College Gameday Fling Ch. 02

Then the tape cut to a video of my backside. Specifically, it was me in my dress walking down the stairs to the basement. I was moving through a crowd of people to get down there, and in the background there was loud music playing. This had to have been at the height of the party, because when I got to the bottom of the stairs (into the room where I was currently sitting) there were tons of people dancing.

The next minute or so of the video was a montage of scenes of general tomfoolery: people dancing, bartenders serving, girls and guys playing drinking games, and ended with me on my knees funneling a whole goblet of Hooch. My skirt was riding up and my cleavage was overflowing out of my low-cut dress.

I saw myself turn around, point to the cameraman, and beckon him closer. The narrator's voice reemerged, "Gentleman, meet our friend Jenna. She's an alumna. She just loves the frat and misses being its slut, so she came back! This video is an homage to her and the girls like her we see every weekend."

*****

How had the guys put this together so quickly? Did they have a damn videographer on retainer? Was I unlucky enough to pick the one weekend where some seedy porn guy happened to be allowed in their party?

*****

I didn't have time to think about the answer to that question, because the next scene showed some son of a bitch interviewer with the biggest douche-Jersey-shore accent ever asking Mike questions. The guy was streaming questions like, "So you fucked her earlier.?. in front of ya bros? She's fahckin hot isn't she? She was a slut for this frat a few years ago? And since then she was your high school teacher?"

Mike to his credit was trying to avoid the questions. He was telling the guy with the camera to back off and leave me alone.

I was not that surprised that I showed up in the camera's frame as it panned a little to the right. Mike was near me in the midst of a lot of people, and I was the center of attention. There were several obvious reasons for this: first, the top of my dress was hanging so low that I was sure that any moment both my nipples would pop into view; second, I was laughing and screaming incredibly loud; and third, I was letting all sorts of guys grab me all over my body.

To my left and right guys around me were grabbing my ass and rubbing my chest. The amazing part may have been they didn't just lift up my skirt or pull down my dress outright. It was incredibly debauched, but there was still no public nudity on the tape.

*****

From there the footage broke to the band playing in full swing and the dance floor filled with people. I didn't see myself for a few seconds and thought the movie was going to try to show that there was more than one attractive girl at the party that night. And yes, the camera did pan by some girls that were pretty cute, but then the movie cut to a feed from the bar.

Somehow, I was standing behind the bar in charge of handing out beers to the whole party. At the particular bar I was controlling, there was no liquor, only beer. Literally, the only thing I was serving were cans of light beers. That is the only reason why I was successful, because I was obviously too drunk to properly pour any person any type of actual drink.

As the footage clung to me passing out Natty Lites, Bud Lites, and PBRs, I sat on the couch and wondered why on Earth this supposedly porn-y video was still keeping track of me. I suppose the cameraman just had faith that I was eventually going to do something utterly debauched and that in and of itself would justify his lens' attention.

I'm sorry to say that his patience paid off. After a minute or two of me passing out beers to guys and girls stopping by the bar, the crowd eventually picked up on the fact that I was down to do more than just pass out beers. The final straw was the fact that the bin I was drawing from was running low on beers. It was a large and deep trash can-like tub filled with ice, water, and (some) beers. The deeper I sunk my arms in to grab beers the closer my chest and dress came to getting drenched. Well, as you guessed it, I eventually had to dip down so far that my tits had to dip in the watery ice to get the beers at the bottom. That really opened up the floodgates.

After grabbing about five in that fashion, the crowd around my bar mushroomed to triple the normal number of people. The cameraman's focus was beginning to be rewarded, because the thin dress I was wearing was beginning to stick directly to my skin and show off the curves of my body. Nothing was being left to the imagination. I obviously didn't have a bra on. My nipples were reacting violently with the ice cold water and were sticking out as if reaching out for help. My areolas are just about the same shade as the skin around them, but the thin, light-colored material that supposedly covered them was betraying that fact and just about the entire world knew exactly what was under my dress.

That's when the chant began. "Show Your Tits!" It started with three or four guys. Then more people piped in. Then you could hear a bunch of girls' voices in the din of the crowd. "Show your Tits!" Even with the rock-n-roll blaring in the background, it was a little hard to hear anything else. Then the song that was playing wound down, and the applause from the crowd appreciating the band's solid performance changed its focus to the chant near the bar—the one directed at me. That chant was picking up and demanding the slut behind the bar to, "Show your Tits!" Then the whole band room—of a hundred people who probably couldn't even see me—began shouting "Show your Tits!"

Watching this on screen was incredibly difficult for my "good girl" sensibility to watch, but it was certainly not too much for the drunk-off-her-ass girl being shouted at by the entire party. I watched myself on the TV as I tugged my dress down to my belly button and let my Ds bounce out in the open. Unabashedly, I gave the raucous crowd a stripper shake of my chest that caused my tits to bounce all around in their new-found freedom.

As a coup de grace, I saw myself bend down and grab about four beers from the icy bin and throw them to the crowd. The water shimmered off my tits as ran down my body. My nipples were as erect as they could get, and the smile on my face demonstrated how incredibly turned on I was at that moment. The cold also made my skin turn a little pink and furthered the impression that I was I was turned on and hot rather than near hypothermic.

If my smile didn't prove the elation of the moment, the clamor of the audience certainly did. The place fucking erupted. The cameraman couldn't keep his lens completely on me because the crowd was cheering and jumping up and down and side to side. There wasn't even any music playing. For a few moments all you could see on the video was a mass of people roiling in every direction and clamoring much louder than when the band, with their amplifiers, were blaring at full blast.

The next thing I could see of me on the screen was the lead singer of the band taking a beer from me, popping the top, and chugging it. He slammed the empty can on the ground, grabbed me low on my waist and pulled me towards him. Without hesitation, we began a passionate kiss. He hugged me tight and my pillowey breasts overflowed around chest. He lifted me up and my ass was perilously close to peeking from below my skirt it was raised so high. As quickly as he'd picked me up, the singer let me down.

"Long live the fucking frat!!!" he yelled.

Pandemonium.

*****

The camera cut to a frantic scene of the cameraman trying to follow a group of us as we headed up the stairs. Every few seconds I could hear my voice somewhere in the background yelling some kind of encouragement to a group. There were a lot of "Fuck yeas!"

Then I saw myself, tits bared to the world, being led up the stairs by the lead singer of the band. He was a very classically-rock n roll dressed guy: tight pants with some kind of intricately designed shirt that opened in the front to expose most of his chest. He was hot. I had to give him that.

*****

But as I huddled naked in a frat basement watching this documentary on a jumbo screen, it realized how surreal it was to witness something that had already happened to me, but was somehow something new. I didn't remember any of this. In my fully conscious, non-inebriated normal state I would never parade through a crowd of people with my dress pulled down. I've done some skanky things in my past, but those times were just there...in my past.

Or that's what I told myself, because even though I don't remember what happened, I knew exactly where this situation was going. I knew that the girl walking up the stairs was just as turned on as the naked girl huddled in the frat basement the next morning. My body's sense of anticipation seemed to be ramping up in perfect synchronization with the girl on the screen. And it matched because we were the same person. That may sound obvious, but it was more revealing than what may meet the eye. The "sober" girl who had all her faculties about her was getting just as turned on as the wasted, naked girl getting led up the stairs by an oversexed rock n roller. They had the same desires: namely, to be led up the stairs and ravaged.

*****

The video jumped to the cameraman passing through the doorway into a dimly lit room. The room was bare and seemed to just have a bed right in the middle. There were no decorations on the wall, and there was nothing on the floor. The only thing in the room besides the rocker and me was a bare bed with a bare mattress in the middle.

The camera zoomed in as we began our second fierce make-out session of the night. I was still completely topless, because the top of my dress was pushed down around my waist. I didn't seem to care who saw me or what the lead singer wanted to do later. Everyone who would ever look at this video would know what this girl wanted to do: fuck.

*****

Slowly, the douche/hot-rocker put his hands behind my head and began to pressure it down toward his waist. As I sunk farther down his waist, I knew that his video was about to enter into the meatier section of the porn world. My porn alter ego was not hesitating.

With both of his hands using continuous downward pressure on the back of my head, I saw myself undoing his belt, then the button, and finally the zipper to his pants. Once I'd freed those constraints (although not without some drunken clumsiness), I began to pull down his leather pants. [Oh my god, the guy had leather pants on. I should shoot myself just for that.]

He didn't seem to have on any semblance of underwear, because the second his pants got low enough, his fully erect cock snapped out of his pants and hit me in face. I loved it. I could see it in my eyes that I loved having his exposed dick waving around my face. It was a cupcake to a fat kid.

*****

[What happened next changed my life forever.] Next, he stepped out of his pants, and rather than just toss them to the side of the room, he reached for something that was in one of his pockets. As his hand emerged from his pocket, I could see him holding a small vial of something. Quickly and with assurance, he took the cap off began pouring some kind of powder on his erect cock.

"Sniff it," was all he said to me.

The look in my eyes didn't betray any hesitation. I extended my tongue and ran it the length of the bottom of his cock and finished by taking a good portion of the head in my mouth to play with. I bobbed up and down on the head for a few strokes when I disengaged, looked back up at him directly in the eyes, then proceeded to put my nose at the back of his cock and snort every bit of powder that was along the way. The cameraman got the whole shot perfectly. And damn, there had been a good amount of powder on his cock, afterwards there was nothing. Nothing except my mouth that filled the void a few seconds later. I took his whole six to seven inch cock in my mouth and started to bob up and down on it for about a minute.

"Uh, what was that I took?" I asked. "I feel fucking AMAZING!"

He answered that it was his own blend of herbs and spices. When I pressed him further he said Colonel Sanders didn't reveal his special recipe and neither would he. I just kept sucking his dick. As I got more and more into the act, he started fondling my tits and body more and more.

After a few minutes, I got up off my knees and tried to unzip the back of my dress. I was having some difficulty, because I was really fucked up at this point from the booze and drugs. But again, the cameraman caught the scene perfectly: out of the darkness a random pair of hands came up behind me, unzipped my dress, and yanked it down to the floor. I took two steps out of the dress and presented my completely naked body to everyone in the room. They had to have been several people in the room, because a small cheer erupted.

*****

"This is so surreal." I saw the myself of a few hours ago completely reveling in the exhibitionist joy of being naked in front of a group...and a camera. And sure to form, my present-state body, naked and sitting on a couch in the basement of the very same house, began to physically react to the images on the screen. The girl's confidence and pleasure on the screen seemed to be more and more my own, and I wanted them to be. Slowly, I began to have shared memories with that girl. Memories that relished the full carnal pleasures of what I knew was about to occur. But there was also some shred of doubt that seemed to try to perpetually break through my memory.

When I my last night's self turn to the camera and start to rub my pussy openly and flagrantly, I started doing the same on the couch. It was like the drunk-and-high me was reaching through time to my current, sober self to say that I didn't need to be terrified; instead, I should just use it as an excuse to get off again. My fingers' movement over my puffed up lips told me that my lips were still a little tender, but the incredibly sensations of new contact vastly outweighed any pain.

*****

The rock singer seemed to have had enough of the wonderful blow job I had bestowing upon him up to that point, and he pushed me back on the bed. Without hesitation, I opened my legs as he climbed up the bed himself and mounted me. He took his cock in his hand and began rubbing the tip up and down my slit. I was already as wet as I needed to be, and this seemed to be more of a taunt than a legitimate effort at foreplay.

"JUST FUCK ME! PLEASE," I yelled!

"Not yet slut, I'm having too much fun."

He continued to squeeze my nipples and rub his cock all over my clit trying to get a rise out of me. And it was working. I was boiling over. I was moaning, panting, screaming, massaging my own tits, and using my hands to try to bring his cock into me. Everything you would expect to see on a girl who was out of her mind with physical pleasure as well as some unknown chemical cocktail.

Finally and without warning, he drove home with his cock in one confident, powerful thrust. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was. It turned out to be foreplay after all!

Following his initial invasion, be began a rhythmic assault on my pussy that didn't stop or break form for several minutes. From the outset, I was into it. I wasn't some dead fish laying there taking the pounding, my hips were bucking back against his pelvic thrusts attempting to give as well as I got. My hands were on his ass and hips clutching him to bring him farther and deeper into me. My mouth was demanding he do the vilest things imaginable to my body.

*****

Sitting in the basement room I was actually proud of myself. Some hot girls get a lot of shit about sex, because they're bad in bed because they can be. Guys will always fuck them, and they don't need to build any technique. Not me. I could tell that by his reaction and the reaction of everyone in the room that I was something special. You could actually hear side conversations on the tape of the onlookers.

"Holy shit, this girl is a fucking machine, literally!"

"She doesn't give a fuck there's a bunch of us watching."

"Man, I hope she's got more in the tank than just one asshole lead singer."

More than the conversations, the camerawork was actually really impressive. There were a lot of whole-bed shots where you could see the two of us going at it. Then the cameraman would take some steps forward and get super-tight close-ups of the rocker's cock moving in and out of my pussy. I could see my creamy-white juices smothering his cock, lubricating his assault on my pussy that I was obviously loving. My favorite may have been the close ups of my perky Ds shaking with the pounding. No surgeon can recreate the natural fuck-jiggle of D-sized tits rockin and rollin. Finally, the camera would back off and give a view of the whole room. You could see the shaded outlines of about ten dudes milling around the periphery of the room. No one had there cocks out, but you could tell the general mood of the outside circle was fully loaded for action. At the first mention of potential pussy, I guarantee any one of them would have grabbed the sexual baton and taken their turn using my body.

*****

After maybe ten minutes, we flipped over and I took the position on top. His cock never exited me, so I didn't have to ease down on it. I just kept the rhythm going as we turned. Once on top, I was able to really get my hips involved in the action. I bucked back and forth and rode him like a bull in a Texas fucking rodeo.

At some undetermined point, he grabbed my hips and stopped me. The look of confusion and frustration overwhelmed my face. It was obvious I had been getting immense pleasure and he was fucking with my zen.

"Don't worry, hon. Take some more of this."

With that, he grabbed the vial from earlier—and I have no idea where he had kept it—and poured some of the powder on his chest. Without thinking or hesitation, I bent down and snorted the whole amount up my nostril.

"Holy Fuck!" I screamed.

With renewed vigor, I began bucking back and forth against his cock that had never left the comfortable confines of my cunt. My head was raised and looking up to the heavens, my mind and body exploding from some drug-fueled ecstasy that couldn't be healthy, but was obviously very pleasurable at the moment. I picked up the speed of my gyration. He picked up the force of his upwards thrusts. The tempo may have slowed, but the force of it picked up substantially. I think we both most have known that this was the endgame.

"Oh God please keep fucking me!"

"Harder!"

The sheen of sweat reflecting the cameraman's light began to show the immense amount of energy we were putting into our craft. And I do mean craft. Our fucking was approaching art. It was beautiful.

"Ah, Pound me harder!"

"Grab my tits!"

"Squeeze 'em!" My voice was guttural, but still immensely feminine. The pace picked back up without letting down on the force. The bed was physically moving around the room as we forced it forward and back.

Then with one final series of thrusts, it was obvious we were both climaxing simultaneously. I could feel his member surging and pulsing deep within me. I slowed down to a speed that could only be described as an idle, extracting every ounce of cum from his shuddering cock. His face was a mix of surprise and obvious pleasure as he drove wave after wave of cum deep into my womb.

*****

That's when I saw myself on the videotape collapse on top of the guy. I lightly kissed the singer and began initiating a post-fuck cuddle. A voice from the back of the room interrupted us.

"Hey dickhead, your band has been on break for almost an hour. Get you cock back downstairs and finish your set."

With that, the singer rolled out from under me, put his pants on, and left the room. He said, "Thanks babe," and left.