Mirror Mirror [mf], [paranormal]

((My first and last foray into the paranormal erotica.))

Mirror Mirror

I stumbled into the bathroom. If it wasn’t obvious I was half-drunk, the bottle would tip off any observers. My clothes were in a puddle in the living-room somewhere, my underwear disheveled, my makeup a mess. That fucker. He should’ve stayed here, should’ve stayed to fuck me. But nooOOoo, he just had to have a shoulder to cry on and complain about his girlfriend. And I just had to be a supportive friend while I just wanted to rip his pants of and fuck him.

It’d been too long since I’d gotten any, and my best friend just had to be a fucking hot piece of meat. The woman in the mirror looked back at me.

"The fuck you looking at?" I scowled at her, as I sat down on the edge of the tub. I took another swig, realized my bottle was empty, and broke down. I didn’t want to fuck him. Well, I did, but I was even more horny for his lips, for his arms, his face. I wasn’t fucking in love because there was no way I’d let myself be but I was in love. I broke down. Little by little, that clenching in the back of my throat began, that warning sign that tells you that, yup, you’ve derailed, and you’re going to start crying. I wanted to push it back, and got up to the sink, have a drink, wash it down. I never got there.

Hands on the basin, doing everything I could to keep myself upright, I looked at myself again. You can really hate yourself if you’ve been alone long enough. Through gritted teeth, the woman in the mirror scowled at me.

"Stop feeling so sorry for yourself."

I froze. My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t said those words. They’d come out of my mouth, but I hadn’t spoken. My reflection tilted her head. I did too.

"Interesting," I didn’t say.

I leaned back, my pose all confidence. My nails dug into my thighs, the gasps escaping my mouth finally my own. I was scared, had no idea what was going on. Had I gone insane? Had something even worse happened? I wasn’t a believer in the supernatural, but what if?

"Stop worrying. This is all in your head. Enjoy it."

I was already beginning to panic in my head, making a counterpoint, but my reflection took another step back, admiring myself in the mirror. Even my eyes reflected hers. She stripped me, a strangers hands making a stranger’s motions over my body, drawing white hot lines over my skin. She grabbed my breasts. These movements weren’t mine. It was intoxicating. My hands roamed by themselves, pushed a finger between my lips. It appeared that my moans and gasps were still mine. I was enjoying myself. Someone – or something – else was as well. Fingers slipped inside me. I felt myself as if it was someone else, someone else I was exploring, while fingers pushed inside me.

Suddenly, I felt flesh push against my back. My lower back. Hard flesh. My eyes shot open. In the mirror, I saw there was no-one behind me. Yet, my reflection was smiling. Grinning. I felt hardness between my cheeks, run against my sopping wet cunt. Nothing appeared in the mirror, my lips seemingly spreading on my own. But when my mirror image touched there, I felt the head of a cock, already dripping, against my fingers, a trail of fluid between my fingers. I watched myself in the mirror, bringing the fingers to my mouth, a wicked grin on my face and my tongue licking my lips seductively. Inside, I trembled. Trembled with fear. Anticipation. I had no clue what my impossible visitor would taste like.

Out of control, I nevertheless almost reached for the fingers only inches from my face. I could smell their musky scent. It filled me up, made me horny, wet. Clouded my mind. I hardly noticed leaning forward and sucking my own fingers until strong hands grabbed my hips and thrust a non-existent cock balls-deep into me. I groaned,and moaned, stood on the tips of my toes as both myself and my mirror-image reached for the sink to steady myself. But the invisible perpetrator had no patience, thrusting into me, fucking me senseless. I looked in the mirror and saw a face wrought with ecstasy, biting her lip, eyes half-closed a long, throaty moan escaped my lips.

I heard myself, begging to be fucked until I couldn’t stand. It lasted for what seemed like a century, being fucked more and more onto the table, towards the mirror, until my forehead hit the glass, my face was pressed into it. For a second, I felt no glass, felt warmth, hot skin against my own. I felt lips against mine, instinctively kissed them, felt my own tongue explore my mouth, slip between my lips. I tasted the cock on my own tongue. Teeth biting my lip, breaking my skin, is what sent me over the edge. I screamed, my own voice, as the incessant pounding became even more aggressive, knowing I’d be sore, as it even hurt now, hurt and felt wonderful at the same time as its length was thrust into me over and over.

I collapsed onto the floor, my own body mine again. I was in a pool of sticky juices. I dipped my finger into one of them, tasted it. It was definitely not mine. I got up, looked in the mirror. My reflection was still there, smiling.

"I’m always here." I said.

"If you need me."

((this, too, was supposed to get a sequel, and there's still a draft on my hard-drive somewhere))

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/26v7t9/mirror_mirror_mf_paranormal