"Why do you need it, dear?"
Glancing back at the mirror, Josie wondered what had driven her to this acquisition? However, the mirror was worth the fifty pounds paid for it. In a carved gilded frame, with all those garlands, curlicues and cherubs, made at least a hundred years ago, the mirror made a strong impression, so strong that none of the participants in the auction dared to buy it.
Josie raised her hand as the price dropped below the starting price. The sixth sense prompted that the mirror was intended for her.
- Where to put? asked the messenger, losing patience. - I can't hang around here all day. Which room? On the first or second floor?
The question puzzled Josie. And she didn't even think about it. What got into her? Impulsive shopping is not her thing. Even vice versa. Once again, she seemed to hear Sam's voice, irritated and boring, which she would remember for the rest of her life: "How could you buy this monster? Are you crazy?"
The decision arose spontaneously. He will still tell me what I want, then I do it.
“Take him to the bedroom,” she said to the messenger, who was still squeezing through the front door. - On the second floor, first door on the right. Lean against the far wall, in the alcove.
The bedroom was completely hers now because Sam had abandoned it. For an additional fee, the messenger agreed to help hang the mirror. An hour later, it looked up at the bed, adding light and space to the alcove. When Josie cleaned the mirror, she looked much better. With the sleeve of her T-shirt, Josie wiped the dark spot off the surface of the mirror and took a step back. She stared at her reflection.
But there is something to see. Hair the color of ripe rye, an elongated, non-standard, memorable face. Light somehow strangely interacted with the surface of the mirror. Josie could have sworn she saw movement in the greenish depths.
Yes. Exactly. Not over the entire surface, but in the oval zone in the center of the mirror. Something was moving there. A chill ran down Josie's spine. It was as if someone's face was looking at her. Josie rubbed her eyes. And I saw only a mirror surface. The oval is gone. His heart, suddenly pounding, returned to its normal rhythm.
Sam would have said that she had read too many "witchy" books, as he called them. Her interest in otherworldly forces was one of the reasons for their divorce. She convinced him that "occult" means secret, intimate, that is, it was about knowledge still hidden from man, but he did not approve of her hobbies.
- Why can't you read romantic stories or sex manuals like all normal women? he asked dismissively. - Instead of all this nonsense about spirits and ghosts.
Josie smiled sadly, not surprised that she saw a mysterious oval in the mirror. She knew she was overtired. The doctor said she was suffering from stress, a disease of the twentieth century. Of course, they were divorced only two months ago.
Roy, her best friend and owner of the antique shop she worked at, came up with a simple solution.
- Go on vacation and fuck your ass, honey. Take two weeks. We're in the off season anyway. Go where there is a lot of sun and sand. You need a new man. Believe me, this is a reliable, tried and tested remedy.
"For you, perhaps my old gay man," Josie replied mockingly.
Roy wasn't offended at all.
- My dear, what suits one should suit another!
She took a vacation but didn't go anywhere. Sam did a great job with her. On his scale of values, she was listed on a par with insects, and certainly could not be compared with his new chosen one, a curvy brunette who attracted Sam not only with an overactive libido, but also with a fat wallet. But the worst part was that Sam's opinion weighed on her like a stone slab. Perhaps in a few months she would be able to walk along the bank and look at the men appraisingly, as Roy suggested, but at the moment she only wanted to get drunk. Such a desire aroused in her thoughts about her ex-husband.
Josie took a bottle of brandy to bed with her. I watched TV for a while. Brandy and one of her favorite films, "Someone's Watching Me", helped her relax. When the movie ended, she turned off the TV. Stretching out to her full height, still without undressing, she leafed through a glossy frivolous magazine. And this idea was thrown to her by Roy. "Honey, you should get a taste," he laughed.
"Someone is watching me" - a film in 1987. Romantic thriller. Directed by Ridley Scott and starring Tom Berenger.
On the spread there was a fair-haired, tanned handsome man with a luxurious figure, and alluring to him. Josie ran her thumb over her flat stomach, her powerful chest muscles. Then her hand went down to the penis and scrotum. Too bad he didn't. For some reason, in all women's magazines, naked men were photographed with a hanging member. It somehow did not excite.
However, something worked on Josie. Perhaps the expression on the face of a beach handsome. Of course, a manly face, but it was felt that this man could understand a woman. One way or another, but Josie woke up an interest in members of the opposite sex. Roy wasn't wrong. Of course she needs a man. Who will kindle with insane passion for her, put her to bed, kiss her, say that she fucks like no one else in the world.
The problem, however, was that Josie was not ready for such a relationship. She did not recognize sex without the unity of souls. The emotional side mattered too much to her. Well, she thought humbly after another sip of brandy, she would have to be alone for a while. She already felt a pleasant light intoxication. And the "pussy" suddenly swelled up, became very wet. For the first time in a long time, she had the urge to masturbate. Why not? She has the right to have fun, albeit alone.
Josie took out the vibrator she'd bought on Ann Summers' recommendation and lay back on the bed. The vibrator was another impulsive purchase. She has never used it yet. Josie looked at the instrument. Transparent, pink, near the end of the plastic ball filled with round beads.
Josie unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. She snagged the denim panties with her thumbs and sent them after the jeans. The reflection in the new mirror turned her on even more. She looked slutty and sexy, naked from the waist to the knees, with tousled hair. And his eyes burned with brandy-lit flames.
She still couldn't figure out what made her buy the mirror, but every moment she was more and more inclined to think that she had made the right decision at the auction. Never before had she looked at herself while masturbating. But there is a first time for everything. "The birth of a new Josie," she voiced her thoughts happily, slurring her tongue. "Are you watching me, mirror"?
Her hand slid over her stomach, and she felt the warmth spreading over her "pussy". She bent her legs, spread her knees wide, watching her outer lips part, revealing the pinkness of her inner ones. They already shone with life-giving moisture. And between them mysteriously darkened the pharynx of the vagina. Something like dark red velvet. Then her gaze lingered on the mirror. Did she really have such skin, the color of thick cream? Does she always have such luxurious hair?
- You're worse, Sam. Scoundrel. Lost that treat! she exclaimed with a laugh.
And who needs it? Josie looked at her reflection in the mirror and a wave of pleasure ran through her body. God, I'm so sexy, Josie thought. She watched as her fingers parted her inner lips even wider, pacing up and down the wet slit. The thighs began to tingle. She decided not to take the vibrator. Bye. Leave it for a snack.
She purred with pleasure. The process is even more intimate than the usual copulation. When you are with someone, there is no way to completely relax. Your partner requires too much of you, she thought, but you feel guilty if he failed to bring you to the pinnacle of bliss. Love with yourself is more voluptuous. Because there is no need to think about someone else but yourself, your beloved. Strangely, she never let Sam watch her please herself. Now it just made her happy. Let him fuck this fat woman with brown hair, to whom he ran away! She doesn't care about him.
There seemed to be a secret connection between her and the greenish reflection in the mirror. Her hand moved faster and faster, three wet fingers gently massaging the clitoris, varying the intensity of pleasure. Without taking her eyes off her mirror double, she inserted one finger into her vagina. The doppelgänger repeated her movement. How her finger gleamed, how reluctantly the pink flesh let go of it.
As Josie lifted her hips, spread her knees even wider, arched her back, her reflection in the mirror blurred. A flash of light ran across the mirrored surface. But Josie, preoccupied with herself, didn't notice at first. Spreading her legs as wide as possible, she parted her buttocks, revealing a pink anus. He, too, gleamed wetly, surrounded by a few curls of hair.
She touched her anus with the pads of two fingers. The Forbidden fruit. Never before had she felt so lecherous, craving base pleasures. Her clitoris burned and throbbed as she stroked it. The juice oozing from the vagina Josie smeared all over her swollen "pussy" with a rush of blood. Wetting her index finger, she inserted it into the anus. At the entrance I felt resistance, but then the tip of my finger easily penetrated inside. It was like being wrapped in hot silk.
Oh-oh-oh-oh, how indecent. And again for the first time. Josie, you're a mean girl.
She drove her finger all the way, listening to the new sensations. In the mirror, she looked crazy. Eyes sparkled, body writhed. She couldn't take her eyes off the shameless reflection. Legs spread wide, wet, shiny pussy. Fingers dived into the vagina, moving and moving, bringing her to orgasm.
She felt that an unearthly bliss awaited her.
Josie paused for a moment to reach for the vibrator, turning it on. From a low rumble, her "hole" throbbed in anticipation of pleasant sensations. Josie trembled with pleasure as she stroked the wet, swollen flesh with her pink phallus. And already on the verge of orgasm introduced a vibrator into the vagina. Her hips wobbled as the first wave of orgasm washed over her. She screamed, bit her lip, and then, even more aroused by the scream, gave herself vent to moans and groans, which she never allowed with Sam. And the waves of orgasm, bringing the deepest satisfaction, rolled one after another.
Finally, they quieted down, and Josie plopped down on the bed, utterly exhausted, satisfied as never before. Some time later, she blotted the "pussy" with a paper towel, wiped the vibrator, put it away. She poured brandy into the glass and held it up to the mirror. "For our future meetings," she exclaimed, smiling broadly. "There will be many more. Mirror, you are my charm. The best artist of all time!"
She drank the brandy, looked up at the mirror again, and frowned in bewilderment. Rising up, she peered at the greenish surface. It looks like it has a big stain on it. Her head swam with brandy and her orgasm, and she fumbled around the bed to wipe the mirror with something. Her fingers found a crumpled paper napkin.
Josie rubbed the stain, and the glass shone again. Looks like it's got dust on it. Josie giggled as she realized what she had been rubbing the mirror with. "Oh sorry mirror, I smeared you with pussy juice! I hope you don't mind!"
The room swam before her eyes. Still laughing, Josie flopped onto her back. Carefree and happy. For the first time in weeks, nothing bothered her. With unruly hands, she pulled off the rest of her clothes, threw them on the carpet. Putting a pillow under her head, she closed her eyes. Relaxed, satisfied, fell asleep.
An hour later, Josie opened her eyes. Feeling cold, she covered herself with a blanket. Lunar light streamed in through the cracks in the blinds. The surface of the mirror shone with silver, as if it had accumulated the light entering the bedroom.
Josie saw a clean spot where she'd wiped off the dust with a damp cloth. The eyelids drooped, but in the next moment they shot up sharply. A clean spot on the mirror... shone. Impossible. This could not be! However, her eyes did not deceive her.
Josie looked at the mirror in amazement and horror. The spot was definitely growing, expanding simultaneously in all directions. And it continued to glow. Maybe, Josie thought, this was a nightmare caused by brandy. But no, she woke up. There is a fog in her head, of course, but she is definitely not sleeping. The stain, meanwhile, spread to the entire mirror. And at the very surface, suddenly there was depth. Josie realized that she could see into the depths of the mirror.
At first, Josie saw only a curtain of light, but then it began to dissipate and some shadows appeared through it. Josie swallowed noisily, suddenly realizing that she was in front of a room. Most likely a boudoir. Walls covered with burgundy wallpaper, a mahogany dressing table with a mirror, a screen in one corner. Velvet curtains hid the windows. An oil lamp filled the room with soft light. There was a sofa against the wall.
Then the door opened and a woman entered the room behind the mirror.
With thick red hair, an elongated, non-standard, conspicuous face. She pulled her hair up, exposing her graceful neck. A few red curls fell on her forehead. Around her neck, above the lace collar of her robe, a cameo hung on a velvet ribbon.
Josie died. And there was something: not only was there a room behind the mirror, but the woman had her face.
"God," Josie breathed. - It is me. Indeed, I am. I am in the mirror. Only I'm different.
She lowered her eyes, ran her eyes over her body, pinched her arm. Flesh, real, real. So she saw her reflection in the mirror. She read about doppelgangers. Is this possible? And only the realization that she was not in danger kept Josie on the bed. Otherwise, she would have rolled head over heels off her and ran out of the bedroom. But neither the mirror nor its mysterious occupant was associated with danger.
* doppelgangers - doubles (German)
Sitting at a half-turn to Josie, the woman in the mirror smoothed her luxurious hair a little, bit her lips to make them brighter and plumper, took a glass bottle of perfume from the table, pulled out the cork, perfumed herself: behind her ears, the crooks of her elbows, her wrists. Josie was wafted by the lavender-heliotrope scent of her favorite Zhiki, a classic French perfume. With a mischievous smile, the woman in the mirror took off her robe and sighed the hollow between her breasts.
Josie's heart raced. The remnants of fear disappeared, it was replaced by a premonition of something amazing. The innate sensuality of Josie's second self had a powerful effect on her. The redhead was certainly expecting a lover. One look at the breasts rising above the tightly laced corset was enough to make the lower abdomen doused with fire.
And what beautiful clothes she has, all these frills, flounces. She would like to dress exactly the same. It was Sam who insisted she wear tight jeans and T-shirts. Now she could only guess what she was wearing them for. Things are not very comfortable. She couldn't take her eyes off her alter ego anymore. The woman looked so innocent and at the same time knew what was what. Do I look the same, Josie asked herself.
The woman spread her black stockings around her ankles, tied just above her knees with garters. Pants, also in frills, almost to the knees, only partly hid the fullness of the hips. Through the thin, almost transparent material of her pantaloons, Josie could see the dark outline of a pubis. The woman turned, bent down to pick up her dressing gown, and the pantaloons emphasized the roundness of her buttocks, slightly drawn into the slit between them.
Josie couldn't help but admire the pomp of the woman in the mirror. Sam insisted that she go on a diet. And she, like a fool, listened to him. And here is the result: an angular figure, breasts, pimples, hips, like a teenage girl. So he ran away to the busty brunette.
Excitation with renewed vigor seized Josie when she saw that the situation in the mirror was changing. The door opened and a man entered the boudoir. Neither he nor the woman said a word, but Josie knew for sure that their relationship was the closest.
A tall, broad-shouldered, blond-haired man vaguely resembled a beach boy from the spread of a glossy magazine, which was lying on the floor among clothes. The woman stood up and turned to face the man. Smiling slightly, she put her foot behind the chair, wiggled her stockinged fingers. The man stared at the pantaloons without looking up. The cutout in the crotch allowed him to see full thighs, and between them a delicious "pussy".
One of the woman's hands dropped to her thigh, began to stroke the delicate velvety skin. From under lowered eyelashes, the woman looked at the man, as if asking: "Do you mind?"
“No, of course not,” Josie breathed, taken in by the sexuality of the scene. And, as if in answer to her words, her alter ego's finger began to play with the curls of her pubic hair before slipping into the hole. She turns him on, teases him, Josie thought. She didn't dare do that to Sam. Yes, and there was no particular desire.
And the woman in the mirror spread her legs, parted the outer lips of the “pussy” with two fingers, pressed down on the clitoris from below, so that it grew like a tubercle above the pink flesh surrounding it. Josie looked at the man's face and a voluptuous rye ran down her body. Reddish pubic hair gleamed in the lamplight. Swollen outer lips, parted with fingers, opened moist inner ones. And between them, the throat of the vagina reddened invitingly.
Josie licked her lips. She would never do such a thing. But her second "I" was not at all shy about her femininity. She really loves herself, Josie realized, unlike me.
The woman in the mirror spread her hips wider and wider. The man gazed greedily at the beauties on display. It seems that he was eager to snuggle in the tender "hole", to caress the clitoris with the tip of his tongue. He wanted to drink the seeping moisture, inhale the thick musk, hear the woman sigh and moan beneath him.
Josie was already dreaming of a man who wanted her so much. A handsome man, strong and sensual. She crawled to the foot of the bed to get closer to this intimate spectacle. Losing her head from excitement and passion, she got up, almost poking her nose into the mirror. And at that very moment, the glass seemed to melt. From a barrier, the mirror became a doorway.
There was no time for doubt or surprise. With a sixth sense, Josie knew that she would miss her chance if she did not accept the impossible as real. Throwing out her hand, she reached out with her whole being to the man. And suddenly she found herself looking into his eyes. She realized that one of her legs was on the chair. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a screen and a lamp.
"I've been waiting for you for so long," the man's blue eyes flashed.
Josie's heart skipped a beat. The man's sensual mouth broke into a wide smile. Kind and cheerful. Her head was spinning as his hand covered hers. Warm, real. Shirt, corset, pantaloons... Unusually, of course, but she did not experience any inconvenience.
Unable to resist, Josie turned to the large mirror that hung on the wall behind her. Do I exist in the real world, she thought. I was relieved to see the bedroom, the blinds on the windows. And a skinny blonde sitting on a rumpled bed. The blonde looked so miserable that Josie felt sorry for her.
The man, her ideal lover, embraced the looking-glass Josie. He ran his hands around her waist, stroked her full hips, squeezed her buttocks. What was his name? Who cares. It's not the name that matters, but the feelings. Josie laughed hoarsely and unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall off her shoulders.
Her lover groaned as she released her breasts. He stuck his nose into a scented cleft. He kissed the firm skin, and then he reached the nipple. Josie sighed contentedly as he cupped his lips around the nipple and began to stroke it with his tongue. He moved from the first nipple to the second, and then stepped back for a moment to admire the fruits of his labors: full breasts now crowned with swollen pale pink buds.
Josie wanted to laugh and cry with happiness.
- You're the perfect lover, perfect.
He stroked her forehead, pushing back the curls.
"I'll do whatever you want, dear," he whispered softly.
Passion seized Josie. A fire broke out in the "pussy". Oh God, how she longed for him to fill her hot stove. Their eyes met. He seemed to know all her desires. A moment later, Josie turned around, laying her belly on a wide chair. Her open "pussy" exuded musk. And then she felt the head of his cock gently poked into the "hole" and moved on, penetrating deeper, filling it.
He moved rhythmically back and forth. Josie arched her back, pressing her buttocks against the underside of his muscular belly, knowing that this would tighten the walls of her cock. Her lover yelped, picking up the pace.
"Come on, my dear," he whispered. - Milk me dry. Make it tremble. Make it go down.
His words aroused Josie even more. The member of the man walked like a piston. Never before had she experienced such an all-consuming voluptuous pleasure. She moaned and writhed under him, his pubic hair rubbing against her buttocks. Putting her hand into the slit of her pantaloons, she began to rub her clitoris, and again and again he drove his end into her with force.
Josie could see their reflections in the large mirror on the wall, now serving its intended purpose. The slit in the pantaloons allowed to contemplate the wet "hole", into which either sank all the way, then three-quarters of her lover's thick cock crawled out. Josie reveled in the sight of her strong back, rounded buttocks, strong thighs that could easily support the weight of a man.
She loved herself like this, fat-meaty. She liked that there were a lot of them.
- Oh, I'm going down. Oh my God, her lover cried out.
Josie came at the same time as him, the contractions of her cunt really milking him dry. The man went limp, a heavy carcass fell on her in an ecstasy of bliss. She forgot about Sam, forgot about his attempts to rob her of her self-confidence, the nasty divorce, the long lonely nights. She forgot about Roy's advice and how it couldn't have happened. She believed. Let cynics like Sam hold their own. It didn't concern her.
Her lover kissed her tenderly before leaving.
"Here I am at your service," he whispered, breaking away from her lips.
Josie squeezed his cheeks in her hands.
"If you only knew how grateful I am to you," she breathed.
After he left, she turned to the mirror and again saw the skinny blonde on the bed. Moonlight fell into the room through cracks in the blinds. The other Josie was asleep, a smile on her placid face. Through the looking-glass Josie knew that she had to go back and enter the body of a woman on the bed, realizing that her alter ego would always exist in this amazing mirror. Where an ardent lover will wait.
As Josie walked to the mirror, the boudoir behind her began to blur and darken. She peered into her sleeping body, breathed in the familiar scents of clean linen and fresh paint. And then her cheek was already lying on the cold pillow.
The red-haired woman in the mirror smiled tenderly. The lamp flickered and went out.
In a contemporary bedroom, moonlight reflected off a greenish mirror.