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That’s just how brilliant people are.
We still escort her to class, and people seem to know who we are. At first, there were some sidelong glances. People want to know what is up with Lindy and her harem of jock boyfriends. Let them wonder. It’s none of their business.
But strangely, there haven’t been any more pictures. Spencer assured me that Seattle was not responsible. Well, if she wasn’t responsible, why did the BUST pictures suddenly stop when Seattle left? It doesn’t make any sense.
We are nearing the end of the semester, and I catch Spencer squinting at me every once in a while. Whenever he starts looking at course descriptions for his next semester, he seems to remember that I am a senior. He wants to know if I’m going to graduate secretly or something.
I’ve decided to take it easy next year. I can spend the extra semester here and graduate with these guys. I might even take another art elective. But if he wants to know for sure, he’s going to have to ask me directly. I am going to make them say the words.
On our way back from sculpture class, Lindy and I see Spencer and Trevor across the quad. She raises her arm over her head and waves, jiggling her fine, firm tits in that tight, thin tank top she wore today.
As soon as they see her they begin trotting over, as loyal as puppies.
That is just how we are now. We have all bonded like littermates.
Trevor kisses the top of her head and squeezes her from behind while Spencer dips his head down to kiss her lips. She hums with delight. My balls clench in response. I love it when she makes that sound.
“Hey, aren’t you guys supposed to be in class?” she asks, batting her eyes.
“Just finished,” Trevor says. “What are you guys doing?”
“Just heading back for lunch,” I reply, reaching down to take her hand.
“Oh, can we go by my dorm room? I need to get my mail,” she suggests, shading her eyes as she squints up at me.
Now that the weather is getting hot again, everybody has a good tan. Lindy has freckles sprinkled across her nose and upper cheeks. It’s so cute.
“We should talk about that,” Spencer observes.
Lindy pivots and begins walking toward her dorm so that Spencer can’t see her roll her eyes. He still insists on bossing everyone around, but we all know who is really in charge now.
“You want to talk about my mail?” she smirks.
“No, I want to talk about your dorm room,” he answers.
Trevor catches my eye. I knew this was coming, just not today. He and I drop back a couple paces and let Spencer and Lindy walk ahead.
“Looking for a change of scenery?”
“Actually, I thought you might be,” he grins, nudging up close to her as they walk.
“I’m quite happy where I am, thank you,” she quips.
“So are we,” he answers, his voice becoming more serious. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
When she gets to the dorm entrance, she flips around to face us, rubbing her posterior against the security panel on the door to unlock it. Her ID must be in her back pocket, but watching her rub those juicy buttocks against the door is highly arousing.
“So, what are you saying?” she asks as we all walk through the entryway.
She ducks into the mail area and returns immediately with a handful of envelopes that she starts flipping through. She wrinkles her nose at a couple of university pieces, and tucks the junk mail between her last two fingers.
When we all crowd into the elevator, she makes sure to wedge herself between us.
“This is cozy,” she remarks sweetly.
“So we wanted to talk to you about your dorm room,” Spencer continues doggedly.
The elevator doors slide open.
