Cheenagur

Sitting at my vanity table, I stare hypnotised at the multiple reflections of my almost finished face. Frozen, with one eye completely blended in and the other still noticeably garish with distinct patches of copper and gold powder Cheenagurl, my Saturday night alter-ego is just so sensual and coyly available, I want her more than he does. I notice the glow spreading from her cheeks up into her hairline, down across her throat and beneath her high mandarin collar. I feel desire tugging at my nipples and wriggling in my tight little belly. Looking down, seeing the bold curve of my thigh and the neatness of my crossed knees, I know that I'm not just doing this for him. I love Cheenagurl too. It's taken me years to know that the doy butterfly in the mirror is me and that if I could reach through the glass, I'd do her as rapturously and joyously as he does. I'd hear my voice muffled by her golden thighs but it couldn't be because my mouth would be glued to her wet coral puki, my tongue too busy exploring her warm wet folds to make a sound. Enchanted by the idea, I glance at my watch and realise I've time to indulge myself...

Languidly, spellbound I stand. Hands in front of me grasping the back of my chair... Turning side on to the mirror, stretching, I push my chest out, admiring the outline of my bust though the black charmeuse, the arc of my back and the roundness of my derriere. My hand smoothes the slinky material in circles and I see and feel the breast filling its spread fingers. Slowly I tease down the zip under my arm watching the diagonal flap of material curl away from my breasts. Ah... the elegance and practicality of the qi pao, I slip my hand inside and cup a warm, lacy handful. Wistfully I think of strong hands around my waist. In my mind a softly, husky woman's voice... "It's feel good to you Naku? " She'd whisper before her tongue brushed my ear and her hand slipped lower. I'd twist sideways so her fingertips touched the bare skin above my stocking top, through the slit of my skirt and I'd hold my breath for a hot, wet eternity, waiting.

Alas the Genie of the mirror is inattentive and I'm alone so the hands that peel the cheongsam from my radiant skin are my own. Shedding it's black and turquoise pattern like an insect I let it fall into a warm pool at my ankles and step out of it. I study my reflection through narrowed eyes and lust after my doppelganger. The teddy clinging to my torso; as soft and revealing as gossamer, nipples creasing and darkening the soft fabric. I feel the subtle touch of desire growing until only a tiny corner of my mind is still functioning normally. I'm wet, breathless, the narrow gusset between my legs, suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Slowly I ease my thumbs under the fabric and taking a deep, deep breath, pushing out my susos, I snap the fasteners loose. Turning slowly I lift my pelvic floor, squeeze my thighs tight together and peering over my shoulder, admire the curve of my back.

I'm standing motionless, my mind floating, listening to each and every over-sensitised nerve ending in my body. All of them are whispering, "Do me, do me". My last rational thought, as I look into the sloe-eyed gaze of my reflection, is that I haven't finished my eye shadow. My fingers caress the contents of the top drawer, reaching behind the tray of cosmetic brushes and manicure stuff. I feel the soft rubbery outline of it and the loops of its wire. My hand closes, my pearl throbs and tingles, as I lift my little toy from it's hiding place.

I take a sip of tepid mineral water and sit knees apart on the end of the bed. Eyes closed I caress the vibrator, my fingertips tracing it's contours from end to end, feeling the soft nodules studding its slender shaft. Placing it on the bed, I feel a sharp new twist of desire as the sight of its fuchsia pink erection recalls previous rapturous encounters. As if from the fluttering pages of an erotic book, a fleeting image of her sitting nude at my vanity table, her sleek chamois toned body quivering and blushing as I stood behind her nibbling her ear and stroking her stiff berry-brown nipples. Gazing on her dreamy face in the mirror, watching her silken thighs quiver, knees pressing together as the waves of vibrations spiraled and echoed inside her. I wanted to make her scream with pleasure. I reached for the speed control and finding it already on max, inspiration took over: Straddling her, I sat on her lap, my fingers entwined in her thick straight hair, drawing her open mouth to mine, pressing my hot skin against hers. Whimpering she wrapped her arms around my waist and let me stick my tongue deep into her mouth, tongues circling around each other, teeth pulling at her swollen lips. breathing her breath, warm and smelling of vanilla. Grinding and humping against her satiny warmth, feeling her shudder and squirm, I knew she was coming, my senses choked with her scent and sounds and feel, I was too. I didn't know until afterwards, that my weight on her lap made her feel as if she was being fucked by something huge.

Reclining, my mind brimming with syrupy images, I unsnap my suspendies and shrug the straps of the teddy off my shoulders. Slowly, coaxing, kneading two big throbbing handfuls of myself, I slip casually into my reverie. Left hand fanning out across my breast, squeezing it delicately, fingers searching out the little variations in texture, feeling the swollen bulk behind the stiff nipple. The other rhythmically squeezing and sliding in the fragrant ooze between my thighs, occasionally squishing my swelling clitoris under fluttering fingertips until the waves of wanting grow too large.

My heart's beating so fast and yet I'm calm, languid because I'm going to fuck myself. Lazily I reach for my translucent pink toy, a slim wheat toned arm, extended across the oyster-grey satin sheets. The low voltage lighting picks out the wet sheen on my fingertips and throws a multitude of glints off the tiny golden hairs feathering my forearm. My fingers curl around the plaint shaft and guide it between my thighs. I let it dip into the velvet coral center of my consciousness... tiny trembling movements of my hand keep the studded shaft moving as my hips arch to engulf its undulating thickness. Icons of past pleasures swirl through my listless mind. A series of chaotic pictures, some past encounters, garishly enhanced, others imaginings I regularly revisit when the blood's pounding in my eardrums and my pulse is jumping at my wrists and in the junction of my thighs.

I push it in, feeling the dull pressure against the neck of my womb, the delicious tactile friction of the grained surface sliding in. Every nerve in my body sings in harmony as I thrust it raggedly in and out, each breath a small sob as the fancies take over.

Looking down on myself from a distant place I imagine you and me, I do my love. I'm pressed against the silver and black chequered velour of my sofa, one knee up on the arm. My black silk blouse is open my bra pulled up. One breast is squashed against the back of the sofa, the other is moving against the fabric of my blouse as you fuck me, the sensations on its stiff nipple are exquisitely intense. Ruined black tights and panties stretched between pale thighs, I'm screaming into the bunched up jacket of my cream L'estelle suit as your hands below the matching skirt, which is up around my waist, hold my hips tightly, pulling me back onto your cock. I'm writhing like an eel as you stand behind me, thrusting hard into me. I can feel the heat of your come as it spurts into me in long smooth jets.

I'm curled in a tight ball my thighs squeezed together with my hand between them rotating and pressing the purring vibrator into myself with my palm. The movie of you and me is frozen in my head as the pleasure peaks and ebbs into a soft-diffusing glow.