Intimate Reflections

Everyone has to have their thing, right? The thing they can do that no one else can do - the thing that makes them unique. So I've discovered mine. Or maybe I should say it discovered me. I know this will seem strange but my "thing" is that I can somehow see into mirrors - see the past like I'm watching a movie. It's not like I can control it either - it just happens to me.

I'm not sure if I should tell anyone - I'm afraid I'll be labeled a freak or something, but I see so many things... I need to talk about them, but I can't, so I guess this is the best I can do.

It started rather late in life for me, soon after after my 30th birthday. I was at my friend Joe's house for a barbeque. We'd both had a few too many beers. That and the combination of the strong summer sun out in his backyard made me rather tipsy - and I badly needed to use the facilities, so I went in to find the bathroom.

Joe's house - ok well his parent's house - was pretty nice. He'd grown up in that house and, now due to a bad break was living at home (temporarily he kept reminding me). As I came back from the bathroom, I passed each of the bedrooms down the old hallway. So many times I'd slept over in this house - I kinda felt like I'd grown up here myself. I was reminiscing about the trouble Joe and I used to get into when movement in one of the bedrooms caught my eye. I stopped, frozen in my tracks.

Through the slightly open door to Joe's parent's bedroom, I could see clearly through to the mirror over the dresser. There, in the mirror, I could see Joe's parents in the bed. Well, on the bed actually. I blinked trying to clear my eyes - and my head. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains playing lazy shadows across the bed, glinting through the cigarette smoke that floated around the room. I blinked again - wait - Joe's father quit smoking years ago. I sniffed quietly - but as smokey as the room was, I couldn't smell the stale tobacco smell that I remember so well from years ago.

And yet, there it was - dancing around in the sunlight like the fog that seemed to be gripping my overheated brain.

I took a step closer and peered into the mirror - careful not to make a noise to give myself away. There was Joe's father, Joe Sr. - looking very young I have to say - kneeling on the bed in front of Joe's mother, Claire. His father had on dress pants and a starched white shirt with a tie. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I wondered why he'd be wearing a tie.

"I don't think I've seen him wear a tie in years," I thought to myself.

But wait, Joe's father looked so young and, well, fit. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of the white shirt. Joe's father looked deeply into a much younger version of Joe's mother's eyes, kneeling there in front of him. She was a knockout - I had to acknowledge with more than a bit of embarrassment - I mean she was sort of like a second mother to me. She had on a beautiful, if dated, yellow sundress. Her curly dark hair fell down to her shoulders.

Joe Sr. was reaching around Claire's narrow waist, running his broad hands up between her shoulder blades. The passion in his eyes was evident - not that his passion wasn't obvious elsewhere, too. I did a double take as I saw the massive bulge reaching up toward his beltline in his slacks. He leaned down and kissed Claire passionately - letting his lips lock into hers gently but insistently. She ran her hands up his chest, caressing his neck as their kiss continued.

She moved back a few inches - never breaking eye contact and slowly, but deliberately lifted her dress over her head. There she was, wearing an absurdly matronly bra and panties that should have made me laugh. But I wasn't laughing - I was too struck by the absolute beauty and perfection of her body. Her skin was so incredibly white and absolutely flawless.

Joe Sr. sighed deeply as he too took in the beauty before him.

"Don't talk," she whispered.

She moved closer and, having taken off his tie, began to unbutton his shirt - one button at a time. He stayed perfectly still, his hands at his sides as she pulled the shirt out of his pants and slid it down off of those broad shoulders. Then she pulled the bright white t-shirt over his head to reveal his tanned and very well-built chest.

She leaned down and began to lick his right nipple. Without warning, she sucked it into her mouth and bit down - not cruelly, but clearly showing that her passion was as great as his. He gasped, but didn't move.

She slowly moved her mouth down his incredible chest and across his stomach. The only hair he had on his upper body that I could see was a thin trail of hair starting at his navel and leading down. This appeared to be Claire's destination as she kissed and sucked across his quivering stomach - looks like Joe Sr. is ticklish - to his navel. Her tongue reached out and dug deep into his navel. He instinctively reached out to grab her head, but she easily pushed his hands away.

Her hot breath on his stomach was obviously driving him crazy. And despite myself, it was driving me crazy, too. I took one more cautious step closer to see better but I stumbled over the threshold and into the room. Of course, my embarrassment was colossal and I opened my mouth to apologize or to make an excuse - though I have no idea how I would explain this away.

You can imagine my surprise when I looked at the bed and saw - nothing. No Joe Sr, no Claire - not even a mussed up bedcovering. I shook my head in confusion. I was sure I saw them right there - in the mirror.

And there they were again - still - in the mirror. I looked from the mirror to the room and back. There were ONLY in the mirror. And they were oblivious to my presence in the room. No doubt because I was more IN the room than they were.

I stepped closer to the mirror and saw Claire reach for Joe's belt. She looked up at him as she slowly unbuckled the belt, and unbuttoned his pants. I could see another inch of that line of hair, leading down to his boxers now. She pushed his pants down over his very firm ass and then reached back around to the front where his boxers were clearly restraining a huge dick. She slid her fingernails down his shoulders, down his chest and stomach - making him jump with the intensity of it.

She slid her nails down under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them away and releasing the most beautiful dick I'd ever seen. Well to be honest, I haven't seen a lot of dicks, but for the one's I've seen, this was beautiful. She slowly parted her lips and slid his now pulsing cock into her mouth - her tongue clearly finding that most sensitive spot underneath and below the head.

He groaned and looked up to the ceiling - though whether he was looking to the heaven that he was so clearly finding himself in or just unable to hold his head up anymore for the wave of pleasure she was giving him, it wasn't clear.

She reached down between his legs and lightly scraped her nails from his hole to his balls, across his balls and up the full length of his dick, taking her mouth off just long enough to flick the tip with her nails.

He was clearly overwhelmed by the love that she was showing him and the sensations that she was creating in him. She obviously knew what he liked and intended to give it to him. She swallowed him again, and again, slowly but deliberately. Her tongue made love to his dick - the way his dick made love to her when he used it on her so well as he so often did. All while sucking him, she ran her nails lightly down the soft skin of his sides, trailing back onto his bare buttocks, down onto the backs of his thighs, always ending at his balls.

Each trip across his ballsack, brought them up closer to his body. His ecstasy mounted as she expertly probed each ridge and ripple of the silky smoothness of his manhood with her tongue.

Then from somewhere, a deep guttural sound began in him. His stomach muscles tightened. His hips pushed involuntarily forward. The flush of desire crept up his chest and neck. A grimace of ecstasy stretched the muscles of his face as he erupted into her mouth. She hummed a throaty sound of satisfaction as she drank down his seed. Pulse after pulse of passion flooded over him - pumping him dry.

As he eventually came back from the heaven he'd enjoyed, he looked down at her. She gazed up at him - his manhood still in her mouth. She let it plop out and smiled at him. She leaned up and he kissed her deeply and passionately.

Then, as I stood there watching what was clearly a most private and passionate moment, the smoke in the room - well in the mirror room - thickened and then dissipated, leaving nothing but my own reflection in the empty bedroom, my raging cock pressing against the inside of my jeans.

"What was that?" I said out loud to no one.