Clair was a walking contradiction. She prided herself on her virginity, and flaunted her sexuality in the face of everyone at uni.
When Megan knew her in high school, there was no chance that she would have worn those denim shorts that left no room for panties, but something happened over the break between school ending and university starting, and now she stood an absolute vision of a tease.
A tease enough to make anyone question themselves.
Megan looked at her thin, smooth legs that lead to frayed threads at the bottom of her tiny jean shorts. Not a blemish on them. Milky innocence leading all the way into a crease only just covered by thin blue strands of cotton.
Megan was taken back to those awkward times in the locker rooms at school and seeing her then timid demeanour, awkwardly trying to hide her body away from even her, her closest friend. Megan sometimes snuck a glimpse of her pussy, and still to this day vividly remembers actually blushing when she saw her once, bending over to get something from her bag and inadvertently presenting the most glorious sight of her pert, tight little arsehole between flat white cheeks.
Megan was proud of my own body, but it was nothing against the childlike qualities of Clair's. She could be thirty, or she could be thirteen. In reality she was 20, just a year older than Megan. And not for the first time, as she bounded towards Megan in the courtyard, Megan wondered what she tasted like.
Dreams of Clair's pussy only momentarily pushing aside the excitement of yesterday's newfound thrills. Then a combination of the two started to emerge, wondering what her tight little arsehole, and its contents would taste like.
Megan was clearly spent now. She had lost the last hesitations in her mind, and was already addicted to her next taste of scat.
"You look different today," Clair announced with a smile in her voice.
"What do you mean?" Megan said, trying to resist the subject matter bounding through her brain, now becoming scared that Clair could sense something.
"I don't know. Just more confident or something." Clair asserted.
She wasn't wrong. But Megan was glad she had no idea why.
As was the usual Clair handed Megan her phone, there was certainly no room for it in her little jean shorts. Then she slung her backpack off her shoulders and onto the ground in front her. As she leant forward, the front of her shirt pulled forward just enough to reveal her nipples. Of course Megan had seen them before, but here and now they seemed to be there just to drive her wild.
The only thought that seemed to break Megan's train from her tiny pink nipples was the question of what it must look like to see her bend over in those shorts. Certainly, they must reveal something. Megan looked around and it didn't look like anyone else had noticed Clair's presented arse.
Clair had noticed Megan though. When Megan looked back down at her she said with a masterful combination of playfulness and sternness, "Let them look. They know they will never have it."
***
The Tuesday Media and Society lecture was the busiest lecture at the uni. If you weren't at this lecture, then you had to be at uni on a Friday afternoon to catch the other one. As a result, you wanted to be here early to get a seat. Clair and Megan generally were, and would sit somewhere towards the front in the centre, both paying particular attention to the lecturer for the same reason that almost all the girls and some of the boys were captivated by him.
There was a sauce about him, he seemed to encapsulate both youth and wisdom within a toned, middle aged body. He could have been any of their dad's age, but instead almost anyone in the hall looked upon him with lust and wonderment. Megan looked upon him now imagining something else, something new.
What it would be to have his tongue dancing around and inside her sphincter, lapping up and swallowing her poop while he crouched in front of her at her favourite toilet stall, where the graffiti had inspired Megan to venture into a new, previously uncharted, forbidden pleasure.
He was speaking about the different models of communication. "Transactive and linear communication" were written neatly across the top of Clair's page above about a third of a page of notes. She always kept meticulously neat and organised notes. It was something she kept from her bookishness at high school, but here seemed out of place against her new, provocative look.
Megan however, had not managed a single letter in her notebook. Instead the thought of a tongue rolling around her messy arsehole was consuming her.
"After this lecture, you're going to tell me what is distracting you so much today." Clair whispered, breaking Megan away from her fantasy.
"Shit!" Though Megan. "I must have been that obvious."
