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Archive-name: School/yale.txt


Archive-title: Yale Frat Party

Here is a story -somewhat true, somewhat rumor, but either way, fairly

jucy, well worth the time to read, but clearly not for the meek.



"Just one more night," she begged him.


He stood in the doorway, looked at her tear-streaked face with a certain

amount of disdain.  He knew he was about finished with her.  She didn't

know that yet, evidently.  Too bad.


"Come on, Brad.  I can't...I can't believe that you don't want to see me

anymore.  I know I can change your mind."  She smiled, even through her

tears.  "You still want me, don't you?"


He eyed her body critically beneath the tight-fitting sweatclothes.  As

far as bodies went, it was a good one.  When he had first seen her tight,

firm flesh clearly revealed by a set of running tights, he'd known that

he would get in, somehow.


It hadn't been hard.


It was a DKE party.  She'd been at the keg.  He spilled beer on her

accidentally on purpose.  She hardly noticed, until he pointed it out

to her.  She was grateful for the information.  She turned out to be

grateful enough to share his sleeping quarters that evening.

It had been a very fulfilling evening.  Well, fulfilling for her.

Draining for him.  Afterwards, he found out that her name was Linda.


But that was a month ago, and now he was ready to move on to other conquests.

was more than ready, in fact.  He'd had several rather acrobatic experiences

with one of her more distant acquaintances.  Linda had noticed the way he had

looked at the flesh beneath her very-loose-with-no-bra-halter top.  She

evidently had thought it was nothing but a passing fancy.  In fact, that

very night he had been extremely helpful in removing the girl's halter top.

Among other things.


Here she was, though, looking at him with wide eyes, unconsciously moving

her legs apart.  That was a habit that he liked; when they were alone, she

knew where she stood in relation to him.  Or knelt, occasionally.

And, looking at the tight curve of her thighs, noting the movement of her

breasts in sympathy with her sobs, he decided that she was worth one last

night.  Not a night that would tie him to her, like she intended.  At least,

not for more than a few hours.  But it wouldn't do to appear too interested;

not yet.


"I said it's over.  What difference can a night make?"

"A lot of difference.  All the difference."  She was almost frantic. "Remember

the time in your room after that concert?  Remember how good it was?  Do you

remember what you said?"


He didn't.  According to her, he'd said he loved her.  Chances are, he had.

Said it, that is.  Not loved her.


She moved closer to him.  She pressed her body to his unmoving one, and despite

his attempt to appear uninterested, it was hard not to be stirred by the

firm yeilding softness of her breasts crushed frantically to him, the wriggle

in her hips that moved maddeningly against his member.  She felt his response,

even through the haze of alcohol, put her tongue to his lips.  Yes, he wanted

her.  But he would have her his way, this time.  He didn't care what she

thought afterwards, didn't intend to see her afterwards.


He smiled.  After all, she'd be getting what she wanted.


She interpreted his smile as acquiescence, and moved her lips to his, but he

remained cold, drew his head back somewhat.  "You're sure you want this?"

"Oh, yeah," she breathed.

So he pulled her closer to him.  And she liked it, thought she had managed

to manipulate him.  That wasn't right.  It was time for him to assert his

mastry over her.  He thrust his tongue between her lips, moved his hands to

her warm buttocks and pressed them together, slid them down and spread

her thighs slightly so she could ride him more easily.  He knew what it took

to make her moan, knew that she loved it when he tickled her gently through

her clothes.  Gentility was not on the evening's agenda, however.  He wanted

her hot and hard, moved his hands roughly to her breasts, squeezing them,

sunk his teeth into her lips.  She loved it all.


Just then, a thought came to him.  He disengaged, pushed her thighs away again

so he could view her fully as he spoke.  He noted, with approval, that the

crotch of her sweatpants was faintly damp.  That was another thing he liked

about Linda; she lubricated well, and at the slightest stimulation.


"One last time.  Okay.  But not here."

"Where?  The bedroom?  Your room?  Name it." Eager, awaiting further attention

from his body.  Wanting to fulfill her soft wanting with hard and violent

pressure.  But she was not ready for his demand.


"Get into the bathroom.  Take off your clothes and lie down on the floor.

I'll be in eventually."


"What?  But what if... I mean, people might..."

"They might, and I don't care.  They can look at your cunt all they like. But

if you want me to fuck you, you better get in there and spread your legs.

And you better look like you mean it."


She looked trapped, uncertain, and that intensified his hard-on with a raging

surge.  He knew that she was torn internally between a need and a fear, but

that her need would betray her, that now she had to have him.  He fell onto

her couch and placed his hands behind his head, smiling, waiting for her to



After a few long moments, she did.  In the direction of the bathroom.  Of

course she closed the door after her.  He frankly didn't care if anyone came

in while she was undressing, or while he was having her.  In fact, he would

like that, allowing her to be visually possessed by yet another, destroying

whatever self-will she had even further.


He waited for as long as he knew it would take her to undress, compensating

amply for her inebriated state, and added another fifteen minutes.  By now,

he was sure, she was playing with herself, trying to keep the heat which he

had imparted to her.  She liked to do that, liked to have him watch.  It was

an interesting experience to see her climax all alone, to watch the quiver

in her pelvis and the transported expression in her half-lidded eyes.  He

was tempted to peer in through a crack in the doorway and watch her, but he

knew she was expecting that, and refused to subordinate to her desire in any



When he finally entered, he saw that he'd been right.  Her hand was stroking

the area between her legs slowly but forcefully.  Her smooth, clear skin

contrasted nicely with the checkerboard beige of the floor.  It must have

been uncomfortable, not to mention cold; her legs shivered slightly,

deliciously.  But it was the look on her face, the mixture of gladness that

he had arrived and vague apprehension about her vulnerable state, that

brought him to readiness.  He stood for a while above her, simply looking.

When she lay down, her breasts lost something of their firmness, and flattened

somewhat across her chest.  But her nipples were quite stiff, with cold or

with excitement, he didn't care which.  That was where he decided to start.


Her hands pulled his head to her chest, like mother to infant, as he took her

nipples and pulled with his lips.  No infant was ever so in possession of his

mother, though.  No infant was ever about to violate his mother so harshly.

The sweaty tang of her flesh was sweet to his tongue, the tart warmth

inviting.  He moved lower, to her flat belly, delving into her navel, biting

the inside of her thigh.  She cried aloud at that, but not with great

vehemence.  It would not have mattered.


About to essay her cleft, he thought better of it, and left off with a slow

and tantalizing lingual caress.  It was time for her to take care of him.

He stood, and undressed, watching her watching him.  Her eyes were never on

his face, always on his cock.  And she thought she loved him.  He knew what

she loved, what she needed.  She got what she loved rammed through lips

stretched wide to accomodate and over a pulsating tongue and into her throat.

She swallowed involuntarily, found it hard to breathe through him, struggled

with too much to consume.  Her mouth was hot and it was wet; it desired to

take him within itself and to spit him out, sucked frantically and convulsed,

each movement bringing him closer and closer to climax. But it was not time

yet to fill her, and finally, regretfully, he pulled beyond begging reach of

her mouth.  She took to kissing his legs, his testicles.  He grabbed a skein

of hair and yanked, causing her to moan again, and to look upwards.


With a hand motion, he told her to flip over.


This, he knew, was the final test of his mastry.  He knew that she was

always extremely reluctant to be taken from behind, but that was how it

was going to be tonight.  Unless, of course, she wanted to be left cold

and empty on the bathroom floor, never to see him again, only to dream of



This night, she accepted it without question.  Probably was expecting it,

possibly even wanting it.  She moved to her knees, placed her hands slowly

on the floor and lowered her torso, simultaneously raising her ass to the

bathroom door.  He pressed her head further down, so it touched the floor.

Ran his hand over her back, underneath for a while to caress her pendent

teats, back towards the rondure of her posterior.  Positioning himself

behind her, he admired the tight pink of her vagina, her welcoming orifice,

created specifically and explicitly for his enjoyment.  A true blonde--he

appreciated that.  Light pubic hair was very rare in his experience and

completely to be enjoyed.  Her ass was very much like her face, round and

slightly chubby, pert cheeks and full lips.


He readied her with his mouth, dancing lightly over labia, lingering

deliberately upon clitoris, tasting her moisture and leaving his own to

facilitate the eventual violation.  She was rocking back and forth on the

floor, with the pleasure of it all.  He imagined she was tonguing the very

tiles, covered with dirt and ammonia as they were, in anticipation of



And then he plunged, and it was good.


As warm and tight as she'd ever been, aided by rocking motion and an

incredible amount of moisture.  She had already spent once; her cries

had made that plainly evident.  But she was working diligently towards the

second, and her deep-seated need drove him.  Here she was, face to the

floor and ass to the sky in total and utter aquiescence to his desire.

When he climaxed, it was with a grunt and a huge shooting spatter that

drove deep within her.  He knew she felt it, sensed her sympathetic orgasm

that made her shiver and milk his penis of every last drop of fluid.  He

contracted again and again.


After a while, he withdrew, sat against the wall.  She wanted to get up, but

he insisted she remain that way, spread to the world, while he recharged and

readied his second assault.  She heaved, breathless with the effort.  Her

tits bobbled nicely with her breaths, and he felt the faint stirrings



Neither he nor she had noticed that the door had opened in the middle of

the act, nor the very confused individual who had peered at the raging

couple for a few moments before beating a hasty retreat.



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