Fraternity Party Surprise

I was more than twenty years older than my girlfriend. That always bothered me, but whenever I'd mention it, Marie just say,

"You're just being silly! Besides, I told you, I like older men."

Still, I'd think about it. No, actually, I was brooding. I wasn't introduced to her parents. Hell, we were the same age, and Marie wasn't going to shock them anymore. (When she was seventeen, she nearly did them in by bringing home a thirty-two year old boyfriend.) Besides, she may have liked older guys, but I didn't think her friends would approve of me. She pointed out that she didn't have any friends her own age. She didn't have younger friends because they were,

"Too immature. Especially the guys! I don't feel I have to housebreak anyone. You're housebroken. You were someone else's problem."

And she was right. Marie was always right.

Marie was socially mature way beyond her twenty-nine years, but she had a figure and freshness that made her look, well, like a teenager, at times. What a combination we made. She'd get carded and, at 52, I looked like I should get a senior discount. (She pointed out that I actually had gotten a senior rate at a motel -- I hadn't even noticed.) She seemed to think our age difference was no problem. I wondered, from time-to-time, whom else had she dated? How old were they? No matter how long we had been together, I only got a few hints about her past. I knew she kept more than a few secrets.

What did we have in common? Well, for one, we could fuck like teenagers, literally. Actually, we both fucked better than we had when we were teenagers, but the similarity was there. Fucking beyond the point that you need to fuck. Fucking until we were both sore, and then doing it some more. It was like that every time we got together. When we weren't fucking, we ate, we took in movies and we went to the theatre. We'd return satiated, but we'd fucked again anyway. We didn't see each other all that often, but it wasn't the pent-up frustration, it was just that it felt so damn good we couldn't resist.

I thought she was a genius at lovemaking. She brought out things in me that I never knew were there. I could never quite put my finger on it. If I thought about it, I'd say that her sexual prowess was her ability to trick me. She made me feel like it was I that was seducing her -- that I could seduce her from that mature, brilliant, genius self, and bring her down to the level of animal sex. It was kind of like conking cavewoman over the head. She'd let me drag her around the bed -- hell, around the room. No piece of furniture and no part of her body went unused during sex, and she'd never say a word. She'd just get that blissful, wanton look in her eyes, and she was off in NeverNeverLand.

Was it her? Was it me? Whatever it was, I figured it was my job to get her to that point -- to the point where she let her hair down. It helped when I would take her away for a few days at a time. I was more comfortable out-of-town. She probably was, too. We could let the inhibitions go, you know, go to places where no one knew us. Where we could do anything. Over time, we seemed to be pursuing a theme of visiting old haunts: Other places that she had lived, cities where she had worked, where she went to school -- that sort of thing. I wanted to know about her. Where did she come from? What was her past? How did she come to be who she was?

Her youthful appearance had made a trip back to her college town a must-do for me. In anticipation of the trip, I had savored the fantasy of her as the nubile coed, me the horny professor. We actually took that trip, but as you'll see, it turned out quite differently than I had expected. Apparently, Marie had her own fantasies. It hadn't occurred to me that, if she had always been with older guys, then she hadn't really experienced younger guys. But she was about to.

We took the trip to her college town. I booked a room at a hotel on the edge of campus adjacent to the stately old sorority and fraternity houses. In that sense, it wasn't nostalgic. Neither she, nor I, could ever have afforded such digs, nor had we fraternized with students. She had worked throughout college, and she had gotten out of the dormitory within her first six-months. But, now, we walked the campus, we visited the theatre, the library, and the commons as if we were back in the old days. We'd return to the hotel and we'd do our usual fucking, although there was nothing usual about it. It was fucking intense. As I said, the more we did it, the more we wanted.

We needed a breather. We went to a movie. As we returned home, I noted that it was Friday, and that we had barely seen any students. They weren't in the library. There were only a few on campus. They weren't at the movies.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Students don't go to school on Fridays anymore. Thursday night starts the weekend partying."

"Ah! That's what the whooping and hollering was last night."

As we turned the corner toward our hotel, I heard it again. People were coming and going into the frat houses. There were sounds of parties inside. I liked the atmosphere of people enjoying themselves. I made a suggestion,

"Let's join a party. Why not? We were here to play, after all."

I didn't think she'd do it. Although I might barge in uninvited, it wasn't Marie's style. Still, I liked the idea. I knew I might look too old, but I figured she'd be my passport. They'd never know how old she was.

Marie just laughed and said,

"I'd need some rum!"

The hotel was quiet -- except for us. (I'd hate to be adjacent to our room in the middle of the night.) The noise outside got louder as the night got longer, but it was never obnoxious. It was actually quite a turn-on for me -- the thought of all those people getting drunk and getting laid.

Marie wasn't in the same mood. She was getting grouchy. We made love anyway, but we didn't fall asleep. I didn't know what to do to shake her out of her mood. I didn't know if it was something I had done, or something I hadn't done. I suggested, feebly, that we could get up and check out the nearest party.

That's when she said, in a pouting tone of voice,

"It's not nice of you to take your girlfriend to a party without getting her drunk first!"

I see! She knows more about the etiquette of coed dating than I do.

"Ah, the rum! I didn't get you any rum."

I hadn't taken her request seriously. I hadn't put two-and-two together, but I knew how to handle a situation like this. No apology would do. Nope. I just put on my clothes and said,

"I'll be right back."

I walked -- no, I sprinted -- the few blocks to a liquor store that we had passed. I got rum. I vaguely remembered her mentioning rum and cokes from her college days, and I threw a 6-pack in the basket. I was back in the hotel in a jiffy.

She was impressed. And she drank. I knew from experience that she tended to drink in moderation, so I mixed the first drink half-and-half. It was foul (I couldn't drink it) but Marie said, to my surprise,

"The second drink won't be so bad."

I thought: You little vixen! You do know how to get yourself drunk. What else do you know? What secrets would a little drunkenness unlock, I wondered.

Three drinks almost finished the half-pint, and I had barely touched it. She was going to be more than just a little drunk, and I was going to be sober. I wanted to keep my wits about me. This was getting interesting -- very unlike her to let her hair down in public, but that was the point, right? Marie said,

"We'd better go while I can still walk."

It wasn't a long walk. The house just two doors over had the door open and people came and went freely. We walked right in. No one blinked. I felt right at home. At first, it was like any party I'd ever been to. People were standing around in every room of the house. People were going back and forth to get drinks. There was plenty of beer, wine, and hard liquor -- whatever your tastes. There were relatively few women, I noticed, but the ones that were there were loud and having fun with all the male attention. I pointed this out to my girlfriend as we stood in the crowded room.

"More guys than gals, eh? More fun for you," I joked.

Marie just nodded as she surveyed the room. The room was very crowded. Guys came by and jostled us as they tried to move through the crowd without spilling their drinks. Eventually, someone spilled some down the back of her dress. She shrugged, and said,

"It'll wash right out."

Ah, it hadn't bothered her! She was in a good mood. I told her that I'd get us some drinks. She said,

"I don't need anymore."

"Just to hold in our hands," I said.

"Good idea," she yelled over the surrounding noise.

I asked the guys next to us to point the way. They were slow to grasp the question. Like, this was a Fraternity, who-the-hell wouldn't know where the liquor was? (And, they were probably thinking, who-the-hell was this gray-haired guy, anyway.) They started checking out Marie. I was irrelevant. I headed off for the drinks.

You meet interesting people in unexpected places. There was a guy serving drinks, but it was an open bar -- he just liked to act like a bartender. He was good at the patter. I wasn't drunk like the others, and that gave him the opportunity to showoff to someone that could appreciate his wit and skill. He latched on to me like we had known each other for years.

By the time I broke away and returned with the drinks, I had lost my landmarks. People had shifted places, no one was in the same spot. In fact, no one looked familiar. Above all, I had lost Marie. She was not in the middle of the room. I circulated with the two drinks in hand. Nowhere to be found! On the other hand, there were lots of places to check out. She couldn't have gone far. I checked the porch. She might have been uncomfortable alone, and she might have gone outside to wait for me. Not on the porch. I lingered there in case she was on the lawn and could see me but I couldn't see her. Nothing. I went inside.

A woman said, in a sexy voice,

"Is that for me?"

I realized that she meant the drink. I said, graciously,

"Yes," and I handed it to her.

I wanted to give her both of them. I kept moving, but she grabbed my sleeve, and said,

"Wait!"

I kept going. I was a little desperate now to find my Marie. I knew she'd be pissed that I was gone that long. I checked each room in an efficient manner. My head was clear. I was getting more and more certain that she wasn't there. I re-entered the main room.

"Who are you looking for?"

It was the young woman -- the girl that I had given a drink to. I said that I was looking for my girlfriend.

"What's her name?" she asked.

I thought to myself, no one knows our names, how will that help? I asked some guys around me if they had seen the girl I came with. They gave me a look, like, what a dumbfuck! When I repeated my request, both of them began to gesture as they looked around them. One of them said,

"Most of the girls are already busy upstairs."

It made the "girls" sound like prostitutes. Maybe they were. It took me a moment, but I figured out what they meant. If there were no girls down here, it meant they were upstairs with their dates in the bedrooms fucking their brains out. But where was my girlfriend Marie?

"What's her name?"

The bimbo was talking to me again.

"Marie," I said, just to get her off my back.

"She's upstairs," she said matter-of-factly.

I said, sarcastically, "Yeah, riiight!"

She said, "No, really." She was serious.

I got serious. Now, I felt guilty for ignoring this Good Samaritan.

"She was talking to a couple of guys and I heard her say that her name was Marie."

"Thanks," I said, and I began to head off.

For the second time that night, she grabbed my sleeve. I thought: I'm really being a prick, and this woman is clearly attracted to me or she is trying to help me, or both. She said,

"I'll go with you!"

That statement gave me a sense of foreboding. It made the upstairs sound like an ominous place: A place where you needed company. One did not go up there alone, and she was willing to accompany me. And there was a sexual charge to it, too.

She was physically close to me as we climbed the stairs. I began to notice that she was cute, she was confident, and that she was definitely a coed. This was her territory, her environment, and she had latched on to me. I was aware that we looked like a couple as far as anyone down below was concerned. She was might have well have been my date. Others would assume that we were going upstairs to fuck. It didn't mean anything to them. It was just what people do. Better introduce myself.

"By the way, my name is ..."

She interrupted and finished my sentence for me, "Mr. Buckley, I know, from the hotel down the street. I'm Deirdre."

Huh? Where did she pick that up from? Deirdre and I were now halfway up the stairs. I realized that Marie had climbed these stairs with two guys, not just one guy. She was one up on this girl. Then it hit me. Marie went up these stairs with two guys and they probably had the same idea as this girl. They were going up to fuck! I picked up my speed.

Deirdre said,

"Wait up!"

At the top of the stairs I was again confronted with the fact that it was a large house, only these weren't open rooms. There were closed doors everywhere. I went down a corridor. I must have looked confused. Fortunately, Deirdre wasn't. She said,

"We have to find a room," and she opened the nearest door, looked, closed it, and opened the next door.

I did the same, only I was looking for my Marie, whereas Deirdre seemed to be looking for an available bed. She found one, and said,

"Here!"

I looked in and I saw a bed. Only one-half of it was unoccupied. The other half, and most of the furniture in the room, was populated by naked sweaty men and women in various sexual poses. The room smelled wonderfully like sex. No one seemed to notice that the door was open, or to notice our stares. I backed out of the room. Deirdre gave me a look, like: What's wrong with you? I hated to disappoint her, but I had to say it:

"I want to find my girlfriend."

As it turned out, my apologetic feeing was misplaced. Her eyes widened, and she said,

"Sure!" like she had just agreed to a threesome.

I thought, life is strange. I couldn't arrange a threesome if I tried. Now, I had a willing woman, and I was too distracted to use her. More importantly, easily thirty minutes had transpired since I last saw Marie. I was beginning to worry that she might have left, and I was concerned that she would be scared or really pissed off.

Deirdre started opening and closing doors with zeal. She opened another door and went inside. This time she didn't come out. I went in. It took a bit for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Deirdre, fully clothed, was right in front of me, but she was in an embrace with a naked guy. To the side, Marie, stark naked, was lying on a bed with two guys, one of whom was pounding the shit out of her pussy. I was astounded. A startling new side to Marie -- and quite unsettling. I started over there in a hurry. Deirdre grabbed me for the third time that evening, and I finally got the message: Listen to her.

Deirdre disengaged from the naked guy and she started undressing me. Ah, when in Rome do as the Romans do. She held my cock as she pulled down my pants. She kneeled and sucked on my cock as she pulled down my underwear. Hmm, Marie isn't the only woman that likes older guys, I thought. My cock was being sucked with relish. I was in heaven. She sucked it deep. She sucked it slow. She sucked it fast. I'd describe Deirdre's attention as worship. I thought: What's the attraction for young women? I hope it isn't Daddy's cock that they're sucking! Whatever it was, I was getting drawn into it. I tried to keep an eye on Marie, but I was getting lost in the deliciousness of this bitch's mouth.

Now, another similarity was apparent between my new date and my girlfriend: They were both on their knees servicing a guy. Deirdre was letting me fuck her wet, sloppy mouth and, now Marie was on her knees sucking off a guy sitting on a chair next to the bed. (I think it was the other guy -- they all looked the same to me.)

One guy was rolling off the bed while another guy (a third guy!) was getting on the bed. That guy reached from the bed and tugged at Marie gesturing toward his hard-on. She started to get up, but the guy in the chair grabbed her head and held his cock in her mouth. Marie hates to have her head held when she's giving head, but that guy couldn't have known that. Her hands went around the base of his cock to keep it from going down her throat. Despite her efforts, that cock was jabbing pretty far in. At one point, she gagged, and then she pulled back violently and said, "Gak!"

It didn't faze the guy. He had her head bobbing on his cock again. Her initial discomfort seemed to give way under his guidance. Marie started to look remarkably comfortable and compliant while this guy fucked her mouth. She said "Gak!" every once in a while, but it looked like she was just as intent as he was to keep that cock in her mouth -- she just didn't want it too far back in her throat.

Meanwhile, for me, it felt like Deirdre actually did have my cock down her throat. I looked down and saw her lips down to my pubic hair, and her face was tight against my belly. She didn't move for a long time. She hummed. Interesting, I thought. I hadn't asked her to do that. She did it because she wanted to. Then I thought I saw fingers in her hair. It wasn't a hallucination. The naked guy behind her held her head in his hands.

I realized, belatedly, that he had been forcing her head to bob up and down on my cock and down her throat while I had been looking over at Marie. He had held Deirdre's mouth down to my pubics! I looked at him, and he looked at Marie, and then down at Deirdre, and he grinned. I think he would have given me the thumbs up sign, but he never took his hands off Deirdre's head. Instead, he started moving her head faster and faster. A guy was jerking me off using some bimbo's head! This was unreal. And then he stopped, but, fortunately, Deirdre kept going. She was going for my cum, and she could probably tell it wasn't far away.

The naked guy moved off toward the action on the bed. I thought: He's going to screw Marie, but, no, he went behind her. Then, like with Deirdre, he grabbed Marie's head and started forcing her mouth up and down on the seated guy's cock. Uh-oh, I thought, she's not going to like that!

I know my girlfriend, and I know that she'd get her hands around that cock real fast so that she didn't get choked. He was shoving her so hard, though, it looked like her mouth was getting forced over her own hand. She took her hands away and put them on the guy's legs to steady herself as she tried to get up. The naked guy shoved her head down again. This time the cock must have gone down her throat, because there was no place else for it to go. My girlfriend looked ridiculous: Throat and mouth pinned on a cock, butt up in the air, legs trying to stand. Marie convulsed. She came up for air and spluttered. Her head was shoved down again. More convulsing. Up again. More spluttering.

The naked guy was in camaraderie with the guy on the chair: He was doing this for the guy's pleasure -- just as he had for me -- he didn't care about Marie's discomfort. He said something to the other guy, like:

"Nothing like the sensation of girl-twitch while you cum!"

Marie was half kneeling, half standing when the guy seated before her started to cum. He didn't cum in her throat because she had come up for air at the same time that the guy was cumming. He shot a long arc, as only a young guy can. As it landed, a thick white line stretched across her nose, touched one eyebrow, continued across her forehead, over the top of her head, down the back of her hair, and onto her shoulder blades. I know she doesn't like cum on her face. She winced and she screwed up her face. She shut her eyes tightly. She reacted vocally, but it was hard to describe the sounds that she made as the hot cum landed on her. But she didn't move. She just kind of froze and took that spray of cum. That surprised me, but then again, a lot of things she was doing tonight surprised me.