In retrospect, strangely enough, Becky had to admit that the shame of being raped and dishonored was minor compared to the physical discomfort she felt all that night. Her cunt was sore and stiff and sent fresh aches throughout her body whenever she moved. After Ted drove her home (thank God her parents were out briefly, so she was able to get inside without being seen) she lay down on her bed, legs stretched stiff, her mind re-enacting the horrors she had just been through.
Sleep came uneasily to her that night, and she awoke in the morning weary, still conscious of the aching in her brutally stretched pussy. She dragged herself out of bed when her mother called, limped downstairs, invented a story about muscle aches due to sleeping in an awkward position for her father, invented a story about menstrual difficulty for her mother, and got herself ready for the trip to State University.
The pain faded as the morning wore on, and by the time the Ryan car passed the WELCOME sign on the outskirts of the university town Becky felt almost as good as new. She looked out the window, drinking in the quaint, academic charm of the town where she would be spending her wonderful college years, and she was pleased with what she saw.
Henderson was a sedate town, founded over 180 years before, and it had its share of lovely old houses whose residents felt no need to sacrifice to the demands of modernization. Not the least of these was a street of imposing buildings, most of them graced by stately shade trees, their lawns featuring lounging furniture. This was Greek Row, the site of the campus' various fraternity and sorority houses. Becky looked wistfully at them as her father steered the car along their street. She reflected on the romantic novels she had read, the stories of young college girls so desperately in love with handsome young college men-stories set against a backdrop of elegant life revolving round the Greek-letter organizations on campus, with cute pledge stunts, such as scrubbing steps of administration buildings with toothbrushes; the sisterhood of girls who found pleasure in one another's company; the stunningly romantic, Georgette Heyer aura of formal dances, with bands playing soft sweet music while tuxedoed boys and their corsaged partners moved and glided cross a polished floor. She knew even then that some day she too would be a part of one of those organizations, would have a whole houseful of sisters in whom she could confide, with whom she could be at ease, and-dared she even dream it?-she might even find true love in the form of a fraternity pin adorning her breast.
"Isn't the campus pretty?" observed Becky's mother. Indeed it was pretty, Becky thought The buildings were classic red brick, their walls ivy-covered, and a spacious green stretched across the middle part of the main campus. Today, Freshman Sunday, the day when the new underclassmen arrived and began to accustom themselves to college life, the place seemed packed. New students strolled everywhere, guidebooks in hand, acquainting themselves with this or that physical feature of the campus. Goodness, Becky thought, there are so many people here already! What would it look like when the upperclassmen arrived Monday? There would be wall-to-wall bodies everywhere, it seemed.
A friendly campus policeman guided the Ryans to a parking place near the dorm to which Becky had been assigned, and the three newcomers piled out of the car to begin the process of moving the young girl into her new dorm.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Mr. Ryan asked in a puzzled voice as his eyes focused upon a strapping young boy carrying luggage into the building Becky had identified as her new home.
"It has to be," his daughter declared, looking once more at her campus guidebook. "It says Bentley Hall, right beside the door, see, and this is the only Bentley Hall on campus."
Her father shook his head, watching still another young man pack his bags through the door, but he and Mrs. Ryan followed Becky into Bentley Hall.
And it was the correct Bentley Hall, they soon found out. Becky's room ticket was duly stamped by a prim, eyeglassed young lady at a card table in the lobby, and the blonde newcomer was guided through a set of swinging doors that would lead her to her new room.
"Excuse me," Mr. Ryan asked the girl, "but why are there so many boys bringing their suitcases in here?"
"Oh," smiled the girl, taking off her glasses. "This is a coeducational dormitory. We have girls on one floor, boys on the next." Seeing Mr. Ryan's sudden look of disapproval she was quick to add, "But everything is on the up-and-up, I can assure you, sir. There is plenty of supervision. In fact, I'm floor proctor on the floor where your daughter will be boarding, and I don't intend to let anything sinful or immoral take place." She smiled again, and Mr. and Mrs. Ryan found themselves reluctantly reciprocating, but their hearts were not convinced.
Becky counted off doors, one after the other. "One-fourteen, 115, 116, 117. Here we are," she called to her lagging parents, and she took hold of the door knob of Room 118, flinging open the portal.
"Hi," said the girl sitting on one of the twin beds in the room. She was a short girl, charmingly plump with full breasts and ample hips. Her hair and eyes were brown and her skin was olive-tinted. A smile came easily to her wide mouth and showed off her thick and sensual underlip.
"HI," Becky replied, stepping forward with outstretched hand. "I'm Becky Ryan, and you must be my roomie."
"Sure am," said the other girl, getting to her feet and shaking Becky's hand vigorously. "I'm Marjie-short for Marjorie-Martin. It used to be Martini, but when my grandpa came over from Calabria he changed it, so his name would sound more American. But what's more American than a martini? would you tell me!"
Becky introduced them all around, and her parents set down the suitcases they had brought in. Marjie volunteered quickly to help carry in the rest of Becky's belongings, and so the four made their way back out to the Ryan car to finish the task of moving in the blonde freshman.
Afterwards, sitting in the dorm room, Becky's father cleared his throat and turned his face toward Marjie. "Uh, I wonder-Marjie-what do your parents think about your staying in a-coed dorm?"
"Gee," Marjie grinned, "I never asked them. But who could resist it? I mean, school-sponsored Orgyland?" She chuckled and then went red when she saw the look that swept over both the Ryans. "Of course, that's what everybody thinks," she was quick to add, "but I understand it's nothing like that at all. Pretty tight security, you know. But a lot of people get the wrong idea."
Mr. Ryan looked at his watch and announced sadly that it was nearly time for he and his wife to be on their way home. Marjie turned down their invitation to accompany them and Becky to dinner, and so the Ryans left, to spend together their last hour as a united provincial family.
When Becky had kissed her parents goodbye with tearful regret, and when she had waved goodbye to their car for as long as she could see it, she turned reluctantly and cast her eyes upon Henderson and State University. Her crotch felt much, much better now, and so she decided with a sparkle to explore the campus, at least to find out where her classes would meet, and generally to familiarize herself with the salient points of the large college grounds.
After carefully collating her schedule and the campus map and marking with an "X" each building in which she would have a class, Becky found herself wandering around aimlessly, just seeing what there was to see. She stared enviously at the people walking round her, wished that she were laughing and chatting with some friend right now on this beginner's tour, wondered if she might not find some friend while she was here. Marjie seemed like a nice girl, she decided, and she might be fun to be with. But Marjie was obviously a city girl, and wasn't it likely that she'd find Becky's Fayetteville background a drawback to possible friendship? Becky wished she weren't so rural, wished that she were prettier, wished that she were everything she could never be. And once more she found herself on Greek Row, looking enviously and wistfully at the sorority houses, wondering almost aloud if someday she too might not find a home there.
Darkness stole upon her before she knew it, and a horrified glance at her watch told her it was a little after nine o'clock. Weariness hit her like a sledgehammer as she stared at her timepiece, and so she turned her face toward Bentley Hall, eager only to lie down upon her bed, pull a sheet over her blonde head, and sleep till noon tomorrow.
The door was locked when she arrived at Room 118, so she let herself in. Marjie was nowhere to be seen, but the pantsuit she had been wearing earlier was tossed upon her bed. Becky wondered if her roommate had gone to take a shower, or if she had already found herself a date for tonight. Darn, she thought sadly. She bad been counting on having a nice girl-talk with Manic tonight.
Becky removed her pale blue blouse, took off her white bra, stepped out of her comfy bellbottom slacks, and slipped her Snoopy nightshirt on. She hung up her clothes, laid out clean underwear for tomorrow, and crawled into bed. It was early, but she was so tired that she didn't feel guilty. Sleep drifted upon her weary body and the soft mat of her bed was like a cushion of clouds.
Sounds intruded upon her as she lay dreaming-sounds that had no place in the sleep fantasy she was enjoying. She strove to reconcile them with her dream, to summon up persons, things, places, to account for their presence. but the attempt failed. Becky found herself stirring slightly, and her eyes winked open and shut sleepily several times before she was able to keep them open, adjusting gradually to the dim light that filtered into the room from the streetlamp outside the window.
"Shh," Marjie was hissing in a soft low voice, and then there was a muted giggle. "Stop that," Marjie repeated. Dim forms grew clearer as Becky's partially opened eyes began to focus, and now she could see that her roommate was not alone.
The short, cute girl stood by her bed, and Becky could see, even clearer, the much taller figure of a boy beside her. He towered over Marjorie by a foot. Becky almost giggled as she thought of Mutt and Jeff, and she wondered if she ought to call out to them. But why did Marjie have a boy with her? In here?
Marjie was standing slightly tiptoed as her bead arched back and her mouth fastened upon her friend's, and Becky could hear plain as a shotgun blast the sucking sound the two sets of lips made as they touched and tasted. Then there was an even louder smack and Marjorie pulled away from him. She went to her nightstand and lit a small candle, standing in a brass candle lantern, and the sudden influx of light threw strange and weird shadows upon the two newcomers.
Becky didn't know boys were allowed in girls' rooms. Was this what living in a coed dorm meant? she wondered. And then she had to stifle a gasp as she watched Marjie's fingers begin to unbutton the faded work shirt she was wearing. And even more startled was Becky to note that her roomie wasn't wearing a bra underneath her shirt! When the front of the shirt opened and slipped back, then off, the girl's full-sized fits, brown-capped and heavy, sprang free like young gazelles, and the boy with her made no waste of time in taking hold of them and kissing and sucking their dark points, their full curves. While he nursed at her breasts, Marjie undid the waistband of her jeans and let them slip to her feet. Clad only in a pair of panties she now addressed herself to the removal of her friend's shirt and trousers.
"C'mon, let's fuck," the boy whispered huskily, but Marjie's hand clamped over his mouth.
"Quiet, you'll wake up Becky," she warned him, kneeling as she did and applying her other hand to the belt of his pants. With quick deft motions she undid his trousers and soon had them, as well as his shorts, around his ankles. He stepped out of the pants and threw atop them the shirt he had been wearing. Marjie stood up and rubbed her body against his. Her hand disappeared between them, and Becky heard the guy go "Um-hm," in appreciation. When their bodies pulled apart his cock stood up, thick and high and stiff.
Marjorie lay down softly on her bed and reached a hand for the boy. Her fingers settled round the shaft of his peter and she pulled him to her with that delicious handhold. He slid down beside her, and they lay for a moment kissing and cuddling, her fist locked round his prick, sliding up and down its length with practiced skill.
"Take it easy," he warned her, "and save some of that."
Becky was absolutely stunned by what she was watching so surreptitiously. She was breathing evenly in an attempt to feign sleep, but her heart was thumping excitedly. Not four feet away from her lay Marjie and a strange boy, naked and lustful and obviously ready to engage in the same sort of activity Ted had practiced upon her just yesterday. But this wasn't the same at all. Marjorie was making no resistance whatsoever-indeed, she seemed to be quite aggressive, unlike the resigned martyr stance Becky had adopted while Ted fucked her so cruelly.
And then, even more incredibly to Becky's peering eyes, Marjie raised herself above the boy's prone body, turning round as she did so, and pressed her crotch squarely into his face! And, aiming her own head down his body, laid clever hands upon his stiff cock and bent her face low to suck that proud organ between her lips! Becky nearly jumped out of bed in shocked surprise. Never in her young life had she heard of such an awful thing. And not only was Marjorie sucking and kissing her guy's thing, she was letting him tongue-touch her own girl parts. And if the excited, agitated humping of their hips was any indication, both of them were enjoying it no end. Why, any Fayetteville girl abandoned enough to do such a thing would be ridden out of town on a rail?
Marjorie's head bobbed up and down as she fed the length of the formidable cock in and out of her mouth. Sucking noises were coming from her, slurps and slobbers and gulps and smacks, louder and louder as she ate away. It seemed as if she'd forgotten completely that her roomie was supposed to be asleep on the next bed. And as she ate him, so he ate her. Was he hurting her, applying his mouth to her girl things like that? Becky wondered. She couldn't tell, but the dynamic humping of her roommate's hips above the boy's head must mean something.
And then Marjie was groaning softly, pressing her bottom against his face all the tighter, making strange noises round the penis shaft gliding in and out of her mouth.
"I'm not far from blowing," the boy muttered, his words muffled by the muff in his mouth. Marjorie was still making soft contented sounds and it seemed as if she didn't hear him. He put both hands on her ass, lifted it off his face, and slid around, pulling his cock from her lips. She made no resistance as he reversed himself on the bed, lying flat on his back. She let herself be pulled atop him then, and his hands moved quickly between them. Marjie hoisted herself above his pointing cock, and as he steadied it, she lowered herself, imbedding it in her fluid cunt.
He's raping her, Becky thought. Just like Ted did me. Or rather, almost like Ted did me. Obviously he was doing the same thing-sticking his thing in her girl hole-but it wasn't quite the same. Ted had put her on her back and crawled atop her. This was the other way round. So maybe Marjie was raping the guy? Questions flowed through Becky's mind and she wished she had someone who could answer them, but questions departed her abruptly as she watched in fascination the way Marjie swiveled her hips up and down upon that piercing cock, taking it in, sliding herself up and down on it. His hands were round her waist, and her fingers rested upon his chest. Becky could hear the swishing of his prick as it reamed her friend's channel and she could hear the rustling of their pubic hair brushing together each time Marjie sank herself down upon his stiff prick.
Marjie was moaning and cooing, "Oh, oh, oh," as the cock slicked in and out, and her guy's teeth were gritted in determination-determination to fuck her to death before be blew his wad, determination to fight off the overwhelming sensation that threatened to make him drop his load now.
His cock slicked in and out like a sickle through high weeds. Becky knew that she could hear it sliding up and down the tender flesh of Marjie's cunt channel, knew she could hear it vibrating as it grew larger and larger with the load of come building up inside it.
Neither of the loving pair, it would seem, was now concerned about waking Becky. Marjie's groans were louder and louder, her rasping breath as obvious as a creaking door, and he was panting heavily as he slammed inside her joybox. And then with a mingled wheezy gasp and stifled yell he stuck her hard, jerking his ass off the bed as he drove her with every inch he could summon, pressing his cock into her tightly, heavily, dumping gallons of his hot come inside her sucking cuntal sheath.
The successful lovers collapsed together and lay huddled on the bed, Manic still atop, still impaled on his softening penis, her full tits lying heavily on his chest. Their eyes were closed, and Becky wondered fright-filled if they were dead. When they failed to move for a long time she knew they must be. And then her desperate eyes were slowly aware of the steady rise and fail of Marjie's back, and she knew it was sleep that had put an end to the labors of love. Regretful that it was all over so soon, bewildered that she should feel such regret, Becky closed her own eyes and saw flashing across her shut lids the scene she had just witnessed in the flesh.
Again and again Marjie and the guy undressed, lay on the bed, sucked each other, then fitted their bodies together to fuck. As soon as the figures in her vision had ended their bout of sex, they began it again. Becky tossed and thrashed, upset and excited, and when sleep fell upon her stealthily it carried her into a dreamland where the same scene recurred constantly, all through the long night she lay slumbering.