The Girl in the Mirror

It had been years since I'd laid down in front of my mirror. Not since the days of exploration as I was becoming a woman. A string of bad boyfriends and bad opinions from society had shattered my confidence. When I went off to college I didn't even buy a mirror for my dorm. I'd grown to hate looking in the mirror. I'd grown to hate seeing myself.

Even now, kneeling in front of the mirror naked all I can see are the imperfections. Here I am just days before my 30th birthday and all I can see are the Freshman fifteen I never lost and the bags under my eyes.

No.

Stop that.

Focus.

I wasn't there to critique my body. I'd wasted nearly half my life doing that. This is supposed to be a time of appreciation, a time to reconnect.

So...what do I like...

It's easy enough to start with the obvious. I run my hands over my breasts and cup them like I'm weighing them. C cups, with a bit of weight to them. I'd always hoped to go just one cup size bigger. I grin at myself in the mirror as I bring one breast up to my lips and nibble on the nipple. At least I can do this. A groan escapes my lips as I bite down while squeezing the other nipple between my fingers and twist it. My nipples have always been so wonderfully responsive. I wouldn't change that for the world.

A glance in the mirror and a wicked grin crosses my face. I move my hands away and open my mouth, enjoying the view as my tits drop with a little bounce at the end. I let out a small laugh, at myself and from the pure joy of the love for my breasts.

My hands trace down my curves, fingers gently caressing the inward curve right before the curve of my hips. My hips have been a constant source of internal conflict. I love how they're used. I love the wiggle in my step and I love how my boyfriends have used them as handles to grab and fuck me harder. I even took a secret bit of thrill when at far too young an age my then boyfriend's mother told me they would be excellent baby birthing hips. But I hated the whispers behind my back from my peers. They were judgemental and cruel. I hate the way I have to wiggle into chairs in the movie theater just to sit down.

I shake my head and smile at myself again. I'd nearly lost myself to another spiral of negativity, but caught myself before it was too late.

Time to move away from the hips.

As my hand trails down between my thighs, a grin grows on my face. I'd come to what was easily my favorite part of myself. The part that gave me the most pleasure. I lean back so I can get a better view of my pussy. I'm just a few days past the itchy period of the hair growing back in so the hair isn't thick or very long and I can still see that lovely shape.

I get off my knees and lean back on a pile of pillows I'd stacked behind me. It takes a few moments to get comfortable, my legs spread wide open so I can see every part of me. A gentle slap to my clit helps get the party started with a gasp.

Slow gentle circles around my clit. I give it a flick from time to time just to make myself gasp. Most importantly though I avoid that spot just to the left. I'm not ready to get off yet. I bite my lip as I slide three fingers into my pussy. It's soaked and still loose from my morning fuck with my shower wall dildo. I lean back and close my eyes as I slowly finger myself and move to pluck at my nipple. Oooh if this isn't getting back in touch with yourself I don't know what is. I just wish I had more hands.

Something brushes against the inside of my thigh but I ignore it. Probably just a fly. But the gentle pressure on my clit isn't something I can ignore. My eyes snap open and I look down, only to see a familiar pair of eyes looking back at me. She gives me a wicked grin before dragging her tongue over my clit. I raise my hips and moan out my delight. There isn't any fear or concern as I look down into my own eyes looking back at me.

I reach down and cup the back of her head giving her a little push to encourage her to continue. When she shifts just enough to get her tongue in my hole I see it. Just a quick glimpse down her body as my eyes roll back. She's coming out of the mirror.

My mom loves to tell stories about catching me talking to myself in the mirror. It started when I was just learning to stand. A mirror on my nursery wall was my favorite spot to lean. I would play facing the mirror, laughing and having fun with no one. It kept going until I started school and got real friends she would joke.

But I'd had a real friend all along. How had I forgotten her? I wasn't trying to reconnect with myself. I was trying to reconnect with her. My girl in the mirror.