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Interruptus Completus

I really wanted to get into that particular fraternity. It was said to be the coolest one on campus, and I didn't know if there was anything I wouldn't do to get in. And I finally got an invitation to one of their after-game parties, a game our university had unexpectedly won. This victory was the first time we'd beaten our traditional rival in three years, a rival who ranked well above us in the predictions. The unexpectedness of all of this had probably been why the party got wild enough that the police had shown up and shut it down.

The frat house had quickly gotten on overload. The music was loud, and people were hanging from the ceiling and pressed up against each other so that even the dancers couldn't do much more than sway their hips without bruising someone else. I thought I'd hit the jackpot on my chances of getting a bid when a senior, Greg, who I knew to be the pledge chairman was thrown against me in a stuffed back hall. We were practically belly to belly, with me backed to the wall and he facing me, his arm stiff out above my shoulder to the wall, keeping those trying to muscle past us from crushing Greg into me. I was trying to impress him with my family's prominence and the good grade average and community service record I could bring to the fraternity, but all he seemed to be interested in talking about was sex on campus and how free everyone here was to experiment before they had to settle down in life. He'd given me a beer, which I really wasn't supposed to have, and we swigged as best we could between trying to make ourselves heard to each other over the loud music and the silly screaming around us.

He seemed to be getting crushed closer and closer into me, and I was feeling a little intimidated by the bulk of him and his bulging muscles pressing up against me, but in a titillating way I couldn't quite get a grip on. Then we heard the sirens.

I heard him say, "Oh, shit," and he grabbed the half-finished bottle of beer out of my hand and disappeared farther down the hall. But as he left me, I heard a distinct, "You. You and me later, Dude," thrown at me in his wake.

This seemed great news. If I impressed the pledge chairman, I'd likely get into the fraternity; if I didn't my chances weren't good. I couldn't sleep very well that night, and when I did get to sleep, I had strange dreams about that close encounter with Greg, which had been interrupted just when I thought I'd been making an impression on him. When I woke, I discovered I'd had a wet dream incident. But there wasn't anything strange about that for a healthy college freshman, so I didn't really think anything of it.

But I found I wasn't being able to study in the noisy dorm the next afternoon, and, without giving it much consideration, I had taken my books and papers to a picnic table at a little park across the street from the fraternity house I was trying to pledge. I think subconsciously I must have reasoned that maybe I'd be noticed by someone with clout in the fraternity and could do some politicking.

I thought that the view into the park was obscured from across the street, but when I sat down; I saw that I had a straight line of vision to the front of the fraternity house. I had been studying pretty intensely for a couple of hours, though, when I realized that the sound of running water was intruding into my mind. I looked over toward the fraternity house, and, to my consternation and slight exhilaration, I saw Greg, the house's pledge chairman.

He had his red Thunderbird convertible out in the circular drive in front of the fraternity house, and he was washing it with a bucket of soapy water and a garden house. I tried to return to my studies, but he was mesmerizing. His personal attraction, no matter his power position in the fraternity, could not be denied. He was stripped down to tight, low-cut latex biker's shorts and was barefoot. It was undeniable that he had a great body and fluid motions, just what a competing wrestler needed—and I knew he was a champion wrestler in his division. As he ran a sponge over the car hood and the canvas top, his muscles rippled. I watched as he stood up and pushed a blond curl back from his face. I think he must have seen me then.

He smiled invitingly, but I pretended I didn't see him. I don't know why; if I was honest with myself, I'd have realized that I came here explicitly to renew our talk about my pledge possibilities. He moved around to the other side of the car and did some more sponge work. He seemed to be flexing his muscles and doing stretches to loosen up his back more than was required to be washing a car. I felt something stirring below my belt. It couldn't be. I wasn't thinking about Greg in that way, was I? I just wanted his heavily weighted vote. But it occurred to me then that maybe I'd been fooling myself. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I put my hand in my lap and stroked myself through the silky basketball shorts I was wearing.

Greg came around to this side of his car. He leaned over the hood and shimmied his rear end as he rubbed the sponge over the car. His butt cheeks were well defined in the rider's shorts, and they were nicely rounded. He turned full toward me, lifted the hose over his head, arched his back, and just let the water stream over his blond hair and down across his solid, well-cut torso. I could see he was laughing. He threw the hose down, went out of sight briefly, presumably to cut off the water, and returned with a hand towel. He tossed his head back and forth to fling off the excess water and then slowly toweled himself down. He dropped the towel and languidly ran his hand over his pecs and his six pack and his belly and down to his basket. He stood stroking himself there, just as I was stroking myself where I sat, and then I saw him laugh and walk straight in my direction. I was glued to the spot by the shock that he was coming to me; I should have gotten up and hurriedly left in the other direction, but I just sat there, watching him come to me.

Greg sauntered up to the table and around to my side and leaned his butt into the edge of the table right next to me.

"Well, hello there, Stud. We didn't really get very far with our talk yesterday, did we? Glad you came by. If you hadn't, I'd have come looking for you."

"Why would you be looking for me?" I asked dumbly. I wasn't any brighter than any other college freshman. But I was pleased. He had remembered me well enough from the previous day to go looking for me. My chances at joining the fraternity seemed to be improving immensely.

"I felt we didn't really get to know each other yesterday before the cops broke up the party. And I would really like to get to know you better. I don't even remember your name. What's your name?"

I told him in a faltering voice. It was true that he couldn't very well champion my membership if he hadn't even remembered my name.

You would agree that it would be nice for us to know each other better?"

"Yes, of course," I answered. Absolutely, I thought. That's exactly what I'm after here.

"And I have a special reason to want to get to know you better," Greg said with a grin.

"A special reason?" Greg was beginning to lose me here.

"Yes, look. Here, look here." He had his hand on his basket. His cock was standing almost straight out, trying to get out of the confining tight latex. "Doesn't this explain why I'd want to get to know you better. You're one hot dude, and that cock of yours looks like it's a champion."

Wow! My mind exploded, and my brain went numb and into overdrive all at the same time. Boy were we ever on a different frequency. But then Greg showed me that maybe we weren't.

"And you want to get to know me better too, don't you . . .?," he said, all big smile and bulging basket. "What's your name again? Could it be Peter? See, Peter is wanting to know me better." And he reach down and tweaked the tented fabric in my lap. There was no doubt that he was having an effect on me. And, dumb me, I had been the last one to know about it.

"I . . . I think I'd better go," I squeaked out and started to gather up my books and rise from the bench. But Greg was too fast for me. He quickly and fluidly swiveled behind me and swung his left leg around me; sitting right behind me, with me scooted up to the front edge of the bench and him barely on the back edge. I was trapped with him behind and on either side of me and the picnic table digging to my belly. He wrapped his arms around me and gave a sigh. I could feel his insistent cock trapped between his body and the small of my back.

"Listen, Greg. I'm not really . . ."

"You want to get it this fraternity, don't you? As I told you yesterday, this is a pretty freewheeling campus, and our fraternity is the best one here, the one with the best men. In every way, if you know what I mean. If you want to get along here, you're going to need to go along. Besides, you can't hide your interest in me. I can see it there in your shorts."

"Look, Greg. Yes I want to get into your fraternity and would do almost anything to do so, but I've never. . . . I've had no experience in . . ."

"Screw experience. Experience can be overrated. I like you just the way you are, fresh and ripe—and with a big cock." He wasn't wasting time; his right hand drifted down the front of my T-shirt, went between my belly and the waistband of my shorts, found my cock, and started teasing and stroking it.

"Greg. I'm not going to . . ."

"Sure you are," Greg said in a steely voice. "Sure you are, but I'd much rather it was because you wanted to." With his left hand he pushed my shorts down in the back so that they were half-way down my butt cheeks, and he released his cock from his latex biker's shorts and let it run itself up the top of my butt crack and onto the small of my back. Then, with his left hand, he reached around and gently pushed my face to the side.

"Kiss me. We didn't get to kiss yesterday, and it's been driving me crazy wondering how you taste."

"No, Greg, I don't want . . ."

"Hey, haven't you had the basic logic course here yet? How do you know you don't want to until you've tried it? It's just logic." Then he laughed and gave me a million-dollar smile, which moved to my lips. He started with a sweet lips-only kiss but moved into a more open, deeply probing kiss. He was still stroking my cock, and I put my hand over his there, on the outer side of the material and moved with him. He was stroking his hardened cock up and down along my butt crack in back, dry fucking me there. He brought his hand out of my crotch and, with both hands, pulled my T-shirt up and off me and threw it to the side. His hands were flying all over my arm muscles, my pits, pecs, nipples, navel, belly, and back down to stroking my cock. With a sigh, I lifted my butt a bit more, and he pulled my pants down further, and continued dry fucking up my crack and onto the small of my back, this time with more cleavage to stroke in. I must admit I expected him to try to enter me from that position, both fearing and getting a little thrill from the anticipation. I was, however, marshaling my strength to try to fight him off, but before he could get around to that, he had cum up the small of my back in a jerk and jackoff that probably surprised him as much as me.

"See what you do to me?" he whispered in my ear while he was nibbling it. "You are delicious. The best bod I've seen on this campus in some time. I've never gotten off with just a dry fuck before."

Then he was up like a jack rabbit. "On the table. Get up there and lay down on the table."

"That's enough Greg. You got your rocks off. I've got to study."

"On the table—now, pledge! Listen to that. If you want into the fraternity, you're going to have to respond immediately to a demand like this from the pledge chairman." He swept my books off the top of the picnic table, grabbed me by the elbow and hurried me along. I lay down the length of the table, trying to be careful not to get my ass anywhere near an edge. When I was lying down, he stripped off my shorts and then his own. He had quite a formidable cock, if not either as long or thick as mine, I must say. All in all, he had a beautiful body, and, in spite of my misgivings, I now ached for him. He knelt on the bench beside my hips and gave me suck while letting his hands roam around the rest of my body. I moaned and squirmed under his attention. Without my really realizing it, my hand sought out his cock, and I stroked him. In answer, he rose off the bench and positioned himself in a 69 position, and, for the first time in my life, I found myself kissing, licking, and sucking another man's dick. He tasted salty and had a strong male smell, but I didn't find this unpleasant. I started to mimic doing to his cock what he was doing to mine. After a while, he moved so that I was presented with his asshole rather than his cock, and, instinctively, I moistened him up there and explored him with my lips and my tongue. He writhed above me, giving deep sighs and moans.

When I had him moistened up real well, he rose and turned and straddled me from above. With one hand holding my cock in place, he lifted his hips and then slowly came down on me, impaling his own ass with my cock. In, in I went. It was somewhat like with a woman, but it seemed tighter. He buried his hands in my chest hair, finding and working my nipples, while he slowly pumped himself. I found I was joining his rhythm, and then he lifted his hips off me a good six inches.

"You pump," he said, "you fuck me. Fuck me hard and deep."

I took over the pelvis action, sending my engorged dick up into him as far as it would go and then withdrawing half way and plunging up again. He was moaning and groaning and we both went into a wild pumping action. I had one hand wrapped around his cock now and was pumping that in rhythm to the wild tune we were playing in his ass. We came almost simultaneously. Me, pulling out of him and shooting up his belly and he shooting off up mine. He collapsed on top of me, taking my arms above my head with my wrists in his strong grasp. He kissed me long and deep and arched up a bit to permit him to kiss and nibble his way down my neck and to my nipples.

When I was truly relaxed and close to drifting off to sleep, he came off me and the picnic table top. With a laugh, he pulled his biking shorts back on.

"That was what I wanted, Sport. Thanks. Don't, worry, with a dick like that, you shouldn't have any trouble getting a bid from the fraternity. Of course, you would enhance your chances if you helped finish washing my Thunderbird over there. And then, maybe later today, I'll show you what my other bird can do inside you. If you pledge our fraternity, your ass is mine. And both you and I know there'll be a next time. Ciao, Baby."

And he turned and strutted back to his red Thunderbird and his fraternity house, leaving me there, stretched out on the top of the picnic table, alone, and wondering just how much of "almost anything" I'd really do to get into this fraternity.

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