Chapter 9

The girls in the sorority really are like an extended family. We say that, but when someone has a problem, we mean it. We really are there for each other, though this family has different rules and traditions. My family, the one I was born into for instance, embraced swinging. We had been part of that social scene since Grandma's mother's time. Of course back then they had to do everything with condoms and pulling out, and I expect there were a few "accidents", but things were different for us. Every kid, a few months after their fifteenth birthday, was introduced to sex in a social setting.

My own experience had been at a weekend visit to my grandmother's in Mississippi. She only lived thirty miles away, but it was across the state line. There I met others of roughly my age, most of whom I knew already. We got naked, and then we got it on. It didn't take long before I'd fully embraced the whole idea.

Now mother had brought me up to be comfortable with my body. I didn't have a problem with being nude, and I especially enjoyed seeing guys buck naked. Every girl should have the opportunity, though I would recommend that she not have to strip down herself. It would certainly dispel a lot of false ideas girls have about boys.

The first thing I learned was that guys don't' walk around with a perpetually hard dick. Second, learned only moments after the first, was that the dick and balls are in front of the legs, not between them. I'd always thought otherwise, but that was because a girl's sexual parts are between her legs. Third, I really began to appreciate muscles gleaming in the sunlight, whether shoulders, arms, or leg. There's something about the male form I find appealing, and not just because I'm a girl. A good male body is like a triangle.

The sex part ... Mother taught me how to masturbate when I was twelve. That's about the time these unknown urges were hitting me. A lot of girls in high school do themselves, only they don't admit it. I think that's one of the biggest differences between generations. Our mothers were taught that nice girls don't touch themselves down there except to wipe. We, on the other hand, would dive our fingers into our panties moments after getting home. An anonymous poll taken in school found that seven girls out of ten admitted to doing themselves at least once a week. In my case it was more like once a day.

Doing yourself teaches you a lot, not the least of which is how things feel. Nobody was getting hurt. As one girl put it, the handle on her brush was always available, and didn't sulk if she didn't feel like doing it. In some way that helps give you confidence, and a girl needs that while growing up. Boys just get bigger. Our whole body changes.

So I was prepared, physically and psychologically, for sex. Not all girls are, and we got more than a few in the sorority who were totally at sea when it came to what happened as the kissing got more intense.

Now people knew that Eric and I had done it, and now that I was seeing Wesley, that we were doing it, too. The quiet word was that I had had sex with more than just Eric and Wesley. But I'd followed the unwritten rules and had gone out with the boy for a while before going to bed with him. That meant I became, whether I liked it or not, the girl the others came to with questions about sex. The ideal was that the sorority would deliver a virgin to a prospective husband, but one well-trained in various things so she could please him. That sounds patriarchal, and it is. Of course what we women thought was another matter. But Daddy's Little Girl would be pure, beautiful, the kind you would show off in society, and an absolute slut in the bedroom.

Most of the questions I got were "why do guys..." Girls had a hard time believing that guys have different reactions than they did. Guys would come, and lost interest in proceeding. This left the girl close, but not there, and really frustrated. Under my tutelage girls began to learn how to get guys off before things got too intimate, and then proceed to the next steps: getting him stiff again, getting the condom on, and so on. In almost every case the combination of condom and recovery period meant guys lasted long enough that the girl got somewhere. Now not all got off; the statistics said three in eight would climax from straight sex, but a long-lasting guy can be a pleasure in his own right. And almost always a girl learned to have the guy go down on her. If that didn't result in an orgasm, there was something drastically wrong.

The hard part was that a lot of girls thought that down there was dirty. After all, you peed there, you had your period, and there were other discharges that left traces on your panties. But there was nothing that a good washing couldn't take care of. And when a girl relaxed and let a guy go down... ! She didn't object to a repeat performance. I tried explaining it to my brother Rick. The guy doesn't get that much physical pleasure from the act. What he does get is the personal satisfaction from getting her off. The girl ... There's something very personal about a guy putting his mouth down there, and I can't really put it in words. There's only the pleasure, and very little else. And if the guy makes any noises like he's enjoying himself, that's just the chocolate syrup on the ice cream.

Getting girls to do that was hard, at least at first. But word gets around; believe me, everything gets discussed between girls. As one girl put it, if she sucked off her boyfriend, it only seemed fair that he lick her to completion. They could both be satisfied, and the risk of pregnancy was somewhere around zero or less. At least I never heard of someone getting that way from oral sex.

That didn't mean there wasn't a lot of regular sex, though. Every pledge got reminded of the facts of life, and that the best birth control was an aspirin held firmly between the knees. Using more normal forms of birth control was a personal choice, but it didn't take long for girls to conclude a little chemistry, or something, would help keep the stork at bay. We didn't have any accidents, though I admit we had a few close calls.

In the wake of what had happened to Jesse, we had a full chapter meeting, pledges included. This wasn't concerning the affairs of the chapter; those are private and limited to just the actives. This was an information session in which everything that happened was discussed, in clinical detail if necessary, and people were cautioned. There was a lot of rallying of support for Jesse. Girls from all over the house would stop in to see how she was doing. You could see her rallying, centering herself, and moving on, with this experience behind her.

The other purpose for the meeting was to remind everyone of what could happen. Not the quasi-rape, but the sexual assault. "A stiff dick has no conscience," Robbyn said, amid much laughter and a few whistles, but it was true. Once a guy got it up, his dick was like a guided missile, seeking a target and damn the consequences.

Several girls made the trip to the Health Clinic to get protected. I didn't hear any rumors of increased sexual activity, I think the contrary happened, but the girls I could help were better protected, both intellectually and physically, than they were before.

I had a few girls come up to me on the quiet with questions. We discussed practical things like what to do in certain intimate situations, and so on. Nowhere in there did I offer any judgment or feelings. This was all knowledge that one woman will often share with another. Guys would be appalled. I'm sure they don't sit around and discuss what to do when they were in bed with a girl. I think guys believe then know (they don't). But girls have a lot of social baggage heaped on them of what is expected, and what isn't. I felt I was there to dispel some of the myths.

Mary Alice summed it up best: we are a complete, one-stop source for what the Southern Lady needs. We give you advice on everything from grooming, etiquette, dental hygiene, clothes, and sexual technique. A graduate moving on from our sorority would find herself comfortable in any situation, whether it was a cocktail party, an office, or a bedroom.

She and I joked about it, but only in private. We had a lot in common, ever since the night I guided Wesley's stiff dick into her. She returned the favor a little later with her boyfriend, and we'd been close ever since. Having a shared secret helped.

We talked a little about that as we drove to a Saturday afternoon party. It was a very warm day, and our hosts had had to bail due to a family emergency. But someone else had stepped up, and we were headed north to an alternate site. We'd been there a couple of times, and so when we were told the party had been moved to Martha and George's place, we knew how to get there.

"I was part of the Theater Club in high school," Wesley said as we waited out a traffic light. "One of the plays we did was "Guys and Dolls". This reminds me of a line in there."

"Which one?" Mary Alice asked.

"The craps game. The main character, Nathan Detroit, has to arrange a craps game for some out of town gamblers. It was The Oldest Established Permanent Floating Crap Game in New York. He did, too."

"So this is 'the oldest established permanent floating orgy in Baton Rouge'?" I asked.

"I think the floating part would only be if it was on a boat."

"Haven't done it on a boat yet," Mary Alice said. "I'll have to try that some time. I've done it on a water bed. I wonder if they're comparable."

"Depends on the size of the boat," I told her. "If the boat is big enough, you can't tell. You'd have to try it in a small boat."

She smiled at her boyfriend. "I'm willing."

"Yes ma'am! I'll see what I can do."

George and Martha wee an older couple who liked parties and liked costumes. Every Halloween they dressed up as George Washington and his wife Martha. And the day before Halloween they didn't dress at all as that interfered with their favorite activity. They only had limited room in the house, but they had a large covered patio and backyard, with fences and hedges for privacy. I hadn't done it outside that much since high school, mostly because I would burn rather than tan, and certain parts which hadn't gotten any sun in the course of normal life would hurt.

The house was a modest single-story ranch with an attached garage and a big circular driveway. There was an adjoining barn, and the last time I was here we waited out a rain storm in the bar. Eight people, no clothes, no inhibitions, and all of that hay; we didn't sing camp fire songs to pass the time. There was a thunderstorm predicted for later this day, so we might try that again.

Martha had used peach and light oak as her themes in decorating. Personally I wouldn't have chosen those colors, but to each their own. There were a couple of bedrooms already prepped for fun and games, but the real treat was out back.

New grill?" I asked when I saw it sitting on a corner of the patio.

"Brand new," George said. He was naked except for a chef's hat and an apron that said "Suck the Cook". I smelled barbecue, and if it was half as good to taste as it was to smell, I'd gladly suck him off every day for a week.

"Aren't you a trifle overdressed?" he asked, looking pointedly at my jeans and shirt.

"Something that will be fixed momentarily."

Martha had provided a place to put our clothes and things. These parties were by invitation only, and she had labeled places against the wall in the dining room for our shoes, purses, clothes, and so on. We circulated a bit, greeting friends and checking each other out ... There was a widescreen TV in the rec room, and it was showing an animated film of some kind. No surprise, it was x-rated.

"There's somebody from high school," I said, spotting a familiar face. "Tony! How are you?"