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Sophomore Year

The Fuck House on Frat Row: Episode 4


I.M. Cockman

Copyright © 2019 by I.M. Cockman, Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The author can be reached at


This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only.  It contains sex acts between consenting adults, and all characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Sophomore Year: Part One - Bobby Lane

Sophomore Year: Part Two - Mike Parker

Sophomore Year: Part Three - Bobby Lane

Sophomore Year: Part Four - Mike Parker

I.M. Cockman’s Newsletter

Other Books by I.M. Cockman

About the Author

Sophomore Year: Part One

Bobby Lane

I stared at Professor Tucker in shock, although why I should be surprised to hear that I was failing a class that I’d been struggling with ever since the start of my sophomore year, I don’t know.

Is there… is there any way I can, uh…”

I twisted the strap of my backpack in my hand, not finishing the sentence because I wasn’t sure what I was even trying to ask for. Is there any way I could not fail, please, even though so far, Tucker’s economics class had pretty much been beyond me? Any way I could not disappoint Mike, my sort-of-boyfriend and fraternity alumnus, who was counting on me to get a degree in finance so I could work with him after I graduated in a few years? Any way I could just sink into a hole in the ground right here and now, pretend I didn’t spend half my class time bored and the other trying to keep my dick from getting hard, just because Tucker was kind of hot for an old guy?

Well, not old enough to be silver-fox material, maybe, but definitely way older than me. He had to be at least thirty, right? Not that he looked it—which was kind of the problem, since I’d been seriously sex-deprived since coming back to campus the month before and old or not, Tucker was hot—but a guy had to be old to be a professor, right?

Mr. Lane? Hello?”

Tucker was waving his hand in front of my face, sounding impatient, and I jerked my eyes off his impressive package and back up to his face, feeling my own flush with the kind of heat that probably meant I’d turned bright red. I swallowed hard, mentally scrambling to pick up my train of thought.

Were you planning on finishing that question?”

Fuck me. The way he asked, all glare-tastic and hard ass, had my dick twitching.

I ignored it. Go me. “Um, I was just asking if there’s any chance of, you know, not failing?”

Tucker smiled, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge out and his shirt sleeves stretch tight around them, and raised an eyebrow at me. “There’s always a chance of not failing. We’ve still got the bulk of the semester in front of us, Mr. Lane. I’m sure if you apply yourself, you’ll do just fine.”

I nodded glumly, not nearly as sure about that as he sounded, and shuffled out of the classroom. At the end of my freshman year, getting back to school and back to living in the Phi Beta Nu fraternity house—the one that had earned the nickname The Fuck House on Frat Row—had been all I could think about. Freshmen Nu brothers were required to serve the seniors in any and every way the seniors required, and a lot of what was “required” was the reason Phi Beta Nu had earned the title Fuck House.

A lot of the other freshmen had complained about having to bend over and take it, or spent all their time whining about how long they’d have to wait for a turn at being a senior themselves. Me, though? I’d loved every second of my freshman year. I’d loved it rough, and I’d loved it hard, and I’d loved it all just a little bit more when it was coming from the senior who’d initiated me into the frat, Brother Mike.

Fuck, I missed him.

I made it across campus and pushed open the front door to the Fuck House, enjoying my own personal pity party as I thought about how different this year was from the last. For one thing, Mike had graduated, which made the Fuck House feel about a hundred percent emptier even though it was actually packed with guys, so full that some of the freshmen even had to share rooms. And for another, well, I was a sophomore now.

At the Fuck House, freshmen had to take it and seniors got to dish it out, the rest of us, though? We didn’t have frat house rules about the sophomores and juniors, and even though some of the guys still hooked up and messed around, I hadn’t had any action since summer ended.

Because summer?

Best. Summer. Ever.

Mike had gotten me an internship at the finance company he’d started working at, and I’d basically moved in with him and continued right on “serving his any and every need” right up until I’d had to pack up and come back here for sophomore year. And even though we hadn’t talked about anything beyond the summer at all—well, other than Mike making it very clear that he still expected me to come work with him after I graduated, which was either in approximately forever or maybe never if I didn’t find a way to pass Tucker’s economics class—he’d told me in no uncertain terms that I was his.

Not his boyfriend—even though if I’m being super honest, I sort of like to think of him that way even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think of me that way—but more like he owned my ass… and every other part of me. Which suited me even better than fine. I was kind of sprung on Mike, so even though I got hard pretty much any time I was awake and breathing—and especially when I had someone hot like Professor Tucker as eye candy—I hadn’t actually wanted to do anything about it because then it might feel like my ass wasn’t Mike’s, you know?

Kind of stupid, since he probably… maybe… most likely didn’t care at all. I mean, all the seniors used my ass last year and he didn’t bat an eye, but still, things felt different now. And God, thinking things might be different was probably even more stupid of me, since even though Mike’s been staying in touch ever since I got back to school, I probably wouldn’t actually bet to see him in person again until I graduate… unless he wants me to come for the summer again next year, which I hadn’t wanted to push my luck by asking, since it was still so far away.

And like, what? Even if that’s a yes on another summer with him, was I supposed to go completely without cock all the way until then?

Like I said, stupid, but so far, since getting back to school, I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to do anything about my perpetual state of nineteen-year-old horniness other than jerk myself raw. Something that, the minute I made it a few steps into the Fuck House after my frustrating meeting with Professor Tucker and saw what my frat brothers were up to, I realized I was going to be doing again just as soon as I could get my cock out of my pants.

Because… yeah, okay. Pity party over, for the moment. Even without Mike here and with me being averse to looking for someone else to fuck my sorry, lonely ass, living in the Fuck House didn’t suck. The place definitely earned its name, and even if I was sort of stupidly “saving myself” or some other sentimental bullshit, that wasn’t going to stop me from getting off on what happens here.

Seriously, being a Phi Beta Nu brother was the best thing ever.

Greg Benson, another sophomore, glanced over his shoulder at me as I let the front door shut a little too hard and mumbled a quick “Hey, Bobby” in greeting. He didn’t spare me any more attention after that, though, not that I could blame him. Looked like he couldn’t tear himself away from the live porn show that half our frat brothers were ringed around watching with him and from the sound of things, someone was getting fucked just as hard and rough as I generally liked it.

Damn, but I was jealous. Jealous and turned the fuck on.

I shrugged off my backpack and let it fall by the door, fumbling at my zipper as I hurried over to get a better look. Even though I hadn’t exactly been able to see what was going on from the door, just the fact that a dozen or so of my brothers were circled up around one of the beer-stained couches in the front room would have been enough to clue me into the fact that something fun was going on. And the slick, rhythmic slurping sound of a dozen guys jerking off at once while they watched the action? Fuck, that got me so hard I had trouble getting my zipper down without hurting myself.

I finally managed it, pushing my way into the circle next to Greg and then getting even more turned on when he slung an arm around me for balance. He wasn’t holding me hard, not pinning me down or anything, but I was so far past craving some kind of domination that just the weight of his arm was almost enough to set me off.

Greg was working his cock hard with his free hand—it was thick and fat, already red and slick from the way he kept thrusting it so hard through his fist—and the sight made my mouth water. If I was going to ask someone here to fuck me—which of course I wasn’t planning on doing, because my ass belonged to Mike—Greg and his oversized cock would have definitely been near the top of my list. I’ve jerked off with him before, getting off hard and fast every time just by imagining that it was me he was pounding into so roughly, instead of his own fist.

Yeah, I was Mike’s, but I wasn’t dead, right?

I loved cock—loved it—and figuring that out had definitely been one of the best parts of college so far. That’s right, I actually didn’t know this pretty basic fact about myself before pledging Phi Beta Nu. Suspected, maybe, but it wasn’t until my freshman year as a Nu brother that I figured it out beyond a shadow of a doubt: I was gay as fuck, and the only thing I liked better than cock was cock inside me. Preferably, of course, Mike’s cock, rough and fast and anywhere he wanted to put it. But since Mike fucking me wasn’t an option at the moment, the live action porn that living in the Fuck House provided was the next best thing.

The circle jerk happening around me would have been hot enough to do it for me all on its own, if I was being honest, but the real action was what my brothers were all circled up watching. And that?

Hot. As. Fuck.

My cock jerked in my hand, and next to me, Greg started muttering “fuck fuck fuck,” his hip rubbing against me as he thrust faster and faster through his fist.

Give it to him, Brady,” someone else mumbled, the sound almost lost in all the grunting and moaning and the sloppy, wet sound of so many cocks in hand.

Give it to him hard,” someone else panted, making me groan. I fucking loved it hard, and watching was almost as good as getting.

Brady Jones and Carl Williams, a couple of the senior Nu brothers this year, were exercising their rights and making a freshman their bitch on the couch we were all circled around. Both seniors were known to get a little rough with the pledges, and the freshman they had pinned between them right now—I was pretty sure his name was Brad or Thad or something like that—was definitely being used hard.

Some of the freshmen hated getting used like they were nothing but a hungry cock hole, but I could tell by the look on the boy’s face that he wasn’t one of those. He was like me, hurting a bit from how hard the seniors were pounding into him at both ends and loving every minute of it.

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