The Other Side of the Mirror Pt. 02

Part 2 - Simon

Simon stood before the mirror in his room. Frankly he was admiring himself. He was not interested in other men, though he would have admired a fine erection and would enjoy watching, as much as the next man, a friend's penis working a girl. Not interested in men but he could happily admire his own erection and naked body. It did stand well and was certainly nothing to be ashamed of. He turned from one side to the other. It did have a fine curve up to its big exposed head. Upon its very tip a wetness, a leakage. Well, he had been masturbating on his bed for over an hour, reading a very stimulating book and stroking himself. It had been enjoyable, but he was going to want to cum soon and release that tension in his balls. They were certainly drawn up tight. But not too soon, he was enjoying the wanking and was in no hurry to finish, and that was why he had got up and taken a walk across his bedroom.

If only there was a girl there to play with. A girl there to touch, romp with, play with her boobs and wet bits, perhaps sink his penis into her sex: though, what he would really like would be to be sucked off. He stroked a bit, imagining a girl kneeling and soft warm lips enveloping his knob and holding him at the junction of glans and shaft, the girl holding him firmly with her lips as her tongue flicked...

Fuck! He had almost come - again. He yanked his hand away and stood with penis bobbing up and down and his breathing a little ragged. Almost, almost. From where he was standing, if he had come, he would have splattered the mirror.

Perhaps he might do that. A bit of a mess but, but it would be at least interesting to see his cock or rather his mirror image spurting at him - if he kept his eyes open - twin penises spurting at each other, their spurts perfectly meeting in mid-air at the plane of the mirror. That, though, raised the actual idea of being naked and erect in a room with another bloke and the two of them wanking together, perhaps sharing a girlie mag. or just discussing girls and sex. Peculiar doing that but... failing the girl and her warm mouth it might be better than just a solitary wank - not that he had not enjoyed his solo work and would enjoy the climax. Would they, he wondered, in the end, swap hands and close their eyes and imagine it was a girl, not another bloke, bringing them off? Simon could not but think another hand would feel good. Interesting - at least - to feel another cock.

He could not see himself sucking another bloke's cock, however nice it would really be to feel warm lips around his own but, but... Simon stepped forward touching his knob to the cool glass making it look like his knob was touching another identical penis in front of him. He rubbed making the smooth, but not cold glass a little smeared. What would it be like rubbing his cock against another cock? It could be a very male thing to do - a competitive thing - who could bring the other off first? Who would still be standing when the other cock dropped down limp, defeated and ejaculated. Would the defeated have to suck the other off? A forfeit for the loser, again, very male - the idea of forfeit, not the sucking. But, perhaps not! He might lose, after all...

But, fuck - wouldn't he like to be sucked off now! Oh, for a girl, a pretty girl, with full lips and a wriggling tongue! Simon pressed his cock hard against the glass, rubbing a little. He really did want to cum. But not yet. To have a girl there ready to suck and, probably rather quickly, receive. Unfortunately, there was not - just him and his cock pressed against the mirror glass. There was, even for him, a sexuality about seeing his cock seemingly pressed against another - admittedly remarkably similar - cock. Simon pressed harder, closing his eyes, imagining himself pressing his cock against another cock, hardness to hardness, glans to glans, fraenum to fraenum, and then - fuck he was right up close to himself, as if he was pressing against the other imagined boy in an over close embrace.

Huh?

What had happened? He could not be this close, his stomach and thighs pressed against the cool glass. It could not be - his cock was in the way. Simon opened his eyes in trepidation, with his forehead against the glass. What the f...? He pulled back but found his cock stuck. His eyes widened as he looked down. Somehow, impossibly his cock had gone right through the glass. It and his balls were the other side of the glass. He could see it there, the mirror image of his cock gone, his own sticking through the other side of the glass into the mirror image of his room. He stood frozen feeling the close embrace of glass all around the base of his cock and behind his balls - a tight embrace. Somehow the glass had seemingly broken, and he had pushed through. He was terrified. Simon could feel glass all around his shaft but what... what if it was sharp? He could cut himself or worse, fully castrate himself. Step back with his penis and balls severed from his body, his parts left through the glass, blood spurting and leaving him with... nothing but a little pee hole a bit like a girl but with nothing else - neither girl nor boy - plastic surgery and just a smooth nothingness. The thought terrifying and awful.

But it could not be. Glass did not give way or break like that and, as he stared into the glass at his reflection, his image began to disappear and there walking towards him in the reflection of his bedroom, a reflection no longer showing him but just his penis and balls undoubtedly sticking through into the reflection, was a girl. A lovely looking girl, dark haired with full breasts and large brown areolae, a pleasing, yet light sprinkling of dark hair to that so cuppable mound between her thighs. Such fine legs and a pretty enough face. A girl walking towards him and his imprisoned cock. A so much better image and thought than being pressed cock to cock against another boy. A visual treat for any man or boy, the sort of thing to cause an instant erection - if not already erect. The girl was licking her lips. It was so obvious what her intention was.

It was unreal, it had to be, but the girl was so clear, so very real to his eyes. Was he dreaming? The way she knelt below him, the way she smiled and, again, licked her lips seemed a real experience and then the undoubted wet, warm touch of those lips to his trapped penis was not simply visual but very sensory.

He knew who it was. He recognised her. It was Alice, the girl who had disappeared. Was he dreaming? Why was he dreaming of her? He had, after all, only spoken to her once or twice. Why her, something awful could have happened to her and so it was just not right to be dreaming of her in this way - in this sexual way? Why was it not that unobtainable Emma Wheeler or some other girl?

Simon had most certainly been thinking of girls in a sexual way, had most definitely wished to be sucked off but... this? Below him Alice's lips were around his penis doing just what he wanted. He was torn between pleasure and fright. It all felt - the sucking, the tonguing, the sliding lips - so very real: so just what he had been wanting moments before. Alice or not, he could not but react to the touch. He had been masturbating for over an hour, had brought himself almost to ejaculation again and again, he was as primed as anything and it did not really take that much to tease him over the line.

So good to come like that, not over his stomach, but in the mouth of a girl as he felt and saw her lips and tongue drawing the semen from him. To feel her gently still tonguing him after ejaculation and only letting his penis go when he had subsided. To see the underside of her tongue as she stroked her top lip with its tip as she rose. Simon pulled back and felt his penis and balls slipping back through the glass.

He stood stock still watching the girl walking away into the reverse facsimile of his room and then she was gone. Simon sat back on his bed unsure what to think. Had he been dreaming - it did not feel like it; had her really experienced what he thought he had - certainly he had come and certainly his semen was nowhere to be seen; was that really Alice Compton?

Simon worried about what had happened all the next day, not so much worried about the lovely conclusion to his masturbation but the girl in the mirror being Alice Compton. It made him feel guilty about imagining her - if he had imagined. Yet, unsurprisingly, the night time found Simon standing naked once more in his bedroom not reading his book or looking at a particular type of magazine but looking at the big full-length mirror on his wall and remembering the night before. As Simon remembered, so too did his penis recall what had happened, as he watched it slowly rose, jerking up below him and also in the reflection in his mirror. Should he do the same again, press his penis against the glass, against his own reflection and hope Alice came again - and made him come?

His image wavered and was gone. Instead there was a girl in the reverse of his room, as clear as anything. Simon whipped his head around, expecting to see the real girl behind him in his room, the one he could see in the reflection: but there was no one there, just him, naked and erect in his darkened room. Alone, except for the girl walking towards him in the mirror, a girl who was certainly not Alice Compton, a quite different girl, pale and with such white skin and such blond hair; tall and willowy, not completely naked but with the merest wisp of gauze around her body hiding very little. She was smiling at him, her eyes alternating between his face and his erection, rather as his own eyes were flicking from her undoubtedly fine, rather aristocratic, face to the rest of her body, eyes lingering on her round breasts and the fine, fair down that covered her mons veneris and partially hid her feminine divide.

It felt and appeared just as it had all been the night before but with a completely different girl. Simon was puzzled but his mind was much more occupied with the sexual situation than worrying very much about the circumstances. Such a look of sexual interest and sexuality from the girl as if she was already aroused. Simon was not going to try and puzzle out what had dropped into his lap or, rather, into his mirror; he was a young man with 'raging' hormones and this was so much more stimulating and satisfying than finding a secret stash of 'girly' magazines. Once again, he pressed his erection to the glass and felt it slip through, presenting himself to the girl; only this time he raised his hands and found he could push them through the limited resistance of the so plastic glass. Like his penis he could see them on the other side of the glass reaching, of course, for the girl's chest. He had not touched a girl's breasts before.

Such smooth fullness in his hands. A gentle moving of his fingertips, feeling where the girl's breasts curved to her chest whilst the points of her nipples pushed at the centre of his palms. A slight lift as he felt their weight and then his fingertips were sliding, moving up the twin breasts, seeking to come together and hold those nipples. Simon's eyes flicked from the girl's face to his hands whilst, below, him the sexual stimulation of touching the girl made his penis stand the firmer. Between his fingers and her skin, the lightest of gauze, hardly there, but just enough to give the impression he was touching her through clothing.

Below, her hands reached, drawing the gossamer feel of the gauze over the sensitive skin of his penis, not yet touching but lightly brushing it, the soft gauze caressing and stimulating. Again, his hands spread out over the soft skin of her breasts as he enjoyed his first feel. Between her lips her tongue appeared, a little poking, pink thing moving slowly from side to side, inviting him forward to touch her lips with his own. Simon pushed with his face against the glass, again that plastic feel, not hard but not quite jelly and, like his hands, he pushed through with his face. He had been inches from her face before but without the glass between them it felt closer. She smiled, and her tongue moved again across her lips as he leant in closer and touched them with his own.

Below, the girl continued to move the gauze, ever so lightly, across his penis. He felt the touch of her tongue on his own. Such sensitive organs. Tongue then lips and a kiss, not a chaste brush of the lips but a pushing softness against his own and then the tongue, her tongue, within his mouth, wriggling and exploring. His hands squeezed the girl's breasts, toyed with her nipples whilst all the while the soft, gossamer of the gauzy wrap stroked his penis.

Simon was a young man, a young man inexperienced with women, a young man not at all used to another touching his penis, a young man with an easy erection and plentiful semen but a young man with perhaps rather more of an easy trigger than an older man would be. It was going to happen, far too soon. Simon knew it, Simon felt it coming and there was nothing he could do about it. Had it been his own hand, had he been stroking himself with the material he would have stopped short of going too far. He would have 'edged,' keeping himself very much aroused but not too aroused: the girl, though, had simply been stroking him, delightfully stroking him with the gauze, without knowledge of quite how far she had taken him.

Down below, Simon's straining, swollen erection twitched, the gauze that had been gently brushing the shaft, even slipping over the wrinkled skin of his scrotum, but now it brushed right over the domed end, across the opening and, as it did so, it did not merely catch a light dripping of seminal leakage but the full force of the commencement of Simon's ejaculation: the full force of a young man's capable spurting. It not only spurted onto the gossamer like gauze but forced itself through the fine mesh. Within the girl's mouth Simon's tongue stabbed in time with the pulses of his ejaculation, his hands squeezed hard upon the mounds in his hands. An exquisite, ecstatic feeling, all too soon over and, really, far too soon started as well.

The girl knew what had happened, knew as it was happening. A pout on her face as she drew back, a look of playful disapproval but with a wink she looked down at what had happened. The penis sticking through the glass was still dribbling; upon the gauze splashes of translucent ejaculate; the girl raised the almost garment for him to see what he, or rather his penis, had done. It was so obvious, so very clear what had happened! And then, with a strange eroticism, she re wrapped herself in the material, a wrapping that did nothing to hide her beautiful and so feminine body, but so the splashes of semen were across her breasts, the smooth flesh becoming moist in places with it and sticking to the material, a nipple, hard and erect, actually bathed in the warm fresh semen. An image Simon could have done nothing but erect to had he not already been erect - the cause indeed of the wetness.

Slowly the girl moved backwards and with an effort, Simon pulled himself back through the glass, head and hands first and lastly his subsiding penis, the glass seeming already to be gaining solidity; in pulling at his genitalia he felt his balls being pulled upwards towards the shaft of his penis, and then, with a tug, the whole assembly came through as if being pulled through a slightly flexible but still rather too small hole. Within the glass, the image of the beautiful girl faded.

The next night he was hoping to see the fair girl again, though he would have been as happy to see Alice. Excited by the prospect of sex within his mirror once more; he had hardly been able to get through the day whilst thinking about what the night might bring; the hours had gone past so slowly until finally he had been able to climb the stairs to bed, throw off his clothes, shower and then stand expectantly before the mirror, completely naked and with his young erection already to his front. A fine picture of young, aroused human male.

Simon stood, not quite admiring himself, his eyes were focused not really upon his body but further back into the mirror hoping to see another figure, a feminine figure. He was disappointed at first but only for a few moments. It was neither the girl with the gauze nor Alice but yet another girl. Simon wondered how many girls there were in his mirror, what variety was he being offered?

This time it was a dark girl with hair looking short but actually done up in a bun; not dark of skin but in her hair both to her head and in the full triangle down below; a fine-looking young woman looking, to Simon, not a modern girl but as if she came from an earlier time. It was the hair or perhaps the way she walked. He should, perhaps, have been self-conscious standing there naked and erect as a stranger walked towards him, and a young woman at that, but already he was finding the sexual enjoyment of his mirror becoming familiar, if not exactly 'normal.' The girl was no more dressed than he was. As his own image faded and he stared into the mirror room he pushed himself forward, touching the glass with his upstanding penis, pushing it through for the girl, offering his maleness to her. He was sure she would not reject it. Alice and the other girl had hardly done that!

What excitement to stand expectantly as she neared him, what would she do. Her breasts were larger than the fair-haired girl, her nipples upturned and her areolae dark. There was movement to her breasts as she walked, a swaying from side to side. Most erotic to the young man. She half turned, her left knee coming up a little coyly to part hide her mons veneris. Surely, she was not shy? Surely it was an act? It came to Simon that her breasts reminded him of puppy dog noses, the shape with a greater diameter to the profiled breasts beneath than above gave that sort of shape to her, not rounded hemispheres like the other girl but the nipples somehow seeming like the upturned noses of keen puppies, anxious to be doing things. They were not yet wet: Simon rather wished to make them wet. Again, he pushed his face through the glass, would she let him suckle?

The girl reached with her hands and lifted her breasts as she stepped forward, bringing them up towards Simon as he pulled his head downwards towards them. So good to touch a nipple with his lips, so good to mould them around the hard, little knob, catch it with his tongue and then suck it and take some of her breast into his mouth. The girl moved her breasts, offering him first one and then the other. Simon was greedy in his sucking, it was a new experience and one he was happy to repeat.

And as he sucked the second nipple, he felt a hand on his penis. Not this time through gossamer like gauze or just the touch of the material, but a warm feminine hand clasping and stroking. First one hand and then two. Such pleasure to have his skin touched, his foreskin moved by hands other than his own. Fingers moving with purpose.

And then she was moving, pulling her breast from his mouth and crouching down. So obvious what she was going to do. Alice had done it and now a second girl was going to suck. How often had he fantasised about Harriet Russell or Emma Wheeler, imagined them doing that to him as he knew Harriet did to Dominic Trew. Why could not girls do that as a matter of course? He had had that thought when at school. Why could it not be a normal thing after say games or PE? The girls and boys brought together after showering, both sexes naked and perhaps still a little damp and the girls being allocated a boy to suck off. OK, perhaps the boys did the girls first. Or even supervised copulation, a different pairing each week - or day. Getting all that sexual frustration out of the way, getting it out of the system - and indeed getting all that semen out of the boys' aching balls! It had all been so annoying, disappointing and frustrating for Simon and others not to have a girl or boyfriend and be stuck imagining and using their own hands when they could have been enjoying the real thing. Why not just a helpful girl next door or something... but was not his mirror exactly that?