Total Frat Move

by W. R. Bolen

  By the spring of my freshman year I was so used to closing on girls that if I didn’t end up back in my bed post-party with a 7 or better I considered the night a failure. It had even become the norm to get some mid-party action, like a dance floor over-the-pants handjob (OTPHJ).

  In the middle of a spring rush party at the Alpha house, I ended up in a heated sexual dance-off with a girl named Britney. She was a skinny, tan, blonde Kappa and I badly needed to tap that. After locking eyes across the crowded dance floor she wiggled her way over to me, and just a few songs later we stumbled out the door toward my dorm.

  Like the Karate Kid before Mr. Miyagi, I lacked experience, but possessed raw talent. We were both freshmen, we were both shitfaced, and we both wanted something good to tell our friends the next day. After she finished a few minutes of dry handjob pumping during a makeout session with too much tongue, she slid off her thong and said, “You can if you want,” with one eyebrow raised and an innocent smile on her face.

  “I can what?” I asked like the complete fucking dumbass I am.

  “You know…” she said playfully.

  I looked deep into her eyes and said, “You’re the girl I came to college to find.”

  She flung her thong across the room and pulled me on top of her by the back of my head. I awkwardly poked my dick around between her legs as her eyes widened with anticipation, and finally she reached down to guide me inside. A quick mental note was filed away in my brain that she was not only girl no. 4 to feel little Townes inside her, but also that she was my first Kappa. Knowing that I’d gained another belt-notch of bragging rights and checked a new sorority off my list made me swell with pride both literally and figuratively. She felt it, and smiled up at me in contentment, which caused me to totally lose my cool, and I immediately started jackhammering away like a rabbit having an epileptic seizure.

  I squeezed her right boob like a stress ball with one hand while the other rested on the bed, awkwardly close to her left hand, and as she inched her fingers closer to mine I could tell she wanted me to hold it. She moaned, arched her back, and whispered my name, sending my heart rate through the roof and increasing the speed of my humping. I made eye contact with her for a second, and awkwardly looked away as fast as possible, which I immediately regretted.

  I was running my train full speed ahead down the tracks with no brakes. There was no fucking way I was switching positions. This was a straight missionary onslaught. She sighed with pleasure, grabbed my ass hard with both hands, and started moaning my name loudly in my ear.

  “TOWNES! TOWNES!”

  I desperately tried to think of something hot to say, but drew a blank. Then “It feels really good” rushed out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to process how stupidly honest that sounds.

  I put both my hands above her shoulders and locked my arms out, basically in push-up position, giving myself a solid view of her boobs as they bounced from my super-speed pelvic humping, and conveniently distancing myself from her nonstop shrieking of my name.

  “TOWNES! TOWNES! TOWNES!” she yelled.

  I was getting close to a penile volcanic eruption, so I tried to occupy my mind by reciting the presidents of the United States I could remember. She must’ve been able to feel me getting close, because she looked me in the eye and whispered sweetly, “Make sure you pull out.” I was trying to time my exit and hold the money shot as long possible with my remembrance of American history when, at the exact same second I got to Reagan on my list of presidents, Monte drunkenly stumbled in the door. “Daddy is home!” he yelled right as Britney slapped my ass. I erupted like Mount Vesuvius inside her, awkwardly staring over at Monte with a look of horror on my face while I came. I frantically pulled out and rolled over off her, but the damage was done.

  “God damn it, Townes, that’s not okay!” she yelled. “Fucking idiot!”

  She pushed me off her and started dabbing herself with my bedsheet like that was going to fix anything. Monte slurred, “Well, that was fucking weird,” and passed out face first on his bed. I sat up, awkwardly squished up against the wall, and tried to apologize to Britney, but she didn’t want to hear it and walked to the bathroom to clean up.

  When she got back she shook her head and said, “Do you know how lucky you are that I’m on birth control?” before kissing me on the cheek and rolling over to sleep. I lay next to her with one arm folded behind my head, too satisfied with how fucking awesome the night was to occupy my mind with the fact that my performance was totally Busch League. If I could spend every night like this but it had to end with Monte busting in as I crossed the finish line, I would be okay with that.

  That’s when I knew I was a rookie in the game of sexual dominance, and the learning had only just begun.

  Stage 2: Overcoming Obstacles

  After a camo-themed mixer during the fall of my sophomore year, I ended up inside the Tri Delt house with a blonde senior who had legs like a runway model. Spending the night inside a sorority house was like breaking into a fucking casino vault. Even if you managed to sneak in without security or the house mom noticing, you still had to avoid all the other girls in the house on the way to her bedroom, because one of those cock-blocking gossip queens was bound to rat you out. This girl was hot as fuck, and twenty-one years old. This story was already worthy of sharing at my next chapter meeting before it even developed.

  Too bad I couldn’t remember her name. I was at least fourteen drinks and 20 millis of Adderall deep, so my brain and dick were in full mutiny against me. Is it Kimmy? Kristen? My mind raced as I took her pants off with one hand and tried to wake my dick up with the other. Adderall-dick is a real problem with no known cure.

  It was 3:45 a.m. and my face was painted like Charlie Sheen’s in Platoon. I was wearing a camouflage bandana around my forehead, and combat boots. That was all. She was as naked as the day she was born, with black and green stripes painted up and down both arms, and eye black, which was smudged down her face thanks to alcohol and party sweat. She was a smoking-hot drunk 8, probably a sober 7, but even as she orally embraced my balls I couldn’t remember her damn name.

  My epic battle with whiskey/Adderall dick continued. We silently strategized what to try next with sign language as she repeatedly reminded me with one finger across her lips that I had to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake up her roommate. For the better part of a half hour I struggled valiantly, switching between receiving a seriously impressive blowie from this incredibly understanding woman and thwacking my soft dong between her legs in search of an entryway. She had obviously dealt with her fair share of beer penis over the years, and was pulling out all the stops to make absolutely sure she got laid. Even on blowjob attempt no. 4 she hadn’t lost a bit of her energy.

  As she violently bobbed her head, desperate to breathe life back into my dick, I considered telling her to stop and throwing in the towel. That’s when I looked over and noticed her roommate lying on her side in bed, watching us. And she wasn’t just watching, she was staring right at me and licking her lips with a look that sent shivers through my entire body, instantly causing me to become rock hard. She had just done what science had failed to do since the dawn of Adderall.

  How I had managed to stumble into the room dressed like a wasted G.I. Joe and not even take a glance at the insanely attractive brunette sleeping in the bed just a few feet away is beyond me. To my knowledge I’d never had anyone watch me hook up, but apparently I loved it. The girl whose mouth my manhood currently inhabited and whose name I had forgotten gave a moan of approval. I snapped into action, threw her legs over my shoulders, and slid home. This was the most turned on I had ever been in my life.

  She wrapped her legs around me and I looked back over at the roommate, who was sucking her middle finger like a Popsicle. She switched to her pointer finger, then ran them both slowly down her stomach below the sheets. In my completely smashed state of mind I wondered if it was possible that I had created the roommate in some alcohol/amphetamine hallucinati
on, and if I should invite the possible mirage sorosty to join in. I looked down at the girl I was inside of, and she started to turn her head, presumably to check if her roommate was awake. I grabbed her by the chin and kissed her to keep her focus on me. She grabbed for one of her pillows and pressed it to her face, moaning into it as I stroked away while never breaking my wide-eyed staredown with the roommate as she bit her bottom lip and fingered herself.

  After a couple minutes I flipped her over into doggie style and she put her face back into the pillow to stay quiet. Her sexy-ass roommate was squeezing her tits with one hand while the other kept busy beneath the sheet. My dick had reached diamond status, and Kristen (?) thought it was all because of her. I winked at her roommate, and she shivered noticeably, aggressively sliding her other hand beneath the sheet as well.

  I was laying some serious pipe, with one hand on each of her hips pulling her back into me. She seemed to be enjoying the position, and I turned to check on her roommate again. The possibly crazy nympho was now completely uncovered and shamelessly touching herself with both knees up and her toes curled down. She stared into my eyes again, her mouth agape with pleasure as she worked her fingers faster and faster toward orgasm, and she was taking me right along with her.

  But without warning, the girl whose name I was pretty sure started with a K turned and caught her roommate staring at me and masturbating.

  “Danielle, what the fuck!” She pushed me off her, pulling the covers over us both. “Ughhhh, why do you always do this?” she yelled up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Jim,” she groaned in disgust.

  “Who the hell is Jim?” I asked. “I’m Townes.” She ignored me.

  I looked over at the roommate, but to my disappointment she had rolled over and was pretending to be asleep.

  “Look, Townes, you should probably go,” she said. “I’m really sorry, but it’s just better if you just go.”

  “Yeah, uh, we should do this again,” I said as I pulled my camo pants up over my throbbing boner.

  On the way out of the house I gave zero fucks if anyone saw me or not. I whistled as I strolled down the hallway and passed one girl coming out of the restroom in her night slip. She rolled her eyes at me and ducked back into the bathroom to wait until I passed. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as the experience sunk in, and I made my way down the stairs to the exit. Could I have pulled off the threesome if I’d played my cards right? I would never know. The house’s alarm beeped twice as I walked out, and then I slammed the door as hard as I could to purposely cause some middle-of-the-night sorority drama.

  I still had a lot to learn.

  Stage 3: Finding Mr. Miyagi

  It was Spring Break in Panama City my junior year. I was twenty. She was nineteen and went to Ole Miss. We obviously both had great fake IDs, and after we locked eyes at the bar I walked over to her.

  “I’m Townes, and those guys you’re with are complete douchebags.”

  “I’m not really with them,” she said. “My friends already went home to crash. I’m Kelli.”

  “Well, Kelli, you should come drink with me and my friends. We’re not douchebags and we don’t wear sparkly Ed Hardy shirts, plus we have a hot tub.”

  An hour later we were getting out of a cab in front of my house, where everyone else was already passed out or slamming in their respective rooms. Three minutes after that she was pulling her skintight dress off and getting into the hot tub wearing black boy-shorts and a red-laced bra that screamed, I knew someone would fuck my brains out tonight. She had long brown hair and the kind of tits that cause flat, jealous girls to beg their dad for a boob job. I was wearing boxers covered in little sailboats that screamed, I’m in a frat, play with my dick.

  After a few fun rounds of slap-the-bag wine chugging and some flirty touching, I went in for the kill. Immediately I could tell that this girl knew what she was doing. She wasn’t making out with me like it was a fun drunk hookup; she was making out with me like it was the apocalypse, the world was crumbling around us, and she intended to go out with a bang. She straddled me, took off her bra, and let it sink away beneath the bubbling hot water. I buried my face in her chest and she grabbed the bag of wine off the hot tub, slapped it, and took a mouthful while I motorboated her fantastic boobage. At that moment I wanted to marry her.

  Then she took it to a whole other level.

  “Are you ready for this?” she asked as she handed me the bag of wine.

  “Born ready,” I responded without any idea what I was in store for.

  The next thing I knew she was submerged, ripped my boxers off, and started performing the greatest amateur underwater fellatio in the history of man. I did the only thing I could do and took a swig of wine to keep my brain from short-circuiting due to sensory overload. Her legs floated up behind her as she passionately worked but somehow never came up for air. I had become a human snorkel.

  A minute passed as I sat in pleasure with my jaw dropped. King Henry VIII would’ve decapitated all the women in En-gland for that treatment. She came up for a quick oxygen refill gasp and then went back under without a word. Another minute passed and I saw her black boy-shorts float up next to me. I don’t even know how, but she took off her fucking undies without losing blowjob rhythm… all while underwater.

  In one fluid motion she resurfaced and pounced, wrapping her legs around me like a sexual spider monkey. She started riding me like she had been training for that moment her entire life while watching all of Shakira’s music videos on repeat. This girl knew things, things that I needed to learn, and I intended on letting her teach me.

  She leaned forward to my ear and whispered, “Bend me over.” I obliged. Then she turned her head back and said, “Pull my hair.” I was in heaven. For at least a half hour she whispered commands and I willfully obeyed like a good student should.

  “Fuck me faster.” Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “Spank me, Daddy.” Hell yeah, you’re a bad girl.

  “Put your finger in my ass.” Sweet.

  “Pour wine down my chest and drink it off.” Thank you, Jesus.

  “Choke me.” Why not?

  “Harder!” Please don’t die.

  “Slap me.” Forgive me, Jesus.

  “Bend me over the balcony.” Done.

  “Let’s fuck on the beach.” Time to get sandy.

  We both grabbed towels, headed down the stairs, and stumbled toward the beach, sloppily making out the whole hundred yards. When we were close to the ocean she jumped onto my back and wrapped her legs around me, sending us both to the sand. She unwrapped the towel from my waist and started riding me reverse cowgirl, screaming toward the ocean while I stared up at the stars and wondered if life would ever be this good again. When I couldn’t take it anymore I flipped her around and got on top of her to complete the manifesto. I pulled out when I was about to finish so I could make a little castle on the sand, but she gave me one last whisper.

  “Go on my face.”

  Afterwards we washed off in the ocean and headed back to the house, where we sat in two beach chairs on the porch, shared half a joint she had in her purse, and watched the sun come up. I had broken through to a new level of sexual illumination.

  Stage 4: Showing Off Enlightenment

  It was the fall of my first senior year, and I was at J’s Piano Bar, a favorite of the Greek community. I ran into a psychotic ex-slam from my second semester named Katherine. We broke up after she ransacked my room, keyed my car, and blew a senior because she accused me of dancing with one of her sisters during a foam party. She was in her third consecutive long-term relationship with a bottom-tier douchebag. I decided this was as good a time as any to make a run at her, because I was wasted, the piano man was playing “Piano Man,” and her boyfriend, bottom-tier Billy, was nowhere to be seen.

  “We’re having a huge after-party at the frat castle. You in?”

  She naughtily raised one eyebrow and said, “Sure, I’ll come by for a little.”

  “Awesome.” I sm
iled seductively at her. “It’s been too long since we hung out.”

  Thirty minutes later we were up against the wall in the frat castle hallway and she was trying to suck my tongue out of my mouth. She thought she was just cheating her way onto the same dick she knew years ago, but I was about to put on a fucking clinic.

  We vertically barrel-rolled down the hall wall while I tried not to spill my beer until we hit my door. I turned the knob and Katherine fell in onto my floor. She laughed, I laughed, and then I decided to let her know it was game time. I picked her up and threw her onto my bed like a Viking warrior claiming his bride, then chugged what was left of my beer and spiked it to the floor. She gazed up at me like a forbidden fruit that she desperately wanted a bite of.

  We raced to see who could get naked first. Before she could even get her bra off I strapped on a condom for safe measure and was inside her. She let out a moan of relief like she had missed me for a lifetime. I was just getting started.

  She wrapped her legs around me and I picked her up off the bed and carried her to my dresser while still inside her, pressed play on my iPod dock, and reached for a bottle of vodka.

  “Want a shot?”

  She nodded quickly over and over while her breathing turned to hyperventilation. I took a swig, held it in my mouth, and then fed it to her like a famished baby bird while continuing my upward-thrusting rhythm. Then we dove back into each other’s faces tongue first and I began writing the sexual equivalent to Beethoven’s final symphony.

  I will try to the best of my ability to describe the bombardment of positions that took place.

  First: I had her pinned against my dresser with both hands under her knees, bouncing her up and down like she was riding a toy unicorn in a playground.

  Second: I had my knees on the edge of my bed with my hands on the floor. She had her legs wrapped around me with the back of her head on the ground as I performed a grown man’s pile driver on her.