Chapter 2
Dear Diary:
Today I became a Sigma Epsilon Chi pledge.
Already I feel at home here. The young ladies who are sisters of this upper-crust sorority are of the best class. They seem intent on their education, and studious. Even though I am a pledge, I feel more accepted among the SEX sisters than I ever did among my peers back home.
Being a pledge, of course, does not make me a full-fledged sister. That is still several weeks away. I am on a sort of probation, which is not unique to this house; all sororities and fraternities work that way. There are several other pledges, also from families which have had members in SEX. Some, I suspect, will wash out, while others will pass the pledge phase, as well as the week-long "hazing" to become regular sisters, with all the recognition and responsibility attendant to that honor.
I have already moved my few belongings from that awful motel to my room at the house. Right now I have the room to myself, a marvelous feeling of privacy and security after a lifetime of sharing a room with a younger sister. Still, there is another bed in the room (there are two beds in every room except the president's), and should another sister desire to live in the house, I could become somebody's roommate. But I wouldn't mind, since I know any sister of SEX and I would get along fine.
After moving in and distributing my belongings to their proper places in the room, I enjoyed my first meal at the house. Everybody takes turns cooking here, and I was told my first turn comes up in three days. I think I'll make my lasagna, which was always a hit at home.
Then after dinner, it was time to be initiated as a pledge to the sorority. I naturally expected some bizarre rite, and I was not disappointed. I have heard many stories about Greek initiations, with all of their strange, symbolic overtones. Still, I was not prepared for the SEX rite.
We pledges-eight of us, in all, all well-built, lovely girls (if I am to be honest with myself, I cannot deny my good looks)-were lined up and blindfolded. Then we were each assigned one of the regular sisters, and told if we moved or cried out, that would be the end of our sisterhood then and there.
I felt my heart accelerate as I wondered what was about to happen to us. I could hear the nervous breathing of my fellow pledges, but trapped in the darkness of my blindfold, I felt distinctly alone.
"All right," I heard Connie call out-Connie was conducting the initiation, as was her privilege as SEX president. "Hold your arms up."
I heard a rustling of material as I hoisted my hands above my head. I didn't know what to expect, but what happened was the sister assigned to me lifted my sweater over my head, removing it. I could tell by the sounds of rustling clothing that the tops of the other seven pledges were being taken off, too.
We hadn't been told to put our arms down, and I so very badly wanted to pass the initiation that I kept them up. It turned out to be a wise choice, since I heard Connie yell to one of the other pledges, "Did I tell you to put your arms down?"
In a minute, I felt the clasp of my brassiere being unhooked, and I felt my firm breasts bounce free; I felt my nipples harden against the air, and I felt like squirming from the unease I felt. Still, I have heard of worse initiations. At one college, I understand, they made their pledges swallow a piece of raw liver while blindfolded. One pledge allegedly choked to death. There was no harm in nakedness, I told myself.
"Now," Connie said. "Put your arms down."
I dropped my arms to my side and stood as straight and erect as I could, trying to look as dignified as possible despite my state of half-dress.
That state soon came to an end, though, as I felt my dress being unzipped; it rustled to my ankles, and Connie ordered us to lift our right feet. I lifted mine, then put it down and lifted my left, as told. My dress had been whisked away. The same process was repeated for my panties and nylons, so that in a matter of moments I stood with the others wearing absolutely nothing but my blindfold. A strange, musky odor filled the room, wafting into my nostrils, and I knew it was the scent of natural lubricants stimulated within the vaginas of the other girls. And judging by the queer, quivering feeling deep inside my own, I was adding my aroma to the congregate scent.
"Stand straight," Connie bellowed, "and spread your legs."
I obeyed, spreading my legs and keeping my knees straight, as though straddling some object. I felt something like a whisper of air brush my soft thighs, but I guessed it was either my imagination or a draft. After all, I had no clothing on.
Still, my cunt was reacting in a very strange manner. I am a virgin, of course, saving myself for that right man who offers his life to me in marriage, and I have experienced very little of the forbidden sexual pleasures so many girls opt to participate in before they should. The tender, pink lips of my pussy began to jiggle and the dark, moist tunnel inside of me filled with a prickly warmth that shuddered along my spine. I felt suddenly anxious and frustrated. And confused.
"Remember," Connie said. "Any movement, any loud noises, and your affiliation with SEX is over."
I waited, and suddenly felt something against my vulva. It was flat and squirmy and wet-a tongue! I felt a cry rise in my throat and I choked it back as the tongue flattened against the underside of my pussy and wriggled about, creating friction that in turn generated flames deep within me.
I remained perfectly rigid, telling myself over and over again that the whole idea behind a Greek initiation rite was that the experience was to be unanticipated, that it was a test to see how I would react to a situation for which I was unprepared.
I did not cry out loud, but I did whimper and mew as the tongue drenched my mound of pubic hair. When my mattress of cuntal fur was thoroughly soaked, the tongue pushed upward, prying apart my sizzling cleft and working up inside my never-before-entered cunt.
I gasped, but fought to remain still. My knees were turning to jelly as I fought for control over the strange, erotic sensations that sang through me. The tongue wormed up my slit, tasting the gush of pussy juice that spilled from some secret place inside.
To my right I heard a girl's sharp, agonized cry, and I bit my lip. My ears detected the sound of somebody walking to her. From what I heard I guessed they tore the blindfold from her head and shoved her clothes into her arms. "You're through," I heard Connie say. "Finished. Get dressed, get your things and get out."
"But..." the girl began to plead.
"No buts. The initiation exists for pure and simple reasons, and you have failed. That's all there is to it. It's not too late to rush another sorority."
The girl started to say something, but my ears filled instead with a loud ringing as the tongue beneath my parted, creamy thighs discovered my clitoris and captured it in its tight, rigid curl.
I've never been interested in sex; I've never even masturbated. Indeed, I have always pushed unwanted feelings of arousal far away whenever they have occurred, but this time I had no choice but to experience it.
The tongue held my rigid, throbbing clitoris in its unrelenting fold, and pulled back into the mouth to which it was attached, dragging my inexperienced little clitty from its niche with it. The lips that surrounded the tongue closed over my clitoris, and I felt teeth nibbling at it, making it grow and shoot electric shocks to the ends of every nerve in my body.
Suddenly the tongue released my clitoris and stuffed itself deeply into the mysterious cavern of my pussy, and I felt my first orgasm. In the back of my mind I knew I was to stand stock still, but the rest of my mind refused to acknowledge it. My knees were shaking, the hands at my side shook in a frenzy, desperate to grasp the head that was planted between my legs, my head tilted back and I used every fiber of willpower within me to keep from screaming in erotic ecstasy.
My fluids gushed out, and I felt the tongue inside me work frantically to lap them up.
Then, slowly, the warmth subsided, and I returned to my senses, dazed. I was shocked and ashamed, then remembered I was here for an initiation. I allowed myself to be dressed and led blindfolded back to my room. There, my blindfold removed, and one of the sisters named Melinda was with me, looking prim and proper. She hugged me in a sisterly fashion, and smiled purely. "Congratulations," she said. "You made it. You're a SEX pledge."
The shame left me, and I smiled back. I was filled with a strange sense of pride.
I closed my door and lay on the bed, letting the warmth I had felt return to my memory. Everything was going to be just fine
Sharon slept soundly that night, comforted by the knowledge that she slept within the closed confines of her own room in her house, surrounded by slumbering sisters who would protect her, and who could count on her for protection as well.
She was secure and happy, and her dreams were a long string of happy endings. For once she was not ostracized, outcast, exempt from the goings-on of those who had fun and enjoyed life. Now she could immerse herself in her studies without fearing that her intense academic pursuits were in reality nothing more than an escape from real life trauma.
She arose feeling rested, and recounted those dreams she was fortunate enough to remember.
Somehow she had forgotten the dreams with an accent on the erotic-one, for instance, dealt with a giant tongue that snaked toward her, flicking and twisting and curling, groping in darkness toward her loins which ached from desire and wanton arousal. She had even climaxed in her sleep without being aware of it, dripping a smattering of her sticky sweet love juice onto the sheets, which dried before she awakened. She never knew she had experienced the second orgasm of her life.
She had accomplished it with a pillow. As she dreamed of some nebulous sexual organ invading her parted cuntal lips, she had pulled the pillow down between her legs and then squeezed her knees together, drawing the pillow hard against the underside of her awakened cunt. Each time she dreamed the orgam had thrust into her, she had pulled the pillow hard into herself, moistening the corner and jamming it against her clitoris, until finally her button-like little clitty could stand no more, and erupted in a volcanic orgasm that had her moaning and gyrating her slender, curvy hips against the firm mattress. Then, still asleep, she had returned the pillow beneath her head and drifted back into a dreamless state. Like the sheets, her pillow had dried by the time the sun crept in through her window.
After showering and taking care of her body, she had stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom in awe. She noticed a glow about her she had never seen before, a sort of halo that surrounded and engulfed her. She suspected it came from a brand new sense of well-being and acceptance. She finally belonged. She was happy.
She bounced down the stairs to the breakfast table, where some of the girls had already congregated. Others still used the bathroom, still others were either just arising or still asleep.
She sat and was instantly served her breakfast, a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, home-fried potatoes and sliced tomatoes. There was orange juice, milk, water and coffee. In the center of the table was a plate heaping with strips of meaty bacon!
The chatter was meaningless, friendly and cozy. Somebody mentioned a study group would be forming for an advanced biology class, and Sharon's ears perked, then she deflated when she realized she was not in that class. She thought she might sit in anyway, until a study group formed she could be part of, just so she could be active, be part of what was going on.
The early eaters drifted away and some late arrivers took their places, and conversation continued without a beat. Sharon was impressed with the lofty, cultured tone of the talk, at the correct use of most grammar and the rich vocabularies displayed by the SEX sisters.
Still, she was irked by something inside her she could not get rid of. Each girl at the table attracted her attention for a moment as she wondered if that girl was the one who had lain beneath her the night before, bathing her splayed and open pussy with her eager tongue.
She felt relieved to a degree when she finished her breakfast and returned to her room alone. Again she told herself last night was only a fraternal ritual, designed to enhance a bond between the members of the sorority, to encourage a sisterly feeling and a shared secret. She would not think about it again, she told herself. It was wrong, she insisted in her mind, to equate a Greek initiation rite with long-buried sexual yearnings.
Besides, she may be a stone fox, she told herself, the frequent object of much male attention, but her own desires did not lean toward the sexual. Her mind was in a much loftier place, in the clouds of academic achievement. Sex preoccupied so much time of so many people. She would never fall into that trap. She would remain chaste, and reach more permanent, lasting goals.
She combed her long hair until it shined seemingly from a light source of "its own, then smoothed her conservative, colorless clothes out, and gathered her textbooks and notebooks and pens. She checked once more to make sure she had everything, that she looked her part, then wandered again downstairs.
Connie was at the breakfast table now, beginning her meal. "Class today?" she said.
"My first one," she said. "Imagine, my first college class. I'm very excited, even though it's not a particularly exciting class."
Connie sighed. "None of them are particularly exciting, actually, for people of our caliber. By the way, I wanted to mention that we're very proud of you. You performed nobly at last night's initiation."
Sharon blushed and was ashamed of her blush. She blurted a thank you, then said, "I'd better go; I don't want to be late even for a worthless class. They all count in the GPA, you know."
Connie smiled her agreement and watched Sharon's sculptured, round ass wiggle as she darted out of the house. It was obviously a beautiful set of buttocks, even through the bland and dull skirt she wore.
"She's going to be one of our best," Connie said to Monica, a sandy-haired blonde with sharply conical breasts who sat beside her.
Monica licked her lips absently, tasting the bittersweet tastes of Sharon's cunt once again. "I know," she mused. "I know."
Sharon walked confidently across the street from fraternity row and onto the campus proper. A map she had obtained told her how to get to her class, and she found it with ease, walking into what she considered the hallowed halls of the ancient, brick history building.
Her footsteps meshed with those of several hundred other students rushing to their first class of the fall, and echoed resoundingly in the great hall. She counted off the room numbers, found the one on her class card, and went inside.
She was taken aback. Nobody was in the room except for one black girl wearing jeans and an obscenely tight tee-shirt. Her feet were clad in sneakers, and dangled over the back of the chair in front of her.
She had no textbooks and only a tattered notebook that had been scribbled upon mercilessly. She filed her nails with an emery board and looked up at Sharon with virtually no interest when she entered the room.
"Am I in the right place?" Sharon said.
"History one-oh-one," the girl said, bored.
Sharon looked at her card. "That's right."
"Then you're in the right place. Grab a seat, if you can find one."
Sharon looked at her watch. Class was slated to begin in two minutes. Hesitantly she picked out a seat not too far and not too close to the black girl. She looked at her sole classmate carefully now. She had smooth, chocolate skin and a beautiful Nubian face hidden mostly by cascading waves of straight, shiny-black hair. She was short and compact, with her legs masked by jeans and breasts huge and jiggly, displayed blatantly through the thin fabric of her tee-shirt, which offered up the name of some rock 'n roll band Sharon had never heard of.
The two minutes ticked off, and the door opened. Sharon looked up to see the new entry to the class was obviously the professor, who seemed as dumbstruck at the absence of students as she had been.
He plopped his books down at the lectern and stood, looking confused and unsure of himself. "Hi, all," he finally said. Sharon studied him, pleased that he was tall, well-built, handsome and academic looking, particularly because of his thick glasses and tweed jacket.
She was also impressed with his pile of books.
He eyed the black girl, and said, "I know you, Debbie, since you're repeating this course for the second time."
Debbie muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Damn honky bastard."
Then the teacher shifted his gaze to Sharon, who sat primly upright at her desk. Had she been able to see below the lectern, she would have seen a bulge form in the crotch of his pants, a reaction to the sight of her goddess-like face and perfect breasts. "You, I don't know, since my roster indicates there were to be forty-four students in this class."
"Sharon Simmons," she said, and her soft voice melted his heart like so much butter. Without being conspicuous, he tried to see how short her skirt was, but the top of her desk was in the way.
"I'm Professor Dirk Roland," he said, "And this is supposed to be History one-oh-one. But perhaps most of our students haven't yet arrived. I... suppose we'll adjourn until Thursday's session, and see if we have more of a class then. Er ... dismissed."
Smiling, Sharon rose and nodded at him, and walked out of the class, ignorant of the teacher's gaze, following her, locked on her swiveling hips, and the apple-shaped curve of her buttock cheeks.
Once she had left the room, Debbie said, "She's a cute one, ain't she? Goin to fuck her?"
Dirk strolled out from behind the lectern and displayed his pulsating mound trapped behind his trouser zipper. "I don't know what you're doing back here."
"I flunked again. Doncha remember?'
"But as long as you are, you can help me again."
"You call that help?" Debbie said. "Sticking your white meat in me so you won't be frustrated seein all that fancy white stuff struttin' around?"
"Come over here," he commanded. She rose cockily and approached him. "Go close the door," he said, and as she did, he shut the Venetian blinds.
"I ain't goin' to fuck you for nothing this semester, man," she said.
"I'll pass you this semester. A, B, at least."
Her eyes widened. "You serious, or you just jivin' my ass?"
"I'm serious," he said, and he reached out and undid her pants, "and I intend to do something different to your ass."
Her eyes closed at his words and he yanked her jeans down over her slender, tapered, chocolate colored legs. "Oh, man, you turn me on when you talk dirty. Tell me, white baby, what you goin' to do?"
He pulled her head close to his and planted the flat of his tongue in her ear, blowing hot liquid breath inside that made her black pussy steam with flowing lubricant. "I'm going to shove my hard cock right up your black asshole," he said, "until it hurts, you bitch, until it brings tears to your eyes."
She moaned, a high-pitched, surrendering sound, then whispered through a smile accented by her lightly closed eyes, "Oh yeah, baby, do it."
He whirled her around and pushed her down over a desk, her feet still planted on the floor. With his right hand he undid his own pants, and his erect stiffness sprang free; with his left hand he spread her rubbery rectum open into a small but gaping hole, about half the width of his pulsating, red-colored cock crown.
"Shove it in me, teach," she groaned, and he guided his cock with his hand and wedged it against the puck-ringed anus, then thrust with one great massive shove.
His impaling thickness stabbed into her so hard she instinctively tried to wrench away, but he gripped the fleshy cheeks and held her close to him, the buttocks firm now against his pelvis as his cock disappeared inside her, the walls of her asshole gripping his meatiness like a vise.
She choked back a scream, then moaned in compensation as her knuckles turned literally white gripping the chair in front of her. "Aaahhggh, damn, man," she said, feeling the promised tears well up in her eyes. "Fuck me, fuck me so hard I can't fuck nobody no more," she begged.
He obliged her, withdrawing so his cock plopped out of her ass entry, then, now moist from the first thrust, shoved it in afresh. Each thrust was a new entry, ripping at her innards while each push jammed her sopping pussy against the desk top, rubbing against her clitoris until she shuddered in an exquisite climax.
When she was done she reached behind him and grabbed his dangling, bloated testicles and whispered, "Wash my bowels with your white cum, baby," and the sound of her urging voice brought on the geyser of semen, flooding her and seeping out around the crack between his rigid, thick penis and her tight little rectum.
He pulled out, and pulled his pants back up. "Class dismissed," he said. She collapsed in a spent heap on the floor.