Unveiling Ch 02

After my sexual awakening, my life became one of contradictions. I gathered a wardrobe of identical looking burqas, but each one fulfilled a different kinky niche. I had some made of an imperceptibly finer material that showed off my body with the sun behind me, one that had Velcro panels that could be removed to expose my tits, ass and pussy, I even had one that had a single thread holding the whole thing together that could be pulled out or attached to an egg timer for a timed risk.

I looked at my cupboard and saw myself like a comic book character, picking which costume would best slay the villains of boredom and piety.

The other contradiction was that the more I indulged in my animalistic fantasies at the mosque, the more devout I looked. I was at every Khutbah, and also found myself attending other community events in order to try out whatever perverted idea I had just had.

Before long I had the reputation of a diligent and respectable young lady and was even put in charge of a young Muslim reading group that ran Tuesday night.

One such night I was overseeing the group, that night I had opted for the burqa that could fall apart on a timer. I never felt great doing erotic things in front of the young reading group but I figured I could make the walk home more interesting. At least that was the plan, I find my spontaneous adventures far more satisfying and that night an opportunity presented itself.

The Imam walked into the room looking more flustered than usual. He spent a good half hour fidgeting and looking at his phone before I was able to quietly ask him what was wrong.

"Nothing is wrong" he replied barely looking up from his phone. I gave him a look of disbelief so strong it somehow permeated the burqa and got through to him. "Fine, Allah is really testing me with this one. The Muslim council of London are holding their first meeting tonight to discuss the youth conference. I was invited to be a guest speaker as our mosque has the largest active youth group. But ironically I can't make it as I am here looking after the youth group." I gave a slight chuckle at the prospect ahead of me which the Imam clocked with a curious look.

"Maybe there is something else to be read into here. Every week I oversee the study group and every night I help you lock up afterwards. You know I'm competent. I think it would be fitting that in order to speak on youth issues, you have to trust a young person with the mosque." I replied. I was thinking to myself that this was a long shot, a reckless gambit, but to my surprise his face turned from scepticism to approval. He pried the keys to the outside doors and the electronic fob for the inside doors off his car keys, leaving instructions to post them through the letterbox at his house nearby, before rushing out.

I spent the rest of the study session staring into mid air, my mind swirling with ideas. Eventually the last student left and the holy sanctum was exclusively mine for desecration. The first thing I did was walk the grounds, double checking everyone had left, next I logged into the security cameras and turned off recording, finally, I went to the imam's office at the back to prepare.

I started by removing my Burqa, freeing my naked body from it's confines, running my hands up and down my body at the thought of my deviancy being on show where a man tries to spread his holy message. Next I took the keys and fob and dropped them out of the window.

My goosebumps had goosebumps at the thought of what was ahead of me. The internal doors of the mosque were one-way doors on a fob system, without a fob I could leave but I could not get back in. The moment I walked out of the Imam's office, the door would lock and I would have to walk through the mosque, out the front door and around to the side entrance to get to the back garden where I had thrown the keys, each door I walked though would provide another barrier between me and my clothes. Not only that but once I had the fob I would still have to walk back naked.

My breathing quickened as I opened the door, looking out into the dark corridor that would begin my naked tour of the mosque. I took one step clear of the office and let go, closing my eyes and freezing in place for the seeming eternity before I heard the door click closed behind me. I jiggled the door handle and confirmed I was not getting back in without a fob.

As I slowly walked the empty corridors of the mosque, I had to keep repeating to myself not to touch myself yet. I wanted to savour this, to swim in the risk I had exposed myself to and only at the height of the experience, bring myself crashing down with an orgasm. My rock hard nipples and dripping pussy a testament to the difficulty of my restraint.

The back offices of the mosque were not large, but I still moaned with delight every time another door locked behind me. It wasn't long before I was staring at the last lockable door, the one between the back room areas and the main prayer hall. I burst open the door and stood naked on the very stage that the imam would read prayers from while we all listened and prostrated towards mecca. My imagination ran away with the idea of the whole congregation staring at my naked body, their disgust and condemnation only fuelling my bodies pure animalistic list. My fingers were deep in my pussy before I knew it, but I held myself back, I decided keeping myself on a sizzle would be better.

I spent some time wandering the public areas of the mosque, reliving my Khutbah routine, thrilled that for once my outside appearance matched how I felt every Friday. Body and soul exposed. Although I had to admit I was also stalling a little, my next move was to walk through the reception area and into the front car park of the mosque, the one totally visible from the street.

Heart beating through my chest, I stepped into the reception. I could see where the darkened car park gave way to the streetlights beyond, the flakes of rain glinting in the lights before vanishing into the darkness beyond. I crouched behind the welcome desk as a car drove past, bringing me face to face with the CCTV monitors, not recording but still displaying my shivering naked body on-screen. I took a few deep breaths and stepped out of the front door.

The rain hit me like bullets from a machine gun, I could feel every inch of my shivering skin becoming wet and cold, my shaking form humbled by my lustful hubris in the face of nature. I began to run, across the unlit car park to the side entrance of the mosque, as I turned down the alleyway I heard a car pass by and wondered if the driver had got a good enough look at my bottom.

Once by the side entrance I was once again out of the public eye, I slowed my pace opting for a sultry walk, wiggling my hips for my imaginary audience. Hard concrete gave way to soft grass as I entered the garden, in the dark and wet it took me a while to find the keys but it wasn't long before I held them in my hand, staring at the physical manifestation of my adventure's halfway point.

Grasping the keys in my hands I slowly walked back to the car park and waited in the shadows for my moment, I was eager to get back to the prayer hall and pleasure my soaking degraded body. I walked across the car park and back into the mosque without incident.

As I approached the prayer hall I reflected on what I had done so far. I had firmly supplanted my view of the mosque, from the location of my repression to the site where I stamped my naked body on the religious community. The problem was it still didn't feel risky enough, yes I was in a place where people usually were but that wasn't the same, apart from the brief moment in the car park there was no chance of being seen. I walked slowly back towards the office, my mind racing with ideas.

I eventually settled on a course of action. I was going to do all the locking up activities like a diligent young lady, but I was going to do them naked like a craven whore. I made a list of everything I usually did to clean up and I resolved I wouldn't put my burqa back on until the list was completed.

By the time I had cleaned the study room, done the washing up and hoovered the mosque it had already gotten quite late and I was boiling with frustration. There was only one task left to do, take the bins to the roadside dumpsters. I grabbed the bags out of the bins and headed for the front door.

Once again I looked out over the car park, last time I was out there I was just sneaking around the side, but this time I needed to go to the dumpsters, these were kept on the far end next to the street. On top of that, the rain was now hammering down, I was going to be soaked in more ways than one.

My bare feet slowly lowered themselves on to the wet concrete. I couldn't crouch low with the bags so had to walk upright and confident out of the front doors. I immediately felt the rain covering my body in a shivering, shimmering layer of cold, my hair clung to my head and shoulders, I ventured forward.

My heart beat harder and faster as I got closer to the road, it was late but not so late as the guarantee my chores would be without an audience. I leaned around the gate and peeked out into the road. No sooner had my head cleared the gatepost, then a man sprinted past me, hood over his head, struggling to get out of the rain. He was three steps past me before he realised what he had just seen. I stood there frozen as he looked me up and down, before going back to running to get out of the rain.

I collapsed against the bins and started fingering myself right then and there. A man had seen me, he had seen all my flesh, observed my corrupted nature. And now I sat, surrounded by the other trash, discarded from the mosque and plunging my hand in and out of my pussy, screaming with orgasmic delight as the thunder rolled around me.

When I returned to the mosque, I was naked drenched and satisfied.

As I returned to my Burqa, my wet skin caused the fabric to cling to my body, defeating its purpose of being loose clothing. I looked at the egg timer mechanism wondering if I wanted to keep the adventure going or not, a hand between my legs confirming I was still eager for more.

I twisted the timer and heard the familiar clicking, in 20 minutes the timer would go off, winding in the thread holding together my Burqa and reducing my only covering to a pile of rags. 20 minutes would usually be more than enough time for me to make it home, but tonight I had to go a bit out of the way to drop the keys off at the imams house, meaning it would be close.

I left the mosque and walked at a moderate pace, my heartbeat quickening to match the ticking I could sometimes hear, the rain was now dying down but a fresh coat of water made the burqa especially clingy to my naked body. It wasn't long before I reached the imam's house, I quickly shoved the keys through the letterbox and turned to continue my journey. As I turned around the imam was stood behind me, just getting back from his meeting.

"Just the person I wanted to see!" he announced to my absolute dread. "That meeting was so great and I want to thank you for helping me so I could go."

I desperately hoped he would leave it at that, but he was clearly in the mood for a long conversation, something I didn't have time for. He began to give a blow by blow account of the meeting while I shuffled on my feet.

"...so then I pointed out that their keynote speaker for this supposed youth event was in his 50s. They asked me if I had any better ideas and suddenly I did. How would you like to deliver the keynote speech at the Muslim youth conference in a couple of weeks time?" Suddenly the time pressure was forgotten, he wanted me to get on a stage in front of an audience wearing my burqa, my perverted mind immediately went crazy with ideas. I heartily accepted, but this meant he had to go into more details and the talking continued.

Part way through his precise explanation of where the venue was I heard the sound I was dreading, the egg timer going off, winding in the thread as I felt my clothes begin to loosen.

"What's that sound?" He asked. It was all I could think of to start walking and yell over my shoulder.

"That's my phone, I need to be home now." I was clutching the fabric to my body, aware that the wet clinging of rainwater was probably the only reason I wasn't flashing the Imam right now. I practically sprinted round the corner and began walking home, every step loosening another part of my rapidly de-clinging and disintegrating outfit. To my annoyance the rain began to pick up again.

The rain got heavier and heavier as I walked and so did the fabric of my burqa, I was two streets from my house when the lower panel fell off my body and into a puddle. I willed myself to keep walking, knowing that the whole lower half of my body was now on display. It was only a few more steps before both sleeves fluttered to the ground, leaving me with a baggy tank top and a veil.

I turned the corner onto the road I live on and a car drove past, honking its horn in acknowledgement of my exposed pussy. I jumped with shock and in the commotion the top panel separated into three and fell, all that was left now was the veil covering my head. I bent over and pulled the sodden fabric off the ground, wrapping it around my body for a semblance of modesty. It barely covered my exposed breasts and even so it clung so tightly and my nipples were so hard there was no illusion of modesty. I began to run.

Two more cars passed and caught me effectively naked before I got to the entrance of my house. I whipped out my keys and barged through the front door, not caring whether my parents would see me or not. As luck would have it they were asleep. I immediately went to my room, to relieve my tension with the largest dildo in my collection, but also to plan for the day of the conference.

...

I stood at the train station looking at the arrivals board waiting for my train, filled with hope and trepidation. As usual I was wearing nothing under my burqa, but this burqa was the most advanced one to date, I had had weeks to prepare a whole day of unwholesome fun on the day of the conference and now I was facing my first step, genuinely proud of my ingenuity.

The central line train pulled into the station, and I slowly and carefully walked into it. I had to walk slowly as under my burqa I was wearing the highest heels I could find, to ensure my ass stuck out as much as possible, to compliment this I had also wrapped some rope tight around my breasts to ensure that they bulged forward as much as my ass stuck out backward, with an extra kick of sensitivity to boot. As I got onto the train I stood right in the middle of the area in front of the doors, I reached up and held on to the hand bars above my head.

The first adventure of the day was designed to get me ravenous with passion before I got there, I only had one train to take but it was a central line train from West London all the way to Stratford in the east. Not only was this a long journey, but when it goes through central London the train becomes packed with commuters, personal space becomes a memory. With my hands up, I was able to click into place two zip ties, one on each wrist around the bar, the sleeves on my burqa were now attached to the handhold bar.

The zip ties were held in place with threads attached to a motor. I spent forever on YouTube videos to figure out how to trigger a motor with the GPS on my smartphone but eventually it paid off. Until I reached Stratford, I was stuck on a soon to be packed train, with my arms above my head and my breasts and ass forced to stick out from my body. There was a way out in case of emergency, everything was attached to the burqa not me, so if I really needed to I could run away, but I would have to leave my burqa behind.

The journey started out quietly, with enough seats to accommodate everyone I was left to drink in the glances of the unknowing, dwelling on my strange decision to stand with no understanding of the perversion behind it, my mind swimming in what was to come. The train pulled into Shepherds Bush and I saw the queues of commuters waiting to get on the train, my body tingling at the prospect.

At Shepherds Bush it got crowded, but not packed. The standing room was full but people still managed to navigate around me and give me a bit of space. I eyed up the commuters surrounding me knowing that as we started pulling into more stations, not only would people be pressed against me, but the jostling for people to make way for those getting off would certainly lead to some interesting results.

The next stop was a small one, only a couple of people got on, but the space around me got tighter and one person brushed past my ass in a way that made me shiver with anticipation. The next station after that was an interchange, and I knew that meant we were about to become packed. As the train doors opened at Notting Hill Gate, the flood of people rammed in, bodies bumped and jostled me, I felt errant legs brushing against by ass, arms roughly barging my breasts. Once the rush had finished and the doors closed, there were three or four people pressed against my body, unaware they were taking part in my perverted sexual fantasy. I glanced around to get a look at my unwitting accomplices, a couple of suited men, a younger man in a shirt and jeans, and woman in a work blouse all found themselves groping and probing me as the train bumped its way deeper into London.

A couple of stations later there had been some turnaround, but I had noticed that every time during the bustle and movement, one of the suited businessmen tended to press closer to me. At first I thought my horny brain was playing tricks on me but as the train pulled into Oxford Circus and we momentarily had some space, I still felt both his legs against my ass. As the train once again loaded up with people and began to move, I felt a gasp of arousal slip out of my mouth as a hand grabbed my ass, stroking my curves in between occasional strong squeezes. The businessman had gone from accidental groper to an active molestor.

At the next station the shuffle ended with a short woman in a formal blouse standing on the other side of me, I mainly noticed that as she was too small to reach the hand holds, she was just stood next to me, head at breast height, no support, an accident waiting to happen. Meanwhile the businessman was getting more brave, his hands probing deeper between my cheeks, confident that the thick crowd made anything below shoulder height invisible. The train lurched to the right and for the first time I felt the short lady bury her face into my breasts, apologising profusely for the moment of bliss.

During the apologies, the businessman had eased off, but once he realised he was still safe from discovery, I felt his hands back on me. There was another sensation down there that at first I couldn't put my finger on, but it didn't take long for me to realise what was happening, the hem of my burqa was slowly rising upwards, the businessman was lifting up my dress. The train lurched again, worse this time, the chest high woman once again piling into my tied and punished tits, lightly motorboating them as her hands grasped for something to help her up. This did not slow down the businessman.

It was not long before I felt what had become inevitable, a bare hand on my bare bottom, probing deep, rubbing an errant finger around my asshole and then, drawn by it's moistness, venturing between my legs to rub my pussy. He relented a bit as we pulled into the next station, but nobody got off and even more people got on, the short lady in front of me now practically nestled between my breasts. As soon as the door was closed his hands began again, now actually starting to probe inside of me.