Author's Note: At last, the first phase of rush ending with the third and final challenge. But there's always more behind the scenes at Phi Delta Mu...
Enjoy! Please share any comments and feedback below or email [email protected].
Wet 'n Wild
Carter had already heard about the trespassing freshmen by the time Duncan came looking for him upstairs.
The frat president stood alone in the board's private lounge with one hand against the leather couch.
His phone buzzed again. It was a fourth text from Jason, his vice president who lived on the top floor, writing in a panic.
"Found two freshies on the 3rd floor."
"In the green room."
"The guy with the cast and the other guy who won last night."
"Not my fault dude."
Carter locked his phone and threw it onto the table, irritated.
The muffled roar of freshmen and frat brothers rose from downstairs, congratulating Hunter Whitaker and Derek Collins for winning the second challenge. Carter was unsurprised. He knew who would win before it even started. He'd made sure of it.
He looked outside. Beyond the window, the back lawn sloped toward the hedges. Behind the hedges, the Pacific glittered beneath the late-morning sun.
The final challenge would happen tonight.
The door opened without a knock.
Duncan, the frat house dad, paused in the doorway.
“Jason texted me,” Carter said unprompted.
“So you know what happened.”
“I know those freshmen went upstairs... Mercer and Ramirez. Jason found them in the Green Room, and he’s already covering his ass.”
Duncan stepped inside and shut the door. Sunlight caught in the blond hair on his forearms.
"He was supposed to clean it and lock it until next week," Carter said, turning from the window.
"Fucking careless," Duncan said.
Duncan walked to the table and looked down at the list of pledges.
“Did they see too much?” Carter asked.
Duncan looked up and reflected for a moment.
"Those two? I think so."
Carter’s jaw tightened.
“Then they’re out,” Carter said.
Duncan said nothing.
“They’re out," he repeated.
“Are they?”
“They went somewhere they weren’t supposed to go. They saw the fuckin' Green Room, Duncan,” Carter said.
Duncan moved to one of the leather chairs but didn’t sit. He rested his hand on the back of it, fingers loose against the worn brown hide.
He thought hard and spoke slowly.
“Look... You cut these guys now, and they're going to leave here full of theories,” Duncan said. “They'll start asking questions... Telling people.”
Carter stared at him.
“So bring them in,” Duncan continued. “Get them in deep -- too deep to want to snitch about anything.”
Another wave of laughter came from downstairs. Carter waited for the noise to settle before speaking in a low voice.
“You want to keep them?”
“Think about it."
Carter looked at the dark TV screen and caught his own reflection: neat blond hair, green polo unwrinkled, rigid posture. Authoritative.
Behind his reflection, Duncan watched him.
“They're nobodies," Carter said. "No money, no legacy, no team.”
“Carter... Outsiders talk.” Duncan’s voice stayed even. “If they're in, they'll know that keeping quiet protects them too.”
There it was. The old logic. A freshman outside the circle was a risk. A freshman inside the circle was leverage.
Still, these new guys would complicate things.
They'd fuck up Carter's plans for Hunter.
The dock at sunset flashed in Carter's memory again. It was last year -- with Hunter about to graduate from high school and Carter visiting home from college. Hunter’s bare shoulder resting against his. Hunter’s mouth leaning close to his ear, whispering: "I'm tired of being your secret, Carter. I can't do it anymore."
Carter blinked once.
The lounge returned.
“Listen, Duncan. We only have room for three. You know that. And Derek and Hunter are basically locked,” Carter said.
"Are they?"
"Everyone's rallying around Derek -- he's fun, strong, he'll be good at the intramurals. And Hunter's good for us. He's well-connected and the alumni will love him." Carter steadied his voice. "We do not have room for two randos..."
Duncan didn’t answer immediately.
Carter walked to the window again. Hunter was there now, standing on the lawn, talking to some classmates. His linen shirt was open at the throat. His reddish-brown hair caught the light in the familiar way that he always seemed sunlit even in the shade.
Carter would have to talk to him. But not now, not in front of everyone else.
Carter turned from the window.
“All right, maybe we take just one of the snoopy freshmen... Maybe," Carter emphasized. "Depends how they do tonight and how the other brothers feel."
Duncan stood, apparently satisfied for now.
"No promises though," Carter added.
Carter sat down, picked up the remote, and turned the widescreen TV back on. The pledge chart from his laptop filled the screen, with everyone's headshots sorted.
Hunter and Derek appeared first under the "Strong" column among ten other men.
Benjy Ramirez looked scrawny near the top of the "Maybe" column, right next to Will Mercer’s shy little picture, blue-eyed and soft.
Carter stared at them.
“Is the equipment set up?” he asked Duncan, changing the subject. “For The Runoff next week?"
Duncan’s voice came dry and professional. "Same spots as usual.”
“Good.”
Duncan moved toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped with one hand on the knob.
“Carter.”
“What?”
“You're probably gonna learn, like every other president before you, that you might not get to make all your own decisions.”
Then Duncan stepped into the hallway, letting in the noise from below.
For a moment, Carter remained alone in the lounge with his chin in his hand.
Downstairs, the pledge chairs shouted for everyone to head outside for a barbecue lunch. The house thundered beneath Carter's feet, as thirty freshmen were shepherded toward the lawn.
After a beat, Carter stood up -- huffing in annoyance -- and walked over to his laptop. One after the other, he moved Benjy Ramirez and Will Mercer from the "Maybe" column to the bottom of the "Strong" column, underneath a dozen other contenders.
Then he unlocked his phone. He reopened Jason’s panicky texts.
And he deleted the entire thread.
Will and his new friend Benjy stood in the corner of the frat house's living room. The back doors were wide open, and the smell of charcoal and grilled burgers rolled inside.
Will tried not to think about the sinister room they'd discovered upstairs.
The glossy green tile.
The square platform.
The giant showerhead.
The chains.
All of it seemed to lead to Duncan. That old photo in the trophy case swam up in Will's memory: Duncan’s youthful self in that same room, toned and wet, clutching a few other men who were shirtless on their knees.
Duncan surely knew what Will and Benjy had seen. Will dreaded running into him again. But he decided to go with the flow.
Will followed Benjy and the rest of the crowd onto the back lawn. The lawn was wider than he'd expected, sloping gently downward and ringed by hedges.
A large banner read: SPRING RUSH 2010.
It was idyllic. There was more food spread across the tables than Will could afford in a month.
Will imagined winning the single room available in the house at the end of the process -- opening its windows each morning onto this view and watching sunlight spread across the Pacific. First, the three new brothers would be chosen. Then, somehow, those three would have to compete for the room. Still, Will was closer than he'd ever expected to get.
Out on the lawn, dozens of frat brothers and pledges stood in loose clusters, laughing with red cups in hand. A few guys had taken off their shirts, and Will tried hard not to stare at those who had.
Derek Collins stood near the grill in a muscle tee, taller than almost everyone around him. His thick arms gleamed in the sun. He was already eating a burger, looking satisfied.
When Derek spotted them, his face lit up.
“Hey-hey! Boner Boy!” he called out, winking. “Guess we caught up with you on the leaderboard.”
"Please don’t make that name stick," Will groaned, while Benjy chuckled.
“No promises.” Derek smiled, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him rock on his heels.
Will should have hated that Derek remembered his humiliation yesterday. Instead, he appreciated it.
Derek remembered him. Derek was smiling at him.
Derek’s hand was still clutching his shoulder, broad and heavy and friendly.
“Congrats on the clue hunt, by the way,” Benjy said, pushing his glasses up with his thumb. “You and Hunter destroyed everyone.”
“Yeah,” Will added. “Record time.”
“Yeah, well. Hunter was ahead of the curve somehow." Then Derek’s grin turned slightly sheepish. "Plus, I had a little advantage, knowing about the frat's history.”
Derek glanced around, then leaned in a little.
“My dad tells stories.” Derek took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “He was Phi-D-M. Back in the eighties.”
Will felt the back of his neck prickle.
“Your dad?” Will repeated.
Derek nodded.
The old photograph flashed in Will's mind again. Five shirtless, wet young men in the green-tiled room.
Duncan holding a paddle over his cock.
Will realized there must have been generations of other men who now had sons old enough to rush.
Will felt desperate to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
“So that third clue," Will said, "'Seek the lion's roar where eagles soar' or something. What was it actually?”
“Oh, man." Derek laughed. "It was the flagpole on the roof.”
“The what?”
“On the roof. There’s an old flag, and at the top of the pole is a lion head. I had to climb a ladder outside and grab a little tag tied up there.”
Derek opened his mouth as if to say more.
Then his gaze shifted past Will’s shoulder.
He paused, and the change in him was immediate.
His grin disappeared. Not dramatically. But Will saw the way Derek’s jaw tightened and his brow furrowed.
Will turned.
It was Duncan, crossing the lawn and fist-bumping some of the brothers. He wore dark aviator sunglasses, and his sandy hair framed his beaming face.
Derek frowned.
“Uh, you okay?” Will asked Derek.
Derek looked down at Will, took a sharp breath and forced a little laugh. “Mm, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Before the silence could thicken, a deep voice called from behind them.
“Well, well. It's the horny freshman.”
Will turned.
Three upperclassmen were approaching. One was shirtless, with green paint from yesterday still faintly smudged across his smooth chest.
Will recognized none of them.
Unfortunately, they seemed to recognize him.
“Mercer, right?” the shirtless one said.
Will swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Big winner yesterday... Huge.”
“Co-winner,” Benjy said, lifting his cast.
Another brother wearing sunglasses looked at Benjy’s cast and grinned. “Right. The secret weapon.”
The shirtless brother pointed his thumb at Will. "This guy's got another secret weapon too," he said, looking down at Will's crotch, smirking.
Will felt heat rush to his face.
“Gotta say, Mercer,” the shirtless brother said. “Didn’t expect you to have that much, uh, spirit.”
The three upperclassmen moved in closer, close enough that Will felt the edge of a picnic table press against the back of his thighs.
"You fuck around a lot?" the shirtless brother added.
Derek stepped forward slightly, but the brother in sunglasses lifted a hand.
“Relax, Collins. We’re congratulating the guy.”
“Yeah,” said the shirtless one, flicking Will's nipple through his T-shirt. “We like a little enthusiasm.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing advice. “Don’t worry, freshie. Happens to the best of us.”
He grabbed the front of his shorts and shook his bulge.
Then another voice cut through the little circle.
“All right, enough.”
Will turned to the voice.
It was Carter Grace, walking toward them.
Will recognized Carter, the frat's president, from his photo on the wall: clean-cut, blond, square-jawed. Perfectly arranged.
The shirtless brother grinned, scratching the back of his head. “We're just welcoming them.”
“Sure," Carter said. "Go welcome the cooler. It’s running low.”
The three boys drifted away, still laughing.
Derek took the opening too, joining another friend who'd called him over.
“Catch you guys later,” he said.
Suddenly, Will and Benjy were alone with the president of Phi Delta Mu.
Carter’s eyes moved from Benjy to Will.
“Will Mercer?” he said.
“Yeah,” Will said. “Yes. Hi.”
Carter smiled faintly.
“And Benjy Ramirez... Two big winners. Pretty good weekend for you two.”
"Just tried our best," Benjy said.
"Mm, I'm sure you did..." Carter said. "It's the first time we had co-winners for the first challenge."
Carter watched them both for a moment longer, then looked out across the lawn.
"Let me tell you guys a little secret," he said. "You know, the challenges aren't really about winning. They're about seeing who's fun. Who can hang. Who fits in..."
Carter leaned in closer.
“And listen, Phi-D-M is an old house. Just so you know,” Carter said. “Sometimes old houses might have... weird traditions... Weird rooms...”
Will said nothing, but he felt the lawn shift beneath his feet.
So, Carter knew what they saw too.
Fuck.
Carter’s face warmed suddenly, just enough to become public again.
"It's all part of the fun."
Then a voice approached.
“Hey, Carter.”
It was Hunter Whitaker, walking toward them.
Hunter’s fancy linen shirt was open at his chest, his sleeves rolled neatly, his wavy hair catching copper at the edges.
Carter stopped, and his shoulders tightened.
“Hunter,” Carter said simply.
“I was looking for you yesterday,” Hunter said.
“I was busy.”
“Yeah, clearly.” Hunter looked as if he wanted to say more.
Carter’s voice cooled. “Did you need something?”
Hunter’s smile faltered. Then he recovered. “Carolyn texted me this morning.”
Carter went still. That name did something to him. Will had no idea who Carolyn was, but Carter clearly did.
Hunter’s voice softened. “Can we talk?”
“Maybe later.”
Then Carter walked away immediately, back straight, leaving Hunter standing with Will and Benjy.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Hunter turned to Will and Benjy, and the charming expression came back.
“Sorry,” Hunter said. “Long story. Uh, awkward family stuff.”
“Family?” Benjy asked.
This was news.
Carter and Hunter are related?
Hunter smiled faintly and clarified.
“Our parents know each other. His sister's my best friend.”
“Oh,” Will said.
“Congrats on the win yesterday, by the way," Hunter said with a genuine smile. "Smart thinking in popping all those balloons."
“You seemed pretty quick today too,” Benjy said. "We were just telling Derek."
Hunter’s smile sharpened for half a second.
“I’m, uh, good at pretending I know what I’m doing, I guess. It’s basically my only skill.”
That surprised a laugh out of Will. Hunter glanced toward the lawn where Derek had drifted off.
“Derek carried us, honestly,” Hunter said. “He climbed that ladder like a damn firefighter.”
Up close, Will thought Hunter seemed less stuck-up and polished than yesterday, and he regretted his earlier judgment. Hunter was pleasant and disarming. There were faint freckles across his nose, and one of his carefully rolled sleeves had started to come undone.
Hunter turned to Will, his expression unexpectedly warm.
“And you handled the whole… uh, aftermath pretty well yesterday.”
Will’s face heated. “You mean the part where fifty people stared at my dick?”
Hunter laughed.
“I mean the part where people tried to embarrass you because of a hard-on and you didn’t run out.”
Will looked down at the grass. Hunter took a sip from his cup then smiled, but not mockingly.
Hunter nodded toward the food tables.
“You guys eat yet?”
“Not really,” Benjy said.
“C'mon. The burgers are pretty good, and there’s chicken behind the grill.”
Hunter started toward the tables, then looked back to make sure they were following.
For a few minutes, walking beside Hunter, Will understood.
He understood why people seemed to like Hunter Whitaker after all.
It seemed Hunter could make anyone feel welcome, even when he was a newbie himself.
Soon after, the pledge chairs Marcus and Ethan climbed onto one of the picnic tables across the lawn. They cupped their hands around their mouths for an announcement.
“Yo freshmen, listen up!” Marcus shouted. “Lunch is over in five!"
Ethan chimed in: "Get your beautiful asses back here at 7:00 for the fiiiinal chaaallenge!" he said, drawing out the final syllables.
A crowd of frat brothers cheered.
"And be ready to get fuckin' wet!"
Will and Benjy returned to the Phi Delta Mu house just before sunset. The sky was darkening, the backyard glowed orange, and a soft, salty wind swept over them as they assessed the final challenge.
Stretched across the lawn -- about a hundred feet long -- was an enormous, wet, plastic tarp.
It looked like a monstrous Slip 'n Slide. The frat brothers had divided the sheet into six long lanes and sprayed each one with a hose until the surface shone.
But that wasn't all.
Behind the starting line were several clear tubs filled with some substance -- pale, thick, and glossy.
Will stopped. Benjy stopped beside him.
“Is that…” Benjy began.
A shirtless brother seized one of the tubs and tipped it over the nearest lane.
The heavy, white mess struck the plastic with a wet slap. It spread outward in a shining white wave, folding over itself in creamy ridges.
Another brother dumped a second tub, then a third.
One of the frat brothers yelled, “Holy shit, it looks like a giant just busted a nut over the lawn!”
The upperclassmen erupted in laughter.
"Come get your protein!" another shouted, causing more howling.
Now that someone else had said it aloud, Will couldn’t stop seeing it.
The tubs looked like they contained gallons of thick, white cum.
Each new tub landed with another wet splatter.
“Hope you boys are ready to get glazed,” said a large frat brother walking past Will with a grin.
On the terrace overlooking the yard, Duncan stood with his arms folded. He wore a fitted T-shirt and shorts. Carter watched nearby with a clipboard beneath one arm. Will tried not to look at either of them.
With the tarp now fully coated, the remaining pledges were divided into six teams of five.
Will heard Marcus call out his name first.
“Mercer, lane three.”
Then Benjy’s.
“Ramirez, lane three.”
Then Hunter's.
“Whitaker, lane three.”
Hunter crossed the lawn toward them with his usual easy smile.
Two other freshmen were assigned to their team: a skinny athlete and a nervous blond boy, but Will missed their names amid the noise.
Next to Will, in lane four, Derek towered over his own group, looking delighted, wearing green gym shorts and his sweat-soaked muscle tee.
Marcus, the pledge chair, paced along the starting line with a megaphone, while rows of frat brothers stood on both sides of the tarp.
“Class of 2013!” His amplified voice came out metallic and distorted. "Welcome to your final rush challenge!"
All the upperclassmen cheered.
"Are you ready to fight??"
All the freshmen cheered.
Marcus pointed toward the far ends of the lanes, where laundry baskets were filled with a handful of small plush lions.
“Rules are simple. One runner at a time. Slide to the far end. Grab a lion with your mouth -- no hands. Then you slide back.”
“Pass it to your next runner, mouth to mouth, so he can drop it in your bank,” Marcus continued, pointing at the empty baskets on the starting line. “Once that's done, the next runner goes and repeats. First team to collect five wins.”
Will looked down at the wide expanse before him.
The white substance lay across the plastic in thick, creamy swaths, already turning translucent where the water thinned it.
A sweet smell now saturated the yard. Vanilla pudding? Maybe mixed with something else.
"This is fuckin' nasty," a freshman said incredulously from the crowd.
"This guy wants real cum instead," a frat brother retorted quickly. That elicited more jeering from the terrace.
Benjy held his cast close to his chest.
“Of course the final challenge is a cum slide,” he muttered.
Marcus lifted the megaphone again.
“One last thing," Marcus said. "Ramirez: you can nominate a teammate to slide for you. 'Cuz of the broken arm."
The whole crowd’s attention focused on Benjy.
Benjy stiffened, lowered his cast, and took a breath.
“No,” he said.
Marcus lowered the megaphone.
“What?”
“I said no.”
The brothers nearest the lane quieted.
“I’m doing it.”
Marcus smirked.
“You sure?”
“No. But I’m doing it," Benjy said. "For the brotherhood, I guess,” he added sheepishly.
A few brothers laughed approvingly. Carter's eyes narrowed, and he wrote something on his clipboard.
Carter was always watching, Will thought.
Will recalled the first challenge last night. How they were all being evaluated.
Everyone's nearly naked body slick with oil. The bursting balloons. The moment Will found himself standing with a boner in the middle of a crowd beneath the basement lights, his skin shining and exposed while everyone watched.
It should have been humiliating.
But beneath the embarrassment, he'd felt something else -- something hot, reckless, and free. Every stare had made his pulse beat harder.
And here, staring at the shining lane, the same heat returned as an idea occurred to Will.
Will looked down at his T-shirt and shorts.
The excuse was obvious. Almost inevitable.
The less fabric he wore, the less friction there would be. Bare skin would skim across the wet plastic. Nothing would slow him down.
It was a practical argument.
And yes, a perfect excuse.
Yesterday in the basement, he was exposed because he had to be.
But this? This could be different.
If Will stripped here, it would be his own choice.
And the entire lawn was watching. The brothers. The freshmen.
Derek in the next lane. Duncan on the terrace.
The thought sent a sharp current through his chest.
He imagined standing at the edge of the tarp, every inch of him visible.
Naked in front of everyone.
His heart hammered.
His cock began inflating.
Will decided to go for it. He turned to his team in a huddle.
“Clothes are gonna slow us down,” he said matter-of-factly.
Benjy stared at him.
Will nodded toward the lanes. “Bare skin would be faster.”
“Will..." Benjy said, unsure. "You want to go naked?”
Will lowered his voice. “I want to win.”
After a moment, Hunter added: “You’re not wrong.”
Benjy turned on him. “Don't encourage him.”
“It’s bold, Will," Hunter said. "But if you guys do it, I’ll do it."
Hunter began unfastening one cuff.
“For the team.”
Benjy looked betrayed. He looked at the slide, the crowd, and his own button-down shirt. His blue cast hung stiffly at his side.
The air horn gave a warning blast.
“First runners to the line!” Marcus shouted.
Something reckless switched on inside Will.
He stepped forward, feeling determined.
Derek looked over at Will from lane four, his muscular body loose and ready.
“You ready, Will?” Derek called. His green eyes were bright, teasing, and kind.
Will’s mouth went dry.
“I think so,” he shot back, mustering bravado.
Will stepped out of his sandals, unbuttoned his shorts, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband.
The brothers nearest to him noticed immediately.
A roar began to build.
"Strip! Strip! Strip!"
Derek’s eyebrows rose. Then his grin spread slowly across his face.
“Oh-ho,” he said. “Smart.”
The chant returned, louder now.
“Strip! Strip! Strip!”
Will’s heart hammered so hard he felt it in his neck.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head.
The evening air struck his pale chest. A cheer rose from the lawn.
"Strip! Strip! Strip!"
Will dropped his shirt behind him.
Marcus began counting.
“Three!”
Will shoved his shorts down.
“Two!”
His underwear followed.
Fuck yes.
For one exposed second, frozen in time, he stood naked in front of everyone.
The air touched his every surface.
His chest.
His thighs.
His cock.
His ass.
The world didn't end.
Actually, it opened.
“One!”
Will ran.
He took three quick strides and threw himself forward.
The pudding hit him cold across the chest and belly, swallowing him in slick sweetness. He shot along the plastic faster than expected, arms tucked close and face turned sideways as the lane roared beneath him.
Wind rushed over his back and whistled between his legs.
Pudding splashed through his hair, across his ribs, and down the cleft of his ass.
The crowd blurred. He heard screaming.
For several wild seconds, Will was nothing but skin and speed. His bare body skimmed the plastic, every inch of him exposed and alive. Cool air streamed over his naked ass.
His cock was massaged by the curves of the plastic beneath him, slick and smooth.
Will reached the end too fast. The basket rushed toward him, and he tumbled onto the wet grass beyond the plastic.
Laughter exploded around him.
Will scrambled upright. The white substance coated his chest and stomach, his thighs and pubes.
It clung in thick streaks to his cock and dripped from the underside of his balls.
As Will stood up, a frat brother standing near him looked him over and chuckled.
"Bukkake much?" he teased.
Without a word, Will bent over the basket, seized one plush lion by the head with his teeth, and turned. His rivals began arriving at the end of the line now.
He sprinted, then leapt and threw his feet forward onto the tarp, flat on his back this time.
The sky above him had turned peach and violet. Momentum carried him down the lane.
Now he was fully open.
Just watch me, fuckers.
The brothers standing along both sides of the lane could see everything.
Everything.
Will felt their attention.
His soft cock lay heavy against his belly, wet and exposed.
He could have curled inward. He could have covered himself.
Instead, he stayed on his back, letting them all see.
He felt himself harden.
Then, at the starting end, Hunter was waiting.
Naked.
Hunter Whitaker had stripped while Will was completing the course.
Will almost dropped the lion in his mouth as he approached.
Hunter's skin glowed pale gold in the sunset, and his reddish-brown hair had fallen over his forehead. His chest was delicately sculpted with faint chest hair glinting warmly.
Will nearly collided with Hunter's legs.
For a moment, crumpled at Hunter's feet, he could only stare upward.
A thin trail of hair ran from Hunter's belly button into a carefully trimmed auburn bush. His circumcised cock hung pink and soft over a smooth ballsack. Hunter looked shameless, as though this was nothing new compared to his prep school days.
The chaos rushed back into Will's ears.
Hunter looked down and shouted through the pandemonium.
“Pass it, Will! Pass it!”
Will lifted his head. Hunter bent, his hand on Will's shoulder. Their faces came too close.
For half a second, they were connected by the ridiculous tiny toy, lips nearly touching, both naked, both being observed.
Then Hunter pulled the lion free, dropped it into their team basket, and ran.
He launched himself down the lane, fast, sleek, and unbothered.
Will looked up to the terrace to assess the reaction. Carter had stopped pretending to study his clipboard. Instead, he stared as Hunter Whitaker's nude body sped across the lawn.
Will watched the narrow taper of Hunter's waist, the flex of his back, and the tight lift of his ass as he skimmed away, apparently effortless.
Right next to Will, Derek's laugh boomed. He was up next for his own team.
“Oh, fuck it,” Derek said.
Will turned in time to see Derek strip without hesitation.
His shirt came off first, revealing the massive bodybuilder chest Will had spent far too much time thinking about. Then Derek shoved his shorts and underwear down in one motion and stepped free with careless confidence.
Will’s mouth went dry. It was better than he'd imagined.
Derek was built thick everywhere.
Powerful thighs. A solid waist.
A girthy uncut cock hanging beneath a wild, dense, black bush.
Then Derek spun toward his lane, and Will saw the ass he had remembered all night.
Two perfect mounds of man-muscle.
Huge, buoyant, almost absurdly inviting, Derek's asscheeks were pale and smooth, with one freckle on the left cheek.
Will wanted his hands on them again. He wanted to split them. He wanted to feel Derek laugh while shoving back against him.
Derek glanced over his shoulder, and he caught Will staring.
His grin widened before he threw himself forward onto the slide.
Derek's ass bounced when he struck the plastic.
His tight ballsack appeared for an instant between his thighs before white pudding engulfed him.
A brother yelled, “Look at Derek go!”
Another shouted, “That’s a lot of cake for that icing!”
The crowd erupted as Derek disappeared down the lawn.
Will forgot where he was.
Benjy’s voice pulled him back.
“Will...”
Benjy was still mostly dressed.
His brick-red shirt hung open over his chest, and his jeans were gone. But he stood in black briefs with his cast tucked close.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Benjy said, looking down Will's entire body.
Will smiled and shrugged.
After Hunter returned, Will's two other teammates took their turns. Both kept their shorts on, apparently deciding Will had gone a step too far.
The team in lane four gained ground. Derek returned carrying a lion in his mouth, his enormous naked body glazed white from his shoulders to his knees.
When Derek stood up, the gooey white substance streamed down his chest.
It was matted in his dark untrimmed bush, dripping in heavy globs down the length of his fat cock.
Derek passed the mascot to his teammate, then he turned to cheer.
The race was tightening.
And Benjy waited. Each completed run made him more visibly anxious.
Marcus raised the megaphone.
“Hey Ramirez," he called out to Benjy. "Remember you can still sub out.”
Benjy’s jaw tightened.
A new chant began.
“Ben-jy. Ben-jy. Ben-jy.”
Benjy closed his eyes.
“Oh my God.”
Their penultimate teammate just started returning, sliding furiously back down lane three.
Will stepped closer.
“You don’t have to strip,” he told Benjy.
“I know.”
“You really don’t.”
“I know.”
Benjy opened his eyes.
Then, with stiff and terrified dignity, Benjy pulled his shirt from his shoulders.
He struggled briefly with the cast before Will helped ease it free.
Benjy's body was slender and smooth, his narrow chest rising and falling too quickly.
Shaking, Benjy hooked one thumb into the waistband of his square black briefs.
Will’s breath caught.
And Benjy pushed them down.
A soft black bush framed Benjy's cock, which hung dark against his thigh, smaller than Will's. His legs were sparsely hairy -- thin but shapely. His bright blue cast looked ridiculous against all that bare skin.
Benjy looked nothing like Derek. Nothing like Duncan. Nothing like the men Will had spent the past two days staring at.
And still, the sight of Benjy standing there -- scared yet brave, naked after Will had made the choice seem survivable -- made something tender twist inside Will’s chest.
Benjy breathed deep and walked to the edge of their lane, awaiting their teammate.
Across the lawn, other teams were finishing their second-to-last runs.
Hunter stood beside Will, naked and coated in pudding.
“It's getting close,” he said, one elbow on Will's shoulder.
Now on deck, Benjy took another breath as their blond teammate slid home.
Benjy retrieved the lion from the blond guy's mouth and dunked it in the basket.
Then he ran and leapt.
Benjy’s glasses stayed on through some miracle. He kept his cast above the worst of the mess while the rest of his slim, tanned body got splashed with gooey, white streaks.
Quicker than anyone, Benjy shot out the far end and tumbled onto the grass.
Will screamed louder than anyone.
“Go, Benjy!! Go!!”
Benjy rolled onto his knees, laughing now -- actually laughing.
He lurched to his feet, bent over the basket, and bit wildly at the last remaining lion.
Lane four’s final runner had already started back. The last slide home.
Benjy ran as fast as the wet grass allowed, leapt over the tarp, and threw himself onto his back.
His naked body swung side to side. He shot down the lane like a rocket.
Pudding gathered around his taint, coating his balls and inner thighs.
Will saw how Benjy's dense dark bush stood out starkly against his skin.
He saw Benjy's uncut cock flopping over his low-hanging sack.
The crowd chanted even louder.
“Ben-jy! Ben-jy! Ben-jy!”
Will saw the surprise in Benjy's face.
Benjy closed the gap with his neighbor, the plush lion still clenched between his teeth.
Then he shot past his neighbor, flew across the starting end, and tried to stand.
His feet went out from under him, and Will caught him underneath the armpits. White goop hung from Benjy's curls and ran down his face.
The lenses of Benjy's glasses were dripping with the cum-like substance.
Will seized the lion with his lips, pulled it free, and flung it into their basket.
The air horn screamed.
“LANE THREE!”
Will shouted. Benjy shouted. Hunter crashed into them from one side. Their other teammates collided from the other side, and the group jumped and jumped and collapsed into a laughing, naked heap of slippery limbs.
Benjy lay trapped underneath Will, breathless and swearing incoherently -- wet and warm, smooth and nude.
They had won.
Again.
Benjy’s good hand settled at Will’s waist and clenched tightly.
The brothers took up Benjy’s name again.
“Ben-jy! Ben-jy! Ben-jy!”
Then Benjy doubled over and laughed. He lifted his good arm above the pile in acknowledgment. The crowd roared louder.
Marcus came over. He seized Benjy’s hand and raised it high, while Benjy's dick swung like a pendulum.
“Benjy Ramirez -- our one-armed hero!!”
The brothers cheered louder than ever.
Benjy stood naked before the whole fraternity, white globs dripping from his flattened curls, down his chest, and across the cast that he had refused to use as an excuse.
Will noticed Benjy blushing. Of course he blushed.
But he let them look. He let the moment happen. He even smiled.
Will saw Duncan across the lawn near the terrace steps, smirking warmly, already holding folded towels beneath one arm.
Marcus reclaimed the megaphone while the chanting died down.
“Nice work, freshies, nice work! Rush is officially... over.”
Amid the cheers, Ethan climbed up beside him. “And before you ask... No, we’re not announcing who gets to join yet. The winners will get the call in two days.”
"But forget about that now," Marcus added. "We got the house party tonight! So clean your asses up and get back here to get waaaaasted!”Another cheer erupted, and people began to disperse.Strangers patted Will and Benjy on the back amiably, as they stood there gleaming.
Derek approached, naked and dripping, laughing as though he had lost in the best possible way.
“Benjy!!” he shouted. “You crazy little bastard!”
Derek came over and slapped Benjy on the back, nearly knocking him forward.
“Nice job, Cast Boy.” Derek laughed.
Then Derek looked at Will, pointing at his chest. “And you started all this, you crazy ass.”
Derek offered Will a hand. When Will took it, Derek hauled him forward so quickly that their bodies collided.
For one suspended second, their wet, naked chests pressed together. Derek crushed the breath out of Will, and they laughed.
Will felt the full heat and weight of Derek's body, both of them slick and coated in slime.
He felt the jutting muscle across Derek's wide chest and the hard plane of his stomach.
And he felt Derek’s thick, hairy cock.
Pressed against his abdomen.
Hanging low and rigid.
Smearing the thick goo onto his side.
Will’s other hand had landed on Derek’s hip. He let it slide an inch lower, fingers settling against the upper curve of Derek’s ass.
Derek looked down at Will, amused.
Then Duncan approached.
Derek's mouth tightened, and he stood back. Will stumbled, vividly aware again that he was fully nude right in front of Duncan of all people.
The Frat Dad.
With towels under his arm, Duncan took them in with one slow glance -- Derek and Hunter, Benjy and Will.
Four young men, ass-naked.
When Duncan's eyes reached Will, they stopped.
Will didn't know what to say. He didn't know where to look.
And then Duncan spoke first, looking right at him.
"You boys ready to hit the showers?"
--TO BE CONTINUED--
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