GLORY PARTY AT FRAT HOUSE

If you've been reading this blog, you'll know about Patricia. She was the most sexually complex girl I ever knew; there is a fine line between carefree and careless.

Patricia grew up in Oregon and went to the state school where she joined a sorority. I had been one of those students who never joined the Greek system. Paying my way through school, I was going from class to part-time job, and then back to the dorm to study for tests. Work hard, get good grades. That was college for me. For Patricia, it was an endless series of parties. If I was too far to one side on the academic, she was to the other extreme of party til you puke.

Obviously, not every frat boy or girl is at college just to party. I'm not making a cliche generalization about tens of thousands of students in the US. But it does go without saying that frat houses at particular state schools have a deep history of downright party debauchery. A lot of people know about the keggers with giant bubble machines, the jello or mud wrestling, naked pool parties.

For someone who'd never been inside the system, it was sort of like the Free Masons--you assumed things were normal, but never really knew the depths of the secret rites, rituals, and initiations.

Apparently, one frat house had bored holes in one of the walls between a bedroom and one of the public rooms, said Patricia. When parties really got going, frat brothers would go to the room and put their cocks through the holes. Drunk sorority chicks would service them on the other side. It became a badge of courage, bragging rights. For some sororities, it became a form of initiation.

I knew all about "Girls Gone Wild," and some of the dares the college girls would do, but to actually have glory holes in a frat house? I wasn't going to fall for another Patricia lie. But she pulled out her old laptop and after sorting through folders, she showed me a snapshot. It was exactly as she described: the sorority chicks with party bracelets on their wrists, the half-empty keg cups scattered. That's Amiee and Lindsey, two sorority sisters, Patricia pointed out. There were both in their bras, and were inspecting a hard cock protruding through a hole in the wall. See? said Patricia. She loved to be right.

I had heard Patricia talk about Amiee. She was two years older than Patricia and was her appointed older sister of the sorority. I knew she'd played some role in the "initiation" of Patricia into the sorority. I asked Patricia if she'd been initiated on the wall. No, of course not, she said, in the high-pitched voice she used when she was flirting or lying.

It was hard for me to imagine her story was actually true. But she had the photo to prove it. What I didn't know and questioned, was to what extent Patricia had participated in this frat house tradition. I knew that if she had one photo, she probably had another. A few days later, when she was gone, I snooped around until I found her old laptop. It had an old version of Windows on it, the kind we used in college with the single password at the start up. I thought for a while, and then simply typed in the name of her childhood cat. Seriously, it worked.

There's always a danger in snooping. You have to be ready for what you may uncover. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. I found what I had feared. There was an image of Patricia on her knees in front of the wall. The camera flash seems to have caught her unaware. She wears her white blouse and black skirt--an outfit she still wears to go out to dinner and dates with me. She wasn't lying about the wall, but she was lying about her participation. As long as I've known her, she's been an eager initiator of oral sex. She loves to have my cock in her mouth, and apparently, stranger's cocks, too. I really should have known, but still, it was a shock. I closed the laptop and promised I'd never snoop again. But of course it was too late. Never again would I be able to feel her mouth on my cock without thinking of the frat house wall.