The campus newspaper headline said it all: “RIOT IN THE DORM!”

This had started a couple of days ago. Several of us discovered that our class schedules gave us an hour off at mid-day, all near Freud Hall. (The psych majors called it Cigar Castle; I never did figure that one out).

Daryl and Brett lived there, so we’d all eat lunch with them in the dorm’s kitchen. At the first lunch everyone was kidding Daryl about his campus profile page. Every day brought at least a dozen new offers of sexual congress from women, and at least one or two from men. There were crowds in his hallway every afternoon and evening. In fact, there were women in each of the shower rooms right now hoping to get a glimpse of Daryl. They all wore buttons reading “Daryl’s Dick Cult: Nine Inches Dot Cum.”

Daryl said it was getting beyond tiresome. Brett asked why he didn’t get any of that attention.

“It’s almost all pussy,” said Daryl. “You’re gay, that’s the reason.”

Charlene’s mischievous mind was at work. “Well, the girls probably have straight boyfriends they could bring along.”

Brett and Daryl looked at one another and started talking a mile a minute. I couldn’t follow it and had to walk all the way across campus for my next class, so I left.

The next day Jay told me to look at Daryl’s campus profile page. He had posted an announcement:

An open letter to the ladies of Anthony College.

I will go ahead and have whatever sex with you that you want. We will begin tonight accepting applications for a lottery.

The eventual winner will come to my dorm room and spend twelve hours having whatever kinds of sex we want. I may also invite some friends, with whom the winning woman will have whatever kinds of sex they want. Twelve hours.

The winner’s straight boyfriend will also come to my dorm room and spend twelve hours having whatever kinds of sex my gay roommate wants. He may also invite some gay friends, with whom the winning woman’s straight boyfriend will have whatever kinds of sex they want. Twelve hours.

Bring your applications to Freud Hall, Room 122, before midnight next Sunday. Auditions start the next day. We will pick ten finalists to enter the lottery based on audition performance with me and with my gay roommate. Our senior resident will then draw one winner’s name from among those still in the contest.

I thought it was hilarious. Daryl and Brett were going to put a stop to this crap. So much for my judgment.

That evening there was a riot in the dorm. Seventy-two people were crammed into the hallway off Daryl and Brett’s room. They were pushing, yelling, shoving, and fighting. Zeke showed up to stop it and was pummeled. He called campus police who arrested the thirty-six couples on multiple charges.

At the campus jail, the police discovered they had thirty-nine men and thirty-three women. Three of the “women” had been guys in drag hoping to fool Daryl. Zeke had spent the night under observation at the hospital.

The next day, at lunch, the campus police showed up at our usual table. “Daryl Bowdain?” they asked. He raised his hand.

“Brett Goldberg?” He put down his ham sandwich (non-practicing apparently) and raised his hand.

The older cop told them to come with them. Daryl asked if they were under arrest. “Not yet.”

Brett asked if he could bring someone with him. In response to the cops’ question, he said he didn’t want a lawyer. “I want Mark to come with me.”

No one was more shocked than I. Whatever could I do?

The campus police shepherded all three of us out of the dorm and straight to the Dean’s office. We were asked – actually ordered – to take seats. The Dean and Dr. Wagoner were there, looking at us sternly.

The Dean spoke. “Mr. Bowdain and Mr. Goldberg, you are in serious shit. Marjorie?”

Dr. Wagoner took over. “Mr. Bowdain, if I went downtown and wore a sign saying pay me $20 and I’ll have sex with you, what would that be?”

Daryl knew that was prostitution.

“If I went downtown and wore a sign saying I will have sex with you if you paint my house, then I’m receiving something I evidently value in return for sex. Is that still prostitution?”

Daryl nodded his head and I had figured out where this was going.

“And, if I wore a sign saying I’ll have sex with you if you bring along your straight girlfriend to have sex with my lesbian roommate, what would that be?”

“Fuck me,” was all Daryl could say.

“Exactly,” said Dr. Wagoner. “Fuck me only if you give me something I value. You and your roommate are subject to charges of promoting prostitution.”

That’s when the Dean noticed me. “What the fuck is he doing here?’

Brett replied, “It’s Mark. I asked him to accompany me.”

The Dean was blunt. “So, Bozo the Clown wasn’t available?” I should have been insulted, but had to agree with the Dean.

Brett spoke quietly. “Whenever Mark’s involved in something, it usually turns out all right. I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to mess with success. I want him here because I think that then things will turn out all right.”

The Dean ignored me for the rest of the meeting.

“You, Mr. Bowdain, and you, Mr. Goldberg, will sign a statement as will I. Dr. Wagoner is here not as a member of the faculty but as a lawyer to protect the interests of the college.

If you believe you need a lawyer get your own.” Dr. Wagoner was a lawyer, too. I was gaining new respect for our Head Shrink. I also understood why Carl had asked her to prepare the involuntary commitment order.

“Dr. Wagoner has prepared the statement, which will be carried in the Anthony City Ledger’s legal notices tomorrow. She has also prepared a statement to post on your campus profile pages – both of you. The college has disabled both pages until I tell them to reinstate them.”

Daryl asked where to sign. Brett told him they should read the statement first and think about it overnight.

I never had learned to shut up. “Buddy, you fucked up big time,” I said. “You asked me here, and seem to think I can help. Well, Dr. Wagoner is here as a lawyer, but she’s still a shrink. She’s not going to give it to you in the ass. Neither is the Dean. You can wait until tomorrow, and maybe the city cops show up and you go to jail. Sign the fucking statement and thank the Dean you’re not facing prostitution charges. If it wouldn’t look like prostitution, I’d say blow jobs all around were in order.”

The Dean looked at me strangely. “What’s your last name, Mark?” I told him, and he wrote something on a notepad. Maybe he wasn’t thinking of Bozo.

They signed, we left.

Sylvia called me. There was a show in her dorm that night. Only dorm residents and one guest per girl, if approved by the senior resident, were invited. I was invited. Sarah lived in the same dorm and invited Jay.

Sixty of us gathered in the second floor lounge, probably more than fire safety rules allowed. The Twins were already there when we arrived. They didn’t live in that dorm, so I wondered what was up.

The Senior Resident, Keisha, showed up with Daryl and Brett in tow. The Twins lay on the floor head-to-toe. Daryl approached one and pulled her to her feet; Brett did the same to the other.

They removed The Twins’ blouses. They were braless, and had identical (and quite nice!) titties. The guys started kissing them, then let their mouths travel down to their breasts for some licking and sucking before returning for another kiss.

The guys then knelt on the floor in front of The Twins. They removed their jeans; no underwear! The Twins were naked.

They lay down on the floor again, this time head to head. Brett buried his face in one Twin’s bush, Daryl in the other. They licked, probed, and sucked. Pretty soon one of The Twins cried out in a climax. I had no idea Brett knew how to eat pussy. A minute later Daryl had given the other Twin an orgasm. Now the girls stood up.

They removed the guys’ shirts and repeated the kissing, licking, sucking and returning for a kiss. Then they knelt in front of the guys. They unbuckled belts and undid jeans. They slowly lowered the guys’ jeans to the floor. No underwear. They had a theme going.

In unison the twins brought the guys’ rods into their mouths. They sucked, they licked and sucked their balls, they rimmed the guys’ assholes, then back to some more dick-licking. They edged the guys for about ten minutes. I could tell both of them were ready to explode.

The girls then lay on the floor again, head to head. Daryl lowered himself slowly onto one Twin. She grasped his prick and brought it to her love channel, and slowly helped him get that monster part way into her pussy. Brett lowered himself onto the other Twin. Brett had nothing to be ashamed of, but, frankly, all I could think of was a garter snake compared to an anaconda. His dick slipped effortlessly into her cunt and he began thrusting.

The Twins pushed up against the guys, who pushed back with increasing power and speed. The Twins were writhing on the floor and moaning. The guys were moaning also; this was hot in the extreme.

Finally, Brett tensed and released his load into one Twin. Then Daryl, still only 80% of the way inside the other Twin, did the same. The couples kissed, then stood and took a bow to thunderous applause.

I told Sylvia I didn’t understand why a Twin would have sex with a gay guy. She said The Twins had told her I was a good lay, but Brett looked like a dream and fucked like one also. He had been voted HFOC last year (Hottest Faggot on Campus) and I understood why.

So, I tried it from a different angle. Forgetting what Charlie had said, I had no idea a gay guy would fuck a woman. Sylvia replied that we were only about two or three weeks into the year, and asked who I had had sex with so far.

“Well, there’s you,” I said. “And Valerie and Charlene. And Janice. Oh, and one of the twins. I can tell them apart now because one knows a lot more about marketing than the other. Of course, when your tongue is buried in a pussy you can taste lots of things, but marketing expertise isn’t one of them.”

“Is that all?” asked Sylvia. “How about Melissa?”

I had forgotten Melissa. “Sure,” I said.

“And what about Jay?” she asked.

Well, that was true.

“And Seth?” she continued.

Yeah, that was also true.

“And Ted?”

Now I objected.

“We never had sex,” I replied. “I had his dick in my mouth, sure, but he withdrew before he came.”

Sylvia gave me “the look,” the one that says stop trying to kid either one of us.

“Okay, so six girls and three guys. What about it?” I wanted to know where this was going.

“Sometimes straight guys suck dick,” she said. “Why wouldn’t a gay guy fuck a pussy?”

Why not indeed. My Anthony education was occurring increasingly outside the classrooms.