Note: If you find the explicit description of cunnilingus and analingus offensive, please refrain from any interests in this story as future chapters will denote these acts.
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Chapter 1
The bright and bulky clouds looked magnificent in the foreground of the clear blue sky; they looked like incandescent cotton balls adorning the picturesque sea of blue. Natasha had always found their sight soothing and therapeutic. She had learned a long time ago that focusing on them helped ease the anxiety she felt when flying.
She hated planes; they terrified her. She had seen too many plane crashes in the news, at least too many for her own good. God forbid she would ever have to suffer such a violent death. It was one of her creepiest nightmares. Every time she walked down that narrow jet-way, her palms would sweat and her vision would become blurry.
'I hate having to travel this way. Why can't I take a bus?' she thought. The smell of burnt rubber and coffee would get her every time; it revolted her. It signified the possibility of a journey with no return-a chance of losing her precious life.
Today, gazing at the clouds through the very small window, the translucent mirror reflected the conflict in her green eyes. Their beauty was immeasurable, and their expressiveness was a transparent portal to the truth in her soul. Even on the pale and blurry reflection, the emerald eyes told the story of her agony and excitement.
Something was troubling Natasha; it had her on the edge of her seat, nervous and feeling unstable. It wasn't the fact that she was about to start a new life as a freshman at the University of Alabama, and it wasn't the fact that she was sitting in an airplane, 35,000 feet up in the air.
This was much bigger than that. It was the realization of an odd, unmatched feeling-a sensation creeping up on her slowly, yet powerfully, almost in a mystical manner. It was so strong that it managed to obscure every other emotion, fear, and distress in her life; it was so mighty that it promised to change her 18 naive years of life for good.
Now, on her way to a brand new beginning as a college student, it was more intense than ever; it had her trembling and nervously looking around. In fact, it had her constantly looking back at seat 19C.
'Natasha, control yourself!' she scolded her curiosity and imprudence. It was becoming impossible to stay inconspicuous, especially when she was being driven by such an uncontrollable force.
'Gosh, is she aware of what she's doing?' Natasha thought to herself nervously. It was so clear, so beautiful, yet just a dream-a mere desire, an unattainable fantasy-relentlessly teasing her, testing her resolve.
As she carefully looked back once again, a faint gasp escaped her lips. The blonde girl had unconsciously spread her thighs a bit more, giving Natasha an unobstructed view of her black panties. Feelings of guilt and remorse flooded her heart as she felt her mouth water from her lascivious ogling. 'Thou shall not harbor impure thoughts,' she remembered her mother's words, loud and clear in her head.
But she couldn't help entertaining these lascivious thoughts. They seemed to occupy her mind constantly-torturing her, driving her insane, making her wonder things, sinful things, things inappropriate for a decent and religious girl.
'Natasha you can do it. Liberate yourself or you shall be condemned to....'
Her thought was suddenly interrupted when she heard giggling coming from behind her. Turning again, this time to inspect the commotion, she noticed that the blonde girl was avidly playing and joking around with her friends. Her jacket had the emblem of the University of Alabama, accompanied by the words 'Crimson Tide' emblazoned in red. By the uniform she and her friends were wearing, it was obvious they were part of a cheerleading squad.
As the blonde girl playfully shuffled around in her seat, she unconsciously spread her legs further, placing her right knee against the armrest. The result was an overt display, which had Natasha once again in the balance between thoughts of lust and pleas for redemption.
'Gawd, how beautiful....' The view of an exposed crotch framed by creamy thighs was so poetic, and disturbingly alluring. It meant so much to her, but she didn't know why. Possibly it was the promise of the unknown, of the prohibited; maybe it was the answer to a reckless desire, a passion that was slowly taking over her life.
As she contemplated the black panties, she wondered what
mysteries
lay behind them, what
perplexities
rested in its confinements - perhaps a whole new world to discover, unimaginable conquests. Maybe she'd find the essence of happiness, the universe of never - ending joy that she knew existed somewhere. She could only imagine what magical perfume permeated the black garment, what enchanting and forbidden musk caressed it. 'It must smell like
roses
down there,' she thought to herself as she dreamed of the possibilities.
Yet, it seemed so distant, so far away - only helpless wonderings that fueled her curiosity, mere hopes and expectations in her inquisitive mind.
'Goodness, Mom, please forgive me, but I just can't help these feelings,' she thought. And as the guilt hit her, she realized a small drop of saliva was trickling down the side of her mouth-she had been drooling. Quickly refocusing, she noticed that the giggling and chuckling had stopped; she had been deeply hypnotized in her reveries.
With a great effort, she managed to raise her gaze from the tantalizing
crotch
, and as she looked up at the girl, she was met by penetrating blue eyes. Natasha's heart pounded in her chest, and she let out a loud gasp, "Haaa...."
The girl was staring back at her, blatantly displaying her unconcealed crotch. She had a faint grin on her face, an insidious smile. She gazed at Natasha with defiant and spellbinding eyes. Carefully looking at the uniformed girl sleeping next to her, she made sure it was safe-a quick and mischievous glance. Then, gazing back at Natasha, she spread her sleek thighs a bit further, and pushed her crotch slightly forward.
Natasha quickly turned around; she could feel her heart hammering in her chest; she was horrified, thinking 'Oh gawd...Oh gawd...Oh gawd...she saw me...Oh gawd!'
Her immodest voyeurism had been caught red-handed; such an infringement was totally inadequate, and even scandalous by the moral standards she lived by. Yet, the inadequacy and vulgarity had her shivering with excitement. She couldn't control her wild impulses; the depravity of their nature had been enslaving her for a couple of years now.
Living in an extremely pious community had proven despairing and hopeless; especially in the modern world driven by media. She would spend hours watching the glimmering box, ignoring the prophetic warnings from her puritan mother: "Natasha, that thing is evil."
She would search, lurk, linger just enough to catch that magical moment, that incantatory fraction of time that seemed to warm her entire body, to set her blood aflame; it always brought a smile to her face, that extra-strong heartbeat, the butterflies in her stomach. It was her window to the outside world, her window to the real and unknown. But most of all, it was an escape for her imagination, a voyage that brought her face-to-face with the
fantasy
that was changing her life, the essence that was taking over her being.
She would tremble every time she stumbled upon a commercial displaying one of those girls, those pretty girls in shorts or in revealing skirts. At times she wished for magical powers so she could put her fingers through the television, just a quick caress of the tantalizing flesh. 'It must feel like the finest silk,' she would think.
Yet, her most enchanting moments came with the propaganda that her mother abhorred the most-the women's underwear commercial seemed to totally bring out the preacher in the elderly lady. "Such an indecency should be condemned. The body is a sacred temple; those girls should be punished for exposing their flesh!'
But Natasha always silently disagreed with her mother. In her innocent mind, she wished that every commercial were just as gracefully revealing. There was something about their bodies that attracted her immensely-maybe because they looked so tender and fragile, almost like her character; or perhaps it was because they seemed to make her own body glow with that special warmth.
Natasha had created her own little world of fantasy in which her imagination had become an escape from the world that immediately surrounded her. In an all-girl school, she spent tons of hours sitting in the playground, morbidly scanning the landscape; searching for beautiful candidates to fuel her imagination.
'Hmm, Sophia's are probably baby blue....' She would spend her lunchtime trying to imagine what color panties her schoolmates were wearing. It was her special naughty game, her escape from the barriers of a cast and strict community. She had engaged in the game for so long that it ceased to amuse her; now it no longer sufficed, her imagination could only go so far. That is when she started feeling the need to take the plunge and find out if it all was real.
She would then purposely drop a pen or a book while sitting in the classroom. Pretending to pick it up, she would slowly scour the perimeter-ogling, looking, searching for distracted open legs, just a hint of girl's underwear. Yet, luck always seemed to avoid her. Too often she ended up simply thinking, 'Gosh, I hate those long skirts.'
She felt trapped and frustrated. She would dream of the glorious moment and think about it everyday. But persistence proved mightier than the luck that seemed to so many times elude her; and such a relentless spirit brought her the merited result. One day Patricia's crotch looked so alive that she thought it would talk to her and somehow communicate a sweet message.
How it all came to happen was completely beyond her. Lying on the floor in detention after class, she couldn't help but feel angry with herself for the slight miscalculation. Tardiness was severely punished at school, and she was suffering the consequences. Her classmate Patricia had suffered the same fate, and so they decided to lay side by side, reading books and chatting to kill time for the excruciating extra hour. When Natasha heard her friend's first little snore, she knew her chance had finally come. With Patricia's knee bent and her back flat on the ground, it was Natasha's moment of truth-a time to explore!
Shaking with nerves, she uncovered the sleeping beauty's treasure with a quick swinging motion of the skirt, bringing the hem to the girl's hips. Searching for any signs of movement, she confirmed that her classmate was positively asleep.
Carefully she brought her face to within a hand's length of the girl's crotch. She thought there was a faint light coming from within the peach panties; but perhaps it was only her imagination. It was the
