Homecumming Weeend

[Writers love feedback. Please comment on and rate this story. About 99 readers out of 100 do *NOT* bother to do either. Comments help authors improve their writing; star ratings help other readers find what they'll most enjoy reading. Making a story one of your favorites will help you find it again, but it does nothing to raise the numerical score of the story. If you think a story is worth four or five stars, please take an extra moment to actually grade it.]

In October, 2018 I attended Homecoming Weekend at State University. I graduated in the Class of 2013 and we had a blowout Fifth Reunion at Homecoming. My husband had graduated State the year before me, and although he wanted to come with me he couldn't get away. I jokingly promised to behave, as if I ever didn't! Many of our friends would also be attending; I knew I wouldn't be lonely without Daniel, and he knew I'd be with people we can trust.

Friday evening was the Dean's Reception, and Saturday afternoon was the football game against our downstate rivals. Saturday night was party after party, and my classmates and I had a wonderful time. We couldn't get over the fact that the pot we used to buy secretly and hide was now legal, and the current students were all getting high openly all around us. We joined them -- blaze up!

I love dancing and all my guy friends made a point to dance with me as well as with their wives. But soon I was in a crowd of current students, and found myself dancing with strangers. I was wearing Class regalia so all the students knew I was five years out of school. I was the target of many "old lady" and "MILF" jokes and enjoyed all the attention. I was NOT the best dancer, but we all had a lot of fun.

Just before midnight I got a text from one of my friends that they had gone to another frat house and I could catch up with them there. I knew where it was and started to say goodbye to the guys surrounding me. They urged me to stay longer with them and I agreed to one last drink before I left.

In minutes I knew I'd been drugged. I felt my senses diminish and the loud room seemed quiet. People's lips moved but I didn't hear sentences. I danced a little but soon felt my legs going floppy. Two of the guys smiled broadly and took me down to the basement. Couches and air mattresses all over the place, and there were other couples undressed and having sex.

I was now in The Fuck Room. Most fraternities have one. Only some of the girls are high or drunk, others are enjoying themselves without chemical help.

I had almost no control of my limbs but was mostly aware as the men took turns raping me on that couch. Other women were having sex all around me, some eagerly; others silently like me, likely also sedated against their will. I clearly remember at least four men having me, big men and small, guys who came quickly and guys who kept going until I orgasmed. Not once did I knowingly cry out, ask for help, or even say "no". It didn't all feel good, but none of it felt bad until they rolled me over and took my ass.

I nodded off to sleep when things slowed down. An hour later I realized that I was naked and in bed with another total stranger. I vaguely remembered I'd been drugged and raped. I had aches and pains and felt a headache. I started to sit up and the man pulled me back down and rolled over on top of me. This time I willingly splayed my thighs and took him inside. I think it was my fourth orgasm of the evening.

Other guys in the room were still awake and watched me claw his back and moan my release. He was done with me but soon another young man maneuvered me up onto all fours and his erection slithered into my very wet vagina, full of sperm from whatever had already happened. I started to nod off again, but he pulled my hair and the pain kept me awake. One more man followed and I was moved from position to position without complaining. Some of it hurt and some of it felt terrific and I orgasmed for the last time before they were done and let me stagger to the shower.

Now it is October, 2019, and I won't be going to Homecoming Weekend this year. My baby is 3 months old. She was conceived a year ago, and I'm not sure who the father is. I love the feeling that I've been bred by an unknown mystery man I'll never see again. I stare into my baby's eyes, try to picture the father, and I tingle. I meant nothing to him. He might not remember all of what we did, or even what I look like. For 10 minutes I was his cum dump and I'll be the mother of his child for the rest of my life. Someday my secret will be exposed by a blood test or one of those home DNA kits. Hopefully, decades from now.

My husband looks smaller to me now. Just a tiny bit less important to me. He's not "The Man" any more. Now he's just one of the men. He might not even be "Daddy". This all makes me feel dirty and powerful somehow I can't explain.