Masturbating in front of a mirror always makes me wonder what it would look like to watch myself being fucked – instead of watching myself peg someone, which has happened and was brilliant.
Content note for this being erotica that I wrote in 2018.
I tell him that if he rips my dress there’ll be hell to pay, and give a delicious shiver of arousal at the grin he flashes me. Approximately five minutes later I’m breathless, panting, and pushed against the mirror. He was fast and ruthless as he stripped my dress off me, and I was impressed at how efficient he was, despite how I squirmed and kicked. The glass is cold behind me, one of his hands pressing against my throat and the other grabbing my cunt.
While I struggled against his hold, he took my left nipple in his mouth and began to suck, reducing me to even more of a whimpering mess. When I’d melted into compliance, he used the hand that had been pinning my throat to undo my bra. With the fingers of his other hand, he pushed my knickers aside and slipped a finger into my tight slickness.
It wasn’t enough.
My cunt clenched around the single digit, craving more. I wanted him inside me; filling me, fucking me. I liked it when he made me. Not only was it incredibly hot, but it also meant I didn’t have to confess to all the depraved things I wanted him to do to me. It is easier to be his fuck toy if I didn’t have to admit how much I want it – need it, even.
I moan as he pulls his finger out, but the sound is cut off when he pushes it into my mouth. I suck obediently.
“You like that, don’t you little slut?” he asks me, and heat floods my cheeks. He’s not going to make me say it, is he? He kisses up my jaw with a generous scrape of teeth, and then hisses in my ear what a greedy slut I am, taking such pleasure in tasting my own arousal and desperate for his cock in my cunt.
I breathe a small sigh of relief as he pulls away, but when I see the mocking grin on his face I wonder if I have really escaped so easily.
“Turn around,” he orders, and when I hesitate he grabs my shoulders to spin me around. He instructs me to brace myself against the mirror. I obey. He presses the tip of his cock against the entrance to my cunt. He’s going to fuck me, he’s going to fuck me, he’s going to fuck me…
“Look at yourself, little slut,” he whispers in my ear. “Watch yourself trying to push back on to my cock, so desperate to feel it inside you, filling you up. You want me to take you from behind? You need me to fuck you, don’t you?”
He doesn’t give me what I need until I admit that I do, but when I nod he slams his cock into me. His thrusts are hard and deep; he knows that’s how I want it. His hands are on my hips, pulling me back to meet him, and it’s all I can do to steady myself against the mirror. I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations, but also ashamed to look at the girl in the mirror. It looks like she’s having fun. She shouldn’t enjoy this rough fucking so much.
He pulls my hair, jerking my head up, and tells me I have to watch. I have to watch him fuck me, and confront how much I want this filthy sex. He forces me to watch myself get fucked in the full-length mirror. He calls me a slut. I grin, breathless, as I come on his cock.
This is exactly what I want.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.
