Thrusts and Thrills in the Mirror

“Like this?” I asked, easing two fingers in, feeling my body grip them tightly as I moved.

“Hell yeah – that’s it. You’re killing me. Stand up, kneel on the chair, ass toward the mirror. Just like that.

Spread yourself – I want to see it all. Damn, that’s a work of art. Slip a finger back there – yeah, deeper, all the way. You can take it. Add another – come on, show me. That’s it, two fingers, as deep as you can. God, I’m losing my mind – that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stood, shedding his pants entirely, his arousal on full display.

“Now spread yourself wide, because I’m going to take you there while you keep those fingers working up front. Do it!” His hand landed on my cheek with a sharp smack, the sting blooming into a warm, red mark on my skin.

“Beg me for it – tell me you want it.”

“Yes, please – give it to me, all of it, deep as you can go.”

“Anything you say, darlin’.”

I bit back a gasp as he entered me, my body only slightly prepped by my own fingers. His size stretched me, a tight, burning fullness that was almost too much but felt impossibly right. He fit like he was made for me, every inch pressing against my sensitive walls, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through my core. Marcus gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he began to move, slow at first, then harder, each thrust deliberate and deep. Every few strokes, he delivered another sharp smack, the sound echoing in the room as my skin flushed under his touch, the mix of sting and heat driving me wild.

“Keep touching yourself,” he growled. “Slide those fingers in – deep. You love this, don’t you? I can see it – you’re on fire.”

My fingers worked frantically, plunging into my wetness, curling to hit that perfect spot as my clit throbbed under the pressure of my thumb. Each thrust from Marcus sent a jolt through me, my body rocking with his rhythm, the mirror reflecting every detail – my flushed skin, my parted lips, the way my body opened for him. The pleasure was overwhelming, a sweet, aching pressure building inside me, begging for release.

“Harder,” I gasped. “Break me, Marcus – fill me up, don’t stop.”

“I’m close,” he groaned. “Get ready – I’m gonna flood you.”

His release hit like a storm, a hot, pulsing rush that filled me, spilling over as my own climax crashed through me. My fingers slowed, my body trembling as waves of pleasure rippled from my core, leaving me breathless and spent.

He pulled out and told me to stay as I was – kneeling, open, dripping with him. He grabbed his phone from his discarded pants and snapped a close-up of the aftermath, the image raw and unfiltered.

He showed it to me, and I couldn’t look away – it was primal, obscene, and insanely arousing. I stared, stunned.

“For the crew,” he said, zipping up his pants with a smirk. “They’re gonna want to know why I was gone so long.”

The idea of his coworkers seeing that sent another thrill through me, my body still buzzing.

“Ten days, huh? When I’m craving more, I know where to find you. I’m yours for whatever you need.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Think I’ll be calling you back?”

“Oh, I know you will. Nobody walks away from this. And if you don’t call, I’ll come knocking. Tomorrow, get that pretty body ready – it’s got more to take.”

He slipped out, closing the door with a soft click.

Image is illustrative. View Source.