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Brooke's heart pounded as she scanned the crowded tailgate, her eyes darting from one potential candidate to another. The sun blazed down, but she barely noticed the heat; her focus was laser-sharp. Each man she passed was scrutinized for height, build, and a wedding band. This was it—the perfect hunting ground for today's mission.
She sauntered through the throngs of people, her Balenciaga sneakers silent on the grass, her Prada spandex shorts hugging her toned legs perfectly. The Chanel cutoff polo she wore accentuated her untethered 34D breasts, which bounced subtly with each step. Her long blonde hair framed her radiant face, and her blue eyes sparkled with determination. Every set of male eyes followed her, discreetly stealing glances at her underboob whenever they thought she wasn't looking.
As she reached the outskirts of the tailgate, she spotted him. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a confident stride, he was exactly what she was looking for. His wedding ring caught the sunlight just right, confirming her choice. She watched as he approached the line for a porta-potty, his expression a mix of anticipation and mild discomfort. Seizing the opportunity, she quickened her pace, positioning herself just behind him in the queue.
"Mind if I go in front of you? I have to go really bad," she said, her voice dripping with urgency.
He turned, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a charming smile. "Sure, anything for a pretty young lady."
"Oh, thank you so much, I owe you! Are you an alumni?" Brooke asked, her tone casual yet flirtatious.
"No, my daughter goes here," he replied, glancing around as if expecting her to appear.
"Oh, did she rush? Maybe I met her," Brooke continued, her eyes locking onto his.
"No, unfortunately, she didn't. I tried to get her to, but my wife was against it."
"Aw, that's too bad, we have an amazing group of girls. That's our house over there, maybe you can change her mind next semester," Brooke said, pointing towards the imposing mansion that housed her sorority.
He nodded, clearly impressed by the grandeur. "I noticed that mansion, it must be great living there."
"More than you can imagine..." Brooke's voice trailed off suggestively as it was her turn to use the porta-potty. She slipped inside a stall and waited, counting silently to herself. After what felt like an eternity but was only a few moments, she emerged, finding the Dad still in line.
"Thanks so much again. Would you like a special tour of our house?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken.
The Dad hesitated, unsure of where this conversation was headed. "Well, I don't know where my wife and daughter are right now. I think they've run off to some other tailgate parties."
Brooke placed her arm on his bicep, letting her left breast press fully against his forearm. "That's okay, it can be just you, and then you can report back."
His breath hitched slightly as her nipple grazed his elbow. He was clearly torn between reluctance and intrigue. "Well, you won't take no for an answer, will you?"
Brooke just smiled, her lips curling into a seductive curve.
"Why not, lead the way."
They walked together, weaving through the throngs of people until they reached a secluded path leading away from the main crowd. The Dad couldn't help but steal glances at Brooke's swaying hips, imagining what it would feel like to grip them in his hands. As they approached the mansion, the grandeur of the courtyard took his breath away. Marble pillars flanked the entrance, and the air conditioning inside offered a refreshing respite from the heat outside.
Inside, Brooke led him to an elevator, where two girls waited. One handed Brooke an iPad. "The Chapter alumni leadership wants every new visitor to sign an agreement when taking a tour," Brooke explained. "Mostly a formality to protect themselves, retaining the rights and consent to pictures or videos taken on the premises, so that they may be taken down from the Internet if so requested."
The Dad frowned. "I don't like to sign my name to anything I haven't fully read."
"That might take a while - or you can trust me?" Brooke reached out to touch his arm again, her breast pressing against his forearm once more.
He swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of her ample bosom. "There, signed."
"OK, do you trust you're in good hands, no matter what?" Brooke's voice was soft, almost conspiratorial.
"Sure."
Brooke relieved him of his phone and wallet, handing them to one of the girls. The other girl placed a sleep mask over his eyes, securing it with duct tape to ensure it wouldn't come off easily. The Dad felt a moment of panic as the mask tightened, but Brooke's soothing voice reassured him. "It's just a precaution. You'll see soon enough."
He felt the elevator move, though he couldn't tell if it was up or down due to its slow progress. Brooke held his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it comfortingly. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, mixing anxiety with excitement.
When the elevator doors opened, he was guided out, counting steps in his head. Twenty paces later, he was told to stand still. The room was silent, and he couldn't distinguish if he was alone with Brooke or surrounded by others. His heart raced, both nervous and aroused.
He reached out blindly, fingers brushing against a warm, soft surface. A gasp, followed by a gentle rebuff, made him retract his hand. "Sorry," he muttered, feeling foolish.
"It's alright," Brooke's voice came from the darkness. "Just stay still."
He was left alone in their all-purpose basement room. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the sparse furniture: a covered mattress on the floor, portable gym equipment stacked in one corner, and a few scattered yoga mats. The air was thick with anticipation, and the silence was broken only by the very faint hum of electronic equipment.
His pulse quickened as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He couldn't see it, but behind the walled two-way mirror, Brooke and ten new members of the Theta Iota Theta Sorority sat in rapt attention, their eyes glued to the seven 4K displays that offered every angle of the scene unfolding before them.
Suddenly, the door swung shut with a definitive click. He spun around, heart pounding, but of course could see nothing. The tension in the room was palpable, and he felt a strange mix of excitement and fear. He could feel her presence, like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.
The woman before him, nicknamed the Hurricane when she attended the university, wore nothing but a black catwoman mask, her body a flawless sculpture of toned muscles and sun-kissed skin. Her nipples were hard, standing out against the smooth expanse of her breasts, and her pussy, though unassuming, carried an aura of legendary prowess.
"Who's there?" he stammered.
She didn’t answer, instead circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. As she stood behind him, she lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest and toned arms. Then, with deft fingers, she undid his shorts and pulled them down, freeing his already half-hard cock. He stepped out of his underwear, now standing only in his socks and shoes, feeling exposed and more aroused than he had ever been.
The Hurricane's hands followed along his recently shaved pubic area, tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down his spine. She then stood in front of him, her intent clear as she pulled him closer by his cock until he was perfectly centered for all camera angles.
She kissed him then, a deep, hungry kiss that left no doubt about her intentions. Kneeling down on the mattress, she gripped his cock and began to stroke it in a rotating manner, her grip firm and confident. He groaned, the sensation overwhelming his senses.
"Oh fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "What are you going to do to me?"
The Hurricane’s tongue flicked out, licking up one side of his shaft, then down the other. She split his balls with her tongue, swishing back and forth up the underside, collecting the precum that eagerly leaked from the tip. The auto-framing cameras captured every detail in glorious 4K, the droplets of precum glistening under the shining lights.
She sank lower, engulfing one of his nuts in her mouth, sucking gently. His knees nearly buckled, the combination of her hands and mouth driving him wild. The sound of her lips working his balls, the air escaping inward, filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the hidden chamber.
"Am I allowed to speak?" he asked, his voice trembling.
With a mouthful of testicle, she responded by squeezing his shaft once, the implicit permission echoing in his mind.
"Oh fuck, it feels so amazing, whoever you are!" he exclaimed, his words lost in the haze of desire.
She rose, her mouth engulfing his throbbing cock, sucking and bobbing lower and lower until she hit the back of her throat. Adjusting effortlessly, she took him deeper, advancing all the way to his base. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"Oh...my...god!" he gasped, his world narrowing down to the sensation of her mouth on his cock.
Knowing he was close, she pulled back, guiding him to lie face up on the mattress, his head nearly next to the mirrored wall. She straddled his shoulders, centering his face squarely on her pussy. The Dad knew what to do, and started licking her velvety snatch, his tongue exploring every fold and crevice.
Her moans filled the room as she ground her hips against his face, her sticky juices coating his lips and chin. The girls in the hidden chamber watched in awe as her body tensed, her back arched, her hips rotated, until—
"OHHHHhhhhhhhOHHHHH!"
A gush of cum dispensed onto his face, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She slowed, resting completely on his face, recovering from the wash of ecstasy.
She proceeded to slide down his body, leaning forward to accept his swelling member. Placing her hands on his chest, she started riding his big dick, her tight pussy clenching around him with an iron grip. He gritted his teeth, the sensation extraordinary, surpassing anything he had ever experienced.
The Hurricane then stood him up, positioning him behind her. She placed her hands on the mirror and impaled herself back onto his slicked cock, engulfing him slowly. He was overcome with the need to thrust right away, and he did not hold back, slamming into her ass with abandon. The mirror rattled with each impact, her moans echoing through the room as she glanced into the mirror, sheer rapture etched on her face.
The sisters watched in silence, mesmerized by the relentless rhythm of his big cock ramming her back and forth. This was quality live-action porn, every thrust captured from multiple angles on the crystal-clear displays.
When she felt he was nearing his peak, she quickly turned and knelt. Stroking his cock rapidly, she sucked on the end as if siphoning out a full tank of gas from an oversized 4x4. The observers could see his pronounced thigh muscles flexing in ultra-high definition, his glutes clenching together so hard they looked like they could crush a diamond.
As she felt him delivering, she pulled off—
"Ohhhhhh FUCK!"
He exploded, his body jerking forward as a significant rope of cum shot clear over her head, splattering the mirror and causing the eyes behind it to flinch. A river of spunk spewed all over her obscured face and down between her drizzled tits. When the onslaught had finished, she secured his member in her mouth to suck it clean. He moaned again, experiencing a mini-orgasm as he shot a reserve of semen into her mouth. The viewing room reeked of eleven soaked panties.
“She’s still got it,” quipped a new sister, her voice barely audible over the heavy breathing and soft moans.
The Hurricane pressed her cum-covered nipples against him as she rose, kissing him on the cheek and whispering into his ear—
"I'd recognize that cock anywhere, Blake Johnson."
She turned to the mirror, smiled as she motioned the TITs up sorority sign (pushing up one's tits simultaneously), and strutted out of the room.
Hurricane Katrina could still be classified as an active perfect storm.
She sauntered through the throngs of people, her Balenciaga sneakers silent on the grass, her Prada spandex shorts hugging her toned legs perfectly. The Chanel cutoff polo she wore accentuated her untethered 34D breasts, which bounced subtly with each step. Her long blonde hair framed her radiant face, and her blue eyes sparkled with determination. Every set of male eyes followed her, discreetly stealing glances at her underboob whenever they thought she wasn't looking.
As she reached the outskirts of the tailgate, she spotted him. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a confident stride, he was exactly what she was looking for. His wedding ring caught the sunlight just right, confirming her choice. She watched as he approached the line for a porta-potty, his expression a mix of anticipation and mild discomfort. Seizing the opportunity, she quickened her pace, positioning herself just behind him in the queue.
"Mind if I go in front of you? I have to go really bad," she said, her voice dripping with urgency.
He turned, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a charming smile. "Sure, anything for a pretty young lady."
"Oh, thank you so much, I owe you! Are you an alumni?" Brooke asked, her tone casual yet flirtatious.
"No, my daughter goes here," he replied, glancing around as if expecting her to appear.
"Oh, did she rush? Maybe I met her," Brooke continued, her eyes locking onto his.
"No, unfortunately, she didn't. I tried to get her to, but my wife was against it."
"Aw, that's too bad, we have an amazing group of girls. That's our house over there, maybe you can change her mind next semester," Brooke said, pointing towards the imposing mansion that housed her sorority.
He nodded, clearly impressed by the grandeur. "I noticed that mansion, it must be great living there."
"More than you can imagine..." Brooke's voice trailed off suggestively as it was her turn to use the porta-potty. She slipped inside a stall and waited, counting silently to herself. After what felt like an eternity but was only a few moments, she emerged, finding the Dad still in line.
"Thanks so much again. Would you like a special tour of our house?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken.
The Dad hesitated, unsure of where this conversation was headed. "Well, I don't know where my wife and daughter are right now. I think they've run off to some other tailgate parties."
Brooke placed her arm on his bicep, letting her left breast press fully against his forearm. "That's okay, it can be just you, and then you can report back."
His breath hitched slightly as her nipple grazed his elbow. He was clearly torn between reluctance and intrigue. "Well, you won't take no for an answer, will you?"
Brooke just smiled, her lips curling into a seductive curve.
"Why not, lead the way."
They walked together, weaving through the throngs of people until they reached a secluded path leading away from the main crowd. The Dad couldn't help but steal glances at Brooke's swaying hips, imagining what it would feel like to grip them in his hands. As they approached the mansion, the grandeur of the courtyard took his breath away. Marble pillars flanked the entrance, and the air conditioning inside offered a refreshing respite from the heat outside.
Inside, Brooke led him to an elevator, where two girls waited. One handed Brooke an iPad. "The Chapter alumni leadership wants every new visitor to sign an agreement when taking a tour," Brooke explained. "Mostly a formality to protect themselves, retaining the rights and consent to pictures or videos taken on the premises, so that they may be taken down from the Internet if so requested."
The Dad frowned. "I don't like to sign my name to anything I haven't fully read."
"That might take a while - or you can trust me?" Brooke reached out to touch his arm again, her breast pressing against his forearm once more.
He swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of her ample bosom. "There, signed."
"OK, do you trust you're in good hands, no matter what?" Brooke's voice was soft, almost conspiratorial.
"Sure."
Brooke relieved him of his phone and wallet, handing them to one of the girls. The other girl placed a sleep mask over his eyes, securing it with duct tape to ensure it wouldn't come off easily. The Dad felt a moment of panic as the mask tightened, but Brooke's soothing voice reassured him. "It's just a precaution. You'll see soon enough."
He felt the elevator move, though he couldn't tell if it was up or down due to its slow progress. Brooke held his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it comfortingly. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, mixing anxiety with excitement.
When the elevator doors opened, he was guided out, counting steps in his head. Twenty paces later, he was told to stand still. The room was silent, and he couldn't distinguish if he was alone with Brooke or surrounded by others. His heart raced, both nervous and aroused.
He reached out blindly, fingers brushing against a warm, soft surface. A gasp, followed by a gentle rebuff, made him retract his hand. "Sorry," he muttered, feeling foolish.
"It's alright," Brooke's voice came from the darkness. "Just stay still."
He was left alone in their all-purpose basement room. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the sparse furniture: a covered mattress on the floor, portable gym equipment stacked in one corner, and a few scattered yoga mats. The air was thick with anticipation, and the silence was broken only by the very faint hum of electronic equipment.
His pulse quickened as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He couldn't see it, but behind the walled two-way mirror, Brooke and ten new members of the Theta Iota Theta Sorority sat in rapt attention, their eyes glued to the seven 4K displays that offered every angle of the scene unfolding before them.
Suddenly, the door swung shut with a definitive click. He spun around, heart pounding, but of course could see nothing. The tension in the room was palpable, and he felt a strange mix of excitement and fear. He could feel her presence, like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.
The woman before him, nicknamed the Hurricane when she attended the university, wore nothing but a black catwoman mask, her body a flawless sculpture of toned muscles and sun-kissed skin. Her nipples were hard, standing out against the smooth expanse of her breasts, and her pussy, though unassuming, carried an aura of legendary prowess.
"Who's there?" he stammered.
She didn’t answer, instead circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. As she stood behind him, she lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest and toned arms. Then, with deft fingers, she undid his shorts and pulled them down, freeing his already half-hard cock. He stepped out of his underwear, now standing only in his socks and shoes, feeling exposed and more aroused than he had ever been.
The Hurricane's hands followed along his recently shaved pubic area, tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down his spine. She then stood in front of him, her intent clear as she pulled him closer by his cock until he was perfectly centered for all camera angles.
She kissed him then, a deep, hungry kiss that left no doubt about her intentions. Kneeling down on the mattress, she gripped his cock and began to stroke it in a rotating manner, her grip firm and confident. He groaned, the sensation overwhelming his senses.
"Oh fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "What are you going to do to me?"
The Hurricane’s tongue flicked out, licking up one side of his shaft, then down the other. She split his balls with her tongue, swishing back and forth up the underside, collecting the precum that eagerly leaked from the tip. The auto-framing cameras captured every detail in glorious 4K, the droplets of precum glistening under the shining lights.
She sank lower, engulfing one of his nuts in her mouth, sucking gently. His knees nearly buckled, the combination of her hands and mouth driving him wild. The sound of her lips working his balls, the air escaping inward, filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the hidden chamber.
"Am I allowed to speak?" he asked, his voice trembling.
With a mouthful of testicle, she responded by squeezing his shaft once, the implicit permission echoing in his mind.
"Oh fuck, it feels so amazing, whoever you are!" he exclaimed, his words lost in the haze of desire.
She rose, her mouth engulfing his throbbing cock, sucking and bobbing lower and lower until she hit the back of her throat. Adjusting effortlessly, she took him deeper, advancing all the way to his base. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"Oh...my...god!" he gasped, his world narrowing down to the sensation of her mouth on his cock.
Knowing he was close, she pulled back, guiding him to lie face up on the mattress, his head nearly next to the mirrored wall. She straddled his shoulders, centering his face squarely on her pussy. The Dad knew what to do, and started licking her velvety snatch, his tongue exploring every fold and crevice.
Her moans filled the room as she ground her hips against his face, her sticky juices coating his lips and chin. The girls in the hidden chamber watched in awe as her body tensed, her back arched, her hips rotated, until—
"OHHHHhhhhhhhOHHHHH!"
A gush of cum dispensed onto his face, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She slowed, resting completely on his face, recovering from the wash of ecstasy.
She proceeded to slide down his body, leaning forward to accept his swelling member. Placing her hands on his chest, she started riding his big dick, her tight pussy clenching around him with an iron grip. He gritted his teeth, the sensation extraordinary, surpassing anything he had ever experienced.
The Hurricane then stood him up, positioning him behind her. She placed her hands on the mirror and impaled herself back onto his slicked cock, engulfing him slowly. He was overcome with the need to thrust right away, and he did not hold back, slamming into her ass with abandon. The mirror rattled with each impact, her moans echoing through the room as she glanced into the mirror, sheer rapture etched on her face.
The sisters watched in silence, mesmerized by the relentless rhythm of his big cock ramming her back and forth. This was quality live-action porn, every thrust captured from multiple angles on the crystal-clear displays.
When she felt he was nearing his peak, she quickly turned and knelt. Stroking his cock rapidly, she sucked on the end as if siphoning out a full tank of gas from an oversized 4x4. The observers could see his pronounced thigh muscles flexing in ultra-high definition, his glutes clenching together so hard they looked like they could crush a diamond.
As she felt him delivering, she pulled off—
"Ohhhhhh FUCK!"
He exploded, his body jerking forward as a significant rope of cum shot clear over her head, splattering the mirror and causing the eyes behind it to flinch. A river of spunk spewed all over her obscured face and down between her drizzled tits. When the onslaught had finished, she secured his member in her mouth to suck it clean. He moaned again, experiencing a mini-orgasm as he shot a reserve of semen into her mouth. The viewing room reeked of eleven soaked panties.
“She’s still got it,” quipped a new sister, her voice barely audible over the heavy breathing and soft moans.
The Hurricane pressed her cum-covered nipples against him as she rose, kissing him on the cheek and whispering into his ear—
"I'd recognize that cock anywhere, Blake Johnson."
She turned to the mirror, smiled as she motioned the TITs up sorority sign (pushing up one's tits simultaneously), and strutted out of the room.
Hurricane Katrina could still be classified as an active perfect storm.
