My Missing Valentine

It doesn't end all at once. Something that big can't. It departs by stages, leaving me half gasping, half laughing in a happiness too big to hold in. Pete smiles at me, enjoying the moment he has just given me. The face in the mirror looks back limply, happily bedraggled, and I smile at the knowledge that the beautiful woman is still filled inside.

Beautiful? Did I really say that? I look again. Beautiful. Yes, that is the word. Then I see Sara, too. This time, the beauty stays. I don't dare take my eyes off the image, afraid that the beauty will go away. I need to take the toy out, though, or I'll be sore. I feel each bulge pass, then the end of it, but a little of the open feeling remains. I wipe the dildo dry with a silly shyness about the picture or mirror seeing me do it - I'll clean it later. Then I lie down again and look in the mirror.

Sara is still beautiful. I don't know how it happened, but I see something in the mirror I have never seen before. Is that what Pete sees when he looked at me? It certainly matches his description, those words I always figured for loving little fibs. The magic remains.

I was afraid the magic would die alone, on this day by myself. Instead, I know it will live forever. Thank you, Pete, for giving me me.