Frat Boys Next Door


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Rape, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, First, School, .

Desc: Sex Story: Expanded revision of the original Frat Boys story, based on reader comments. It is about 20+ years in the life of a sorority girl. Her parents force her to go to the prom. She is raped instead. The frat boys next door did the heavy work for the sorority, in return for 'mercy fuck' duty by sorority pledges. Her duty was to deal at the frat's poker night. Whenever a hand was won with a full house or better, it cost her a garment. After the last hand was dealt, she must give her first blowjob.

DECEMBER 5, 2006

Sandy and I were drying each other off, after taking a post-sex shower. We'd spent most of the morning swimming and sunbathing naked. We were so lucky to live in a warm weather climate. We spent the afternoon in bed together, pleasing each other in just about every way one women could please another, except we didn't use the dildos today.

Sandy was still amazed at my story. "That was fascinating. The things I missed not joining a sorority."

"We took some pretty dangerous risks back then. Things that were pretty safe for my mother in the early 1950s, that were life threatening by 1984. But God, they were fun."

We were dressing each other as we talked. Sandy pulled my panties up and made sure they were not wrinkled over my pubic hair. I carefully hand-installed each of Sandy's breasts in her bra, and made sure the fabric was smooth, and the fit snug. We took a while as we worked.

"C'mon, tell me the whole story," she asked, again.

"Sandy, I'm not sure I can tell the whole story without thinking about it some. Give me a few days to put my thoughts in order, and I'll share the story with you, but you're gonna owe me."

"Exactly what will I owe you, Julie," Sandy asked, as she rubbed my breast before putting my bra on me.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Absolutely," Sandy agreed.


I was at home, looking through some college scrapbooks. I wasn't sure where to begin. My husband David wasn't home. I wasn't sure where he was, or if he'd be home tonight. We had 'an arrangement.' We both took advantage of it. Sometimes we kept each other informed as to where we'd be, with whom, and when we'd be home. Since the girls had been away at university, it was easier for us both to be gone at the same time. I'd spent the last three days with Sandy. David had been home when I left. It didn't look like he'd been home for a couple of days, based on the mail in the box and the newspapers in the driveway.

SPRING, 1986

I was in the attic storeroom, at the Delta Alpha Delta house. This storeroom was off limits to all but the house president and the alumna president. It held the private history of the sorority, going all the way back to 1946, when Delta Alpha Delta was formed. The house was purchased in 1948.

I was reading the President's Notes from 1948 forward.

"October 1, 1948 -- Ron, the president of the fraternity next door, came over to talk to me. He said, 'They'd left all the bedroom shades open, on the side of their frat house facing us, for a week. Now it was our turn.' I told him I'd make all the pledges sunbathe for fifteen minutes, in just their bras and panties, in the middle of our back yard, where they could see them, if he'd organize a work party of frat boys to take care of our lawn for us. Ron insisted it had to last for at least an hour. I agreed."

As near as I can determine, that marked the beginning of the Delts special relationship with the frat boys next door. The notes for the next couple of years documented a succession of jobs we would do for them, and that what they would do for us in return. Most of our jobs involved cooking and cleaning. Most of their jobs involved heavy work, especially yard work, painting, and house repairs. They did more for us than we did for them. To even things out, we would provide occasional voyeur opportunities for the frat boys next door. We'd leave the curtains open sometimes, so they could see us dressing or undressing, and eventually see us in bed with somebody else (or occasionally with each other). As time passed, over the years, we'd sunbathe topless occasionally, or let them see us 'accidentally, ' while they did chores for us.

In the spring of 1956, high winds did a great deal of damage to our roof. Whole sections of shingles were blown away. We didn't have the money to make the repairs. We could buy the materials, almost three hundred dollars, but we couldn't pay the estimated five hundred dollars for the labor.

"March 9, 1956. I spent about an hour negotiating with the president and vice-president of the frat house next door. They've agreed to fix our roof, but some of us will have to get naked for them in return. I hope I can convince the sisters to participate. We must provide four sisters or pledges to be poker dealers on Friday nights, from 7 at night until 1 in the morning. Any hand which is won with a full house or better will require the dealer to remove one garment, and walk around each poker table. Each girl is limited to eight garments of her choice. She determines the order her garments come off, and she must stand while she removes them. Each dealer must deal at least 35 hands, or she continues beyond 1 o'clock in the morning. If all the dealers are naked before they've begun to deal their 26th hand, they all have to give blow jobs to one of the four players who have won the most money that night. The players choose who will service them based on money won. I've never even heard the term 'blow job, ' but when they defined it, I had heard of the deed. I'd never done it, but I knew what a blow job was. The frat boys next door will select one sister to be a dealer, and we will draw names for the other three. Every girl must have her name in the drawing every week, unless she has been a naked dealer at least once. Once we've all been naked, all the names go back into the drawing, until the semester is over. No dealer can be required to get naked more than twice during the semester."

"I was worried about getting 100% participation, but it was easier than I thought, once the members learned it would save us five hundred dollars we didn't have. Two girls did resign from the house."

The list of all the girls who dealt was listed for the semester, including who got naked and who gave blow jobs to whom, and which garments the girls who didn't get naked wore at the end of the night. Most girls who didn't get naked were down to one or two garments. About half the girls gave blow jobs. The last Friday night, the four dealers were the only four girls who hadn't been naked yet. One of the girls finished with her bra and panties still on. It was the fourth time she'd dealt, and the fourth time she ended up in her bra and panties.

The following year, Poker Night became an annual event, one night, with four pledges dealing. There was one change in the rules. Any girl who was naked before she dealt her 26th hand had to give a blow job on the spot, and if they were all naked by that point, all four had to participate in a gang bang at the end of the evening. Over the years, the procedure changed, but the basic idea of sending over girls to deal and strip and give blow jobs remained essentially the same.

In 1958, the dealers had to participate in the first of the four gang bangs the Delts gave the frat boys next door before 1981. My mother was one of the participants who got gang banged. To this day, she and I never discussed her gang bang.

In 1960 - 61, my mother was president of Delta Alpha Delta.

MAY, 1982

I was very shy; not at all a social animal. I only had two dates during high school. Three weeks before the senior prom, a new guy to the school asked me to go to the movies with him. His name was Curtis. I spent the entire evening fighting him off. At the movie, he got his hands inside my bra, and outside my panties. I was terrified, and I cried so loudly that the usher made us leave before the movie ended. I cried all the way home, and I ran from the car before he turned the motor off. My parents were gone for the weekend. I cried until dawn.

The following Monday, Curtis came to the house about 5:45 PM. My mother opened the door, and she heard him ask me to the senior prom. I was beginning to give him a piece of my mind for his actions at the movie last week. Before I could really get started, my mother accepted his prom invitation for me!

I was speechless, and I ran from the room.

Throughout dinner, I argued, and I cried. I told mom she couldn't just accept a prom invitation for me. She said she could, and she did, and that I was going, 'or else.' I didn't know what 'or else' meant this time, but it had meant very dire consequences in the past. I continued crying. My father had no patience with tears, so he yelled at me for crying. That made me cry all the more. Eventually, mom made dad leave the room. Then the crying got worse, as I kept insisting I wasn't going to go to the prom, and I'd never go with the guy who asked me. Mom insisted I had to go, because I'd accepted. I said I never accepted, she did, so she'd have to go with him. Then she began to yell at me too.

Tuesday, after school, mom took me shopping for a prom dress. I was in a rotten mood. I didn't want to go to the prom. I didn't want a fancy dress. Mom got tired of me saying I didn't like this dress, or that dress, or any dress. But she bought me a dress anyway. It was green. The color was nice. I didn't like it. It was slit way up my right leg. It was strapless, covered my breasts entirely, but was slit down between them. It needed special double stick pads at the top of my breasts to stay up. She bought me skimpy green panties and green shoes. I said it looked like I was dressed to match my date, if he was the Jolly Green Giant. That made mom angry again.

I seriously thought about running away, but I didn't know where to go, nor did I have any money.


The Friday of the prom, I stayed at school, in the library. I finished all my homework, and read the book for my last book report of the year. At 4:30, they closed the library, and I had to go home. I drove slowly, but eventually I got home.

My parents were furious. "Where the hell were you?" screamed my father.

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