A Beautiful Image

Your thoughts keep returning to him as the warm steamy water of your bath relaxes your body. How his eyes smile at you, the warmth of his embrace, the firmness of his body, always brings a flush to your skin. You feel a tingling sensation as you rub the sudsy washcloth over your skin slowly. You smile as you ponder why certain parts of your body get so much cleaner than others. You lift the chain of the drain plug with your toe letting the water retreat, and watch as your body slowly emerges from the water, breasts first, like beautiful islands in the Pacific, then your hips, thighs, and the tropical paradise of your mound. You love when he tells you how beautiful your body is. You turn the water on to rinse the suds from your skin.

Standing before your bathroom mirror, wrapped in your soft towel, skin still warm from your bath, you gaze at your image in the mirror, and think of him looking at you. How hungry his eyes are, so quick to enjoy the curves of your body. You let the towel part, exposing your breasts. How beautiful they look, large pink nipples protruding from each, longing for his lips. You shudder as you remember how he loves to kiss them.

Turning slowly, you watch in the mirror as the towel fall to the floor. You look at the cheeks of your round bottom and delight at how he loves to squeeze them. Back to the mirror now, you part your legs slightly and look over your shoulder at the beautiful image in the glass. Oh, how you wish he was there looking at you now, taking you in. He surely would stand close, body next to yours, wrapping his arms around you, holding you. You can almost feel him next to you, his growing bulge pressing against the cheeks of your ass as his hands caress each of your breasts. You see your body arch in the mirror as your hands mimic his lifting each breast, and gently squeezing each nipple. You sigh softly, or was it a moan?

You turn back to face the mirror, as you move you right hand slowly from your breast, running your fingers along the skin of your tummy, lower and lower. You look at the image before you, so erotic, as you fingers slide through the soft tuft of hair over you pussy, gently tracing the meaty flesh of your pussy. You watch your finger disappear between your lips only to reemerge covered in wetness. You moan and tremble with anticipation as you think of how he loves to make you
climax. You wonder why he likes it so much, and what it must be like from his perspective. You smile as you get a wicked idea of how to find out.

Naked, you walk excitedly to your bedroom, grabbing your vibrator from your dresser drawer as you do, kneeling in front of your full length, tilting mirror. You adjust it so that you can clearly see yourself, and admire how truly beautiful and erotic your body is. Your pussy lips are full, and as you lean back, they part slightly revealing an aroused button of a clit. You see how excited you are as a bead of your juices slowly runs from where your lips meet down over the skin of your bum. How wet and exciting it feels. So this is what he sees as he lowers his tongue to you. You watch as you run your finger along your lips, collecting the moisture, spreading it, finger painting
happily a whimsical design. How beautiful. How erotic.

You pull back the skin over your clit and watch as you slide your finger along one side then the other. You feel it tingle, aching to be touched. Yet you linger, letting the sensation build, just the way he does. Oh, how you crave his attention. You’ve given in, and touch, slowly rubbing just under the clit, the sensation overpowers you as your body reacts with a groan, you lean back, and close your legs around your fingers squishing them hard against your clit and pussy.

You lift you head, and prop it on a pillow for a good view. Your fingers exploring freely now, you listen to the noises your body makes. How erotic. Fingers facing down, you slide them along your lips, watching them surround your middle finger as you press it between, and into you. You feel the warm wetness on your finger, the slickness of you, the tightness as you squeeze your own finger. You slide it deeper and feel the sensation on your lips. You press your palm down against your clit when your finger is in as far as can go, curl it like he does, and slowly drag it out, watching it emerge from you in the mirror, covered in your juices.

You smell your scent as you do this several times and wonder at the taste. He seems to love it. You raise your fingers to your lips and touch your tongue to sample it. It tastes sweet yet musky, very hard to describe but very pleasant. You smile at the thought of him tasting you. You return your hand to yourself and watch as your fingers slide along your lips. You bend your middle two fingers and slide them both inside slowly. It feels so nice when he does it. You moan loudly as you thrust your fingers in and out with short firm strokes. Index and pinkie finger are extended and rub your lips with each stroke, and the heel of you your palm presses against your clit, as your pleasure builds. You lift your head to watch.

Your legs wide, you lift your hips to the motion of your fingers, and your groans get louder as you try to call out his name. You watch the muscles of your thighs and bum tighten and tremble with pleasure. You quicken the pace of your fingers, listening to the wet slapping noise they make with each thrust. You feel the pleasure building, radiating from your clit and lips, and squeeze tight trying to delay the inevitable.

You watch to see what he sees catching a glimpse of your face contorted in pleasure. You squeeze your nipple with your free hand as you think of his hard cock, his eager fingers, his hungry lips, as you watch your body start to convulse and shake in orgasm. You push your fingers deep thinking of his love and shudder, watching your muscles squeeze then release only to squeeze again. You breathe in deep at let out a animal groan in narcissistic pleasure. You feel the release all through you now and are amazed to see the wetness streaming from around your fingers. Oh my God, no wonder why he loves this.

Breathing deep, you let the waves slowly subside, fingers still down, holding yourself, you laugh, and then close your eyes with a smile still on your lips.

Spread there on the floor in front of the mirror, so relaxed and happy, thinking of him, you can almost hear him say how beautiful you are. Wait, you do hear him. You open your eyes and see him smiling down at you. “You are beautiful,” he says.

You smile back knowing what is sure to follow.