Mirror, Mirror

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He wants her to see herself cum.
3.4k words
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The ballroom was well lit, not that it wasn't to be expected to be. The marble floor shining making it look warm and welcoming, with gold and crystal chandeliers polishing the ceilings that held home to many a cloud and angel painted onto it. It was the perfect place for the $2000 plate dinner. This was a charity fund-raiser, and to attract wealth it had to scream wealth. Many people had come to see the turn out to fund-raiser. Many politicians, celebrities and ineradicably rich people attended these fund-raisers, for various reasons. Some to help the needy, some to look like they cared and in turn boost their careers, others just to meet with people and exchange gossip.

Tory couldn't say she was here for any of those reasons. She was here on family commitment; her father was here to boost his career and she didn't delude herself for one second to think he cared for anyone but himself, he was desperate to become Mayor.

Hence the reason she was here as well as the rest of the Blake family. Her mother had always worshipped her father, she would always follow him. Her younger brother was there too—having just started college, Rick Jr. tried to look like he was bothered about what their father was doing, although Tory suspected he'd rather be out having a life of his own. And then there was Tory herself. She was in PR, and of course with her father's helpful pushes she got to that career choice, but that was unimportant. Twenty-five and Daddy still rules the roost. It annoyed her. But guilt trips were often dealt, it terms of 'Oh honey we paid for that school you wanted so desperately to go to, can't you come to a dinner for me. It's dinner, nothing big." Even though every time he dealt that, he didn't realise that he had basically drove her to an out of state college with his various ideas to 'make a difference', as he put it. Of course the current Mayor was there, trying to show everyone he was good for re-election, as well as others trying to take his place. Then there was him.

They'd been looking at each other from across the room since she got there. Maybe it was the fire-engine red, tight, thin strap dress she's wearing, or it could be the silky, blonde ringlets that gracefully touched the tops of her shoulders when her head dipped slightly, but whatever It was that drew his eyes to her, it never strayed, drawing her attention to his back clean cut hair and elegant dark, grey suit, then to his eyes; eyes of the deepest blue, holding the deepest promises. In fact the whole look of him shrieked sexual fulfillment. He seemed to have an air of arrogance to him, confident almost that he could make any woman fall to her knees, begging for something only he could give. Looking at him, she tried to keep her temperature under control; he looked like he was doing much the same. If he was anyone else they could drain their thirsts off each other. But they couldn't.

She couldn't go to him and she knew that. He was one of the reasons her father had wanted the family to go the fund-raiser. Callum Andrews. He was also up for Mayor, and her father was getting worried about the polls. At first her father had thought it was funny that Andrews would even try for it, insisting someone as young as thirty-three would never be accepted as a candidate, never mind Mayor itself. Then soon after that Andrews had come up with the campaign of the 'young being able to help the young, because the young are the future' basing it on help for schools and educations, shelters and runaways. Her father had decided when Andrews and himself, Rick Snr. Blake as he said at the time, were level pegging in the poles, he would use as an angle that Andrews didn't have to use. Family. That was his trump card. After he had pulled that one out he had been scarily gleeful saying about how the young these days didn't settle down as quickly as they use to, giving him the advantage. It was Saturday now, and he had started 'Mission Family' on Monday. It had a whole five or six days for the city to see how caring Candidate Blake was about his family. As he had said, this dinner would be perfect for the world to meet them.

The papers had never had any pictures of his family. The reporters had asked about that during the week. He had simply said he cared too much about his family to put them in the directness of the papers, and had finished it by saying how his family, caring for him so much, had insisted on going with him to this dinner and any other one as proof of their support. She was in PR so she knew why it worked—it was about love, saying how a family man who loves his family enough to do that and his family do that for him in proof of their love, would of course love the city just as much if not more so, saying he has enough love for everyone. It was clever. When she had told him how low it was, her father had simply responded with, 'If he is going to use his looks, I'm going to use what other thing the women audience wants. I'm going to use their idea of love.' She couldn't blame him; if he wanted to win he was going the right way about it, she thought as she made her way to the nearest waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes, only to get there and find them all gone and the waiter looking apologetic.

"Champagne?" came a deep voice from behind her. Turning quickly she lost her balance slightly only to have the owner of the deep voice draw an arm around her, not quite gripping her because of a flute glass graced both of his large hands. Andrews' hand, she discovered as she raised her eyes.

"Maybe champagne isn't a good idea if you're feeling dizzy," he said, tightening his grip with his arm the best he could with a glass still in his hand. Tory could feel the heat from his arm seep though the thin fabric of her gown and give her skin goose bumps, causing a blush to seep up her neck. Shaking him off, she crossed her arms over her breasts to hide the way her nipples had puckered at the mere glance of his arm on her back.

"I'm not dizzy," she lied. She became dizzy whenever she looked at him but she wasn't going to let him know that. "Thank you," she said, taking one of the flutes from his hands.

A lazy smile strayed onto his lips. "How do you know that was for you?" he asked with mischief glinting in his blue eyes.

Horror swept though her, could he just have been asking if she still wanted some since there was other waiters? Oh god-

"Er? Female Intuition?"

"Good guess," he said clinking his glass slightly to hers, a small smile playing on his full lips.

Relief burst though her, then horror again. This was her father's enemy, why was he being nice to her? Could it-? Could it be he didn't know who she was? Who she was connected to? Who gave her half her genetic information? Well that was getting a little too far, but did he?

"Callum Andrews," he said, sticking his hand out to her, and enfolding her hand in an electric buzz, causing her to flinch slightly and remove her hand quickly. Looking back up at him she saw awareness and humour.

"Your Blake's daughter aren't you? Victoria Blake? Am I right?"

Okay, that knocked that 'not-knowing-who-I-am' theory, Tory thought to herself. "Tory," she said, holding the flute close to her bosom.

"Tory," he acknowledged quietly with a husky drawl.

Her skin heated. She didn't understand it how could she be reacting like this, and all he had done was say her name. She was becoming increasingly aware of the panties she had discarded so she wouldn't have panty lines.

She gulped. "Nice to meet you, Andrews" she said, trying to distract herself.

"Callum."

"Excuse me?" she questioned.

"Callum," he repeated. "Call me Callum"

"Maybe" she said ambiguously.

"So you're the PR," he stated.

"That's right. So you want to be Mayor," she said, being obvious, telling him she knew about him too, that she had done her homework as he obviously had.

"Touché," he said with a smile.

The silence seemed deadly. She didn't know who would speak first.

"Want to dance?" he said casually.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, looking over her shoulder to see where her father was.

"Don't worry about him," he said reading her mind, she turned her head back to him. "Dance?" he repeated.

She looked at his hand.

"Yeah, okay," she said, placing her small hand in his large one.

He pulled her closer to him, putting his glass, then hers, onto the nearest table, and then leading her to the dance floor. Wrapping his now free arm around her, he rested it on her lower back, encouraging her to lean against him. Her nipples hardened. She heard him suck in breath. Her legs felt weak. His arms got tighter.

What was she doing?! Tory broke free from the embrace of his arms and made her way out of the room, passing rich couples as she went out of the ballroom and into the hotel hallway. She all but collapsed as she slouched against the wall near the door the busy ball room. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. She shouldn't being reacting like this, is wasn't right-

Feeling a small pressure on her left hip, she snapped her eyes opened wide. Andrews. He had followed her. Her gaze snapped to her hip, his hand was resting on it, his thumb moving in small circles, causing her to shudder with want, sensations clouding her head.

Her eyes followed past his wrist, arm, and shoulder to his neck where his Adams apple bounced slightly before her scrutiny. Then up to his face, craning her neck to look into his eyes. They were glazed; his fingers tightened on her hip, his eyes glowing almost as if on fire. His lips slightly parted, his head getting closer and closer, until his lips collided with hers. Hungry lips pressed into hers, nibbling on her bottom lip, parting her lips and allowing his tongue entrance, moulding their tongues, Andrews gripped her hip tighter until he pulled away, their breath coming in gasps.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her along the hallway. She couldn't believe this, she had fantasized about this since she saw his eyes on her in the ballroom and now—now she was going to—going to...

They were outside a hotel room, he was fiddling with his key card, she had noticed but was too busy thinking about what might happen to realise it already was happening. He opened the door, pulling her into the elegant room. He pulled her by her hand, turned to shut the door and push her back against it. Hip to hip she could feel the full length of him, hard and ready, almost as if piercing her dress. Her right strap slid off her shoulder almost as if it had a life of its own.

Grabbing her hand again he led her to the bedroom and up the vanity, holding her in place right in front of him, looking into a big, oval, gilded mirror on the top of the make-up table. She went to pull away and go to the bed when he gripped her hand and pulled her back where she was in his embrace.

"No" he said huskily, gently moving his hand over the aching nipples straining against the bodice of her thin gown, making her arch into his palm, until he gripped her harder, the moan escaping her lips sounding more like cry of joy than anything else.

"I want ..." he said breathing heavily, as he felt her nipples get harder "... I want ... to watch ... you cum," he said nibbling on her bare shoulder, where the strap had fallen down earlier.

She gasped.

He lifted some of the hair dangling by her shoulder and started planting kisses up her neck, nibbling as he went to her ear, licking it and sucking on the lobe. His eyes were on the mirror as his left hand slunk its way into the top of the dress, his fingers toying with the pert bud, watching her face in the mirror. Her eyes slid closed. This was crazy, but she loved it that she was in a hotel room with her father's enemy and rival. She didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted to feel these sensations.

She wanted to feel his hand and lips on her everywhere, wanted him inside her, pumping in and out of her, playing with her till she burst, she wanted—"Oh!" she thought as his hand was flicking her swollen nipple, his right hand smoothing its way down the dress, lifting it off the floor and past her black strappy high heeled sandals. She should remove them, she thought, but before she could bend down to undo the buckle Andrews whispered in her ear, "keep them on," in his breathy drawl.

Pulling the right side of the silky gown past her knees she thought she would surely faint from it all before he got to her pussy. The gown dipping on the other side from where his hand was still in the bodice, his right hand moved further up to the strap holding a triangle of covering should be. The hand on her breast stilled. She felt him smile next to her ear, her eyes opened and darted to the mirror in front of them. The smile that teased his lips was almost devilish, definitely playful. His left hand moved from her breast to her ribs underneath, rubbing firmly.

"Well, well..." he hushed out on her ear, "what do we have here?" the smile evident in his voice.

Lightly placing his fingers where her hipster panties would usually be, he skimmed the skin gently, causing her to shudder with appreciation at the awareness running though her body at 90 mph, she was going to cum. She could feel the build up as he lightly traced the tan line, her mind was blowing.

"Come on Tory baby, cum for me, I know you're close."

He moved his left hand back up quickly, gently squeezing the nipple, and her body started to convulse, her eyes shutting as the shaking consumed her senses, her whole body shrieking and her moans becoming squeals of pleasure.

"That's it, yeah, that's it," he whispered in her ear, dragging the left shoulder strap down and the flimsy material covering her plump breasts down until it folded up past her ribs. His left hand cupped her breast possessively, gripping, tugging and flicking at her bruised nipple.

His right hand moved onto her aching pussy. She hadn't expected it; he had been paying such avid attention to her breasts that she had nearly forgotten about the centre of where his attentions should be. He moved his fingers over the over the short triangle of dark, blonde curls covering her puffed-up pussy lips. Gliding his fingers over the opening of the lips he felt her hot and slick pussy juices seep though her folds. She could feel him pushing his fingers past them to her inflamed clit. He touched it and she burst again, the shudders racking her body; she felt herself slip. Andrews put his left arm around her just under her round breasts, holding her up.

"Oh—OH god, Andrews!"

"Callum," he pressed in her ear. "Say it! Say my name, say Callum, I want to hear my name on your lips when I push into you, say it."

"Callum," she repeated willingly. "Callum."

"Good girl, good girl," he said hoarsely pressing harder on her swollen clit, making her moans turning to cries. Slipping his fingers lower he urged her fingers further apart. "Look into the mirror," came the small command near her ear. She looked up. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes glassy, her lips plump and bruised with colour. His left arm still rested underneath her breasts, his thumb grazing gently over her right, untouched nipple. She moaned. His right fingers kept going further and further towards her pussy until he cupped her. She gasped, then moaned again as she felt his long index finger dive into her hot folds. He slipped it into her and she tossed her head back onto Callum's torso.

He pressed into the wall of her pussy with his finger and then slipped another one in, pushing and tickling her insides, pulling them out and in. She could only imagine it was him, she wouldn't have to wait long, but it made her even more wet thinking about it, her liquids pouring slowly onto his fingers, dripping on his hand. She was so close, so close and he came out. She moaned a protest, and unzipped his trousers rubbing his long dick behind her. Without his hand holding the remains of the dress up, it had slipped to her feet, his arm still around her, he lifted her out of the dress that had pooled at her feet and nestled her against the hardness of his cock behind her.

She could feel some of the pre-cum drip onto her back she had to touch it—she just had to. Bending forward out of the gaze of the mirror, legs still parted, she reached for him under her legs. Gripping his cock, she rubbed him in her palm and against her ass, nuzzling him. Holding his cock like a joy stick, only this was a whole different kind of joy she would get from this stick, she thought as she circled her thumb over his velvet bell-end. Hearing his gasps and grunts of pleasure, she smiled to herself. She could see the pre-cum now, whereas before she could only feel it. She had to get closer, she had to taste it, if only a little. Skimming her tongue over his fiery end soon stopped her exploring; he cried out and lifted her head back up to the mirror.

"Little witch," he said with a hoarseness in his voice he couldn't hide.

"I'm not cumming until I'm inside you," he said and lowered both of his hand over her abdomen. Lowering them further until they gripped her thighs hard, he lifted her up and her calves wrapped around his legs, her upper body swung forward, her breast bouncing slightly as her hand braced her on the vanity table.

"Look in the mirror, I want to see you when I push into you, when you cum while I'm inside you. And don't forget-"

"Callum." She remembered, how could she not? "CALLUM! Hurry I need you inside me. NOW!"

Aligning himself with her cunt from behind, rubbed the tip of his cock, provocatively over it. "Are you sure you want it now?" he teased. She heard the smile in his voice. "What if I—"

"NOW!"

With one quick thrust he went in to the hilt. He moved his hands to her hips, gripping her. A shriek passed her lips and she tossed her head back in ecstasy.

"LOOK!" he urged. Her head came back up and stared back at him though the mirror, his eyes like an ocean storm as he pumped into her, out, in, out. Her mouth jittered with silent moans, her eyes begging to shut, while her brain screamed no.

"Oh god, OH Callum!" she moaned, her knuckles turning white from gripping the vanity.

A slight chuckle came from his lips, it turning into a moan as her insides began to contract around his still hard cock, it going deeper and deeper. Her insides squeezed him as she began to shudder with her climax, Callum shuddering too.

"Oh baby yeah, oh Tory!" he let out haggardly as he filled her with his creamy cum, some sliding back out onto his cock. He moved his hands to her waist pulling her to him and onto the floor, wrapping his arms around her and said, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall..."

~

Written by TheLitGirl

Edited by Mistress_Virginia

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almost_wildalmost_wildalmost 15 years ago
Great story!

Nicely paced, intensely erotic and wild. Not too sure why it's marked as Fetish though...

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