Morghen, the skinny European

Other girls are taking a more measured approach. The nail bitingly thin senior, Morghen, with her curly black hair and laissez-faire attitude, is ushering away an African-American visiting Kappa Delta female towards the stairwell, likely up to her room.

Midnight chocolate and pearly ivory, the two are a stunning pair of opposites: alike only in height and in having smoked and swallowed a bit too much in the substance department. They partnered off at Morghen's initiative: Morghen has a thing for urban folk.

"Tell me more about yor city, no?" Morghen keeps the banter easy, but her smoldering, sunken dark eyes promise titilations beyond the normal sexual pall. Morghen has her hands lightly brushing the black beauty's shoulders, running razor-sharp nails teasingly over the darker girl's skin. Before the night is through, if the inner-city black girl hasn't eaten her fill of Morgan’s snatch, you’re really a monkey‘s uncle. "I am from the city too, you know? But we call it Pari, not like with the S as you do. Try to say it like me: Pa. Ree."

"Hmm, very nice." Morgan murmurs to the girl confidingly as they go upstairs arm and arm. "I adore yor pronunciation. But, hmmm, you use your tongue not enough. You know? Come, I show you how we do it in France."

"Looks like some of our friends are having fun," Erin cooes into her brunette victim's ear, the breath sending the busty KD's hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Erin's lips trace the outline of the girl's ear lobe, tongue darting out over the diamond piercing again, worming into the sensitive ridges and making the 20-year-old college babe moan. "Maybe you should forget your plans tonight and stay a while."