A group of college students learns all the right moves when they indulge in their lust for each other.

Last summer, I was playing golf with my dad and some friends of his, and this one guy asked me, “Parker, what’s college life like these days for a guy like you? One big orgy?”

“You said it,” I replied. We both had a good laugh, but I was really telling the truth.

I attend a small college in the Northeast. I’ll be a junior this fall. During my first two years I lived on the third floor of a dormitory that has a reputation for being the biggest hook-up spot on campus. Though I didn’t know that at first when I arrived as a freshman, I soon found out how depraved my classmates could be.

Tons of sexual stuff went on in the dorm. It was impossible to ignore. The apartments have thin walls, so you’d always hear moans, groans, squeaks and even squishes while trying to study or sleep. I’d put headphones on to block it all out. But my roommate, Brady? At first he’d go mad, stricken with a severe case of blue balls. Later, though, he got to know these three wild girls up on the fourth floor, and eventually he started messing around with two of them, usually separately but sometimes together.

Brady and I were good as roommates, though he’s more of an extrovert than I am. Back at the end of freshman year he’d told me he’d found some off-campus housing for us for the coming year. That sounded great, but the deal fell through. So we signed up for an apartment in the same dorm again for our sophomore year. I actually thought Brady was happy to be returning. He and those girls from the fourth floor had had a sweet thing. But then he found out one of them had transferred to another school, and the other would be living off campus.

The dorm building’s floor plan consists of a group of suites. Between each two-person apartment is a bathroom used by four students. As freshmen, Brady and I had hung out quite a lot with the guys in the other apartment. But, like Brady’s party girls upstairs, those guys didn’t return to the dorm for sophomore year. When Brady and I arrived that September, we assumed we’d have two new suitemates. However, only one guy showed up: a kid named Sam who was short, skinny and a serious student. He was friendly enough but seemed as timid as shit. We didn’t interact with him much. Though we definitely were envious he had a whole apartment to himself.

It didn’t take long to discover that our dorm was as sex-stuffed as it had been our first year. Some of those new freshman girls were fine. Right away, the moans resumed.

Brady and I befriended two girls on our floor, transfer students named Joy and Amethyst. Joy is a busty young woman with long blonde hair (dyed partly pink), a sort of pouty face and bodacious tits. She could be the poster child for the Sex Positive movement.  When we first met her, she was wearing short-shorts and a pink T-shirt with black lettering that read: “No Slut-Shaming Allowed” across her ginormous breasts.

“No worries,” Brady told her, indicating the legend on the T-shirt. “We don’t shame sluts here. We honor them.”

“Honor?” said Joy. “I won’t take anything less than worship.”

And so began a friendly, flirtatious feud between Brady and Joy. She was one of those girls who couldn’t stop talking about sex in general and about her own sex life in particular. Brady egged her on.

Amethyst is a fit, curvaceous black woman with a plump, firm ass and gorgeous breasts with nipples that announce themselves to the world no matter what she wears. The moment I saw her, I knew she was the girl of my wet dreams. She wasn’t as chatty about her sex life as Joy was, but she was no prude.

“Her wet pussy smelled like musky perfume as I pressed my face into it.”

However, there was a problem. An unwritten rule exists at our dorm, which I later learned is in effect at many colleges: While it’s acceptable to hook up with people from other dorms or with people from other floors of your own dorm, it’s considered bad form to do the deed with people from your own floor. I guess it’s considered incestuous or something. It seemed completely arbitrary and a little silly to me, but people took it seriously. 

Joy and Amethyst observed “the rule,” although I think they inwardly resented it.

“Brady, you and Parker can come by our room to shoot the shit,” Joy said, “but you won’t be taking your peckers out for a stroll. Know what I’m saying?”

This, of course, made Brady even more desperate to get into Joy’s pants. But for some reason he, too, dutifully observed the “same floor” restriction and didn’t push the issue.

So we suffered. There was always masturbation, but with all that succulent flesh around, it seemed a shame to waste energy on a wank. One afternoon, though, Joy and Amethyst confessed that they sometimes pleasured themselves together in their apartment.

“Not fair,” said Brady. “That’s breaking the same-floor rule.”

“Masturbation doesn’t count,” Joy said, as if she were the grand arbiter. “Besides, Amethyst and I have been doing ourselves together since long before we knew you.”

On hearing that bit of news. my already chubbed peen grew to a full erection in record time. I’m sure Brady had the same predicament.

“It still doesn’t seem fair,” he said.

“You and Parker are perfectly free to jerk off together in your own room,” said Joy.

“By that logic,” I said, “the four of us should be able to just — you know — jerk and tweak together.”

“Well, that’s sort of a gray area,” Joy said. “I’ll be happy to take it up with the R.A. at our next floor meeting.”

She was so matter-of-fact that I thought she might be serious. As a cocktease, Joy definitely has finesse.

September turned to October. Classes got more intense as midterms approached. More people sought (and found) relief from stress through hooking up. But things were sad for our little quartet. Brady flirted relentlessly with this very cute freshman girl from the second floor, but it came to nothing.

Amethyst and I were in the same World History class, so we spent some time studying together. Besides being a hottie, she was a hella cool girl. She saw me checking out her tits, but she didn’t call me on it.

Meanwhile, Brady was struggling with his Spanish course. He learned that Sam, our dorky little suitemate from the other side of the bathroom, had been an exchange student in Chile while in high school and was fluent in the language. The two of them began studying together. Soon, Brady was calling Sammy “mi hombre!”

“Always be kind to nerds,” he told me. “It pays off in the long run.”

Brady had the look and the build of a jock, so he could sort of get away with saying shit like that. Part of me, though, thought he was a bit nerdy himself. I suspected he was self-conscious about his penis size. I’d never seen his erect dick, but I’d seen it flaccid in the bathroom one time. It wasn’t exactly a micro-penis, but I hoped for his sake he was a “grower.” Those girls from freshman year had stuck with him, so I guess he had something going on.

One night, very late, I was in the dorm’s basement in the laundry room. It’s a pretty nice facility, but there are problems sometimes. Residents go down there to drink or fuck around. Sometimes drunk kids piss or puke on the floor. Burt, our R.A., said that when he was a sophomore, two female students were discovered by the janitor one afternoon, each naked from the waist down, sitting atop washing machines during the spin cycle, masturbating furiously. (I put that image in my spank bank.)

I was folding clothes at a big table set apart from the machines when who emerged from the elevator but Amethyst. She was dressed similarly to me, in T-shirt and sweatpants. She held an empty laundry basket.

“I thought you’d be down here,” she murmured. She put her basket on the table.

“Stalking me, huh?” I asked.

“Maybe.” She walked up to me and ran her index fingertips lightly along my bare arms, all the way down to my wrists. She held my hands in hers, her nails grazing my palms. To say I was shocked would be an understatement, but I was definitely not displeased with this development.

“You want to make out?” she asked.

“We live on the same floor,” I reminded her.

“Well, shit, we’re not on that floor now.” Her face was inches from mine. “Besides, making out isn’t sex, is it?”

“It’s in the vicinity,” I told her.

“Shut up.”

We kissed tenderly — almost chastely — for several seconds. Soon our tongues slipped into each other’s mouth and began thrashing about.

Then she was cupping my balls. I broke away from her. “What if someone finds us?”

“We’ll hear the elevator. Or any footsteps on the stairs.”  She put her hands under my T-shirt and began teasing my nipples and tugging on my chest hair. My hands reached under her shirt, allowing my fingertips to savor the silkiness of her bare midriff. Then they moved up to cup her firm, warm breasts, my thumbs toying with her erect nipples. Again, our tongues dueled once again.

This went on for a minute or so. I was now, of course, duly aroused, my boner making a teepee in my sweatpants. Amethyst yanked my sweats to my ankles, unleashing my prick. She got on her knees and licked along the underside of my cock. I pulled her up to her feet and then knelt on the floor. I pulled her sweats and panties down and pressed my mouth to her moist, tidily trimmed pussy. My tongue found her hard clit, and she gasped.

All of a sudden there was a clank, and then a whirring sound. The elevator! We quickly pulled our clothes back on. Amethyst took her laundry basket from the table, moving it over to the row of dryers. I stood close beside the table, concealing my erection behind a newly laundered towel. Fifteen seconds later, a girl named Olivia emerged from the elevator. She lived on the second floor, and I knew her a little. She said hello and then quickly scooped up her clothes from one of the dryers.

“Close call,” I said, when she’d gone.

“Too close,” said Amethyst. “It just won’t work down here. My fault.”

“You made me so hot,” I told her.

“Joy tried mightily, but  she couldn’t come close to deep-throating his rod.”

“I know but… not tonight. Okay?” She picked up the empty laundry basket and started for the elevator.

“What about your laundry?”

“There is no laundry,” she said. “You were right. I was stalking you.”

The first weekend in November I was invited by Brady to join him and his dad at an Eagles game in Philadelphia. It was an early birthday gift for Brady, who took me as his guest.

Brady’s dad picked us up at the dorm on Friday after classes, and we headed out toward Philly. We’d barely left campus when Brady realized he’d left notes for his Spanish class back at the dorm. He’d been going over verb conjugations with Sam earlier that day. We turned the car around. Brady was still struggling in the class and was determined to spend some time studying, even during a vacation. Brady’s full of surprises.

His dad and I waited in the car while Brady went to get his shit. When he returned, 10 minutes later, he turned around to face me from the front seat and mouthed the word “unbelievable!” He clearly didn’t want to say anything in front of his dad.

A couple hours later we stopped at a restaurant along the freeway. When his dad was in the john, Brady told me everything.

He’d realized he’d left his Spanish stuff in Sam’s apartment, where they’d been studying. He knocked on the door that led from the communal bathroom to Sam’s place. No answer. He pushed open the door and found Sam, wearing headphones and nothing else. Porn was playing on his computer. (Kinky stuff. People tying each other up.) Clearly, Sam hadn’t heard Brady’s knocking because of the groans coming through his headphones.

“He was spanking it like a champ,” Brady told me. “And for some reason, instead of covering himself, he stood up. Dude, I never saw anything like it. Huge. No, make that YUGE!”

“What did you do?”

“I was kind of speechless. Kid’s face was bright red, of course. He finally put his T-shirt over his dick. I said, ‘You’ve been holdin’ out on us, man.’ I told him not to worry, that everybody does it. But then I said, ‘But you’re wasting that piece of equipment, Sammy. I know a ton of girls who’d like to have a crack at that thing.’”

Just as he’d said — unbelievable.

Our Philly weekend turned out great. Fantastic food. The Eagles were unbeatable. And at the end of the trip Brady’s dad gave him a $400 check as an additional birthday gift! Pretty cool dad — definitely more generous than my cheap parents. Meanwhile, Brady studied for the test just as Sam had tutored him:  a little in the morning, a little at night.

A day or two later, Brady and I were bullshitting with Joy and Amethyst in their apartment. Joy, as usual, was telling a sex anecdote from her past. This one was about how she and a girlfriend of hers had seduced a virginal guy from their high-school track team. “Imagine, she said. “Guy gets his cherry popped, and it’s with two girls. And I’m one of them!”

Somehow, that story led to Brady telling the girls about discovering what a mega-dick Sam had.

“That nerdy kid?” said Joy. “You’re shitting us.”

“Nope,” said Brady. “I bet you’ve never seen one that big before, though I know you’ve seen plenty. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw it.”

“Try me,” said Joy.

“I’ve been trying to try you for the last three months,”

“I want to see it with my own eyes,”   she said.

After we left their room, Brady and I had a talk. He said he wanted to fuck Joy so much that he’d do anything to make it happen. “You want to get with Amethyst, too, don’t you?”

I must have hesitated a second. His eyes locked on mine. Then hell broke loose: “Damn, Parker, you did her!”

I confessed to him about the interrupted oral stuff in the basement. He was furious that I hadn’t told him before. “You two live on the same floor. That’s against the rule,” he said, despite the fact that he’d just revealed his own intent to nail Joy.

It was my turn to snap.

“That rule sucks — and you know it. It’s just an excuse for you and Joy because you’re too afraid to go for it.”

Eventually, Brady conceded that the rule was indeed idiotic. We agreed there was no reason all four of us couldn’t fuck one another — so long as we did it somewhere besides the dorm. Soon we had a plan.

It was Saturday night at the end of Thanksgiving-week break. The five of us found ourselves at a fairly decent motel close to campus — one mostly used by parents when they visit their college kids. Brady had agreed to use his birthday check to lease an “orgy pad” for the five of us, if we’d all agree to come back to the campus a day early. Yes — five of us: Joy, Amethyst, Brady, myself — and Sam.

I don’t know how Brady convinced Sam. He’d obviously told him about Joy’s interest in his gargantuan dong. I thought the kid would never do something like this, but, as the cliché goes, sometimes the quiet ones are the biggest horny toads.

We had plenty of beer and hard liquor, condoms, lube and other amenities. We were strangely nervous when we got to the room. We drank and chatted awkwardly, as if we’d all just met. We put on some music and bopped around for a few minutes. Then Joy said, “Who the fuck are we kidding?” She put down her vodka-and-tonic and began unbuttoning her blouse. “Let’s get naked,” she said.

We didn’t need coaxing. We all stripped — strewing our clothes on the  floor between the beds.

Joy’s breasts were something to behold: plump, creamy and with big pink areolas. Brady, naked except for his shorts, pulled her to one of the beds and began kissing and licking her superb tits.

Or, at least, I guessed that’s what was happening. I had too much going on with Amethyst on the other bed to say for sure. We’d pulled back the covers, and I’d stretched out beside her. We kissed feverishly. My dick was fully stiff; its tender tip grazed her satin-smooth thigh. Christ, she turned me on! Soon we went for each other in the 69 position. Her wet pussy smelled like musky perfume as I pressed my face into it. Meanwhile, she began kissing and licking my eager cock. Remembering the interrupted session back in the laundry room, I was thankful no clanking elevator would spoil the fun this time.

Commotion erupted on the other bed. “Eat my cunt, Brady,” Joy was teasing. “Show me what you got.”

“Eat it? I’m going to worship it. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“All five of us fucked with abandon and came at about the same time.”

Joy gasped loudly as Brady went to town with his tongue. He clearly knew what he was doing. I guess those girls he’d hung with freshman year had taught him a thing or two. Joy made throaty, ecstatic sounds. Amethyst and I paused at one point to watch the show. Joy sat back at the head of the bed with her legs open. Brady, still in his boxers, lay on his stomach in front of her, lapping at her like a dog drinking from a puddle. After a few seconds I resumed my own efforts at cunnilingus while Amethyst tortured the tip of my stiff penis, her tongue sadistically flicking  the slit in my crown.

Joy’s moans reached a crescendo. She erupted with a shudder that seemed to shake the whole bed. Afterward, she broke into a fit of laughter and a few hiccups. Then she gasped.

“Sammy! What happened to poor Sammy?”

“Oh, I’m here,” said a reedy but surprisingly confident voice.

“Oh. My. God.” Joy sounded as though she’d stepped onto the face  of another planet.

Sam was sitting naked on a chair beside a small desk. His skinny torso was pale and mostly hairless. Sprouting from between his legs and stretching beyond his navel was a stiff uncut dick of shocking size — thick and veiny. A dollop of pre-come hung from the tip.

The rest of us gawked in awe for a few moments, but Sammy didn’t seem to mind. Joy pulled Amethyst over toward him. The two girls touched the specimen gingerly, as if it were a python with deadly fangs.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” Sam said. “You can suck it, too.”

“Or can I?” responded Joy. She put her lips around the big fleshy helmet while Amethyst licked along the ropy shaft. Sam began emitting the sounds of some unidentified feral creature. Joy tried mightily, but she couldn’t come close to deep-throating his rod.

Brady and I jacked off as we watched. Brady had finally lost his boxers. Yes, his boner was indeed small, though any boner would look small compared with Sam’s. Still, Brady had proved himself as a master of cunnilingus, so I guess he felt more confident.

Coming up for air, Joy said. “Sammy, if there’s a condom big enough for that thing, put it on and fuck me silly. Brady, you can take my ass.”

Amethyst and I watched as the DP got underway. Sam lay on his back as, slowly and carefully, Joy faced him and let her moist vagina swallow his erection. She groaned as she sat down on the whole length. Once he and Joy had found a rhythm, Brady eased his cock into her rectum.
On the other bed, I began fucking Amethyst missionary-style. Her pussy was tighter and wetter than I’d fantasized all those horny weeks.

All five of us fucked with abandon and came at about the same time. We sighed in relief and began to giggle. My spent dick remained in Amethyst’s cunt, while Brady and Sam’s were still filling Joy to capacity. We lay there for a minute or so in satisfied silence.

“Mucho gusto,” said Brady finally.

Sam snorted with laughter. “Mucho gusto” apparently had some special meaning to our two Spanish scholars.

“Muy bien,” Sam replied.

Then Joy piped up.

“Otra vez, por favor,” she said, which I later learned means “again, please.”

The rest of us were amazed. I mean, we’d all known Joy had bisexual tendencies, but who the hell knew she was also bilingual?

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