(fd, mf, ff)
*
Betsy is unable to fathom how her roommate is getting everyone to go down on her.
There was no way Sophia could be getting this much oral sex legitimately.
Betsy didn't begrudge her roommate her pleasures. God knew half of her incredulity was unadulterated jealousy, but the other half...
Kmele Colter, for instance. He was a fine,
fine
specimen of manhood. Tall, chocolate complexion, good shoulders... mmmmmm... Betsy's eyes crossed a little at the idea of him going down on her, or even just giving her the time of day, really... but there he'd been with his head nestled between Sophia's thighs, up against the bathroom door in their dormitory suite. Sophe was clearly enjoying herself—it didn't take a linguistics major (cunning or otherwise) to interpret those moans— but hadn't hung a sock on the doorknob or texted or anything.
Awkward!
But how did kinda-dumpy, not great at makeup Sophia rate such nice man-meat?
And it's not like he had been the first. Since coming back from Thanksgiving, Sophia had hooked up with at least twelve guys... and those were just the ones Betsy knew of from either walking in on them or from seeing them leave the room the next morning (if they stayed that long). Sure, they hadn't all been Kmele-caliber, but none of them were someone Betsy would kick out of bed. And judging from her own observations and Sophia's not-very-discreet commentary when she gave Betsy the unsolicited lowdown on their performance afterward, all of said gentlemen were making with the licky-licks throughout their tenure amidst her thighs. Maybe Betsy was just not good at demanding what she wanted, or just plain unlucky, but in her experience this all seemed... statistically unlikely.
It wasn't until Betsy found her roommate with her legs wrapped around other girls' faces, too, that her suspension of disbelief began to waver. The fact that she hadn't known her roommate was into girls wasn't the issue; she could have been secretive, or private, or maybe even just experimental. That was within normal parameters.
It was the girls she was with that were unbelievable. And not because they were all gorgeous, in different flavors of blonde, goth, sorority, nerdy-chic. They were. But they were also people that were well known to be on the straight side of the tracks—two of them were, in fact, members of religious coalitions on campus who were outspoken about their opposition to alternative lifestyles. Yes, it was possible all these girls were just closeted and spent time on the down low with their tongues in each other's snatches... but, again... low probability events. How the fuck was this happening?
The night Betsy discovered her best friend Callie face down in Sophia's miniskirted lap, she freaked out a little bit. She wasn't discreet at all about slamming the door and stomping out, and crashing on the couch in the common room in the dorm basement that night, and after much internal conflict visited Callie's room later the next afternoon.
"What the fuck, Callie?"
"What? What's up, Bets?"
"What's up? You and my roommate?"
"Oh. That." Callie looked down. "She told you?"
"Uh, no. I saw. Way more than I wanted to."
"Oops. Sorry, I didn't see you."
