Cramped Quarters - Love Under Lockdown

I didn’t look bad, I didn’t think. A bit on the soft side with a few extra pounds here and there. Though this only made my breasts bigger.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, the ghost of a smile haunting my lips. I was in pretty fine form and also young. Only eighteen, and a virgin to boot. Surely there was some nice guy out there who would want to take me for a wife.

I knew I was too young to be thinking about such things, but it really was what I wanted. Not least because I felt I should preserve my purity for my husband, as difficult as that task had been since puberty.

I was honestly shocked at my libido. Of course, I did my best to be lady-like, but that didn’t stop the inferno inside me from burning.

The situation was getting desperate. As soon as I was in the shower, my hand was down between my thighs. I knew it was supposed to be wrong, but I didn’t see how.

It felt good, yes, but that wasn’t really the point. My primary motive for touching myself was to try and put out the fire, so to speak. How could it be a bad thing to do if it prevented me from doing other bad things, like going to find some guy to have sex with in real life, instead of only thinking about it while I was alone?

I stroked my hand gently over my aching pussy, or ‘peach’ as I often thought of it as. I really was a kid in a lot of ways. Not least in terms of pubic hair, never really growing that much of it. I was a bit concerned, but the doctor told me it could happen, my ‘peach’ being really more of a nectarine.

The feeling of stress started to turn into one of pleasure and I leaned against the tile wall for support. My mind was more or less blank, not really thinking about anything but the sweet relief building up.

I thought about a handsome man reaching down and touching me instead, and I realized I was dripping wet. My pussy wanted to be played with, touched, kissed, fucked, by another human being. I wanted a man with a big cock who knew how to use it, who would fill me up and take me for my very first time.

My orgasm was a slow build, gaining inch by inch. Each passing second felt a little better, like a fuse. Then there was an explosion. Bright, rocketing bursts, exploding like Roman candles in my head, actually making me moan with pleasure and release.

Regaining my senses, I washed off again before redoing my hair, which had become newly sweaty with the exertion. After turning off the water and patting myself dry with one of the towels provided by the housing office, I got into my robe and put in a good hard prayer, just to be safe.

I usually tried to dress modestly but that September still felt like the dead of summer. I could have worn long-sleeves and a shin-length skirt, as was my custom, but likely would have roasted to death.

Finding the shortest, breeziest skirt I owned, I shortened it even further by tucking up the waist, the hem ending up a good two inches above my knees. Pairing this with a tank top I’d gotten at camp one year and an old pair of Chuck Taylors, I assessed the results in the full-length mirror. I felt practically naked but had to admit I was a lot more comfortable and looked pretty good as well.

At one point, I would have felt ashamed for desiring male attention, but I was never going to find a fiancé if I didn’t start looking. I was still pretty naïve due to my sheltered upbringing, but even I didn’t think the perfect guy would fall into my lap if I just prayed hard enough.

Despite the helpful signs littered around campus, I still had trouble finding the building for my first class. Partly because it was on the other side of campus. Dad didn’t actually know that I’d enrolled in an Experimental Film course. I’d added it as my sixth class after he had already approved the other ones I’d signed up for.

There was really no way of explaining why I wanted to take the course. Something about the idea of experimental film just really appealed to me.

It likely had something to do with the fact that I wasn’t allowed to watch any movies outside of the Family Channel and PureFlix. My dad was generally of the opinion that even Disney should have devil horns as a logo instead of mouse ears.

I was tempted to ask if he believed in the Illuminati, too, but, like Hamlet, held my tongue. (Plays were still okay, as long as they were written before 1900.)