It had been a long day. It seemed like everybody in town was having
a party to celebrate the beginning of spring break. The only thing
that saved me from utter exhaustion was that most of the frat types
were in Florida already, so I just had to deal with the ones who
couldn't afford the trip. I'd been pedalling all over town, dropping
off half a dozen with pepperoni here, ten with everything there, and
seven mushroom and olive everywhere else (Ick. I hate mushrooms and
olives). By the time I got to the last delivery before my shift
ended, I was beat. I was also freezing, since it was one of those
god-awful spring days that make you think the seasons have gone back
to winter to try again. When I saw it was clouding up, I was really
pissed.

Sure enough, halfway up the hill to Frat Row, the rain started. It
didn't just drizzle, it poured buckets. If it was raining cats and
dogs, they must have been lions and dire wolves. The pizzas were
warm and dry in their insulated bag, but I was soaked and shivering
by the time I got to the house that had ordered them. I must have
been quite a sight with my nipples tight from the cold, clearly
visible through the thin, white T-shirt that Crusty's Pizza insisted
was a delivery uniform.

I rang the bell, and stood there dripping on the mat until someone
opened it.

"Jesus, you're wet!" was the first thing he said. "C'mon in and dry
off a bit while I find some money. How much are they?"

"Thirty-seven fifty," I told him stepping inside. "Any chance you
could spare me a towel?"

"No problem. Be right back."

He disappeared down the hall, and came back a couple of minutes later
with two twenties, a big, fluffy bath towel, and a can of beer. He
handed me the money and towel, and I handed him the pizzas. The
usual juggling act wasn't made any easier by the fact that he had
opened the beer, and the inevitable happened. We missed the handoff
on the towel, and it started to fall. We both reached to catch it,
and he tipped the beer a little too far. I wound up with the better
part of a can of Budweiser poured over my head. I don't like beer to
begin with, and I certainly don't like it dripping down my face and
the back of my neck.

I screamed at him. This last frustration was the absolute last
straw, and I told him exactly what sort of clumsy, brain-damaged
idiot I thought he was. He took it calmly and waited for me to run
down. When I ran out of things to call him, he just said "Would you
take some of that back if I offered to run your clothes through the
washer while you take a shower?"

What can you say to an offer like that except yes? I couldn't think
of any other way to answer him. I borrowed the phone to call my boss
and tell him I was going straight home, and that I'd bring in the
last delivery's money when I came in the next day, and then followed
my host down the hall to the visitor's bathroom.

"Just dump your clothes outside the door, and I'll run 'em
downstairs," he said. "When they're dry, I'll hook 'em on the
outside doorknob."

Something about that didn't sound quite right, but, it wasn't until I
had stripped, handed my clothes out to him from behind the door,
locked the door, and gotten under the water, that I realized what it
was. Did he really expect me to stay in here for an hour and a half?
I shrugged to myself, figuring I'd worry about it after the shower.

The bathroom was the typical institutional type, with two open toilet
stalls and a single shower stall without a curtain on the right, and
a couple of sinks on the left wall, under the usual huge mirror.
Depressing as hell, but the way I was feeling, I wouldn't have cared
if it had been a bucket to dump over my head, as long as it was HOT!

I just luxuriated under the water for a long couple of minutes, then
began to rinse the beer out of my hair. By the time my hair was
clean, the hot water had begun to ease my mood. I saw a motion out
of the corner of my eye, but when I looked around, the only things
there were the sinks and the mirror above them.

I started soaping my body when my attention was distracted by another
movement. This time I was looking in the right direction, and I saw
that something was moving behind the mirror! I realized the frat
boys had installed a one-way mirror that wasn't quite as one-way as
they had hoped.

My first impulse was to dive for cover, but I realized there really
wasn't any. My second impulse was to turn my back, but I really
couldn't see any advantage to me in forcing them to look at my butt
instead of my tits and pussy. I finally decided to go with my third
impulse and give them a bit of a show. To tell the truth, the
thought of a bunch of strangers watching me in the shower was turning
me on.

Mind you, I wasn't about to go out of my way for their thrills, but I
did spend more time than I usually do soaping my pussy and tits, and
I did "accidentally" drop the soap once, giving them a good rear view
when I bent over to pick it up. All in all, it was one of the nicer
showers I'd had, what with all the free hot water I wanted -- not to
mention the cheap thrills for one and all -- so I was feeling pretty
good when I decided I'd had enough. I turned off the water and
grabbed the towel that had started the whole mess.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been in the shower, so I figured there was
at least a chance that my clothes would be dry, so I wrapped the
towel around myself and stuck my head out the door to check. I
wasn't particularly surprised that there weren't any clothes there.
My host was, however, and the bulge in his pants showed that he, at
least, hadn't gotten his rocks off watching me.

"I just put your stuff in the dryer," he said. "You wanna hang out
in there 'til it's ready, or do you wanna come upstairs and see if we
can find you a robe or something while you wait?"

I'm not an idiot, so I figured he had more in mind than just finding
me a robe, but the prospect wasn't that dismal. Actually, the idea
was sounding more and more attractive the more I thought about it.
Men are more fun than vibrators, after all, and either one is better
than sitting around a wet bathroom with no clothes and nothing to do.

With that in mind, I took another look at him. He was medium height,
kind of weedy looking, although not quite to the level of scrawny.
He had dark, straight hair and glasses. Not my idea of a dream stud,
but quite acceptable, especially given that the glasses were
reasonably fashionable, and not held together with electrical tape.

"Upstairs, you said?"

He pointed down the hall behind me. "First door on the left at the
top." As I started up the stairs in front of him, he added "I'm
Mark, by the way."

Thinking fast, I told him my name was Betty. I didn't think it was
likely, but just in case he decided to try to track me down later, I
didn't want to make it easy for him. Betty was actually the name of
the TA who taught my Calculus class. She had just handed back a test
that day, and I was none to pleased with my D. I entertained a brief
fantasy of Mark calling every Betty in the campus phone book, and
bugging her, preferably at 3 a.m.

I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door on the left.
"Would you get the light?" Mark said. "It's on a string in the
middle of the room." I took a couple of steps forward, waving my arms
to find the string. Just as I found it, I heard the door close
behind me. I pulled the string, and found myself in (no surprise) a
bedroom. The surprise was in the number of people in the room. In
addition to Mark, there were five other guys. Standing around,
leaning against the walls. Stark naked. Looking at me dressed in
nothing but a towel.

I whirled around to confront Mark, nearly losing my towel in the
process. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded, a
rather stupid question, especially as he was pulling his shirt off
even as I spoke.

"Well," Mark replied calmly, "I did say that if you came upstairs,
we'd see what we could find for you to wear." He started to pull off
his pants. "Plural, you know," he added.

"So what you're saying is that if I, uh, service all six of you,
you'll loan me something to wear until my clothes are dry? Doesn't
sound like much of a deal to me."

"Actually no," said one of the guys behind me. "What he's saying is
that by the time we finish fucking you, your clothes will be dry, and
we'll get them for you."

"Sex, clothes. No sex, no clothes," chimed in another one. "That
sound like a better deal?"

At this point, I figured I had three choices: I could make a break
for it, and even if I got out the door, what would I do then? Have
you ever tried to ride a bike dressed in nothing but a bath towel?
Me neither, and I didn't really want to try it. I could try and talk
my way out of it, with roughly the same chance of success as winning
the lottery two weeks in a row. Or I could, as the saying goes,
cooperate with the inevitable, and file rape charges later. I took a
quick look around the room at the six of them, and thought about how
long it had been since I had last had sex. "Hell," I thought, "I
might even enjoy it, if I'm lucky."

"I guess you've got a deal," I said, reluctantly. All six of them
started forward. I hastily continued, "On one condition. You guys
want a gang-bang. That I can handle, I guess, but I'm not about to
take you all on at once. You guys want to do this, you do it one at
a time, and in order of dick size. If I'm going to take you all, I
need some warm-up before I get to the big ones." I glanced at Mark.
"That'd make you first, you bastard," I added as I dropped the towel.

He blushed. I'd never seen a guy blush all the way from his head to
his nuts. It's quite a sight. I smiled to myself when his buddies
chuckled.

"She's got your number, Mark," one of them said. "If that's the way
she wants it, I can live with it."

"OK, OK, you pricks. If that's it, that's it. Just remember who
isn't gonna be getting sloppy seconds," Mark replied. Turning to me,
he said "Get on your knees next to the bed, bend over, and lean your
arms on it."

I started to comply, and then had a nasty thought. I turned to look
at him, and past him to the rest of them. "Make sure you aim right.
Don't let your habits get the best of you, because the first guy who
tries to put his cock in my ass is going to have it ripped off." I
was pleased to see a couple of their faces take on a very thoughtful
look.

I got into the position Mark had demanded, and then had to wait while
someone ran downstairs for a padded footstool, since in that position
my pussy was several inches too low for them to get at. When he
returned, I knelt on the stool, and Mark approached me again.

"That's better," I heard him say, just before I was rammed forward as
he thrust all the way into me in one stroke. Fortunately for me, his
prick was not only short, no more than five inches, but was unusually
skinny as well. He didn't even stretch me noticeably.

This is not a position that gives me much pleasure under the best of
circumstances, and Mark had neither the interest or the ability to
maximize what little potential it offered. I was tempted to sneak my
hand back and give my clit a little stimulation, but decided I wasn't
about to give him the satisfaction, even if it would have made me
more comfortable. As he thrust in and out, I was grateful that the
activity in the shower had gotten me a little lubricated, and that
his cock was as skinny as it was. A little larger, or a little less
lubrication, and I would have been rubbed raw. As it was, I merely
hoped that his lack of subtlety signalled an equal lack of
experience, and therefore a quick cum.

He fucked me hard and fast, while I concentrated on moving enough to
make it look like I was involved, without moving enough to actually
help him. My prayers were answered, as it wasn't long at all before
I felt his cum spurting into me. As soon as he came, I started to
feel a little bit guilty. He'd been nice enough before he pulled his
little trick. He and I probably would even have had a good time if
things had gone as I had expected they would when we came upstairs.

Mark pulled out of my cunt, and I felt his cum begin to drip out, and
run down my leg. I heard the second guy take his place behind me,
and decided that feeling guilty was stupid. Mark deserved to lose
whatever pleasure he didn't get for what he had done. "Your loss,
buddy," I thought to myself as cock number two pressed against the
entrance to my hole.

This one was noticeably larger than Mark's, but its owner was rather
more considerate. He teased me a bit, rubbing the tip up and down
the length of my slit, lubricating it with Mark's cum, before he
pushed slowly into me. As he began moving in and out with long, slow
strokes, I reached down and started to rub myself. Number Two
(shades of the Village) was much better than Mark had been, and
giving myself some stimulation didn't hurt any either, so I was
almost disappointed when he lurched forward, firing his hot juices
deep into me.

Number Three was almost a gentleman. He started by running his hands
up and down my back for a moment, easing the strain of staying on my
hands and knees. He then reached around me, caressed my breasts, and
whispered in my ear, "I hope you're protected."

"You might have mentioned that thought a little sooner," I whispered
back. "If it will make you feel any better, though, yes, I am."

"Sorry. I didn't think of it until I saw what was running down your
leg." He chuckled then, as he straightened up and slid his hard
shaft into me. "Thank heaven for Ortho Pharmaceuticals," he added.
I could only agree.

I started to reach for my clit again, and found he had beaten me to
it. I sighed in mounting pleasure as he synchronized the strokes of
his cock with the rubbing of his finger. Making the most of the
situation, I matched his motion, giving him the best fuck I could
under the circumstances. Unfortunately, I gave him a better fuck
than I should have. I was just beginning to think I might cum, when
he gasped "Oh, yes, Baby, YES," and blew his wad.

I didn't get the chance to see if he'd stick around to help me cum,
as Number Four elbowed him out of the way and impaled me with the
largest cock yet. From his first vicious thrust, I knew he was out
to make up for Number Three's relative consideration. The only thing
that kept me from screaming in pain was the three loads of cum that
had already been deposited in my pussy, keeping me well lubricated.
He was thrusting so hard that my head was just about banging into the
wall on the far side of the bed. "Hey, slow down," I called back to
him. "I'm not going anywhere. Take your time."

"Damn right you're not," he said. He added over his shoulder, "Hey,
Paul, 'ja hear that? She wants me to slow down. I guess she likes
it or something." He slowed down a little, enough that I stopped
worrying about a concussion, so I let the subject drop.

"How is she?" the next guy in line asked.

"Nice and tight," he replied. "Getting kinda squishy, though."

"Better pull out when you cum, then," his buddy said. "Don't make it
any worse for the rest of us."

"No prob," Number said, pulled his prick out of me, and started
jerking it. It was such a relief to have it out, that it took a
minute for what they had been saying to register.

"Hey!" I yelled, turning my head around as I started to say something
stupid about not wanting my hair full of cum. I was too slow. I got
my head turned just in time to catch the first long spurt in my face.
My sentence turned into a sputter as I jerked my head back and
started rubbing it on the bed-covers to clean off. I felt the next
couple of spurts hit the back of my head and shoulders before the
pressure fell off, and he finished up dripping onto my butt.

"Shit! You stupid bastard, why do you think I wanted you in order of
cock size? I needed that for lubrication."

"Not my problem, Babe," he said with a distinctly self-satisfied
smirk. Turning to the next guy in line, he said "She's all
youerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk". His involuntary interjection was the result
of my foot becoming intimately acquainted with his nuts.

I briefly considered following my kick with a break for the door, but
I knew my chances of getting past the rest of them were pretty slim
-- and I still didn't want to run home naked. I turned to the two
guys still waiting for their turns. "Either of you two think we're
making a porn flick here? If you do, you might as well step up to
where I can reach you, and we'll save a little time." They both
looked at their buddy moaning on the floor, and shook their heads.
"OK then. Let's get on with it, and get it over with."

"That's hardly romantic," Mark said.

"You're a fine one to talk. If you think this is a romantic
situation, you must have gone to reform school instead of high
school." I turned to the next guy in line. "Ready?" At his nod, I
resumed my position against the bed.

Not surprisingly, he seemed a bit nervous as he approached me, but
once he got his cock into me without getting kicked, he seemed to
relax. I was starting to get a bit sore from the stretching, and
this guy's cock wasn't helping things any. It was definitely the
biggest one I had ever taken, and I breathed a mental sigh of relief
when he entered me slowly, and kept his strokes slow as well. Again
I started rubbing my clit, and I was getting into it enough that the
pain was starting to recede behind the pleasure when he groaned and
blasted his cum into me.

As Number Five stepped back, the guys who had already had their turns
started cheering.

"Alright, Big Tony!"

"Give her all of it!"

"Nail 'er big guy!"

I looked around to see what all the fuss was about, and got my first
good look at Big Tony -- or, more precisely, at why they called him
that. Tony wasn't particularly big, maybe 5'10", and 180 pounds, but
his prick sure was. My first, horrified thought was that he had
a baseball bat grafted to his crotch, but a longer look didn't
reassure me much. It was at least a foot long, and a good three
inches in diameter. His cock was a pretty good match in size for my
forearm, and the head wasn't noticeably smaller than my fist. My
unconscious cry of "Holy shit!" was answered by laughter from the
onlookers, and an apologetic grin from Big Tony. He was obviously
used to that reaction.

"You're not gonna back out, are you?" he asked me, and I realized
that he must be used to women turning him down when they saw what he
had to offer. I felt sorry for him, and wondered if he had ever
found one who would go all the way with him. I knew that I'd hate
myself if I disappointed him, given that I was as well stretched and
lubricated as I'd ever been.

"Not if you take it slowly," I assured him, trying to sound
confident, rather than nervous. I felt his cock-head against the
mouth of my pussy, and relaxed the muscle as far as possible. He
pushed slowly into me, and I felt as though his cock was dragging my
pussy-lips so far inside that I wondered if I was going to turn
outside-in. He got a couple of inches in, and then reversed
direction, and I thought I was going to turn inside-out.

The second stroke was easier, thanks to the cum smeared along the
first few inches of his shaft. He proceeded that way, pushing in an
inch or so further with each stroke, until I felt his belly hit my
butt.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Big Tony cried, "I'm all the way in! Damn, that feels
good!" I was too busy wondering if I was going to be ripped in half
to respond with anything more than a moan, but he didn't seem to
care. He started stroking in and out, slowly enough at first, but
then picking up speed as he got more and more excited, and I
stretched enough to make it possible.

About then, I discovered something. I'd never gotten much clitoral
stimulation from the doggy position before, but I found that with a
big enough cock it works just fine -- and Big Tony's was big enough.
By the time this realization hit me, Big Tony was well past
thirty-three and a third, and getting close to forty-five. I sent up
a silent prayer that he'd never get to seventy-eight, and abandoned
myself to the sensation of being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

The pleasure rapidly swamped the pain, and my moans of pain quickly
became one continuous moan of pleasure. For the second time I found
myself mere seconds from orgasm, and for the second time I was
disappointed, as Tony bellowed with the pleasure, dumping the
frustration of at least ten years of getting nothing more than a
hand job -- and an enormous load of cum -- into my pussy.

I was ready to weep with frustration when Tony whispered in my ear,
"You were almost there, weren't you? Don't worry, you've got one
more chance. If anybody can get you off, it's Zeke."

I was a little puzzled; I had thought Big Tony was the last one
waiting for a crack at my crack, but before I could say anything, I
felt a tongue begin to work on my cunt. I stopped thinking; I always
do when someone goes down on me. Good as it felt, though, something
was bothering me, and I finally figured out what it was. What kind
of a frat boy would not only go down on a woman in front of his frat
mates, but would eat the cum they had already left in her?

I had to see this paragon, so I looked around, and then fell off the
stool trying to get away. Zeke was a dog; a St. Bernard-cross, to be
exact! No wonder he hadn't cared who was watching him eat cum. I
realized that part of what had been bothering me was the length and
flexibility of his tongue, but it had felt so good I had done my best
to ignore the oddity.

Mark and Number Four were laughing hysterically; they had obviously
brought Zeke in while I was absorbed with Big Tony. The others were
turned on at the sight, they all looked disappointed when I pushed
Zeke away. Between laughs, Mark said, "What do you think you're
doing? You agreed to fuck us all to get your clothes back."

"Yeah, but he's not one of you," I replied.

"Sure he is. Zeke's the house mascot. If that doesn't make him one
of us, I don't know what would."

"He wasn't here when we made the deal."

"Nobody said anything about being here. You agreed to fuck us all to
get your clothes. Zeke's one of us, so if you don't fuck him, you
don't get your clothes. Besides, look at him. He's obviously
desperate. If you don't fuck him now that he's turned on, we'll have
to report you to the ASPCA." He started laughing again.

I'm not stupid enough to be convinced by any of Mark's arguments.
The truth is, I was almost frustrated enough to give Mark a second
chance just so I could cum. I was grateful to have an alternative.
As Mark said, "Besides, you liked him well enough before you saw who
he was."

I let myself be persuaded, and got back up on the stool, reflecting
on the appropriateness of the doggy position. Seeing me in a
position he recognized, Zeke came back over to me and started lapping
at my cunt again.

I spread my legs a little further apart to give him better access,
and he took full advantage. His tongue slid inside me, wriggling at
the walls of my pussy, rapidly turning me on again. After a minute
or so, he stopped licking, and I felt his forepaws on my back. He
walked forward, and began hunching his spine, trying to get his
doggy-dick into me. After two unsuccessful thrusts that came
perilously close to my asshole, I reached back and grabbed his cock,
guiding it into me.

Zeke wasn't as big as Tony, but he was bigger than any of the other
guys, and I was pleased to discover that he was big enough to give me
the stimulation I needed. I was less pleased when I felt his knot
slide into me. That was enough to make his cock even thicker than
Big Tony's, and I wasn't sure I could take it.

Somehow, though, I did. Once inside me, Zeke started a frantically
fast stroke that quickly had me clawing at the bed-sheets. When he
howled and started pumping his doggy-cum into me, I felt my cunt
clamp down as the first throes of my orgasm shook me. The
combination of my repeated frustration and the sheer depravity of
doing it with a dog contributed at least as much to the
mind-wrenching quality of my orgasm as the purely physical
stimulation of Zeke's big cock. It wasn't until well after Zeke was
finished that I came down enough to turn my untidy sprawl across the
bed into a seat on the footstool.

I rested there for a minute, six pairs of eyes studiously avoiding
mine. (Zeke I didn't count. He was in the corner, licking his cock
clean as it retreated into its sheath.) When I felt steady enough to
stand, I grabbed the towel I had abandoned on the floor. "I'm going
to the bathroom to clean up," I announced. "When I come out, I
expect my clothes to be outside the door waiting for me."

I didn't want to take the time for a full-fledged cleanup. I just
rinsed the worst of the flows of semen from my legs, promising myself
a thorough wash when I got home. When I left the bathroom, Number
Three was standing there holding my clothes.

"I didn't want to just leave them on the floor. That didn't seem
right, somehow," he said, handing them to me, and ignoring the dirty
look I gave him. He handed me my money belt, adding, "We put in a
couple of extra bucks for you; to make up for Zeke, and all."

Somehow I refrained from telling him that Zeke had been better than
the lot of them. It wasn't quite true, and the guy was trying to
apologize, so I just mumbled thank you, and headed for the front
door.

He followed me down the hall, and as I opened the door, he said,
"It's still pouring out there. You want me to give you a ride home?"

If I had been reluctant to let Mark know who I was before the events
of the evening, I certainly wasn't about to let any of these guys
know where I lived now. "No thanks," I said. "I've gotta get my
bike home, too."

I righted the bike, started to swing my leg across the frame, and
stopped with it half raised when my much-abused crotch gave me a
warning twinge. Deciding that I wasn't in the mood for the amount of
pain riding would have entailed, I elected to walk.

Halfway down the hill, I discovered another reason not to ride. The
larger part of six loads of cum had done a rather good job of soaking
the crotch of my jeans. Even if I had wanted to ride, I was probably
too slippery to stay on the seat.

THE END