Experimentation

Isabella shook her head, trying to clear her head of images of Channing Tatum. Unsuccessful, she set about putting her luggage away. She plugged her headphones in and opened Spotify. Humming along to Mr. Brightside, Isabella made quick work of organizing her room. Careful not to spread into the other half of the room, she put up her cross on her desk, next to her laptop. Books went onto the floor between desk and bed. Then she patiently refolded her clothes and put them away in her dresser. She stashed her luggage, backpack, and shoes on top of and next to the dresser, respectively. Finally, sighing, Isabella nodded to herself in congratulations on a job well done.

Turning around, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked haggard, jet lag and exploration had taken their toll. Stretching, she yawned, unconsciously letting her taut stomach peek out underneath her pink sweatshirt. Isabella yawned and took out her scrunchie, placing it on her dresser. She sighed softly, running her hands through her blonde locks and relieving the pressure of a full day.

Isabella looked around for a clothes hamper, but found the room devoid of one. So, she wrote that task on her list of do-to’s for tomorrow before changing. Double checking the lock was indeed locked, Isabella closed the curtains to the dormitory. Off came her jeans, sweatshirt, socks, and bra. Quickly and efficiently, on came gray sweatpants and an old green t-shirt. Isabella traced the logo on her t-shirt, “Go, Pack, Go!” It was an old shirt of her brother's that became a hand-me-down years ago. She found it odd that she brought this shirt, but shrugged and made for the bed.

In the whoosh of her movement, the wind kicked up and whispered, “You should try masturbating in your dorm now that you’re free from your parents. You only have a short while before you have to share the room with someone else.”

Difficulty – 35

D100= 38

Blushing intensely at the suggestion, Isabella nodded. She had felt weird ever since she thought of Channing Tatum earlier. The rush of chores hadn’t tamed her impulse after all. Fighting the urge to sneak her down, Isabella got up and knelt beside the bed.

After beginning her prayers, she admitted, “Oh Lord, I don’t know what this feeling in my core is. Even the stitching on my pants is distracting. I know masturbation is a sin. I know that in your grace you made people weak. I promise I’ll find a priest tomorrow and beg forgiveness. Please don’t judge a poor sinner harshly.” Isabella made the sign of the cross and stood.

Glancing furtively at the closed blinds and the locked door, Isabella shucked off her pants and panties and jumped into bed. Uncovered was her taut ass and hairy mons.

Isabella slowly traced down her slim tummy, shimmying slightly when her finger touched fur. Biting her lip and triple-checking the closed blind, Isabella cupped her pussy. The pleasure from such a light touch surprised her, and she breathed a sharp breath in. Isabella closed her green eyes and traced the outside of her labia, her finger wicked off a bead of moisture. Nervously, Isabella placed her other hand over her breasts: underneath the blankets, but over her shirt. Her heartbeat had sped up; it reminded Isabella of watching Magic Mike. The thrill of discovery, of doing something naughty.

Isabella took her time exploring her pink little pussy. Left alone and with no sense of time, Isabella watched the shadows lengthen until the room was covered in darkness. Quiet as a church-mouse, she inhaled whenever her finger or palm caressed a sensitive area. Her other hand alternated between clutching blankets and tracing her body. Isabella suddenly had a funny thought and giggled quietly, “Now I know why Abigail always called Nicki Minaj slippier then a slip-n-slide. I’m so wet!”

It wasn’t that long until Isabella discovered her own clitoris. Her thumb brushed it on an upward stroke, and Isabella couldn’t resist a deep moan. Quickly quieting herself, Isabella waited with bated breath for any sound of discovery. When none was forthcoming, she turned her head and bit into her pillow. At the same time, she brushed it again, with the same motion. Her legs quivered, almost without her conscious control to the pleasurable stimuli. Forgetting momentarily about the rest of her pussy, she teased her clit. A tap felt good, pulling it sent good chills up her lithe back, and slightly pinching it with a twisting motion sent her to the moon. Isabella cried into the pillow as her mind shattered. All night long, the pleasure had built to this moment. Not knowing what her peak felt like, Isabella’s mind short-circuited.

Panting, she came down from her orgasmic high eased off. Though her mind felt the burden of travel, touring campus, and saying goodbye, her mind body felt a roaring fire kindle deep within.

Libido Score +1
A/N - Don't forget to like if you enjoyed this chapter.