This mirror; which she’s sure is also an eighteenth-century example, is in even better shape than the one she had seen on TV. Although there were some light scratches along the inside edges where the glass met the frame, it’s minor damage and showed age. From the bed, you could hardly see them anyway. Having passed the bed view test she climbed off her big bed and walked back in front of it again. Gently touching the frame once more and running her fingers over the filigree work with a sigh of contentment. She undressed slowly, staring at herself in the mirror, inspecting her own womanly curves. I’m not bad looking, she thought as she ran her hand over her D cup breasts. Her nipples sticking through the material of her bra.
She turned side on, enjoying the view of her firm butt cheeks. She bent forward to get the full effect. Her breasts straining against her bra making her cleavage pop. Her ass stretching her black lacy panties pleasingly. Her cheeks flushed and she found it suddenly harder to breath. Grabbing her cell phone, she took a few selfies of her posing in the mirror. Why not, she looked totally hot. She felt the heat growing between her legs and growing urge to play with her clitoris. Slipping out of her bra and throwing it on the bed, she looked at her sumptuous breasts in the mirror, pinching her hard nipples feeling little jolts of electricity run through her as she did. She felt something run from her cunt into her panties, and it became too much for her, so she slid a hand down the front.
As her finger touched her hard clit poking out like an erection, her body shivered, and she threw her head back with a moan making her blonde hair bounce. With one hand pinching a nipple and rolling it in her fingers, the other rubbed her clit, broken only to slide fingers inside her wet cunt. All her muscles in her lower abdomen, pelvic, and thighs got tighter and tighter, as if a springs being wound tight, which made her thighs quiver and shake. A light sweat broke out all over her body, making her glisten in the soft light. Her breathing is getting rapid and irregular, as fingers worked her clit, she thrust her hips toward her hand, bending her knees as her body shakes, and becomes completely engrossed in pleasuring herself.
Her moaning got louder as her pleasure increased. Throwing her head back, and drawing in the deepest breath, she could, she lets out a strained sounding, “Oh! Ah! Mm!”
Her clitoris exploded in the heat, and her muscles; previously taut as a drum, release themselves as pleasure rolls out of her clit. Her body shook, and she fell to her knees, panting, feeling that brief, yet intense release of sexual energy radiate through her body. Joanne held the position for a few minutes, as she caught her breath. She looked at herself in the mirror, and giggled. Her hair is messy, her face sweaty and flushed, and her breasts hanging as though udders.
“Who’d a thought antiquing can be this much fun?” she said to herself in the mirror.
Looking at the time, she dragged herself to her feet and headed for the bathroom. What she wants now, more than anything, is a hot bath before she went to bed.
*****
The alarm clock read seven am, the time she normally wakes on a working day. She closed her eyes curling up under the quilt, snuggly and warm, as today is Saturday. She didn’t have to really get up early. The best part of the weekend is knowing that you don’t need to get out of bed. Hell, I could stay in bed all morning, she thought dreamily. In her mind, a moment of rare freedom. However, the parental voice in her head reminded her of the plans she had made this morning, and grudgingly, she climbed out of bed. Wearing her white cotton nightie, she stopped in front of her new antique mirror and checked herself out. She laughed again, as her long blond hair looked a mess as usual in the morning.
In the adjoining bathroom, she suddenly felt very aroused. Looking back at the mirror, she smiled, pulling her nightie overhead and throwing it on the floor. Her reflection is so hot, those firm D-cup breasts, and her pink nipples hard and sticking out. Again she ran her hand down her body and played with the bushy blond hair of her pubic mound briefly. Any man would be lucky to have this, she thought. Her eyes were trained on her reflection, drinking it in, thinking about being fucked by an equally hot man with a big fat cock.
A moan escaped her lips as she ran fingers over her slippery cunt lips. Something about her reflection turned her on so much, Joanne isn’t this vain normally. The sight of herself nude didn’t usually make her aroused. Something about how she looked in this mirror made her tremble, and made her wet. She pumped her fingers into her juicy cunt, using one hand to rub her clit, and the other to finger fuck herself. Joanne moaned loudly as she brought herself to orgasm quickly. As she came, the reflection wavered, but she felt too lost in the pleasure pulsating from her cunt, to think too much about it. Her masturbation sessions are never this intense. Once the feeling had gone, she felt tired and looked at the clock again. Damn it, she thought, maybe another hour’s sleep won’t hurt after all. So she climbed back in bed naked, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
*****
She suddenly jolted awake, blinking her eyes, nearly screaming as she saw something moving at the end of her bed. She rubbed her bleary eyes, wondering what it could have been, realizing it must have been her reflection. She chuckled, her voice weak as she realized how silly it is, being scared of your own reflection. I’ll have to move it, putting it there had been a bad idea, she thought. She didn’t want to wake and frighten herself every morning. What time is it anyway, she wondered? She glanced at the bedside clock, groaning when she read nine am. Joanne decided she should get up, and move the mirror, it had started to seriously creep her out.
She rolled over, thinking about getting up. She needed to go to the supermarket today, and had a date tonight. Of course, she had some weekend chores to do.
She fell asleep again.
Joanne woke again after five pm, and she still felt weary. She’d had a dream, a nightmare really, with her in a white cotton nightie running down these dark hallways, feeling as though she was chased by someone. However, as she opened her eyes and the cobwebs fell away, the memory of the dream faded from her mind. Climbing out of bed and chastising herself for sleeping so late in the day, she quickly got dressed, and went into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup.
She had a date at a newly opened restaurant for dinner, then they were going to the movies. Her date is with a guy called George, who’s not bad looking, an ‘average’ kind of guy. They hadn’t gone all the way yet, although she knew he’s keen to have sex with her. They had only kissed so far, and he had felt her breast once, accidentally on purpose, if you know what I mean. Tonight, though, there’s something about him that seemed to turn her off slightly. Their table at the restaurant set against a wall that’s one large mirror.
The date started pleasantly enough, but she noticed in the mirror he leered at her, licking his lips sexually, and staring down her cleavage. Every time she turned to bust him on it, he acted normal. It began to make her feel mad at him. Toward the end of the dinner, she could see him in the mirror reflection stroking himself under the table as he talked to her. Right there, in the restaurant! Obviously, all he wants from me is nasty sex, she thought angrily. His pleasantness seemed somehow phony now, even forced. Impatience developed in his manner, an expectation even. What a pervert, she thought. It made her stomach churn, and she decided it’s time to break it off with him.
At the cinema, he chose a seat at the back of the theatre, and to her frustration, he became all hands once the light went down. First around her shoulder in your typical date night move. Once his arm lay over her shoulder, his hand moved toward her breast. When she grabbed his arm and lifted off her and threw it back in his lap, he began touching her leg instead. Trying to run his hand up between her thighs, under her dress, to her sweet spot. She batted it away again, giving him stern looks of disapproval.
“Come on, babe,” he urged her in a whisper.
“No! Now watch the film,” she whispered back harshly.
“Stop holding out on me,” he said, squirming in his seat adjusting his pants. “You’re giving me awful blue balls!”
She considered him for a moment. “Blue balls eh? OK, get it out then.” George looked at her, mouth agape. “Come on, Mr. Blue Balls, get your dick out.”
George didn’t need any encouragement than that, so he unzipped his fly, and pulled out a thick seven-inch circumcised cock already semi-hard. Joanne looked at it for a moment before looking back at the screen. The mixed signals confused him, but to his surprise, she reached across with her hand nearest him, and wrapped it around his cock. George had developed a decent puddle of precum dribbling out of his dick, and she put it to good use. Dabbing her fingers in it, she began slowly coating his cock, making it slick from root to tip. He moaned softly as she did, his dick becoming rock hard in her hand. Once she feels satisfied he’s well lubricated, she made a loose fist at the base of his dick and slowly began pumping his cock right there in the cinema.
George looked at her hand wrapped around his dick, mouth open, eyes wide, and breathing heavily. She turned and noticed him, pulling her hand away.
“Hey,” he whispered, looking at her. “Watch the screen as if nothing’s happening, or the ushers will get suspicious,” she whispered at him, rolling her eyes.
He nodded, and she returned her hand to wrap around his raging boner once more. With all his effort George looked up at the movie, but his mind focused on what’s happening between his legs. She ran her hand up his length until his cock head became swallowed by it, sliding back down. He wished he could watch her hand, but he kept looking ahead as her delicate fingers wrapped around his dick. She began pumping him slowly, but as the seconds ticked by an ever-increasing speed and pressure developed. Joanne didn’t make a sound as she pumped George’s cock. In fact, anyone looking over at them probably wouldn’t have a clue about what’s going on. She started twisting her hand, with a tight grip over the head of his cock before returning to the base once more. Keeping his cock lubricated with his own precum. George’s breathing grew ragged, he felt so frustrated by not being able to watch her touch his cock. However, he mostly wished she’d lean across, and start sucking it.
That would be his fantasy ending to this dirty interlude. To fill her mouth with his cum, and watch her swallow it like a total slut. That’s what he wanted the most, but still she looked straight ahead while she jerked him off steadily. The thoughts of doing nasty shit to her seemed to drive on his arousal, and after about five minutes of being jerked-off, a thick globule of white cum shot out the end of his dick. He took a deep breath, and held it, trying to keep quiet. His body jerked with each ejaculation, and he had to close his eyes, while grabbing the armrests tightly as if he might fall out of the chair. Joanne didn’t even look at him to see her handy work, and once she felt the ejaculations had finished, she pulled her hand away and wiped it on his shirt.
She stole a look at George, whom had his head hung low, panting as he recovered himself. His dick had gone soft already, and rested on his pants. Cum soiled his lap, and on the back of the chair in front of him, that she could see. Shaking her head while screwing up her nose, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “George, I’m sorry, but it’s over between us. Consider that a farewell gift.
Please don’t call me.”
Joanne grabbed her purse and stood, walking out of the theatre with George watching her in disbelief as she did. His limp dick still hanging out.
As she passed an usher, she said, “Hey, that guy in the last row has been jerking off. You’d better check it out.”
The usher nodded at her and rushed off into the theatre, she laughed to herself, and walked out of the cinema.
Poor George, she thought.
*****
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