My Lesbian Roommates

I will never forget the Sunday morning that I discovered my roommates were lesbian. I was sleeping in late. It was a rare privilege for me on Sunday mornings. I work two jobs you see. One of them is a nine-to-five in an office, but on the weekends I am respite care for a family whose mother has Alzheimer's. It makes for a full schedule even when you are barely twenty. But I hope that it will allow me to return to university in a year or two without accumulating a great deal of student loan debt.

So usually, I do not get in on Sunday until much later. But the night before my patient had been taken to the hospital with a fever. After staying in the Accident & Emergency with her family until after one in the morning, I was looking forward to being able to sleep until noon...at least.

But looking over at the clock, I notice that it is barely seven. I was awoken by the creaking of a bed above me and loud feminine moans. Now I live with two other girls, but we have always been very respectful of one another. I could only remember once when one of them had an overnight guest, but they were much quieter than this.

As for me, I had only the cold metal companionship of my pocket rocket under my pillow to provide relief. I was simply too busy for a relationship. I was the child of divorce and had watched my mother indulge in casual sex, so that held no appeal for me.

When she first met my roommates, my mother swore that they were a couple. But in my almost six months of living there, they had given no sign of any extracurricular activities. Like I said, one of them had even had this guy stay overnight, when the other was out of town.

But as I tried very hard to get back to sleep that morning, it seemed as if I could hear two distinctly feminine moans from the room above me. I wondered. Could my very experienced mother be right? Where my roommates lesbian?

Not that it would matter to me. My parents had raised to be amazingly liberal when it came to such things. It would not affect my relationship with them at all. In fact, I would be happy for both of them. They were after all both really sweet people. Although a few years older than me, we had become friends of sort. At the very least, we had a good thing going as roommates.

As I listened to the moaning get even louder, I wondered. Perhaps they had something better going on that I knew about?

For a moment, I thought about quietly climbing the stairs and politely knocking on the door. It was reasonable after all to ask them to keep it down. But that seemed too confrontational...and as the child of divorce I avoid confrontation at all cost. I thought perhaps about going down the hall for a shower. Surely they would hear that and quiet things down. But as a particularly loud scream echoed through the walls, I realised that perhaps they would be a little too busy, shall we say, to notice something so trivial.

As I lay there in bed, unable to return to sleep and most definitely listening to two female voices, I decided the best course of action was...if you can't beat them, join them. Reaching under my pillow for my trusty vibrator, I slid it pulsating cold metal between my legs and imagined the two of them locked in a sixty-nine; their heads buried between one another's thighs. Licking and sucking. Fingers working inside of tight, wet pussies.

I was quieter than they were, but it did not take me long to join in the moaning and cumming.

They were both quiet and uncomfortable when I walked into the kitchen with my mug for coffee a while later. I am sure that they had not even realised that I had cum home during the night. But I acted like nothing had happened. A few weeks later they decided to cum out to me as it were. But never in all the time that I lived them did they again make that level of noise.

Of course, a couple of months later my new boyfriend really enjoyed my fantasy of them upstairs loving as we were doing the same downstairs. That always got his motor going.