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Rush Week is undoubtedly one of the wildest times a young man will ever go through. Before shit gets real you’re treated like a king. You can bounce around to parties, you’re welcome pretty much everywhere, and you can do whatever the fuck you want. I remember during my Rush Week I was stripped down to my briefs, covered in chocolate syrup, and paddled by a stripper. Twice. At two different houses. I don’t know if there was a theme that year or if strippers severely lack originality, but I didn’t care. It was great.
I can’t say this story in particular happened to me, but it’s an all-time classic nonetheless. A good friend of mine named James attends a wealthy, affluent private school and experienced the following during his own Rush Week.
Like any freshman rushee, this was a whole new world for James. He had been through orientation, rush parties over summer, etc. But now it was time for the magical week of rush. The week started strong for him as he went around seeing the houses, greeting new guys and whatnot, but once the sun set the parties got wild. Anal ring toss and stripper olympics (strippers competing in various competitions, including the “banana swallow” event) were a part of the first two nights. With plenty of rush still to go, things naturally escalated as the days passed.
When he woke on Wednesday he didn’t realize that he was in for one of the most memorable nights of his life. All week long the rush captain of one fraternity kept promising him “Wednesday night is the one event you need to come to.” James was intrigued, and naturally curious. After seeing two days of strippers doing disturbingly awesome things, 18-year-old James had a hard time picturing what could be next. Once he arrived at the bar the rush chair greeted him with an enormous shit eating grin and proclaimed that it would be “a night like you’ll never have again.” In James’ own words, “My balls quickly ascended and my boner was ready to explode through my pants at this point. That’s how excited I was for whatever crazy shit was coming.”
James arrived around 10:30, mixed around, pounded drinks, and met some people, but once 11:30 hit the bar erupted in frenzy. People were cheering, shouting and hollering; the place was going absolutely insane like they had just won the World Series. In the distance, two curvaceous, buxom, busty silhouettes moved through the crowd, which split like the Red Sea to form a path for them. As they walked by James he realized that these weren’t just two ordinary vaginas for hire, but two very well known actresses. Porn actresses. Porn. Full penetration, scissor me timbers, forget-the-clever-movie-spoof-names-we’re-skipping-straight-to-the-pounding porn. Not only that, one of them happened somewhat of a legend in the jizz biz. She was also one of his all time favorite pornstars. I can guarantee half of the guys reading this now have rubbed it out to her. Multiple times probably. And then comes the greatest announcement anyone could hope for in the presence of two pornstars: “Gentlemen, we have brought these young, professional, sexy ladies here for you. Free lap dances all night!”
With a lot of guys lining up, James had to patiently wait his turn for that sweet, overworked pornstar V to get in and around his face. James saw what these women were doing to the other guys and could barely contain himself. They were making the strippers he had seen on the previous nights seem like they had some semblance of decency. He decided to move around and patiently wait for his opportunity, so he went upstairs. A floor up there were temporary inflatable couches available since there were so many people in the bar that night. James met some other rushees, but couldn’t keep his eyes off the curvy, voluptuous breasts and asses of the pornstars a mere few feet away from him. It also didn’t help that these curves were covered in various dessert themed condiments throughout the night. It was like a sloot sundae, except there wasn’t a cherry within a mile of the building. The guys getting lap dances were put on display, stripped, teased, and paddled. Most importantly though, they were getting a faceful of everything the “actresses” had to offer, not to mention the porn stars were being enjoyably handsy with their subjects.
Around 1:45am James got his turn. Finally a chance to be one-on-one with the woman who had always made James a white-knuckler. She led him upstairs for a little more privacy. Once there she pushed him down onto one of the inflatable couches. With no hesitation, she immediately straddled James. Shit got real freaky real fast. About three minutes in she attempted an impressive but ambitious move where she flips upside down to put her vag right in James’ face in one motion. But things didn’t work out so well. As she flipped she placed her hand on the inflatable couch. Her hand, which was covered in God knows how many substances at that point, slipped on the couch and caused her to lose balance. Her vag came down on James’ nose with the force of a speeding dump truck hauling gonorrhea. An immediate nosebleed ensued. According to him it was the worst his nose has ever bled in his life. Funny, you’d think that region of the porn star would have been a little softer after years of relentless tenderization. Regardless, James ended up bleeding all over her while she lay on the ground embarrassed and confused. Not sure how to proceed, he stood up, muttered “Thanks,” and left.
When he was leaving the bar a group of actives stopped him because of the blood on his shirt. They accused him of beating up the porn star, who was seen upstairs “covered in blood and on the ground, with a confused look on her face.” James told his side of the story, for fear of getting jumped, or even worse, balled from the house. The actives loved the story so much that they gave him a bid on the spot.
The story of James’ nose being the anvil to a porn star’s weathered pelvic hammer spread across school, and the tale went on to become campus legend before he even pledged. Fraternities went out of their way to find James and rush him. Many people didn’t even think he existed (and still don’t), and thought it was all made up. They thought he was an “urban legend” told to inspire young rushees. Today he’s chapter president of the same fraternity that held the event and an intern for Goldman Sachs. For many people though, he’ll always just be “that guy that bled all over that porn star.”
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