Josephine slid her hands down the lines of her tapering waist as she regarded her semi-nude reflection in the mirror. There was something different… unfamiliar… about the woman looking back at her. It was like beholding a stranger from across a crowded room, but knowing exactly who they are. Her reflection provoked a surprisingly submissive response in her, and she cast her gaze downwards. Somehow, she felt her reflection continuing to watch her, even though she herself was looking everywhere else but straight ahead.
A single tear seeped from one of her storm-tossed blue eyes. It rolled down her cheek, under her chin and straight towards the valley between her heaving breasts. It vanished into the space that shielded a heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest. This felt intense. She had always figured that she was never really truly alone when she was just with herself, but this time felt very different; it legitimately felt like a separate and wholly benevolent entity was right there with her… and it thrilled her to no end.
“Touch your breasts. Feel their weight, the delicate near-transparent tissue encasing them,” said a disembodied voice that sounded a lot like her own. She looked up and met the piercing eyes of her reflection once again. It was her for sure, but the difference was uncanny; her reflection was dominating… but adoring.
She didn’t question the order. She knew it was in her best interests to listen and comply without resistance. Her hands were resting by her side, and then they began to crawl like spiders up her torso, up the subtle muscle indentations of her obliques until they arrived right beneath her breasts. With utter delicacy and a silent slowness, her hand cupped her left breast, and her thumb swiped her erect nipple from beneath her bralette. Her other nipple hardened in anticipation as her hand finger-walked across her chest to cup her right breast and stroke that little node of oft-neglected nerve-endings. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, a whimper escaping her red lips.
“Yes. I can tell how much you like that. You do enjoy it, don’t you?” the honeyed voice asked. Josephine stared into her own eyes, her inhibitions melting like glaciers in the modern era.
“I do enjoy it,” she whispered as both of her hands pulled up her bralette, and held the soft orbs of warm receptive flesh. She caressed them as her eyes swept up and down the length of her body, which was ripening with sweetness and juice like a sun-warmed plum. Another bead of sweat released itself from her browline and travelled along the curve of her cheek.
“Take a photo. You can send it to your husband. You can send it to an admirer. But it’s really for you. You can opt to touch yourself to it later, if you like,” the voice offered, oozing excitement.
“Ummm… ok. But with my parts covered,” Josephine replied with growing confidence.
“They say ‘Less is More,'” her reflection agreed with a chuckle.
In response, Josephine adjusted her errant tits back in her bralette, grabbed her phone and snapped a few selfies. She giggled, enjoying her moment of self-worship. To her utter surprise, she really liked what she saw through her camera.
“Now taste yourself,” the voice implored with a trace of barely-controlled passion. Josephine’s body reacted with rolling hills of gooseflesh across the expanse of her skin. She looked into her own eyes as a finger caught another wayward bead of sweat, and brought it to her lips. Her tongue snaked out and licked it from her fingertip. It tasted like salt and home. It brought another tear to her eye.
“Taste more,” the voice asserted, still gentle but with a sense of scarcely masked carnality. Josephine was getting so turned on. She felt like two people in one, and relished the lip-smacking confusion of being both object and subject of her own desire. She finally smiled at her reflection… an eye-watering vision of cinnamon, honey, and acid-whipped cayenne.
She reached down, her hand vanishing beneath the lacey material of her panties, and slipped her fingers between the folds of her vulva, which were moistening with autosexual arousal. She located her little pearl of exquisite pleasure, and moved her finger around it in circular motions, drawing out even more nectar before plunging her fingers into her cream-lined opening. She pulled her fingers free and brought them to her lips, and proceeded to lick and suck off the glisten.
“Mmmm… that’s so good,” she moaned to herself, making eyes at her reflected self, a devious smile playing upon her elastic mouth. Her fingers plumbed back into her silky depths and pulled out strings of warm viscous sex which she rubbed between her thumb and forefinger before continuing to stimulate her engorged clitoris. She was already on the brink of climax.
She felt it building in her belly, and with feverishly dexterous fingers, she quickened her hand and found herself moments away from release.
“Let it go. Let is all go. Release it. I want you gushing as you cum,” the voice said. But the voice was coming from her own mouth, and not just her reflection. It had been coming from her all along.
“Mmm… yesss… unnnffff,” she groaned as she gave in to her climax. Liquid dribbled from deep inside her dripping wet cunt, and curled its way down her legs, pooling immodestly at her bare feet.
She looked up to meet her own eyes… and there was no more differentness or strangeness. It was just her, and she laughed so hard that she released the rest of the river roaring in her loins.