The Mirror...

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A woman, once alluring, questions her here and now.
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A mirror sat in front of her parted thighs. Her cunt had lost the smoothness over the last five years. At one time it had looked magnificent, something so sensuously shaped, so alluring, a wonderment to the eyes of man.

Now, it looked slightly stretched, worn and tired.

Through years of self-abuse, childbirth from two years ago and a constant need of sex, this unquenchable nymphomaniac now prodded the wilting lips with slow melancholic movements. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and exhaled the thick fumes, which dulled the edges of the image that reflected back the fear she stared at.

'Times against me,' she said to herself.

The phrase felt terrifyingly real. The realisation that she had burnt most of her youth and beauty away, and that from here on out, she would rapidly decline and lose the power she held over men.

She snapped her legs shut and lit another cigarette from the one that was almost finished.

A noise came from within the bathroom, followed by a flash of a man behind her, who fell quickly back into the bed. She hadn't the energy or will to engage in any conversation with him. She couldn't even remember his name. They hadn't even talked, apart from a few fleeting words of exchange. The rest had been her body language, the way she had flaunted her flesh, her overt sexuality, and the filthy-fuck-fiend-look that she normally exuded from her green eyes in the moment of desire.

'Times against me,' she whispered to herself.

Thoughts of the future her began rippling into other thoughts, which in turn rippled into ever-wider thoughts that made her head start to spin and rip and reel. She couldn't shake it, the horror and knowing of what is and was to become.

She stubbed out her cigarette and slowly made her way over to the bed. The man was naked, lying asleep on his back, the sheets crumpled and spread out about him.

She felt empty inside and wanted so badly to feel anything else but the numbness that wrapped and curled around her, slowly choking her inner self.

She had to fuck, to escape reality, even if only fleetingly.

Her fingers glided along the man's inner thigh, he stirred slightly. The closer her hand moved to his groin the more blood started to flow there. She felt detached from this scene though, as if it was another who made her movements. Inside her mind she was fighting for control, for that surge of absolute lust that strikes at one and then possesses the mind, hijacking the entire being and taking over through to the fury of the climax.

She was now stroking his balls and caressing the base of his prick, which soon shot up erect. She gazed at the black hole below her. The man was now moaning with pleasure as she started to gently pull it up and down. Moving onto the bed she crawled on her hands and knees between the man's parted legs. She grabbed hold of his cock again and moved her mouth over its tip and slid her tongue over it. She quickly pulled away. It tasted foul to her, stale and rotten from the fuck they had had before.

Her insides twitched. She had to fuck, she had to lose herself, even if only for a moment.

Straddling over his crotch she spat on her hand and rubbed her saliva upon his whole shaft before holding it against her clit and moving her groin against it. She started to feel some pleasure, and concentrated on this distant feeling. Slowly she kept gliding, feeling herself starting to get a little wet. The smell of sex began to waft upwards into her nostrils. The man still lay with his eyes closed, as if dead, only moving his mouth from grunts and groans.

An animalistic need started to shake through her. It was starting to happen, that point when everything quickly fades away but the sensations of fucking, of its delirium. Her cunt was getting wetter, she couldn't take it any more and so positioned herself over the tip of his prick and sunk down the entire way. She shut her eyes and tilted her head back and kept like that. She didn't move her body but the soft walls inside of her, which contracted along the man's girth. At the end of his groin line she couldn't get any more cock into her, this was all the length the man could offer her hunger, her greed.

She started riding, feeling the thing plunge in and out, and playing with the inches that were there. Her fingers pulled on his nipples and she felt that sudden surge of power, of absolute control, a deeper moan emanated from him. She was in charge of this event, of what was happening, and so began moaning herself now, her hips starting to bang away as she moved faster with ravenous want. She sucked on her forefinger and then pushed it up her arse. Louder she moaned, moving increasingly faster, her free hand gripping the man's stomach for balance as she closed her eyes tight and kept rocking back and forth to an internal beat. Her hips pounding ever harder as the man grabbed her thighs and held them firmly. His upper body tightened as he held on, and then to thrust his crotch upwards. She gasped as he held this position. Her head tilted back further as he reached upwards and pulled on her hardened nipples. Again she let out a loud moan and felt the feelings of the man grabbing her hips and pulling her back and forth. Here, she felt herself go and went along with what he was doing as her heart started pounding faster with excitement, her juices rolling around wildly in her cunt and an orgasm building rapidly. She pushed him back hard and placed her hands around his neck and putting a little force there she rocked back and forth quicker and quicker. In no time at all she felt it about to break through. The man's body clenched up and sent off a stream of hot spunk into her that triggered off her own orgasm, which swamped her wet with cum.

She then felt the man's hands come about her and pull her into his arms. She felt repelled by this hallucinogenic tenderness, this utter falseness, and so she got up, wrapped her kimono around her body and lit a cigarette. She sat again in front of the mirror and stared deeply into her own eyes, feeling such an overwhelming crushing sentiment of loathing.

She takes another deep drag and slowly breathes the thick fumes out, the smoke curls about her, dulling the edges of her image.

(c) 2005

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