Page 16 of Just Past Two

Abby stood in front of the bed and stared at the large two-way mirror on the wall. All she could see was herself: long red hair, flushed skin, black cocktail dress hugging her curves. On the other side of that mirror was Sam, and maybe other people. She’d locked this door so no one else could come in. Here, she was alone, and whatever she chose to do, he’d be watching.

He’d be watching, and he might not be alone. She had no way of knowing.

That was the hottest part, honestly; the uncertainty tingled in her blood like the alcohol. Sam could be the only one on the other side of this mirror or he could be part of a crowd, everyone captivated by the sight of her. She might as well put on a show, right?

She reached behind her back to unzip the dress, then carefully, slowly, peeled it off her body. With each inch, she revealed herself to the mirror and the watchers beyond. It pooled on the floor, and she bent to toss it onto a nearby chair. She wore only a lace bra beneath it, no garter belts or stockings tonight, nothing to get in the way. The lace did not conceal anything about her full breasts and hard pink nipples, and she unfastened it to toss aside. Now she was naked, for God and everyone, her own body completely visible in this mirror. Not having to look at her audience was easier; she could imagine whatever she wanted, whether it was someone watching or not.

She imagined someone watching.

Her hands skimmed over her curves, lingering on her breasts, full and sensitive. She gently rolled her nipples between her fingers, eyes falling closed. Her nipples were a direct line to her clit, tiny sparks of pleasure escalating fast even without more contact. Her whole body tingled like a live wire tonight.

She needed more.

Abby lay back on the bed and turned her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror, one hand skimming down to her already swollen clit. Sam had turned her on so much, and the lightest touch made her gasp. She began to rub faster. She was going to come like this, for Sam and everyone, letting total strangers watch her in this most intimate moment. She’d never done anything like this before. She’d fooled around with boyfriends in public places, sure, mastered the whole Campus Twenty, but she wasn’t the one being pleasured, being vulnerable. She wasn’t the one being watched. Now, she was the object of their stares. It was enough to make her pussy drip.

If only she had a cock inside her. Reaching her other hand down between her legs, she slid two fingers inside to fuck herself. That felt so good, that width to clench around, not as good as a cock but still enough to make her sigh. Could they hear her? Maybe her sounds were amplified in there, the small room listening to every moan and gasp, every wet, slick sound of her fingers working in and out. She was already on the edge, body teetering toward climax, and she slowed down and forced herself to wait.

This was torturous, this edging, and she never did it with Sam. She let him take her to climax without delay, loving to share that pleasure with him, but sometimes when she was alone, she made herself wait. Just like this, holding off at the edge, lingering until she thought she might scream. Even now, her body yearned for that rush, that release, and she forced her breathing to slow, unclenching her muscles, fighting the gorgeous inevitability. Nothing else made her feel so out of control, so desperate. If Sam were doing this to her, she would do anything for him right now, yield to any of his wishes.

He could ask her to beg.

He could ask her to use a toy, to fuck herself on it for the amusement of her audience.

He could bring in someone else, another man watching her play with herself, and tell her to fuck him. And she would say yes.

She clenched reflexively once, pussy spasming around her fingers at just that thought, and that was it. Her climax slammed into her, doubly strong for having been delayed, and she curled up off the bed with the intensity of the waves. Her whole body tensed as pleasure-pain ripped through her, taking her breath in gasps and cries, leaving her wracked with trembling so fierce she couldn’t stop. It went on forever, waves and waves of spasms, the climax wringing her out until finally, she collapsed back on the bed.

She took a few moments to come back to herself. The mirror stared back at her, revealing nothing but her own exhausted form, until she finally rose to clean up and get dressed.

Sam met her in the hallway. He was waiting there, face flushed, cock a hard line in his pants. “Fuck,” was all he said before pulling her into his arms and kissing her, hard.

They stumbled down the hallway back toward the bar, tumbling through the door into the bass-blasting music and patterned lights. A couch was open, and Sam was already pushing Abby down onto it before she could catch her breath.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked, already pulling at the hem of her dress. “I want to be inside you.”

“Yes, God, yes.” She had just come, but his desperation had her hot all over again. Sam freed his cock and rolled on a condom with fumbling fingers before thrusting, hard and long inside her.

It was messy, fast, frantic, and Abby could barely keep up, gasping for air as Sam fucked her hard on this couch. He reached between them to find her clit, still too sensitive, but the pain sparked inside her like pleasure, and she was climbing to orgasm again before she could catch her breath. She came in another rush of intensity, squeezing around his cock, and Sam groaned and cried out before coming inside her.

He sagged on top of her, and they both lay together, panting. Finally he said, “Holy shit.”

Abby started laughing. She couldn’t help it. She started shoving at him, still chuckling. “Get off me. We’ve got to clean up.”

…

They’d both lost their drinks somewhere along the way, so when they had recovered, Sam ordered them some new ones from the bartender, who didn’t make a big deal at all out of the fact that he’d just seen them fuck like crazed animals on the couch in the corner of the room. He and Abby composed themselves and sat together on that couch, way more relaxed than before, drinking their drinks while the music thumped all around them.

“So.” He twirled a strand of her long red hair around his finger, and she leaned into the touch, smiling lazily. “You having fun?”

“I’m doing all right.” Her cheeky grin implied she was doing more than all right. “How about you? This living up to your fantasy?”

A twinge of guilt flickered in Sam’s stomach. This wasn’t one of his fantasies, not exactly. He’d chosen something sexy, something wild, something he’d been curious about, but it wasn’t like he had been jerking off thinking of Abby at a sex club.

Although, after watching her through that two-way mirror, he’d be thinking of it in that situation a lot more in the future.

He let the lock of hair drop from his finger, then stroked his palm over the back of her head. “Everything I’d hoped for.” It wasn’t a lie; he’d hoped they would both have a good time, and this had far surpassed what he considered to be “a good time.”

He’d had a sense about her exhibitionism kink, teasing it out through little hints, but she had been even more into it than he’d expected. They’d watched each other in the past, but never like this, never with this level of intensity and the public element. Now that he’d seen her perform, lose herself in the act of putting on a show, he wanted more of it.