Reflections of Passion
I had always considered myself a confident and adventurous woman, but one quiet evening at home, a simple television show ignited a new flame of desire within me. It was a warm summer night, and I found myself flipping through the channels, seeking some entertainment. The usual late-night fare failed to capture my interest until a vintage 1970s show caught my eye.
The program was a bold, unapologetic display of human sexuality, a relic from an era when such content was considered taboo. As I watched, a particular scene unfolded that would forever change my perspective on pleasure. A woman, not unlike myself, lay on a bed, her body illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. But what truly drew my attention was the large mirror affixed to the ceiling above her.
In that moment, I felt a stirring deep within, a yearning to experience the uninhibited freedom portrayed on the screen. The idea of being able to watch myself, to witness every intimate detail of my body during the act of lovemaking, was both thrilling and intoxicating. I knew I had to have a mirror just like that.
The next day, I set out on a mission to bring my newfound fantasy to life. I visited several home decor stores, searching for the perfect mirror. I wanted something large enough to capture every inch of my body, yet lightweight enough to be installed on the ceiling without causing any structural concerns. After much deliberation, I settled on a sleek, modern design with a subtle silver frame. It was perfect.
Now, all I needed was someone to install it. I contacted a local handyman, Patrick, who came highly recommended by a friend. I explained the task at hand, feeling a slight blush creep up my cheeks as I described the mirror’s intended purpose. To my surprise, Patrick seemed intrigued rather than shocked. He confessed that he had never installed a mirror above a bed before and was curious about the idea.
“Well, it’s for, you know, enhancing the experience,” I said, feeling a bit awkward but determined to see this through. “I want to be able to see myself while I’m, you know, engaged in certain activities.”
Patrick’s eyes widened, and a mischievous smile played on his lips. “I see. And do you need any help testing it out once it’s installed?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his boldness. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? But first, let’s get it up there.”
He arrived at my home the following afternoon, equipped with his toolbox and a playful glint in his eye. I led him to my bedroom, a space I had carefully curated to reflect my love for luxury and comfort. The bed, draped in silk sheets, sat in the center, awaiting its new addition. As Patrick examined the ceiling, I couldn’t help but notice his strong, calloused hands and the way his muscles flexed beneath his work shirt.
“This should be no problem at all, Ms. Sharon,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “I’ll have this mirror up in no time, and you can start enjoying the view.”
I bit my lip, feeling a rush of anticipation as I imagined the possibilities. “Please, call me Sharon. And yes, I can’t wait to see it in action.”
He got straight to work, his movements efficient and confident. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him climb up a small ladder, his jeans hugging his muscular thighs. The sight of him working above me, his focus entirely on the task at hand, was unexpectedly arousing. I felt a warmth between my thighs, a subtle throbbing that signaled the awakening of my desire.
Within an hour, the mirror was securely attached to the ceiling, reflecting the room back at me in perfect detail. I stood on the bed, gazing up at my reflection, imagining the scenes that would soon unfold beneath this new addition. Patrick climbed down from the ladder, his eyes never leaving my body.
“There you go, Sharon,” he said, his voice husky with unspoken desire. “All done. Now, how about that demonstration you mentioned?”
I felt a surge of boldness course through me, a desire to embrace this new, uninhibited version of myself. “Why not? After all, you did the hard work, and I’d hate for your efforts to go unappreciated.”
I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I straddled him, my legs on either side of his hips. The position was undeniably intimate, even through the barrier of our clothing. I could feel the warmth of his body beneath me, and the bulge in his pants pressed against my core, leaving little to the imagination.
“Like what you see?” I asked, my voice laced with a challenge as I gazed down at him.
Patrick’s eyes locked with mine, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Oh, I do. But I think I’d enjoy the view even more if you showed me what this mirror is really for.”
I smiled, a slow, seductive curve of my lips, and began to move my hips, grinding against him, feeling his hardness through the layers of fabric. His eyes fluttered shut, and a soft groan escaped his lips. I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his chest, and whispered in his ear, “I think I can accommodate that request.”
With nimble fingers, I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest that begged to be touched. I ran my hands over his skin, feeling the contours of his muscles, and then trailed my fingers down to the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath as I undid the button and slowly lowered the zipper, his erection straining against the confines of his boxers.
“Impatient, are we?” I teased, my voice dripping with honeyed seduction.
In one swift motion, I pushed his jeans and boxers down, revealing his thick, throbbing cock. It stood proudly, the head glistening with pre-cum, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers along its length, eliciting a guttural moan from Patrick.
“Oh, Sharon, you’re killing me,” he groaned, his hands gripping the bedsheets.
I straddled his waist, positioning myself above his shaft, and slowly lowered myself, taking him inch by inch into my wet heat. His eyes rolled back as I enveloped him, the sensation of being filled by his hardness overwhelming me. I began to ride him, my hips moving in a slow, torturous rhythm, my breasts bouncing with each thrust.
“Look up, Patrick,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire. “Watch us in the mirror. See how good it feels.”
He obeyed, his gaze flicking between my face and our reflection. The sight of my body moving in unison with his, the mirror capturing every detail of our coupling, was a powerful aphrodisiac. I leaned forward, my hands braced on his chest, and kissed him hungrily, our tongues dancing in a passionate rhythm that mirrored our bodies.
As our passion escalated, I increased the pace, my hips slamming down onto his, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. The mirror reflected our passion, showing every detail of my body as I rode him, my breasts heaving, my eyes closed in ecstasy.
“Oh, Sharon, I’m close,” Patrick gasped, his hands gripping my hips, guiding my movements. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
“Let go,” I urged, my own climax building. “Fill me, Patrick. I want to feel it all.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he surrendered to his pleasure, his cock twitching as he emptied his hot seed deep within me. I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me in waves, my body trembling as I rode out the aftershocks.
We lay entangled on the bed, our hearts racing, our breath coming in ragged gasps. I turned my head to look at the mirror, our sweat-sheened bodies still entwined, and felt a sense of satisfaction and liberation.
“Well, I’d say the mirror passed the test,” I said, my voice laced with satisfaction.
Patrick chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Indeed it did. And I must say, Sharon, you certainly know how to make a man feel appreciated.”
I smiled, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment and confidence. “It’s all about the right tools for the job, Patrick. And you, my dear, are quite the handyman.”
As he got dressed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that this mirror would provide endless opportunities for pleasure. And as for Patrick, well, I had a feeling our paths would cross again, perhaps for another ‘installation’ or two.
