Mirror, Mirror – #MasturbationMonday

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mirror mirrorThis picture is used with permission by Nikki at LoveIsAFetish.com (the original post with the picture). Nikki is a sexy sweetheart and you should follow her blog and follow her on Twitter.

This post is part of Masturbation Monday! https://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-227/ It’s a work of fiction, FYI. 😉

It’s a piece of advice that I’ve heard from time to time. If you own the equipment, you need to know how it operates. It’s what my dad used to say (and yes talking about my dad and my pussy is weird). Put more plainly, people with vaginas should know what they look like, respond to, and how they work. As a lifelong vulva haver, I was woefully ignorant. My therapist told me to get a mirror and get to know myself.

“Make it romantic,” she said. “Light some candles. Burn some incense. Seduce yourself.”

It sounded ridiculous, but I’d always had issues having an orgasm and my doctor cleared me from anything physical. “Will I have to use a toy or anything?”

She did that “would that bother you?” thing good therapists do.

Ultimately, I decided to go simple. Barry White played in the background. I stood next to my bed, white sheets turned down. All I had was my makeup mirror, but it was good quality. I could see everything I needed to when put to ordinary use. This wasn’t ordinary. I had poured a glass of wine and drunk half. I breathed in the cinnamon scented candle.

When I started, I was dressed in a lacy peignoir. I loved the feel of it against myself. I untied the silk strand and let the front of the garment fall open. It brushed my skin as it slid down. Black lace pooled on the floor. I cupped my full breasts, still restrained by satin. I love my boobs. Some women don’t. Mine had always gotten attention but they weren’t too big or too small. My nipples are sensitive and long. I tweaked them through the material of my bra. I was self-conscious, but I couldn’t deny that it felt good.

“I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The mantra I’d decided on felt silly coming from my lips. I didn’t feel either of those things, even prettied up as I was. I undid the front hook and let the cups fall away. My olive complexion against the dark fabric was pretty sexy. I really looked at my arms and my breasts as my hands moved over the supple skin. I hissed as I pulled at my nipples. I was gentle with myself. At first.

The sensation gradually travelled from my breasts to my belly, pooling there like molten gold. I let myself continue to breathe and examine myself in light of the words I said. Yes, I was overweight. Sure, I had some stretch marks. “I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The words were breathier now. Those things were as true as the knowledge of my body. I let my bra slide from my arms and join the peignoir on the floor.

I crawled onto the king size bed, just me and a broad expanse of cool, clean cotton. My kids were away. My ex was far, far away. I lay down with only my panties on and legs spread. I could see the black fabric covering what was ‘down there’. Time to get to know her a little better. I pulled the satin away from my right leg, showing one full lip and a few wisps of hair. I had trimmed my bush, so the view wouldn’t be obscured but it wasn’t all gone. “I’m beautiful. I’m desirable.” The husky sound of my voice and the dampness I felt between my legs made the words less of a formality and sounded more like a realization. I flicked at the lip and teased it with one fingernail. I hissed at the sensation and used my left hand to continue pulling on my nipple.

I whimpered as I continued watching myself. It was like someone else touched me. Their skin was as dark as mine. Undeniably a woman, a fantasy I’d had since high school. I focused on that silver circle. She pushed a finger into the sensitive flesh peeking out from my panties. I was getting wetter by the second. Still, the finger encountered some resistance. I wasn’t ready yet.

Time for the unveiling. I grabbed the waistband and pulled the black fabric over my mound and large, round butt and down my legs. I’d shaped my bush into a triangle and spent a few seconds running my finger through the curls. I really got to know the feel of the skin and flesh under the hair. I brought my fingers to my nose and inhaled. My odor was a little musky, I think that’s the word for it, but it was clean. I liked it.

“I’m beautiful and desirable.” More certainty crept into those words. I returned my fingers to the task at hand. I spread my lips open and looked at the pink flesh between. The difference in color was a little shocking. I’d often heard pussies referred to as flowers and I really saw why. I’d never looked at porn and have only ever seen other women’s vulvas and mounds in passing. You didn’t stare. That wasn’t polite. So, I’d never gotten a good look. My well-manicured nails trailed over the slickened flesh and I hissed and moaned again at the arcs of pleasure.

I’d looked up the names for the various parts. Some I knew, some I didn’t. My clit didn’t look like the pictures. It was bigger and stood out from the hood, but it was pretty. “I am beautiful and desirable.” I could smell my arousal and could feel it too, letting the pads of my fingers spread the wetness around. I explored until I found a rhythm that felt good, still thinking of the fingers as someone else’s. I flicked at the clit and slid my fingers into the vagina. My vagina. It was hot. I looked pretty damn amazing. My moans and breathing grew heavier and closer together. All the while, my brown eyes stared into a part of me that was a stranger.

My orgasm started to build. I’d had one or two before, so I knew what the first stages felt like. The fluttering was a little more intense than I remembered but it had been a while. I focused the work of my right index finger on stroking the clit and soon it was big enough for me to pinch between finger and thumb. I would have laughed. It was like a tiny penis. But it felt too damn good. I slid two fingers on my left hand into my folds. This time there was no resistance. I was wet as fuck.

I didn’t close my eyes, though they slitted towards the end. As my orgasm built and built, I wanted to know what I was doing so next time I could imagine it. My lips got bigger and opened more to my eyes. It took time, but I reminded myself I wasn’t going anywhere. When my orgasm came on full force, I had to close my eyes. I bent my knees and brought my feet to me ass, opening myself up to my explorations. The clenching was powerful, and it felt like an explosion of heat and color up through my core.

“I am beautiful.” *pant pant scream* “And desirable. Oh my god. Oh FUCK YES, I AM!”

 

Comments

  1. Posy Churchgate

    Wonderful interlude, very well told, I loved the voice of the therapist in the sidelines. Definitely sexy and I loved how you learned to love yourself and what it all looks like. I admit I’m like your heroine, but whenever I’ve tried the mirror thing I end up closing my eyes!

  2. Kayla Lords

    I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror quite that closely, but John Brownstone had me take full advantage of a full length mirror I used to have. And yes, there was awkwardness long before there was seduction.

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  4. TJ

    I like to call experiences like this “self-love-making” because that is exactly what it is. Masturbation is about getting off, but what you describe is an act of love. Really lovely. Thank you for sharing 💜💜💜

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