Chapter 4
Sharon awakened, and the bright new day brought her feelings she had not expected she would feel.
Her soul was in torment, two factions at war with one another. On the one hand, she realized her virginity was gone with a feeling of conquest, overcoming a hurdle that had haunted her for many years. She had experienced the sensations of physical lust that had been a source of fear for so long, and now she could put it behind her and move on to other things.
For instance, she thought, if she met a boy she truly felt strongly about, she could after an appropriate courtship, go to bed with him without fearing dire consequences. She would not be one of "those" girls who insisted on marriage every time a boy wanted to put his hand under her skirt. She could just as easily say no too, and not feel it was because of her fear of a penis.
Still, it's hard to part with a concept, an ideal. She had lived by a code she had established for herself, and now in one night it was shattered. It had been one of two things she had strongly believed in, and now it was gone. The other was her pursuit of knowledge, and indeed she still had that, but what of it? That was a guide for her mind, not for her heart. Her heart had told her nothing of academia, only of love and its affiliations. Rule: somebody who loves you also respects you, and will not try to fuck you (my God, am I really thinking with those words?) until there is a legal bind between you.
But that rule had no force behind it, the law had been repealed. Her entire code of ethics, her whole standard of behavior had evaporated the instant Paul had parted her awakening pussy lips with the thick, hot head of his cock.
What could she believe in now? How was she to behave? Should she act cheap and soiled, wear revealing clothes and wiggle her ass the way she'd seen the hussies wiggling theirs at home? Should she maintain the illusion of purity, even though it would be living a lie? Now that she had spread her long, sensuous legs for a man, she wondered, would it matter very much if she did it again and again?
She could, she realized, consider it an accident, something that happened that she would not allow to happen again.
But that contradicted the other emotion she felt-that she had loved it so. In fact, she ached and pined to have Paul's thrilling, rigid penis inside her again.
NO! That's not right, nor was it like her. Perhaps she had been fucked for the first time, but she was still Sharon Simmons, still the same person with the same brain and the same heart. And she knew, deep in her heart, that what she had done was wrong, despite what her mother had told her.
She arose slowly, trembling from the conflict within her. Every movement had to be carefully planned, deliberated, studied. Her mind concentrated so hard on her predicament that she had to think to shower, to lather her slender, firm body with soap and rinse it away. Everything she did took concentration, because her entire mind was elsewhere.
She moved like a ghost, pale and slow, down to breakfast. The other girls displayed a variety of emotions, but she could not pay attention to them. Her own emotions monopolized her mind.
The other pledges in particular were a gallery of expression, but none so severe as Sharon. Some were happy and gleeful, and she suspected in the far recesses of her mind they had been laid for the first time, but had always wanted it. Now they had satisfied a desire, fulfilled a wish.
Others were acting as though nothing at all had happened, and these, she guessed, had been impaled on a male erection at least four or five times in the past.
Then there were a couple who seemed down in the dumps, and they were having fits of conscience over their actions of the previous night. But none were in as deep a fog as was Sharon. Her body felt numb, her vision was not real, the sounds she heard were far away. Her conscience was not merely nagging at her; it was killing her.
Halfway through breakfast she felt her meal rising from her stomach, in her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand and dashed upstairs. Behind her, she heard a few giggles. "Knock it off," she heard Connie say. "She'll be all right."
She reached the bathroom and fell to her knees and dry-heaved, but nothing came up. It was tension and nerves and guilt. She had obviously not betrayed her mother, nor the sisters of SEX. But she had, she knew now, betrayed herself, and her own morality. It was nothing religious; she didn't believe she had sinned or committed an affront to God. But if she didn't have the strength of her own strongest convictions, what did she have the strength for?
She went to her room and gathered the books she would need for the day, seeing their titles through a fog, and descended the stairs once again, bypassing the dining room and heading out the door.
It was too early for class, so she wandered aimlessly, seeing nothing, not feeling that the air had turned colder than it had been, the wind nipping at her bare legs. She still wore her staid, plain dress, but she felt like a hooker parading down the street, and no matter how many times she spied her reflection in a window, she could not dispel this feeling. She was a filthy whore, she told herself.
A bell tolled somewhere in the distance, and she snapped partially out of her introversion and looked at her watch. She had been meandering about without direction for over two hours, and now she was late for class.
Which class, she asked herself.
History, you whore.
She trotted at a good clip to the History Building, dashed down the emptied corridors listening to her footsteps echo in the great hallway. She burst into the classroom unceremoniously, and found a seat. Only when she was seated did she realize there were perhaps fifteen other students there who had not been there the last time.
Professor Roland stopped in the middle of his lecture to allow the latecomer a chance to find a seat, and was about to say something about her tardiness when he recognized who it was, that girl Sharon who had been here before, when the rest of the class had not bothered to show up.
As she moved to sit down, he saw the fine, tapered curve of her cheeks, and he felt a stirring inside his loins. Then he noticed Debbie's eyes burning into him, and when he looked at her, she just smiled and winked. He ignored it.
He continued with his lecture, but now his eyes, which usually roamed the classroom and sought eye contact with the class at large, kept drifting back to Sharon. Yet for some reason, she did not appear to see him. She sat still in her seat, her hands neatly folded in front of her, but she did not seem to see anything, instead it appeared, she was looking through him, through the walls of the room and off into space. Something was troubling her.
But now he had 17 students, of a racial and sexual mix, and he could not concentrate on the two who were there before-one whom he had fucked repeatedly, the other whom he was determined to have before the semester ended.
He relied now more on his lecture notes, since his mind was on the future instead of the past. Each time he spied her delicate, flawless face, he felt blood gush a little more into the long shaft of his cock, and finally he was forced to stand behind the lecturn in order to cover the hugeness that had formed in his pants.
Sharon had no inkling that out of 17 students, Roland was in his mind concentrating deeply on her. Nor did she know he thought she was not paying attention. In fact, she was paying attention, trying to bury her agonizing thoughts in the pleasures of history and learning.
She stared so rigidly straight ahead because of her reaction toward seeing Professor Roland. Before she had thought him a fine specimen of a man, learned and probably well bred. Now, since her encounter with Paul Slaughter, she saw him with a different eye. He was tall and well built and deliciously good looking. Despite herself, she found herself wondering what his penis looked liked, if it was stiff and long with a series of maplike blue veins ridging its length. She wondered as she stared what it would be like to spread her legs far apart for him, showing him the inside of her pink, scented cunt, grasping his throbbing cock by the base and steering it inside, feeling the crown separate the walls of her cuntal interior as it sought refuge in the deepest parts of its warm, clinging wetness.
She jerked her head when she realized the class was breaking up, chairs were being pushed back and students were leaving; some had already left. She had been wondering if most girls thought of their teachers in those terms, and realized they probably did, only not in such detail as herself. She was reminding herself that she was new to this game, and not at all comfortable with it yet, when the class dispersed. She started out of her chair, but was already the last to be leaving. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw Roland coming toward her.
"It's Sharon, isn't it?" he said.
"That's right," she stammered.
"I couldn't help noticing," he said. "Is something wrong?"
She looked up at him, suddenly feeling as though there had been a stab of pity from this man to shake her just a little from her mood. "Yes," she said, grateful inside to what she saw as a sincere intrusion. "Yes, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine. I know we've only met once, but you struck me noticeably as a studious type. I wasn't wrong, was I?"
"Oh, no," she said, now compelled to defend her interest in academia. "I graduated with 3.9 from high school. I would have had a 4.0 but for one damned B," she stammered, because the use of a foul word was new to her, yet it had come so easily. "I got the B because I had pneumonia, and I had to miss five weeks of school. I managed to study in all my courses well enough but one, microbiology."
"They had microbiology in your high school?"
"It was a special college-level class for advanced students," she explained. "I was still president of the Girl's Athletic Association, president of the student body and class valedictorian."
Roland was astonished, and amazed. She was not only sensationally beautiful (and that without makeup or the kind of clothes beautiful girls wear), and equally brilliant! He fell in love in that instant.
Nor did he fall out of lust. His throbbing erection still clouded his vision of the girl, and was uppermost in his mind. "Then what is it?" he asked. "What's bothering you?"
"It's nothing, really," she said. "Just one of those ... one of those things with a sorority. I'll get over it."
"I don't think you believe a word of that," he said with a friendly concerned smile. "Which is too bad, since it's entirely true. Maybe I can help, though."
Her interest now was truly piqued. "How could you do that?" she asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.
He shrugged, and she delighted in the boyish honesty in his face. She felt incredibly better than she had, and awaited his response eagerly. "I thought we could ... talk about it," he said. "Maybe over dinner tomorrow."
It wasn't what she had been expecting, but she was not turned off by it, either. She had been expecting more or less a fatherly bit of sage advice, and here, from a real college professor, had come the offer of a date!
And she thrilled herself even more. She had been so excited by his attention, his sincerity, his maturity, that she had forgotten the distressing events of the evening before. And when he had asked her to dinner, she immediately knew she would say yes, and the thought of doing with Professor Roland what she had done with Paul never entered her mind.
"Why, Professor," she stammered. "I ... I'd love to."
"Fine," Roland said, his heart hammering from arousal as he gazed at the small exposure of cleavage that peeked over the top of her outfit. "You say you're with which sorority house?"
"Sigma Epsilon Chi," she told him.
He nodded, the name signifying nothing to him, beyond the irony of the letters. "Isn't that a bit racy of a name?"
"That's what I thought," she told him. "But it's a very old house, and the letters in Greek signify nothing." She was impressed now with the depth of the secrecy oath in Sigma Epsilon Chi.
"That's true," he said. "Anyway, so I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow. You'll be ready?"
She knew she would be, but she hesitated. Finally her mind overpowering her better sense, she blurted out, "I'll be ready."
As she made her way back to the house, her newly born good mood firmed her resolve as it deepened her confidence in herself. She would get a job, she thought, and find an apartment-even share it with a roommate or two, if she had to. She would quit SEX, leave their sordid practices behind.
Her buoyancy lifted her to ecstatic heights, and she felt no fear or trepidation as she waltzed into the house, on her way up to her room.
"What are you so happy about?" she heard, and stopped, looking over the stair banister to see Connie sitting cross-legged with a textbook on her lap on the den couch. "When you crawled out of here this morning, you looked like death warmed over."
Sharon leaned far out over the banister, her firm breasts dangling from above Hike ripe apples. "I quit," she said.
Connie looked at her, dumbfounded. "You what?"
"I quit! I'm finished, done, through. I came here to go to college and get an education, not, not get that kind of education. I'm going to find a job, even if it means flipping pizzas, and get an apartment, no matter how shabby it is, and I am going to get out of here."
Connie sat bolt upright, about to spew out her objections, but Sharon had already fled happily upstairs. Connie flung her books aside, and darted up after her.
She found her door closed, and knocked.
"I don't live here any more," she heard Sharon's merry voice drift from within.
"Sharon, I want to talk to you. "
"There's nothing to talk about," she said.
"May I please come in?"
She waited while Sharon deliberated. Finally, her voice said, "Oh, all right, but it won't do you any good."
Connie came in and leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her orbular breasts, pressing deeply into the fleshy orbs.
"What makes you think it's so easy to just up and quit? You think you can just walk out of here?"
"And why not?" Sharon said, as she folded a shirt to settle it into the suitcase she had laying open on her bed. I
"We're a very discriminating sorority," Connie told her, her voice full of sternness. "Every pledge is screened beforehand-that's why we have no rush with the rest of the school. We're notified by your mothers and neighborhood friends of your arrival here, and we prepare for you. You can't leave."
Sharon was shocked at the revelation, but not dismayed. "I'm sorry you went to so much trouble. I'm going."
"You mean to tell me you didn't like it? That you might have even needed it, to lift a great weight from your shoulders? I spoke with Paul today. You didn't exactly resist."
That slowed her up, but she still intended to go. "Yes," she admitted, "I liked it. That doesn't mean my lifestyle has to revolve around it. There are more important things. And if I find somebody to love ..."
"Then you'll spread your legs for him, right? Jesus, you've got a lot to learn. Don't you understand that one cock is just the same as another insofar as what it does to you physically? Some are longer, some shorter, some thicker, some thinner, and some are better than others with no regard to the rest, but when you've had one, it makes no difference any more how many you have. If you love somebody, of course it feels different, emotionally, but it's the same friction of his hot meat all the same. Understand?"
"Yes," she said, her mood beginning to dissipate. "But I still have to go. Please, Connie. I don't care what anybody else does. But I have to do what's right for me."
"You still don't understand," Connie said. "You can't leave. It's not a matter of what you want. You can't leave."
"What are you going to do, hold me prisoner?"
"Of course not," Connie said. "May I make one suggestion? Call your mother. Tell her what you plan on doing."
"All right," Sharon said. She knew her mother, but she had been surprised that she had steered her to the sorority in the first place, and she thought she understood that. Her mother had been a member, and had seen a need for her daughter to get a taste of the real world she had always stayed removed from. Well, now she had had her taste, and Mom would never deny her her freedom of choice, and her rights as an individual.
She dialed, and waited for the ringing to stop and her mother to answer. She finally did. She told her mother of her plans to quit.
There was a silence on the other end, then her mother said softly and coldly, "If that's what you want, dear."
"We can talk about it when I come home. I know the sorority meant a lot to you and I want to sit and talk about it with you."
"When you come home?" her mother said.
"Yes, for Easter."
"Oh no, dear. If you shirk your obligation to Sigma Epsilon Chi, you can't come home."
Her heart skipped a beat and she felt her face flush with blood. "What?" she said.
"You won't be welcome here. I'm certain your father would concur in that decision."
Sharon in a trance, let the phone slide to the cradle, cutting her mother off.
"Well?" Connie said.
"I'm staying," she said, empty. "I have no choice."
Dear Diary:
I was empty, desolate. For the first time in my life, I felt I had no alternatives, no future.
I no longer feel that way. Now once again, I feel torn, at odds with myself, unable to understand which way I feel. That may seem shocking, but something happened, and I learned a little more about myself.
After crying silently on the bed for an hour, then sitting in depressed silence for another, I got antsy, and had to stroll, pacing the room was too confining, making me feel like a caged animal.
I burst out of my room, and stalked down the hall, but stopped, my instinctive curiosity making me pause as I heard something unusual. It was the sound of moaning, coming from inside one of the rooms. The door was open ajar, but it was dark inside.
A chorus of womanly moans made up the sound, with an occasional deeper cry, almost ghostly with its intense pleasure. I couldn't imagine what it might be, and I peered around the corner into the partially open door.
At first all I could see was shining motion, glimmering, glistening moistness swimming in the dark. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw they were bodies, female forms, swarming over each other atop the bed. I gasped, and tried to pull myself away.
Only I couldn't.
As I watched their bodies intertwined, stroking and caressing one another, I recognized them as Melanie and Kim. I knew I should have been repelled, but instead I was drawn inside. Only when I had the advantage of sharing their darkness with no light to dim my view did I notice they were not alone. Nor were they lavishing their lustful intentions on one another. Beneath them lay one of the boys from KKA, naked and writhing beneath the weight of their naked bodies.
All of my emotions vanished, all of the conflicts battling within me drifted away, and I was left with a wanton desire, burning through me. It was the same feeling I had felt after Paul had pierced my virgin cunt, and settled his cock deep inside. All I wanted was that feeling inside my pussy, like a fire had been lit there.
Melanie saw me, and sat up a little, smiling at me. She was panting, her hair was disarrayed and she had been sweating from exertion. She had pear-shaped breasts that pointed upward, and the boy's nibble marks covered both of them; her nipples were pointed like arrow tips off the end of the breasts. The boy opened his eyes and looked at her, and that was the first time she noticed his cock, which had up until then hidden in the wrappage of Melanie's anxious hand.
It jumped to life when he saw her, thickening and pulsating. "Join us, won't you?" Melanie said. Kim turned and looked at her, and smiled.
"What?" I asked.
Kim curled her fingers around the tense hardness of his throbbing shaft, and squeezed, eliciting a moan from the man it was attached to. He arched his back and the head of his cock turned red.
"Come on," Kim said. "Take off your clothes."
I was overpowered by the desire inside of me. I yanked my gray knit top off and fumbled my brassiere free, allowing the jiggly flesh of my taut breasts to burst free.
I stepped out of my shoes, and unzipped my dress, never taking my eyes from the frozen scene before me. When they saw me slip out of the dress, they returned to their work. Melanie covered the boy's mouth with hers, mashing and twisting her moist, rich lips against his. His hand rose and covered her swinging tits, and she moved her head up to allow him to kiss and nibble her neck. His hand drifted between her legs, which she parted for him eagerly, allowing him easy access to her quivering cunt. She kept moving up, always remaining in a position so his finger could probe inside her wet hole.
Finally she was high enough that he was nibbling again on her breasts, cupping the conical, milky tit he was chewing, biting particularly zealously on her pebbly nipple.
Kim, in the meantime, had interlocked her fingers around the base of his meaty thickness and pointed it upward, holding it steady. At first, she slid over it, capturing it between the warm blankets of her orbular breasts and massaging his length up and down. Finally, when she had worked herself into an erotic frenzy, moaning and writhing against the rigidity of his shaft, she released it from the grip of her tits and dove down on it, taking it between her lips and swallowing it down to her laced fingers. I watched her cheeks hollow out and then return to normal as she sucked voraciously, and lifted her head to allow another thrust of his turgid stiffness into the cavern of her mouth.
She unlaced her fingers and swallowed his whole meaty shaft, and he gasped and moaned, arching his back again. I think he even forgot I was there with the things being done to him.
But I wasn't about to let him forget me. By now I was out of my clothes, and I approached the bed, lay upon it, beside the three people interlocked as one. But none of the boy's body was available to me. I couldn't just lay there, though.
Besides, things were progressing without me. Melanie had lifted herself again, pulling her well-eaten breasts from Paul's desperate, grasping mouth. He was placated soon enough, though, as she pressed her quivering pussy against his hungry mouth. I saw his tongue push out from between his lips and disappear into the moist mound of pussy hair.
The only part of his body open was his midriff, so I straddled it, wriggling my eager pussy against his stiff, hard male flesh. It itched at the touch, and I wanted his cock badly, I ached for it, but I knew I would have to be patient; I would have to maneuver my way into access to his blue-veined stiffness.
I looked directly at his head, but only saw his chin below me, working his jaws on Melanie's gaping, splayed cunt. Her breasts loomed in front of me, so I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, and closed my tense mouth over her stiff nipples.
I instantly forgot about his cock, if only tentatively. Her nipple was like a piece of hard candy in my mouth, yielding and pliable yet stiff enough to withstand my eager nibbling, my teeth gently closing again and again over her breast tips.
I provoked groans from her; I only could tell they were the direct result of my attentions, and hearing the groans made my pussy begin to lubricate, and I knew I was smearing his midriff with my love juices.
Melanie pulled me close, holding my head in her hands and running her fingers through my thick hair. But now I wanted more, something different. I yanked away, still pulling on her nipple with my fingers, but now I could see behind me, where Kim, busily sucking the boy's cock, was sitting with her legs spread.
I could see the pink inner membrane flesh of her dripping cunt, and I swung around, smearing more of my lubricant on the man who was my seat, and dove as I had seen her do on his cock, only I dove between the spread, creamy thighs.
My tongue darted between the parted, splayed pussy lips, and I tasted for the first time the intoxicating juice of another woman's cunt. I licked like I was tasting my first popsicle, lapping up mouthful of the fluid and swallowing them after allowing them to coat my tongue and stimulate every taste bud that lay on my soft, pink mouth muscle.
The tip of my tongue jutted against something hard, and I knew I had found her clitoris. She confirmed it for me by starting, jerking, and clamping her silky white thighs against my head. I curled my tongue around the hard little button and tugged, and she jerked again, and now it was Kim moaning and mewling in response to my actions.
I sucked and tugged, drinking in her liquids, as I felt her tension intensify. My head was yanked up and down, back and forth as Kim began to approach orgasm, her jerks becoming spasmodically regular.
Finally, she cried, "Ah, God," and shuddered to an orgasm that creamed over my face. I thought about hungrily lapping the fluids, but upon hearing her words, I knew his cock had slid free of her mouth.
I pushed her away as she collapsed in a satisfied spent heap. I lifted one leg over his waist, grabbing his slickly wet shaft at the base and guiding it between my burning, ancipiation-ridden cuntal walls.
I relished every instant of his spongy cock head boring through the depths of my pussy. Like the end of a drill he pushed through me as I sunk down until the matt of hair growing from my pussy bounced against his, and I knew he was inside me as deeply as he was going to go.
I put my hands on Melanie's thighs, looking directly at his mouth still eating her cunt, but with diminished enthusiasm as he felt my moist flesh grasping his rigid stiffness.
I pushed against her shoulders, and let his cock slip from my cunt, then fell on it again, swallowing it. I humped him like a common girl, humping him harder and harder, feeling him swell inside me, and come as he bit too hard on Melanie's cunt (although she climaxed from the pain, rather than crying out). I kept humping and humping, even when I felt his cock begin to go limp, until I extracted from my exhausted little pussy an intense, delirious orgasm, writhing against him, crying out and gasping.
When I was done, I jumped from him, gathered my clothes and ran back to my room. There I sat and thought. Then I dressed, brushed my hair, went downstairs and found Connie.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "I was rash. I made a mistake."
She smiled at me. "I knew you'd come around," she said sweetly. "Forget it."
I went back to my room and lay down. Now on my mind was Paul and the just-done experience, Professor Roland, my old morals, my uncontrolled lust. I was confused and upset.
I was right back to square one with no idea of what direction I was headed. I was lost.