Clara and Molly's room

You can hear loud hip-hop music coming through the door. Molly is a well-built blonde cheerleader-type, complete with perky attitude and great legs, and Clara is a cute urban black girl from somewhere in the South, judging by her accent. You seem to recall maybe Atlanta or something. The two of them don't get along very well, with frequent screaming matches in their room that sometimes bleed out into the hall. Molly, though she is not a racist by any means, has never known discrimination, and Clara has never escaped it, so most of their arguments are about racial politics.

Maybe if the door is open, you can sneak in under the cover of the music and look for the book. You put your hand on the knob and turn it excruciatingly slowly. It doesn't make a sound. You gently push the door inward silently. The lights are dim, and you close the door behind you, so the lights in the hallway don't reveal your presence. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, your ears pick up something odd: heavy breathing and quiet moaning. Someone is having sex.

Now that you can see better, you look over at Molly's bed and receive a shock. Molly is stark naked on the bed and it looks like Clara, just as naked, is eating out her pussy. Clara has one hand on Molly's small, but firm, tit with Molly's hand on top of it, while it squeezes. Clara's other hand is hidden from view, but, from the motion of Clara's shoulders, you'd have to guess she is finger-fucking Molly vigorously. Molly's other hand is pinching her other nipple. Either the fights are a put-on to divert everyone's attention from the fact that they are lovers, or they recently discovered their mutual attraction and haven't had time to change their behavior. If it's the latter, this might be the first time they've had sex, since you remember a huge fight just after lunch today. This could even be makeup sex from that fight.

While you watch entranced by their lesbian display, Molly arches her back and moans louder. The hand covering Clara's hand goes up to Molly's mouth, and she stuffs her fingers in to stifle her outcries. Though you aren't bi or gay, you are still aroused by the tableau before you.

Your cooch is getting wet listening to and watching these two make love. Suddenly, you remember your purpose in sneaking in here and start scanning the room for your bag. On Clara's desk, not three feet from you, is your bag. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Your attention is attracted back to the two roommates when Molly groans into her muffling hand, and her lithe body starts bucking and quaking in a big orgasm.