This is a story about college and fraternity life. It contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such is offensive to you or if you are not of an age where reading such material is legal, please move on. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story.
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DELTA IOTA KAPPA
by Macout Mann
Chapter 10
Spring Term
When George Blaylock's father had attended Sanderson in the early fifties, an undergraduate having his own car was almost unheard of. In 1979 it was still fairly unusual, and for a freshman to have one was still almost unheard of. So James was an instant celebrity.
Not that the car got that much use. He didn't feel the need to "get away," like he'd expected he'd want to. James and George and Jessica did drive over to Williamsburg one weekend. Stayed at the Williamsburg Inn. Very proper. Jessica had her own room, and George and James shared in more ways than one. All three soaked up Colonial Virginia, as the restoration envisioned it.
James' A in Freshman English excused him from having to take the second semester, but he had liked Mr. Samuels' class so much that he opted to take it anyway. Besides, Jerry Squires had reminded him that it would be an easy A, since any lower grade would signal that he shouldn't have been exempted in the first place.
He continued to do well in debate. And it was time to begin tennis practice in earnest. Sanderson had two indoor courts and from time to time James had been able to pick up a match or two. His fraternity brother, Winston Crockett, "played a little," and they'd gone a few rounds; but Winston was no match for James.
Mr. Tatum, the tennis coach, saw James' potential immediately. For doubles he paired the freshman with his best senior, Willard Semmes. But James' forte was singles, and he found he could hold his own against any other member of the team.
Fraternity life continued to move right along. Almost all the brothers were compatible, and although most restricted their man to man sexual activity to the DIKa rituals, there was enough other activity to keep the likes of James happy. Most of the freshmen had become proficient at Schafkopf, and many were becoming expert players. All were now drinking Dickel straight.
George continued to mentor Max academically, and Max was becoming very proficient in his study habits. His deficiencies were mainly due to improper preparation in high school. So those were rapidly being overcome through his extra effort and help from George.
George's dad did arrive from Washington on Friday, February23. Sanderson operated a hotel, the Sanderson Inn, which was open to the public; but it also maintained four small guest houses for distinguished visitors and benefactors. Simon Blaylock had requested a reservation at the inn, but when his name was checked against the list of alumni, he was immediately made a guest of the university and assigned to one of the guest houses. By chance, although the board was not meeting, Ronald Cockrell was also on campus and was staying in the adjacent house.
As soon as Mr. Blaylock had gotten settled, he drove to the Delta Iota Kappa house. It was about four o'clock. The day was bright but crisp. He hadn't visited the campus since his tenth reunion, quite a while ago, but it was pretty much as he remembered it.
Entering the common room, he encountered Gary Hansen. "Hello," he said, "I'm Simon Blaylock. Could you tell me where I might find my son, George?"
"Why, Mr. Blaylock, this is a pleasure. Let me see if I can find him for you. Won't you have a seat?"
DIKas were accustomed to seeing older adults in the common room. It was assumed that they were alumni brothers, and the custom was for each active to introduce himself. So Mr. Blaylock was kept busy shaking hands for several minutes. He felt it was a tribute to George that the boys uniformly reacted very positively, when they found out who he was.
In time Gary returned to say that George hadn't arrived yet, but would probably be back soon. Gary suggested that Mr. Blaylock meet the chapter president, Cornell Wallace. Wallace was delighted and invited his guest into his room, where following protocol, they shook dicks and Cornell began a discussion of the chapter's affairs. George's dad knew that he would be expected to make a donation toward one of the chapter's current needs. While discharging this obligation, Ronald Cockrell arrived and was thrilled to renew his friendship with Simon. They had not been classmates but were actives at the same time.
George had been watching James' tennis practice. Sanderson was to meet Navy at home the next day. When they came through the front door one of the fellows told George that his dad had arrived and was in meeting with Cornell. James went upstairs while George headed to the president's quarters.
"I wasn't expecting you so soon, Dad," he said.
"I didn't know when I could get away," his dad answered. "I gave the keynote speech, which was at nine this morning, but I thought I might have to stay for lunch. Fortunately, when I mentioned that I was coming to see you, the chairman of the convention told me to come ahead."
"I know you'll want to show your dad your room and introduce him around," Cornell said. "We'll be expecting you to join us for dinner sir, and thank you so much for your generous help."
"You're more than welcome, and it was good to talk to you, Cornell," Mr. Blaylock said.
"I'll see you later, too, Simon," Cockrell joined in.
As they ascended the stairs, George explained where he had been, and again he emphasized that he was sorry he wasn't at the house, when his dad arrived. Once upstairs he led his father to his and Blake Ransome's suite and introduced him to his roommate and mentor.
"I hope George's not giving you any trouble," Simon said, giving out with the obligatory parental cliché.
"Oh, no sir," Blake grinned, "but as you know, DIKas have a means of dealing with unruly freshmen."
They had a laugh all around. Then George took his father to meet James and Jerry Squires. He explained that James was going to take on a midshipman in singles the next day.
"Well George and I will have to be there to watch you beat whoever he is. Finish him off in two sets?
"I wish," James laughed.
After meeting several of George's other friends, they descended to the common room. It had been many years since Simon Blaylock had drunk Tennessee Sour Mash, much less straight. But it did bring back memories.
At dinner, Cornell reintroduced George's father and acknowledged Cockrell's presence, and asked Mr. Blaylock to "say a few words."
"Well now," he began. "I'm sure that one of the required courses at Sanderson is still Public Speaking. And I hope that your instructors would urge you never to succumb to the temptation to `say a few words.'"
There was appreciative laughter.
"But then, in my work," he continued, "I have to say a few words all the time: `Order in the court!'"
More laughter.
"Not only that, I've already had to make one speech today, this morning in Washington, so I'm pretty `spoke out.' But I do want to tell you, how great it is to be back at Delta Iota Kappa, and how pleased I am that you accepted George into your ranks, undeserving as he may be."
There was applause, more than just appreciative.
After dinner, the DIKas scattered to various pursuits, some remaining in the common room or game room, and George and his father joined them. Cockrell "conferred" for a time with Gary Hansen. Simon tried his hand at Schafkopf, but it had been too long. He no longer remembered the rules.
Finally, George's father pled fatigue and arranged to meet George at his guest house for breakfast next morning. Cockrell reappeared and invited Simon for a nightcap, and Simon reluctantly agreed. Cockrell didn't think Simon would want to "mess around." Anyway, Cockrell had already had his fun. Nonetheless, the two of them spent until after midnight talking about old times.
George went to bed happy that his father had come and had made such a hit with the brothers.
Early next morning George met his dad at the guest house, and they went to breakfast at Sanderson Inn and then enjoyed a couple of hours of father-son time. Neither mentioned sex, but his father did comment on how well George seemed to be accepted by his fraternity brothers. George responded that that was because they were a great bunch of guys. His dad also said he'd like to take George and one or two of his friends to dinner, maybe down in Norfolk or Virginia Beach.
George was enthusiastic. "That'd be great, Dad. I'd like to take James. I think you'd like to get to know him better too.
"But there's a place up the road about thirty miles that the fellas are all talking about. Called `the Clapboard Inn.' It's supposed to be super. People from Tidewater go up there to eat and people from Maryland and Delaware drive down.
"Could we try it?"
"Sure. I think I remember passing it on the way. Didn't look like much, but you never can tell. From the way you talk we may need reservations. I'll check with the Alumni Office."
"You planning on seeing Mr. Cockrell today?" George asked.
"No, he's already left," his father answered. "Just as well. I've always found him to be a pain. Just the sort to get his kicks from being a university trustee."
George laughed.
The Alumni Office confirmed that reservations were necessary at the Clapboard Inn and volunteered to take care of making them for the judge. He and George returned to the DIKa House for lunch and then set off to watch James' match. He didn't dispatch his opponent in two sets, as Simon had predicted, but James did win handily.
The winter sun cast a golden glow over the landscape as Mr. Blaylock maneuvered the rented Town Car up U.S. 13. It was cold but peaceful. The Clapboard Inn was somewhat nondescript. Its clapboards were whitewashed, and the trim was a deep and weather-beaten colonial blue.
Inside, however, it was elegantly appointed. Tables covered with white linen surrounded by authentic captains' and mates' chairs, wainscoting and crown molding painted a dark red, and colonial style sconces burning real candles spaced along the white walls. The judge's party was escorted to a corner table.
Simon had treated the boys to Scotches on the Rocks at the guest house before they left campus, so immediately they began to look over the menus. They started with a superior She Crab Soup, made with just the right amount of Sherry and real heavy cream. The house salad featured a creamy Roquefort Dressing. Then George and his dad feasted on whole broiled flounders cooked in fresh herb butter, while James had the house specialty, Crab Cakes, which were more crab than cake, seasoned with a fabulous secret bouquet of herbs and spices that would have made Colonel Sanders swoon. It was all to die for.
As they enjoyed their meals, Judge Blaylock both probed James' background and sought to know more about both boys' lives at Sanderson. He deduced that life in Highland Park was not significantly different from life in Chestnut Hill. He was sure James' family was more conservative than his own, but then Texas was more conservative than Massachusetts.
"Was your father a fraternity man?" George's father asked.
"Yes, he was SAE. Actually one of our ancestors was a founder of SAE, and he was disappointed I didn't pledge, but he said he wanted me to be where I felt most comfortable. And I'm sure more comfortable with DIKa.
"I'm gay," he admitted, knowing that Mr. Blaylock would accept that, "and it's great not having to be in the closet with the brothers at least."
"Yes," Blaylock responded, "DIKa has never had a problem with that."
"Everybody would sure have a problem with that back home," James said.
"Well, we don't go running around Boston saying `Gay is great,'" the judge replied, "but we don't feel we have to condemn people who aren't straight. Maybe in fifty years the stigma will have disappeared, but maybe not.
"I hope that you have overcome any prejudices you may have had, George."
"James has become my best friend, Dad."
Patrick Warren had been Sanderson's Dean of Students as long as anyone could remember. He was universally admired and loved. His attitude toward his charges had always been to not interfere in campus life as long as peace and stability reigned. The entire Sanderson community was saddened when he announced his retirement at the end of the fall term.
The week after George's dad's visit, Dean Warren's replacement came on board. Richard Baucum was scarcely forty, and had been Dean of Men at Samford University in Birmingham. He was good looking in that well-scrubbed way that you associate with a Billy Graham or a Pat Boone. He spoke in the cadences of a big-city Protestant preacher. And he set to work with vigor, meeting with as many student leaders as he could round up.
He had a joint meeting with the presidents of the fraternities and sororities as well as the heads of the independent houses. He tried to come across as a hail-fellow-well-met but it didn't quite ring true. He spouted all the appropriate clichés about working together and being open to all. Then he got down to the substance of what he had planned to say.
"I know that these days many parents of our students condone the use of alcohol, but this is a Christian University. I hope that none of your organizations allow drinking at any of your social functions or encourage the use of alcohol in any of your rituals. Drunkenness must be severely dealt with campus-wide."
"Sex has become a problem on many campuses," he said later on. "We must all remember that it is something to be engaged in only after marriage. And I hesitate even to mention the abomination of homosexuality. I hope we have no homosexuals at Sanderson—surely we don't—but if we do, we must all work together to deal with them most sternly, so that they may correct their vile behavior."
Dean Baucum spoke about a number of caveats, about ninety minutes worth. He spoke with the assurance that every listener agreed with him 100%, whereas even the most evangelical members of his audience felt they had fallen into a time warp.
"And one last thing," he was finally winding down, "I hope to see the formation of prayer groups in each of your organizations, that is if they don't already exist. I have found that that's the best way to promote harmony in the group and to deal with individual and corporate problems of whatever kind. To let the Lord guide us in everything we do."
"Amen," came a response from the rear of the lecture hall. It was followed by stifled laughter, which genuinely perplexed Baucum .
A hundred naked collegians filled the chapter room of the DIKa house. In the course of business Cornell Wallace brought up the meeting with the Dean of Students and gave a précis of what transpired.
"Sounds like we ought to call him `Dick Boy-cum,'" drawled Beau Bovier, to the laughter of all.
"This can be serious, guys," Cornell reminded them.
"Well, I believe in prayer as much as the next man," Bob Riley, the archivist, said, "but praying is something I do in chapel or in private. I don't need any help from any of you guys."
"So, do we send good old George Dickel back to Tennessee?" another asked.
"I move we take no action on Dean Baucum's suggestions until we see what else happens as a result of them," Marvin Banister offered.
"Second," came a voice from the rear.
After limited discussion the motion was passed unanimously. Later Cornell Wallace did call Ronald Cockrell to let the trustee know that DIKas would continue to take a dram of old George before dinner and solicit Cockrell's support, if that proved to be a problem. Curtailing the fraternities time honored sexual rituals was not even discussed.
After the initial flutter over the Dean of Student's proclamations had died down, life on campus returned to normal. George invited James to spend Spring Break with his family in Chestnut Hill, and James responded by offering to drive them to and from Boston. Max Paxton was spared the agony of a bus ride to Oklahoma and back, when he received an invitation to visit a fellow football player. Max had finally been accepted not only by the team but by almost everyone he came in contact with. His coaches in particular were amazed by the change.
It happened in Max's dormitory on the afternoon of Thursday, April 19. A particularly naive freshman was not paying attention to where he was. He thought he was entering his own room, but he was on the wrong floor. He walked in on two roommates who had neglected to lock their door and found one passionately rutting the other.
"Oh yes, fuck my ass...fuck my ass!"
In minutes what the boy had seen and heard was all over the building, in an hour it was all over the campus. Friday afternoon, with the Dean of Students in the vanguard of the righteously indignant, both miscreants were summarily expelled.
Normally, such an action would have upset the campus gay community, which to the administration was nonexistent. It would have caused the more liberal students to make noises in support of civil liberties. But it wouldn't have altered the campus routine in the least.
As it happened, however, one of the students expelled was the son of an attorney in the higher echelons of the American Civil Liberties Union. And the Dean of Students decided to go public by giving an interview to aspiring Parrot reporter, Sonny Rutledge. It appeared on the front page of Monday's edition, a copy of which found its way to the city room of the Norfolk Virginian-Pilot.
Rutledge's story mentioned all three students by name and quoted Baucum as saying, "These two vile homosexuals have damaged the psyche of this good Christian boy forever. Expulsion was too good for them. We must now seek out and eliminate every vestige of homosexual activity that may exist at our university, and make life unbearable for every so-called `gay' person, until they see the error of their ways and come to Christ."
The headline above the story in Tuesday's Virginian-Pilot read "Sanderson U. declares war on gay students." The AP picked up the story and it was reprinted from coast to coast. NBC Nightly News sent a camera crew from Washington who interviewed Baucum and some randomly selected students, including Beauregard Bovier, who declared that "Sanderson is a place of tolerance. In my view Dean Baucum belongs over in Lynchburg, not here." The story ran on NBC replete with Bovier's comment before the university's president reached Baucum to order him to give no more interviews. The NBC reporter pointed out that Bovier's reference to Lynchburg referred to Jerry Falwell's fundamentalist Liberty University,
Meanwhile, as a result of the publicity Carson Pembroke, the attorney's son, gave notice that he was suing the university and would be represented by the ACLU. Ronald Cockrell was demanding a called meeting of the board to discuss how the crisis might be dealt with and to demand that Baucum be fired. And the student body was up in arms, some supporting Baucum but many taking the position that the rights of Pembroke and his roommate had been violated.
Max Paxton was terrified. What if he was outed? He sought the advice of whom he considered his best friend, George Blaylock.
"Shit, man!" Max was almost crying. "If I get kicked out for being queer, my dad will kill my ass!"
"Steady, Max," George replied. "Just hang loose. Nobody's goanna out you. Some of us are even going to go around chanting `Boy Cum, he's gotta go!' You'd be surprised how many folks will know what that really means.
"Just continue to be yourself, man."
"But...well, these last months I've become me, not that stupid motherfucker I was," Max complained.
George embraced his friend and soon Max was oblivious to the worries that had led him to George's room. They were curled together, each enjoying the taste of the other's hard tool. Their near simultaneous ejaculations made the gay crisis at Sanderson seem a continent away.
Two hours later George had joined the brothers for their ceremonial snort before dinner, when Dean Baucum, who had been making the rounds of residential houses, appeared unannounced.
"Liquor?!," he seemed almost apoplectic. "What is this?" he shouted.
Cornell Wallace, who was later to have a distinguished career in the Foreign Service and ultimately become Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, showed his cold war talents to come. "Were you invited here, Dean?"
"This is University Property and I may come and go as I please! And I find you...imbibing!"
"This fraternity has enjoyed a tipple each evening for over a hundred years, Dean Baucum, and—need I remind you—back then, even the most radical reformers did not eschew consumption of strong drink, only consumption in excess." (He used the word, "eschew" in hopes that the dean would not know what it meant.) "And, sir, in these past hundred years no member of Delta Iota Kappa has been ever disciplined for drunkenness.
"And I hardly think, sir, that in all these years the university administration was unaware of our practice."
"That's enough," Baucum said. "I'll go upstairs now and see what else is going on here."
"Dean," Cornell was so nervous he was almost shaking, "this is a private residence. You are welcome to visit our public rooms at any time you choose. The only persons allowed elsewhere are members of the fraternity or their guests. If one of our members wishes to invite you upstairs, you will be welcome. Otherwise..."
A gong sounded.
"Dinner is served, Dean. I'm sorry, but you're not invited to join us."
Simon Blaylock was in chambers when the call came. It was Cockrell. "I think DIKa may need some legal help," began Cockrell's plea. "Will you help us?"
Simon explained that as a Federal Judge he couldn't become involved, but that "off the record" he'd give what advice he could. He did say that he wasn't up on Virginia Law, but..."
Cockrell asked if George had told him what was going on at Sanderson.
"I haven't talked to George, since I visited him in February," Blaylock replied. "I did read something in the Globe about some goings on down there."
Cockrell started at the beginning. He finished by describing what Cornell Wallace had told him about Baucum's visit to DIKa.
"After all these years," Blaylock laughed, "I'd think getting rid of this new dean would be an easy solution.
"But seriously, in most states it is illegal for a purveyor to sell or give alcohol to a minor or for a third party to buy or give alcohol to a minor, but the statutes do not address the consumption of alcohol in private situations, such as a father giving a drink to his son. I would think that your chapter president was on pretty firm ground.
"As an individual, of course, Baucum would have no right of access to the non-public areas of a fraternity house. As an officer of the university and with the university's backing, he might. The university could argue that it was acting in loco parentis. It could argue that since it owns the land upon which the house sits, it has the same rights of inspection as a landlord has with respect to his tenants. It could argue that has police jurisdiction within its campus. But again, lacking a stated policy from the university itself, I think your president was within his rights to deny Baucum access.
"With respect to the other issues you raise, it depends completely on what the local laws say. What is a homosexual act? How is the law worded exactly? It's not a subject that I've ever had to deal with, but my offhand judgment would be that, say, a "circle jerk" might fall under disorderly conduct, but there's no doubt that DIKa's initiation rites are homosexual.
"I know a very good lawyer in Richmond. He's "all right," if you get my drift. You might give him a call."
The called meeting of the fifteen man Board of Trustees was acrimonious to say the least. Cockrell, supported by five or six members, argued that the role of Dean of Students was that of a mediator, not an advocate, that his principal role was to supervise the Dean of Men and Dean of Women, that the religious life of students was the purview of the University Chaplain and criminal matters of the University Police. Others relied on the tried and true argument that if students had nothing to hide, they should not object to any oversight the administration instituted.
The chairman said that the students were young adults and should be accorded the privileges due them, but he didn't specify what these privileges were.
Cockrell argued that the Dean of Students should be dismissed for exceeding the authority of his position and fomenting discord on the campus.
In the course of the discussion one of Baucum's supporters said that Cockrell was taking the position he was taking only because Baucum wouldn't bow and scrape to his "above reproach Delta Iota Kappa."
The chairman said that he had had numerous objections from alumni representing a number of campus institutions.
The motion before the board was amended a number of times before a compromise was passed directing the Dean of Students to desist from fomenting discord and to consult with the President of the University before instituting new programs which might be controversial. The vote was eight to six with one abstention.
The action of the board, weak-kneed as it was, was sufficient to keep Baucum from further inflammatory actions for the rest of the term, but it did not tamp down the hostility he had developed against DIKa and now Cockrell. He was not present at the meeting, but he got a complete report of what went on.
Calm returned to the campus, and May was warm and beautiful.
James did offer to drive Max Paxton as far as Dallas. One of the coaches arranged for a fan to provide airfare from DFW to OKC. The drive would take two full days, so they'd get an early start and spend the night in Nashville. It was on the way there that James finally admitted to Max that he was gay.
"Shit, man," Max replied, "I've knew that the first time I saw you."
"Sure you did," James laughed. "You were too fucking busy telling everybody your dick had been touched by somebody in a room full of guys and trying to play macho man, that you wouldn't have recognized a queen if you saw one."
They checked into a Super 8 on the west side of Nashville so they wouldn't have to fight too much traffic the next morning. Got a room with two queen-sized beds. James was almost asleep, when he felt Max climb in next to him.
"I guess you know I mess around with your best friend," Max said. "I might as well let you do me too."
"If that's what you want," James answered.
He felt Max's rough hand cup his balls. "That's what I want, motherfucker, and your dick's telling me you do too."
Next he felt Max's lips on his bulb. Sure, James was horny, but he still felt like he could take Max or leave him. He didn't feel that way for long.
As Max's lips slid up and down his rigid pole, James experienced the intense pleasure that only great sex can provide. But suddenly Max pulled off. "I want you to fuck me," he said.
"I don't have any lube," James replied.
"Don't matter," Max answered, "I've slobbered enough on your dick." Quickly Max vaulted over James' supine body and sat on his prong, forcing it up his ass in one thrust. "Ahhh," he cried, and began to lift himself up and slip back down, rhythmically impaling himself on his partner's dick. "Let me do the fucking," he murmered.
James was totally passive, but he had never experienced such a thrill. His dick was in heaven. He shot five or six streams of hot cum up Max's colon, while Max chanted, "Fuck, yes," over and over again.
Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.