We'd been watching some chick flick. I couldn't tell you the name of it: something with Sandra Bullock, though the probably doesn't narrow it down much. Chick flicks makes girls feel all cuddly, which is the only reason for them to exist.
My buddy Dean and I had been going out with a couple of roommates, Carrie and Beth, since the beginning of our sophomore year. And now here were on a nasty January night, me and Carrie snuggling in one oversized beanbag, and Dean and Beth in another (their third dorm-mate, Amy, was away on a ski weekend), watching Sandra Bullock sorting out her love life. Or at least the girls were watching: I was more interested in moving my hand onto Carrie's breast or her upper thigh as often as possible in the very dim light (and across the room I was sure Dean and Beth were doing the same).
Hey, it's not as if the girls minded: before we came over they'd cranked up the thermostat so they could wear t-shirts and shorts (Carrie wasn't wearing a bra; and as far as I could tell without staring, neither was Beth).
"Stop it," Carrie said, not at all meaning it, as I kissed her neck. We both knew that gets her hot. I was finding it very difficult to wait for the movie to end so we could go into Carrie's room and... you know.
And then the power went out: lights, television, everything. Not unheard-of during January snowstorms, of course.
This was total darkness: there wasn't even any light coming in from outside, because all the streetlights were out, and the storm was covering the moon and stars.
"The good news is," Carrie said, "I'm pretty sure Sandra gets the guy in the end."
"Well, so everything's okay then," I said.
"Guys," Beth said, "the bad news is, if the power's out, so's the heat, which means it's gonna get really cold in here really quickly."
"I think I can make it to the linen closet for the heavy blankets without killing myself," Carrie said. "But Beth, can you come with me so I don't kill myself if I trip over something?"
They left the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, Dean said in a loud whisper, "Alan, speaking of that..."
"Speaking of what?"
"Do you want to try something that'll get us killed if the girls ever find out?"
"Um..."
"Switch places with me."
It wasn't just the matter of the girls killing us if they found out: we were sort of serious about Carrie and Beth, and I wasn't sure how I felt about anybody, even my best friend, cuddling with my girlfriend.
Still, it would be kind of exciting, and at age 19 that was a good enough reason to try almost anything, and hopefully the girls would never know. And honestly, I planned to be with Carrie for the foreseeable future, and this might be my only chance to cuddle (or maybe make out with) another girl.
"Okay," I said, "but I swear to God, if the girls ever find out, I'll kill you before they get the chance to do it first."
"Deal," Dean said. We both got up and, slowly, managed somehow to make it to one another's beanbags.
We were barely settled in when the girls came back (though if we hadn't heard their footsteps on the hardwood floor, we'd never have known -- it was that dark).
Beth climbed onto the beanbag next to me, and threw the blanket over us. "Shhh," she said softly, and wrapped my arms around her, resting my hands on her breasts. I was right: no bra.
This was already getting more serious than we'd planned.
I was kind of conflicted: was I worried that Dean was doing the same thing to Carrie across the room, or hoping that he was so I wouldn't have to feel so guilty about it?
Guilty or not, I closed my fingers around her nipples and pinched them lightly. She responded by turning her head toward mine and kissing me, and then stroking my cock through my jeans.
I wondered how far she'd go with "Dean" while Carrie and "I" were in the same room. It was pitch dark, of course, and we were completely under the blanket, so maybe she thought it would only be mildly embarrassing if the lights suddenly came on.
