Fraternity Initiation Ass Play

The living room of the sorority house smelled like citrus cleaner and warm skin. I stood in the middle of the rug with nothing on, nineteen and hard, and Benedict stood beside me the same way, nineteen, naked, his cock already thick and lifted. We had walked in from the front hall still in our pledge shirts. Kendra, twenty-one and the one the other girls looked to, had told us to strip, and we had. Folded shirts. Shoes. Socks. Underwear last. Now the cotton was a small pile by the couch and the air hit every inch of me.

There were eight of them on the couches and the arms of chairs, all college women, all clearly older than we were or at least as grown. Kendra sat forward in a black tank, dark hair loose, twenty-one and unhurried. Annika, twenty, perched on the arm beside her in a short denim skirt, bare legs crossed, a little smile already working at her mouth. Holly, twenty, and Bridget, twenty-one, shared the long sofa. Camille, twenty-two, leaned in the doorway with a cup of water she never drank. Nora, twenty, sat cross-legged on the floor like she had the best seat in the house. Nobody was drunk. Nobody was high. The lights were just lamps, gold and ordinary, and that made it worse and better at once.

“You both know the deal,” Kendra said. Her voice was even. “You’re rushing the same house. They asked us to run this part. You do everything we say, start to finish, and you walk out of here with the word that you passed. You can walk out now if you don’t want it. Door’s behind you. Nobody chases.”

I looked at Benedict. We had talked about it on the walk over, shoulders knocking, both of us already half-hard in our jeans from the idea and from each other. He had said he wanted it. I had said I wanted it. Not just the letters. Him. The room. The fact that they would watch. We had agreed, eager and clear, before a single girl touched a doorknob.

“We stay,” Benedict said. His voice came out lower than usual.

“We stay,” I said.

A small sound moved through the girls, not quite a cheer, more like satisfaction. Annika’s eyes dropped to my cock and stayed there. I felt it jump. Benedict’s did the same. We were both fully erect, flushed at the head, and there was no hiding it. The girls were gorgeous in the plain way that wrecks you: bare faces, tank tops, shorts, one of them in an oversized sweatshirt with nothing underneath that I could tell, collarbones and mouths and the easy confidence of women who knew exactly what they were looking at. My pulse sat in my dick. Public and naked and wanted. I had pictured this since we got the text, and the real room was hotter than the picture.

Benedict’s shoulder brushed mine. Heat came off him. I knew the line of his stomach from the gym showers, the way his cock curved a little to the left when he was hard, because I had looked and he had looked back and neither of us had said the obvious thing until tonight’s rules made saying it unnecessary. He glanced down at me, then at my mouth, and his throat moved. I was throbbing so hard it almost hurt. He was too. A thin shine sat at his slit. Mine matched it. The humiliation of standing there on display crawled up my spine and turned into want. I didn’t cover myself. Neither did he.

“Good,” Kendra said. “Then you listen. Hands off your own cocks unless we say. You answer when we ask. You don’t rush us. Silas. Benedict. Eyes up.”

I lifted my chin. Eight pairs of eyes. My face burned and my cock didn’t soften even a little.

Kendra waited until the room was quiet enough to hear the refrigerator kick on in the kitchen. Then she tipped her head, looking us over like she was deciding where to start a job she already knew she would finish.

“Turn around,” she said. “Bend over. Spread your cheeks. Both of you. Slow. We want to see.”

My stomach dropped and my cock jumped at the same time. I turned. Benedict turned with me. The rug was rough under my toes. I bent at the waist, hands on my knees first, then lower, and reached back. My fingers found the curve of my ass and I pulled myself open the way she had said. Cool air hit my hole. I heard Benedict’s breath catch as he did the same beside me, shoulder to shoulder, both of us folded over, cocks hanging heavy between our thighs, balls drawn up. Someone on the couch made a soft, delighted sound.

“Look at that,” Annika said. She was already off the arm of the chair. I couldn’t see her, only hear the pad of her bare feet and the little laugh under her words. “They’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” Benedict said, and his voice cracked on it, which made Holly laugh outright.

“You are,” Annika said, close now. A warm hand settled on the small of my back, not pushing, just there. “Color?”

“Green,” I said. The word came out hoarse. We had picked it on the walk. Green, yellow, red. Simple. Ours.

“Green,” Benedict said.

“Then hold still.”

A slick finger—someone had lube, I smelled the faint sweet of it—pressed at my hole and circled. I groaned before I could stop it. Annika giggled, bright and mean in the way that made my cock drip onto the rug. The finger pushed. Not rough. Steady. It sank into me to the first knuckle, then deeper, and my thighs trembled. Beside me Benedict made a broken noise. I turned my head and saw Bridget behind him, twenty-one, grinning, her finger buried in his ass while he held himself open for her. A couple of the girls had come in close. Holly had a hand on Benedict’s hip. Camille had drifted from the doorway to watch my face.

“Fuck,” I said.

“That’s the idea,” Annika said, and slid her finger in to the knuckle, slow, twisting. My hole clenched around her and she laughed again, softer. “God, he’s tight. Kendra, come feel.”

Kendra’s hand replaced nothing; she added. A second finger, thicker, pressed alongside Annika’s and worked in while I panted at the floor. The stretch burned in a clean line that ran straight to my cock. I was leaking steadily. Benedict was too. I could hear the wet sound of Bridget’s finger in him and the way he kept saying “yeah” under his breath like he didn’t know he was saying it.

“Deeper,” Kendra said, and they did. Annika’s finger crooked. Something bright snapped behind my eyes and I jerked, a helpless little thrust into empty air. The girls cheered, small and sharp. Nora clapped once from the floor.

“He likes that,” Nora said. “Do Benedict again. He went quiet.”

Bridget did. Benedict’s knees buckled a fraction and he caught himself, still spreading his cheeks, still obeying. His cock swung and slapped his thigh. I wanted my mouth on it so badly my jaw ached.

They fingered us like that for a long minute, in and out, commenting on how we fluttered, how red we were getting, how neither of us had gone soft. Every time a finger dragged over that spot I made a sound I would have been embarrassed by in any other room. Here the embarrassment fed the heat. I was on display and I was hard and I had asked for this. Benedict’s eyes found mine, glassy, and he nodded once, tiny, like he was checking I was still with him. I nodded back.

Kendra pulled her finger free. Annika’s followed, slower, and the sudden emptiness made me whine. A girl I hadn’t placed—wait, it was Holly—wiped her hand on a towel and said, bright as a bell, “Silas. On your knees. Blow him.”

I straightened too fast and the room tilted. Benedict was already turning, cock flushed dark, shining at the tip, the finger-slick shine still on his hole when he shifted his weight. I dropped. The rug bit my knees. His cock was right there, thick, the leftward curve I had memorized from across a shower stall and never touched. I looked up. His hand hovered, then settled in my hair, not forcing.

“You want this?” he asked, quiet enough that it was for me.

“Yes.”

“Then do it,” Annika said from somewhere above us. “We didn’t say stop to talk.”

I opened my mouth and took him in.

He was hot and salt and skin. The head slid over my tongue and I closed my lips around it, hollowed my cheeks, and sank until my nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base and I had to ease back to breathe. Benedict swore. His hips stuttered and stopped, holding still the way the rules demanded unless they told him to move. I set a rhythm anyway, wet and eager, hand wrapped around what I couldn’t swallow, tongue working the underside. Spit gathered and ran down his shaft onto my fist. I didn’t care. I wanted the girls to see how much I wanted it. I wanted him to feel it.

“Fuck, Silas,” he said. His fingers tightened in my hair. “Your mouth.”

Cheers rose, looser now. Someone whistled. Camille said, “Look at him go. Freshman knows what he’s doing.” I did. I had thought about this. I sucked him like I had been waiting all semester, which I had, bobbing, twisting my wrist, pulling off to lick the head and then taking him deep again until my eyes watered. Benedict’s thighs shook. Precum coated my tongue, bitter and clean. I moaned around him and the vibration made his stomach jump.

Minutes. I lost count of them. My jaw ached in a good way. My own cock slapped my belly every time I leaned in, untouched and furious. The girls narrated us like a sport. Holly told me to use my tongue more. I did. Nora told Benedict to hold his ass open so they could see what Bridget had done to him, and he reached back with his free hand and spread himself while I sucked him, and the room made a hungry noise that went straight through me.

“Enough of that,” Kendra said, and I almost didn’t hear her over the blood in my ears. “Silas. Rim him. Get your tongue in his ass. Benedict, turn around and bend. Hold yourself open.”

Benedict pulled out of my mouth with a wet sound that made Annika laugh. A string of spit connected my lip to his cock for a second and broke. He turned, bent, and spread his cheeks with both hands, offering me the hole Bridget had opened. It was pink, a little swollen, shining. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in and licked a broad stripe over it, and Benedict jolted like he’d been shocked.

“Oh my God,” he said.

I did it again. Then I pointed my tongue and pushed. He was soft from the fingering, and my tongue sank in easier than I expected, hot and tight around me. The taste was skin and lube and him. I groaned into it and ate him the way I had sucked him, messy, devoted, nose pressed to him, hands on his thighs to keep him steady. He rocked back onto my tongue and the girls lost it, cheering, clapping, telling me deeper, telling him to say thank you.

“Thank you,” Benedict gasped, and it wasn’t a joke. “Fuck, Silas, thank you, don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I tongue-fucked him until my jaw burned and his hole fluttered around me and his cock dripped onto the rug in a thin shining line. Lust sat in me so thick I could barely think. I wanted more. I wanted him in me. I wanted the whole room to keep watching until neither of us could stand. My cock ached, untouched, and every cheer shoved me closer to the edge of begging.

“Switch,” a voice said. Annika, I thought, or maybe Nora. It didn’t matter. The instruction was clear. “Benedict eats him. Silas, bend over. Spread. Let him in.”

I pulled back, mouth wet, and turned. My legs didn’t want to hold me. I bent, hands on the rug, and reached back to pull my cheeks apart the way I had at the start. I was open from their fingers and from how badly I wanted this. Cool air, then Benedict’s breath, then his mouth.

His tongue was broader than mine and less careful. He licked me open and then shoved in, groaning like he had been starving for it. The sensation knocked a sound out of me that didn’t sound like my voice. Wet, hot, insistent. He ate my ass in front of all of them, loud, thorough, tongue fucking into me and then flattening to lap at the rim before pushing back in. My cock swung and leaked. I pushed back onto his face and he took it, hands spreading me wider than my own had, burying himself until I felt the scrape of his stubble and the desperate little noises he made into my hole.

“Look at them,” Bridget said, delighted. “He’s fucking drooling.”

“Good,” Kendra said. “Get him ready. You’re not done.”

Benedict didn’t need to be told twice. He licked and sucked and tongue-fucked me until my arms shook and I was chanting his name into the rug. The girls’ voices braided together, filthy and bright, telling him to spit on it, telling me to beg. I begged. I didn’t even need the order. “Please. Benedict, please, more, I want it, I want you.”

He pulled off just long enough to say, “I’ve got you,” and then his tongue was back in me, deeper, and I nearly came from that alone. A hand—not his—wrapped loosely around the base of my cock and squeezed, not stroking, just holding me off. Camille, I thought. She laughed when I whimpered.

“Not yet,” she said. “Kendra’s got something else.”

Kendra waited until Benedict had me shaking and open and shiny with his spit. Then she said, calm as the first order, “Benedict. Fuck him. Right there. Bare. We want to see you put it in and we want to see you come in him. Silas, you stay bent and you take it. You both still green?”

“Green,” I said, so fast it was almost a sob. “Yes. Fuck me. Please.”

“Green,” Benedict said. His voice was wrecked. “I want to. I’ve wanted to.”

He stood. I heard the soft sound of him stroking himself once, slicking what my mouth had left with what his tongue had left on me. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against my hole and held there. The room went quiet in a way that had weight. I breathed out and pushed back. He sank in.

The stretch was bigger than fingers, bigger than his tongue, a thick relentless slide that opened me inch by inch until his hips met my ass and he was buried. I cried out, not from pain that meant stop but from the shock of being full of him in a room full of women who could see every inch. He stayed there, trembling, hands on my hips, and I clenched around him because I could and because I wanted him to feel it.

“Move,” Annika said. “Fuck him. Don’t be polite about it.”

He drew back and thrust. The first stroke punched a moan out of both of us. The second found a rhythm. He fucked me hard, the way the order had asked and the way his body wanted, hips snapping, balls slapping my ass, cock dragging over that bright place inside me on every stroke. I braced on the rug and took it, pushing back to meet him, greedy, loud. The girls cheered like we were winning something. Maybe we were.

“Harder,” Holly said.

He gave it to her. To me. The wet sound of him in me filled the room under the noise of them. Sweat gathered at the small of my back. His fingers dug into my hips and I hoped they would bruise. I wanted the proof. I wanted him deeper. “Yes,” I said, over and over, “yes, Benedict, fuck, just like that, don’t stop, come in me, I want it.”

“You hear him?” Kendra said. “Give it to him.”

Benedict’s rhythm broke. He slammed in and stayed, grinding, and I felt the pulse of him as he came, hot spurts deep in my ass, his groan ripped out of his chest and half-muffled against my shoulder blade where he had folded over me. He kept coming, hips jerking, emptying himself while the girls whooped and clapped and someone said “there it is” like they had been waiting for the proof. I moaned with it, open and pleased and so close to the edge that Camille’s loose hold on my cock was the only thing keeping me from spilling on the rug untouched.

He stayed inside until the last twitch faded. Then he pulled out, slow, and I felt the sudden gape and the immediate leak of his cum, warm, sliding out of me and down toward my balls. The room made a low, appreciative sound. I was shaking. Satisfied in the bones and still hard enough to hurt.

“Your turn,” Nora said. “The rest of it. You know what you said you’d do.”

I did. The last piece had been mine from the start, the part I had flushed over when we read the rules and agreed anyway. I reached back between my cheeks. My fingers found the mess, fresh and slick, Benedict’s cum leaking out of my well-fucked hole. I scooped it onto two fingers, brought them to my mouth, and licked them clean while the girls watched. Salt and him and me. I did it again, another smear, tongue flat, eyes half-closed, letting them see. Benedict made a broken noise behind me. Annika said, “Holy shit,” soft and awed.

Then I wrapped my fist around my cock and jerked.

No patience left. I stroked hard and fast, fist tight, thumb smearing what was left of his cum and my own precum over the head. The friction sang. I was bent awkwardly, one hand still braced, the other flying, ass still open and leaking, and I didn’t care how I looked. I wanted to come in front of them. I wanted Benedict to see. The girls counted me down like a joke that wasn’t a joke, and on some number I didn’t catch I broke. My cock kicked in my hand and I shot, thick stripes across the rug, pulse after pulse, moaning through it until my thighs gave and I caught myself on a palm, still dribbling, still tasting him on my tongue.

Silence landed in pieces. Panting. Mine. His. A girl laughed once, breathless, and then the clapping started again, shorter this time, the sound of a thing completed.

“You passed,” Kendra said. “Both of you. We’ll tell the house. Get dressed when you can stand.”

I stayed on my hands and knees a second longer than I needed to, chest heaving, cum cooling on my fingers and leaking down my thigh. We had done it. Every command. Entry, if the word held. Benedict’s hand found my back, warm, shaking. I turned my head to look at him, ready for the grin we had worn on the walk over, ready for the private heat to still be there under the performance.

He wasn’t grinning. He was staring at the rug between his feet, jaw tight, cock softening, and when his eyes finally lifted they didn’t quite land on mine. They slid off toward the door. The girls were already talking about something else, a party, a group text, the ordinary machinery of a Tuesday night. Holly tossed us a towel without looking. The room that had been a furnace a minute ago was just a living room again, citrus cleaner and lamp light, and the wrongness of that settled in my stomach heavier than the ache in my ass.

I had wanted him. I still did. Standing there with his cum in me and my own spend on the floor, I wasn’t sure he had wanted me back, or only the letters, or only the crowd that made it allowed. He pulled his hand off my back like the touch had started to burn. Neither of us said yellow. Neither of us said stay. The test was over and we had passed, and the quiet between us felt like a door closing on something we hadn’t even named yet. I wiped my mouth. The taste of him lingered. I didn’t know if I wanted it to.