and then, sure enough, by the third beat, the foul brew they had just concocted for me washed down my helpless throat. and then he walked up to the urinal and dumped the whole cup in. They kept passing the cup around and around, until it was basically full. I realized as I watched that at least 3 of the guys were using chewing tobacco - it was the group of frat boys that all used dip, I suddenly saw. Then, grinning, they produced a red classic frat party plastic cup, and quickly passed it around. Facing the camera, they all flipped me the bird in unison. I guessed that most of them were pretty wasted by that point.
Of course, my room was pretty sound proof, and the most I could hear was a very dull roar.Īt one point during the night, a group of seven or eight of the Delta Psi guys, with Wes as the ring leader, slipped into the bathroom, visibly giggling and snickering on camera. I could dimly hear the loud rock music overhead, sending vibrations through the floor boards, with the occasional whoop and holler and shout standing out of the din. It was always warm, but the warmth varied. Sometimes it tasted way salty, sometimes less so. Now, for the first time, I was tasting load after load of piss in a row, and I could compare the flavor of each one. I had been vaguely aware of the different flavors over the last few weeks, as the boys had ordered me to identify them based in part on piss flavor, but I had never really completely been able to differentiate effectively. The other thing I noticed, of course, was how different piss seemed to taste, depending on the dude whose piss I was drinking. Usually they would face the camera, so they were staring directly at me through the laptop screen, then gleefully flick me off, before finally sauntering over to the urinal and theatrically unloading. The guys who belonged in Delta Psi, and knew where the urinal pipe led, behaved a little differently of course, at least when there was nobody else in the bathroom at the moment. Other guys still would sort of clutch their ball sack with both hands, arch their back, and gaze up at the ceiling, as if for all the world they wanted to look anywhere but down into the urinal.
Another guy would lean forward, gazing down in concentration, like it took a lot of thought to get it right.
#Frat boy gay sex stories free
One dude would sort of saunter in, lean up against the wall with one hand outstretched, and hold onto his dick with his free hand while he pissed. I couldn’t help but notice how each guy addressed the urinal just a little bit differently. I was sure there were plenty of girls, but of course, thanks to the signage the frat boys had left outside the bathroom, none of them were coming in.Īs always, it was funny, the things I suddenly observed.
the types you’d expect to find at your typical frat party on our campus. They were mostly frat guys, jocks, athletes, guys with popped collars, guys with backward baseball hats and sun glasses inexplicably still on, even though it was night and indoors. As the hours passed, and as the beer kept flowing, they started staggering into the bathroom more visibly drunk, their stride more and more lopsided, their every movement more and more inebriated, but still they kept coming. Through the grainy video feed, I could see guy after guy after guy after guy take his place in front of the urinal. The screen on my laptop was never inactive for long. I lay there, pinned down to the spanking bench, more and more piss flowing through the tube, through my piss gag, and into my mouth as the night wore on. After the ordeal with the itching gel, in fact, as I have explained, I finally began to quickly get most of the feet in the frat down my heart.