Mirrors are fun. So, so fun.

What is it about them that’s so intoxicating? So many factors that go into play. Lighting. Positioning. Clarity. If eyes are a window to the soul, then a mirror is a window to our unabridged, unfiltered truths. And when we explore the chapters of lust deep in our psyche, they become conduits for something so carnal and elemental, it’s almost unimaginable to fuck without one.

And that’s where I found myself on a cold autumn evening in the Northeast. I matched with a young college grad on Hinge named Maria. And by now, I realized the formula to detect if someone was in it for a quick fuck, or a deep relationship; make coy references to my singledom, sneak in a voice note with the hopes of being told “damn, that’s a sexy voice.” And (assuming I read the room correctly), reference my “tiny cock” in a self-deprecating manner and hint that it’s not all that tiny… (it’s not all that big either but THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT)

As my luck would have it, Maria was the former. She was a cute girl. Curvy (my goodness), curly hair (my weakness), short (my preference), pale skin with “dark features,” if that makes sense? She’d just gotten out of a relationship and apparently, he was not one to satisfy her needs. With a mouth fit for a sailor and a gaze that saw right through my intentions, we exchanged numbers and started the internet tango… She was hesitant to meet that night but nonetheless, she invited me to her tiny apartment with a fervor in her eyes after a few moments of exchanging pictures and videos.

I hurried over to her block and climbed a flight of stairs that seemed fit for Super Mario 64. She greeted me at the door with tendrils of hair obfuscating her beautiful pale face, with rosy pink blemishes scattered across her cheek like expertly crafted errant brush strokes from a master painter. If my skin could blush from the excitement, she’d have detected it in an instant. I asked her if she ordered room service, and she tilted her head coyly, with a smirk to match. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me into her place. And a few mins into chatting, I had my tongue down her throat and caressing her cheeks with the patience and tenderness of a man with all the time in the world.

I unclasped her bra while her shirt was still on, and slowly made my way under her short to sneak my hands under her bra. She lifted up her shirt and I pulled that bra satin off her chest so fast, I could’ve set the record for a service speed at Wimbledon. Exposed to the LED-lamp lit room were her porcelain tits. So perfectly hung off her chest, and centered by a delicious pink set of nipples. They were asymmetrical of course, as all perfect tits are, and I played with them accordingly. In the meantime, Maria complemented her moans with slowly strokes of my cock, which was already hanging to the side of my boxers. We moved quick…

Eventually, once our tongues made their sufficient introductions to our respective mouths, necks, ears, and genitals, I figured it was time to ask the big question: “do you have a condom?”

She looked mortified. “Of course I do. Do you not?”

I smirked and said, “hold up.” And reached for my wallet. I pulled out my favorite brand- black with golden font. I asked Maria to put it on me.

“Oh god. I haven’t used one of these in ages”

“Just trust me.” And she did. She got on her knees and stroked and sucked me until I was even more erect than before. Soon, she unfolded the condom and slipped it on. Looking deep into my eyes with a vice grip on my dick, she posed a question.

“So, big boy. Where do you want to fuck me?”

I looked in her hazel eyes and around the room. My gaze settled on the mirror framed by pictures of her snd her friends traveling, partying, and everything else you’d expect a young woman to find memorable enough to decorate her walls with. I grabbed her hair and drug it along slowly, whispering “here,” as I inched closer to the mirror.

She gasped.

“Omg. Omg. Fuck. I’ve always wanted to do this….but my ex…”

Her voiced trailed off.

“Tell me,” I pleased. “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me. But my ex always made me self-conscious. Especially about my body and my stomach. But I wanted him to fuck me in front of a mirror forever…He never did.”

Pity isn’t the word I’d use. Perhaps anger? Such a beautiful girl, being shamed for the very thing that makes her beautiful? What a dickhead. I made a vow to myself that I’d undo all that damage he did. I’m going to make her feel as Rihanna wanted- like the only girl in the world.

And so I lifted her onto her legs and bent that ass over in front of that reflective glass. Her watching my rhythmic beating of her ass, my rubbing of my cock against her taint, and the suction I felt when I slipped my latex-laden member into her wet fucking pussy- oh god. It was enough to make both of us cum instantly. She was rolling her eyes up and down, watching my jerk in and out of her beautifully plump ass. My feral eyes were locked on her ass while hers were locked on my reflection. Our silhouettes danced in the darkness, breaking what rays of light shone through the escapes of her lampshades. It was passionate. It was raw. And it was gorgeous.

Soon, I flipped her around and lifted her off her feet. She was heavy. But I managed to put her in her chair, which was facing the mirror. And I got to work.

My tongue was darting in and out of her pussy at first, making sure that I don’t rush into things and savor the experience of pleasuring her. Soon, I started circling her clit with my two fingers, then slipping a few more in and out of her oussy. I licked her clit at first, its tender spot begging to soften the more it met my tongue. And soon, her cream was leaking onto the floor and I sopped it up in my hands and smacked her thighs with it. She moaned and pleaded “dont stop daddy.”

Oh no darling. Never.

I guess watching her get this royal treatment in the mirror eventually was too much for her young brain to handle, because she squirted so hard it coated not just my beard but also the mirror. What a good girl she was! And eventually, once we both laughed off these impassioned moments, we got right back to sucking each other’s faces off. She walked me over to her bed, and moved the mirror against the wall next to it. And i proneboned her while staring at each others’ eyes. She was so fucking hot. And this was some artistic fucking.

In between whispers of long you feel so good,” and “Jesus you fuck so great,” and even an occasional whimper of “my ex was never this bold…”, my cock found its release. I came hard, forcefully, all over her back. Oh that’s right, I no longer had a condom on because she wanted to feel me, my foreskin and veins rubbing up against her pussy walls. How could I refuse?

We fucked a few more times that night. The mirror was our audience, and what we saw was an insatiable duo that loved the crevices, curves, snd concoction of natural imperfections that perfectly contoured and complemented our lust. So much unspoken communication. And that’s exactly what we want from the perfect audience.

As I said…Mirrors are fun.