Frat Party MILF

The pillow over my head was doing nothing. I looked at the clock again. 2:18. No wonder this Air-BNB had been available. Why had this party not been shut down? I flipped over again, trying to find a place where it wasn't so loud, but it was hopeless. All I wanted was some sleep. I had a long day helping my daughter, Eliza, move into his dorm, and I was due back early in the morning to take him on a Target run. I squeezed my eyes tight, as if that would somehow make it quieter. My nose twitched, a thick aroma filling my room. Did they have a skunk? Realizing what it was, I sat up letting out an exasperated sigh. This was too far. They were now using illegal drugs. I swung my legs over the side of bed and stood up. Catching a glance of myself in the mirror, I decided it would probably be a good thing to freshen up a little. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I pulled my hair up into bun. I stood up, but noticing the obscene jiggle of my breasts unrestrained by a bra and the my soft nipples poking thru the thin white fabric of my tank-top, I decided I needed to cover up. I grabbed the bathrobe, deciding that was easier than finding a top and changing out of the tight boyshorts I had worn to bed, and splashed some water in face. It was hard to look modest with my figure anyway, and I didn't want to give these kids the wrong impression. Jeff, my husband, always said that I had six feet worth of curves on my five foot frame. I missed him, but was glad he was not here now. He hated so confrontation so much, we would have probably stayed in the room miserable all night and begged me not to go.

Opening the door, I was greeted by clouds of smoke. Groups of kids, all college age, conglomerated up and down the street, centered around one big house with the letters Greek Letters DIK painted on the front. I was drawing stares, so I hugged the bathrobe closer to me and started to move down the sidewalk. I hadn't thought this out, I didn't know who I was supposed to talk to. I started walking, not sure who I was looking for. I headed for the house, walking through the open door. In the front room there was a beer pong table. One of the players facing me was clearly the center of attention. The hottest girls in the room were flocking around him and the whole room would pay attention when he spoke. A fat cigar hung from his lip, and his shirt hung open, exposing washboard abs and bulging pecs. He was clearly the one I had to talk to.

"Excuse me," I said, walking towards him. He looked up, and cracked a grin upon seeing me.

"Can I help you," he said, offering his blunt . I shook my head, and he took a puff, holding it before exhaling in my face. I coughed, face reddening with anger. This was not good. When angry, I tended to make rash decisions.

"Yes. I rented the house next door and I'm trying to sleep. Can you please keep it down? It is a weeknight." I said sweetly, trying to stay calm and not get to angry. If I could avoid a confrontation I probably get out of here soon.

"Ehh, probably not. You see, this opening weekend and we're trying to party. If you want to sleep, I recommend some earplugs," he smirked at me, before looking me up and down. He ogled my tits pretty blatantly, staring hard at the opening in the bathrobe. I tugged it tighter, trying to hide my cleavage. "You are pretty hot though, and I like MILFs, so maybe you should party with us."

"I would never! And what do you think is going to happen to you when I go to campus police?" I smirked back. Stupid kids never thought about consequences. I could only hope Eliza didn't end up falling in with this crowd.

"Oh, probably the same thing that always happens. They check whose house it is, check my ID, see that my last name is the same name as the one above the door of the library and science building and tell me that they are sorry for inconveniencing me." He stepped towards me, and wrapped an arm around me, hand sliding down and squeezing my ass. God his hands were strong. I tried to push him off but he was immovable. He released anyway, stepping back with a whistle of approval. "But I'm an understanding guy. So I'll play you for it." He gestured to the beer pong set-up. Now it was my time to feel cocky. In my time as a college student, I had been a beer pong campus champ four consecutive years.

"I'm in," I said confidently. "I don't drink beer anymore though." That was greeted with a roar of jeers and laughs from the crowd that now surrounded us. I blushed red.

"Oh that's quite all right," a sadistic smile crossed his face. I felt my stomach turn. This was going to be the type of rash decision that always gets me in trouble. "That's actually a common thing we hear from sluts at the frat house, so us brothers came up with a compromise. We call it Studs Vs. Sluts Pong. You can choose your own drink, often a flavored vodka, but my guess is you're more of wine person by now, and just drink that every time I make a cup. The catch is that since you have the advantage of choosing your drink, you get additional punishment for each cup I make. Just lighthearted stuff, but you can't back out once you're in. Still want to play?"

"Set it up," I said my voice iron. I couldn't wait to beat this asshole in front of everyone. His cockyness, misogyny, and general douchiness partnered with my irate nature when denied sleep had put him squarely into my crosshairs. He clapped and people jumped into action setting up the game as I took my place behind the table. He was still smirking, exchanging knowing high fives with his friends. He had no idea what he was in for.

"Lacy is going to be the game manager. She'll make sure you drink and take your punishments," he said as a cute blonde walked up to me, holding a bottle of wine. "Since I'm a gentleman, I allow you to go first." I set my feet, took a deep breath, and shot. I had not lost my stroke, sinking the first cup. Then the next. A murmur spread through the crowd. My third shot hit the rim, then bounced off. I cursed, but two cups a turn was good. I could beat him at this rate. He lined up, squinting, and shoot. Dead center he sunk the cup at the top of the pyramid.

"Cup Number 3." Lacy read, giggling softly. "Never say Delta Iota Kappa doesn't do job training. Prepare for your future career and give your opponent a Lap dance, or a lap dance to the person of their choosing. Bret, who do you choose?" She turned to him.

"As altruistic as I usually am, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to choose myself," he said, sitting down with a shit eating grin, patting his lap. "Lets see with this bitch can do." My face flared with anger, but then the reality of the situation sank in. I pictured my husband seeing this and my heart sank. I pictured my daughter, and it went even deeper. Still, I wanted to win. More importantly, I wanted Bret to lose. He made a lucky shot and I knew could beat this arrogant bastard, I just had to swallow my pride. I took my drink of wine and walked over to him, face burning red.

He grinned, "I don't think you can give a lap dance in a bathrobe. Is that allowed, Lacy?" She shook her head. "Sorry," he smirked, as I begrudgingly undid my bathrobe, letting it fall away. I felt exposed in just the tanktop and shorts, wishing now that I had worn a bra. The gathered crowd jeered rudely, as I stepped out the robe and over Bret's lap. He just wore the same shit eating grin. Lowering my self, I straddled his legs and began to gyrate. The crowd wooed, and Bret smirked. I danced lower, getting closer, twirling my body on top of his, trying to make as little contact as possible. He watched me hungrily, as I tried to avoid his gaze. It wasn't hard too, his eyes locked in on my tits. I felt each bump or jiggle, hating that he got to see them like this. It was hard not to make contact and keep my balance, so I was forced to grind my crotch on his lap a little. I felt his bulge start to grow, and harden. Each time my pussy, separated by only the thin fabric of my sleep shorts, dragged over it I couldn't help but think about how impossibly big it seemed, immediately cursing myself and the thought after. I was no longer aware the crowd watching us, just of him, his bulge and my winding body. The longer I danced, the more I seemed to be bumping it. Was it still getting bigger, or was I just dancing lower. I wasn't really sure. My tits were also brushing his chest, the soft DD mounds separated from his bulky pecs by a thin strand of fabric. I could feel that my nipples were somewhat hard, and he probably could too. It was chilly in here, he most feel that. He was silent though, watching me intently. His hot breath touched my neck, hairs standing up.

After an eternity, or so it felt, Lacy announced that I had done enough. I stood up hurriedly. I glanced down at him and noticing a prominent bulge in his pants. Simultaneously disgust, pride, and a sense of disgust at the pride surged through my body. I had been used by this douchebag and had given him an erection, and apparently quite a large one. I felt gross and guilty, Jeff and Eliza's faces flashing before my eyes. What would they say if they had watched that? Would my husband want to divorce me? Was this the best role model I could be for my daughter? If I, a strong woman had been reduced to that, what would happen to her, still unsure of herself. No she was smarter, and less stubborn than me. She wouldn't be in this permission. But on the other hand, here Bret was, surrounded by hot young women who he seemingly could have his pick off, and my body, older though it may be, had done that. He was focused on me and only me, and I felt my pride outpace my disgust for a second. He slapped my ass and my disgust quickly multiplied, retaking the lead, as he winked at me.

"It's still Bret's turn." Lacy reminded us. I had almost forgotten about the game. We reset to our position and Bret fired another shot, this one bouncing off the rim, rolling and falling in. So close. Lacy checked the cup number and announced, "Cup Number 7! This is fun one. We want you to have fun while you play so you have to keep a vibrator in your panties and on until you make your next cup!" My jaw dropped. This was too much. I started to protest, but Lacy was fast, bringing a finger to my lips to shush me. Her other hand was quick too, deftly unbuttoning my pants. She turned, grabbing a vibrator that was on the side table and sliding it into my panties, her fingers brushing my labia. She smirked, feeling the tinge of dampness, winking at me and with a click of button it was on, buzzing low. I let out moan, legs shaking. Lacy had positioned it perfectly, pressed up against my clit while splitting my lips open just a bit. I grabbed the table to support myself, legs shaking. Lacy forced the cup into my hand. I took a deep drink of wine, struggling to stand, my legs jello. It was on low, so I wasn't going to bring me to orgasm anytime soon, but it definitely hurt my concentration. As I looked away, overcome momentarily by the sensation, the crowd cheered. Bret had made another cup. This was going to fast.

"Cup Number 4! By this point you must know why you're here, but we need to see if you worth our time. Prove your skilled and blow this dildo," Lacy read, pulling out a black dildo and handing me another glass of wine.

"Like any of you are even this size," I said, staring at the menacing sex toy and taking my drink down. The crowd reacted to that with a lot of loud OOOOs, but Bret cracked what looked to be a genuine smile. The dildo was only slightly larger than my Jeff's cock, which I knew was five inches. These frat boys were obviously compensating for something, so there were no way they were this big. Lacy held up it and I opened my lips, wrapping my lips around the plastic phallus. It didn't taste plasticy, but I couldn't place it. I bobbed my head, the vibrator pulsed, and I moaned, forcing more into my mouth. The crowd jeered, it must of seemed like I was enjoying the blowjob aspect of this. I knew it had more to do with vibrator that was shaking against my clit, but regardless I was starting to get wet as I sucked a dildo in a crowd of college students. I hoped no-one could tell. I had never enjoyed sucking cock, and Jeff never asked so I hadn't given head in a while and had certainly never moaned while doing so. It was also taking me a long time to get all the way down and the vibrator was doing work. I struggled to open my throat gagging a little. Just tip peaked in. I could feel my eyes start to water. I moaned again, vibrator pulsing on my clit. I reached Lacy's fingers and, I guess, had proven my skills. I pulled back, panting for air, when the roar of the onlookers informed me that once again, Bret had made his cup. He was not even giving me time to prepare or find my feet. Maybe I should quit, I thought but then we made eye contact, his face the picture of cockiness. I felt a surge of rage. I had to beat him. If only I could get another shot. He had to miss eventually, right?

"Cup Number 1! No use hiding who you really are anymore, you need to strip!" This time Lacy gave me the wine first, which I slugged down, hoping for it give me courage. Instead, it just made my head spin even more. Shaking, I grabbed the hem of my tank top and lifted it over my head, stretching up. My breasts lifted with shirt, dropping back down and then bouncing up, still perky after all these years. My small pink nipples jutted out, capping the milky white mounds. Wolf-whistles filled the air as crowd ogled me. I wondered what my husband would think if he could see me. He had told me there was no situation where he would mind seeing my tits, but this might be an exception I thought. No one who was actually in the room seemed to mind, the crowd openly gawking. I flushed red, as I saw flashes start to go off. I figured it would be useless to protest, there were too many of them to check all their phones and they were probably already being sent out. All I could hope was that Eliza would never see any of these pics. She wouldn't he hanging out here, she was the studious type I told myself again. Bret was bound to miss soon, and then it was my turn I reassured myself, hooking my fingers into the waistband of my boy shorts and panties together. The crowd got louder as I pulled them down, pooling them at my feet. You could see the sheen of fluid dripping down my thigh, and my face burned red.

"Nice, I like them shaved," Bret said, staring at my crotch with lust filled eyes. I got even redder. I shaved earlier that night, having planned on surprising my husband upon my return home. It had been a while since we had had sex and I wanted to make it special for him. But instead I was now nude in the middle of a frat party, my juices running down my thighs, more than had ever run for him. Lacy hurried over, lightly tapeing the vibrator in place. I had hoped I was done with it, but I should have known I wasn't that lucky. I bite my lip, again acutely aware of its low buzz against my clit. Never averting his eyes from my shaking sex, Bret fired another shot. I watched this one, impressed by his form, watching his arms, chest and abs work together. He had so many muscles...I snapped back to reality to watch as again he sunk it dead center, as I should have known he would.

"Cup Number 6!" Lacy broke the spell. "Every player should have to deal with the same influences. If your opponent is smoking something, you have to take a hit." I drank my wine quickly, as Bret crossed over to me handing the blunt. Nice of him not to make me walk, I thought. Maybe he wasn't so bad. I took a deep puff, and immediately start coughing. It had been years since I had smoked, and even then I was never much of a stoner. Quickly, my head became even more fuzzy. Weed must have gotten way stronger. Bret was laughing at me. I didn't like that. I felt myself getting mad, not so much at him for mocking me, but at myself for being mockable. I was a middle aged women, at a frat party, wearing only a vibrator, unable to handle my weed. I was pathetic. He should be laughing. He walked back to his side, throwing the ball over his shoulder as he crossed the line. It rimmed around the edge of the cup before falling in. Why would I have doubted him, even if he wasn't looking?

"Cup Number 9! Bad girls need to be punished, so you'll be punished by how bad you are at this game. Your opponent must spank you once for every cup on you have left to sink. If you don't want him to use the paddle, it's twice per cup." Lacy picked up a paddle, causing me to gulp nervously. It was big, made of black wood that glinted menacingly, with holes of various size cut out to cause even more pain. Bret walked over, taking the paddle from her and slapping it against his palm. I couldn't take eight spanks from that thing, especially not from someone as muscular as Bret.

"I don't want the paddle," I said hurriedly, desperate to avoid that pain.

"Good," Bret smirked, sitting down. "I didn't want to wreck such a nice ass. At least not that way." He patted his lap, inviting to bend over his legs. Lacy handed me a cup of wine, and I drank it. I was way to drunk, I realized, and the blunt was having some effect on me. My head spun as Lacy pushed me over Bret's lap. My ass stuck up in the air, his legs pressed into my stomach, tits over the other side. I lay there waiting, bracing myself with fear. His hand came down hard, causing me to lurch across his lap, my ass instantly stinging with pain. The slap echoed through the room, loud enough to be heard over the music. My whimper was a pathetic follow-up, eyes welling with tears at the force of his spank. He rubbed ass gently, soothing the sting slightly. He kept massaging, lulling me it to a relaxed state. Then he rained down another devastating blow, forcing a grunt of pain from my lips. This time he gripped my asscheek for emphasis, give it a shake. I felt my pussy dampen, his finger digging into my soft flesh.

"God, this is a nice ass, especially for an old bitch," he exclaimed. I hated the surge of pride I felt. I wasn't a bitch, or even that old. And he shouldn't be commenting on my ass, much less spanking it with my nude body bent over his lap. My face burned with shame. He gave me another spank, grabbing me again. I whelped, pussy getting even wetter. Then again, twice in row, harder than before. I squealed. I felt the juices accumulate at my labia and start to drip down my thigh. The vibe was rumbling and I bit my lip. I could feel his bulge surge, pushing into my stomach. It felt huge. I got even wetter, gushing fluid.

"This slut is getting even wetter. What fucking whore," He chuckled, rubbing my ass soothing the blow. His thumb started tracing the inside of my ass crack. I shuddered, hips bucking and back arching as his finger neared my slit. He took advantage as I raised my ass higher, spanking down hard, smashing me back onto his lap. I could fill the tip of his penis, rock hard, jutting through the thin fabric of his shorts, pushing into my stomach. It couldn't be that big, could it? He grabbed my ass with both hands this time, kneading it. He pulled my cheeks apart, thumbs slipping down, tracing the rim of my vagina. I let a little moan. He raised his right hand, his left hand still spreading my cheeks, thumb teasing my labia. He slammed his hand down hard, simultaneously slipping his thumb into me. I moaned loudly, gushing. I felt my walls squeezing him tight, pulling his finger in deeper I burned with shame, picturing my husband as I thrusted back against his hand. As much as I would hate for him to see me like this, I wished that he could learn a thing from Bret. Jeff was always too timid when he spanked me, or just in the bedroom in general. I hated who was doing it, but there was no denying, Bret was taking control and my body was reacting to it. The next slap was just more proof of that point. His hand slammed down, the sound echoing around the room, my ass jiggling. I moaned as he pushed his thumb deeper and up, pushing against my vaginal walls. That was eight, he was done.