Sweet Natasha

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

prettiest thing

she had ever witnessed. Little fairies sang sweet songs to her ears as she observed the

jewel

before her eyes. She couldn't comprehend why it made her feel that way-so warm, even sentimental, a prisoner for so long, but liberated in such a wonderful presence.

She could feel her mouth water as her eyes traced the contours of the

flower

alive beneath. A small gasp escaped her lips when she saw it pulse. Only a faint contraction, indeed,

it

was alive. The naturalness of her inquisitive spirit had her inching closer to inhale the enrapturing scent of roses. It seemed only logical to immerse herself in the sweet fragrance of

something

so tempting.

Yet, her wonderful explorations were forced to a halt as she heard the girl clear her throat. Painfully moving away from the treasure, she was left with the exquisite image burned into her memory forever. It would haunt her night and day, opening a floodgate of puzzling and wishful inquiries, questions that would set her soul astir, queries that would take her to the very margin of insanity.

Always marveling, and yet most of the time wondering, '

It

must have such a sweet smell.' Long sleepless nights that would make her days' cognitive state go awry. Frightened, yes, but she was so eager to find out the truth-pondering, thinking, relentlessly envisioning what another girl's

cunt

smelled like.

On the airplane, Natasha didn't dare to look backwards again. She felt shameful to have been caught in such indecent reveries. 'Gawd, how stupid can I be! What would she think of me?' Then, aghast, she was suddenly struck with the realization that the girl seemed to have enjoyed her lecherous ogling. 'Could it be?'

Gathering all of her courage she glanced back once more, but now the girl was sitting in a modest position, reading her magazine. Only a coy smile remained as evidence of her voyeuristic display.

Natasha couldn't help the incredible feeling of excitement as she remembered the girl's jacket; it had the emblem of the school that she had sullenly accepted to attend. She would have preferred something closer to home, perhaps an hour away, a school that would prevent her from the much-dreaded flying. Yet the four-hour flight had proved fruitful, even exhilarating. Just to think that her school would harbor such a beautiful creature made her depths stir. Perhaps she would get to know someone like her, maybe even become friends with one, thinking, 'Oooh, that would be so wonderful.'

As her thoughts went back to the girl's crotch, she felt her body shiver. The black panties' middle crease showed the split of the gem hidden behind. Its image quickly reminded Natasha of even larger and incomparable possibilities, unimaginable opportunities-the chance to explore the world that she had been deprived of for so many hopeless and depressing years, the possibility of intimacy with a beautiful girl's

cunt

.

She was suddenly awakened by the captain's voice in the speaker: "Ladies and gentleman we are making our final descent into Birmingham Alabama...." Quickly shutting her eyes, she leaned back on the headrest and waited until the ship landed.

Making her way to the baggage claim, she immediately noticed the prevalent southern accent among the crowd. It was very strong and easily noticeable-a clear testament that she was about to start a new life away from home.

She did have bit of difficulty understanding the shuttle driver as he asked her where she was going. But it was nothing that couldn't be remedied by plainly saying again, "I am headed to the University of Alabama. I'll be staying in Rose Towers."

As they drove past the university's entrance, Natasha felt as if she was entering an unknown dimension, a completely different universe. Her eyes had never seen such a large crowd of young people. She became immediately entranced by a group of three girls jogging; they were sporting red shorts and shirts with the university emblem. Her neck almost snapped as she followed their trail with rapturous eyes. It was the initiation to a dream that she had contemplated for the longest time; yet, it was only the mere beginning of her adventurous breakthroughs.

As she was dropped in front of a tall brick building, she glanced at the towering sign: Rose Towers. It was an exact replica of the catalogue pictures. She had chosen this building in a naughty and rebellious impulse. When her mother suggested a dorm closer to her faculty, she would sulk and dish out excuses of space and comfort, when in reality she had other motives. Natasha found the idea of living with another girl exhilarating, but the prospect of sharing an apartment with two girls was irresistible. The laws of probability were only logical to her at the time: the more girls, the more

cunts

.

As she made her way through the revolving doors and into the cool building, she was met by a sea of moving bodies. A phalanx of college girls-all heights and widths, a delectable array of female flesh, nubile young bodies revealing tanned legs and pale legs. Most were shapely and slim, and it all seemed astonishing to Natasha as she carefully soaked everything in. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and tried to capture the unfamiliar scent of beautiful college girls.

Hastily making her way to the registration desk, she stood in front of a pale red-head with emerald green eyes-they were almost an exact match of her own. The girl's tag read Liby, and she smilingly said, "Hi, I am Liby. Can I help you?"

As Liby offered her help, Natasha found her eyes traveling to the girl's exposed cleavage. Her breasts were voluminous and the coral freckles seemed to glow on its pale surface. Natasha's eyes twinkled with their alluring sight.

"Hellooo. Can I help you?" Liby repeated, her tone a bit puzzled and impatient.

"Oh, I am so sorry. My name is Natasha, and I need to get a room assigned to me?"

"Aaand your last name is . . .?" Liby asked, as she rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"Ooops, sorry again. It's Finley." She felt embarrassed of her clumsiness.

"Okayyyy, Ms. Finley! Please fill this out and take it to the desk to your right. They will issue a key to you." And so Natasha was finally assigned an apartment on the 16th floor: # 1621.

It was very cozy and spacious, with three moderately sized rooms, empty except for beds and mahogany study tables. The kitchen was even larger than what she had expected. The balcony had an amazing view of the entire campus and as she contemplated the beautiful landscape, she couldn't help the overpowering feeling of liberty, the impetuous sensation that comes with unbridled freedom. It was even a bit overwhelming, after so many years of virtual imprisonment. And yet, it all seemed so vivid before her eyes-an entire world just waiting for her to explore and to roam around in it freely.

Natasha's reverie was disturbed by the clicking sound of a key opening the front door, prompting her to think, 'Gawd, is it what I think?' Her heartbeat accelerated at the prospect of meeting one of her roommates.

As she nervously walked into the living room, the front door flew open with a girl struggling to pull her luggage backwards. Natasha's eyes widened as she took in the monumental curves of the newcomer. Her dark brown hair flowed to the middle of her back in long and graceful curls; it shined even in the faint light of the passageway. Below the short burgundy skirt, tanned shapely calves sustained the curvaceous figure. As the girl bent to get a firmer grip on her bundles, Natasha could see the subtle rippling of muscles under the sleek skin of the well-toned thighs.

As the girl quickly turned around, she was startled to see the slim, green-eyed girl silently observing her. "Heyyy, sorry, didn't know you were there. I am Jennifer."

As Jennifer offered her hand, Natasha could only stare in awe at the confident beauty that seemed to power the girl's aura. Her features were sublime; the color of her eyes and the sharp edges of her profile reminded Natasha of an incredibly gorgeous actress, but couldn't think of the name.

Nervously extending her own quivering hand, she managed to blurt out some words,

"H-h-hi, I-I am Natasha." She felt her body shudder as she made physical contact with the obviously confident girl, and found it difficult to maintain eye contact with the seemingly surefooted minx. Jennifer literally exuded a natural air of superiority, which Natasha found overwhelming. Her facial expressions oozed the habitual traits of a vain and egotistic spirit. This was a girl to be worshipped!

"Why are you staring at me like that?" the girl asked, almost displeased.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just that you look like someone I've seen on...."