The girl in the mirror

The girl in the mirror turns me on. I know it's weird, and I mentally punish myself for it all the time, but it's the simple truth. The girl in the mirror just does it for me. I like the cut of her shoulder blades, the swell of her bosom, the way her narrow waist swells outward to her hips. I like watching her touch herself. I like the way her lips part when she gets excited, the way she brushes the hair from her face. I even like the hunger in her eyes when she looks back at me.

She feels dirty when she notices me, but that doesn't make her stop. If anything, it drives her on. That's her dirty little secret - she likes performing for me as much as I like watching her. It brings goosebumps to her skin, knowing she's being watched, knowing the show is turning me on as much as it does her. It makes her hands move faster, her fingers pinch harder, and she has to will herself to slow down. She doesn't want to rush this show. That would be cheating us both.

She walks towards me, and I admire the sway of her hips. I watch her touch herself. Her nipples swell as she fondles her breasts. Oh, how I wish I could touch her. We reach out to each other, but our hands are separated by the cold, hard glass. If only we could shatter that glass and be together. If only I could feel those lips on mine.

I know it's silly, but I'm alone. Nobody but she will know. I press both of my hands to her and kiss my reflection in the mirror. It's cold and hard, and now a lip shaped smudge mars her beautiful face. One more, and I'll back away. I kiss her again, longer this time, and the glass begins to warm from my touch. I can almost imagine it's real. I can almost taste her, almost feel the impenetrable wall between us soften, molding to my mouth. I probe delicately with my tongue, and I feel the hot wetness of hers. The fingers of my hand intertwine with hers. Her warm, sweet breath brushes my face. I'm pushed back as she comes through into my room with me.

A part of my mind cries out that this can't be real, but I shush it. Here she is, my reflected twin, standing in front of me. I peer over her shoulder at the mirror. All I see is my empty room. The girl in the mirror is outside with me.

A dream? Magic? Vivid imagination? Who cares? She's here. She's here with me, and I want her. All that matters now is this overwhelming urge to please her.

I pull her to the bed and lay her down, admiring the way she moves. My fingers glide over her, tracing her curves like a sculptor. She's strong, but delicate, both firm and soft. Her skin is so smooth it's almost frictionless. I kiss her tummy, my tongue tracing that little divot where her hips meet her torso. She's ticklish there, and we both giggle as my own belly reacts in sympathy. I work my way up her body with my mouth, kiss the underside of her breast, and finally suck one hard, swollen nipple. My own nipple delights in the sensation, and that's when I realize the tingles I'm feeling aren't just excitement. Could I actually be feeling everything she's feeling? I kiss her nipple again, just to test the theory. Hmm, that's nice. How about a little bite? Ow! I think I like that.

I take my time with her breasts. I know them quite well, but I've never experienced them from this angle. My breasts seem to have a connection straight to my sex, and soon she's writhing beneath me. I'm enjoying pleasuring her, tormenting her, and I know she's enjoying it because I'm feeling it all as if I were the one laying there being pleasured. It makes me want to do more, to push her boundaries, which drives her higher, which makes me want to do more, like an endless feedback loop. My own body is squirming along with hers as the furnace of need between my legs becomes an ache.

I can't keep this up. I have to cum, and soon. In the back of my mind I know there's another thing I've never been able to explore this close up. My mouth is ahead of me, kissing it's way down her body. I slide down on the bed and bring myself towards it. I can smell her. Or is it me? I don't even know anymore.

I lower myself and lick her sex. My hips grind the air against the ghost of my own tongue. The taste is thick and creamy. I grin at how wet she is for me, then blush at the trickle of moisture running down my own inner thighs.

I don't hesitate any longer. I circle her clit with my tongue, slowly at first, the way I know she likes it. I use two fingers to rub up and down over her outer lips as my mouth explores her little bud. One finger slides inside of her, then two, pushing through the soft, wet flesh with almost no resistance. My mouth is gentle, teasing, but my fingers are more insistent, slowly building the tempo as they fuck her. The mirrored sensations in my own pussy are threatening to overwhelm me, but so is the pleasure I'm getting from servicing her. Her hands squeeze her own breasts and I feel that, too. My pulse is pounding. Her breath is ragged and filled with moans. We're both holding on for dear life, riding the oncoming waves, fighting to stay afloat. We're almost there, right at the crest. My fingers are flying in and out of her/me like a piston, my tongue stroking her/me mindlessly in all directions. Her hands squeeze our nipples, pulling them harder. We're both fighting to hold it all in, both fighting to release it. My mouth closes on her, and we both drop over the edge. She makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, but I don't hear it. There is no sound, no gravity, no space, only light and warmth and pleasure too great for the word. It goes on and on, stretching out beyond time. Finally, sound rushes in like air through a tunnel and my orgasm crashes back into me. My whole body convulses, dragging my whole soul out of me until I'm lying back on the lap of my reflection again like a wrung out washcloth.

We both lie there, panting and sweating, as the world slowly comes back into focus. She's stroking my hair, and I'm hugging her thigh. I look up at her, and she's smiling back at me, her face the picture of contentment.

We lie there with each other until the sweat dries and our breathing slows. The air is cool, but she's warm, and I snuggle as close as I can. Gently, she lifts my head from her lap. Her legs are still shaky as she stands. She kisses me, softly but deeply. It's a last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Her fingers linger on my face as she backs away, her eyes wistful. Neither of us speak as she walks back towards the empty room on the other side of the mirror.

Wow, is that really my ass?

She looks over her shoulder at me, smiling, and gives me a wink before stepping through the glass. Suddenly she's back on the bed in that other room, staring back at me, once again just my reflection in the mirror.