Flights Of Imagination Ch 01

(This is a work of fiction with all characters above the age of 18 )

Part 1. Singapore Sling.

I had never been abroad before, never even on a flight before, period. My first time in the air was on a bank training to Singapore, with a couple of days in Bangkok on the return leg. I was excited, but anxious, a little wistful that he wouldn't be coming with me as he had exams coming up. As the flight took off I closed my eyes, gripping my seat, fearful, till we were up aloft, flying for the first time.

After arriving at Singapore, we checked in at the hotel and I was allotted a room on the 18 floor. It had a beautiful view of the sea and was bigger than my home back in Bombay. I decided to clean up and and have a shower after the long flight, going into the bathroom to check it out. It was sheer luxury with a bathtub and a range of fancy toiletries. I divested myself of my clothes and almost jumped in surprise on viewing my reflection in the full length mirror.

As I viewed my self naked for the first time and struck a couple of poses that would be worthy of a centerfold, it was an exhilarating feeling. I was a little too self conscious of my looks, but viewing myself unclad felt sexy too. I started appreciating my curvy figure, my pert bosom, my fleshy navel, my shapely calves, my toned legs, ending at my thighs with my pussy veiled under a layer of soft downy hair. It was slightly erotic as well, my nipples stiffenned to points and I felt a tingling between my thighs as a wetness started seeping out of my pussy.

I ran the hot water in the tub, adding the scented bath bubbles, relaxing there after a long red eye flight. How I wished he was here, as I soaped my body, feeling incredibly lonely. I had never touched myself intimately before, and I was as good a girl as could be. But i just couldn't control myself, as my longing for release got too much.

As I lathered soap all over myself, my breasts were incredibly sensitive to my touch and so was my pussy. I could feel a nub at the top, which I learnt later was my clitoris standing out. A current of delight ran across my entire being as I scrubbed it with my soapy hands. I closed my eyes, imagining him running his hands over my body. I lay back enjoying these new sensations as my loins responded to my touch, eyes closed, moaning, as my fingers increased their pace, working up a rhythm.

I imagined his naked body next to mine, pushing his engorged penis into my welcoming womb despite my weak protestations, my fingers pushing in and out of my sticky depths. Suddenly my loins started vibrating, and my whole hand was enveloped in a gush of fluids issuing from within. I almost blacked out from the intense sensations, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

I felt alive, my whole body tingling with excitement. All the tiredness, stress and worry was gone, replaced with a new glow of confidence. It was the first time that I had pleasured myself thus and also the first time I had experienced what it was to orgasm.

I was brought up in a very sheltered and conservative milieu where sex was a bad word and any display of feelings frowned upon. Even falling in love wasn't something that was encouraged. Your parents were supposed to find a match for you, and generally you went along with whatever they thought was fit. But, even though I had bucked the trend fallen in love, my parents were understanding and supported me in my choice. Being financially independent was a great boon too.

I am sure my parents would be scandalized if they knew what I had just been upto. I had spent my entire life sleeping with my parents and hadn't noticed even a whiff of sexual undercurrent between them. Although love was present aplenty, there were no physical manifestations of the same. Indeed any physical display of affection was frowned upon in the entire Indian context. As a result I had grown up with the impression that having sexual thoughts or feelings of any type were bad and to be frowned upon, a sin. Despite this aversion, how India had become the second most populous nation in the world was one of the greatest mysteries of our age, given our inherent prudishness.

Even though I was feeling on top of the world after my first experience of masturbation, due to my conditioning, an element of guilt was nagging me, as if I had committed an unpardonable crime. It was very much akin to the feeling when I had my first period. Though it was me who was in pain, it felt that I had done something very bad that needed to be hidden, not talked about. As I attained puberty, developing breasts and hair sprouting in my groin and armpits, this societal guilt kept being piled on. With the result that a very important part of the psyche was being repressed.

The pleasure that I had felt when I climaxed in the tub was the release of all the repressed urges that I had been unconsciously harboring for years. I had finally attained my freedom, become a woman in the real sense of the word, though I didn't quite realize it back then.

After an evening get together and buffet dinner, I went back to my room for the night. After making a call back home, I decided to get a proper rest as the conference started tomorrow. But though the plush bed was very comfortable with soft pillows and a comforter, I just couldn't get any sleep. I tossed and turned, drank some water, pushed aside the covers and pulled them up again.

Was it the fact of never having slept alone before in my life, or being in a strange land or in a strange bed, or fear of the unknown or was it just jet lag, which I heard about but never experienced before? All these thoughts going through my mind at a rapid pace, vanquished whatever chance of sleep there was, and I was wide awake in the pitch black night, stars above and city lights below mirroring each other. I looked out with a longing, his face coming to mind, an ache of separation, which I couldn't bear anymore.

As a diversion, I switched on the television and as the pale blue reflection filled the room, flicked the channels on the remote. I had never seen porn before, even a slight indication of a love scene made me turn away embarrassed. Here the late night entertainment, was direct, in your face, completely hard core, nothing left to the imagination. Contrary to my good girl image, I was transfixed and imagined myself and him, transposed in the same scene.

My hands unconsciously began to mirror what was going on in the screen, on my body. Mercury rising, I felt a hot flush all over, throwing off the covers, first touching myself through my nightie and when it became an impediment divesting myself of it too. I was writhing as I pleasured myself all over, moaning and sighing as I felt a current of arousal course through my body and a wetness seep out of my cunt. My nipples were tender to the touch sticking out like points, as my fingers pushed in and out of my pussy, my thighs wide apart as I reached the edge of orgasm. As I flicked my clit, my hips bucked and a jet of sticky liquid shot out of me. I climaxed noisily and repeatedly, the bed damp with a sticky puddle of my cum. I felt drained as if just having run a marathon, chest heaving, breathing heavily. Spent, I felt my eyes droop, exhausted, tired. I put off the TV, and straddled a pillow between my legs, soon falling into a deep slumber, dreaming of him.

As the morning sun streamed in through the plate glass windows I woke up with a start. I was shocked to find myself completely nude, in a strange bed, with a musky aroma pervading the room. I looked around frantically fearing the worst, before the events of the previous night came flooding back into the realms of my memory. I turned a dark shade of red in embarrassment seeing the stains on the sheet, realizing the smell was of my own intimate fluids.

I suddenly looked at the clock, "Shit", the conference was slated to begin in less than half an hour's time. I had completely forgotten to set the alarm, jumping out of bed, getting ready quick in record time and making it to the conference room with just 5 minutes to go. Hell, I had no time for a bath and felt quite self-conscious as I could smell my own BO.

As the meeting got underway, I found myself bored with the slow pace of the proceedings, stifling a yawn. I was ravenous as I didn't have time to go for breakfast, especially after the exertion in the middle of the night, munching on the cookies and coffee kept at the table. I got to know all the other participants at the lunch buffet, like me new entrants to the bank from the countries in South East Asia. I felt myself slightly out of place looking at their smart clothes. My wardrobe was positively dated making me look a decade older than the rest. I resolved to remedy it at the earliest, visiting the mall next door in the evening.

After the conference concluded went with a couple of newly made acquaintances to the mall to shop for a new wardrobe. Unlike at home, was positively floored by the styles and the range on offer, buying a couple of smart tops, trousers and even a knee length skirt. This retail therapy not only lifted my spirits, but my confidence as well, making me look like a different person altogether, a fact that my colleagues noticed and readily attested to.

I blushed on hearing their effusive praise. I looked at myself in the mirror, and for the first time I felt attractive, sexy and confident, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist my charms. On the way out we passed by the lingerie section, and I made mental plans to go there alone later that week, to complete my makeover. We had our dinner in the food court adjoining the mall and returned back to the hotel.

I had a leisurely shower, feeling fresh and clean, washing off the sweat and other bodily fluids that had accumulated since the previous night, wearing the silken bathrobe provided by the hotel feeling particularly seductive as I practiced my come hither look in the mirror, showing plenty of thigh and a hint of cleavage. The sheets had been changed and I sprawled on the freshly made bed, relaxing feeling upbeat.

I wrote him a long letter pouring out my feelings, how much I was missing him and wished he were here. I sealed it with a kiss. But writing it made me horny again and I felt a familiar stirring down below.To distract myself from these thoughts, I began to use the body lotions provided by the hotel, as I felt I deserved to be pampered. I removed my nightgown massaging the cream, feeling it's cool moistness on my bare flesh, my mind drifted to thoughts of him, imagining his hands caressing me intimately.

As my hands drifted below my belly button, lathering the cream on my pudenda and inner thighs watching my reflection in the full length mirror, feeling his presence as my fingers slipped inside my snatch, moist in expectation of the nightly ingress. One hand drummed a beat down below, whilst the other squeezed my tender tits, alternating between them, my eyes shut in ecstasy. With a primal scream I collapsed backwards in the throes of an orgasm, fully spent.

The next evening, I returned to the mall, going straight to the lingerie section trying on some of the pieces of satin and lace, enjoying the feel on my skin, and feeling alluring as I viewed myself in the mirror. I purchased some silky negligees as well as some make up before returning to the hotel. I tried them on in the comfort of my room, putting on bright red lipstick as well, and felt, no way could he resist my fatal charms.

Lost in these thoughts, suddenly there was a knock at the door and whom do I see but him, with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I shrieked in surprise, embracing him as he came into the room. He in turn gazed deep into my eyes, making me melt in his arms, and kissed me on my upturned lips. My legs turned to jelly and I began to leak from below. One leg went up brushing his thigh as he gently removed the robe to reveal my sexy lingerie. I locked my legs around his waist as he staggered towards the bed.

I loosened his trousers, letting them fall to the floor almost ripping the shirt off him as we kissed each other hungrily. He undid my bra catch letting it fall to the floor, suckling on my upturned nipples like a famished child. Putting his hand in the waistband of my panties pulled them down, as I did his underwear as well. We enjoyed an unrestricted view of each other as he inserted his cock up my wet cunt. My slit welcomed him into my intimate folds, every thrust increasing the pleasure, as he emptied his seed into my deep recesses. My vaginal walls were milking him dry and meeting him with a flood of my own, as I blacked out from the waves of pleasure that engulfed me.

When I returned to consciousness, I found myself lying naked on the bed in a pool of my own cum, no sign of him around. I realized wistfully that it was just my overactive hormones playing tricks with me, but happy at least to be with him in my dreams. I enjoyed a warm shower and cuddled up with a pillow, letting my imagination soar on wings of pleasure.

For the next few nights I eagerly anticipated his arrival wearing a new pair of lingerie every night, just in case he showed up; but he never came, or even wrote. Meanwhile I became a master at masturbation, familiar with my intimate secrets and pleasure points, blossoming as a woman, more self assured, taking my love matters into my own hands. I imagined new pleasure scenarios for myself every night and was amazed at my sex drive as I put them to practice, often coming multiple times in the course of the night. I woke up horny every morning, viewing the extent of my deprivation on the sheets which had multiple love stains attesting to the potency of my passionate discharges. So much so that my thighs were sore due to the constant chafing and traffic and my walk turned into a waddle. I promised myself each time, that it would be the last, but like an addict couldn't control the sexual beast that I had unleashed.

I loved the city and it's modern vibe and spent my evenings shopping, and the weekends sightseeing. The course was boring as hell, but met some interesting people, making new friends too. One of them was a girl from Bangladesh, put up on the same floor. She was alone and we got along well together. She would come to my room or I to hers, talking about things, enjoying each others company. We slept together in the same room to mitigate my loneliness.

As we got familiar with each other finding much in common about traditions and family we confided in each other about our lives and loves. Like me, she had also gotten recently engaged, but unlike my platonic relationship, hers was much more physical. She was modern in outlook but wore the traditional headscarf. A little older than me, her fiance was a family friend and the marriage had been arranged by the parents for early next year.

She liked to dress up and though the outer garments had to confirm to traditions not showing any flesh, her choice of lingerie was bold even by western standards. She confided that they, as a couple had gone past the kissing stage even before the formal engagement, and now with the marriage date being set had explored each other intimately as well, going down, performing orally on each other, everything but penetrative sex.

I listened spellbound, hanging on to every word and salacious detail. I was a bit embarrassed but wished I was in her shoes. I probed her a bit more, asking her to teach me the basics as I hadn't even kissed before. She asked me if I was okay with a demo and I nodded demurely and we closed in on each other's lips. Never in my wildest imagination did I see myself kissing a girl, but that's what it was.

She was slightly taller than I was, lean and lithe. She smelt great, and as our lips met I closed my eyes experiencing the sensations, trying to mirror her actions. She started with tender caresses and then as the action heated up, was a lot more passionate. She was moving all the time, sucking, pressing, occasionally biting and surprising me by pushing her tongue inside my mouth seeking mine. I began to get aroused as her hand moved to my breast, circling it, stroking my nipple, through my robe, pinching it. As we broke off gasping for air, she asked me how the experience was, I could only nod shyly.

She then proceeded to divest herself of her nightie and helped me off with mine. I left my panty on having just got my period the previous day, but she was completely naked, open to my gaze. She had a dusky skin tone which complemented her features, and full breasts topped by dark brown tits. Her underarms and pussy were quite bare and smooth to the touch as she glided my hand all across her body, moaning when I reached her tits or her cunt. She asked me if she could kiss my breasts fascinated by my dark red nipples. I asked her to go ahead, saying I would tell her if I was uncomfortable, as they were a bit more sensitive due to my periods.

She moved in first licking them, so that my teats started rising up and then slowly kissing them sucking them till I was shivering in delight. She asked me to do the same to her, and I complied latching on to a breast for the first time since I had been weaned off as a child. Her head thrown back, emitting soft sighs as my lips sucked at her tits, asking for an occasional bite as she pushed her breasts into my face. I took a break, licking her smooth underarms tasting her salty sweat. I loved the smooth feeling and resolved to go bare too.

She was getting quite wet down there as well, and asked me whether I wanted to perform cunnilingus on her. I deferred as I wasn't quite comfortable putting my mouth near an orifice from which I peed; instead asked her to teach me how to masturbate. She took my hand in hers and placed it over her slit. It was as smooth and hairless as her armpits, but was glistening with lubrication seeping out of her. She pushed back the outer lips and gave me a detailed anatomical lesson with emphasis on the pleasure points of the clitoris and the various spots deep within that I could use to maximize my pleasure and prolong my orgasm.

She guided my hand, all the while keeping up a running commentary as I explored her deep tissues. I could feel her moist warm vaginal walls pulsing as my fingers hit the right spots making her moan and bite her lips as she opened up like a flower in bloom. She latched onto my breasts as I grew more confident and my ministrations quicker. First with a single finger, then two and now three, she was now bucking her hips like a mare at a rodeo, and my hand was covered in her sticky goo. She came with a loud scream, as she fell backward on her bed, her urges satisfied, spent.

She asked me if I wanted to taste her. Before I could fathom what she meant, she took my wet fingers in her mouth, sucking them dry as if stimulating fellatio. She then moved in to kiss me and I tasted her musky cream as our tongues intertwined once more. She slept in the raw spooning me from behind, me with just a panty covering my privates as I was menstruating. Often she fondled my breasts, her leg over my thigh, humping me, as she stimulated my erogenous zones, stroking my earlobes, cheek and neck; a feeling of intimacy that I loved.

In the morning she would wake me up with a good morning kiss on the lips. We would bathe together enjoying each other's company; in the bathtub when we were in the mood, otherwise in the shower, she stroking my pubic hair trying to wash off the remnants of my flow. She wanted to taste me, but I forbade it as I was still bleeding. She would gently soap me over, eliciting moans, as my body would respond to her touch. And pat me dry with a towel, bending to inhale my scent as we got ready for the conference. We were usually running late, literally wolfing down breakfast, ravenous after our exertions to get there on time.