Frat Guys In Underwear Novels & Stories

I wore a modest sundress and sandals to orientation, but the way every male in the room seems to close in on me, I feel naked. Who is that? they whisper. Is she real? Can you imagine what she looks like under that dress? Fuck. When one of the frat guys openly rubs their crotch, I take a startled step backward, running into someone. Carter. He steadies me with a too – tight grip on my elbow. “Hey there. Can I get you a drink?”

Chelsea added, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “let it be known—I’m doing this against my better judgment and under extreme protest. This? This humiliation? Was earned.” Tyler muttered something about cruel and unusual punishment. Chelsea gave a dramatic sigh and snapped her fingers. In an instant, the guys were no longer tragically dressed like they lost a game of magical strip poker in the ‘80s. Their usual attire—jeans, combat boots, dark tees, and the occasional leather jacket—returned in a shimmer of golden light. Except. For. The. Fanny packs. “Oh, hell no,” Jax said, tugging at the glittering pink nightmare still attached to his waist.

The triangular gap between her thighs instantly sent blood rushing from his brain to his manhood. Her breast which he thought was flat, wasn't as small as they showed in her clothes. Her protruded buttocks was round but not too fatty, just perfect! "Please don't do this, elder brother. I've never done this before." Kelsa moaned and said with a pleading gaze. Hearing her call him elder brother, sent a chill down his manhood. Perfect! This was the confirmation he wanted. His fairy little sister. "Shhhh!" Darryl had totally lost control of his senses. His hard member has already taken charge.

We have been walking for about ten minutes and it feels like it has just been seconds. "Why are we talking about that asshole? We should be talking about us..." he winks. "You know... You plus Me... We." I just laugh at that. "You are not my type, Flex." He holds his chest and gasps, gawking at me. "Did you just!" "Leather jacket + ripped jeans + Mohawk + too cute = Trouble." I've seen guys like Flex in college. They are heartbreak ambassadors and they sleep around and complain about their girlfriends being nothing but "crazy psychos"! Thank God I never dated one. I learnt from other girls' experiences.

To make my boyfriend look good, I deliberately wore a deep V-neck blouse that accentuated my full, rounded curves, revealing a deep cleavage. Everyone in the bar was letting loose, and the intense atmosphere made something inside me itch with restlessness. The men at the table kept sneaking glances at my chest. Their heated gazes stirred something within me. After a few drinks, everyone's behavior grew more unrestrained. One of the men, I heard, was a lecturer from a nearby university. His name was Axel Keating. He spoke bluntly. "Every single one of my female students is eager—practically lining up to have fun with me."

"There's a group of guys playing frisbee fifty feet away. Walk past them. Slow." Jax stood and gave the leash a tug. I followed on shaky legs. The breeze under my dress felt obscene. My nipples were rock hard, obvious against the fabric. As we approached the frisbee guys—college-aged, laughing, shirtless—one of them glanced over. Then another. Jax made me stop and pretend to tie my sandal right in front of them. The dress rode up high. Cool air hit my wet pussy. I knew they could see. "Holy shit," one muttered.

Getting to see her bottom-less was quite a treat. The two guys in the room promptly stood, shucked off their pants, and stepped out of their underwear. The blonde, curly-haired guy was pretty well hung; his long, thin dick was already hardening as he stood there. The darker-skinned dude also had nothing to be ashamed of. His thick, brown member pointed straight and proud.

CASSANDRA Three months. Three months counting the cracks on the wall, feeling the icy concrete against my skin, waiting for time to pass like poison, drop by drop. Three months of humiliation, pain, sleepless nights where mocking laughter follows me into my nightmares. Each day starts the same way: a brutal awakening, hostile glances, whispers that cut like invisible blades. The cold has become a second skin, my ragged clothes are nothing but an illusion of warmth. My ribs still remind me of some blows, memories of altercations I didn’t choose. I no longer have the strength to defend myself every time… but I grit my teeth, swallow my shame, absorb each wound like a mark to offer later, when

I had no idea what to wear to a frat party — hell, I had no idea what to wear to any party. Worse, I hadn’t even opened most of my boxes yet, so finding a dress would take forever. “Fuck, yes!” I scrunched my nose. The moans again. Yeah — I’d better start searching now. I paused when I heard faint grunts and clapping sounds. To say I was disgusted was an understatement. I was mortified. Jaxon… he really had an active sex life? Oh boy.

He was was wearing ruby red suit with black collared shirt and black loafers. He opened the door for Lisa and she stepped out with a boring expression. She was wearing ruby red knee length gown with black high heels. Lisa flaunt her hair in air. All the eyes in party turned to see the two people and couples outfit. Men gawked at Lisa with Lustful eyes while women drool over Brad. Seeing all the predator eyes, Brad put his hand on Lisa's waist protectively, closing the difference between them.