Frat Party Slut - Sex Stories

Frat Party Slut

I wish I could blame it on the alcohol. Sure I had a handful drinks at the party that night, but by the time my clothes came off I felt completely sober. I don’t know why I did it. It just sort of happened. I just went to the party to get rid off some stress. Between a week of tests, multiple research papers and a messy breakup the week before Valentine’s Day, I need to blow off some steam. Before we went out that night, my roommate told me. “You need to get laid.” I don’t think what happened is what she had in mind. As we walked out of our dorm room that night, never in a million years did I think something would happen like something happened that night… The night started like just about any other Friday night in just about any college town. We stopped at the neighboring dorm to meet two of our friends, then headed off campus. Now my college doesn’t have a mansion filled Greek lane. It looked like any other house built in the past twenty years, complete with the vinyl siding. The only difference, the lack of any sort of decorations on the outside. They had covered all of the windows, but light still crept out from around the edges. The unmistakable sound of a full house of college-aged party goers greeted us. For a Friday night when most of the country was out having a romantic dinner, the house was full. Judging by the way most of the men in the house looked at it, most of them single and looking to mingle. I’m not the kind of girl that goes out looking for attention, ...

... especially not at frat parties, but I’ll admit that I liked the looks I got that night. It took my mind off of my ex-boyfriend and my grueling course load. It had one other effect on me. One that left my body feeling warm. Now for the record, I don’t have anything against frat guys. I have lots of guy friends that are in frats. However, their parties put a new meaning to meat market and their target audience is the lowest common denominator. I knew I wouldn’t meet any guys there interested in my G.P.A. The only number any guy there cared about there was my bra size. However, compared to what some of my fellow coeds wore, I dressed like a nun. The blonde girl to the left of me at the keg wore a tank top with a neckline down to her belly. I saw less cleavage when I looked at myself naked in the mirror. It was quite obvious to everyone that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Did I mention it was February 14th, the middle of winter and I attended school in the middle of nowhere Illinois? The temperature outside hovered around a chilly 32 degrees that night. Even if she had worn a jacket to the party that night she had to be cold inside of that house. It may have been packed, but a cold, drafty wind blew in every time someone opened the door. I didn’t want to take my heavy, winter coat off. I spotted Evan, reason number three why I went to that party that night. He was a member of the frat hosting the party and I hoped he noticed me next to half the half naked chick. I wore a sweater that just ...