Cupping her hands around her breasts once more, her legs would begin to writhe involuntarily as she began massaging them, her proud nipples pointing skyward through her fingers. Sliding one hand down onto her stomach she would then gently caress herself lower, teasing herself and her audience by edging closer and closer to her shimmering camisole. As her fingers danced around her naval and inner thighs, her buttocks would instinctively rise from the floor to greet them, such was her body's desire to end the torturous waiting game. With each mounting caress, her legs would open wider, allowing her fingers to explore further, and the view of herself in the mirror as she became more and more exposed to the eyes upon her only served to send her into a wild frenzy. Placing a firm palm over her underwear, she would cup her now soaking wet pussy and marvel at the heat she felt within. Her buttocks raised, she would begin thrusting against her hand, legs slightly bent at the knees and now fully apart. She would sense her audience now screaming with rapture and in response she would slide her hand inside her camisole and in one swift move raise her legs high into the air and rip the garment off in a flash.
Lowering her legs either side of the mirror she rested her hands on each of her thighs for just a second or two as she digested the sight in front of her. She would imagine the gasps of delight as each member of this private viewing saw for the first time her gleaming wet and totally clean-shaven pussy. Always when she saw herself like this for the first time would she imagine just how many of the watchful eyes were now unzipping their trousers and starting to play with themselves. The power she felt was overwhelming. She was extremely proud of the way she looked and because she found the sight of her own pussy such a turn on, she often wondered what a real audience would make of her. Such was her obsession and curiosity with herself, that she would sit up at this point in her show, her legs still either side of the mirror some 30 centimetres in front of her. She would reach out and reposition the mirror's angle so that her inner thighs and pussy now filled her field of vision. The close up view of her pulsating clit, growing before her eyes, would fascinate her. Never had she seen herself so intimately before she started playing this game. Her pussy lips would be fractionally open, visibly coated with her own freshly made juice, giving off her distinctively sexy, yet very feminine odour. She loved the way she smelled when she was aroused. And it saddened her that she was unable to convey her dirty scent to her audience. It was her smell that made her crave to be able to eat herself and she was sure that the eyes upon her would equally long to feast on her if they were able to inhale the beauty of the sight before them. As if in a gesture to demonstrate this, she would take the trouble at this point to cup one hand over her pussy and gently nestle one or two fingers between her lips. As the seal between her lips was broken, a steady flow of her creamy juice would ooze from within her, covering her fingers and filling the palm of her hand. When she had collected enough for the effect, she would hold her hand outstretched before the mirror and smear it down the glass, imagining the clamour of the many mouths behind the screen, licking and nibbling at her sticky fingertips, hungry to be fed. While she did this, she would coat the fingers of her other hand in the same manner and then feed herself. She loved the way she tasted and with her eyes closed she was able to imagine the sensation of the biting and sucking hordes about her fingers.
Now completely frenzied and eager to satisfy herself, she would begin wildly massaging herself with both hands, eyes transfixed on herself in the mirror. Her fingers would probe deep inside her lips from both sides, allowing her to keep her clit well lubricated with her juice. She would stroke her clit rhythmically between her fingers at the same time and her thighs began to heave up and down to this motion as she began a steady climb. She adored the wet sticky sound her pussy made around her fingers, as each penetration of her lips made more and more juice ooze out of her. Pulling her lips wide apart she would marvel at the deep fleshy pink entrance before her, the entrance to her soul. On and on she would pound at her clit, breathing more and more uncontrollably, her soft moans becoming louder and more urgent. Climbing higher and higher, she would begin to work faster and faster, eyes focused on her soaking wet pussy and stiff pulsating clit. In her mind her audience were going wild, many were now unashamedly stroking themselves with as much fervour as herself.
She could see through the mirror a number of faceless men, at least six of them, all with large erect penises pointing straight at her. Each one pulling at himself to the rhythm of her bouncing thighs. And at last, when she could hold back no more, her hands would slow, her legs would begin to spasm and her whole body would shudder as she let out a long low scream of pleasure. On and on her orgasm would send her into rapture. And in the mirror she would see penis after penis begin shooting their hot creamy cum all over the glass. As the energy drained from within her, the image of herself in the mirror would blur as if obscured by the sea of cum now streaking its way down the glass. As the sweat poured down her smiling, exhausted face she would lie back outstretched with her tired arms above her head. And to the sound of a momentous standing ovation from her fully satisfied audience, she would fall asleep...
It must have been some moments before I realised that she had finished telling her story, such was the effect of her mesmerising words. She had conveyed her fantasy with such passion and realism that I was still miles away, in her bedroom, staring at her sleeping body from within the mirror. As a member of her audience I had felt the full effect of her orgasm, for I believed I had cum too when she described the ejaculating penises before her. As I became aware once more of the drone of the aircraft's engines, it was with much relief that I realised that I had not in fact creamed my trousers. Regaining consciousness as it were, I saw her sitting close to me, head back against her seat, staring at me with a wild and wicked look on her face. She was revelling in the effect she knew she had had on me. Her face was glowing with satisfaction. If she had been in any doubt that she was going to be able to match my story, that doubt was now gone, such was her look of triumph. With each passing second back in the real world, I became all too aware of the agony of my pulsating penis, ever erect and quivering against my inner thigh. She seemed to sense my frustration in that same instant, for the expression on her face also changed to convey a total understanding of what we had done to each other. We sympathised over our predicament in silence, yet ever conscious that it was all our own doing.
