Toga! Toga! T-oh-ugh! - Sex Stories

Toga! Toga! T-oh-ugh!

... do I tell this guy the reason I wanted it back was it was my only good one? I smiled and said, “This one is mine.” “Here,” he said handing it to me, “I couldn’t find your panties, but I should return these. Oh, I brought us some bagels and cream cheese. Assuming you’re hungry.” “I should try to eat.” “I didn’t know what you’d like so I grabbed a plain, onion, poppy seed, and a blueberry.” “Plain please. It’s the only one I like.” Owen handed me the plain bagel, then said, “Shit! I forgot a knife. Wait here and I’ll get us a knife and return these bras.” Owen grabbed the bag of bagels and the bras and left. I stared at the bagel and smiled. I decide to prop the pillows behind me, and relax. My head was still pounding and I knew I’d need to ask Owen for some ibuprofen and soon. Part of me was still ashamed about what I had done, and even though Owen seemed like a nice guy, I still felt like shit. I started to cry again. Owen returned with my panties in his hand, a knife, a jug of orange juice, two cups, and the bag of bagels. “Why are you crying again?” he asked. “I feel like shit,” I said, drying my eyes on the back of my hand. “You seem like such a nice guy, and I’m such a whore.” “You’re not a whore,” he said sweetly. “You got drunk, and we fucked. “I am a whore!” I cried. “I act all prim and proper, but the truth is, I’m just a whore!” “If you were a whore, you’d be downstairs in the dogpile.” “Dogpile?” “I’ve been a member of the Alpha Sigma Zeta fraternity for three ...

... years and had heard stories of the legendary orgies with the sexy ladies of Kappa Tau, but thought they were just stories, until now.” “They had an orgy downstairs?” I asked, not hiding the shock in my voice. “Looks like it,” he said, then sighed. “But I missed out because I was up here with you.” “But I was drunk.” “We were both drunk. I’ll own my drunkenness.” We shared the bagels, drank the juice, and continued to talk. “So, Owen, what is your major? Partying like a rock star?” “No,” he said. “Psychology.” “Oh,” I said, taking a bite of my bagel. “I’ve taken a few classes.” “Most people have. It’s a graduation requirement.” I looked at Owen. “You do look a bit familiar. Have we met before tonight?” “Maybe. What psych classes have you taken?” “Um, 100, 301, and one other… what was it?” “Four-twelve maybe?” “Yeah! The one about human sexuality,” I said, then moaned. “Oh, my head! You got any ibuprofen?” “Yeah, hang on.” Owen reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle. “I hurt my knee last year and I got the 800 mg kind for the pain. Since I don’t take them often, I save them for my hangovers.” “Thanks,” I said, smiling as best as I could. “You’re a life saver.” I took the pill and chased it with a swallow of juice, then closed my eyes. I knew it would take some time for the pain to go away, but just knowing the clock was ticking on my headache helped. “You okay?” Owen asked. “My head hurts and the room’s spinning.” “Why don’t you lay down and rest?” Owen pulled the bedding ...