It’s fine though. Some people get to find the love of their life, like Nicolas and Dominic. Some, like me, don’t. People like me get to watch those people from a safe distance and live vicariously through them.
I blow out a long, accepting breath and peer back up into the eyes of the girl watching me with resignation.
“You have no one to blame but yourself,” I tell her. “You just can’t keep it together.”
Hollow to the pit of my stomach, I turn away from the gnawing truth glaring back from a spotless mirror and move to the bed. To my open bag with my clothes neatly folded on top.
I picked light things. The house is always an oven when Mom’s baking. It’s worse when she’s cooking at the same time. Plus, with the heat blaring through every room, anything else will only have me sweating through the layers.
Light and simple. Nothing that will upset Mom but won’t have me dying.
I scoop the articles up and pause, gaze fixed on the black microfiber bag nestled amongst my undergarments.
My brain tells me I don’t have enough time, but my body needs it. Needs the distraction. The release. For a second, I need to feel... just feel... something.
Seven inches of perfection. Smooth with a fat head and bendable center. It’s been my tried and true for three years and multiple times a day.
I set the mirror down across the carpet and attach the dildo to the glass. The phallus juts up, proud and ready for when I straddle it and the mirror.
My pussy is shiny and swollen. My opening weeps, dripping across the glass. My fingers slip through my lips and sink seamlessly into my channel.
“Fuck!” I whine, transfixed on the sight of my hole leaking around the digits.
With my free hand, I tease my nipples. I pinch and roll until I can’t take anymore.
Extracting my fingers, I climb onto my dildo and push myself down. Not with ease. Not with patience. I fuck myself with hard, ruthless pumps that hurt just enough to make me sob.
I shut my eyes and picture Nicolas and Dominic finding me like this. Catching me with my cunt soaked and stretched.
“Dirty little whore.” Dominic fists my hair and wrenches my head back. “You just can’t stop, can you? You need your pussy stuffed.”
“Open your mouth, whore.” Nicolas yanks down his zipper, grabs the back of my head and slams his cock down my throat.
Dominic drives my head. He slams me over his lover’s cock, forcing me to take every inch while I ride my toy.
I’m so wet I hit the base and grind. I’m leaking all across the glass, soaking the dildo while my fantasy men degrade and use me. As Dominic shoves me forward and stuffs his cock into my dry ass and makes me take it raw.
I imitate the fantasy with two fingers and wail his name. My pussy grips my toy as my climax rises.
“Harder, Daddy,” I choke, falling forward on the glass. The cold biting my nipples. “Fuck my ass. God, please. Don’t stop.”
My fantasy shifts, replacing the dildo with Nicolas. Both cocks pound into me, unsynchronized and brutal.
“Cum on my cock, you filthy whore. Cum on your brother’s dick and let me put a baby in your belly.”
“Nick,” I whimper, fingers slipping across cold glass. “Yes. Yes. God. I want it. Breed my pussy.”
I’m cumming.
Even as I beg my imaginary lovers to fuck me harder and fill me with their seed, I’m already spiraling. My cunt gushes, splattering across the mirror in a puddle as I bow forward and slam down over and over.
Gasping, whining, a shuddering collection of nerves, I pry my eyes open and stare down at the mess. At my swollen pussy still stretched around the dripping phallus. My clit twitches with the remaining spasms.
I reach down and give it a light stroke that tightens my muscles around the toy.
“Fuck, that was perfect.”
I yelp and jerk my head up to find Dominic in my open doorway. Meaty cock in one hand. His phone in the other.
