Kates Sorority

"A lot of the girls here don't like men very much. Well, I can see why. They've been through what I've been through. So there's an emphasis on self-reliance."

"You mean – er – girl on girl?" Jim said, tentatively.
"Yes, that too. I'd never done any of that stuff before, so it was quite a shock."

"I can believe you!"

"Yes."

"To get accepted here," Angela continued, 'you have to prove you are self-reliant."

"Which means?"

"Well, you have to try things. You can say 'I don't like this', but then they say – the seniors, that is --- 'How do you know, if you haven't tried it?'."

"But don't get me wrong, most of them are really nice girls. It's just the odd few, well.... I'm sure you can imagine."

Jim couldn't. But he said nothing.

"Anyway, I got through all that. I got my brooch. So now I'm set."

She said it without enthusiasm.

"Let me guess," Jim said. "This is the first time you've participated in an 'Event', right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"No. Just a guess."

"Well it's true. You have to get through two before you're allowed to put your name on the list."

"List?"

"The list of girls who want a partner – sex with a guy."

"Hell, I like sex," she continued. "But this ... it's so ...?"

"Artificial?"

"Contrived, I'd say. Now if all the guys were like you...."

She stopped herself.

"I shouldn't be talking like this," she said. "If anyone found out..."

"They won't. I haven't heard a word. Promise."

"You seem like a real nice guy. I hope you make it. I'll be first on your list!"

"That I will truly look forward to."

Pause.

"I probably should be going," Angela said, reluctantly. "It's been great chatting. And listen, if anyone asks, we had a great fuck. That's what I'll say, anyway."

"One day, maybe," Jim said, entirely honestly.

"Hopefully," Angela replied, mussing up her hair.

"Bye."

"Au revoir."

Chapter 6

"Hi! I'm Pat."

"And I'm Ginger."

"And I'm Samantha."

Stupendous all three. The girls formed a semi-circle around him, two beside, one between his legs. She began work on his cock, which soon showed signs of life. The other two guided Jim's hands to various parts of their anatomy, breasts, thighs, then to business, between their legs. After a while, the girls switched, clockwise and after two rounds of hard sucking and massaging, Jim's cock was pronounced restored to full erection.

Pat straddled him, but with her back to him. Fully impaled, she leaned backwards so her head rested on his shoulder. Instinctively, Jim's hands reached for her breasts, which he fondled and squeezed. Ginger knelt between his legs and he felt her tongue on his balls, then the base of his cock – the bit that was not inside Pat – then the tongue moved higher. Pat's body began to twitch and she uttered soft moans. Ginger's tongue was working her clit hood.

Meanwhile, Samantha stood on the couch and, placing one leg its back, lowered herself so that Jim could lick whichever part of her pussy she presented to him.

Not exactly Jim's fantasy of 'doing it' with three delectable females. But the girls seemed to be enjoying themselves and Pat's wriggles, though not particularly stimulating, kept his cock stiff.

Pat came suddenly, her body twitching wildly. A loud hiss escaped from her lips. The air felt cold on his cock as it emerged from Pat's vagina. A hand, presumably Ginger's grasped it and massaged vigorously for a while. Then she turned and mounted him, driving down hard so she was fully impaled, before falling back, her head on Jim's shoulder. Samantha took her place between Jim's knees, her tongue grazed Jim's balls, and moved upwards. Ginger's pleasure registered as sighs, grunts and moans. She clasped her hands around Jim's, encouraging firmer squeezing of her breasts.

Pat sat to one side, watching, stroking herself.

As the foursome evolved, Jim's feeling that this was no foursome but really a threesome increased. His cock was nothing but a 'live dildo', which the girls used to help bring each other off. He was part of the action, but an inactive part.

He found his thoughts returning more and more to Angela. It would not be like this with her. Give and receive. He formed a mental image of her heart shaped face with its high cheekbones and soooo blue eyes and imagined himself slow-fucking her, stroking her, kissing deeply, feeling her desire. Ginger's breasts, her cunt, became Angela's. He wanted her, like he had never wanted a girl before in his life.

The three girls all returned for 'seconds' and Jim's cock held throughout. He felt no desire to ejaculate, presumably because of the massive load he'd delivered into Janet. And memory of the stimulation he had undergone prior to this – most prominently from Mandy – kept his dick hard. Or maybe it was thoughts of being with Angela, just the two of them. All night. It had to be. It was pre-ordained.........

"Hi! I'm Sandra."

"And I'm Vanda."

"She likes to watch while I suck your cock," Sandra said.

Vanda settled on the couch and spread her legs. Sandra fetched a cushion, knelt on it and took the tip of Jim's cock into her mouth.

"Hang onto it, big fella," she said. "This could take a while."

It did..........

"Hi! I'm Linda."

"Jim."

"Yeah. I know. I'm afraid I'm not very adventurous. How would you feel about a hard fuck, Jim? The old-fashioned way?"

......

Chapter 7

Jim was truly amazed when the door opened and Matron appeared. What!? 24 hours already? The time had flown by. And he'd come only three times? He could scarcely believe it.

"Well, young man. You seem to be alive still. The girls didn't eat you to death."

Matron seemed to think this was funny.

His exit, as surreptitious as his entry, was equally ignominious.

"So, did I make it?" he'd asked.

"Make what?"

"Stud of the week, or whatever you call it."

"Oh my goodness, it's far too early to tell. We have to wait for the judgment of the girls."

"When will I know?"

"Who knows?"

"How will I know?"

"You'll be contacted."

"Will I know if I didn't make it?"

"Well of course." Matron made the question seem stupid. "If no-one contacts you."

Jim slunk away from Kates in the dark, his tail truly between his legs. Only later would he say to himself 'Hell, I gave it my best shot'. Indeed, it still seemed to him miraculous that he'd 'seen' girls continuously for 24 hours – though he came to understand that with the possible exceptions of Melissa and Angela, 'serviced' was a more appropriate word. The girls had used him as a plaything, an aide d'orgasme. Even the few times he'd come, it seemed the girl had sought this as eagerly and actively as he had.

Melissa had been right when she said the girls had all sorts of tastes, and got off in all sorts of ways. In this respect, Jim's night at Kates had been truly a learning experience. If that was all, he comforted himself, it was an element of his education that few guys enjoyed.

But the comfort was brief, broken by thoughts of Angela -- of possibly never seeing her 'that way'. Desire for her drove him nuts.

The next week was agony for Jim. His work suffered. His profs noticed the fall off in performance, but it was not their job to ask questions, merely to pass judgment. If they drew the correct conclusion, it would make no difference. Jim would not be the first promising student to 'lose it' because he'd fallen in love with a girl.

Ten days after the 'Event', Jim was walking across the campus from dorm to lab, as usual. He was trying to focus on his assignment, but Angela would keep intruding. 'How long was this going on?' he wondered. He recognized the fall-off in his performance. His concentration was shot. If this continued for long, his post-graduate program would be threatened. He'd long since given up waiting to be 'contacted'. It could not take them this long, he thought. Nevertheless, Angela had gotten into his mind. He tried to cast her aside, but kept on failing.

So it came as a surprise to him when he heard the voice.

"Hi, Jim!"

He turned on his heel.

"Congratulations!" Melissa said. "You made it."

Relief flooded through him. Never had he felt anything like this. He struggled to suppress a heart that seemed to want to leap out of his chest.

"So what happens now?" he asked, simulating calm.

"Here's your instructions," Melissa said, holding out an envelope. "I'm just the messenger girl."

She smiled.

How could she know that Jim was thinking only of Angela? She'd be at the top of his list, she'd said.

Eagerly, Jim took the envelope and made as though to open it. Melissa laid a hand on his arm.

"Not now. Later, and in private. And of course, for your eyes only."

"Guard it with my life," he said.

"You'd better!" She was smiling as she said it. But Jim knew what lay behind that smile.

She left Jim to admire from behind the seductive walk that marked a Kates girl.

Of course, the day was shot. Depression had turned into an even more distracting elation. Jim tried to concentrate on class, but the envelope, folded and secreted in the back pocket of his jeans was burning a hole in them.

At lunchtime he positively raced back to the dorm, locked himself in his room and ripped open the envelope. There was a single sheet of paper inside on which was written:

"Send an e-mail to the address below. Give your name, include the code-word 'Goddess' and list the names of six of the girls you saw."

Hastily, he flipped open his laptop, waited impatiently while it loaded, then used his gmail address to send the mail. 6 girls? Easy. Angela first, of course, Melissa, Sue, Mandy, Janet.... He struggled for a sixth. There had been so many, and he had to be sure. Samantha, he wrote finally. An unusual name. He was sure. Thank God they hadn't asked for seven!

Off went the mail. Jim made himself a coffee, keeping one eye on the screen. Which stared back at him sullenly.

After an hour, he gave up and raced to make his lab class. At least he'd show up, even if the state of his emotions was hardly conducive to the design and build of a circuit element you could barely see through the microscope. Required a steady hand and a focused brain.

Jim's brain was focused all right. But on Angela's face, her long blonde hair, and her slender legs and pure white thighs. He'd even caught a brief glimpse of her pussy as she tucked her legs under her and smoothed out the short skirt. As he squinted into the microscope, those full, succulent pussy lips gleamed back at him. He imagined taking them in his mouth, sucking gently, opening them out......... Agony, at imminent ecstasy.

It was not unusual for him to closet himself away in his room, and the few friends he had in the dorm assumed the usual reason. He had lost himself in an assignment. The 'Jim' who sat before his laptop, gmail open, staring at a screen that remained obstinately blank and chewing his nails, this 'Jim' they would not have recognized.

At 10pm the coveted black line appeared. Eagerly, Jim opened the mail. It said;

'gmail is not secure. Create a new mail address and resend your previous mail. Use the new address only for this correspondence. Erase this gmail conversation."

Jim cursed. Why were they messing him about? Gmail was fine. Angrily, he brought up yahoo, tried to create a new account in the name James.Bond69, found this was taken, tried 96, which was also taken. Bond.James133 was offered as an alternative. Ok, so he would be the 133rd Bond.James!

Off went the mail. The waiting began again. But this time, the reply was almost immediate.

'Indicate availability for your next visit.'

Hastily, he shot off the reply,

'Whenever.'

And back came, by return,

'Tuesday 10pm. – Wednesday 6am. You will receive further instructions on Monday. Please confirm.'

'Confirm Tuesday 10pm – Wednesday 6am,' Jim typed and hit send.

It was Thursday. Jim cursed again. And a weekend between. Still, 8 hours alone with Angela. Worth the wait!

Chapter 8

Monday arrived, and Jim skipped class. He monitored his Bond.James mail continuously before giving up at 3pm and heading for the gym to work out. He had to do something to distract himself.

Jim usually masturbated five or six times a week. Since the 'Event', however, he had kept his hand off it, at first because he felt no urge. His complement of hormones, it would seem, was used up. The beasts came back in a hurry following his encounter with Melissa, but Jim was strict with himself. He'd hold it in, ready for 8 hours with Angela, even as he rehearsed in his mind how those hours would evolve -- kissing, mutual stroking, caressing her pussy with his fingers, then his tongue and lips, listening for the signs, taking her over the top -- orgasm number 1. Then he'd enter her right away and slow fuck her until she was ready to come again, and he was ready too. She'd cling to him, crying out in his ear as they collapsed in mutual ecstasy........

The mail zapped in at 10pm precisely. He opened it eagerly.

'Tuesday 9.50 be at the large oak tree on the road behind the building. You will receive further instructions there. The code word is 'BondJames'.'

That was it.

'Cheez!' Jim thought. 'Like some kind of spying mission.'

Tuesday morning, after a restless night, he skipped class again and reconnoitered, keeping well clear of Kates so he would not be seen. There was indeed a narrow road behind the Sorority. Used mostly by cyclists who lived off-campus. And the oak tree was unmistakable. It was probably older than the campus. He peered through the trees. Kates must be back there somewhere. The building was not in sight. He was about to enter the wood when he caught himself. If he was seen? Bad idea.

Trying to appear casual, he retraced his steps. By 9.50 it would be dark. The road would be lit, but dimly. Jim satisfied himself that he could find the oak tree in the dim light, and retraced his steps, timing the journey back to his dorm. 15 minutes the long way around, the way he would take.

Back in his room he found that desire was now mixed with anxiety. As the clock ticked the minutes away, so monstrously slowly, the latter feeling began to dominate. The 'cloak and dagger' aspect stilled his desire, even for Angela.

At 9pm he was dressed. Jeans, shirt, light jacket laid on the bed, ready. He'd solved the problem of leaving the dorm unobserved. Easy. His room was on the ground floor. It was a short drop from the window, trees on either side. If he was seen the natural assumption would be made. Jim had gotten lucky and didn't want it spread around! Which happened to be nothing but the truth.

He arrived at the oak tree at 9.45. No-one had seen him except a solitary female cyclist who kept her distance and pedaled by as fast as she could. There had been the odd 'incident' on campus and Jim could not blame the girl for being cautious.

The trunk of the tree shielded him from the road. He leant against it, his heart pounding. And waited.

His eye caught sight of a light in the wood. Was it beckoning to him? Checking that the road was clear, he left the cover of the oak, and stepped into a thicket of smaller trees and bushes, following the light. Which maintained its distance. Watching his step, Jim followed, ten, twenty paces. The light had disappeared. Another pace, towards where it had been, and Jim made out a building, an outhouse, woodshed – something like that. Its door was ajar and a strip of light showed. Stumbling against a branch that did not give, Jim regained his balance and arrived at the door. Cautiously, he pushed it open.

A woodshed. He was supposed to spend a night with Angela in a woodshed?

Then he noticed the trap door and a flight of stairs leading down. He called out in a hoarse whisper 'Anyone around?'. No answer. Ok, so he was supposed to descend the stairs. They were of stone, and uneven. It felt creepy. At their base was a tunnel. Lights placed at intervals guided him as he made his way along it. He heard the trap door behind him fall into place. A moment of fright. No way now but forwards.

Another flight of stairs, upwards this time, brought him to an old wooden door. It was closed. He pushed. It did not give. He knocked.

"Codeword, please," came a muffled voice from the other side.

"JamesBond... I mean, BondJames," Jim said, clearing his throat.

The door creaked open. Jim stepped forwards, tripped over the bottom of the door, that wasn't door, and entered Kates headfirst.

"Should have warned you about that," said the Matron as Jim picked himself up. He was sure she was chuckling away to herself, even though no sign of this appeared on her face. I mean..... Headfirst!

"Welcome," the Matron said, as Jim dusted himself, unnecessarily. He'd fallen onto a thick pile carpet.

"Thank you! That's quite an elaborate...er..."

"Yes. Quite convenient don't you think. Who knows who built it, and why. No matter. It serves its purpose. I can imagine it's a bit unnerving first time."

"It is," Jim admitted.

"Well, you made it ok. Next time it'll be easy. Let's get you to your room."

"Oh, by the way," she continued, as Jim followed her along the corridor, "I'm Jane. The girls all call me 'Matron', but I hate that. I think sometimes that's why they do it."

"Here's your room," Jane said, throwing open the door. They both entered. The door closed behind them.

"I think you'll find everything here you're likely to need. There's whips and ties and things in those drawers in case you're into that kind of thing. Most of the girls aren't, but there's the odd few who like a spot of S&M. And there's a few more," she added darkly, "who could do with a good whipping, let me tell you that!"

There was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.

"Not my thing," Jim said.

"No! I didn't think so. But it's sometimes hard to tell with the strong and silent ones."

"Is that what I am?"

"In a way. You seemed so, last time we met. You were a bit tentative. Not like some, bragging and strutting. The girls are very careful who they invite, but they don't always get it right."

"Well I'm glad I made it."

"Yes. So am I. I think you'll enjoy it here. As 'stud of the month' – sorry, I know you don't like the terminology – you are entitled to a weekly visit. I hope you will make use of it."

"Absolutely," Jim said, with emphasis.

"Is this a good time for you? I mean, on a regular basis?"

"As good as any."

"Would it be all right if we enter this as a regular date? It's better if you do this because then we can keep a room free for you. The demand, if you will, exceeds the supply by a wide margin. If you leave it ad hoc there's always a danger you may have to miss a week, or perhaps two. Kates has been going for at least ten years, and many gentlemen remain in the area, or revisit after they have graduated. So you can imagine... I do hate disappointing people, but these days it's more often than not."

"Sure," Jim replied. "Let's make it regular."

"So we'll expect you every Tuesday at this time. You know how to get in. The door to the woodshed and the trapdoor will be open for you every Tuesday from 9.50 until 10.00. The codeword remains the same. Now you must warn us well in advance if you can't make an appointment."

"Sure," Jim repeated. "I surely will."

"Please be quite sure. One missed appointment, and you will be banned."

"I understand," Jim said.

"And of course, if no girl has signed up for you, you will be informed. So check your James Bond e-mail every Monday -- I thought that was so cute, by the way. James Bond." Jane chuckled to herself.

"Judging from what's reached my ears," she continued, in a confidential tone, "I think the girls will be signing for Tuesdays for quite some time to come. But you never know. Girls can be fickle."

Jim remained respectfully silent.