A Boy On The Side by pineapplewatchparty

(This story is the property of its author, H. K. Smythe. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited. Characters under 18 do not engage in sexual activity.)

A Boy on the Side

Bonnie Madison

Although we had a lovely home in St. Tammany Parish, I only spent summers and holidays there when I was growing up. My parents sent me to a private school in the same town as State U.

Prentice was an all girls' school. It was considered as much a finishing school as a secondary school. That didn't prevent the fraternity guys from State U. learning the whys and wherefores of seducing us. I lost my virginity when I was a junior on a blanket in a copse of trees and brush on the Prentice campus. I thoroughly enjoyed my deflowering and resolved never to go more than forty-eight hours without receiving a thorough dicking.

As a high school senior I was a fixture at many State U. fraternity parties. Although I wasn't able to stick to my forty-eight hour resolution while at Prentice, I almost never missed a weekend without a renewal of my anti-chastity vow.

At the fraternity parties, I met many like-minded sorority girls, and consequently I was a shoo-in to pledge Upsilon Upsilon, the most prestigious of State U. sororities. We weren't the best according to some rankings, but we were certainly the most popular sorority along fraternity row.

As I had hoped, college life was a blast. Every weekend there were parties. Often at fraternity houses. I became almost as well acquainted with the bedrooms as I was with the public rooms. I was called a ten o'clock slut, because at ten o'clock I would quit studying and head for a frat house bedroom. At two fraternities I had a front door key.

My weekends would usually start with happy hour at the Upsilon Upsilon house. Often there would be a reception at a frat house followed by the main event which was usually a beer bust sponsored by one of the fraternities. I always was sure of a hookup Friday night. Saturday night was either a continuation of my Friday night hookup if the guy was a real stud, or a second chance of scoring a real lady's man. My summers back at St. Tammany Parish were usually a bit boring but I would have a few rendezvouses with some of my sisters in New Orleans or somewhere on the coast.

One Wednesday I got a walk in my World History class. I had about forty-five minutes to kill before English so I decided to do what a less assured sorority girl would never do - be seen alone in the Student Union. The Student Union was quite crowded, and so when an attractive young man asked if he could join me, I agreed.

He looked okay, but when he talked he was Hicksville personified. He launched into a discussion of one of his ag classes. It was something about genetics of breeding cattle. Yuck! It was barf me with a spoon time! It was his voice, a resonant baritone that caused me to pause and review the bidding. He had sandy hair with blue eyes, standing a little over six feet tall. He had the broad shoulders of a working man, as opposed to some of the athletes I was more than familiar with. He mentioned that he was a dual major, also studying Civil Engineering. At least he wasn't a complete nonce. My father occasionally dealt with Civil Engineers in his job as Executive Vice-President of a major corporation headquartered in The City, that's New Orleans to you non-Orleanians.

The only thing that saved his ass was a story one of my sorority sisters told me. She said she hooked up with a hick from her summertime job. They parked in the back seat of his crew cab and he fucked her nine-by-nine. Nine times with a nine-inch rod. She admitted she was sore for a couple of days after that one. She guessed that she must have come forty or fifty times in their four-hour backseat session. I thought maybe this guy can do the same thing; he's certainly enough of a hick to qualify. All I could tell about his equipment was that he seemed to have big hands, a good indicator for treasure down below.

He asked me to go to a movie with him that night. I already had a hookup planned with a fraternity brother and his roommate. I figured the two of them together could give me a moderately good reaming. I agreed to go out with him on the next night.

Of all things, he took me to a union movie. At least it was only about two hours. He asked if I'd like to go to his apartment for a nightcap. I agreed, at least he wasn't in a dormitory. The apartment was quite nice. It was University housing but it had four bedrooms and two baths as well as common areas. He introduced me to his three roommates, nerds all. We chatted for a few minutes while sipping beer, and then we went to his room to see his 'etchings.' His 'etching' wasn't nine inches but it was close enough at over eight inches and a 9/10 on my thickness scale.

He was almost stuttering with excitement at my 38D's and he also complimented me on having a 'truly beautiful ass.' Flattery was certainly enough to get him into my panties. Two hours later he was taking one satiated sorority girl back to the Upsilon Upsilon house. He didn't screw me nine times -- only four. I only came fifteen or twenty times. That wasn't enough to get him a weekend date, but I agreed to meet him at his apartment at ten Monday night.

Monday night he proved that Thursday night had not been a fluke. That earned him a Tuesday night rendezvous. Wednesday night he picked me up at the chapter house and we went out for pizza, beer, and conversation before playtime at his apartment. Thursday night was it for the week, he still hadn't earned weekend privileges, but I had to admit he was approaching weekend quality in my book.

We became regulars from Monday to Thursday nights with pizza on Wednesday nights. My sisters started asking me if he was my side boy, since my weekend activities were still centered on fraternity house row, particularly my extensive knowledge of the residents and their bedrooms. I felt like he was more than a side boy, although that did approximate our apparent relationship.

I could tell he was falling for me, and so I wasn't surprised when he invited me to go home with him on Thanksgiving break. I agreed to spend Thanksgiving with him on The Farm, which apparently was his family business, but only if Friday we stayed in St. Tammany Parish so that we could spend Friday and Saturday nights in the French Quarter.

Jeremiah Saunders

When I met Bonnie in the Student Union, I thought she was the sexiest woman I had ever seen. I quickly learned that she was an Upsilon Upsilon. This was a change since I was a charter member of Gamma Delta Iota. I even lived in University Student Housing. I managed to get a date with her. Apparently our first date was to her satisfaction as she agreed to go out with me a second time, soon we were dating regularly during the week, but she reserved the weekends for Greek activities.

Since I was seeing her three or four times a week I had the temerity to ask her to go home with me for Thanksgiving. She agreed to spending Thanksgiving on the farm, but only if I would spend the rest of the weekend at her family's home in suburban New Orleans. Another restriction was that we take her convertible rather than my crew cab.

She got mixed reviews at The Farm. My mother and father thought she was a fine young lady, very refined, although my mother was less than enthused at her sleeping in my room. My brother thought she put on airs, and my sister thought she was a gold-plated bitch. Our ancestral home dated from antebellum times and so she was somewhat impressed with that. She was less impressed with her tour of our two farms

She commented, "It's just crops! She did like the tour being on horseback, but otherwise she was unimpressed with over eight thousand acres of Delta cropland. I knew better than to suggest that she could be living here in a few years.

She also seemed less than impressed when I explained the succession plan for The Farm, Inc. Since my brother is a film producer in Los Angeles and my sister is a model/fashion consultant in New York City, running the farms after our parents' retirement would fall to me. Derwin and Michaela would still share in the profits and ownership of The Farm, Inc., which was the legal owner of both farms.

Friday morning we started the drive to her parent's home in Mandeville. We had both lunch and dinner with her parents and elder sister, who was introduced to me as Barbie. Her father seemed okay, but both her mother and sister seemed a little reserved where I was concerned.

After dinner that night we went to the French Quarter. Barbie was going out with some of her friends. I thought the live music, drinking, and dancing were fantastic. Bonnie seemed jaded - I guess she had been here many times before. A young black man accosted her on the street as we were starting for the car after carousing for several hours. He engaged her in an extended conversation. They were speaking into each other's ears, so with the street noise of the French Quarter, I only heard occasional words. We were leaving anyway. Once we were in her car, she told me the guy had told her about a new club that was supposed to be really good, the idea being that we could go there tomorrow night.

Her parents had shown no concern about us sharing a bed, so we went to bed when we got back. She was very passionate but that wasn't unusual. Some nights something seemed to set off and she would be unusually full of lust even for her.

Saturday we had breakfast and lunch with her parents. Her father seemed much more interested in The Farm than the Madison women were. We had an extended conversation about how we used futures to deal with fluctuations in commodity prices.

Around six we drove across the Lake Pontchartrain bridge to the French Quarter. There were so many clubs in the French Quarter that it seemed like we could be here weeks and never repeat. We had dinner at Antoine's and then began clubbing. By twelve, I was getting a little tipsy as I was drinking mixed drinks while Bonnie was sipping wine coolers.

She suggested, "Before we head home, I'd like to check out the new club that guy told me about. In the club, they were playing a type of New Orleans jazz. Not only were the band members black, but a majority of the club workers and audience were black. It felt a little funny to notice that the majority of the black audience was male."

The drinks were good, but I was getting very drowsy and apparently passed out. Some time later I woke up in an upstairs room lit only by the ambient light from the street. The music was reverberating throughout the room; apparently I was on the second floor over the club. I tried the door and found that it was locked. Bonnie was nowhere to be seen. I looked at my watch - it was almost three. I had been out over two hours.

I texted Bonnie: 'Where am I? What's going on?'

In a few minutes, she texted back: 'Be there in a jif!'

A few minutes later I heard the door being unlocked. Bonnie and a black guy, apparently on the club staff were there.

Bonnie smiled and said, "Glad you could join us, Sleeping Beauty"

The guy asked, "Everything okay?"

Bonnie replied, "Everything's fine. Thank you!"

Then, to me, "Are you ready to go, sugar?"

I replied, "Sure, Bonnie."

She led me to her car, and we headed back to Mandeville. I asked her, "What happened?"

She smiled and said, "You mean after you passed out? Some of the staff carried you up to the room for safety. While you were sleeping, I drank and danced some more, waiting for you to recover. That's pretty much the whole story."

I sighed, and said, "Sorry, I'm a little embarrassed."

She replied, "Don't be. You were drinking stiffer drinks than I was. Everything's all right, okay?"

I said, "Sure."

After that, we were pretty quiet on the way across the lake. Back at her house, I was rested, and she was again horny, so we did the deed twice and then went to sleep. We both slept late Sunday morning. We shared lunch with Bonnie's family and then started the long drive back to State U.

Bonnie

I really enjoyed Thanksgiving. A guy told me about a special club. Just as planned, they gave Jerry a special drink and three black studs gave me a two hour session while Jerry slept off the effects of the special drink.

Jerry

At Spring Break we went skiing with some of her sorority sisters and their 'plus ones.' Because there were seven sisters involved, we ended up staying in two condos at Heavenly Valley. As I was the only novice, I spent a lot time in lessons, while the other fifteen skied in two or three groups. We didn't run into each other a lot because I was skiing on beginner slopes while the others were skiing intermediate or advanced slopes. Overall I was a little disappointed in the trip although we did hang out in the evenings and made love every night.

Bonnie

I felt a little bad about Jerry not having a clue as to what I was doing on the ski trip. My sisters and I had worked it out before we left. Everyday we would start off skiing hard and then go back to the condos to fuck until lunch time. We would meet up with Jerry after his lesson and have lunch. Then while he was having an afternoon lesson, we would ski hard for an hour or two and then go back to the condos for more fucking.

I was such a horny bitch. After dinner and some hot tub time, I would fuck clueless until he couldn't get it up any more. He never had a clue that I was having the main course while he was taking ski lessons.

Jerry

The next three years seemed to pass in no time. Bonnie never completely quit being a Greek girl about town, although she did gradually let me have a couple of weekend dates a month. At Christmas of our senior year I asked her to marry me and she accepted my ring even though it only cost about twenty thousand dollars.

Before we got married she explained about her seasonal reunions with some of her sisters. Winter was in Atlanta; Spring was in New Orleans; Summer was in Miami; and Fall was in Jamaica. No husbands, boyfriends, or significant others were allowed. I felt like that was a small price to pay for the most attractive woman I had ever seen becoming my wife.

While she was spending New Year's in Atlanta, I had long discussions with my Dad about the biggest problem at the Big Farm. We referred to it as the Chase place. Efram Chase had bought the place in the early Eighteenth Century. It was then handed down from generation to generation of the Chase family.

In the latter part of the Nineteenth Century, the Big Farm began to take shape. Starting sometime in the 1870's, the current operator of the Big Farm would accumulate cash adequate to purchase the Chase place. No matter what the relationship to market, every offer was turned down. Each time my ancestor would buy a new piece of land. When adding to the Big Farm was no longer feasible, the Little Farm began taking shape. As generations passed, the Little Farm became larger and larger, another reminder of the usurpers in the middle of the Big Farm. More than at any time in the last hundred years, my father had hope. The current heir to the Chase place was Melody Chase. She married a real asshole in a fellow named Cedric Markover. My dad believed that Mr. Markover would greatly prefer a generous cash offer to a barely feasible plot of Delta land.

After only seven months of marriage and numerous trips to her Ob/Gyn, Bonnie proudly announced that she was pregnant. Although happy with our first child she seemed a bit disappointed that she would miss her Summer reunion with her sorority sisters. Elliot was a bouncing baby boy and both sets of grandparents were very pleased with both Bonnie and me.

Almost exactly one year after her announcement of Elliot's imminent addition to our family, Bonnie announced that she was pregnant again. Alice was responsible for Bonnie missing the Miami reunion two years running. Bonnie reacted even stronger this time, although I couldn't tell if she was more pissed at me or Alice. Only six weeks after Alice's birth, her mother was off to the reunion in Jamaica.

I was more than a little curious about what the attraction was for these quarterly 'reunions.' I arranged for a private eye to follow her comings and goings on her Jamaica trip. After nine days in Jamaica, both my investigator and my wife returned stateside. I visited the private eye in his Greenville office. He had beautiful pictures and video footage of a constant stream of black guys visiting the condo rented by the sorority sisters. The footage included both daytime and nighttime extramarital activity on the balcony and in the hot tub.

This was the love of my life and the mother of my children. I wanted to salvage our marriage if there was any possibility. I had a disappointing confrontation with Bonnie.

I showed her some pictures of her, nude, bent over the balcony rail with a well-endowed black male banging away on her ass, and asked her, "What do you have to say about these?"

She replied, "That's me fucking one of the resort employees. He had a nine-inch dong that all of my sisters thoroughly enjoyed! Any other questions?"

I said, "Do you want to stay married to me?"

She answered, "Yes. Of course. I'm happy with my life with you."

I explained, "I'm not happy with this."

She retorted, "I didn't know you were into seeing me fuck other guys. I think I'll enjoy your watching me in the future if that's what you want."

I told her, "I want you to stop doing stuff like this."

She responded, "Fat chance! Jerry, I love you. I want to stay married to you. But, and this is non-negotiable, I'm not giving up my quarterly reunions with my girls."

I inquired, "Do your friends' husbands know what goes on at these so-called reunions?"

She smiled, "Some do, some don't. I believe more do than don't. For sure, you're the only one upset about it."

I asked, "What about our children? Won't it bother you if they find out?"

She replied, "Jerry, it's called 'growing up.' It's just a phase of life!"

I sadly said, "Bonnie, I don't think we see things the same way."

She answered, "I'm sure we don't, but that doesn't make one of us more right than the other."

I continued, "I just don't like the idea of you fucking every Tom, Dick, and Harry."

She responded, "It's really not like that, Jerry. I just need to get a little extra every now and then."

I asked, "Why is it that you feel that way and I don't?"

She said, "We're different people, but that doesn't mean we can't get along."

I had to know, "This makes me unhappy, but you seem to be more than willing to charge ahead regardless of my feelings!"

She replied, "Since it's my body, shouldn't I have the last word?"

I was becoming angry, "Word, Smerd! Don't my feelings count for something?"

She explained, "Of course, but sweetheart, my feelings count for more. I need those quarterly flings!"

I asked, "How much do you need the quarterly so-called flings?"

She said, "I couldn't stand living here in Podunkville without them!"

I was trying to understand, "So, the fleshpots of the world are more important to you than our life here with our children and each other."

Bonnie explained it to me, "I have a taste for the high life. It's like my life's blood. I've been thinking I might need to go to New Orleans monthly instead of five or six times a year."

I was seeking more information, "So, when you go home to St. Tammany, the main purpose isn't to see your family; it's to go to the special clubs in the French Quarter."

She backtracked slightly, "I don't know if I'd put it that way; but if I only have to cross a bridge to have a good time, I'm crossing the bridge."

A Boy On The Side

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