The Sex Chronicles
“Can I ask you a question?” He looked at me, probably thinking I was going to ask him the time of day or something normal. He couldn’t have been further off base. The convention had snuck the hell up on me, and time was of the essence for me to find a playmate for the upcoming weekend. “Are you married?”
He blushed. “No, I’m not. You?”
“No.” We stood there smiling at each other, but there was no salad-fixing going on. “Engaged? Shacking up?”
“No. None of the above.”
It was time to go for it. Patricia already had her partner for the weekend, as did all the other sorors in the D.C. chapter. I had been so busy pulling long hours in the courtroom that I hadn’t had a chance to go dick hunting. “I see. I was just wondering what you’re doing this weekend.”
He started blushing even harder. I got the impression he was used to being the hunter and not the hunted. “I’m supposed to go over to one of my boys’ houses to watch the fight on pay-per-view, but that’s about it.”
“You can never tell with those fights. Sometimes they only last a couple of minutes.”
We were flirting, no damn doubt about it, but I didn’t want a man for a relationship. I had one of those already. However, taking him to the convention was out of the damn question. He knew my name and everything about me, and that’s against the rules. The sacred vows of Alpha Phi Fuckem must never be broken. Never!
“You’re so right about that! The last fight I saw only lasted a few seconds. If you blinked, you missed it.”
“Hmmm, I see. Well, the fight might only last a few seconds, but I can ride your dick all night long.”
He almost dropped the salad container he was holding onto the floor but caught it as it ricocheted off the edge of the counter. He cleared his throat and gave me the most perplexed look. “Is that right?”
“Damn skippy.” I didn’t have time for all the bullshit. Either he was going to be the one or he wasn’t, so I got straight to the point. “Listen up, boo. It’s like this.”
He was grinning like a wino that just found a bottle of unopened Mad Dog 20/20 in a garbage can. “Yes?”
“My sorors and I are having our national convention in Atlantic City this weekend, and I was wondering if you’re up for a fuckfest?”
“Excuse me?” He started choking. On what, I have no idea. “Did you say fuckfest?”
“Uh-huh. Fuckfest!”
He cleared his throat, wondering how he ended up having such a blessed day. “What sorority are you in? AKA? Delta? Sig—”
“Nope, none of that.” I was hoping he wouldn’t pass the hell out when I told him the truth. The brother’s nerves seemed a bit on edge, but I like them timid sometimes. “The name of my sorority is Alpha Phi Fuckem.”
That did his ass in. “Oh, come off it. This is a joke, right?”
“No, not at all.” He started looking around as if he thought I was working for Candid Camera and trying to play a trick on his ass. “I’m for real. I want you to accompany me to Atlantic City this weekend and knock some boots.”
“DAMN!” He had that look they all have—the one they get when they realize that we’re not bullshitting and just want some dick carte blanche without the attachments.
“Look, are you down or what?”
“Hold up, baby. You never even told me your name. I’m—”
I put my finger to his lips. “You’re my cumdaddy, and you can just call me Soror Ride Dick.”
Well, by the time the last crouton hit the top of my blue cheese dressing, it was a done deal. I told my cumdaddy to meet me along with the rest of the crew behind Iverson Mall the next evening at 6 P.M. sharp to get on the bus for Atlantic City. The sorors and I opted not to fly or drive different cars and decided to charter a bus instead. We wanted to get a bit freaky on the way up there, and boy, did we!
The D.C. chapter now has thirty members instead of just twenty-four. It was a real tight squeeze on the bus with all the sorors and their playmates on board, but the more, the merrier. Some sorors sat on laps, with or without the man’s dick whipped out and inserted, and Soror Lick ’Em Low, a new inductee who has a thing for sucking on balls, got her freak on in the tiny lavatory of the bus.
The bus driver, Ralph, was the happiest man alive on the way up and almost wrecked, between trying to see what we were doing and glancing at the porno tapes we were playing on the tiny television screens throughout the bus. Soror Voyeur was responsible for providing the videos. She has quite the collection, so it was mad interesting.
We all got fucked up on the way up, and I literally got fucked too. My cumdaddy shed all his inhibitions, flipped my ass over one of the plush seats, and banged me slowly from behind while I sipped on a Bartles & Jaymes. Patricia’s playmate was a male stripper she picked up at some thug club. I could tell she was going to have problems with his ass all weekend. He was smoking so much weed that he had trouble keeping a hard-on while she was sucking his dick on the bus.
When we got to Atlantic City about 10 P.M., most of the other chapters had already arrived and settled in at the casino hotel. NYC, L.A., and Atlanta were strongly representing. Those three chapters seem to grow by leaps and bounds every year and have at least fifty members each. Detroit is up to about fifteen members now, and Chicago has about twenty. The Miami sorors had yet to arrive, but their plane was due in before midnight. They are about a dozen members strong.
The biggest surprise came out of left-fucking-field when we met the members of our new chapters from Nashville, Tennessee, and Atlantic City. The two chapters worked together to plan and host this year’s convention, and to say the new sorors are a bit out there is a serious understatement. They’re fucking wild, and you know that’s deep if I am saying it.