Five Steps to Delta Nu

Bree knew that she probably wasn't doing a particularly good job. It wasn't something her mother had taught her while growing up. It wasn't hard though to figure out what Mr. Rutherford would like and, as a true Delta Nu girl, she should, and would, provide it. If this was a client of her husband's, she would have to do her best, and she would do so now as well. She would show her true potential for Delta Nu.

She looked up innocently with her large, round brown eyes into Mr. Rutherford's eyes, and said, "Am I doing a good job, Mr. Rutherford?"

"Oh yes, dear, very, very good."

"Have you always wanted to stick your big hard penis in between my boobies, Mr. Rutherford?"

She couldn't quite get herself to use the word 'cock' with Mr. Rutherford, but he didn't seem to mind. Just hearing her talk like this, talk like she was in fact giving him a personal lap dance in the privacy of his home, was plenty good enough. No, he would not last long at all. "Yes, yes," he gasped. "Quite a number of times," he confessed.

"Mr. Rutherford!" She momentarily stopped and pulled back, her breasts wiggling as they were set free from his lap. "What a terribly naughty thing to say. Should you really speak to me that way? I've known you since I was just a little girl."

He was momentarily nonplused, but she quickly reassured him.

She leaned back down and used her hands to wrap her breasts around his protruding cock, and began to titty fuck him, as if his cock wasn't even in his pants. "I'm not so small though anymore, am I Mr. Rutherford."

"No, no, dear, not at all. Not at all," he groaned, staring at those plush breasts mashed around his throbbing cock, providing such a wonderfully deep and full massage.

"You know," she pretended to confess, even giving him a little bashful smile, "I've always wanted to see how big and manly your penis was. It'd be so nice if you could show it to me now."

A part of him so much wanted her to stop talking like that, as he would like to last at least through one song. But, another part of him, the more important part, enjoyed it so terribly much.

"But, I know that's against the rules." She continued softly caressing, squeezing, massaging his hard dick with her naked boobs, "Maybe some night you could show me your big, hard penis through your bathroom window while I showed you my hairless little cunnie. We could play with ourselves while we watched each other diddle."

His dick was straining to be released from his pants. One past stripper had in fact reached down into his pants and grabbed it. That had shocked and pleased him to no end.

"I could see you squirt and spray your stuff all over the place. You'd probably get it all over the window, wouldn't you, Mr. Rutherford?"

He had cum all over the stripper's hand, and she hadn't minded at all. She did use his shirt though to clean her hand off, but he didn't mind.

"But, goodness, gracious, wouldn't it be much better to let it squirt all over my boobies? If you like, I'll give you a good dance in your bedroom sometime. We won't then have any of those silly rules at all." She smiled modestly. "Well, maybe, we should have a couple rules. We can't do anything really naughty, you know."

He was now so close, so close.

"I could though kiss it, you know," she said as she pulled her breasts away and bent over. "Like this," she whispered as she bent her face into his lap and planted a firm kiss right on the tip.

And that did it. He suddenly lurched, and a jettison of cum shot out of his dick, quickly wetting his boxers and soaking into his pants.

This time Bree knew what had happened and she moaned with delight. "Oh yes, Mr. Rutherford, let it all squirt out, give me your hot sticky stuff. It smells so sweet, so fresh," as she rubbed her cheek, her nose, her lips against his jerking, spurting cock.

He felt such an urge to grasp her head, to pull her face tightly into his crotch, but that was against the rules and would certainly draw unneeded and problematic attention. What she was doing now, using her face and lips, was in fact already against the rules. He sat there and basked in the pleasure of his release, his symbolic, no actual, release into Bree's willing face.

It was one of his best cums in quite a long time. He didn't cum with as much force as he had as a young man, nor did he probably even cum with as much volume, but this one did seem to feel as good as it ever had been for quite some time, his briefs quickly filling up with his sticky, sloppy gism, yet Bree continue to rub and massage him with her face.

When he was done he pulled her up, just as the first song was ending. Her face appeared to be a bit moistened from his cum-soaked pants, and he thought he could detect a bit of the tell-tale scent of his gism on her cheek as he hugged her close to him, although that could in fact just be the aroma rising up from his crotch.

He did not mind at all cumming in his pants. This was the happy ending he always sought when he came to a club. He would deal with it by taking off his jacket and hanging it over his arm as he left the club. Right now, though, he just wanted to enjoy the moment, the satisfaction of a desire, a fantasy, that he had long held.

She held him closely back, pulling his face into her soft, maternal naked bubbies. It really hadn't been so bad at all. In fact, she did actually like it. It was surprising, and pleasing, how she could excite a man so much, and just with her breasts. She might indeed let her window stay open for a bit in the future. What would be the harm in that? And, she liked it even more when he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out another hundred dollar bill, this one a bit moist.

"Here, sweetie, here is another hundred."

He did often provide an extra fifty dollar tip if the girl had been especially good. The girl who put her hand in his pants certainly got an extra fifty.

"Mr. Rutherford, how sweet of you!" She gave him another deep titty hug. She whispered into his ear. "I really did mean it when I said I would come over some time, and give you a very extra special lap dance." Being a Delta Nu girl was not only educational, it was also profitable.

Making Amends

Delta Nu girls are not selfish or inconsiderate. On the contrary, they engaged in many charitable activities, such as providing a kissing booth at the County Fair, waitressing for the annual meeting of the Livingston Bankers Bureau, and providing free make-up tips for the homeless. Delta Nu girls, however, took it one step further. They not only did good things in the present, they made amends for the bad things they had done in the past.

The fifth step of the Delta Nu initiation is to confess and atone for your sins. The first step in the process of making amends is admitting your misdeeds.

It was a very difficult step, as it was never clear to the girl how honest she should be. On the one hand, you wanted to admit to enough things to demonstrate your sincere willingness to be honest, but you didn't want to admit to things that the sorority would in fact find reprehensible, unbefitting a Delta Nu, and perhaps simply unforgivable.

Pledges typically admitted to gossiping, breaking a boy's heart, having affairs, and getting lots of parking tickets. All Delta Nu girls had affairs, at least they did before they became a Delta Nu girl. A true Delta Nu girl, of course, would always be faithful to her husband but, before that point, testing additional waters made only good sense.

Bree really didn't have much though of a scandalous history. She hadn't ever even had a true boyfriend, let alone have an affair. Of course, she could admit to lying about her past during the Delta Nu interviews. But, that was again taking the step too far. She felt that the worst thing she had done to a guy was to neglect him, to reject him, to abandon him, once she had blossomed herself.

It was George Johnson, or Georgie, as she used to call him. He had been her best friend through junior high, before she started thinking about guys in that different sort of way. They were the same age (George was actually a couple of months older) and they used to do most everything together. They played and they worked together. They helped each other with their homework. They took each other's sides when they got into trouble. They shared their most personal secrets, at least until those special days for Bree arrived. She then grew more distant.

It wasn't entirely her fault. Well, it pretty much was. Bree had been the late bloomer, but not George. He had grown interested in Bree in that way well before she was even curious, but he realized that she wasn't quite ready, and he was patient. He had been very patient.

But, once she began to fully develop, she pulled away. It wasn't that George wasn't a nice boy. He was a very considerate and sweet boy, but Bree realized that she could do better, so much better.

It wasn't that George wasn't attractive. Actually, it was that George wasn't that attractive. Persons generally pair up with someone comparable in attractiveness and Bree became clearly so much more attractive than George. George isn't even as attractive as Joseph Jamerson, and that wasn't saying a lot. He was not only skinny with glasses, a nerd who enjoyed playing computer games more so than a truly masculine sport, he even still had some pimples.

Bree could obviously do so much better, and it was only natural that she be provided the opportunity to at least try. Georgie would find someone for himself some day, someone more compatible, more suitable.

Nancy understood. This was a not uncommon problem for a Delta Nu girl. The girls of Delta Nu married up in life, they rarely married at their same level, and they certainly didn't marry down. The past of a Delta Nu girl could be littered with broken hearts. Their own hearts were never broken. They achieved what they wanted in life, and in the process it was only natural that some boys were disappointed when they were not chosen by a Delta Nu girl. Not all boys could be, and only a few could be expected to be.

But, Bree did feel bad for George, and guilty for how she had treated him, how she had drifted away, with no real explanation, no expression of appreciation for their past, for the joy of the time that they had spent together. She did feel bad about that.

"Well, excellent. I think we have our final step, Bree, and one that I hope you will embrace. You must go back to George, express your remorse, and ask for his forgiveness. A Delta Nu girl will break hearts, but she will mend them as well. She may leave a boy behind but she will do so courteously and considerately. She is never rude, neglectful, or mean. Once you obtain his forgiveness, you will be a Delta Nu."

Bree was ecstatic. Her eyes widened with delight and anticipation. That was it? That was the final step? That was all? She was now on the verge of becoming a Delta Nu, and all she had to do was to ask George for forgiveness. The light was clearly at the end of the tunnel. Her future couldn't look brighter.

She called George that evening and scheduled a time for their meeting, at his house, while his parents were away. She wanted privacy if he became upset, which was really quite possible. She knew he might cry. She had seen George cry. It was one of the qualities that compromised his status as an ideally masculine male. She didn't want him to cry while his parents were home. She knew how embarrassing that would be for him.

She came to his house with joyful anticipation. It might be an emotional evening, but she knew that in the end it would be a wonderful evening, an evening in which past wrongs were righted, past wounds were healed, and she would be free to pursue, guilt free, her even more wonderful future.

However, as she knocked on his door she was overwhelmed with a moment of panic. What if he wouldn't forgive her? What if he was still angry with her? He clearly had a right to be. She had been so inconsiderate, so selfish. What if it was she who cried?

And, when he opened the door, she did, for a moment, feel like crying, once she saw his face. He hadn't changed much. He was still that dorky guy, even now a bit shorter than herself, but his face reminded her of so many good times. "Hello, George," she said, softly.

"Hello Bree," he replied, somewhat curtly. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about? Needing more help in calculus?" She had often relied upon him for calculus.

She felt like pointing out that she had another way of passing, even excelling, at calculus, but the secrets of Delta Nu were not to be disclosed. "No, no, it's something much more important than that. Please do let me come in and explain."

He did so. He didn't really want to. He felt he had long since gotten over her departure, her dismissal of him. He didn't really see any need or benefit in pricking old wounds. But, he was not a rude nor discourteous boy. She had once been a very good friend. He wouldn't shut the door on her.

As soon as they were inside, within the family living room, she got to the point. She sat down across from him, within one of their family's more formal easy chairs. "George, I know I did not treat you well. I know that I moved on in life, and I am sorry, very sorry, for that. I came to ask for your forgiveness."

"That's it?" That's all that she wanted to say? She could have just said that on the phone. "Yea, sure, I forgive you. Don't worry about."

For a brief moment Bree felt quite good, but she knew it wasn't a heart-felt absolution. It was a dismissive forgiveness.

"George, you must understand, things change. People grow up. People grow apart. I am going down a different path than you. I'm sure you have all new friends, and I am making new friends myself."

"Not a problem, Bree. I said it was fine. No apology really needed."

It was indeed Bree who felt like crying. This was not the Georgie she used to know. This was not the boy who shared all of his deepest secrets, his most personal insecurities and fears. He was like a rock to her now, an island to which there was no bridge.

"But, George, I do want to apologize. I want to apologize in the most sincere and deepest manner that I can." She was speaking with the utmost depth and genuineness for which she was capable.

"I'm fine, Bree, really I am. I got over you a long time ago. I got no feelings for you anymore."

"Georgie, don't say that." That did really hurt. She really did like him, and it was her feelings for him that were now more evident than his feelings for her. He had apparently moved on. She had not done so fully herself.

He just shrugged his shoulders.

"Georgie, I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. There is nothing to say. Like you said, life goes on. We used to be friends. We aren't anymore. It's no big deal."

"But, it was, wasn't it? At one time?"

"Maybe for you, not for me."

Now, that was especially hurtful. Bree could feel her eyes misting. She took a deep breath, stood up before him, and began to unbutton her blouse.

"Bree, what the heck are you doing?"

"Georgie, I want to show you how sorry I am," she explained as she continued to unbutton her blouse. "You apparently don't realize it, or at least won't admit to it, and I'm not going to leave until you understand it."

"Bree, really, you don't have to do anything like that, really. Don't embarrass yourself."

However, by now Bree had unbuttoned her blouse and was unzipping her skirt. She gave him a most proud smile and let it fall to the floor.

"Oh my gosh," he gasped. Her act of disrobing had indeed been very, very beneficial. A flood of memories swept over him. Not memories of their having ever done anything together. They never had. No, what did come back was a flood of memories of prior fantasies, prior hopes, prior dreams. He had always wanted to see her undress, even before she blossomed into such a very pretty, sexy, young lady. He did not tell her to stop. He just swallowed.

Bree then opened her blouse, revealing to his eyes the girl he once loved, now fully, or most fully, grown, wearing but a brassiere, panties, white socks, and black shoes. She was not wearing one of her more sexy sets of undies. It had not seemed correct, or appropriate, when she dressed for the occasion. She had wanted to come to him as she had dressed when they were such good close friends. For a moment she regretted that decision. If she had been planning on showing herself in her panties and bra, she certainly would have worn something more attractive. The brassiere and panties she was wearing now were simply modest white cotton. There wasn't even any lace. At best there was only a small pink bow on her panties, right at the very top. And, another one, within the center strap of her brassiere. It was a modest pair of undies indeed.

But, she quickly realized that sexy undies weren't really necessary for Georgie.

"Wow, Bree. You look pretty good." The undies were relatively chaste, but they were still plenty hot, at least when Bree was wearing them. Standing before him was the lovely Bree Olson, dressed only in her unmentionables, her large, round breasts tightly wrapped in virginal white cotton, daintily accented by a little pink bow. And, her panties, Bree Olson in her panties, and such tight ones at that, so tight that they hugged her cunnie like they were painted on. He could swear that he saw the outline of her lips, the lips of Bree Olson's personal, feminine spot. "You're, like, like, beautiful."

She flushed with embarrassed self-consciousness. She knew it to be true, but it meant so much to hear it, from him. "Thank you, Georgie. I'm so glad you feel that way." She let the blouse fall to the floor. "Would you like to see more?"

He nodded his head. He wasn't too sure why she was doing this. Well, perhaps he did. But, whatever the reason he wasn't going to argue about it now.

She reached around behind her back, unclasped her brassiere, shook the straps from her shoulders, and then just let it fall from her breasts.

It did not, though, fall gracefully. The cups momentarily hung onto her nipples, which were now as erect as they had ever been. She giggled and shook the brassiere free, letting the brassiere fall, revealing to his eyes her momentarily wiggling, wondrously large, gorgeously firm, and deliciously full, ripe breasts. They were two lovely white hillocks, standing up so proud and bold, softly rising and falling with her breathing, capped by two very prominently pointed nipples. George's dick was now fully stiff within his briefs.

"Do you like how I grew up, Georgie?"

"Oh yea, yea, I sure do."

"I'm sorry I left before you could see them. I know you would have wanted to."

He didn't answer. He didn't really want to admit to that.

"Why didn't you ever let me know?"

He finally tore his eyes away from those lusciously heaving boobs to look her in the face and replied, "Would you have shown them to me?"

It was a pointed remark, but an honest one, the honesty she had been hoping to draw from her disrobing. "No, no, I probably would not have. Not until now, at least. Would you like to see more?"

"Yea, yea I would." He was feeling more comfortable now in being honest. There is something about disrobing that helps a person, both persons, to become genuine, authentic, and forthright. You were already revealing so much, why hide the truth? In this case it was only Bree who was disrobing, but it did still have the desired effect.

Bree tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, and keeping her eyes focused on his, which were actually focused somewhere else, she bent forward as she slowly pulled them off, first pulling them over her round perky bottom, which, regrettably was facing away from him, and then down her thighs and to the back of her knees, her large breasts swinging and swaying as she did so. They looked so much fuller when she was bent over like that, like true hanging udders, wanting so much to be milked, squeezed, and groped. She then let the panties go, and they fell to her ankles. She stood back up, letting the panties stay crumpled at her feet.