Ask Becka for a hand

“I might need a hand,” you say.

“Oh my gosh, of course.” Becka hurries over. You are not cut that badly, but you want to hop because you don’t want an open wound touching the floor.

You safely put the knife down on a wine rack where nobody will step on it, and Becka helps you get out of the puddle of beer. You hope that you two won’t be in trouble for this, but frankly it’s the fault of whoever left this knife lying around. You are not worried.

Hopping up the stairs is tough, and then you have to hop up to the second floor as well. You head down to the bathroom that you share with a couple other pledges. It’s actually decently nice. It’s old fashioned, but pledges have come and gone, and made it cuter than it used to be. It’s full of plants and nice touches.

Becka helps you through the door and you hop up on the sink. She kneels to get the first aid kit and quickly disinfects, then applies a bandaid to your bleeding toe. Now you can walk on it, at least.

“It didn’t look that deep,” she says.

“It’s not,” you assure her.

She stands up and looks down at herself. “Wet t-shirt contest and nobody’s around to see.”

You noticed that. The house seems quiet tonight.

“I feel drunk from the fumes,” you say with a laugh, looking down at yourself. “You want to borrow some clothes?” You and Becka are about the same size.

She tugs at her sopping shirt, wrinkling her nose. “Guess I should.” Then she smiles. “We better clean up. We wouldn’t want anyone to think that CCL parties too hard. Not that cop, for sure.”

“Or our other guest,” you agree, hopping off the sink. You are so up for this. You love your girlfriend, and you can’t wait to get home to see her. But in the meantime, CCL gives you a good way to do some things that you wouldn’t get to do otherwise. Becka is shaped like you, and you have always wanted to get your hands on someone a little less bony than your girlfriend. The idea of a hot, soapy shower with Becka is enough to make you drool. You already have your shirt off and are pushing down your jammies and underwear as she’s turning the shower on.

“Someone’s excited for bath time,” Becka observes, admiring your unusually massive nipples, which are hardening up right in front of her eyes.

“Need my rubber ducky,” you say.

“I got your rubber ducky right here,” she replies. You walk over and put your hands on her waist. You don’t have to go in for a kiss; she does it. A second later you’re helping her out of her shirt. You kiss her neck as you reach around to unhook her bra.

“Get it on the first try and I’ll eat you out,” she laughs.

“You’re on,” you say, but the clasp is tricky! You fumble with it. She laughs harder, and you feel it because your chests are mashed together. You get that off, and then you’re on your knees. You get her jeans down to her knees, and she almost falls as you struggle to get them off her. Then it’s just her panties: gray cotton with a big Superman symbol on the butt. You grab her hips and use your teeth to start pulling them down, making her cackle with laughter.

The door clicks and creaks. You turn to see Bao standing there, staring with wide eyes.

Perfect. You’re naked on your knees, leaned over and biting the all but nude Becka’s panties in a bathroom that absolutely reeks of beer and arousal.

You… better say something.

Invite Bao to give you a hand?

Or tell her there’s another bathroom down the hall?