HOT COLLEGE SEX
Naked boys and girls, their only clothes painted on, abound at a perverted sorority sponsored Harvard street fair in:
Harvard is for Beautiful Perverts
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“Harvard is for Beautiful Perverts” is an irreverent, sexy, humorous and entirely fictitious expose’ of Harvard’s perverted Greek life. Further, at 106,000 words, it is by far my longest, most elaborate work to date. If you liked the writing style and twisted situations in the previous books, you will find that “Harvard is for Beautiful Perverts” kicks it up a notch.
In it, we find Jack, Nadine and Anita visiting a highly unusual street fair sponsored by Harvard University sororities and fraternities. In order to visit the Houses, our hero’s must strip and have clothes painted on their bodies…as do most of the other visiting underclassmen and Harvard wannabe’s. Once in the sorority, the sadistic Nadine abuses a gay black pledge (a 6’8″ 285 pound Harvard basketball player) assigned to a sorority by his Pledge Master to pleasure female visitors. Having no desire to pleasure women, she makes him perform in spectacular fashion. The on-looking coed’s are shocked at Nadine’s sadistically painful but effective methods. Jack, on the other hand, is ushered into the sorority’s Male Hospitality Room. He comes face to face with sixteen hungry Sisters ready to compete for his meat. Compete they do; Jack does them all.
Upon leaving the sorority, our intrepid trio visits the gay fraternity next door, Itchy Scratchy Epsilon. Nadine continues to abuse the gay basketball players while Jack finds himself bound into one of the most elaborate Glory Holes ever made. Needless to say, by the time they are ready to leave, our hero’s are happy and satisfied. Enjoy, naughty readers! Enjoy!
Find below 3 excepts from Harvard is for Beautiful Perverts
His name was Everett Eustace McKinley. The great great great great grandson of President William McKinley. How did this rangy straight boy, a high school sophomore, find himself naked with a glowing boner while tightly bound to the Glory Hole in the Party Room of Harvard’s gayest frat? Pure happenstance. Serendipity. A dyed-in-the-wool book worm, he had biked to the Schoenhof Foreign Book Shop a couple of blocks off Harvard Square earlier in the day looking for a copy of a Lurianic Kabbalah text. While there he heard about the fair. Failing to find what he wanted and having the entire afternoon to kill, he decided to take it in.
Still a virgin, and a shy one at that, Everett was thrilled by the scores of naked painted fellow students meandering through the fair, eating dogs and burgers, playing the fairway games and wandering in and out of the fraternities and sororities. At first all he wanted to do was sit at a table just off the sidewalk gulping Coke while goggling at an endless parade of carelessly exposed breasts, buns and camel toes. Tiring of just watching all the eye candy, double daring himself with his heart beating out of his chest, he stripped and had himself painted up. It was a total first for the painfully shy boy but he was sooo horny! He thought he was way too thin, having shot up eleven inches in the last twelve months, to be attractive to the opposite sex. But there were many others there as thin or thinner, if not quite as young. The only time he was ever naked around others was in the high school locker room. Never outdoors with the sun beating on his ass and the wind stirring his pubes, and never, never in the company of equally naked girls!
The body painter knew better. This teen was like most teens: extremely self-conscious. Sure the guy was thin. But also very cute. He just did not know how cute…yet. It would take the encouraging words of some female admirer to give him confidence in his appearance. The body painter took full advantage of emphasizing the boy’s assets. Everett was one of the few there who was white, no tan. She painted his torso with a raggedy contrasting jet black cropped tee, leaving exposed his naturally occurring six pack and to-die-for twenty-six inch waist. A jagged ’tear’ in the paint over his right breast left his tiny nipple bare. With his blessing she painted red Japanese Party Boy shorts on him. Riding low on his hips, the painted front belt line dropped below the root of his penis. So while his balls were painted red, his cock was not, left exposed and arched out above the beltline to swing as he walked. Except for the mandatory three inch square of Lycra covering his dick head, that is. The body painter knew a well formed male ass when she saw one. And his narrow ass framed a set of glutes that had her mouth watering. A wide ‘tear’ over his left bun exposed a white strip of unblemished hairless skin. Finished, she looked him over. He was sexy. Extremely sexy. But too young for her taste. Recognizing his eager horniness, she hoped he would be able to find a casual lay today.
Everett sauntered from one end of the fair to the other reveling in his first ever public nudity. He went into shops, he played the Duck Shoot game and he took in the informational booths. Eventually he got bored. Bored, that is, until a pretty black girl invited him to tour the newest Harvard frat only half a block away, Itchy Scratchy Epsilon. Knocking at the door, it swung open to reveal the super-sexy Stevie wearing only the painted on belt. Since he was alone, Stevie took him in her arms, pressed him against her warm body and gave him a lingering French kiss. Stevie’s favorite kind of boy was young, skinny boys. Everett was her ideal! Molding herself to his body in the doorway, one hand pressing his head into hers, the other groping a handful of bun, her nipples dug sensuous trenches into his chest. Stevie smiled to herself as Ev gasped and gasped again in response to her onslaught. She could also feel his cock poke her tummy through the thin Lycra scrap. Pulling away from her newest lover, she looked him over with hooded aroused eyes. Pulling him inside, slamming the door, she dragged him by his stiffening cock into the Itchy Scratchy Party Room.
Everett had never been in a fraternity before. He had no basis of comparison. But at this point he really did not care. His full and complete attention was on Stevie who was all over him. As soon as she pulled him into the room, she backed him into a corner, pushing him half up on a tall console style table. Squatting in front of him, she flicked the Lycra scrap off of his cock head. He gasped in unimagined pleasure as Stevie wrapped her hand around his shaft, the first girl to have ever touched it with such unmistakable sexual intent. He could not breathe as he watched her examine his expanding cock head that peeked out from the end of her fist. As his cock grew in her hand, she dropped her mouth over his prick head. Everett knew that he had never experienced anything so extraordinarily pleasurable as her hot breathe wafting against his most sensitive flesh. That is, until a moment later, when she began to spank and rasp his fattening head with her tongue. It was the finest… And then, then she began to suck on him. Hard. He had never known such pleasure. He had no idea such pleasure was possible. In less than a minute he had a full on boner. And still she sucked his cock with a passion he had never before seen let alone experience first-hand. He was trembling like a lamb facing a ravenous lioness when she finally pulled off his steel ingot of a cock. Swiftly rising, she turned and bent over, her wet pussy blossoming in all of its bright pink glory. His prick, glowing brighter and hotter than a brand new supernova, screamed at him to go for it. Sweating like a motherfucker, adrenaline forcing his heart to pound like a kettle drum possessed, dopamine making him shake harder than a wet Mexican Hairless in a Siberian snow storm, his eyes were saucers as he watched her hand snake out from between her legs, grasp his upright dick, then bent it down in line with her pulsing pink snatch. He could not breathe; his legs went rubbery as she slowly backed up onto it. Fuck. Double fuck. Uh, uh. Make that triple fuck with toffee and sprinkles. Everett watched his dick disappear into a tight, wet, hot inferno of very soft clutching, throbbing clasping female flesh. Seven plus inches of tungsten rod sunk into Stevie’s pleasure center until her ass pressed against his groin. Ev was blown away. Unmoving, his happy cock sending his brain the most outrageous sensations in this greatest ever event of its short life; all he could do was stare at the juncture of her ass and his pelvis. That is until Stevie looked back.
“Fuck me, hon,” she simply said.
That was all it took. Quickly, not believing any of this was actually happening, Ev set his feet, grasped Stevie’s narrow hips, and took a virgin’s first tentative thrust into a real actual pussy. And then another. And then another. Suddenly he realized he was fucking! For the first time! And, even more unbelievably, fucking a bonafide black girl in a room full of people! Many of whom were watching him! He didn’t care, his cock didn’t care. The sensations he felt as his prick slid in and out of that tight liquid snatch were all consuming, all encompassing. Nothing else mattered. That is, until the doorbell rang. Ever the perfect hostess, Stevie slipped off his cock, gave him a peck on the cheek and disappeared to answer it. He was left alone to mingle, growing more and more self-conscious as his glowing, throbbing cock screamed for action. He felt so desperate.
Then another black girl, just as vivacious, walked up to him with a cold beer. Smiling thankfully, he downed half of it in three gulps. Then, while gently fondling the head of his stiffy, she asked him if he wanted to cum. Does the sun rise in the east!?! Of course he wanted to cum! Taking his arm in hers, she led the boner encumbered boy to examine the Lucite Glory Hole. She told him that she and two of her friends would play with him as long as he wanted, make him cum as often as he could manage if he would simply let them tie him in. With his little head doing all the thinking, he rashly agreed. The girl smirked. No horny boy could resist her when she toyed with his boner, fed him a little beer and promised fine head.
Suddenly floodlights lit up an enormous sparkling contraption sitting to one side in the room. Jack, Nadine and Anita walked over as a tall, skinny Emo boy with a long skinny erection was helped into position on the device by a brotha and two black sista’s. The pasty, tattooed and pierced kid looked nervous but willing. And no wonder. What a device it was.
Designed by a cum laude graduate of the Harvard based John A. Paulsen School of Engineering and Applied Sciences, the device was an ergonomically designed “Glory Hole” taken to a whole new level for the purpose of achieving the ultimate expression of male orgasm. While most Glory Holes consisted of nothing more than a sheet of plasterboard with a small hole cut in the middle for a cock to stick through, this engineering marvel was a masterpiece of design meets function. No cheap plasterboard here. Every panel, every plank was a piece of transparent Rayon, Lucite or optically clear acrylic. Held together with stainless steel nuts and bolts, standing eight feet tall, the acrylic surfaces diffracted the bright light from the floodlights in a rainbow of colors. Baby, it was designed to impress.
Jack’s prick got harder just looking at it, imagining himself in its clutch. A long held fantasy come to life; it was as if they had designed it just for him. He watched closely as the trio carefully positioned the Emo. The first thing they did was place his bare feet on the widely spaced left and right footrests. Looking closely, he noted that the footrests were on gimbals, gimbals that were able to compensate for any angle the kid’s feet might take. Thick, padded, white leather ankle restraints were then fastened around the guy’s thin ankles. Oddly, there was an acrylic seat bolted to the frame between the kid’s well spread legs.
Next, the Emo was asked to lean forward until his pelvis made contact with a half inch thick, five inch wide Lucite plank that had a hole drilled through the center of it. As the Emo leaned forward, the girls adjusted the height of the plank so that the boy’s cock…they had to pull his low hangers through one at a time…went through the exact center of the hole. Similar Lucite planks were permanently bolted just above it and just below it to minimize flex. Locking the adjustable plank in place, the girls then stretched the Emo out by placing his hands around ergonomically shaped Rayon hand grips located on the upper corners of the frame. As with his ankles, they wrapped his thin wrists in thick white leather restraints. Another clear acrylic seat was mysteriously mounted near the center top of the frame, level with the Emo’s chin.
Another thick leather strap dangled to the side of the boy from the same Lucite plank that had the glory hole. This strap had a ratchet. The girls drew the strap across the Emo’s ass and fastened it to the other side. Ratchetting it tight, the strap dug into his glutes. Jack immediately understood that no matter what the kid might try, he’d never be able to pull his cock and balls from the hole through which they protruded.
Then, the final touch. The Emo’s hard prick and scrotum was threaded by one of the girls through a tight, thick red rubber cock ring and left to rest snuggly against his pubis. Jack watched the veins slowly rise on the surface of the boy’s throbbing dick as the constricting ring turned it a light shade of purple. The cock ring would help the kid hold back his load as the girls worked him over.
Now in a perfect spread-eagle, the Emo’s wide spread hands were held five inches farther back than the back of his head while his widespread feet were held eighteen inches from the back of his ass. Stepping back, Jack saw that the boy, while comfortable, was forced to lean forward at the hips, his back concave, much of his weight resting against the same plank that his cock thrust through. Since he was up next, Jack was dying to see how the black girls…Stevie just now joined the other two…worked the Emo over. Would it be over-the-top eroticism for the teen until he nutted? Would they work his dick, polish his crown after he came?
So now he found himself bound in a tight spread-eagle with his smoking gun of a cock and hot boiling balls exposed on the far side of a Lucite plank dressed with a thick tight red cock ring that the girls told him would help him control his loads. His body was wide open, radically stretched out, pelvis thrust forward; the center of his universe his throbbing, glowing cock. All he wanted to do was cum. His cock, having turned a light purple from the tight cock ring, thrust up and out, knotted veins supplying the full-to-bursting shaft with more blood than it could handle. Waiting for the girls to begin their sex play, cock glowing like a beacon, begging for some stimulation, anything, anything at all; it grew steadily more and more sensitive. Fortunately for Everett and his cock, he did not have long to wait.
END OF EXCERPT ONE
SET UP FOR EXCERPT TWO
The sadistic Nadine had ridden Tyrone’s face to a blasting orgasm. Now she was riding his 16″ cock (Lil’ Tye) which was fitted with wires giving him zapping, crackling E-Stim (electrical stimulation of the cock and balls). But the big gay black stud was not cooperating, would not thrust back while she rode him at a gallop. Nadine wanted his all. The only way to get him to cooperate was by threatening him with spur fitted riding boots.
“Got ‘em!” Judith burst back into the room, triumphantly brandishing a highly polished pair of black riding boots complete with a pair of sharp, jangling spurs. She threw them on the bed next to Tyrone. A spur inadvertently scratching him across a rib.
“No you don’t,” Tyrone warbled, his eyes large and rolling, locked on the gold chased, tooled spurs. “Don’t you dare do me that way! Give peace a chance!”
In blind fear, Tyrone finally, finally gave Nadine his all. The long, thick muscles of his legs shredded magnificently as he began to thrust in earnest, giving it everything he had. His thighs began to burn with the exertion, almost as badly as Nadine’s. The bed began to scrape across the floor, his feet pushing it as he met each and every one of Nadine’s turbo-charged thrusts with a turbo-charged thrust of his own. He sniveled in dismay when he realized that he had knocked poor, poor Lil’ Tye unconscious.
Nadine’s eyes slammed open. Finally! Fuckin’ finally! THIS was what she wanted. THIS is what she lived for. THIS was what she had been looking for since she entered the room. Now THIS is sex! Not some feeble five minute mamby-pamby sweaty handshake of a fuck; not some listless, anemic horizontal waltz during which both partners quietly climax and then go back to watching Conan. Fuck no. That was not her style one little bit. She wanted the mother of all climaxes to concuss in her with the same magnitude of a quarter mile long asteroid traveling at Mack 3 deadheading into the solid rock of Pikes Peak. She wanted her cum to immolate her, vaporize her just as the asteroid would vaporize on contact with the granite fourteener. Her orgasm began to rise again, rapidly this time. Whipping Tyrone mercilessly, Nadine felt the destructive asteroid of her orgasm gain terminal velocity from gravity’s inexorable pull. It tore through her body, tearing up what the huge cock had not yet laid to waste.
Then her orgasm hit, just as Nadine, with Tyrone’s frantic help, got the last inch of cock packed inside. She felt more victorious than Hitler dancing a jig when France surrendered. Tyrone’s prick was now so deep she could feel it thrusting between her lungs. As she came her vaginal sponge let loose a quart of crystalline girly juices. With the two fuckers frantically pulverizing each other into dust, each of Tyrone’s thrusts repeatedly squirt pressurized fluids across the room and into a wall, soaking a poster of Jay Z looking pissed that he had married Beyoncé and not the gorgeous teen wildly fucking in front of him.
The voltage from the E-Stim, up to now a painful but cathartic counterpoint to the overall sexual act, had been a building block off of which Nadine’s orgasm had catapulted. Sizzling and snapping ferociously, it drove Lil’ Tye crazy as Tyrone drew closer to a climax himself. But when Nadine came and let loose her highly conductive juices, the voltage inside her vag instantly conducted forty percent more current to poor, poor Lil’ Tye’s deep seated cock head. The sizzling and snapping instantly changed to a much worse boiling. Lil’ Tye suddenly felt like a live lobster unceremoniously thrown into a pot of boiling water. So Lil’ Tye did what any under attack prick would do under similar circumstances. Tyrone’s orgasm was instantaneous, the snap so intense his red blood cells hid behind the white. He shot helter-skelter into the stinging, burning abyss. As his piss slit spit streams of comatose, electrocuted sperm, his cock crown crackled like a Tesla coil spitting high-voltage streamer arcs.
EEEEEEeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiii,” Tyrone screeched in a heretofore unimagined agony laced pleasure. He blindly thrust his pelvis up three feet using every bit of his considerable strength. Anita thought he looked just like an ancient Roman catapult tossing a five hundred pound boulder at a stone defensive wall.
But it was not a boulder he tossed. Nadine felt herself quickly rise up, all sixteen of Tyrone’s crackling inches pressing into her overwhelmed vag. The Bugatti Veyron can do zero to sixty in 2.46 seconds. Nadine did zero to sixty in 1.7. When her ride, however, abruptly stopped, she just kept on going. With a deep throated gurgle one might hear from an off-loading honey wagon, Lil’ Tye slurped out of Nadine’s cunt in a shower of smegma that spattered every person in the room. The much relieved Tyrone shot jizz all over himself as Nadine summersaulted through the air.
As Nadine spun, one at a time in quick succession the E-Stim connectors drew taut at the end of their wires. The first to go was the electrified butt plug that had never stopped spinning merrily in her ass. As the wire drew taut the plug pulled out of her ass with a slurp, beaning Tyrone in the forehead, adding insult and a shit stain to his suffering. Nadine flew higher, her momentum still fighting gravitational pull. Pulled up short by the clamps on her nipples, those little buds of pleasure stretched painfully. Cranking the pain up tenfold, the clamps snapped shut simultaneously as they were dragged, popping and crackling in protest, the metal teeth scraping painfully off her crushed nipples. As Nadine continued to rise the on-looking girls winced in horror as the electrified clamp attached to the end of Nadine’s climaxing clitoris stretched that little organ to double its length. It was as taunt as the sixteen strand Dacron bowstring of Donald Trump’s longbow if he had the chance to propel an arrow into a crabapple sitting on Hillary Clinton’s head. The clamp’s steel teeth audibly, viciously, snapped off the end of the tender digit in a shower of biting sparks. The unexpected and entirely unwanted agony forced Nadine’s vaginal sponge to contract again. As she spun in the air, a stream of crystalline juices shot from her sex, this new round of copious fluids again splattering her nonplussed audience. Hackles rose on the neck of every girl there when Nadine, suspecting that the clamp tore her clit right off, let loose a gut-wrenching primordial scream not heard since Romulus killed Remus in 753BC. But for Nadine the nicest pain came when those adhesive pads stuck on her labia minora would not immediately pull off. When the wire to them drew taunt, the crackling squares pulled Nadine’s minora out so far and so thin that if the pads had not ripped off in the very last second she would have had her own skin to make a wallet out of.
Her orbit deteriorating, summersaulting one more time, Nadine crash-landed in Anita’s lap, currently occupied by Judith’s eager cunt lapping face. Anita, fortunately, saw her coming and grabbed her as she slammed into Judith full force. Stunned, Judith fell to the floor, her face shinny with Anita’s scrumptious juices. Eye’s regaining focus, Nadine found herself sitting on Anita’s lap, much like a little girl reading her Christmas list to a department store Santa. They look at one another. Nadine grinned. Anita grinned back.
END OF EXCERPT TWO
SET UP FOR EXCERPT THREE
The irascible Nadine decides to help the gay boys of Itchy Scratchy Epsilon kidnap a supposedly gay teen (Lil’ Richie) from the Gamma Spud Gamma sorority’s Time Out Room. He was naked and locked in, getting punished as were 4 Gamma Spud varsity female wrestlers, his Viagra enhanced boner staying rock hard as the girls used him again and again. He had cum multiple times, his cock as sore as hell, but still the abusive girls held him in a head lock and used him abusively for their pleasure. We join Nadine and the boys as they sneak over to Gamma Spud Gamma to make their rescue…
Nadine, shaking her head in disgust, turned back to the task at hand. She peered through the back gate. Excellent! The coast was clear…almost. A dreadlocked Rastafarian was jogging up the alley. “Who’s that?” she whispered.
A tense Gloria looked through the gate. One look and he relaxed considerably. “Dat be da Count! Count Rotti,” he clarified. He said it in a way to imply that there was more than one ‘Count’ living at the frat.
The Count jogged up to the gate, dreads down to his waist, spotted Nadine’s posse and boomed, “Glo! Vel! Chiquita! What y’all up to you band of…”
Gloria slapped a hand over Count Rotti’s mouth. “Keep it down! We on a mission!”
“A Crusade!” interjected Tyrone who was once again nervously bouncing from foot to foot.
“Say wha?” Count Rotti asked, only slightly quieter, feeling the excitement. “You be kizzlin’ some Red Dots? You want me to get ma heat?”
“Fuck off, tar baby,” Nadine growled, “We need you like a double amputee needs a new pair of runners. Make like a dum dum and shoot yourself out of Dodge.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Count Rotti roared, grabbing Nadine by the arm and giving her a good shake. “This is ma crib an…”
“Why you fucking bastard,” Nadine said, each syllable of her quiet menacing voice deeply slicing the suddenly worried Rastafarian with the same authority as a finely sharpened stiletto slicing through pink Jell-O. No one but no one was going to manhandle her like that. Nadine whirled on the so-called Count, grabbing his main braid of matted dreadlock. She wanted to jerk his head down so that they were face to face when she gave him her Evil Eye. Instead, with a damp, rotted tearing sound, Nadine tore the matted dread right off the back of his head. She stood there, blinking in surprise, with ten pounds of dank, moldy hair dangling from her hand. It reeked of every kind of decay imaginable, including moral. She shook it; dirt, mouse droppings and silverfish carcasses floated to the grass. If anything, that pissed her off even more.
Before Count Rotti could react, Nadine threw the rotting mass into his face. Fuck did it stink. At that moment, completely forgetting the mission, she screamed, “What the hell is that shit you’re cartin’ around on your head, you stupid fucking ingrate. I wouldn’t be surprised if the US Center for Disease Control found the Ebola virus lurking in there…maybe between the rat nest and the possum burrow!” she screamed.
“And that smell…God!” Nadine continued, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like cat shit, swamp gas and, and…”
“Tiger piss,” Tyrone squeaked.
“Da McNuggets rotting under da couch,” Chiquita volunteered.
“Senator Didd after da Bro’s morning BM,” Clamidia blurted.
“Chitlins,” Trystan suggested, “Befo they cleaned and cooked.”
“Oh ma purdey dreads!” Count Rotti moaned, still trying to absorb the enormity of the sudden loss. He turned on the evil girl who did him so wrong. “I hate you! I hate you!!!” he sobbed. Clutching his detached hair to his chest, he ran weeping to the House and disappeared inside.
“Jezzus!!” Nadine said, rolling her eyes. “I haven’t seen this much drama since Kim slapped the black off of Kayne after he smeared Sweet Baby Ray’s Original Barbeque Sauce all over her plump rump.”
“Are der really possums in dat dread?” Tristan asked eagerly. “I habben’t no down-home possum stew since…”
“Tristan,” Nadine demanded. “Bend down.” Tristan bent. Nadine hit him so hard that the concussion caused the paint on the fences up and down the alley to spontaneously disintegrate.
“Ow!” Trystan yipped, rubbing his head. It drove any thought of a savory stew clean out. He turned to Gloria.
“We gonna hear some real pre-Madonna wailin’ from da Count tonight,” Trystan predicted.
“Way,” Gloria answered glumly.
“Jake,” Tyrone said, shaking his head.
“Yizzle,” Chiquita agreed.
“Posilutely,” Clamidia piped up.
“If he continues like that and it gets irritating,” Nadine said dismissively, “Throw the fucker into a brier-patch. That’ll quiet him down.”
“There ain’t no briar patches in Cambridge,” Trystan said, scratching his head where he was just hit.
“He’s from Jamaica, right?” Nadine asked, doing a creditable job of holding herself back from striking again.
“Then take him a handful of colored beads and some string,” she sneered. “That always seems to help.”
Nadine took a deep, calming breath. “Let’s get going,” she said, shaking her head in scorn. “The coast is fucking clear.” The six conspirators crept out of the gate into the alleyway. Still hunkered down lower than the fence, they stealthily made their way single-file to Gamma Spud’s back gate.
“How did that moron get the name ‘Count Rotti’?” Nadine asked, almost immediately regretting having asked, dreading the answer. She opened the unlatched gate and crept through. The others followed.
“His formal Itchy Scratchy name is ‘Rimmer of the Tattooed Inferno’,” Gloria whispered, “or ‘Rotti’ for short.”
“Dat’s what he call his boyfriends tattooed cornhole,” Clamidia explained.
“And so proud of it,” Chiquita said.
“We’ve all seen it,” Trystan clarified. “He got a Greek key design aroun’ it. In orange and purple.”
Nadine winced at the explanation. She knew the answer would not be to her liking. “OK, OK,” she admonished. “Just keep it down.” Still unnoticed, they were a third of the way into the yard.
“Yeah, it’s an outie,” Chiquita whispered.
“An outie,” Trystan repeated, fondly recalling fucking the little hole.
“He loves a little Mexican,” Chiquita continued.
“A little Mexican,” Trystan repeated.
“An da day after Mexican, it’s always the Hershey squirts.”
“Hershey squirts. Always.”
“So Rotti calls it his own personal ‘Tattooed Inferno’.”
“Tatooo-ooed Inferno,” Trystan giggled.
“Shhhhhhhhhh!!!” Nadine remonstrated. They had only twenty feet to go.
“Most of the time it’s quiet but every once in a while it makes like a volcano an it explode!”
“Bombs away!” Trystan gibbered.
“Just like a black pyroclastic flow,” Chiquita pronounced.
“Pireo, proclo, pronto…” Trystan hesitated at the tongue-twister. “Well anyway, it flow.”
Nadine felt like she was getting a migraine. Who were these weird people? At least they made it to the back door of Spudville without being detected. She jumped in surprise when something soft and wet stabbed her in the back. Glancing around, she saw that Tyrone had a full-on boner, not doubt from the excitement of the moment.
Nadine gave Tyrone a look so threatening that the image would trouble him in nightmares for the next two years. “You stick me with that thing again I’ll tear it off as fast as Count Rotti’s dreads,” she warned, “then jam it up your ass so far that it would take an army of cadaver searching gerbils to find it.”
Tyrone blanched and impulsively hid behind Gloria.
Nadine took a deep calming breath. “We stick to the plan,” she instructed. “Chiquita. You stay here and keep the doorway clear. The rest of you, follow me.”
Nadine led her Swat Team into the back door, directly into the kitchen. They startled the middle-aged chef and her two assistants who immediately stopped their preparations. Surprised at the weird procession, with looks that asked ‘what the fuck’, they watched the slim young naked girl lead the four huge naked athletes as they tiptoed through the room.
“Ahhhh, can I help you?” the chef asked timidly in a heavy French accent, watching them pass.
“Yeah, bitch,” Nadine growled, giving the woman her most evil Evil Eye. “Make sure you grind that cat meat finer than you did last night. And this time make sure you get the claws out of it!” Adeline, a naturalized French gourmet chef, gasped; horrified, speechless. She stood there in shock as they crept from the room.
“Ah’m quiverin’, Glo,” Tyrone whispered as they made their way down the hall. His boner was as hard as steel.
“Be still, Velveeta darlin’,” Gloria comforted, “we is almost there.”
They made their way to the main hallway, the hallway off of which one found the Male Hospitality Room. Almost immediately they ran into a trio of gaping Spud Sisters.
“What are…” one of them began.
“Official business. Spread out, sluts,” Nadine offhandedly commanded. Without a word, the nonplussed Sisters stepped back.
Finally! They made it unmolested to the closed double doors. “Clamidia. Trystan. You stay here. Whatever you do, you keep this doorway clear. Understand?”
“You got it, boss.”
“Shush! Keep it down!” Nadine turned to Tyrone. “Once we get to the Time Out Room door, you open it and keep it opened. And keep the Spuds back. The Hospitality Room is full of them.”
“Oh mammy!” Tyrone whimpered, not at all happy he had a hard-on. Them girls might try and rape him again. Then he steeled himself. Anything for little Richie!
“Shut up, bitch!” How many times must she admonish him? She glanced at Gloria. “You and I will enter the room and gently pull any and all Spuds off Rich. We don’t want to have any…incidents.” Gloria nodded vigorously, like the springy doggie head in a car’s back window. “Once we have him freed up, Tyrone, you go in there, pick him up and shoot out this door. Clamidia. Trystan. You lead the way, like guards, and get your asses out the back door and back to the frat. Any questions?”
“I have to pee,” Trystan whispered sheepishly.
“Just hold it, bitch,” Nadine sneered. She gave her fellow conspirators’ a look that said ‘now or never.’
“All right,” Nadine directed. “On three.”
“One…” she whispered. “Two…”
“Two and a half!” Tyrone exclaimed loudly.
“You fucker! Bend down.” Tyrone bent. Nadine clocked him so hard he lost his balance. For the second time that day he went crashing through the double doors. Pin wheeling his arms to keep his balance, running sideways at a dangerous tilt, huge boner bopping up and down, he ran fifteen feet into the room and went crashing to the floor.
“Shit!” Nadine growled. She nudged Gloria in the ribs. “Let’s go!” The eyes of twenty-three shocked Spuds and four erection burdened male visitors’ watched Nadine and Gloria dash across the room to the Time Out Room door. Nadine slammed the door open to the pitch-black room. Just as she thought. Rich was still in there buried in female flesh. Having no more fight left in him, he lay motionless while one of girls rode his face and a second rode his cock. The other two varsity wrestlers, cum drying on their bodies, listlessly sat to one side waiting for another ride. All blinked rapidly, disoriented, as the bright light of day washed into the small room. In a second Nadine sent the face-sitter sprawling while Gloria bodily picked up the gal riding Rich and considerately sat her in an empty corner.
By that time three of the girls in the Hospitality Room had pounced on Tyrone, all intent on getting his prized sixteen inch Mombasa well up their coochies. “Lordy, lordy,” Tyrone gibbered in panic as he tried to brushed off the much smaller coeds. He wished he brought his knuckles. He rushed through the Hospitality Room to the Time Out Room door, dragging the girls behind him. Entering, the coed with a death grip on his ankle smacked her head into the door frame, leaving her stunned in his wake. Tyrone swooped down on one knee, thrust his arms under the limp, supine form of Little Richie, and stood. Wheeling toward the door with a mix of blind panic and unrelenting hope, he took one step out of the Time Out Room when three more girls tried to tackle him. They might as well of tried to tackle the bronze statue of John Harvard in Harvard Yard. C4 had a better idea. As Tyrone went racing past her toward the double doors, C4 lunged at him and got both hands around his thick boner bringing him up short.
Tyrone’s panic held him in good stead as he started moving again, Richie still cradled in his arms, but backwards. That damnable C4 had him by his boner and he had to pull her along, her bare feet squealing as they skidded across the marquetry floor. A stroke of luck! C4 tripped, falling over one of the downed Spuds. With nothing but brute force going for him, Tyrone dragged C4 bodily across the floor. He was just five feet from the entrance when C2 lunged at C4’s leg. Dragging both coeds by his cock through the double doors, Clamidia made short work of prying C4’s fingers free. As soon as he was free, with Clamidia and Trystan leading the way and Nadine and Gloria bringing up the rear, Tyrone bolted down the hallway toward the backdoor…and freedom for Little Richie!
On the run, Tyrone got his first good look at Rich. Oh, what a handsome lover he was going to make! He was so proud of his part in this rescue. “Oh baby,” he tittered to Rich as he ran, “I be yow White Knight in shining white armor!”
Trystan grunted to Clamidia, “That won’t last long,” he said sarcastically. “Right up to the point our ‘White Knight’ decides to shove his sixteen inch black lance up Little Richie’s ass.”
Chiquita joined Clamidia and Trystan running interference for Tyrone as they flew out the back door with Nadine and Gloria following closely behind. Responding to the bright light and rough ride, Rich groggily fluttered open his pussy juice encrusted eyes. Yikes! He was in the arms of a grimacing hideous monster! He was being carried away by a horrible frightening ogre! His heart went to his throat. Those wicked Spud coeds had made him sin so extravagantly over the last two hours that he now found himself on the express train to hell. The boogeyman had him in his arms and was taking him personally to the Fiery Pit! Rich fainted dead away.