Lady Voyeur

No one believes me.

Hell, I don’t believe myself, but --

Every night, my mirror is different.

The reflection in the mirror isn’t my bedroom with its huge bed and cream-coloured walls I saw -- it reflected a different scene, one of carnal desires, unshackling the constraints of my reality. An alternate universe where fantasies were not just dreams but tangible realities; a captivating tableau of human bodies intertwined in pleasure, performing acts unthinkable for the average person yet profoundly arousing.

Over two weeks now and I don’t know if I’m going insane or just needy. But tonight I will not sleep until I figure out what’s happening and where this is. So I can put an end to this lewdness and get some sleep.

Firstly, there was him; a fascinating creature of dark desire with chiselled features and a body that pulsed with a raw primal strength. His eyes burned like green embers, a hypnotic gaze that promised untold pleasures. His lips, sinfully full and deceptively gentle as they traced down her supple neck, eliciting gasps that filled the otherwise silent room.

His current bed bunny is an older brunette with some work done, evident by her perfect tits and button nose. She arched her back in response, her bare torso glistening under the dim light as his fingers explored her curves with expert knowledge. Her breath hitched when he found and played with those sensitive peaks on her chest. This wasn’t merely fondling - this was a man sculpting sinful pleasure from skin and flesh with deft fingers.

He slid down her body further leaving a trail of scorching kisses; over her navel and lower still – until he reached that pulsating core of her womanhood. The intense sensation ripped through her as his tongue began dancing rhythmically over her slick folds, teasing and tasting her most intimate spots till she writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

“More,” she whimpered - a desperate plea he readily obliged - his fingers joined the tantalizing dance below till she quaked beneath him, climaxing in waves of exquisite bliss.

Every night, I was a voyeur to this intoxicating dance of desire. And with each viewing in my mirror’s reflection, it stirred a primal yearning within me - a longing to explore the realm of carnal pleasure and experience the erotic forms of intimacy that only existed in my fantasy before.

Though not typically a fan of rougher sex, watching his large hands encircle her throat is oddly arousing. The sight of his fingers peeking out on either side as he controls her breath sends shivers down my spine. When he thrusts into her from behind, the slap of flesh against flesh echoes in the room, leaving a mark on her ass—his handprint a lingering testament to their passion.

As he takes her in the stand-up doggy-style position, it gives the mirror a full view of their performance. The way she bends over, her hair cascading down her back and the way he holds onto her hips, towering over her—it’s all so decadently sensual. The sight of him entering her again and again as she moans out for more is a scene I want burned into my memory—adding fuel to the fire of my awakening desires.

These nightly peep-shows are a crash course, a sexy 101, offering tantalizing glimpses into the fiery world of eroticism—a world I’m yearning to explore myself. To learn touch by touch, sigh by sigh, how pleasure can be sculpted from bare skin and raw desire. It’s an education like no other—an invitation into a world where inhibitions are shed in favor of hedonistic delight.

I clenched the sheets, cursing at how easily my thighs part at the sound of his grunts. Frustration chokes me as I fling off the sheets, too hot to think clearly.

I could feel myself becoming wet and needy. It’s almost painful, but I can’t help it.

The man continues to grind his hips into the woman’s body, his thickness plowing deeper into her with each thrust as she moans and gasps beneath him. His hands tighten on her shoulders, pushing her down harder onto the couch cushions as if he’s trying to bury himself as deep inside her as possible. She arches her back in response, digging her nails into the leather of the couch in a desperate attempt to find purchase against the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. Their skin slaps together in a rhythmic crescendo that seems to echo off the walls of the room, drawing out every guttural moan and breathy sigh.

He grabs a fist full of her hair, forcing her head back. Her screams and his growls have me squirming.

Then he looks up in mid stoke, turns to the mirror and time freezes. The corner of his mouth tilts upward in a known smirk, revealing a dimple in his cheek. His dark green eyes hold me captive long enough for panic to set in.

He’s looking straight at me and not through the mirror.

Two things happened.

First, I felt his eyes on me, inside me. Green eyes are full of mischief and delight toying with me. His gaze flicks down, and then back up at me with a knowing gleam. It was as if he was inside of me, caressing every inch of my body with his gaze. Leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

My eyes could not look away as I lay immobilized in my bed, a million miles away yet so close at the same time. I watched with terror and excitement the seductive dance before me. My hands clutched onto old sheets, desperately trying to ground myself in reality—a reality that seemed distant and irrelevant compared to this siren song of lust and desire coming from the bedroom.

He knows I can see him. And he’s fucking with me.

Second, my eyes widen as I took in the full picture of him. His face is alluringly handsome, and unshaven, like Lucifer after the fall. Dark, sensual, and dangerous. He was strong, like the God of old, his veins popping against his tanned skin as he pushed her closer to ecstasy. His confidence was empowering and captivating, driving a primal longing inside me for control over my own body. I drew in a sharp gasp as his grip on her hair tightened. He started to pound into her with a punishing thrust.

My heart was racing and my palms sweating. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or lick him. I felt the gooseflesh rise on my arms as I watched his tongue trace the outline of his bottom lip. My body was tingling with anticipation.

Or he is vainly watching himself tear that poor woman’s pussy apart. My rational brain chides me.

“Shit,” I mutter, jumping up to cover the mirror.

I’m not tired now, not in the least. My heart is racing, and the tingle between my legs is still there.

This can’t be real, not even close to normal.

Can he see me like I can see him?

Did he smile at me or his reflection? I wasn’t sure. There is never a moment where I had the brilliant idea to ask.

I can’t take it anymore. This is a dream.

I grab my robe and the throw on the end of the bed. Walking over to the mirror, I felt apprehensive about covering it for some odd reason.

It wasn’t until I reached out for the mirror that it began to shake. The frame rattling against the wall, I jumped back and let the throw fall.

The couple’s was the same, except he wasn’t pounding into the woman anymore. Instead, she was eagerly taking as much of his cock down her throat while he braced the mirror.

I can’t breathe, can’t even comprehend what is going on. I’m losing my mind.

It’s not possible. I know that.

His eyes came back to me as he fisted her hair.

“Take all of it,” He said, but the words were muffled and unclear.

I swallowed hard, wondering if he was talking to me, and it made me wet.

“Crying while gagging on my cock.” He groaned, not once breaking eye contact with me. “You are such a good girl.”

“Shit,” I muttered, shivering. His husky tone played across my pussy lips as if he was a common visitor. Shaking my head, I snatch up the throw and cover the mirror.

The image ripples and then disappears.

I carefully tried to lift the mirror off the wall, but it wouldn’t move. It instead shocks me and I jump back.

“What the hell is going on?”

Suddenly, my reflection begins to waver again. I quickly grab another blanket and double wrap the mirror the best way I can. Only for the mirror to keep shocking me with every touch. If the mirror wasn’t a family heirloom and my fear of seven years of bad luck, I was going to smash the mirror.

But instead, I gave up and went to bed.

“Fuck you, fuck you.” I say under my breath, not sure if the mirror can hear me.

“I hate you.”

I can’t sleep and toss and turn in my bed. I don’t even know why I’m so mad. Maybe because it’s 3:00 am, and I’m exhausted.

This has been going on for over two weeks.

Cool fingers brush against the nape of my neck. A chill runs down my spine.

I gasp.

“Hello.”

I turn the light on and no one is there.. Nothing. The mirror is wrapped up and I can hear not a single noise. I hit the lights and roll over, reminding myself to have Sterling, Cleo’s husband, install a security system for me.

The cool sensation stirred me out of sleep again, or I think so. Because when I look around, it looks like my bedroom, but different somehow. I couldn’t figure out why.

The caress ensnares my attention and I found the man in the mirror in between my thighs. Holding up my left calf to his lips, he gently nipped the inside of my calf.

“I hope your pussy is nice and wet for me.”

My heart skips a beat, propelling my adrenaline up and making my pussy tingle with wanton lust.

“I want you to taste yourself on my lips,” his baritone voice whispered against my pussy lips.

My eyes flutter close as his tongue swipes my pussy. He sucks on me.

“Oh, God.” I moan, my fingers curling on my sheets. “Stop, damn it! W-who are you?” I whisper, my voice full of lust.

“Tsk, tsk. Good girls don’t talk so dirty. At least not to strangers.” He grins, his teeth grazing my inner thigh.

“Well, I’m not a good girl.” I pout.

“Good girl,” he whispers against my skin, and I shudder.

I tried to jerk my leg back, but he holds it firmly in place. I felt my body respond to his words, my core heat, my chest tightened, my nipples hardened. The ache between my legs became unbearable. My body was begging for relief.

“Please…” I begged shamelessly.

“No, the good girls never get what they want.” He cooed, still nipping my skin.

My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but whimper, thinking it was a dream. He laughed softly and pushed my thighs apart. His tongue glided along my folds, caressing me into a daze.

For a dream, it felt way too real.

“Does it feel good, sweets?” He asked, his hot breath caressing my lips.

“Y-yes.” I replied hesitantly.

It felt like an out of body experience. I was laying there, helpless as he ate me out. The pleasure hit me like a tidal wave.

The feeling was surreal. My hands moved up and down his muscular back as he continued to tease me.

My heart was racing, and my breathing was ragged.

His tongue slid inside me, swirling around, and I gasped. I had never felt anything like it before.

I bit down on my bottom lip as he worked his tongue deeper into me, causing my whole body to tremble.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” I cried out.

He hummed, sending vibrations through me, and my hips bucked uncontrollably. My fingers clutched his hair and tugged him closer to me, as if that were possible.

I couldn’t control myself anymore. I needed him. I wanted him.

His hands roamed along the curves of my body, teasing and taunting with a maddening gentleness that sent sparks shooting through my veins. Waves of desire crashed over me, and I clung to him as if he were my lifeline in this moment of raw vulnerability.

“Fuck!” I screamed, pulling him up to me, and kissed him.

Nothing.

My eyes shot open and I abruptly sat up in bed, my body drenched in sweat and my heart racing. A tangle of sheets lay across my legs, and a gentle winter sunrise spilled through the window onto the hardwood floor.

The mirror on the wall opposite of my bed was fogged from the steam of the moment, as if saying “I know what you’ve just been through”.

I wiped my forehead with one hand and ran my other through my damp locs, still unable to process what had just occurred. My skin was hot and sensitive to the touch and the air smelled of arousal. I felt like someone was watching me, but when I looked around all I saw was myself reflected in the mirror. With a heavy sigh, I threw off the covers and got out of bed.

The mirror seemed to mock me with my reflection as if it wasn’t the cause of my erotic nightmare.

“I need to get ready for work. Two weeks away has been long enough.” I grumbled heading for the bathroom.

As I stood in front of the foggy mirror, my reflection appears distorted, much like my own emotions. The remnants of desire still lingered within me, tangled with confusion and a sense of longing. It was as if that passionate encounter had been more than just a dream.

With trembling hands, I reached out to touch the mirror’s surface, hoping for some clarity or answers. But the condensation smeared beneath my fingertips, erasing any semblance of truth. Frustration welled up inside me, mingling with an inexplicable sadness.

The room itself seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating my next move. But I couldn’t bear to stay there, surrounded by the remnants of an intense but unreal connection. I needed fresh air, a change of scenery to clear my head. Slipping into a robe, I made my way towards the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. Each step echoed through the empty condo, reminding me of the solitude that had become my constant companion.

It all started with the mirror. My grandmother’s mirror.

New story, who dis?

This story is my nanowrimo and a draft.

Reviews, comments, and emojis are appreciated.