The beautiful slut in the mirror

The first thing you should know about me is that I’m painfully shy. I blush easily and rarely speak up. I like wearing clothes that make me inconspicuous. I’ve been called many things – sweet, clever, supportive, cowardly, empathic, timid, deep – but no one, not even my ex-boyfriend of eight years has ever called me horny. People have commented on my looks – pretty, proper, peculiar, pixie, pore posture – but no one has ever called me hot.

I started two days ago to read a bunch of stories from both men and women about masturbating in a mirror. They inspired me. This morning I re-read them and wondered if I could do something like that. The sliding closet door mirror was right there in front of me. I pulled off my pajamas and sat on the floor with my laptop, not doing anything yet, just re-reading the stories. After about fifteen minutes I looked up and saw in the mirror a woman I didn’t recognize at all.

Her hair was a mess. Her lips were chapped and red. Her eyes were wide and intense. She didn’t have the cute, pert, girly tits that you see in magazines scooped up coyly in bikini tops. She had hanging, lewd, womanly boobies with rubbery red nipples. She wasn’t cute. She had obscene hips and thick powerful legs. Her hands were not demure, but rather her fingers were long and bony like spiders legs crawling over her lily white skin.