On Call Slut for the Frat Bro

This story is an original work of fiction. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Furthermore, this story is meant to be entertainment for consenting adult readers and not meant for anyone who is offended by aggressive/kinky gay sex. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal to read in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately.

Comments and suggestions are highly appreciated, and can be sent to [email protected]

PREVIOUSLY:

"You like having your limits pushed, don't you?"

I looked over at Carson. His eyes were on the road, but a tiny smile was beginning to form on his face.

"I guess so sir. I like to make you happy."

"I know," he said, satisfaction in his voice. "It's fucking hot how submissive you are for me. I'm gonna keep going further. I hope you're ready for that."

A dark feeling of fear and desire passed through me. We'd gone so far already. What lay further down this road I couldn't even imagine. But I realized I wanted to find out.

"I am, sir," I said. "I trust you."

"Good boy. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Carson looked over at me, a smug smile on his face. He reached into his sweats and pulled his big floppy cock out.

"Now why don't you give me some road head."

CHAPTER 10: Hell Week, Or Was It Heaven?

The new semester began, and despite the intensity of our weekend together, Carson and I fell back into old patterns. I saw him once or twice a week, usually just for a quick BJ or fuck in my room. Our newfound intimacy was left unsaid, which was fine with me. We had our understanding, and I was already getting so much more than I ever expected from this god of a man. To be with him in any way was a dream; I wasn't about to jeopardize that by catching feelings. And while he had said he was going to push me further, I knew that would be on his time. I was happy to wait.

Indeed, Carson was crazy busy with hockey and frat business. Pledge season at Delta had gone into high gear. Unlike other frats, Delta only had a single rush and a single pledge class each year, and they only took freshmen. As the premiere house on campus, they had the pick of the litter. Where the other frats took classes each semester, and paraded their pledges around campus in matching outfits doing mildly humiliating tasks, Delta's infamous hazing took place entirely behind closed doors. I was, of course, deeply curious about what it entailed, but figured that asking was outside the boundaries of my arrangement with Carson.

Little did I know I'd soon become intimately familiar with Delta's pledges.

We'll get to that. First, I did have one interesting encounter soon after I got back to campus.

I had an econ class Tuesday and Thursday mornings. The social sciences building was one of the older buildings on the main quad, a huge brick pile filled with lecture halls, classrooms, and faculty offices. My class was in one of the larger lecture halls on the first floor.

I'd had a huge iced coffee that day, and by the time class was over I was bursting to pee. This particular building only had restrooms on every other floor, so I rushed down to the basement level mens room. It was a smaller one, only 3 urinals and 2 stalls. I quickly grabbed a side urinal and did my business.

As I was going, the door opened and shut. From what I could hear, two dudes walked in chatting with each other.

"Bro, I'm bout to take the fattest shit," one said to the other. I heard a stall door open and close. The other guy chuckled as he stepped to the far urinal.

Suddenly, I saw in my peripheral vision that this dude had moved to the urinal next to me, violating the sacred code of men in public restrooms. What the fuck, I thought.

Then I glanced over and saw Jake Thorn standing there.

He had a grin on his face as he towered over me, dripping with smug condescension. He was wearing a North Face parka and a backwards white baseball cap, a vision of bro. I looked down ever so quickly and sure enough, he had his huge uncut monster pulled through the fly of his jeans.

In the stall, his buddy had started dropping a nasty deuce. The sounds of shitting filled the room, followed shortly by a rank smell.

"Jesus, Jonesy!" Jake said, holding eye contact with me but talking to his friend. "At least give us a courtesy flush."

A chuckle from the stall, followed by a flush.

Jake turned toward me, holding his soft but growing cock at the base and began stroking it gently. He stared into my eyes. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, and my own cock had begun to grow. All thoughts of peeing were out the table.

With his other hand, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He awkwardly typed for a moment and then silently showed it to me. An empty text was open:

"STAY HERE"

Another flush from the stall, and then the sounds of wiping and pants being pulled up. A zipper zipped. Jake put his own cock away. Then, just as we both heard the stall door opening, he casually reached behind himself and flushed the urinal at the end. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands as if he'd taken a piss.

The aforementioned Jonesy walked out of the stall and joined Jake at the sink. He was a shorter jacked dude, with a patchy beard and a mean look to his face. I pretended to be pissing but of course my cock was hard in my hand. I looked down at it to avoid any detection. Both guys washed up in gentlemanly silence and left the room. But the door didn't slam shut.

"Shit," I heard Jake mutter. "That breakfast burrito's doing a number on me. I gotta take a dump after all. I'll catch you later."

I heard the door shut and looked up. In the mirror there he was again, that evil grin still on his face.

"Get in the stall, faggot," he said.

I stuffed my cock into my jeans and walked into the end stall, dropping my book bag on the floor as I entered. The scent of Jonesy's shit lingered a little, not exactly the sexiest environment. But as soon as Jake followed me into the stall and loomed over me, all thoughts of where I was went out the window.

I had turned to face him, my back to the toilet. That rictus grin on his face, with its almost comically All-American features, became lustier. He put a hand on my shoulder and pressed gently. I found myself sitting on the toilet looking up at this frat god. He nodded at his crotch.

"Take it out."

I reached up and undid his belt and the buckle of his jeans. As I slid the zipper of his fly down, I could feel Jake's monster under the fabric, its power waiting to be unleashed. I pulled the waistband of his plaid J.Crew boxers down and fished out my prize.

Fuck, what a cock.

While to me Carson's cock was the *ne plus ultra* of dicks, just the perfect specimen, Jake's was almost too much. A little longer, a tad thicker, and covered in a glorious sheath of foreskin, something about Jake's piece radiated masculine energy in its purest form. The fact that his foreskin was always fermenting a ripe smell underneath certainly didn't hurt.

Now, Jake's cock wasn't hard but on its way, so I opened my mouth, ready for a throatfuck. But he just pulled back his hood and rested his dick on my lower lip. I remembered he hadn't actually pissed earlier, and sure enough I was soon rewarded with a strong stream of acrid Delta brother piss. I wrapped my lips around his huge head and swallowed it all down.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," Jake let out a satisfied sigh.

He must have loaded up on the coffee that morning too, because his stream went on for ages. Halfway through, he let out a loud fart while pissing down my throat. The stench rose around us. Jake scrunched up his nose at the smell but chuckled at my predicament, all the way still relieving his bladder into my mouth.

"Sorry bitch. Occupational hazard I guess, hahaha."

Finally, his manly stream trickled to an end. His dick had slowly been growing in my mouth and was now almost at full mast, so it was no surprise when I felt him begin to force it into my throat. Soon, I was getting a steady facefuck as Jake held my skull in both hands.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you at this point that I had no trouble taking his dick. Carson had effectively trained away my gag reflex, so all I had to do was let Jake thrust and time my breathing right. But the blowjob only went on for a minute or two before he pulled out.

"Turn around and drop your pants, bitch."

I stood up, careful not to step forward for fear of getting too close to this alpha's personal space, and awkwardly turned around. I pulled down my pants and underwear and let them fall to the floor. A big hand came to rest on my shoulder, and soon I was bent in half, my elbows and forearms pressed against the wall as Jake kicked my feet as wide as they could go with my pants still around my ankles. I felt his cock smack against my ass a few times.

"Conway told me you've gotten pretty good at taking dick. I heard you even took him and Matty at the same time," Jake said. I heard him hock up a loogie and soon felt a wetness running down my hole. "So this should be a breeze...."

Having heeded his instructions from last semester, I had been consistently keeping my ass clean in case I needed to bottom at a moment's notice. That said, I didn't keep myself regularly lubed up in case the captain of the lacrosse team wanted to fuck me in a public bathroom on a random Tuesday morning. So when Jake spit a few more times on his dick, I think we both knew this was about to hurt like hell.

His hands gripped my hips as he pressed in. His head popped in with only a tiny pinch of pain, but I felt every scraping inch as he slowly slid the rest of his massive cock into my ass without stopping to let me adjust. I bit my lip to keep from crying out but couldn't help but whimper at the pain. It was like sandpaper inside me as Jake's monster crept toward its target.

Finally, after a few excruciating seconds, I felt his pubes against my ass. The pain hadn't abated, but I did feel a surge of pleasure as he passed over my prostate. As soon as he reached full insertion, however, Jake began to withdraw with the same deliberate slowness. As he pulled out completely I gasped at the emptiness and sudden relief.

It wasn't to last. A quick drip of more spit and he plunged back in, this time without any of the haste or care as before. I couldn't help but moan in both pain and, yes, a bit of pleasure as Jake began pounding my ass in earnest.

I'd come to realize, in my limited encounters with him, that Jake Thorn insisted on getting the only enjoyment out of using a faggot. While Carson mostly didn't seem to care whether I derived pleasure from taking his dick, aside from as evidence of his apex studliness, Jake was a true sadist. There always had to be a cost to the honor of getting his attention.

In this case it was a rough, violent pounding with no real lube. I'd learned to handle a certain amount of pain while bottoming, that went with the territory, but this was next level. Aside from the prostate stimulation, nothing about this fuck was pleasurable for me. I couldn't even make any noise, seeing as how we were in a public restroom and could be discovered at any moment.

Sure enough, as Jake was rutting away, grunting with each thrust, the bathroom door opened and someone came in.

We froze.

Jake slowly pushed all the way into me as he clasped one hand over my mouth. I could feel his breath against my ear and heard only a whisper of his voice, soft as humanly possible.

"Not. A. Sound."

With Jake's hog buried inside me, I could feel the relief in both of us when we realized our guest was only here for a piss. If he'd needed the shitter he surely would have noticed two sets of feet pressed against each other in the end stall.

As our intruder's stream filled the urinal, Jake thrust in and out of me ever so slightly. It was the most pleasure I'd felt yet, his enormous bull cock filling me up and pushing my button, without the friction of his long strokes. I felt my cock rise.

It didn't take long for our guest to do his business. He didn't even wash his hands before we heard the bathroom door slam shut again and a pregnant silence filled the room. Jake took a moment to make sure the coast was clear, then began thrusting again in earnest.

This time, I'd had enough time to adjust--and he'd churned up enough of my ass juices--that it felt great. Jake kept a hand over my mouth, but his big lax player fingers snaked into my throat, gagging me. I found myself filled up at both ends.

It only took a few more minutes for Jake to reach his goal. His strokes grew more erratic and then with a rough grunt and a tight grip on my face, he unloaded his baby batter deep inside me. I felt him shudder against me several times as his load filled me up. It felt enormous.

Finally, he pulled out without any warning. I yelped at the suddenness, but felt his huge but deflating cock smacked against my ass a few times. I knew what I had to do, so I shuffled back around and sat on the toilet once more, taking only the quickest second to inspect Jake's dick before taking it into my mouth to clean him off. Thankfully, and despite the roughness of the fuck, there was no evidence of any shit or blood.

As I nursed his softening cock, tasting my own ass and Jake's cum, I looked up and saw him smiling at me almost gently. He reached down and ruffled my hair as you would a dog.

"Good work, faggot. You're gonna be real useful to us this semester. Real fucking useful."

With that ominous statement, he pulled his dick back into his jeans, zipped up, and left the bathroom without another word.

I sat in the silent bathroom overwhelmed. The whole thing had lasted less than 10 minutes, but the intensity and danger of it were like nothing I'd ever experienced. I was rock hard, and as I felt Jake's mammoth load begin to drip from my well-fucked hole, I couldn't quite believe this was my life now.

* * *

A few weeks later, a cold Sunday night in February, I was studying in my room when I got a text from Carson:

"Downstairs now."

I slammed my sociology textbook shut, threw on my winter coat, and practically ran down the stairs. When I got outside, I didn't see Carson's Jeep anywhere, but idling in front of the dorm was a brand new Range Rover. The passenger window rolled down, and Carson's face appeared.

"Get in, bitch," he said, nodding toward the back seat.

I climbed into the massive car and found Jake driving. It was the first time I'd seen him since he'd used and abused me in a public restroom, an experience which left me with a sore ass and a hard dick. He looked, as always, resplendent, in a Canada Goose jacket and a beanie on his head. He turned around and gave me a smirk.

"Hey faggot," he said.

"Hello sir, it's good to see you," I replied.

"I bet it is."

Jake put the car in gear and we began driving. They chatted with each other, ignoring me. I expected us to head in the direction of Delta house, but soon we were on campus, parking in a dark, empty lot behind one of the science buildings.

They both turned back to face me. It felt like something out of All the President's Men. I suppose I was in a way, to both of them, Deep Throat. The vibe in the car, however, was definitely not sexual, and I began to worry that I was about to be dumped, or threatened, or worse.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

"So," Jake began. "We wanted to talk to you about an opportunity. Normally Conway would just tell you to do what he wants and I'm sure you'd do it, but this is a bit more...involved, and we thought it best to prepare you and make sure you're cool with it before springing it on you."

"Plus we need you to actually play along," Carson added.

"Okay..." I said, intrigued but hesitant. "What can I do for you sirs?"

They both chuckled and looked at each other. It occurred to me that Carson seemed almost nervous, as though this were some sort of test of his power over me.

"Okay so here's the thing," Jake said. "We're in the middle of our pledge process for the year, and we're coming up on Hell Week, which is a cherished tradition at Delta and an important link in the bond of brotherhood we forge."

"But of course we don't engage in hazing," Carson interjected.

"No, of course not, nothing of the sort," Jake said. "Thank you, Brother Conwa,y for that explicit reminder that we *don't* engage in hazing."

They smiled at each other devilishly.

"That said," Jake continued. "We do have several time-honored...traditions and rituals that each pledge class must undergo before they can become brothers of our illustrious fraternity. But this year's pledgemaster, Brother O'Grady, is not exactly...what's the right word, little bro?"

"Creative?" Carson offered.

"Yes, precisely. He's not creative. He's a mean motherfucker, that's for sure, but so far his interpretation of our traditions has been pretty fuckin' boring."

I knew who Shane O'Grady was--I'd researched the whole frat after Carson had taken over my life. He was an enormous meathead football player, a ginger giant known for his temper and his sloppiness at parties.

"As President," Jake went on. "It's my job to make sure every brother is truly Delta material. And one way we ensure that, during Hell Week, is a longstanding tradition we maintain called the Manhood Test."

"You're a smart kid," Carson offered. "You can probably guess what that means."

"Right," Jake said. "But O'Grady's proposing a lame-ass version of it, and those of us brothers who actually give a shit about these sorts of things are pissed. So Conway and I though, maybe have a better solution."

Two sets of frat bro eyes drilled into me as they proceeded to describe what they needed me to do.

I couldn't have agreed fast enough.

* * *

The following week, a Wednesday night, Carson once again smuggled me into his hockey bag and into Delta house. This time, though, I found myself being carried downstairs and set down gently on something soft.

Carson unzipped the bag and helped me out. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw that I was in one of the "cells" in the depths of the basement. He had told me they were primarily used for housing the pledges during Hell Week--hence the dirty mattresses on the floors. I looked down the tight hallway and saw that the rest of the cells were clearly being lived in at the moment, clothes and books strewn about, though no one was down here now besides the two of us.

I was in the last of the cells, deepest into the basement, and it had been cleared of everything except a twin mattress shoved against the wall adjoining the next room. The mattress had some pillows on it. A small black curtain hung on the wall at waist height. A grocery bag full of stuff sat next to it.

"You know the drill?" Carson asked. "Don't speak. Don't mix up the cards. If anyone tries to look in, hide and let me know. And if anyone gives you trouble, text me ASAP. Or just, you know..." He clicked his teeth together like chomping.

"I know what to do, sir." I said. "Thanks."

He favored me with a smile. It almost looked like he was proud.

"I'm gonna lock the door now. I'll let you out when it's over. Oh, and faggot?"

"Yes sir?"

Carson winked at me as he pulled the door closed. "Enjoy." I heard the lock click.

I set down my backpack. They'd told me there might be some downtime, so I brought some of my schoolwork, but I was buzzing with anticipation and a little fear at the events to come. I tried to read, I tried checking Instagram, but I couldn't focus.

I looked through the bag of supplies they'd left me: a box of pens, a cloth tape measure from IKEA, a packet of wet wipes, a travel bottle of mouthwash, and a bottle of water. I wondered for a moment where I was supposed to spit out the mouthwash when I saw there was a drain in the corner. Delta house basement: the height of luxury.

Finally, after what felt like forever, but was probably 15 minutes at most, I heard many sets of feet begin trudging down the stairs. It took a while before silence returned. Then I heard a deep Boston accent booming out from the main room.

"All right you sorry motherfuckers." O'Grady (I presumed) began. "Did you enjoy that cold shower?"

In unison, many manly voices shouted back, "SIR YES SIR!"

"Good," O'Grady continued. "You should be grateful we wasted water on you pathetic excuses for pledges. Now, it's time for tonight's test. This is one of the most cherished traditions at Delta. That's right, maggots, it's the Manhood Test."

Even through the walls I could sense unease among the pledges.

"You see, a Delta man is not just a gentleman, a scholar, an athlete, and an all around fucking Renaissance man. No, a Delta man is a MAN. And a MAN comes equipped with a MANHOOD that lives up to the Delta name. So it's time to test that manhood and make sure you pieces of shit..."

He paused with a flourish.

“...measure up."

O'Grady may not have been the most creative of taskmasters, but he clearly knew how to strike fear in his charges.

"So here's how it's gonna work. None of the brothers want to touch your sad little peepees, and we can't trust you pussies to be truthful, so we've got a little outside help. We've converted the last 2 of your cells into a good old-fashioned gloryhole. One one side, we have a friend of the frat, a true slut who absolutely *loves* dick. One at a time, you're gonna go back there with your pledge card, pass it through the hole, get your dick hard, and stick it through for her to measure. For each inch of meat you've got, you get one demerit taken off your record. Pledge number 1, you're at the top of the heap, how many demerits do you currently have?"

"20, sir!" A confident voice called out.

"Not great, but it could be worse," O'Grady rumbled. "Pledge number 15, how many demerits do you have?"

"55, sir!" A third voice, deep but more subdued, replied.

"Fifty-fucking-five demerits. Truly pathetic, pledge 15. Now you all know that at the end of each day this week, any pledge with over 50 demerits gets cut. You saw what happened to pledges 16 and 17 yesterday. So several of you, especially you, 15, better hope your willies aren't too tiny. However..."

He gave a long pause, building suspense. I'm sure the pledges were squirming.

But I knew what was coming.

You didn't think I was just gonna be measuring dicks, did you?

"Since I am feeling generous," O'Grady continued. "I'm going to sweeten the pot and give you losers the opportunity to earn, let's call them, bonus points, in addition to your pathetic few inches, if you perform well. You see, our slut back there, she doesn't just love dick. She loves sucking dick. And more than that, she loves sucking loads right out of a hard Delta dick. Now I'm a modern man. I believe in consent. I'm not gonna make you get your dick sucked by a stranger, talented though she may be. I would *never* force you to get an A+ slopjob from one of the biggest sluts on campus. But if you do feed her your cock, and you're able to nut in the five minutes you each get, I'll take a bonus demerit from your total. Oh, but wait there's more! Our gloryhole slut back there, because she's such a connoisseur of cock and cum, will even be able to give *another* bonus deduction if she thinks you performed exceptionally well. What that means is totally up to her, but I imagine if you can shoot a particularly big load, or if you're really good at fucking her face, or if your dirty talk is particularly poetic, you may make her happy and get that extra point. But that's up to her. You fuckers understand?

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Good. Since you've all been forbidden from jerking your little pricks all week, it shouldn't be such a chore for any of you to bust your load. I'd say that's a pretty easy test, don't you, Brother Thorn? Any last words for our pledges?"

"Thank you, Brother O'Grady," Jake's voice boomed throughout the basement. "Only one thing to add: any pledge that can't get it up long enough to be measured in his allotted 5 minutes will get an extra 10 demerits *added* to his total. For some of you, that's a death sentence. So if you really want to be a Delta, you'd better fucking rise to the occasion."

"Well said, Brother Thorn!" O'Grady laughed. "All right cunts, here's how it's gonna work. We're gonna go in order, starting with pledge number one. You each get five minutes back there. Knock on the wall or let her know you're there. The slut will start the timer when you slide your pledge card through the hole. After 5 minutes, or after you nut, whichever comes first, you're done and you come back here. You can tell her what to do, whether to suck you, how to suck you, what you like, and she'll do it, whatever you want. Your pledge brothers out here will be able to hear you, but don't let that give you stage fright. Support each other. The bonds of brotherhood are strong."

"Indeed," Jake's voice boomed out again. "They are. I hope you take this seriously, but also enjoy the relief we're providing to you. One last warning before we leave you to it. If anyone tries to peek through the hole, or get her to talk to you, or anything else that might compromise our friend back there, not only will you be cut immediately, we will beat the absolute living shit out of you, understood?"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Good," O'Grady said. "Get to it. We'll see you afterwards for today's judgment."

I heard Jake and O'Grady climb the stairs, and a few seconds of silence passed, before the pledges started talking to each other frantically.

"Fucking hell!"

"A gloryhole, what the fuck."

"I don't know about you guys, but I could probably nut from a dry handjob at this point."

"Same."

"Me too bro!"

"Yeah but still, letting some stranger suck my dick?"

"It's weird for sure."

I couldn't hear everything they were saying as they talked over each other, but it was clear that some were much more nervous than others. Finally, one voice seemed to dominate the conversation.

"Dudes, dudes, dudes. You heard what O'Grady said. We're brothers. We gotta support each other. So I say we each go in there, show this bitch what real men we are, and show the brothers that our pledge class is the biggest bunch of studs to ever hit Delta!"

"Fuck yeah!"

They all cheered in agreement. The tension, though still very much present, seemed to have been alleviated a bit.

"Well boys," a different voice called out. "Time to get my knob polished. Apologies in advance for drowning the cocksucker before any of you had the chance to use her."

The other pledges laughed at pledge number 1's joke. I heard footsteps approaching, so I got on my knees in front of the hole.

"Hey sexy," the voice said. "I'm here to feed you some grade-A meat."

I slid the curtain open, taking care to position myself to the side so he wouldn't catch a glimpse of me. I was being overly cautious; the lights were low in both rooms. The hole was just big enough to fit your dick and balls through. The guys had done a good job lining it with layers of duct tape to pad the edges.

An index card came falling through the hole. It was quickly followed by a semi-hard pink dick and a nice set of low-hanging balls.

"Why don't you get me nice and hard before you measure, baby?" Pledge 1 clearly had a way with words.

I hit start on my phone's timer, and brought my lips to his head. I engulfed it and began to lightly bob on his cock. I was gifted with a low groan from the next room. It wasn't long before he was lengthening in my mouth, and within 30 seconds my charge was hard as a rock. I gave him a few long strokes all the way up and down to make sure he was at peak hardness, then took out the tape measure and spread it from base to tip.

It was a decent dick, just under 7 inches, fairly thick. Carson had told me to round to the nearest half inch, so I wrote a 7 on the index card, which already had #1 written on it in and circled in red Sharpie. I also took a few notes: cut, big mushroom head, lots of precum. They didn't ask me to do that but I thought it might be worth noting for the house archives. Or just my own spank bank.

Three and a half minutes remained. I turned my attention back to the matter at hand (or rather mouth), and began to give pledge 1 the works: sloppy, deepthroat, lots of suction.

"Oh my god," he muttered. Not 30 seconds later, I was rewarded for my efforts with a thick, creamy load in my mouth accompanied by a whispered "fuck fuck fuck fuck" through gritted teeth on the other side of the wall.

"Thanks, I needed that," he said as he pulled his dick back through. I caught a glimpse of a lean, sexy body.

I wrote "came" and added a +1 to pledge 1's score, for a total of 8. I considered giving him my bonus point, but decided his load was probably just average. When he got back to the other room, the returning victor sang my praises to his pledge brothers.

"Dudes, they were NOT kidding. That bitch can suck a mean dick!"

The other guys let up a cheer, and I heard a voice say "my turn!" as another set of footsteps came in my direction.

I won't bore you with the details of every single dick. Most were perfectly average, which is to say delicious but not worth writing home about. Pledge 2, for example, had a thick but stubby six-incher that blasted my throat in under a minute. He said "suck it" when he stuck his already-hard dick through, and a quick "thanks" afterward, and that was that. Pledge 3 was similar, with a slightly thinner, slightly longer piece that produced a big watery load, and not a word exchanged between us.

I began to worry that this wouldn't be as exciting as I'd thought. Don't get me wrong--sucking 15 dicks in one evening was a true fantasy. But had I already swung from all the truly studly poles in Delta?

Pledge 4 disabused me of that notion right quick.

I heard his voice before anything else happened. It was deep and velvety, with a hint of an accent I couldn't place. I was immediately turned on.

"Hey sexy girl, you ready for a real man? You must be tired of those little white boy dicks."

He pushed his card through the hole, and then what followed put a smile on my face: a thick, cut, brown dick, hanging floppy and full over a set of some of the biggest balls I'd ever seen. He was a shower, and also, I hoped, a grower.

"Why don't you suck on those balls a bit first to get me going? Got a big load stored up for you, baby."

The timer started. I took one then the other nut in my mouth, his big cock resting on my face. I gave them a nice tongue bath for a few seconds, swirling them in my mouth. I felt his dick begin to fill out, so I released his balls and slowly swallowed his dick whole. I went all the way down, deciding I wanted to see if I could feel it fill my throat. I used my tongue and throat muscles to stimulate his head and shaft, a growled "fuck!" on the other side of the wall confirming that my methods were working. In short order I found my throat stuffed with a thick, hard cock.

I gave him a few long strokes, all the way from the top to the bottom, burying my face in his crotch and giving his balls a little lick when he was deep in my throat. Yes, I was showing off. The appreciative groaning on the other side of the wall continued.

I glanced at the timer. Shit! Two minutes down already. I quickly measured his dick, coming in at just a hair over 8 inches, before getting straight back to the sloppiest, deepest BJ I could give.

"Oh fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good. You like that big Arab cock? You gonna let me fuck that mouth?"

In answer, I pushed myself all the way down on him, so my mouth was basically right at the hole, and held there. He took the hint, and began long-dicking my mouth, a steady, workmanlike throatfuck that felt awesome. I stroked my own hard dick quietly. As he pulled out, I licked his big head, enjoying a healthy amount of salty precum.

I noted, in my mind if not on the index card, that he was Arab, another first for me. Seems those Middle Eastern dudes were packing. I grabbed my phone and snuck a glance at the timer, and realized with some disappointment that we only had about 30 seconds left. I could tell my facefucker was getting close, so I made an executive decision, hit pause with 10 seconds left, and let him go to town.

Pledge 4 knew how to throw down a great fuck. My throat was taking a beating, drool running down my chin. I prayed that someday I'd be able to get this big cock in my ass.

Soon, he was mumbling to himself in a language I didn't recognize but assumed was Arabic, his orgasm obviously approaching. I felt him start to thrust faster but less deep, focused on his head in my mouth.

"You gonna take my cum in your mouth, baby?" he moaned, just before blasting my mouth with rope after rope of salty nut and letting out a huge groan. I heard cheering from the other room. It was so much cum it began to leak out the sides of my mouth--I couldn't swallow fast enough. As he finished, he slid all the way into my throat and shuddered there for a second. I waited until he was done, and slowly withdrew. His dick was glistening with cum, and I hungrily cleaned it off. After he pulled out of the gloryhole, I heard his voice closer to the hole than before, low and satisfied.

"That was fucking brilliant, baby. You ever wanna give me that mouth again you look up Hassan here at Delta. I'll show you a real good time."

If only you knew, I thought, but made a quick note of his name in my phone. I wrote down his size and gave him a +2 for the giant nut and the throatfuck. I would have given Hassan more if I could: he was a true stud.

I should mention that Carson had promised to let me know who each dick belonged to at a later date. At least the ones who made it through Hell Week and became brothers. But it was still hot to already have a clue.

Pledges 5 through 7 were nothing special, average white dicks, but certainly appreciated. 5 and 7 each gave me a nice load, but 6 was nowhere near cumming when the timer went off.

Then pledge 8 stuck his dong through the gloryhole. And I gasped.

It was completely flaccid. It was fairly thin. But it was the longest soft cock I'd ever seen in my life. And it was hanging over some of the lowest-hanging balls I'd ever encountered, too.

Out of curiosity, I quickly measured it soft. Almost 8 inches! Excited, I took the head in my mouth and began sucking, fondling his balls in one hand.

Nothing happened.

I pulled out all the stops, slobbering, varying pressure, sucking on his balls. He began to fill out a little, going from totally soft to floppy, but not nearly hard. I began to worry for this guy. If he couldn't get it up I couldn't give him credit for his size.

He pulled back and I could see him jerking himself. I put my mouth right up to the hole and stuck out my tongue. He got the message and began to smack his dick on my mouth, growing with each successive SMACK. Finally, he reached what I guess he considered a full hard-on, and pushed it through for me to measure.

I pulled the tape measure along his extraordinary length. 10.5 inches, on the dot! Certainly the longest dick I'd ever seen in the flesh. After I measured him, I quickly dove back down, excited for the challenge of fitting this whole thing in my throat.

I got nearly there, but then his head hit the back of my throat. There was probably less than an inch remaining, and I was determined. I took a breath in through my nose, tried to relax, and felt his cockhead pass through my inner hole. As soon as I felt my lips hit his pubes, the timer went off.

I pulled off and stifled a few coughs. He pulled back through the hole, and then I heard him speak for the first time.

"Daaaaaaamn girl," he said, a skater-boy vocal fry coloring his voice. "No chick's ever gotten the whole pipe down before. Sure wish we had some more time together!"

I wished I could have told him that a chick *still* hadn't. And I wished I could have sat on his dick. I bet it would have hit my prostate good.

The next pledge, number 9, had the smallest dick so far, barely 5 inches, but his orgasm, not a minute into the blowjob, lasted more spurts than I could count. I gave him a +2 for the strength of it.

Pledge 10 was a dark-skinned black guy with a nice thick 7-incher. Unfortunately, he chose to work himself up, spitting on his own dick and jerking himself to a hard-on. When he stuck his dick through, he muttered a low "no mouth." I took the hint and just measured him. As soon as I removed the tape measure he pulled back out, and even in the low light I could see him beating his own meat feverishly. A couple of minutes passed, and then he grunted "mouth open, slut!" I quickly put my mouth to the hole with my tongue out, just in time to catch his chunky load.

It tasted great, but I wasn't sure whether that met the criteria for a bonus point, since he didn't actually get blown. I made a note on the card.

Pledge 11 was my first uncut cock of the night, another brown dick of indeterminate ethnicity. It wasn't anything to write home about when soft, but grew in my mouth to a respectable 7.5 inches. I loved the taste of his cockhead under his foreskin, but it quickly became clear, explicitly so, that it was my throat he was after.

"Fuck yeah, dirty fucking slut sucking off all the frat bros. Take daddy's dick down your throat you cumwhore!"

I recognized the voice. It was the pledge that had given the pump-up speech before the test began. He was fucking my face so urgently I could feel his hips slamming against the wall, nearly knocking me back. Did they install handles on the wall? Soon enough, he was blasting his baby batter down my gullet.

"Take. Daddy's. Load. You. Fucking. Slut!" he grunted as he came, a nice big watery load that slid down easy. When he returned to the other room the guys all gave him shit for calling himself daddy, but I liked it. +2.

Neither pledge 12 nor 14 was able to nut in time, and pledge 13 got there just under the wire. All were decent white dicks, between 6 and 7 inches. None of them were particularly vocal. All the guys who couldn't nut got ribbed by the other pledge brothers when they returned to the main room, presumably still boned. I couldn't imagine having to spend the whole week not jerking off and then only getting half a BJ.

Finally, I reached my last customer.

Now, I should be clear. I didn't know these guys from Adam. They all thought I was a chick. They were a bunch of douchebag (aspiring) frat bros who otherwise wouldn't have given me the time of day. But listening to them banter while I blew them, I'd developed a certain liking. They were clearly buddies, for the most part, cheering on particularly loud orgasms and gently making fun of the noble failures. So knowing that my last guy had the best chance of being cut from the frat, I was a little worried. I didn't want a guy to lose his chance at being a Delta just because his dick was little or he couldn't get it up.

I shouldn't have worried.

The dick that greeted me was perfect.

Uncut.

Thick.

Long (9 inches, per my measurement).

And already rock hard.

I didn't even bother starting the timer. My tongue was under his foreskin in no time. I heard a soft, satisfied groan from the other side of the wall and went to town.

I may have sucked 13 dicks already, but I still took to pledge 15 like a drowning man to a lifeboat. I used every trick I knew. I slurped and licked, sucked and swirled. I used my hands to jerk him while I sucked his head. I impaled myself deep, over and over and over, fucking my own face onto this godlike cock. DrooI dripped down my chin onto my own rock hard dick. I was definitely sucking for longer than 5 minutes, but eventually I felt his big hairy balls begin to draw up. A deep voice grunted an authoritative "swallow" just as a torrent of cum filled my throat.

It was delicious. And something about this pledge was so familiar to me, but I couldn't place it.

When he was done, he pulled out and left, without a word. Suddenly, after an hour and a half of nonstop dicks, I was alone. I heard the guys in the other room chanting some Delta chant. Then I heard O'Grady's voice booming again.

"Well, well, well. Look at these pathetic pledges. You think you get your little dicks wet and suddenly you're kings of the castle, huh? Get your asses upstairs! There's cleaning to do!"

I heard the pledges head back upstairs. I had texted Carson I was done, but he hadn't responded. I waited, unsure what to do, and incredibly horny. I'd been quietly jerking myself basically the whole time, never all the way to the edge, but pretty close. My dick was dying to burst, but I doubted that was something I should do here.

My phone buzzed just as I heard a set of footsteps walking my way. The text was from Carson.

"Do as O'Grady says."

I'd just read the text when I heard that same Masshole accent booming from the other side of the wall.

"Thanks for the help tonight, faggot. Now lemme get in that mouth. I'm not interested in a beej from some queer, but Conway and Thorn told me they made your mouth into a toilet and that's just so fucking gross I GOTTA try it!"

I saw him pull his sweatpants down and then a big floppy dick and balls came through the hole. O'Grady would have had no problem during the Manhood Test. And apparently the carpet does match the drapes, because he was sporting a full crimson bush.

His firecrotch smelled like sweat and beer. I took his dickhead into my mouth and waited.

And waited.

"I hope you're thirsty, queer," he eventually said. "Because I'm about 15 beers deep!"

With that, the downpour began. Piss sprayed out of his cock at lightning speed. I nearly choked, but only a little came out of the sides of my mouth before I was able to begin gulping down O'Grady's recycled offering. Beer piss, I'd learned in my months of servicing Carson and friends, was actually pretty flavorless. But there sure was a lot of it.

"Damn. I could get used to this," O'Grady said with a satisfied sigh.

I gulped and gulped. He hadn't been kidding: this was a lot, easily the most I'd ever drank in one go. But he was a bear of a man so it wasn't surprising.

Finally the stream ended. I suckled on his cock for a moment, hoping I'd get another kind of load, but O'Grady pulled out and shook the last remaining droplets onto me through the hole.

"You wish, bitch!" he laughed as he stomped off.

Once more I was left alone in the cell. I texted Carson again, letting him know O'Grady had left satisfied. He arrived a few minutes later, hockey bag in hand.

"Have fun?" he said, smirking.

"Yes sir!" I replied.

I handed him the index cards and he shoved them into his pocket. I stayed on my knees, hoping he'd want his own turn, but he just laughed, shook his head, and motioned to the bag.

"I think you've had enough for one night, pig."

Carson smuggled me back out of the house and back to my dorm. When I got to my room, I immediately stripped down and jerked myself at the thought of the night's events. I'd swallowed 12 loads, had my mouth around 15 different dicks, and drank about a gallon of piss to boot. I came quickly, shooting so hard I hit my face.

I fucking loved Delta house.

TO BE CONTINUED...

UP NEXT: Teddy gets to know a few of the pledges...for better or worse...