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 7
An Important Visitor and an Important Milestone
Every fraternity has "old boys" who just can't let go. They return to visit the chapter whenever they can, and some even visit chapters on other campuses to relive their happier days of brotherhood. Most places they are patronized at best but more often looked upon with mild annoyance.
Not so at Delta Iota Kappa. Sure, DIKa has its share of "old boys," but they form an important adjunct to the active group. First, they give money. Starting in the mid-thirties it became the custom for alums to be "thirdies." That is, when they contributed to the university, they sent a check for half that amount to DIK. Consequently, the fraternity became one of the wealthiest in the nation, despite its remaining a local; and its charitable work became nationally renowned. Second, they provide leadership; not formally, but by visiting and offering advice and counsel to the current officers. This function allows the leaders of the chapter to gain managerial experience far beyond their years, and all the members to participate in important decision making without fear of "going off the deep end." And finally, by getting to know the boys, they become a part of an important network that mentors DIKas throughout life.
Ronald Cockrell was one of the most important of the "old boys." He was also a trustee of the university. So he made his presence known whenever the trustees met. While James and George were listening to Paxton's declamation, Cockrell was closeted with DIKa's president, Cornell Wallace.
After ritually shaking dicks and a lengthy discussion of more serious matters, Ronald ventured, "So tell me about your pledge class."
"I think we've got a great one." Corny, as he was known around the house, replied. He described a number of the twenty-five new faces. "And there's one that all of us are especially impressed with," he said. "His name's James Winthrop. Great academic record. Probably going to put Sanderson on the map in tennis. Good speaking ability. Everybody likes him. Really a neat guy.
"He's gay, but macho," Corny continued. "In fact, we had to invite him to stay overnight and sic Beau Bovier on him, before we knew for sure we could tap him."
"Well, I'd really like to meet the young man," Ronald replied. "The Board of Trust takes a recess about four and then reconvenes for dinner at six."
"I'm sure he can be available then," Corny said. "I'll get word to him."
James and Jessica both had an hour before their next class. As usual, they have coffee in the student union. Jessica was very impressed with Paxton's performance.
"He's been studying with George Blaylock," James told her. "The guy came to George and told him he had trouble reading Shakespeare when he was studying by himself, or something like that."
Spotting George across the room, James called him over. "Jessica wants to know what you did for Paxton," he said.
"Just gave him some confidence, I guess," George answered. "I guess he never had to read Shakespeare where he went to high school. So he asked if he could study with me, and I gave him some tips. I suggested he be prepared to read the two scenes that Samuels chose this morning, and we rehearsed them. But he must've done some powerful rehearsing by himself, because he didn't do nearly as well last night as he did this morning.
"We're going to get together again. I thought he was a pain before, but he sort of grows on you."
The three of them continued to chat until time for the next class. James found himself becoming very fond of George, and he and Jessica were increasingly comfortable with one another. He was thinking of inviting her to go with him to the next football game. It was against North Carolina State. The defeat shouldn't be quite so stunning.
James had been alerted that Ronald Cockrell wanted to meet him, so he was waiting in his room at four o'clock. He didn't have to wait long. President Wallace brought Cockrell up, introduced him to James, and left the two to talk.
At forty Cockrell was a stunning man. His slightly graying temples were the only hint of his age. His handsome face had not a wrinkle. His t-shaped torso was as trim and muscular as it had been when he was an undergraduate diving star. And his expensively tailored clothing showed his six-foot-plus body to perfect advantage. "It's really good to meet you, James," he said. "I understand you prefer James' to Jim.'"
"Yes, sir, I do; and it's great to meet you too."
"A lot of us alums like to get to know you boys, when we have the chance," Cockrell continued. "And I'm luckier than most, since I'm on campus six or more times a year. You've settled in o.k.?"
"Oh, yes sir. And I really feel lucky to have been tapped by DIKa. It's a great outfit."
"That's always been what's made DIKa great," the older man responded. "We've all felt lucky to be invited, and have gone on to do our best to hold up the DIKa tradition.
"You're from Dallas?"
"Yes, sir, Highland Park, if you're familiar with the metroplex."
"Oh, yes. A very nice area.
"And do you know what you'll be majoring in?"
Cockrell put James completely at ease and in five minutes they were chatting like they'd known each other for years. Then Cockrell broached the subject he was really interested in. "Cornell tells me you're gay," he said.
"Well...yes I am," James replied, "although that's not something I'd have admitted to a few weeks ago."
The older man chuckled. "Yes, I understand you did such a good job of hiding your sexuality you almost didn't get a bid. I'm gay too, you know.
"Oh, a couple of years out of college I got married. We were the perfect couple. One of those `marriages made in heaven.' We had two children. But I couldn't handle it. We were divorced ten years ago. She and the children live in New York. My son goes to Yale.
"I'd always known I was gay. The open attitude toward sex at Delta Iota Kappa meant a lot to me. I'm sure it'll mean a lot to you as well. And I've also known gay men who have made a real success at marriage. I just didn't happen to be one of them.
"Publically, I'm still in the closet, of course. I sure as hell wouldn't be a Sanderson trustee if it were known I was gay. But I have my share of fun. Nobody should be ashamed of that."
James was thinking that this must be the real reason he was selected for this interview. And he was right. But what Cockrell was telling him gave him even more self-confidence.
"Thanks for letting me know," James said. "Until I got here, I don't guess I was ashamed, just scared people would find out." Then grinning, he added, "The last week I've been kept busy teaching other pledges what it's all about."
"I'll bet," Cockrell laughed. Then he asked, "Have you ever been with an older man?"
"No, sir," James answered. "Until I came to Sanderson the only person I'd been with was my best friend back home."
"Do you find me at all attractive?" Cockrell probed.
"God!" the younger man replied, "who wouldn't find you attractive! You turned me on the minute you walked in."
Without another word Cockrell reached for James' crotch and gave it a squeeze. "You know damned well I've had to fight to keep my hands off you," he panted.
Ronald Cockrell, multi-millionaire trustee of Sanderson University, was on his knees, opening the fly of the young pledge in front of him, and feasting on the beautiful pole being presented to him.
"Don't mess up your suit, sir," James said.
"Past time you called me `sir,' isn't it? My name's Ronald."
Soon they were both naked. Cockrell's suit and silk shirt were neatly hung in James' closet, and they were stretched beside each other on James' bunk.
"You have a nice body," Ronald whispered, as he gently massaged James' pecs and abs.
"Yours is something else," James replied.
They took their time, enjoying the feel of each other. James cupped Ronald's jewels, and Ronald said, "It feels so much better when someone else touches you, doesn't it?"
"Oh, yes. Yesss," James said as he finally felt Ronald's lips close around his rigid organ.
Ronald sucked slowly and passionately until he sensed James' excitement mounting. Then he stopped. "I want you in my ass," he pleaded.
James had never fucked anyone but his friend, William Hudson, back home. The idea of putting his dick in this stud of an older man thrilled him beyond imagining. He could hardly believe what he'd just heard.
"You won't need lube. Spit will do," Ronald instructed.
With Ron on his back, James entered the well-used ass of his partner and rammed his dick home in one thrust. The older man grunted, but smiled with joy as James began to rhythmically prime his seven inch pump in anticipation of having it gush a mammoth load. He didn't rush, but as Ronald grabbed his cheeks, he sped up his motion, reaching the short strokes with a passion he didn't know he possessed. He dumped strand after strand of college-boy cream into the Ronald's chute. Ronald in turn cried out in ecstasy each time he felt the younger man's dick flex; and James watched the sheer pleasure on the older man's face.
They lay peacefully for a time, and then began to massage each other's bodies again. This time their foreplay climaxed with James taking Ronald's thick tool in his mouth, sucking him to a passionate climax and expertly swallowing the ample gift that the older man's dick delivered. It was after five-thirty when they dressed, and James escorted Mr. Cockrell downstairs.
In the common room Cockrell greeted a number of the assembled actives, and James introduced the "old boy" to several of the pledges, including George. "George Blaylock?" Cockrell repeated. "Simon Blaylock's son?"
"Why, yes sir," George grinned.
"Simon was two years ahead of me," Cockrell crowed. "Great you're here."
It was the following evening after football practice and dinner when Max Paxton showed up at the Delta Iota Kappa House. George led him up to his quarters, and following custom immediately stripped off his shirt. "We'll have more privacy here than in Castleton Library," he said.
"Won't we disturb your roomie?" Paxton asked.
"He won't be here for ages," George replied. "He does his studying before dinner and heads out to see his gal afterward."
In the presence of George's hairy torso, Paxton again felt that tingling that he didn't understand. It vanished, however, as George got down to the business of demystifying Shakespeare. The scenes with Pistol and his friends were harder to grasp than those involving the king and his courtiers. But in about an hour they had read through the next day's assignment. George didn't think that either of them would be called on to declaim in class.
George was beginning to take a liking to Max. "How about a beer before you go?" he asked. "We keep some in the fridge here."
"Sure," Max replied.
George pulled two cold ones from the small refrigerator nearby. "You must be warm," he said. "Take off your shirt, if you'd feel more comfortable."
Max did follow George's lead and removed his shirt. He had a good build, chunky like most football players. They popped open their beers and sat side by side on George's bunk. Max had had a few beers back home, but in Oklahoma they were 3.2. These were twice as strong.
"I never had much beer back home," Max volunteered.
"We used to keep a stash hidden back in prep school, George laughed. "Anything to break the rules. I got pretty smashed a couple of times."
"What was prep school like?" Max asked. "Must've been a lot harder than where I went to high school."
"Pluses and minuses," George ventured. "Good bunch of guys, but no girls for miles in any direction. Three hundred guys jacking off all the time.
"Everybody knew everybody was doing it, but we all just pretended we were monks or something.
"Was a lot of work, but it was worth it. Damned good bunch of teachers. Really made school interesting."
At the mention of masturbation, Max felt his dick stiffen. Chalked it up to the beer. He was really beginning to feel the effects when they started on their second one and continued to "shoot the shit."
"I didn't know what I was getting into, when I came out here," Max volunteered. "I guess I thought I could make it just playing football, like I did in high school. But I'm fucking in over my head."
George put his arm around Max's bare bod. Again, it was just a friendly gesture, but again the effect on Max was electric. And this time the tingly feeling was accompanied by a full-blown hard-on.
"Don't go getting depressed, man," George urged. "It'll work out. I'll help you."
Max's hand drifted to George's thigh. He responded, "Thanks, George. I think you're the only friend I've got out here." He squeezed, and then, without realizing what he was doing, his hand wandered further and cupped George's groin.
"Oh god!," he practically screamed, "I'm sorry, man. I don't know what happened to make me do that!"
George was shocked for sure, but he'd learned a lot in the past few weeks. He took what had happened in stride.
Tightening his grip on his friend, he said "Take it easy, Max. There's nothing wrong with that. Just hang loose."
"You mean you're a fucking fag?" Max instinctively responded.
"No, but I'm broadminded enough to know that when guys get emotional, it sometimes gets sexual. And I'm cool with that." Then, stretching the truth some, George added, "I did go to boarding school, after all." He had to admit to himself that he was turned on by what had just happened.
"Well...oh shit," Max said, thinking out loud, "George, I dunno. I've been feeling weird whenever I've been around you. God, I must be queer for you or something!"
"You ever felt the same way about anybody else?" George queried.
"Hell, no," Max answered. Then he added, "The only time I ever did anything with a guy—well, I aint never done nothing with a gal either—but, a buddy of mine and me were messing around jacking off—it was years ago, when we first found out we could cum—and we started jacking each other, and my dad caught us, and he beat the hell outa me, and, well, I've been down on fags ever since."
George impulsively turned to face Max and hugged him tight. "Be yourself, man," he said softly.
Feeling his chest rubbing against George's, Max went over the edge. He clutched George's shoulders and then pawed his back. George responded by tonguing Max's ear. "Be yourself, man," he repeated.
Max grabbed George's cheeks, but his hands immediately slipped around to his friend's abs and began fingering his six pack. George thought, "What the hell. Let's see how far he'll go;" and aloud he again said, "Be yourself," as he opened the fly of his jeans. He had learned his chapter room lessons well. There was nothing but skin under his jeans.
Max couldn't resist feeling the hard tool extended toward him. It felt warm and moist with the first drops of George's precum. Max had never in his life consciously thought about tasting a dick, but now he was like in a trance. Without hesitation he fell to his knees, took George's manhood into his mouth and began to suck.
"Yes...," George whispered, "be yourself."
Soon George had taken Max's head into his hands and was fucking face with a passion he wouldn't ever have thought himself capable of. Max's lips closed around the other boy's root as man juice squirted into the football player's throat, and neither of them gave any thought to what was happening. "Yes, yes," George repeated.
As reality returned, however, Max wept uncontrollably. "Oh fuck!" he cried, "what have I done? What have I done? Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!"
Once more George pulled Max close. "Calm down, buddy," he whispered. "It's all right." His hand caressed Max's privates. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"But I enjoyed it!" Max complained. "I'm a fucking queer!"
"Maybe you like guys. Maybe you like both gals and guys. But there's nothing wrong with being yourself, whatever you like to do. Lots of guys are gay. Lots of football players are gay. Playing with another man's dick doesn't make you any less masculine. Here!"
George deftly extracted Max's dick from his jeans. He was still wearing a jock strap, but George pulled it aside, and began to kiss Max's still hard tool. Soon it was in George's mouth.
"But you said you wasn't queer!" Max protested.
Interrupting his task momentarily, George replied, "And I'm not. And stop saying `queer.'"
After Max had deposited his load into George's willing mouth, Max seemed a bit calmer.
"You know, Max," George began, "I know I'm not straight,' if straight' means somebody that has never had, would never have, could never have sexual contact with another guy. I may be bisexual. I guess I don't know what I am. But I'm not `queer.'
"This fall my dad admitted to me that he'd had sex with guys. He's the greatest dad a guy could have. He and mom have a great and loving marriage. He's the last person I'd have ever though would get with another man. But he saw I was becoming a man, and he had the guts to tell me about himself, because he wanted me to realize something I couldn't have known otherwise. He didn't say it in so many words, but now I understand.
"The closest you can be to somebody is to be sexually close. If you want to be really close to your best friend, the only way you can do that is by touching and feeling him and, yes, by experiencing his body in the most intimate way. There's nothing shameful or dirty about that.
"I heard you say you enjoyed sucking me. Hell, I enjoyed sucking you. I don't feel bad about you because of what you did. I'm a hellova lot closer to you because of it. Don't you understand, man?"
"I...I guess I shoulda had a dad like yours," Max stuttered.
Once more they hugged each other. Max was no longer crying. George was congratulating himself. He had said what he needed to say without sharing any DIKa secrets.
Meanwhile, down the hall James and his mentor, Jerry Squires, were at their desks, preparing for the next day's classes. "So you and Mr. Cockrell got together?" Jerry suddenly asked.
"Yeah," James hesitantly replied.
"He likes the young ones," Jerry said. "And that's o.k. as long as you're cool with it."
Copyrigh 2012 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.