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The Zeta Omicron Rho house was the oldest frat house on campus, and the largest. They were known for accomplishments of their alumni and their ingenuity at constructing entertainments for themselves. Their residence was the envy of their competition: filled with fine furniture, antiques, indoor swimming pool, gym, and a meeting room lined with composite photographs running back a hundred years. Their counterparts on sorority row, the Zeta Rho Omicrons, were known for their high G.P.A. and their competitive spirit. The female Zetas had a residence equally envied by their competitors, containing a beauty salon within. The Zetas regularly socialized, and had a long tradition of the ZZ Cotillion, where each group provided an Saturday evening’s entertainment for the other’s alumni at different venues.
The first meeting of the Zeta men after Spring Break was a relaxed one until the Treasurer’s report. Treasurer Goggles Larkin stood shaking in his boots: “We’re broke,” he warbled tentatively.
“What the hell do you mean, we’re broke?” President Bill Parkinson yelled.
“We don’t have shit in the bank,” Goggles replied, squinting through coke bottle glasses. “Spent it all for the going away party for Spring Break. We got the hall deposit for the ZZ Cotillion, and the liquor, but we don’t have enough to hire a kitchen staff or to buy food. And we got nothing for entertainment the rest of the school year.”
A general hubbub flooded the Zeta house meeting room. Bill banged his gavel several times in a vain attempt to restore order before putting two fingers in his mouth and letting out a shrill whistle that almost cracked the windows. The frat brothers settled down after that, and listened as Goggles stood before them, his eyes distorted by his inch thick glasses, read out payment after payment that left them only $4.62 in their account. “Has everybody paid their dues?” Bill said when it was over.
“Yeah,” Goggles replied. “Even Tank Watson, who’s never on time.” Tank smiled broadly, rose and made an elegant bow, which was greeted with a chorus of catcalls.
“Shit,” Bill said. “We’ve got no chance for a fund raiser ’til the end of the semester.”
The men of Zeta looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders perplexed until Fingers Whitehouse stood up and said: “Hey, Bill, I’ve got an idea.”
“Chair recognizes Brother Fingers.”
“Well, Tank and Goggles went to culinary school last summer, so why don’t we get them to whip up some nice finger food for the cotillion at the Parkhurst Country Club. The owner’s a Zeta, so he’ll front us the money for the grub until we can pay him back. I’ll play the piano, and Lowell can belt out some velvet oldies. We offer them Pickle Party Punch and a very different money raising opportunity.”
Hostile murmurs filled the room and a couple of guys threw potato chips at Fingers. “Not must any cakewalk,” Fingers continued. “A Beef-Cakewalk.”
Chubby Atkinson stood up and asked a question. “Is that anything like the slave sale we usually have?”
“Yeah, Chubby, only instead of having them bid on us individually, they all pay every time for a chance to get one of us. And this year, no limits.”
Bill banged his gavel. “How is this better than a slave auction?”
“We don’t show them the ‘cake’ before they win it. After sucking down some punch and getting good and hammered, they’ll pay out every time, thinking they’ll get some great stud like Depp or Clooney. It won’t matter if it’s Tank or Chubby coming through, cause their money’s already gone.”
“Yeah, that sounds better,” Tank said, standing up. “Chubby and me’s tired of old lady Hemminger paying a dollar for the both of us. She’s got ten acres to clean up and she doesn’t touch it from year to year.”
“What’s this about no limits?” Goggles said, drooling a little.
“Since it’s not an auction, it’ll get the old bats interested and we don’t have to worry about slave bullshit. We smile and blink at act studly for them, do our Chippendales imitation. After they’ve sucked down enough punch, they won’t remember whether we did anything constructive or not.”
General assent resounded through the hall, and Bill put it to a vote, which passed easily.
The next day Fingers and and his girlfriend Kaylee Simpson went by the Greek Council with the program for their parts of the ZZ Cotillion. They were dressed in their respective Zeta sweatshirts with blue jeans and sneakers. Kaylee was a tall, dark haired young woman, pleasantly shaped, and looked splendid next to her tall, dark haired boyfriend with long arms and fingers. They walked with their inner arms around each other’s waists, and she was pointing at him, shaking her finger: “It’d better not be another damn slave sale. Mom was so pissed after last year’s event, she threatened to stay away this year, and if she stays away then I don’t get two hundred dollars monthly fun money.”
“Relax, baby. They’ll love it. Just as much as our guys will love the painting contest.”
“Yeah, izmir escort right. At least we don’t have to run around in those damn bunny outfits and get our butts pinched black and blue.”
They reached the Student Union and went up to the Greek Affairs to meet the Coordinator. Macy Evers was a tall, thin girl woman extremely long hair in pig tails, glasses and a business coat and tie, with matching skirt. She graduated five years earlier, getting to stay on campus with the help of the Iotas, who had enough influence to get her the office job. Her crossed legs behind the desk bore witness to years of athletic competition. Her foot tapped rapidly in the air as she put down the first page of the Zeta men’s program for the Cotillion: “What’s this about a Cakewalk?”
“You know what a cakewalk is Macy,” he said, spreading his hands in innocence. “Women make a donation, walk in a circle, and if they land on the right number, they get a cake.”
She scrunched her mouth in doubt. “Where’s the cakes coming from?”
“In house. Tank Polanski and Goggles Larkin went to culinary school, and learned how to bake cakes as well as anybody on TV.”
“Sounds innocent enough to me,” she said, stamping APPROVED on the form and putting it away. “Kaylee, what’s this about a painting contest?”
Kaylee looked at her boyfriend and then back at Macy: “Like those shows on public TV, amateur painting. We’ve got five art majors in Zeta, and the guys will get to choose the colors they’ll work with.”
“Sounds pretty high brow for a bunch of drunken old Zetas.”
“That’s a typical prejudiced attitude,” Fingers said, drawing himself up in indignation. “Our alumni are very cultured men, at the top of their fields of endeavor, and appreciate all the fine arts. I’m certain they will enjoy this artistic display and reward the artists appropriately, a belief our alumni chairman shares.”
Kaylee looked at him incredulously for a moment, then recovered herself and turned back. “Yeah, they love art.”
Macy looked them up and down before stamping APPROVED on the other page. “I’m not sure about this, but I can’t think of any reason to disallow it.”
As they crossed campus to their residences, Kaylee was silent. When they got to her house, she looked him straight in the eyes and said: “You turkeys better not screw this up.” She left without kissing him, her butt switching nervously as she strode away from him.
The Cotillion started right on time at the Parkhurst country club. The lady Zetas helped their counterparts decorate the place, contributing several paper lanterns and chains. The men was dressed in tuxedos and served the older women dressed in formals to a light, three course meal with wines, followed by their signature punch and large selection of delicate and fantastically decorated cookies. Fingers smiled at the swaying bodies and smiles he and Lowell received for their selection of Seventies and Eighties show tunes. Lowell turned back and gave Fingers a broad grin: “This is really going down well.”
Fingers frowned. “Yeah, don’t screw it up when it’s your turn to go out.”
“Now problem, sweetheart. Old ladies love to hang out with gay boys like me.”
Bill Parkinson took the microphone to announce the entertainment. “My dear Zetas, this is a landmark evening for both our fraternities, in this our joint Centennial celebrations. Our Zeta traditions still run strong here, and I hope they continue to run strong for another hundred years. Tonight, we offer you a unique opportunity: a Cakewalk. And not like any cakewalk you may have ever known in your lives until now. You may have had Angel Food cakes, Lemon cakes, Chocolate cakes, etc., but tonight the men of Zeta Omicron Rho offer you the most desired cake a woman could hope for. BEEF cake.”
The men of Zeta walked in two lines across the stage, wearing only their vests and their bow ties above the waists, their tuxedo pants still crisp. There were gasps around the hall as the most muscular brothers lead the parade. “The University limits what can happen at a Slave Auction, but I trust all of you can enjoy your cake any way you wish. Fifty dollars for each promenade, ladies.”
Fingers ascended the platform to sit at the grand piano, and after the women took their places for the first promenade, began Debussy’s Golliwog’s Cakewalk for the women to stroll around the circle. Bill drew numbers from a spinning wire drum, and each winner shrieked as they received their prize. Most of them happily escorted their new companions to the hotel a few steps away right after winning, but several stayed and tried to win multiple times. The punchbowl was refilled twice, and a handsome Zeta Sister over seventy was thrilled when Goggles was awarded her.
The cakewalk ended and almost all the women left the room with their beefcakes in tow. One woman remained: Mary Jane Simpson, Kaylee’s mother. Fingers looked around and went over. “Hello, Mrs. Simpson, is there anything I can do for alsancak escort you?”
She took a fifty dollar bill out of her wallet and put it on the table in front of her. “I’m afraid I didn’t get any cakes this evening, and you’re the only one who didn’t come through the curtain.”
He looked at her and down at his feet. “I was playing the piano, Mrs. Simpson.”
She gave him a sultry look. “I know, Justin. So you and I are both the last; you’re mine. If you’ll help me on with my coat, we’ll go now.”
Fingers swallowed and paused; her eyes burned into him and she sat immobile until he relented, walking around to hold her fur jacket for her. She wore a strapless peach formal with a deep cleavage, and he got a good look down her dress as he helped her into garment, shuddering at the valley of delights there. At forty five, her hair was still raven black without help, her skin flawless and well tanned, her lipstick and fingernails matching red. She gave him a smirk as she took his arm and walked her out of the great room.
“Kaylee says you’re on track to graduate in another year, Justin.”
“Yes ma’am. Already have a couple lines on assistantships, including Julliard.”
“Very impressive. So winning that competition in Germany helped you.”
“Oh yes, ma’am.”
“Call me Mary Jane tonight. Only tonight.”
“Yes, Mary Jane.”
“Good. You may escort me back to my room and we’ll see what happens there.”
It was a short walk to the Hilton, where the fountain gushed in many colors they walked through the lobby. Chubby was in the bar with Glenda Richardson, CEO of a local law firm, making her laugh with his jokes. It struck Fingers as strange such a elegant cultured woman would find Chubby’s repertoire of dirty jokes amusing, but he’d seen stranger things when he played for the Board of Trustee’s annual banquets.
As she punched the button for her floor, he shuddered a little bit. He was alone with his girlfriend’s mother, who was giving him hungry looks, and riding up to her hotel room. His manhood wavered indecisively between her palpable magnetism, her resemblance to her daughter and his fear of disappointing her.
They reached her room. It was a suite, with a bottle of champagne on ice. He helped her out of her wrap and she stepped out of her heels three steps beyond the door. Turning around, she looked deeply into his eyes. “Now Justin, it’s your turn. Kaylee tells me you give wonderful back rubs, and I want one. Do you think you can oblige me?”
He exhaled and relaxed. “Sure, Mary Jane. I’d be happy to give you a back rub. Where would you like to be?”
“Give me three minutes and meet me in the next room. Take off your coat as well as any other restrictive clothing and get a beer from the refrigerator. After you finish the beer you can come in and work on me.”
“Fine.” He turned on the TV and caught Sportscenter as he drank his beer, disappointed his favorite NBA team had been swept in its first round series again. There were no sounds from the next room, but a faint smell wafted through the suite. It was amazing how much Kaylee resembled her mother: they could be twin sisters if not twenty plus years apart. Linda Cohn gave a special report and he felt stupid because she made his manhood quiver.
Finishing the beer, he knocked softly at the connecting door and entered the bedroom. Mary Jane was laying face down on the bed, covers pulled completely off, stark naked. The curve of her butt was nicer than her daughter’s, and her long dark hair was undone. “Don’t be afraid, Justin. I’m not going to tell Kaylee anything about what happens in this room tonight. Come over, sit down on the bed, and put those magic hands on my shoulders. Once you get started, it’ll be easy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, swallowing. She sighed as he began working gently on her tense shoulders, and soon he was lost in his work. His strong fingers played scales on her tight muscles, and she moaned under his touch. He went up and down her skin, expertly dissolving her tension.
“Go ahead and do my butt. All the way down to my feet.” He hesitated, but as he began on her gluteal muscles, a strong aroma filled the room, overcoming the sweet incense drifting in the air currents. A flex and her legs spread; he could see the outline of her lower lips between her legs. Pressing his lips together, he bent to his work, moving down the outside over her legs and calves until he got to her feet. An accidental brush told him she was ticklish, and he found his mind wandering to look between her legs. She smelled so wonderful, ripe, inviting. “Yes, Justin, yes, you’re doing beautifully. Come back up the inside.”
Zeta men weren’t known for refusing invitations from beautiful women, especially Zeta women, so he worked his way back up her legs on the inside, his touch growing less forceful and more erotic, until he reached the base of the valley. She spread her legs farther, raising her hips, opening the door to him; his buca escort fingers walked through to massage her cunt lips. A large gasp escaped her mouth, and she thrust back at him, impaling herself on his thrusting fingers.
Fingers pulled her asscheeks apart and played around her rectum with his left hand as he worked three fingers of his right hand into her eager channel. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier, her face was light pink. Suddenly, she flipped over, her legs spread wide apart and her vagina dripping. “Justin, I think it’s time to initiate you into an ancient mystery,” she said breathlessly.
He shook his head to clear it. “Ancient mystery?”
“Yes. When I was in college, it was a secret between our two fraternities. We weren’t only the brightest and the best students on campus, we were the best lovers. I want to tell you about the Zeta Ripple.”
“The Zeta Ripple? Never heard of it.”
“Yes. I asked Kaylee about it and she didn’t know what I was talking about, either. My sisters and I decided we needed to restore this tradition to Zeta, and so all your frat brothers are being instructed in this fine art tonight. You’ve probably heard of the Venus Butterfly?”
“Oh yes. It’s the only thing that’s gotten Chubby and Goggles dates for the Spring Formal the past couple of years.”
She cocked her head to one side quizzically, then continued: “This is a little different. First, you put your face between my legs and trace my pussy lips with your tongue.” He looked at her dubiously. She nodded and pointed, and he bent down to obey. “Get going, moderate speed. Put your palms on my stomach and move them around slowly. Yes, that’s right, nice. Now remember what the Zeta looks like. Do the Z on my clit. Yes, again, again, oh my God yes, back and forth, back and forth. Now reach up and stroke my breasts. You’ve got such nice strong hands, don’t be afraid. It’s working, it’s working, I haven’t felt like this in fifteen years. Kaylee said you’ve never done oral sex before, I can’t believe it.” She gasped and shuddered; Fingers increased his pace, making her shudder more. “Oh my yes, my daughter’s such a lucky woman. Now reach up and pinch my nipples. Milk them, milk them with your strong fingers. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Faster, faster, faster. My God, yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, don’t stop if you value your life. Almost there, almost there, ah, ah, ah. . .”
She convulsed strongly as the orgasm hit her; her hands locked on the sides of Finger’s head holding him there, and he kept going as she writhed and gyrated violently. He reached down and thrust a finger from his left hand into her asshole, pushing it in and out; it sent her into stronger movements he thought would never end.
Finally, she pushed his head away and began the downward slope of her orgasm, her body twitching and her lips wobbling after she licked them. Her eyes opened and looked at him with an expression of deep gratitude, reaching up to tousle his hair. It was several moments before she could speak. “Was it good for you?” he finally asked, and she laughed out loud.
“Was it good for me? What did you think?” He nodded, and she smiled again. “I owe you for this one, you are not only a great student, but a true artist. I give you permission to sire my granddaughter.” She looked at his bulging trousers, sat up and reached down the unbutton his fly. “I think you need a little release as well. Since I haven’t reached menopause yet, I can’t let you fuck me, but give me a little time and I’ll make you as glad you’re a man as I’m glad I’m a woman right now.”
He laid back beside her and she got up to pull down his trousers. His boxers bulged painfully, and she pulled them down quickly to admire his equipment. “Kaylee’s a luckier girl than I thought. It’s been too long since I’ve seen a cock this nice. Hello, Sailor.” She leaned over and took the head of his penis in her mouth, licking and sucking until it became rock hard. Licking her way down the shaft, she murmured: “Zeta women are always the best cocksuckers. I know Kaylee hasn’t done this but after you show her the Zeta Ripple, she won’t be able to stop herself. Come to Momma, you big, bad, beautiful Zeta cock,” she said as her slick tongue started to play with his balls and her hand began stroking his hardness.
Kaylee was having her period, so Fingers hadn’t gotten any action for days. Before long, he began to tremble and shake, to which she responded by sucking down his dick and milking it expertly until he shot his load down his girlfriend’s mother’s throat. After finishing her work, she licked him clean and came up to lie beside him, putting her full breast into his hand. “Mary Jane, I would never have believed. . .” he started.
“I know, I project a very strong willed image that pushes most men away. And I do this on purpose, so only the best of the best get a shot at me. You’re getting something special tonight.”
They lay in silence for a few moments, stroking each other, until Fingers got an idea. “I’m not sure I got the theory down right. Mind if I try it again to make sure?”
She looked at him with big eyes. “I never got more than one Zeta Ripple per night; not sure I could survive it.” After a few moments, she smiled lustily and said: “But I’d love to find out. And if you get it right, I’ll let you fuck my throat again.”
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