tagRomanceMirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror


The silk blindfold teased her skin laying softly on her cheeks -- wrapped loosely around her head. Nancy knew where her husband had led her hand-in-hand -- to their bedroom. But there was more to this night. He had greeted her in just his robe she had given him as an anniversary present.

Shimmering light sparkled against her face. He had lit a few black-cherry scented candles -- that much she could tell by the sweet aroma pleasing her sense of smell. The music of Sting -- her favorite male singer -- quietly rang into her ears. Rich had never been a fan of Sting, but apparently he was wanting to make her happy in a variety of ways.

Like an artist working with a delicate sculpture, Rich gently removed his wife's business shoes and her nylons. He kissed her feet and ankles, the long hair on his head brushing against her legs like feathers. Rich picked up his bride of four years and laid her down onto a plush comforter.

"That's new," she smiled, her arms extending like a snow angle to feel the soft fabric. "What's the occasion, Rich?"

"Shhhhh," he requested placing an index to her lips. "Sit Indian style," he asked.


He continued to work with her like priceless art. He sat in back of her, wrapping his arms to the front buttons of her blouse. He delicately slide the buttons through the holes in the soft fabric of her shirt, sliding the sleeves off her arms. She sat facing away from him in a peach lace bra that encased her beautiful breasts and made her that much more alluring. It made him need the touch of her bare flesh more as he worked her lace trappings off with his lips. Rich's teeth gripped onto the back of her bra strap and unclipped the Victoria's Secret using his mouth, kissing her spine as the garment fell off her arms.

He got off the bed for a moment and she looked toward him.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhhhh," he asked again.

She heard the steady whump-whump-whump of their ceiling fan slowing start rotating, and the flickering lights of the candles through the silk blindfold seemed to bounce on-and-off as the downforce of the created wind reached them. Rich sat behind his bride again. She heard him rubbing his hands together, and then he touched her back with massage oil. His hands pushed deep against her back and shoulders. She moaned in pleasure.

"Let's take this off," he breathed in her ear. His mouth gripped the loose knot of the blindfold while his hands moved around her waist and he pressed his lotioned palms to her abdomen and took her breasts in his hands.

As the blindfold fell to her shoulders, she was surprised to be gazing into the candlelit eyes of a very beautiful but very naked woman who was also being massaged. She inhaled in intimidation and shyness until she realized she was looking into the gaze of herself. Her husband had brought seven or eight large mirrors into their bedroom and the warm illumination of the twenty lit candles made her feel as if she was in the romantic scene of the most romantic movie.

Rich's eyes looked over her shoulders to look at his love in the mirror as his hands stroked her chest, shoulders and waist with the massage oil. He applied it to her supple flesh, enjoying every inch his hands roamed over. Her skin was his canvas, the lotion his paint, her smile the masterpiece he wanted to create.

"What are you doing," she asked.

"Loving my love," Rich exhaled.

"Where did you get all these ..."

"Shhhhhh," he requested again. He stood again and returned to her legs. He pulled her dress from her hips and applied more massage oil to his hands. Rich pushed his hands and palms against her lower legs and then her upper legs, massaging. In a tender move, he pulled her panties from her legs and continued coaxing the muscles of her legs. He kissed her left knee, then right, then traced his tongue like a downhill skier negotiating a taunt slope of her inner thighs -- tasting the proof of her arousal.

As he orally loved his wife, he maintained the motions of his hands -- rubbing her legs and hips with his fingers.

Nancy looked to her right and to her left -- more mirrors giving her more angles. Above her, another mirror had been attached to the couples' ceiling -- above the fan. Around it, glowing green stars like the ones she had stuck to her dormroom ceiling while an undergraduate student -- when she first met Rich.

She strained her neck and saw another mirror in back of her as she watched her husband please her. It was vulgar-yet-erotic, obscene-yet-beautiful. The Victorian age morals that were pushed into her subconscious asked her to close her eyes, but her own beliefs suffocated the conservative dogmas. Nancy's husband was loving her, and she moaned her approval -- a noise that scared away any fire-and-brimstone fears.

"Make love to me," she asked. His tongue slowed and he cascaded it up her waist, kissing her breast and neck before returning his lips to her soft kiss. She pulled at his loose robe which fell to their side. His hardness penetrated her body. Teasingly, slowly. He rolled over from the missionary style so she could ride on his body -- it was her favorite position. Nancy's hands rest on Rich's chest as she rose as fell like waves in the couple's unity. The Sting compact disc whirled away through two love songs and an upbeat ditty called "Nothin' About Me."

The sexuality and sensuality of the lovemaking was rare. Rich and Nancy were both very sexual, but between work stress and long days, most sessions were enjoyable-but-quick. Riding him before sleeping, or enjoying a doggy-style quickie in the kitchen when returning home.

This was not one of those sessions. This was special. She leaned herself back as she rode him. She looked up and watched the mirror above them, lit by candlelight -- two lovers loving. Nancy pulled herself off his hardness for a moment, straightening out her legs so the were between Rich's arms and chest. She leaned all the way back in a position they hadn't enjoyed in a year -- figure 8.

Leaning all the way back, her body grasping onto her husband's manhood, both lovers stretching their bodies from each-other. She watched above her -- the scene was like a porn-movie her friends watched joking around one night in college. But again it wasn't. The two people in the mirror were in love. She saw Rich lick two fingers and his thumb. He reached between her legs and massaged her clit. She climaxed -- and climaxed again on her love. Sweating and breathing hard, she pulled herself back up her lover, steadily enjoying as he continued to push into her.

Nancy rolled to her side. Her turn to please him in his favorite position -- her on her side, Rich entering her from ontop, but almost in a doggy-type style. Another position they hadn't enjoyed in a year. She enjoyed it more than doggy-style ... the position gave both the sensation of doggy-style, but also allowed for intimacy as Rich leaned down and kissed his wife's lips. He leaned down, kissing her and whispering sweet-nothings into her ear, his breath caressing her neck like a warm wind on a prairie land.

He made love faster and harder over a period of two more Sting songs. Then his moans became more guttural as he started losing his ability to speak English. Nancy groaned and gripped against the new comforter as she felt her husband's orgasm streaming into her depths. She was staring at her image as she climaxed in the sensations overtaking her soul.

Rich's cheek rested against hers as he professed his forever love for his wife. She smiled like a schoolgirl in love. They cuddled and spooned. As their sexuality disconnected, their fingers intertwined.

"So is it okay to ask what you are doing? What the occasion is, love? It's not our anniversary," she smiled.

"Have to know?" he grinned.

"I'm curious."

He pulled a tattered journal from their nightstand and opened it to a bookmarked page. His journals were something she never looked at -- she was curious, but always respected the concept of inner-though privacy.

"Go ahead. Read."

The bookmarked page was dated seven years earlier -- when both were college students.

Exactly seven years earlier. To the day.

It read: "Mirror, mirror on the wall, life is strange -- that is all. Today I met the most amazing girl -- no, not girl -- woman. I have never, ever felt this way. She's ... I don't know ... I hope she is always in my life. Maybe as a friend ... maybe as my wife."

He clutched her body close to his and kissed her neck again as she snuggled against him.

"Why 'Mirror, mirror'?" Nancy asked.

"Because that's where I saw you first -- in that mirror in our art course."

She remembered Rich mentioning that before, and smiled again. The music faded, the candles faded, the air from the fan faded. All that remained was their love and friendship.

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