The Other Side of the Mirror Pt. 02

The touch of the girl's lips so wonderful, slipping up the skin of his penis, taking it into her mouth. Feeling both warmth and wetness as she moved her lips upon it, her head moving forwards and backwards. And then came the touch of her tongue, so gently stroking the smooth skin within her mouth. His hands pushed through the glass to first stroke her hair and then touch her breasts. Utter delight, what he had been thinking about all day now happening, and with the unexpected pleasure of a different girl. All so real yet within the confines of the mirror in his bedroom, so strange yet so wonderful.

Almost coming, almost but not quite, Simon reached and lifted the girl's chin upwards pulling her mouth from his penis up and up towards his own. Yesterday he had kissed the fair-haired girl, today he wanted to kiss this dark-haired young woman. Yesterday the initiative had been with the girl but how much could he control the sexual activity; how much was this dreamlike pleasure under his control?

Simon brought the girl upwards and touched her soft lips with his own, his tongue going from between his lips across and pushing between hers. There was hardly any resistance to his penetration, his tongue slipped into her mouth and her tongue was mobile, snaking around his own. With his hand he touched not her breast but the dark vee of curls he had seen. They were springy to the touch, soft and pleasing, little different from his own hair but, without the penis, there was a so much greater expanse; so good to feel the bouncy thicket of pubic hair, to mould it in his hand and cup the warm softness of her bush. His wet and aroused penis twitched at what he was feeling, his excitement intense as he curled a finger and felt down for that little valley, that feminine slit that partly bifurcated the skin over the pubic bone, that little valley which leads to a deeper valley, a valley Simon knew by reputation, a damp and secret valley he was anxious to explore. His finger slid downwards.

So wet, so much wetter than expected, a girl clearly turned on and sexually excited. He felt the button of her clitoris almost before anything else - the wrong order entirely he knew from what he had talked about with other boys and read. His fingers should find that last of all but there, as hard as her nipples was undoubtedly that structure, that tiny thing analogous to his own comparatively enormous penis. His fingers moved, widening her lips, stroking their smooth fullness, feeling how slick they were with moisture, slippery, almost tactile moisture. And then he found his fingers were unobstructed, that he could push with their tips and move upwards into her body. He could feel her shaking as he did so, an added pleasure in knowing he was giving pleasure. A delight at the same time to feel her hand return to his penis and slide.

Mutual masturbation, not separately but together. Such a pleasant thing to do. The double pleasure of fingering the girl whilst, in turn, being fingered. Lovely too, to feel the girl shake in orgasm and know he had made her do that; and then to follow on, almost immediately, as the girl brought him off, her fingers sliding rhythmically and delightfully up and down his penis bringing on the inevitable spurting. So good to have his fingers inside the girl, bunched and pushing, simulating the act of sexual intercourse, whilst his penis spurted freely as he too shuddered in pleasure. So good to see, when the girl stepped back, his semen on both her fingers and all over and in her dark curls - his semen! His stuff on a girl, a girl who was a stranger, a naked girl whom he had just brought off and who had made him come as well. He raised his own hand, now no longer between the girl's smooth thighs and saw how wet his fingers were. His wetness on her fingers, her wetness on his. Back through the glass he brought his hands and there before him the evidence of what he had been doing, his fingers sliding wetly together and to his nostrils the scent of an aroused young woman. A heady scent to a man.

Already though the girl was retreating back into the mirror image of his room. She too raised her own hand and licked. Such a lovely smile, such pretty lips with just the tip of her tongue showing through, a tip with his semen upon it - and it was gone, into her mouth. He too stepped backwards away from the mirror and brought a finger to his lips and tasted the girl just as she faded from sight. One moment taste and scent, the next nothing. It was as if she had never been. Simon stood looking at himself in the mirror. A naked young man with shrinking penis. The evidence of his recent ejaculation was there at its end and so was the feeling of recent orgasm in his head. He watched his foreskin roll of its own accord up his knob hiding the evidence. It had all been real enough. Simon had not merely been fantasising about a young, dark haired woman. There were not streaks of ejaculate all over the mirror. That had disappeared as much as the young woman, into the mirror.

So annoying for Simon to be away from home for two days, away from the sexual satisfaction of his mirror. There was worry in his head that it might not happen again when he returned. It was an unnecessary worry. As he stood once more naked before his mirror with his penis raised, he saw Alice Compton in his mirror seemingly behind him. His reflection there in the mirror, him naked and erect in the foreground, she behind him near the wall, standing there in all her naked, feminine beauty. It was as if she really was there. He even turned almost expecting her to be present there in his room. The idea of her really being there, naked, available and wanting to couple, so pleasing. To be able to roll together on the bed, sleep together and do the same all over again in the morning. To empty his hard penis into her... But she was not there, there was nobody else in the room with him: he was alone. Naked, erect but alone.

Yet, when he turned back to his mirror, there she was and there he was, but as she stepped forward, one pretty thigh in front of the other he faded so there was only Alice in the mirror room and he in his real bedroom. Her eyes on his penis, his upon her dark triangle, their eyes on the differences between the sexes. Simon knew what he wanted to do. If Alice sucked him that would all be well and good, but what he really wanted was to join their sexes together, insert his hard penis into her dark hair and find that special place, enter it and spurt.

Closer she came. So clearly Alice Compton but her face did not betray worry, concern or fear as to why she was within the mirror. Simon could not understand why - why any of it -but his desire for sex was not affected by the puzzle. He spoke but she did not seem to hear, just looked down at his erection from the other side of the glass. Once more he pushed with the rigid flesh at the glass and once more it gave way allowing him through. Alice smiled. It was a smile of pleasure, of lust. Her hand reached and with finger and thumb she slowly retracted the foreskin right back. It had not gone by its own accord but now Alice did the sliding, exposing the corona and the encircling indentation behind. With the tip of her finger she ran it right around the indentation, such a sexual act and such an intense feeling for Simon.

Once again Alice dropped to her knees and held his penis before her as she stared at it. Then she began to wank it, ever so slowly but wanking nonetheless, all the while staring at it. He wondered if she was going to make him come all over her face and hair, perhaps wanting to look down the barrel of his 'gun' when it went off, see the sexual fluid being projected right at her. Was that something girls would find exciting? Simon did not know, he had not had opportunity to ask a girl about what she found stimulating or not. Was it the kissing and cuddling they really liked rather than the more mechanical, biological processes that fascinated him?

But her mouth came forward and her lips opened as she absorbed his knob, holding him with her lips at the very point she had encircled him with her finger. His knob in her mouth but no more than that. A stillness without, Simon standing there, Alice simply kneeling but her tongue very mobile. Exquisite. And then a slow sliding down his cock taking more and more of it into her mouth.

Simon shook his head. What a wonder he had discovered. What a thing to have available to him every night. Alice's mouth and those of the other girls as well, their hands and breasts, their bodies and... surely all would be available? A few strokes up and down his penis and then Alice stood up and turned, turned so her bottom was before him, so when she moved a little backwards, he felt her skin on the wet knob of his penis. Simon saw it as an invitation, it seemed to be meant that way. He reached through the glass with his hands and held her hips, one hand either side of her bottom on her warm flesh. He could feel her hip bone underneath, could hold her firmly and draw her towards him as he pressed his penis into the warm crack of her bottom. Such an excitement to stand with a woman like that and see her bend herself away from him, plant her legs a little further apart and giving him access, access to her sex, access to copulate. Simon was about to find out what sexual intercourse was like for real - if having sex with a real girl the other side of a strangely plastic mirror could be real in any way.

A dipping of his own hips and the knob of his penis, already wet from Alice's mouth, was bathed in the soft wet warmth of Alice's pudenda, her genitalia wet and ready to receive a penis - or penises even. It felt wet enough to take male genitalia after male genitalia, a whole queue of male organ's wishing to release their semen in a warm, wet, furry place. Simon tugged at her hips pulling her soft bottom closer to him. Now where was it, where was that entrance? He moved his hips, moved his penis and all at once he was sliding inwards, sliding up easily into her body, his penis entering and disappearing inside. He had done it, and did it not feel good!

Simon slid, Simon slid too much and fell out, Simon tried again, Simon fucked - he fucked properly; Simon paused, Simon moved again, Simon edged; too exciting of course for a young virgin man, too exciting by far, too stimulating, just too good being lodged in Alice's vagina; and probably, far too soon, Simon came slap, slap, slapping against her bottom.

He slowed and stopped and held the girl tight to him - or at least her bottom - and when he released, she did not straightway walk back into the mirror but turned and, once more, got to her knees and suckled upon his penis, his dribbling and wet from her penis. A smile up at him, a so sexual running of tongue over lips and then she up again and was walking away from him, her buttocks rising and falling in that so sexual, attractive to the male way, as she looked back at him over her shoulder. Simon pulled his shrinking penis back through the mirror and watched as Alice faded and his own naked form came into view. He shook his head. What a thing to have 'on tap,' could he perhaps do the same all over again in an hour. He knew he should really be going to sleep but the idea of doing that again...

And he did - and it was not the same girl!

The next night he wondered what would happen to the room in the mirror if he changed his own room. He placed a chair right up next to the mirror, so it faced it and then stood behind it, his penis resting on its back and, unsurprisingly really, in the mirror was the reverse image of his own room complete with his penis resting on the back of the reflected chair. He watched the mirror image of his penis grow and as he did so into the mirror came the fair-haired girl, so beautifully naked and so sexual. As she walked forward his image faded leaving just the girl - and the chair. She rested her hands on the back of the chair where his penis had been and looked from his face to his penis to the chair and then looked up with an amused smile and an inquiring look. Simon pulled his own chair out of the way of the mirror but that did not cause the mirror chair to move. How peculiar! On the contrary, the girl pulled it a little back and sat down upon it, her knees up against the glass, and then she slowly raised her knees upwards and hooked their crooks over the arms of her chair, opening the gap between her legs as she did so. Such a wonderful sight to Simon, the girl fully exposed. Very much 'what little girls are made of.' He bent, reached through the glass and pulled the legs of the chair closer and, of course, the girl's sex closer.

It was yet something else he had imagined doing. Being so close to a girl's sex that he could touch it with his lips. Simon pushed his face into the glass and towards the girl's open sex. Such a sight, everything to be seen. Her lovely fair bush, her divide peeking through, her vagina, pee hole, lips, clitoral hood, clitoris - anatomical, gynaecological, sexual. And it all looked so shiny and wet. Were these girls in the mirror permanently aroused? He touched and then rather buried his face in the wet, scented flesh, almost overcome with lust and sexual desire. Beneath him his penis was hard and throbbing as his tongue and lips lapped and explored. He reached beneath her thighs and pulled her towards him as he delved with his tongue as far as he could go.

Simon was surprised to find, when he pulled back, to see the girl's sex had come through the mirror. Just, really, the mounded sex, the open outer lips there with their sprinkling of fair hair and all that they protected open and visible. That so important part of a woman in the room with him and available for his 'use.'

Dreadful really, what Simon had found to assuage his lusts, but there was no way he was going to go all moral. He stood there looking down, quivering with excitement as he saw the girl reach, push her hand with difficulty through the mirror and take his penis in hand, lowering and lining it up with her vagina. He did not push but she pulled, and he was inside. So good to see it happening, see his knob at her entrance and then pushing in, sliding so easily and so warmly into her. He could not help it. The excitement of his first taste of a woman, his first oral intimacy had got him too excited. His second act of sexual intercourse - and with a different young woman! Actually, seeing the act of penetration, being guided by a warm hand all sent to many signals to his brain and the procreative act just happened - spurt, spurt, spurt - too quickly.

Of course, Simon mused on why and how Alice Compton was 'in' the mirror, upon the impossibility of it all. Could she not get back through the mirror? The very next time he found it was Alice in the mirror he tried pulling her into the room with him. Not just pulling her sex through as he had found he could do with the fair girl but the young woman entire. She had turned so easily for him, so easily offering her bottom to him, so clearly inviting sexual intercourse. Simon tried so hard pulling at her hips even as his penis was inside her, pulling her back through the mirror. He pulled her as he fucked her, tugging at her hips, pulling her back against him, not thrusting at her but pulling her onto his cock. He had brought her bottom through into the room with him as he fucked. Her bottom, her hips, even her thighs and almost tummy but it became harder and harder the more he pulled from the mirror. He knew with dreadful certainty it was simply not going to happen though, for him there was something special about having much of the naked girl in his bedroom rather than the other side of the mirror. The sound of the slap, slap, slap of naked flesh on naked flesh. Wonderful to pull a warm bottom and smooth thighs through the mirror and be able to fuck the so warm and so wet sex, have a girl's sexual bits so real and available to him out of the mirror.

He had tried to get her back, tried to pull Alice back into the real world. He could not, though, do it. It was not going to happen. There was nothing he could do about it. He had done the right thing, the moral thing but in vain. It did not mean he was not going to enjoy the girls, enjoy Alice. Did not mean he declined to release inside her. He would try pulling again but it was hopeless. Better just to accept and enjoy what was offered, a seemingly endless supply of warm female flesh, sopping quims and greedy mouths. Enough variety to keep a man interested and aroused for a life time; every night and every morning if he wished. A mouth in the morning and a quim at night or soft delicate hands or...

Simon wondered if there were more girls than just the three - and there were! A charming so tall girl with short black hair and curls either side of her ears, not quite flat chested but not by any means a full chest and with remarkably boyish hips. A perfect 'flapper' shape but if a bit masculine certainly no less feminine or delightfully aroused. He wondered if perhaps she was indeed from the 1920s. Had she found herself the wrong side of the mirror all those years ago? And if so, how? But, of course, he dare not ask anyone in the village, dare not reveal his dreadful secret.

Simon knew about addiction - alcohol addiction, drug addiction, prescription drug addiction, perhaps even porn addiction. He knew he had become addicted to the mirror, to the sexual gratification it offered. Should he tell someone he knew where Alice was - someone not from Selsdon Battersely? Surely, he would be laughed at saying he thought the missing girl was trapped in a 'Looking Glass World.' It would hardly help that her name was Alice. They would be sure he had made it up because of the name and then he would have to explain, it was not something that could be left out, it was an essential part of the story, what he did with Alice, time and time again... He could not do that.

It was a newspaper, a local newspaper open upon the table in the pub. Simon had not looked at it at first, had been too busy sipping his beer and talking to his boss, Alec Evans and colleague Dave Fairman. They were both older than him, mid-forties and with conversation ranging from their work to football and back again. At a mention of the recent Spurs match, Simon had glanced down and seen staring back out of the newspaper a picture of a girl he knew rather too well - Alice Compton.

"They haven't found her, then?" he said. It was more a statement than a question. Simon felt his face flush as he spoke. He knew rather more than he should know.

The two other men looked down at the newspaper and then at each other.

"No," said Dave Fairman.

"That's a shame."

There was more than a hint of a pause, "Not likely to, either," said Alec Evans softly.

It was as obvious as the nose on his face to Simon that something was unsaid, that there was something the two of them knew and were not saying.

"Stupid girl," said Dave, "but you do get 'em."

"And have them," said Alec almost sotto voce.

Simon was not unobservant, he saw both their eyes rise to the mirror on the wall of the pub, a mirror painted with wording about the beer.

Alec lifted his glass and Dave did the same, "To Mandrake," said Alec and Dave repeated the toast.

It was all rather strange, rather cabalistic, Simon wanted to ask more and who, or what, was Mandrake? But the topic was very deliberately changed back to football and the evening moved pleasantly onwards in the warm camaraderie of the public house. It was good to be drinking with colleagues, it gave a feeling of belonging. A few pints were sunk.

"Do you fancy a fuck: I do."

It came out of the blue after several pints. Simon was quite taken aback. But Dave seemed to take it in his stride.

"Wouldn't mind. Need a slash first."