Written by Naomi
I bounced into my apartment, the week’s stress long forgotten as I held a bag of my new purchases in my arms. Once the door was shut behind me, I emptied the bag on my bed and pulled out every item of clothing, eyes wide, with the grin of a satisfied addict.
Nothing to me screamed “joy and satisfaction” like handling a bag full of clothes that I spent way too much money on. Without thinking too much, I undressed completely and picked up the first dress within my reach; a silky black number that I was nearly beaten up over. I laughed at the memory as I put it on, twirling in the comfort of the warm lighting in my room.
The flowy dress fit me almost too perfectly, the triangular cups holding my breasts like a snug pair of silken hands and the bodice tracing and tickling my body, almost like what I assumed being inside of a flower would feel like. It skirted around the middle of my thighs, showing off my thunder thighs and grazing barely two inches below my ass. My mother would pass out if she saw it, and that gave me an odd thrill.
Still staring at myself in the mirror, I let my braids fall down my back and neared my reflection, giving her the smile that I usually reserved for the subjects of my attraction. Maybe it was the silk rubbing against them as I moved side to side in a little seductive dance, but I started to see the outline of my nipples becoming even more pronounced against the thin fabric, my piercings working together to stimulate the gradually hardening buds.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the same kind of attraction to the girl in the mirror and I didn’t need the help of the people behind a screen. I only wanted to focus on my own features that I could see and touch; soft, supple skin, breasts that defied gravity, and hips that my own hands could sink into.
I excited myself as I ran the pad of my fingers across my inner thighs, treating them as gently as I would a lover’s. After all, tonight I am my own lover.
My hands put on a show for the girl in the mirror, slow in its gentle re-fascination of the same body that it passed by every morning. The lighting of my room made me glimmer and I couldn’t help but place a kiss on my shoulder.
I intended to take the teasing much further, but my nipples and clit pulsated to the same rhythm of my heartbeat and I couldn’t quell the intense feminine urge to grab my favorite trusty vibrator and go to town.
It was exactly what I did, shocked at how soaked I was just from staring at myself in the mirror wearing my new favorite dress. It felt perverse and wrong but so, so sensual that I couldn’t stop myself from moaning out loud.
It sounded good so I did it again. And again. And again. Until there was a one-woman band of instruments and voice, performing a private concert for my own reflection.
As my hips rolled to the continuous song and dance combo of my still buzzing wand, I realized that for once, there was no skinny girl or fit man replacing me behind my eyes, it was just my sweat-slicked body heaving as I made sweet love to myself in the comfort of my bedroom, my reflection being my only companion.
I nearly forgot the magic that only I possessed; the knowledge that in the end, my body was still mine, and only I knew best how to get her where she needed to be.