The Mirror 22

"Want to do it tonight, darling?" Max asked.

"Sorry, honey, not tonight," Rebecca replied, soothingly.

"But darling," Max pleaded. "We haven't done it for a week, maybe longer."

"Tomorrow, perhaps, it's Saturday, I usually feel good on Saturdays. Hey! Saturday! Let's go to the Trash and Treasure place on the highway. Might pick up some nice stuff there."

"Nah, it's just junk."

"Tell you what, you come with me, we get a nice mirror or chest-of-drawers for our bedroom, and I promise we'll do it tomorrow, how about that?" Rebecca was good at using sex as a bargaining tool for getting a reluctant husband to do stuff for her. Perhaps without realizing it consciously, she found that the bargaining worked better if she kept him keen.

"OK, OK, sure."

Later that evening, as they lay together in bed, Max's hand started exploring Rebecca's tits, but got slapped away. "Tomorrow, darling!" she purred.

*

Max and Rebecca wandered around the trailers with their knick-kacks on display. After a while they found some nice large mirrors being sold by an old woman, wearing a strange sort of shawl.

"She looks like a witch!" Max laughed. "Look at all those designs on her! Aren't they pentagrams or something?"

"Shhh! She'll hear you and be offended." Rebecca shushed him.

"How much for the mirror?" Max asked the old bat, er, old woman. He pointed at one with an intricate design around its edges.

"Two hundred dollars, dear," the old crone wheezed.

"Cheap!" thought Max, but knew enough not to say anything like that. "A hundred and fifty," he haggled.

"One eighty," responded the woman. "I can't go any lower than that, I have a lot of cats to support."

"OK," laughed Max, handing over the cash.

*

They mounted the mirror in the bedroom. It added an element of class to the place, Rebecca thought.

That evening, Rebecca sighed as she remembered her promise of doing her conjugal duty. That is, sex. She loved Max, but he didn't really turn her on. She had hoped things would improve after they got married, but in bed Max was about the most boring person you could imagine.

"Ready, darling?" Max asked hopefully, once they were in bed.

"Sure," she replied. It was like dealing with a toddler asking for another serve of icecream.

Max did a quick grope of her tits, like, 15 seconds each, stuck his hand between her legs, did a quick feel. "Nice?" he asked.

"Lovely," she replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. At the same time she quickly wet her fingers and used them to lubricate herself before he stuck his cock into her. Moments later it was in, pushing urgently. She counted to 10. Bang! All over. As usual.

He lurched off her, turned over, and was snoring moments later. Rebecca rolled her eyes, sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Every bloody time. At least it was so fast she didn't even feel frustrated. Then she glanced at the new mirror, got some quiet pleasure from that. Well the fuck was worth it, to get some nice furniture for the room. Might have to think of what she needed to trade for his next one.

*

A couple of weeks later Rebecca lay in bed feeling a bit disoriented. She had already rejected Max's advances, again, with the result that he had turned his back on her in a huff. Something was different about the room. Moonlight was streaming in tonight, as it was the full moon, and was hitting the mirror, being on the opposite wall from the window. The mirror looked different somehow. That's it! The fitting must have shifted a bit, as it was now angled down slightly. As she looked at the mirror she could see herself, the bed, and Max lying in it.

No, wait! That wasn't Max. Or was it? In the moonlight it was hard to tell, but the Max in the mirror looked different somehow, leaner and darker skinned. Pffft! It must be the moonlight. Then the man in the mirror smiled at her, winked, rolled over to face her, and reached a languid hand to her breast, started stroking it gently. She felt the touch on her tit, somehow softer, gentler, much more erotic than Max's usual clumsy attempts.

"What are you doing, Max?" she asked, puzzled. She hadn't felt him roll over towards her.

"Huh?" he asked.

She glanced at her husband. He still had his back to her. But she felt the hand on her tit. Erk! Creepy. But erotic. She felt her face go hot. She glanced back at the mirror. The reflection was still groping her image in the mirror. The heat from the touch spread through her body, suddenly she badly needed to be touched by Max.

"Turn over, Max!" she hissed. "Fondle my tits!"

"Huh? What?" Max asked again. Maybe it was his lucky night after all. He rolled towards her, reached for her tits, did his usual 15-second grope and started moving onto the main course.

"Not like that!" she snapped. "Look, gentler. Softly, slowly. Ahhhh! That's nice." She guided his hand with hers, showing him what to do. Meanwhile her eyes drifted back to the mirror. The reflection-man was smiling at her, nodding in approval.

Max tried to move things along a bit. "Enough of this foreplay crap," he thought to himself. His hand moved down between her legs again.

She glanced back at the mirror. The reflection shook his head. The reflection moved closer to her image in the mirror and started running his tongue over her nipples, slowly, sensuously, looking all the time at "real" Rebecca, not reflection Rebecca.

"Suck my tits, Max," she commanded firmly. "Do it my way or no fuck tonight." The man in the mirror grinned broadly.

Max was puzzled. Rebecca didn't usually use strong language. Nor did she usually try to tell him how to make love. Men just knew, didn't they? They didn't need instructions, least of all from a woman. But, what the fuck! If he was going to get laid, he may as well do as he was told. After a week, begging for it gets a bit disheartening.

He moved his mouth onto her tits, started sucking. A few more hissed instructions from his wife and he started getting it done to her satisfaction. Meanwhile his own cock was standing at attention, longing for release. However after a while he started enjoying the foreplay. Somehow stretching it out was unexpectedly enjoyable.

Rebecca glanced at the mirror for guidance. Max's back was to the mirror, as he was facing her, so he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. In any case, he was looking straight at Rebecca's tits from about an inch away. In the mirror, her own reflection suddenly moved downwards and started sucking the cock of the man in the mirror, who closed his eyes with pleasure, but not before winking at her.

"Nuh-uh, I ain't doing that!" Rebecca said to herself. Suddenly a chill passed over her body, and the hot, erotic, feeling started fading. "What have I done?!" she thought in horror. She wanted the feeling back. "OK, I'll do it," she told herself. She immediately felt warmer, was rewarded with a moist feeling between her legs, and a slight tingle. Then a bigger tingle as if someone had briefly stroked her clit. She glanced in surprise at Max, she didn't think he even knew where her clit was. She was right, his hands were nowhere near her pussy.

She glanced back at the mirror. The man in the mirror was looking meaningfully at her — time to start sucking cock. The moonlight was stronger now. Before getting on with cocksucking she looked at the reflection more closely. She was sure it was a different man, his skin was darker than Max's reflection. Rebecca felt a little wriggle of pleasure.

"Here, Max, let me help you," she murmured. She shuffled down the bed and started kissing his cock, which by this time was quite hard. Quite erect. The moment she did, she felt the unseen hand stroking her clit again. But it wasn't Max's hand. Both of his were on her head, holding it against him. She glanced at her husband's face. His eyes were closed as if in some ecstasy. Unusual. He didn't normally do that.

Rebecca was confused, but deep in the throes of erotic euphoria. As she sucked Max's cock, she felt the hand from the man in the mirror, the man, the handsome sexy man, feeling around her clit. Were they real? Or just a projection? They

felt

real. Those soft fingers seemed to know exactly what to do. She felt really wet now, and the fingers moved gently backwards and forwards, on each side of her clit, and occasionally lingering softly on top. The fingers seemed to know what she was doing with her mouth, because the more she sucked Max's cock, the more they moved.

Carrot and stick. It was obvious what the mirror was doing to her. Follow its instructions and she would get pleasure, and by proxy, so would Max. Or ... was the mirror affecting him too? She couldn't be sure. And if she disobeyed the mirror, the pleasure would go away.

Guided by Max's moans, and the hot, wet tingling from her clit, she moved her mouth, tongue, lips expertly over Max's cock. She tasted the pre-cum. The flood of pleasure to her brain made her forget they were supposed to be fucking in the "traditional" way, she couldn't stop. The fingers on her clit didn't stop. She felt her own orgasm building, unstoppable. Just before she came she felt Max's hands clamp her head tightly, his balls tightened, his hips thrust hard into her face, and then his hot cum shooting down her throat. She just had time to swallow before it engulfed her, and moments later screamed into her own climax as the phantom fingers triggered the most intense orgasm she could remember.

They both collapsed into a post-coital sleep. Max didn't seem to notice that his wife had just come for no obvious reason, for which she was grateful. Less explaining to do, then, eh? Perhaps he just didn't understand women, she thought, with slight irritation. Well, the guy in the mirror certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

*

Next evening the moon was still bright, on a cloudless night. She glanced at the mirror as they got into bed, it just looked like an ordinary mirror with the room light on. Once in bed though, with the moonlight streaming over it, she noticed that her reflection had cuddled up to the man in the mirror in the spoon position, and was reaching around to his front, putting her hand inside his pyjamas.

She felt the heat immediately as the reflection did that, the erotic heat. She paused, not sure whether to follow the suggestion. After all, Max didn't expect a fuck two nights in a row. It would seem strange. The heat started to go away. "Oh well, no harm done," Rebecca thought. Or not, maybe. Suddenly she felt her calf muscle cramping up painfully. Shit! She tried to straighten her leg. No good. The pain was getting worse. She twisted, trying to relieve it. Spotted the man in the mirror frowning at her. She was being

bad

she knew. Not following orders. "I'll do it!" she gasped.

"Do what, darling?" Max asked sleepily.

"My leg, I've got a cramp!" she snapped at him. But the pain was receding, the mirror had got the message. It hovered around the mild level, waiting. She put her arms around Max. The pain subsided to almost nothing. She reached for his cock. The pain went away. She started stroking his cock. The warmth returned to her body, starting with her crotch, spreading upwards. She started to feel wet.

"Huh?" Max said, surprised.

"Lie still, darling," she coaxed, moving her hand up and down, trying to please him. Trying to please the mirror.

He was a bit stunned. Sex two nights in a row? Unheard of. He wasn't sure he could even do it. He tried to turn over.

She held him tightly. "Stay still, darling," she said, "please." She sounded slightly desperate, which was also strange. Oh well, he thought, maybe she was desperate for his cock inside her. That would be a nice change.

She kept stroking his cock, hoping this was what the mirror wanted. It seemed to be. The warmth started spreading through her body again, the pain a distant memory. His cock thickened, lengthened. His breathing became more rapid. She felt warmth, but the real pleasure hadn't started yet. What more was she supposed to do? She glanced up at the mirror, looking for a clue. Her reflection climbed on top of the mirror man, straddling him.

"Roll onto your back," she whispered, climbing onto him as he did so. She felt his hard cock against her, guided it into her with her hand. It slipped in easily, she was so wet. She started riding him. Hard. She gripped him tightly, not wanting him to slip out of her. It didn't take long for him to unload inside her, she felt the cum spurting deeply into her. Then he deflated, leaving her desperate for more. She needed the release, but her husband came too quickly. She glared at him, but he had closed his eyes, looking pleased with himself.

She got off, Max rolled over and was asleep within moments. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She felt on fire. Needed release. Then she felt the fingers touching her body, but not Max's. He was asleep. Ah, the mirror was rewarding her. For what, though? For fucking her own husband? Oh well, she needed it, so she let them work on her. The fingers, those soft sensuous fingers, were running over her stomach, moving down past her navel to her opening. To where her hot, wet desire was. The fingers moved slowly, slowing down the closer they got. Stopped, moved back up, teased her, moved down.

"Please!" she pleaded silently. "I need it. I did what you wanted." The fingers started moving downwards again, slowly, slowly inching towards her sex. Paused again. "I beg of you, I'll do anything you want," she thought towards the mirror. The fingers resumed downwards, seemingly satisfied. Started stroking her, sliding around on the wetness that was her cunt, playfully moved towards her clit. She stopped breathing for a moment, she couldn't stand it any longer. The fingers reached her clit, she started breathing again. She pushed upwards slightly trying to increase the pressure.

Now Rebecca felt hot all over, her mind, her body were all concentrated on those wonderful fingers. They felt better than anything she could remember. They slipped further in, but still pushed past her clit as they did so, touching it. As they moved back and forwards she felt herself building up, the heat in her loins became intense, she could feel her climax coming. She arched her back into the air, her hips pushed upwards, oblivious to Max, to anything. The orgasm exploded within her, the heat receded, she fell back onto the bed, exhausted.

A few minutes later, she recovered enough to glance at Max. Still fast asleep. Well, who needed him? "Thank you," she whispered to the mirror.

*

Next morning, with Max off at work, Rebecca was in the bedroom reaching for the foil strip containing this month's contraceptive pill. As she was about to pop the next one out she heard a voice saying, "No."

She glanced around in surprise. She was alone. She looked over at the mirror above the dresser, saw herself, but standing behind her this time, faintly, was the man from the mirror. Funny, she had never noticed him during the daytime. The man shook his head sternly at her.

"I'm taking the fucking Pill!" she said. "Max and I agreed, no kids yet." She popped the pill out, moved it towards her mouth. An incredibly strong spasm of cramp hit her calf muscles, doubling her over in pain. She dropped the Pill, it rolled away. Rebecca dropped to her knees, the pain was unbearable. She tried to straighten her legs, flex them, nothing was working.

"No Pill," the voice said. "I need his seed in you. Not corrupted by the Pill."

She tried to fight but the pain became so bad she knew she was about to vomit from it. She felt the bile building up, she was about to throw up all over the bedroom carpet. She couldn't move. "OK!" she screamed.

The pain suddenly stopped, leaving a dull ache in her calves. She glanced at the pill on the ground, a couple of feet away. The pain suddenly increased. "I'll just bin it," she pleaded.

"All of them," the voice said. "I can make you vomit them up if you try it, you know."

She grabbed the pill, threw it into the bin. Took the whole packet, threw that in as well. "Happy now?" she snapped.

"Very happy. Now your reward." The reflection moved behind her as she stood in front of the mirror, glaring at it. The reflection's hands moved around her front, caressed her breasts. She could feel them. She felt them move inside her shirt, touching her tits through the bra. "Take it off," the mirror suggested. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, unclipped the bra, dropped it on the floor. She saw the hands move softly over her breasts, warm, soft hands. Caressing, loving hands. Setting her on fire. The fire started in her chest, spread up to her face, then down to her legs.

One hand stayed on her right breast, the other worked its way between her legs. She parted them slightly, undid her top trouser button. The hand slipped inside, found her wet mound, started stroking it, rewarding her. She shuddered.

"I want his seed in you. Every night. It makes me stronger."

"Every night! No fucking way!"

The hand stopped stroking, just as she was about to come. The heat in her body was replaced by a cold, sinking, feeling.

"Keep going, please!" she begged. "OK, every bloody night. I doubt he can even do it."

"But you'll try, won't you?" the mirror asked, menacingly.

"OK, I'll do my best."

The hand resumed pleasuring her, moving more firmly. She felt another orgasm shudder through her. That must be the sixth in three days! She was getting used to it, starting to like having them that often.

~.~.~.~

A month passed. Rebecca found herself having short conversations with the mirror during the day.

"So who are you, anyway?" she asked it.

"You may call me Jack," the mirror replied.

"Jack," she murmured, savouring the word. "Why are you making me do this?"

"You'll see. In time we may be able to get closer together. Meanwhile ..."

She felt a twinge of pleasure as Jack's hand somehow stroked her clit briefly.

As ordered, Rebecca fucked Max every night during that month, felt his seed spurting into her. Filling her. Pleasuring her. Pleasing Jack. Obeying Jack.

~.~.~.~

"I'm feeling tired, darling," Max complained.

Rebecca had noticed that Max had seemed to be getting weaker. All that sex didn't seem to be all that good for him. But for herself, she felt more alive than ever. Looking in the mirror she seemed younger and younger, she thought. And Jack was becoming more distinct. He was there every night now, not just when the moon was out. Insisted that she fuck Max every night. Gather his seed inside her, in her womb. The womb that was no longer protected by the Pill. She wondered how long it would take before a little Max was growing inside her.

What would Max say when he found out? She was starting to wonder if he would say anything at all, he was looking so feeble. It was almost as if Max's life force was being transferred, from Max to Jack, via his seed, his cum. The seed that she milked from him, night after night. If Max demurred, she insisted, sucked his cock until it hardened enough to put into her, made sure she got him to come. If she failed, Jack punished her with leg cramps, headaches, dizziness. If she succeeded, Jack rewarded her. Always with a fantastic orgasm once Max fell asleep, exhausted.

Max had needed to take time off work, he could hardly get the energy to get out of bed in the mornings. She took him to see Doctor Baker.

"So what's the problem, Doc?" she had asked.

"Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, it looks like," replied the doctor. "There isn't really a cure for it. He'll need to rest for a while, see if it gets better."

*

Back home, Max was slumped in a chair, unable to get up any more. Rebecca had to feed him where he was. This was a

fine

romance! Spoon feeding your husband. Rebecca fumed.

That evening, she half-dragged him to bed, his legs barely able to stand. She pulled his clothes off, tried to get him excited.