a Latina, I hold most of my calories in my ass, tits, and legs. I believe the best description for my body type would be voluptuous.
Even though Amy was joking, I thought if opportunity presented itself in the form of a young man, seeking to practice good bedroom etiquette, with a married woman. Of course depending on if, and only if, I'm attracted to him. Celebrating the ending of my marriage with a bang, sounded like a good idea to me. Besides, I didn't spend hours putting on makeup, to then walk around in fuck me pumps all night. Just so I could be the only person knowing, what my designer bra, and panties look like with my clothes off.
Being mostly fraternity guys at the party, there were handful of other young college girls at the house. Nervous, before walking into the party with Amy, I heard one the girls shout, "who the fuck invited their moms." I started blushing immediately.
"These college bitches are always like this when they're drunk. I fucked a lot of their boyfriends, so they don't care for my company." Amy said to me, before waving at a guy standing on the staircase.
Amy, then introduced me around to the group of young men before slipping away. They were all very nice and plight young gentlemen. I knew that they all saw me as an easy lay, considering who I came to the party with. Not to say there wasn't any attractive young men there. It just felt like I was partying with my son's friends. Thinking if I was going to celebrate the ending of my marriage with a bang, it definitely wasn't going to happen with anyone at that party.
Having three Long Island teas, and being talked into several shots of tequila, all while rapidly becoming the center of attention. Thinking, Amy has known these guys for some time now. I stupidly put my trust in a bunch of frat daddies.
Waking up the next morning, in a strangers bed, only to find my bra on the floor, with a pile of used condoms inside the cups.
Unable to find my panties, and deciding to leave my bra where it was. I then put my dress on, after retrieving it off the ceiling fan.
With spiked heels in hand, trying to walk downstairs with out anyone noticing me, only being able to take three steps on the staircase.
Amy, still drunk in the living room, looking up at me on the staircase. Slurring her word, with a fuck you grin on her face. "Its soon to be, divorced mother of the year! Plenty of pledges, saw your big Mexican jumping tits in their point of view last night. Can you say, choo choo! Just look up at the wall, that number is nasty." Amy yelled excitedly, playing announcer to my arrival.
Soon thereafter, other drunk party goers started shouting, "Mustang Sally, Mustang Sally!" Not my name by the way.
Noticing, my lemon yellow lace hip huggers, stapled next to several other women's panties. Along with a placeholder underneath, with my full maiden name, and a double digit number. Amy's panties where there to. She had the number 6 next to her name. The numbers of course being a representation of the different guys who banged you from that fraternity house. In one night, I fucked more then double what Amy had on her best night coming to these parties.
Still standing on the staircase, as a chubby young man coming up behind me, holding my bra in hand. "Mrs, you for got your bloomers. I retrieved them from the floor I did. Perhaps a small token of that spanish rump, for me troubles." The fat fuck said to me, while doing a bad British accent.
Upset, realizing what happened, while the continued shooting, of "Mustang Sally" was rattling my central nervous system. With my breath smelling of several dicks, I spit in his fat face, simultaneously silencing the crowd in the living room. Not pleased with my reaction. The chubby young man, still holding my bra, grabbed a handful of used condoms, then slapped me across the face.