The Other Side of the Mirror Pt. 04

4. Mandrake

Simon had not seen the man before, had not seen any men within his mirror, but knew it was Mandrake Mortimer. An impressive man, taller and bigger than him – in more ways than one. All ways, really. Simon could not but be impressed by his upstanding cock, could not be but impressed by his air of authority and charm. Even the hairiness of his body, his dark hairiness, added to his masculinity and that sense of command. He was there in the mirror, leading naked Alice forward by the hand. There seemed no resistance in her, no reluctance, just obedience. Simon instinctively stood. He had been getting ready for bed, had showered and been looking to the mirror with a view to a little sexual gratification before sleep. It seemed not only discourteous but wrong not to stand in the presence of this man in the mirror. Moreover, it was not just that he was standing on his feet, but he felt his penis rising. He had never been erect with another man before. It reminded him of, just before he had first seen Alice in the mirror, when he had pressed his own cock against his mirror image.

Mandrake Mortimer let go of Alice's hand and stepped closer to the mirror glass and Simon immediately knew what was expected of him. He too stepped closer. The man was as real as if he had been in Simon's room. He was standing there as if he was but the reflection of Simon, but the contrast was considerable. Male, yes, and with his penis up but otherwise a more imposing, larger man. Whereas Mandrake Mortimer was dark, Simon was fair; whereas the other man was hirsute, Simon did not even have significant growth to his chest; whereas the man's eyes were blue, Simon's were hazel. Even though Simon had thought his own penis nothing to be ashamed of, it was not as long, nor as thick, nor quite exhibiting the power of Mandrake Mortimer's. He had bested Alec and Dave but not this man.

Simon had done it to himself at that very mirror, but this was different. This was another man, not just a reflection. The man moved forward and the front of his glans, the bifurcation and the fraenum touched the glass. Simon knew what he must do and he too stepped to the glass as he had done to his reflection. It was not, though, as if the two of them were either side of a window or perhaps the patio doors of a house making a pretence of touching. The glass did not prevent a touching, the penises pushed into the insubstantial mirror glass and very much touched. A warm feeling upon the underside of his knob, the touch of warm skin to his own. Mandrake Mortimer was no less warm than the girls Simon had so pleasingly touched, fondled and enjoyed. Warm and hard. Unexpectedly Simon felt a surge of sexual excitement, he did not move, indeed neither man moved, there was no rubbing of penises together, no stroking of the two together, neither moved a hand to tug at them in unison: the men were just touching as one might touch when shaking hands. Knob to knob, fraenum to fraenum. To Simon it had that feel, that essence of the handshake rather than anything else: yet undoubtedly there was a tingling, a strong feeling of increasing arousal and then he gasped as he felt a powerful orgasm. Standing penis to penis he felt like he was coming, ejaculating really hard: but he neither felt the splash of semen nor saw it leave his penis. An ejaculation free orgasm, intense and pleasurable, simply from the touch of Mandrake Mortimer's penis to his own.

Intense, powerful and unceasing – until the other man stepped away. A smile of amusement on his face. Simon stood there blinking, his breathing fast, conscious that he had stepped a little further on a strange road, had greeted Mandrake Mortimer as a friend, had shaken his hand – so to speak – and now become that much more complicit in his misdeeds. Before him the man, his penis so up in the air, was reaching out for Alice Compton. Something further was going to happen, something involving Alice. Simon was up for it – still very up – were they in some way going to share the girl?

The man turned Alice, turned him so she was facing away from him, so that her lovely bottom was in view, and then he slowly bent her over at the waist so that her bottom cheeks opened for Simon, so that he could see her little rosebud. Was that to be it? He did not look at Mandrake, his eyes all upon the revealed bottom hole, his thoughts very much tied up with it. He did not see the man reach for a flask of oil, only saw it when it was poured to run thickly down the crack of Alice's bottom and over her anus. With his fingers Mandrake Mortimer began a rather intimate fondling, an oily, slippery fondling, almost as good to see as if Simon had been doing it himself.

The man, the image in the mirror, was oiling Alice's bottom, but for him or Simon? Gradually, Simon could see he was easing her bottom, relaxing her, his fingers busy and the whole intimate process there in front of Simon. The man, himself, was facing Simon but with the girl between. It was obvious to Simon she had accepted the man, taken his erection into her mouth as his fingers in turn had entered her bottom. Fingers indeed: Simon could see more than one was inside, stretching and easing it for... for a penis. And then the hand was withdrawn.

Simon gazed with intense longing at the newly oiled and hopefully accepting wrinkled hole. Was it to be him?

He watched as Alice took a step backwards. Simon could see that she was being pushed back by the man, being pushed back by the man's penis in her mouth, knew he was being offered the oiled bottom. And he was most certainly going to take it. His penis felt like iron with the excitement. He had felt something like it with Alec and Dave, sharing a woman, but here Mandrake Mortimer was offering the woman to him – whilst sexually connected. She would be being taken at both ends.

The bottom came closer and closer to the glass and then was pushed through. Simon had been rooted to the spot with excitement but not now, not when the warm, oily bottom touched his glans. He reached and held himself at the opening, it was shining and did not have that tightness, that usually clasping tightness of an anus. His rounded knob poked at the opening. So exciting to see. Simon pushed and felt resistance – resistance both from the bottom and from her body. Simon was pushing at her but so was the man in the mirror. He could feel the pressure on his penis, but it did not bend - it was far too rigid for that: instead there was a sudden easing and Simon slipped smoothly into Alice's bottom, gliding into the oiled passage.

A conspiratorial smile from Mandrake Mortimer, a biting of lip from Simon as he felt himself travelling further and further into the girl until his thighs were up against the smooth and oily cheeks of her bottom. Wonderful to find himself pushing and pulling the girl as the other man did the same. The other man's penis sliding in the girl's open mouth: Simon's penis sliding in the girl's open bottom. A shared sexual experience. He had enjoyed taking and sharing the girls with Alec and Dave, but this was something different again.

A sudden thought, a worry about Emma. He turned but knew the door to his bedroom was now securely locked and she could not be there. How awful to be caught by her with his penis in Alice's bottom and her seeing Mandrake Mortimer and he sharing the girl. She worried him, could she expose the awful things he was doing – could not help himself doing - with his mirror? She was a danger to him.

So pleasurable, so exciting to share a girl with another man, yet pushing her to and fro between them took away his control. He could not 'edge,' could not stop and prevent himself ejaculating. The sliding motion upon his penis, the slippery movement of Alice's bottom was as much Mandrake Mortimer's doing as his own: and so he was pushed over, and his penis spurted into Alice. A second orgasm but this time accompanied by the expulsion of his semen, glorious spurts of pleasure.

And he was sure the other man came too at the very same time. He had it confirmed when the girl was pulled from him and rotated so he could see her face. It was shining with excitement, an almost creepy look of lust upon her face, the more so when she opened her mouth to confirm what he had surmised. He watched Alice swallow and then saw the other man's still erect penis being pushed into her newly vacated bottom.

A wry, disappointed or was it slightly contemptuous look from Alice at Simon's shrinking penis. A tongue stroked across her lip was so suggestive, but Simon could do nothing about it as his penis hung down, spent and soft. Not so the other man. Alice was being really used from the rear, her face coming through the glass and back as she was really 'thumped' from behind. The look on her face anything but displeasure. Was that an anal orgasm?

Remarkable to realise the other man was coming again, repeating what he himself had done in Alice's bottom not that many minutes before. A smile from Mandrake Mortimer as he pulled from Alice, and then he was retreating back into the mirror, leading Alice away by the hand, their images growing fainter but still the man was erect. The man's powerful erection still standing, the one Simon had touched with his own now shrunken and soft penis.

Simon fell back on his bed and closed his eyes. What an experience, what an orgasm – or two. Such pleasurable sexual activity. He felt so fortunate with his discovery – even if there were feelings of guilt. Were there many men in Selsdon Battersely not taking advantage, both old and young? How long before a newly married young man might find himself, 'just the once,' drawn back to the mirror from his new bride. Might he sit up in his bed, smile fondly at his sleeping wife beside him recalling the copulation of a few hours, or even less before, and tiptoe from the room to another bedroom where there was such a big mirror upon the wall and summon another girl to suck and fondle his recently used, but once again tumescent, member and draw the semen from him?

Might many households, instead, be strangely mirrorless, the women of Selsdon Battersely being more than aware of the temptation they posed to their menfolk? Simon had discovered the secret by chance, but was it something whispered about in the school playground between newly pubescent boys, as they discovered not just the unexpected pleasure of masturbation but rather more in the mirror? Perhaps sharing the discovery not just verbally but physically with their friends as he had been introduced to that room in the pub by Alec and Dave.

Emma was not idle. She had been horrified at her body's reaction to Mandrake Mortimer and it had certainly given her an understanding of just how powerful an attraction the lure of the mirror was to the men in Selsdon Battersely, but, nonetheless, felt very strongly that they should control their base instincts. She had not shackled herself again and submitted to that. She had been strong, and they too should be the same and resist. Emma had, indeed, been strong but, even so, there was a little clitoris shaped voice nagging at her from the back of her mind, tempting her to pleasure. She resisted: yet men thought with their penises, they were simpler than women – that was her mantra.

Persistently she asked questions of the women, would not take 'no' for an answer. Emma found out about the upper room at the public house, a shameful secret of the village: so like a hidden away brothel, to her mind. Nor was she unobservant. Her nocturnal walks took her past not only Joe Costin's house but many more besides and she was ready to peep.

She saw Graeme Trafford as he would not wish to be seen by anyone else, least of all, perhaps, by his wife, whom Emma had spoken to that very morning; whose wife had said in a roundabout way, without in any way mentioning Mandrake Mortimer, that she did not allow mirrors in her house and then clammed up completely. Emma, though, had caught Graeme Trafford's sitting room light coming on in his darkened house and seen him appearing through the doorway. She had crept closer. Had smiled to see him in a very traditional striped nightshirt, incongruous in the modern world, but had not missed the tenting at the front. The flash from what he held in his hand had caused her to come closer still.

Mrs Trafford might have banned large mirrors but not hand-held ones. In Graeme's hand a silver backed rounded mirror complete with handle. Perhaps Victorian, perhaps earlier, it looked rather pretty. Emma hardly needed to worry about being seen, as the man's eyes were staring into the mirror with a fascination and a grin. He brought it closer and closer to his face and anyone without knowledge of the hidden secret of Selsdon Battersely might have thought he was kissing the glass, but Emma knew better, knew he was kissing anything but cold hard glass; most likely his tongue was intimately engaged with a feminine mouth within the mirror.

Emma watched as his hand reached and drew up his nightshirt exposing himself up to his stomach. His erection had not subsided, she had seen it pushing out the front of his nightshirt and now there it was. Emma was a little cross at her own reaction. Had her experience with Mandrake Mortimer really changed her and caused an easier and more visual arousal? She had not in any way disliked penises before: just not found them arousing per se, more an indication of pleasant sensations to come from a boyfriend. Now she looked at it with longing despite the man being perhaps twice her age. His fair hair gave almost the impression of a hairless cock and perhaps that made it look the longer. The pronounced left-hand kink to the shaft was a trifle unusual but did not upset Emma's appreciation and she liked the way the knob overtopped the shaft, the diameter of the glans exceeding that of the body of the penis. In her mind the comparison with the German 'coalscuttle' helmet of the First War. It certainly stood up in the air. She shook her head in annoyance, she was paying far too much attention to the intimate particularities of Graeme Trafford's penis.

What amazed her and would have amazed any watcher, was the way Graeme Trafford turned the mirror in his hand, so it was towards the horizontal and, with the silver face uppermost, brought it slowly down so its mirror glass touched the end of his penis: or would have done normally. But mirrors are not normal in Selsdon Battersely. The downwards journey of the mirror did not cease and to the uninformed observer it would seem as if the mirror was having the effect of forcing down the penis or concertinaring it. Had it simply been a hoop then the mirror's rim would have happily descended and left the cranked penis standing in the midst of the hoop: it was not, though, a hoop and appeared solid yet the penis was disappearing into it until the silver was resting on his thighs. The look on his face was one of considerable pleasure – not a surprise to Emma but would have been to another observer unaware of the dreadful secret of Selsdon Battersely. As would have been the reappearance of the anything but squashed or concertinered penis as the mirror was raised.

The man then began alternately lifting and lowering the mirror. Had it been his fingers encircling his penis it would have been obvious masturbation. Emma, though, was pretty sure it was not fingers that were holding the penis in the mirror but a pair of lips. Graeme Trafford was being fellated through the small aperture, perhaps seven or eight inches across, of a hand mirror.

Emma was rather shocked at herself in finding her hand inside her knickers and in her mind the thought of what she could do with a pocket mirror. Perhaps something as small as a powder compact, the two, or so, inch diameter being plenty enough to permit the sticking through of Mandrake Mortimer's lovely cock either to enjoy orally or between her legs. No risk of being drawn through but, instead, there would be her own so very fleshy dildo to enjoy. In her mind the compact sitting on a table before her and the lovely strong penis sticking up at her out of it. She could even pass it around the table for her friends to take a suck and, if it came, well lucky girl. It would not soften and would probably ejaculate again... and again. Once, twice, thrice around the table with heads bobbing and then it passed around beneath the table.

That the awful Mortimer Mandrake could ejaculate again and again there was no doubt but did it perhaps weaken him, become less pleasurable with each ejaculation, become perhaps painful as again and again the semen was drawn until he was firing on empty? A terrible experiment with a small mirror and her lips and hands, drawing the semen again and again, forcing him into submission.

Inside the room the mirror was being waved up and down and then there was a grimace on the man's face and Emma very well knew what he was doing – doing that thing inside a girl's mouth in the mirror, perhaps Alice Compton. She did not know.

The man drew the mirror up and completely off his penis and brought it back to his face. To Emma it was obvious he was kissing the girl again, probably tasting his own semen on her lips, perhaps they were even playing with his ejaculate in their mouths. It was not something Emma had done, or had thought of doing, but now, with the memory of Mandrake Mortimer's copious ejaculation in her mouth, she was not sure she would not mind doing that thing: awfully, and again that worried her, with Alice Compton.

Graeme Trafford stood, allowing the striped nightshirt to fall over his shrinking penis, and walked back out of his sitting room, back to his wife and to slumber. The light flicked out leaving Emma in darkness – with her hand in her knickers.

Another early night for Simon, not at all to curl up for an hour or more with a good book. He read a lot less now, he had other things to do before bed: not so much curl up with someone else either, but certainly his penis uncoiled as he stood naked in front of his mirror. Just standing there was often enough, waiting for a hazy outline perhaps to appear as if behind him, the outline most likely of a girl though occasionally the tall and erect figure of the man himself would appear, perhaps leading a girl forward.

This night as he stood erect and expectant, he saw a girl walk into the reflection, just as if she was in the room with him, just as if she had silently come in through the bedroom door. Just for a second, he had the awful thought it was Emma Wheeler, come again to remonstrate and criticise. How awful. He tended to avoid her now, despite how attractive he found her; had even thought it was a shame they could not share the delights of the mirror together. Would she not enjoy Mandrake Mortimer's attentions, might she not secretly enjoy being intimate with one of the girls? That, though, was just daydreaming: her attitude was quite other, not unsurprising given what had happened to her friend Alice. She had certainly not liked what she had seen him doing with Alice. Simon shuddered.

But it was not Emma, the girl was not a bit like Emma. Emma was white for one thing, the new girl was black, and a very dark shade at that. Even though he knew she was not really in his room, he still turned and, as he knew full well, there was nobody over near the wall, no-one walking closer. But it was still strange to see the girl advance behind his reflection. A pretty girl, in quite a different way from Alice: very different features, a wide nose, strong cheekbones and very full lips. Where had she come from? Simon did not just mean which part of Africa or elsewhere did she or her parents, grandparents or great grandparents originate from, but what was her story, how had she stepped through the mirror into the domain of Mandrake Mortimer? How many, many perhaps years ago had it happened? A mistake probably, that must have happened to some of the girls, perhaps lust leading her through or perhaps to escape from somebody – a lustful employer perhaps. Well, she would have found lust a plenty the other side of the glass. A lady's maid perhaps. Gorgeous and exotic. Wonderful black, shiny skin, wide hips with such super tight curls hiding her slit, rather small breasts but with big pale brown areolae.