Lesbian Dildo: Julie Falls
What happens when Julie's roommate leaves a gift-wrap package on her bed? She opens it, naturally. To find a huge pink double-ended dildo and a flash drive with instructions.
I Tripping
Julie and Rebecca, deep in conversation about the cultural anthropology lecture they'd both just sat through, didn't notice the carload of frat boys approaching from ahead in a blue Mustang GT, driving just to their left on the campus main street. Dr. Hammet had droned on about folkways and the fear of difference, of Otherness, in African cultures, specifically dwelling on Kramer's concept of mimesis, which -- although admittedly an old idea -- certainly offered a few intriguing (if not to say cryptic) analytical approaches to the quandary of emerging and latent-emerging sub-Saharan pan-Bantu linguo-cultural hegemonies.
It seemed that Dr. Hammet, a fervent --
"Hey red, what color's your bush?"
Julie spun instantly around, flabbergasted, caught her foot on an upturned piece of broken concrete, and fell flat on her hands and knees. By that time the blue Mustang had driven too far down the street for anyone to hear what else, what other vile comments, may have emerged from the interior of that despicable vehicle of masculine debauchery and drunkenness.
Rebecca quickly extended her hand to help lift an embarrassed Julie from the sidewalk. The knees of her jeans were scuffed by the concrete, and her hand bled from cutting themselves against the sharp edge of the broken sidewalk.
"Dammit," Julie half-shouted. "These jeans are new."
"Well, Julie. If you're going to break your neck to look at any boy who calls out to you, these things are going to happen. I didn't know you were so hard-up for a quickie," Rebecca teased.
"It's not funny."
She meant it.
She'd been so clumsy lately, seemingly so easily distracted too. Not to mention horny. She told herself to calm down, to not let her body tell her mind what to do, but still. She was so horny lately. So horny.
And clumsy.
A clumsy, horny freshman.
But still.
Rebecca knew she took her religious beliefs seriously.
She knew Julie didn't do "quickies", didn't do one-night stands, and could almost, almost still claim to be a virgin.
"Still. How long has it been for you, girl? You never have anybody over, and I never see you spend the night somewhere else."
"Ha-ha."
But Julie's words hid no humor.
Not since high school. Not since Lee.
Rebecca dove deeper in.
"You know I've said I can leave the room for a night if you need to bring home an, um, gentleman caller."
Julie didn't say anything, but she silently prayed her roommate would shut the freak up.
"It might relax you, keep you from snapping an ankle looking at the random frat guy in a muscle car."
"Oh, dang it, Rebecca. Can't you just drop it? Besides, I'm not like you, I'm not."
Julie didn't have to finish the sentence for Rebecca to hear the words.
Such a whore.
"Unless, maybe. You want to try something else."
Rebecca pinched Julie's butt and winked at her.
"Oh god. Rebecca. Just drop all that. I told you. Definitely not interested in that."
Julie never could tell if Rebecca teased or not. She'd seen her with guy friends, hanging on guys, she knew she'd spent the night regularly with someone on her roster, but still.
Something about the way Rebecca teased her.
Was she? Would she? Was she curious?
It didn't matter, though. Did it?
Because Julie definitely wasn't curious.
So, Rebecca dropped it. For the moment.
*** At the Union
At the Union, they met up with some of the Rebecca's friends. Julie felt a little stand-offish, not knowing anyone in the group except by sight from the times she'd seen them with her dorm mate. But they seemed very friendly, and Julie learned their names when she sat down, scooting her chair closer to Rebecca's to avoid being so close Luanne.
Not that any bad vibes came from the girl, it's just that. The only free seat at the round table when Becca sat down was that one, and it had been rammed up against the stranger's chair.
Luanne laughed when she saw Julie scooting her chair away from her.
"I don't bite," she laughed.
"Oh, I know," Julie excused herself, although she knew no such thing. "It's just that."
Luanne leaned over to poke Julie in the ribs.
"I'm just goofing with you."
Tricia, Juana, and Shartrell rounded out the small group, and soon the table fell into a continuous stream of gossip, chit-chat, griping, and joking. Julie dived right in, and soon she found herself blurbing on about, well, anything. Anything at all.
Tricia, with Rebecca the other white girl of the quartet, wore her dirty blond hair in a chin-length bob with a blunt fringe just below her eyebrows. She wore pink overalls over a pale blue tee shirt; she cuffed the bottom of her legs, showing the ankle above cute pink checkered sneakers. Tricia was dainty morsel, about the same size as Rebecca, with the flattest chest of the group, tiny A-cups which bothered her at times, but her small size allowed her to enjoy going out without ever wearing a bra. Her hard nipples usually poked through whatever tee or blouse she pulled over her top before going out.
Tricia got a kick out of that.
Juana boasted the fullest figure of the four, proudly showing off a round full ass with a tapering waist rising to lift a bosom every bit the counterpart of the Latina's robust bottom. Her dark hair fell in exuberant rolling waves from the part running the center of her head, and her lips smiled in full, exotic cushions of sensual delight. The only liberal artist in a crowd of business and economics majors, she double majored in English and Spanish, planning to get her master's degree in comparative literatures of northern and central America.
Her matter-of-fact style of a black tee shirt and faded jeans over black lace-up boots seemed a little too boyish for Julie's tastes, but Juana laughed and smiled at the newcomer, soon putting Rebecca's dorm mate at ease with her ready, easy-going demeanor.
Her skin gleamed lush and deep, a golden brown not quite as dark as Shartrell.
Shartrell. Tall and athletic, she carried herself a little more aloof than the rest of Rebecca's gregarious gang, but she grinned pleasantly at Julie, and her warm dark eyes twinkled with humor and affection, and Julie, looking at her, recognized something of a kindred spirit.
Julie could not know it, but Shartrell never wore the same hair style twice. Or even the same her color.
Today Shartrell's hair hung in long tight braids, outlining a keen, angular face, and she wore a bright red blouse, undone halfway to her bellybutton, showing off the dark purple lace of her bra supporting the dark cleavage of her milk chocolate breasts, less full than Juana's but well-formed and firm.
When she stood, her round ass rivaled Juana's, but Shartrell's body was taller and more muscular. She wore tight dark blue jeans and red four-inch straps. The polished the nails of her toes and fingers with different colors of yellow, pink, blue, red, orange, and green.
Multiple rings and studs of many colors glittered along the edges of Shartrell's ears, and long golden chains hung from the woman's dark and lovely neck, falling to land in the valley between her purple-encased breasts.
A small and thin golden ring hung from the side of Shartrell's nose.
Bright pink lipstick shined on her thick and fleshy lips, and glittery pink eyeshadow set off her dark eyes, outlined by long and sweeping lashes, heavily mascara'd.
For the briefest second, Julie wondered what it would be like to kiss them, those heavy pink lips.
If she were a man, she meant.
What it would be like to kiss them as a man.
Then she pushed the idea aside.
"Are you going to the reading tonight, Julie?"
The unexpected question broke Julie's haphazard train of thought.
"I'm sorry. What reading?"
