FRAT HOUSE RESCUE
I hope you will be indulgent. I didn’t have time to really proof or revise this much and I will be incommunicado for the next two months. I just wanted it posted before I leave so it’s in rough, tho’ hopefully appealing, form.
This story involves a frat gang bang with a woman, but there is, in inevitably, a bit of bromance in it, and it has a bit of heart in it.It’s considerably more explicit than my other story “Native American First Exposure to Wrestling” here at lpsg.
Part 1 of 5 Ryan, the President of Pi Kappa Psi fraternity, sat at the well-worn small wooden desk in the modest room that served as the frat’s “business office.” In his hand was the original letter he had received some weeks before and which he felt he should have at hand for the upcoming meeting between him and the letter’s author.
The text itself was brief and even mysterious: As a long-term financial supporter of the Fraternity, I would appreciate a brief meeting with you on a matter that concerns us both.
The letter was signed by Mr. Tanaka, a man whose relationship with the frat was somewhat unclear. He had indeed donated to the organization through regular, though modest, contributions, and hence the letter intrigued Ryan, an interest that was intensified by the recent uncovering of the true state of the frat’s finances. It was not a pretty picture; if some source of funds were not found soon, the frat would have to close. In that situation, Ryan would go down in frat history as the president that let the frat collapse, even if it wasn’t really his fault. Devoted to the brotherhood so carefully cultivated in PKP, a default was too painful to contemplate, and its incipient presence pushed Ryan into the realm of desperation. Something about the terse nature of the letter raised his hopes, though he hardly knew why.
Slightly over six feet tall, with sandy, tawny hair, flashing green eyes, thick eyelashes, and a muscular built cultivated through hours in the weight room in high school and college, Ryan had “it”—whatever “it” was. He had noticed from a young age that people often literally stopped on the street to stare as clandestinely as they could at how handsome he was. From giggling school girl, to sophisticated college students, to smiling moms, the female of our species couldn’t keep from gazing, even gawking. Ryan was aware of the effect his beauty had on people. Indeed, he had used it to his advantage, from maintaining relationships within the frat to seducing a number of girls on campus. Despite this, he was no flakey model type. A strong student with a penchant for building relationships with others, he was admired by virtually everyone who knew him. His reputation was stellar—all the more reason that the simply had to find a way to solve the frat’s financial woes.
A knock on the door sounded at precisely 10:00 on a crisp autumn morning. As the trees outside gently let fall their orange and red leaves, and the Ivy League campus looked its most idyllic, the door opened and Mr. Tanaka entered. Though Ryan had never met him, he treated him with deferential courtesy, rising to meet him and coming out from behind the desk. Before him stood a relatively short man of Japanese origin: perhaps 5’6” with classic dark, almost black, hair, almond eyes and a slightbuild. He looked to be about 50 or so, Ryan judged. He countenance seemed friendly if slightly reserved, and his body language offered both the formality of his country of origin and the relaxed comfort of a man who had absorbed his physical mode of moving through the world. He gave the impression of a man who could spring lightly in the air and grab onto the facade of a building if he needed to.
Sensitive to protocol, Ryan waited to see if Mr. Tanaka would reach out his hand to shake or revert back to the customs of his native Japan and bow. But Mr. Tanaka had been in America for decades and offered his hand as any Western businessman in the world might do.
“Thank you for your letter, Mr. Tanaka,” began Ryan. “I was intrigued…”
“You’ll forgive me for interrupting, President Ryan”— and the title along with his name struck the young man as anachronistic—“but I have to be very direct.”
“Yes, of course.”
“You know that I am a regular contributor to this fraternity.”
“Yes, indeed, and we are grateful.”
The older man spoke perfect English, though with a slight accent that indicated youth speaking a different language.
“I have felt some affection for this frat,” continued Mr. Tanaka, “because my childhood friend, now deceased”—here he paused for a moment—“because my childhood friend belonged to it when we were in college. I myself did not belong to any frat, though I don’t mind telling you that I wish I had.”
“That’s a very generous gesture on your part,” responded Ryan. He had actually done some research and had conversations with the university’s fundraisers about the language to use with a potential donor.
“To be efficient, I will just say here that I am prepared to make a substantial gift to the fraternity—a gift which, I believe, you will happily receive. I understand that recent discoveries have put the frat on thin ice.”
Ryan said nothing but wondered how the alumnus had gotten this information.
“The gift I want to make will solve your financial predicament,” said Mr. Tanaka. “But I want something in return.”
Again, Ryan said nothing and kept his face carefully open. His heart raced at this unexpected offer and his mind whirled trying to figure out what this man could possibly want in order to make his donation.
“I do not have a lot of time,” said Mr. Tanaka, “and I need to be candid.” He paused a moment and in a barely perceptible motion almost seemed to draw himself up as if making a long-rehearsed speech. “Bluntly put, President Ryan, this fraternity is known for it, shall we say, the sexual activities of its members. Please let me finish,” he said quickly as he perceived Ryan about to speak up. “You must not deny it; everyone on campus knows the gentlemen in this fraternity have seduced half the women on campus.”
Ryan considered his quickly. What was he to say? Although there were certainly no written rules about who was admitted to the frat, even the most casual observer could not fail to notice that virtually all the members were good-looking, athletically built young men who reinforced each other’s sexual conquests on campus through daily descriptions to their “brothers.” Most of the conversation throughout the day involved recounting sexual victories, seductions, and even graphic descriptions of the intensity of their sex positions with these women. “Interviews” with prospective brothers always involved nice pranks, scores of dick jokes, physical homoerotic activities, stopping just shy of actual circle jerks. In this way, without stating that penis size was one factor in the decision to accept new students, nonetheless, no guy was admitted if the officers hadn’t assessed his body and therefore his sexual prowess.
Mr. Tanaka continued, “I know that frat members like to brag about their sexual contests. I understand that and, to be honest, I even envy it."
Ryan just nodded.
Mr. Tanaka stunned him with his next statement. “President Ryan, as a college man you are probably not interested in the complexities of marriage, but in my culture, husband and wife are devoted to each other. I love my wife very much, and she loves and respects me. I would do anything for her. And even though she cares fo my wellbeing, there is one area where I cannot give her what she needs: the bedroom.”
Ryan started at this. Here was a man his father’s age, whom he did not know, telling him the most intimate detail possible.
“You will not understand part of this,” continued Mr. Tanaka. “I have it on good authority that the members of this frat are—what is the expression?— well endowed. I put it to you that this is the case, is it not?”
Ryan couldn’t resist a slight smile. Having seen every single member of the house naked at some point, and almost all of then with erections now and again due to the casual nature of the frat, he had to admit: not a one of them carried a small dick. It was the source of much banter.
He felt he had been silent long enough. “I suppose that’s a reputation we have on campus, Mr. Tanaka.”
“That is what I need you for. You see, that description does not fit me, and even though my wife has insisted our romantic life is acceptable, I know she wants more. Bluntly, she wants a man with a big penis to fuck her. I cannot be more direct than that.” He leaned back a little in his chair.
Ryan, already stunned, felt the force of his guest’s words like a Mike Tyson punch to the gut.
“Ohhhh….” He stammered. Mr. Tanaka held up his hand.
“Having breached that first statement, President Ryan, I will follow it up with a perhaps even more shocking statement. She wants more than one man to do this to her.”
“More than one man…” Ryan was starting to recover and felt it important to keep his cool. “You mean a series of, shall we say, lovers?”
“No,” answered Mr. Tanaka. “Not a series. A group. What I believe you call a ‘gang bang’. In a moment of candor with me, she confessed that she sometimes fantasied about having 5 or 6 men use her, but then she reneged on it. But I know she wants it. I do not have friends of that nature who can help me, so I turn to you. Do you have a handful of men in this frat who would be willing to do this for the financial good of the organization?” He sat back with the air of having said his peace and left the ball in the other man’s court.
Though his brain was on fire at this conversation, Ryan tried to maintain his composure. The phrase “gang bang” instantly set him thinking about the three or four times that the frat brothers had indeed fucked their dates in a group of about a dozen. It had happened in the frat basement with the consent of all parties involved. Afterwards, Ryan felt some conflict about the raw, animalistic nature of group sex, but he certainly enjoyed reliving it in his memory and discussing it with his friends. Though the concept seemed crude as he sat there in the office on that fall morning, he would certainly be a hypocrite if he condemned the man before him for such a “perversion.”
“So,” continued Ryan carefully, “you want me to recruit, as it were, a number of my frat bothers to have sex with your wife in one setting. Do I understand that correctly, Mr. Tanaka?” Ryan sustained his best business face and voice.
“That is indeed correct, President Ryan. You know I have had a successful business life here in the United States after arriving here from Japan many years ago. I can afford to be generous in order to give my wife what she needs. Money can go a long way, as you know, and my money can secure the future of your fraternity… but…” here he sighed slightly, “there is one thing money cannot buy.”
Here he goes, thought Ryan.
“It cannot buy a big penis. I do not have a big penis, President Ryan, as I’m sure you have guessed by now, or I would not have made this surprising offer. That is why I want you and your brothers to fuck my wife while I watch. Afterwards, I shall be glad to… what is the term?”
Oh crap, thought Ryan. I have to answer him. In his gentlest terms but with the same determined frankness of the visitor, Ryan gently offered, “I believe the term you want is ‘sloppy seconds.’”
“Yes,” said Mr. Tanaka, with the most delicate of smiles. “This would make my wife very happy, as it would me, the money you ‘earned’ would also make you happy. Plus, my wife is very beautiful. It is, as I believe you say, a win-win.”
Ryan felt time pause as he considered the astonishing offer he had just received. But he hardly had time. Mr. Tanaka was standing up and saying, “You must not refuse this, President Ryan. Here is a cashier’s check for $50,000 to show I am in earnest. In one week, I shall send a limousine to the frat to take you and six of your ‘brothers’ to my house. They should refrain from sexual activities during this next week so that they are ready. After they have finished using her in every way possible, I shall take my sloppy seconds and you will receive a check for 1.25 million dollars from my bank the next business day. Understood?
Ryan rose out of courtesy and came round the desk. Although a resident of the United States for decades, perhaps something about the profound depths such an offer made in his psyche (this is awkwardly phrased) made Mr. Tanaka revert back to his native culture, and rather than a handshake, he bowed simply and elegantly and said, “Good-bye, President Ryan.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Tanaka” answered the college man. Mr. Tanaka turned and left the room with an athletic grace.
Ryan stood in front of his desk, stunned. Like all this college buddies, he had certainly had plenty of fantasies about a number of guys fucking one woman, and the group sex experiences in the frat were the closest to a gang bang he had even been. As he recalled himself lying in bed as a freshman, thinking about what it would be like to fuck some chick with his buds around him and starting to jack off, his eyes lighted on the check on his desk—a mere piece of paper with some figures typed on it, figures that would save the most important organization in his life. He stood for a few more minutes, constructing a list in his mind, then left the office and began knocking on hallway doors.
I hope you will be indulgent. I didn’t have time to really proof or revise this much and I will be incommunicado for the next two months. I just wanted it posted before I leave so it’s in rough, tho’ hopefully appealing, form.
This story involves a frat gang bang with a woman, but there is, in inevitably, a bit of bromance in it, and it has a bit of heart in it.It’s considerably more explicit than my other story “Native American First Exposure to Wrestling” here at lpsg.
Part 1 of 5 Ryan, the President of Pi Kappa Psi fraternity, sat at the well-worn small wooden desk in the modest room that served as the frat’s “business office.” In his hand was the original letter he had received some weeks before and which he felt he should have at hand for the upcoming meeting between him and the letter’s author.
The text itself was brief and even mysterious: As a long-term financial supporter of the Fraternity, I would appreciate a brief meeting with you on a matter that concerns us both.
The letter was signed by Mr. Tanaka, a man whose relationship with the frat was somewhat unclear. He had indeed donated to the organization through regular, though modest, contributions, and hence the letter intrigued Ryan, an interest that was intensified by the recent uncovering of the true state of the frat’s finances. It was not a pretty picture; if some source of funds were not found soon, the frat would have to close. In that situation, Ryan would go down in frat history as the president that let the frat collapse, even if it wasn’t really his fault. Devoted to the brotherhood so carefully cultivated in PKP, a default was too painful to contemplate, and its incipient presence pushed Ryan into the realm of desperation. Something about the terse nature of the letter raised his hopes, though he hardly knew why.
Slightly over six feet tall, with sandy, tawny hair, flashing green eyes, thick eyelashes, and a muscular built cultivated through hours in the weight room in high school and college, Ryan had “it”—whatever “it” was. He had noticed from a young age that people often literally stopped on the street to stare as clandestinely as they could at how handsome he was. From giggling school girl, to sophisticated college students, to smiling moms, the female of our species couldn’t keep from gazing, even gawking. Ryan was aware of the effect his beauty had on people. Indeed, he had used it to his advantage, from maintaining relationships within the frat to seducing a number of girls on campus. Despite this, he was no flakey model type. A strong student with a penchant for building relationships with others, he was admired by virtually everyone who knew him. His reputation was stellar—all the more reason that the simply had to find a way to solve the frat’s financial woes.
A knock on the door sounded at precisely 10:00 on a crisp autumn morning. As the trees outside gently let fall their orange and red leaves, and the Ivy League campus looked its most idyllic, the door opened and Mr. Tanaka entered. Though Ryan had never met him, he treated him with deferential courtesy, rising to meet him and coming out from behind the desk. Before him stood a relatively short man of Japanese origin: perhaps 5’6” with classic dark, almost black, hair, almond eyes and a slightbuild. He looked to be about 50 or so, Ryan judged. He countenance seemed friendly if slightly reserved, and his body language offered both the formality of his country of origin and the relaxed comfort of a man who had absorbed his physical mode of moving through the world. He gave the impression of a man who could spring lightly in the air and grab onto the facade of a building if he needed to.
Sensitive to protocol, Ryan waited to see if Mr. Tanaka would reach out his hand to shake or revert back to the customs of his native Japan and bow. But Mr. Tanaka had been in America for decades and offered his hand as any Western businessman in the world might do.
“Thank you for your letter, Mr. Tanaka,” began Ryan. “I was intrigued…”
“You’ll forgive me for interrupting, President Ryan”— and the title along with his name struck the young man as anachronistic—“but I have to be very direct.”
“Yes, of course.”
“You know that I am a regular contributor to this fraternity.”
“Yes, indeed, and we are grateful.”
The older man spoke perfect English, though with a slight accent that indicated youth speaking a different language.
“I have felt some affection for this frat,” continued Mr. Tanaka, “because my childhood friend, now deceased”—here he paused for a moment—“because my childhood friend belonged to it when we were in college. I myself did not belong to any frat, though I don’t mind telling you that I wish I had.”
“That’s a very generous gesture on your part,” responded Ryan. He had actually done some research and had conversations with the university’s fundraisers about the language to use with a potential donor.
“To be efficient, I will just say here that I am prepared to make a substantial gift to the fraternity—a gift which, I believe, you will happily receive. I understand that recent discoveries have put the frat on thin ice.”
Ryan said nothing but wondered how the alumnus had gotten this information.
“The gift I want to make will solve your financial predicament,” said Mr. Tanaka. “But I want something in return.”
Again, Ryan said nothing and kept his face carefully open. His heart raced at this unexpected offer and his mind whirled trying to figure out what this man could possibly want in order to make his donation.
“I do not have a lot of time,” said Mr. Tanaka, “and I need to be candid.” He paused a moment and in a barely perceptible motion almost seemed to draw himself up as if making a long-rehearsed speech. “Bluntly put, President Ryan, this fraternity is known for it, shall we say, the sexual activities of its members. Please let me finish,” he said quickly as he perceived Ryan about to speak up. “You must not deny it; everyone on campus knows the gentlemen in this fraternity have seduced half the women on campus.”
Ryan considered his quickly. What was he to say? Although there were certainly no written rules about who was admitted to the frat, even the most casual observer could not fail to notice that virtually all the members were good-looking, athletically built young men who reinforced each other’s sexual conquests on campus through daily descriptions to their “brothers.” Most of the conversation throughout the day involved recounting sexual victories, seductions, and even graphic descriptions of the intensity of their sex positions with these women. “Interviews” with prospective brothers always involved nice pranks, scores of dick jokes, physical homoerotic activities, stopping just shy of actual circle jerks. In this way, without stating that penis size was one factor in the decision to accept new students, nonetheless, no guy was admitted if the officers hadn’t assessed his body and therefore his sexual prowess.
Mr. Tanaka continued, “I know that frat members like to brag about their sexual contests. I understand that and, to be honest, I even envy it."
Ryan just nodded.
Mr. Tanaka stunned him with his next statement. “President Ryan, as a college man you are probably not interested in the complexities of marriage, but in my culture, husband and wife are devoted to each other. I love my wife very much, and she loves and respects me. I would do anything for her. And even though she cares fo my wellbeing, there is one area where I cannot give her what she needs: the bedroom.”
Ryan started at this. Here was a man his father’s age, whom he did not know, telling him the most intimate detail possible.
“You will not understand part of this,” continued Mr. Tanaka. “I have it on good authority that the members of this frat are—what is the expression?— well endowed. I put it to you that this is the case, is it not?”
Ryan couldn’t resist a slight smile. Having seen every single member of the house naked at some point, and almost all of then with erections now and again due to the casual nature of the frat, he had to admit: not a one of them carried a small dick. It was the source of much banter.
He felt he had been silent long enough. “I suppose that’s a reputation we have on campus, Mr. Tanaka.”
“That is what I need you for. You see, that description does not fit me, and even though my wife has insisted our romantic life is acceptable, I know she wants more. Bluntly, she wants a man with a big penis to fuck her. I cannot be more direct than that.” He leaned back a little in his chair.
Ryan, already stunned, felt the force of his guest’s words like a Mike Tyson punch to the gut.
“Ohhhh….” He stammered. Mr. Tanaka held up his hand.
“Having breached that first statement, President Ryan, I will follow it up with a perhaps even more shocking statement. She wants more than one man to do this to her.”
“More than one man…” Ryan was starting to recover and felt it important to keep his cool. “You mean a series of, shall we say, lovers?”
“No,” answered Mr. Tanaka. “Not a series. A group. What I believe you call a ‘gang bang’. In a moment of candor with me, she confessed that she sometimes fantasied about having 5 or 6 men use her, but then she reneged on it. But I know she wants it. I do not have friends of that nature who can help me, so I turn to you. Do you have a handful of men in this frat who would be willing to do this for the financial good of the organization?” He sat back with the air of having said his peace and left the ball in the other man’s court.
Though his brain was on fire at this conversation, Ryan tried to maintain his composure. The phrase “gang bang” instantly set him thinking about the three or four times that the frat brothers had indeed fucked their dates in a group of about a dozen. It had happened in the frat basement with the consent of all parties involved. Afterwards, Ryan felt some conflict about the raw, animalistic nature of group sex, but he certainly enjoyed reliving it in his memory and discussing it with his friends. Though the concept seemed crude as he sat there in the office on that fall morning, he would certainly be a hypocrite if he condemned the man before him for such a “perversion.”
“So,” continued Ryan carefully, “you want me to recruit, as it were, a number of my frat bothers to have sex with your wife in one setting. Do I understand that correctly, Mr. Tanaka?” Ryan sustained his best business face and voice.
“That is indeed correct, President Ryan. You know I have had a successful business life here in the United States after arriving here from Japan many years ago. I can afford to be generous in order to give my wife what she needs. Money can go a long way, as you know, and my money can secure the future of your fraternity… but…” here he sighed slightly, “there is one thing money cannot buy.”
Here he goes, thought Ryan.
“It cannot buy a big penis. I do not have a big penis, President Ryan, as I’m sure you have guessed by now, or I would not have made this surprising offer. That is why I want you and your brothers to fuck my wife while I watch. Afterwards, I shall be glad to… what is the term?”
Oh crap, thought Ryan. I have to answer him. In his gentlest terms but with the same determined frankness of the visitor, Ryan gently offered, “I believe the term you want is ‘sloppy seconds.’”
“Yes,” said Mr. Tanaka, with the most delicate of smiles. “This would make my wife very happy, as it would me, the money you ‘earned’ would also make you happy. Plus, my wife is very beautiful. It is, as I believe you say, a win-win.”
Ryan felt time pause as he considered the astonishing offer he had just received. But he hardly had time. Mr. Tanaka was standing up and saying, “You must not refuse this, President Ryan. Here is a cashier’s check for $50,000 to show I am in earnest. In one week, I shall send a limousine to the frat to take you and six of your ‘brothers’ to my house. They should refrain from sexual activities during this next week so that they are ready. After they have finished using her in every way possible, I shall take my sloppy seconds and you will receive a check for 1.25 million dollars from my bank the next business day. Understood?
Ryan rose out of courtesy and came round the desk. Although a resident of the United States for decades, perhaps something about the profound depths such an offer made in his psyche (this is awkwardly phrased) made Mr. Tanaka revert back to his native culture, and rather than a handshake, he bowed simply and elegantly and said, “Good-bye, President Ryan.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Tanaka” answered the college man. Mr. Tanaka turned and left the room with an athletic grace.
Ryan stood in front of his desk, stunned. Like all this college buddies, he had certainly had plenty of fantasies about a number of guys fucking one woman, and the group sex experiences in the frat were the closest to a gang bang he had even been. As he recalled himself lying in bed as a freshman, thinking about what it would be like to fuck some chick with his buds around him and starting to jack off, his eyes lighted on the check on his desk—a mere piece of paper with some figures typed on it, figures that would save the most important organization in his life. He stood for a few more minutes, constructing a list in his mind, then left the office and began knocking on hallway doors.
