College Threesome

Linda transferred to a small, relatively private women's college after her sophomore year. Within a few weeks, she knew she had found the right environment.

This story is about the strange memories she has from that time.

She got along well with her new dorm roommate, Sherry, and genuinely admired some of her professors. Life on campus felt intimate, almost insular, but that only made certain experiences stand out more.

One evening, a group of girls decided to go out for drinks. The bar was lively, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter. They sat together, unwinding from the day, swapping stories, and letting the booze ease the stress.

As the night stretched on, people began to drift out. By nine, only a handful remained. Linda found herself alone at one end of the long wooden table, nursing her drink. At the other end, two figures still sat deep in conversation — Sherry and Francesca.

Francesca was already married to Giovanni, a wealthy young man, but she lived alone in an incredible apartment near campus. She was stunning, effortlessly magnetic, and well known for her... selective interest in women.

Linda hesitated, then slid down the bench toward them. She didn't want to intrude, but the night was winding down, and she wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"Hey, you two," she said as she settled in. "Deep conversation?"

Sherry glanced at her with a warm smile. "Just gossip, really," she said, swirling her drink. Then she glanced at her phone. "But I should probably head out — early morning tomorrow."

She stood, grabbing her purse. "See you back at the dorm?"

Linda nodded, watching as Sherry left. When she turned back, Francesca smirked and took a slow sip of her drink.

"Was I interrupting something?" Linda asked playfully.

Francesca exhaled a short laugh. "Not really. Just testing the waters."

Linda raised an eyebrow. "With Sherry?"

Francesca gave her a knowing look. "What do you think?"

Linda considered it. Sherry was stunning, but she had always struck Linda as the type who naturally attracted men. Still, attraction could be unpredictable.

"I think," Linda said, leaning in slightly, "that she seems more like a 'guy's fantasy' than someone who'd go for a woman. But I could be wrong."

Francesca tilted her head. "You're not wrong. But sometimes, you never know until you ask."

Linda swirled the ice in her glass, watching Francesca carefully. "Did you ask?"

Francesca chuckled. "Subtly. She played coy. Which usually means no."

Linda smiled, feeling bold from the drink and the cozy understanding between them. "What if she says yes?"

Francesca's dark eyes flicked up to meet Linda's. "Then I would've invited her back to my place."

Linda nodded "Sounds like an interesting night."

Francesca smirked. "Could've been. But, you know, plans change."

Linda held her gaze for a second longer, a small thrill sparking in her chest. "They do."

Francesca leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the side of her glass. "What about you? Would you have said yes?"

"I guess you never know until you ask."

Francesca studied her, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Consider this me asking."

Linda felt a flush rise in her cheeks, though whether from the drinks or Francesca's directness, she wasn't sure. She glanced at the nearly empty glass in front of her, as if the answer might be swirling somewhere in the melting ice.

"What if I said maybe?" Linda teased, tilting her head.

Francesca chuckled. "Then I'd say we should order another round and see where the night takes us."

Linda hesitated for a second before lifting her hand to signal the bartender. "Alright," she said, meeting Francesca's gaze.

As they sipped their fresh drinks, the conversation took an unexpected but exhilarating turn. Francesca leaned in slightly. "You know," she mused, "Sherry has an amazing body."

Linda laughed, taken slightly off guard but intrigued. "No arguments there."

Francesca smirked. "But she's exactly the type of woman men drool over. Not really my type."

Linda tilted her head. "So, what is your type?"

Francesca's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Confident. A little unpredictable. Someone who knows what she wants but doesn't mind being surprised."

Linda swirled her drink. "Sounds... exciting."

Francesca raised an eyebrow. "And you? If you had to pick, what kind of woman catches your eye?"

Linda hesitated for a second. "Strong, but not overbearing. Someone who's playful, who doesn't take herself too seriously."

Francesca nodded. "Interesting. And yet, here we are, having one of the most open conversations about sex I've had in a while."

Linda laughed, shaking her head. "Same. I don't think I've ever talked this freely about attraction with anyone — male or female."

Francesca leaned in. "Maybe it's the drinks."

Linda met her gaze. "Or maybe it's just good company."

Francesca's smirk softened into something almost thoughtful. "Maybe."

After a brief pause, Linda shifted in her seat, studying Francesca's expression. Then, she asked, "I heard you're happily married."

Francesca chuckled, a soft, knowing sound. "Yes, but it's... complicated."

Linda tilted her head. "Complicated how?"

Francesca took a slow sip of her drink, letting the moment stretch before answering. "It's not like I'm repulsed by men," she said finally.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Francesca swirled the liquid in her glass, watching the way it caught the dim bar lights.

"Theoretically, I could be with a man. But there are... things that completely turn me off. Deal-breakers."

Linda leaned in slightly. "Like what?"

Francesca smirked, her dark eyes flickering with amusement. "You sure you want to know?"

Linda laughed, taking a sip of her own drink. "You brought it up."

Francesca sighed, as if debating whether to answer, then finally set her glass down. "It's not about dominance or control. It's just that there are so many little things — things couples do naturally — that would get in the way."

Linda narrowed her eyes, intrigued. "Like?"

Francesca exhaled, glancing at Linda before continuing. "It would only work if the guy let me take complete control of the dynamic. No instigating. No assumptions. Just... following my lead."

Linda grinned playfully. "So you do want to dominate a man."

Francesca shook her head, her expression serious now. "No. That's not it at all." She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer. "It's not about power. It's about avoiding situations that make me uncomfortable."

Something about the way she said it — calm but unwavering — sent a small shiver down Linda's spine. She wasn't sure whether it was Francesca's confidence or the underlying vulnerability in her words. Either way, she wanted to know more.

"So, what happens when someone doesn't follow your rules?" Linda asked, her voice quieter now.

Francesca's lips curled into a slow, almost secretive smile. "They don't get to stay."

Linda held her gaze, her pulse quickening. This conversation had taken a turn she hadn't expected.

Linda and Francesca must have been plenty drunk, because before long, their conversation took an unexpected turn.

"You know, it's funny," Linda mused, swirling the last of her drink in her glass. "Have you ever thought about actually trying something like that with a girl like me?"

Francesca let out a dry chuckle. "You mean — me calling all the shots? And you just going along with it?"

Linda smirked. "I mean...why not? Just to see if it could work."

Francesca tilted her head, studying Linda. "You don't really think it would, though."

Linda shrugged. "Probably not. You'd get frustrated, or I'd get bored. But...it could be interesting for a little while. A test, if nothing else."

Francesca exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "You're actually considering this?"

"Aren't you?" Linda challenged.

"Well, I have to admit, I'm curious. Maybe you're right — it wouldn't last. But...what if it did?"

Linda laughed. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

As they stepped out of the bar into the cool night air, Linda glanced over at Francesca. "So... whose place?"

Francesca smirked. "Remember, you're not supposed to instigate anything."

Linda hesitated for a moment, suddenly wondering what she'd gotten herself into. But curiosity — or maybe the alcohol — pushed her forward. "Alright then. My car?"

Francesca nodded. "That works."

They slid into the front seats, the air between them charged with an unspoken tension. Linda turned to face Francesca, but before she could say anything, Francesca spoke first.

"One thing I do like," Francesca said, "is kissing."

Linda felt her pulse quicken. "Yeah?"

Francesca nodded. "For tonight, that's it. Just kissing. No touching, no hugging — just lips."

Linda let out a soft laugh. "Setting the rules already, huh?"

"That's the deal, isn't it?"

Linda met her gaze, then slowly smiled. "Alright. Just kissing."

Francesca leaned in first, closing the space between them. Their lips met, slow and deliberate, as the world outside the car faded away.

That moment was strangely surreal — setting such strict limits, surrendering control completely, even over something as small as placing a hand on Francesca's shoulder. It was unlike anything Linda had ever experienced, and yet, she was ready to follow through on their experiment.

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, exploratory kiss. There was an intensity to it, an awareness of how little they were allowed to do beyond this simple act. No hands, no bodies pressing together — just lips and breath and the quiet hum of the night around them.

Francesca pulled back first, studying Linda with a slight smile. "Different, isn't it?"

Linda let out a breathy laugh. "You could say that. Feels... a little like a tease."

"And you're okay with that?"

Linda tilted her head, considering. "Yeah. I think I am. It's... kind of exciting."

Francesca smirked. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

She leaned in again, this time deepening the kiss just slightly. Linda let herself sink into it, tasting Francesca, feeling the power in the restraint. Every instinct told her to move, to touch — but she didn't.

And somehow, that made it all the more thrilling.

It had been a long time since Linda had kissed someone like this — deep, unhurried, and for five, ten minutes or more. It started as one slow, lingering kiss, but within minutes, their tongues were teasing, exploring, taking turns invading each other's mouths. The restraint, the deliberate pace, only made it more intoxicating.

Linda's pulse pounded. The urge to reach out, to pull Francesca closer, was almost unbearable. But she held back, playing by Francesca's rules. Every few minutes, they paused just long enough to catch their breath, their lips hovering close, eyes heavy with heat. Linda could tell Francesca was just as turned on, though she remained in control, dictating the rhythm of their game.

Time slipped away. Half an hour passed, lost in the slow burn of anticipation. Then, during one of their brief pauses, Francesca pulled back slightly.

"That was a good first evening," she murmured. "I'm going home."

Linda blinked, still dazed from the intensity of their make-out session. "Wait — what?"

Francesca tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "You heard me. That's it for tonight."

Linda stared at her, her body still thrumming with heat. "You're seriously just going to leave me like this?"

Francesca chuckled. "Mmmhmm. And you're still ready for this... relationship?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were sharp, watching Linda carefully.

Linda opened her mouth to answer, but no coherent words came out. She was too turned on, too caught in the frustration and excitement of Francesca's game. Francesca leaned in, pressing one last soft kiss to Linda's lips before pulling away completely.

"Think about it," Francesca said with a wink. Then, without another word, she slipped into the night, leaving Linda breathless — aching for more.

***

The next day, Francesca approached her. "Come over to my place tonight." It wasn't a question.

That evening, Linda arrived to find Francesca had prepared a gourmet dinner, complete with wine. The atmosphere was intimate, deliberate. Francesca's flat was in an old city house — easily pre-war, possibly a century old. Yet, despite its age, it was impeccably maintained, exuding quiet elegance.

They ate, their conversation weaving through lighthearted topics and deeper confessions. With each sip of wine, the tension between them thickened, simmering beneath their words like an unspoken dare.

Then, after the last drop of wine was drained, Francesca reached for Linda's hand. Then, she led her down the hallway, toward the bedroom.

At the doorway, Linda hesitated, suddenly aware of how unfamiliar this all felt — how unfamiliar she felt. The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching along the walls. But the moment Francesca stepped inside, she flicked off the last remaining light, plunging them into darkness.

Something shifted within Linda. Deprived of sight, every other sense sharpened — the soft rustle of fabric, the faint scent of wine and perfume, the warmth of Francesca's presence just inches away.

She took a steadying breath, and to her own surprise, her voice emerged steady, quiet, yet commanding.

"Sit on the edge of the bed."

A pause. Then, in the darkness, Linda heard Francesca obey.

There was a pause, then the faint rustle of movement as Francesca complied. The room was pitch black — so dark they couldn't see their own hands in front of their faces. Linda listened intently, waiting, sensing Francesca's presence more than seeing it.

A new boldness took hold of her. "Take off everything but your underwear and undershirt," she said. "Then get under the covers."

For a moment, there was silence, then the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting, zippers sliding, clothing being peeled away. Francesca complied without question, and Linda could hear her slipping under the covers.

Linda exhaled slowly, still standing there in the darkness. Then, just as quietly, she began removing her own clothes.

The moment they were both under the covers, Francesca's voice, smooth and certain, broke the silence. "We're going to kiss again for a while. Just like before."

Linda felt her breath catch. In the darkness, they reached for each other, their lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was just as intoxicating as the night before — perhaps even more so now that they were both partially undressed.

After several lingering moments, Francesca murmured, "You can touch my face." Her fingers found Linda's cheek, tracing a soft, exploratory path.

Linda followed suit, brushing her fingertips over Francesca's jawline, her lips, her temple. The slow, careful caresses sent shivers down her spine. It was a lovely kind of torture.

But this time, Linda had more ideas. A hunger had been growing inside her, a need to push beyond the careful boundaries Francesca had set. She let her fingers drift lower, trailing down the column of Francesca's neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her touch. Francesca didn't stop her.

Encouraged, Linda whispered, "Can I touch more?" Her voice was hushed, hesitant but eager.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breath mingling in the dark. Then Francesca's voice came, softer this time. "Not yet. Just this for now."

It was both frustrating and thrilling. Linda felt like she wanted more. So she surrendered to the moment, to the slow, simmering tension, and they continued kissing, hands ghosting over each other's skin, exploring — but only within the limits Francesca allowed.

After several minutes — though it was impossible to tell exactly how long in the pitch-black room — Linda's voice came soft but firm. "Lie down on your stomach."

Francesca hesitated a moment before complying, shifting under the covers until she lay face down. The mattress dipped slightly as Linda adjusted beside her. Then, Francesca felt it — a light touch on her side, tracing up her ribs before settling gently on her back. A warm palm rested there, grounding her.

"Stay still," Linda murmured.

Francesca obeyed, anticipation curling inside her. Slowly, deliberately, Linda slipped her hand beneath Francesca's tee-shirt, her fingertips gliding over bare skin in slow, soothing strokes. The touch was gentle yet deliberate, each motion sending waves of warmth through Francesca's body.

"Do the same to me," Linda instructed.

Francesca turned slightly, finding Linda in the dark. Her hands slid beneath the fabric of Linda's shirt, discovering smooth, heated skin. Her fingers brushed against the strap of Linda's bra, then moved lower, exploring the curve of her waist, the dip of her back. Francesca could feel that Linda wore only her bra and panties, nothing more.

The slow, mirrored caresses deepened. Linda's hands wandered further, slipping under the band of Francesca's panties, fingertips grazing the soft flesh of her hips, then lower. Francesca followed suit, her own fingers tracing the same path, gripping and kneading as Linda did.

Then Linda's touch became more daring. Her hand slid between Francesca's cheeks, fingers teasing at the sensitive skin there. Francesca's breath hitched, her entire body tensing at the intimate intrusion. A beat later, Linda whispered, "Do the same."

Francesca's pulse pounded. There was a moment of hesitation, a sharp thrill of uncertainty, but then she obeyed, mirroring Linda's actions. The sensation was electric, the darkness amplifying every touch, every movement. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with breathless anticipation, with the slow burn of something neither of them could name just yet.

Francesca took her time, her hands firm yet teasing as she kneaded Linda's cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers ventured into the cleft of her ass, seeking out the sensitive ring of muscle. Linda's breath hitched — just a small, involuntary sound, but enough for Francesca to hear.

Francesca began pressing her finger inward, testing, exploring.

"Do it to me, too," she murmured.

Linda, caught somewhere between anticipation and surrender, reached for Francesca, mirroring her touch.

Soon, they each had a finger buried in the other's heat, their bodies moving closer, their breath mingling in the charged darkness.

Then Linda felt it — soft lips brushing against her cheek, searching. A slow, lingering kiss against her jaw. And then, finally, their mouths met, parting hungrily, tongues tangling in a deep, desperate kiss.

The absolute blackness made everything more intense. With no sight to rely on, every touch, every taste, every gasp of air between them felt magnified.

Their bodies pressed together, slick and warm, fingers still exploring, pushing deeper. Linda had no idea how much time had passed — minutes, hours? The darkness stole all sense of it. There was only sensation, the slow, intoxicating rhythm they had fallen into, and the delicious unknown of where Francesca would lead her next.

The sudden burst of light was blinding. Linda winced, her pupils struggling to adjust, but before she could take in more than a blur of Francesca's flushed face and tousled hair, Francesca pulled away, slipping her finger from Linda's body.

Linda exhaled shakily and followed suit, mirroring Francesca's movements.

A moment later, as her vision cleared, she saw Francesca reaching for something on the bedside table — a small jar of lubricant. She dipped a finger inside, coating it generously, then disappeared under the covers. Linda watched as her hand slid behind her own back, her expression unreadable.

Francesca glanced up and handed Linda the jar. "Do the same," she murmured.