mirror mirror on the wall

The context in which we find ourselves does not lend itself to what we want to say.
Let alone do.
So we are silent.
And we look at each other.
Mirrored.
I see you.
You see me.
The mirror provides a protective layer.
We do not have to directly, but may indirectly.
So we dare more.
And we feel more.
I look at your mouth, your lips.
It’s almost like I can see your hoarseness, because of your increasing degree of horniness.
I continue my way down and I see that you do the same.
My body reacts.
Your body is responding.
I feel my nipples become hard and I know you notice this.
Your cock betrays what you see.
You are hard. Horny hard.
You know my eyes are there.
I feel pure tasty wetness in my panties.
I want you inside me.
I want to feel you.
Move (in) me. Please.
I want to ride you.
Watch me do it.
I know you want the same thing.
Except.
That moment of mutual awareness.
No butt, but but.
Right. The wrong kind of but.
We are laughing.
You get these ‘giggles’ earlier than I do and the center of it all is in your pants, rather than your face, if you know what I mean?
But that’s not bad either.
Going to the hairdresser has never been more fun.

N/A

All artwork by Puck Rietveld