Search Courtney's room for the sorority underwear

After another round of lovemaking, Josh finally rises from the bed, stretching his muscular frame in the dim light of Courtney's bedside lamp.

"I should probably head out before your house mother comes after me with a broom," he jokes, gathering his scattered clothes from the floor. "It's well past midnight."

You stretch Courtney's lithe body across the sheets, still marveling at how different everything feels—the softness of her skin, the weight of her breasts as they shift with your movement, the lingering pleasant ache between her thighs.

"Good call," you reply, watching him dress with interest. "Amber might actually write you up this time."

Josh leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Last night was amazing. Different, but amazing."

"Text me when you get home?" you ask, playing the role perfectly.

"Always do." He gives you a final wink before slipping out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

The moment his footsteps fade down the hallway, you spring into action. You sit up, adjusting to Courtney's center of gravity as you slide off the bed. Her naked body catches your attention in the mirror—blonde hair tousled from sex, lips still swollen from kisses, light marks forming on her neck and collarbone. You take a moment to admire the view before focusing on your task.

"Now, where would a sorority girl keep her special underwear?" you murmur to yourself, moving to the dresser.

The top drawer contains ordinary bras and everyday underwear, organized by color. The second holds workout clothes and sleep shirts. You rifle carefully through each one, making sure to leave everything exactly as you found it.

When you reach the bottom drawer, you hit the jackpot. Tucked beneath some winter sweaters lies a small collection of Kappa Beta branded items—tank tops, shorts, and most importantly, several pairs of underwear with the sorority's Greek letters embroidered in teal thread.

"Perfect," you whisper, lifting a black thong with "KB" stitched in glittery thread on the hip.

You look down at the black thong with the glittery KB logo in your palm, a curious smile playing across Courtney's lips. The material feels delicate between your fingertips, silky and expensive. On impulse, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply. The faint scent of fabric softener mingles with something distinctly feminine—Courtney's natural fragrance perhaps, subtle but intimate in a way you couldn't experience in your own body.

You glance at the closed door, confirming the lock is still engaged. The sorority house has quieted somewhat, though distant laughter and music still filter up from the common room downstairs. Privacy assured, you step in front of Courtney's full-length mirror.

"Let's see how these look," you murmur, your voice still strange in your ears—higher, softer than your own.

You slide the thong up Courtney's slender legs, adjusting the thin straps over her hips. The glittery KB logo sits perfectly against her right hipbone, catching the light when you turn. The sensation of the delicate fabric against unfamiliar anatomy sends a shiver through you—another novel experience in this borrowed form.

Slowly, you turn to examine the reflection from behind. Courtney's body is athletic and toned from years of dance—information that floats to the surface of her memories without effort. Her buttocks are perfectly rounded, the black thong disappearing between them in a way that accentuates their shape.

You run your hands—her hands—over the curve of her ass, marveling at how different it feels from both perspectives: the sensation of smooth skin beneath your fingertips, and simultaneously feeling those fingertips gliding across sensitive flesh. You squeeze experimentally, watching the imprint of fingers against pale skin in the mirror.

"So this is what guys see," you whisper, arching Courtney's back slightly to enhance the view. You position her body in various poses, examining every angle, every curve—a uniquely intimate exploration impossible in any other circumstance.

The thong hugs her form perfectly, clearly expensive and custom-made for Kappa Beta sisters. You hook a finger under one strap, pulling it slightly before releasing it to snap gently against her hip. The sting is minor but electric, another new sensation cataloged.

"Perfect trophy," you decide, admiring the way the letters stand out against her skin. You take a few more moments to explore Courtney's body through touch and sight, fascinated by the differences in sensation and proportion.