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Our Guilty Mirror
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I didn’t plan to say it. I just noticed that the thought had been sitting with me for a while, patient, waiting for a moment when we were relaxed enough to hear it without flinching.
We were on the couch, half-watching something forgettable. Her legs were across mine, familiar weight, familiar warmth. The kind of closeness you stop noticing until it suddenly feels important again.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
She smiled, easy. "You always do."
I took a breath. Not because I was scared, because I wanted to get it right.
"Do you ever think," I said, keeping my voice light on purpose, "about what it'd be like to want someone else… together?"
She turned toward me then. Really looked at me. I didn't move my hand from her knee. I needed her to know I wasn't pulling away. She didn't answer right away. That pause felt long, but not bad. Curious.
"What made you think of that?" she asked.
I laughed softly. "Okay, fair. I guess I realized it wasn't about anyone else. It was about us. About how much I trust you. About not pretending we're blind to the world."
Her fingers traced the stem of her wine glass. I watched her think, felt my heartbeat settle into something slower, steadier.
"If we ever talked about it seriously," she said, "I'd need rules."
Relief washed through me so fast it surprised me. "Good," I said. "I was hoping."
"No secrets."
"Never."
"No doing anything we couldn't talk about afterward."
"Agreed."
She smiled then. Not playful. Something warmer. Something that told me I'd done the right thing by trusting her with the thought instead of hiding it.
She leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing my chest. "You know," she said quietly, "this conversation is doing things to me."
I swallowed. "Yeah," I admitted. "Same here."
She shifted first, slow, intentional, turning her body toward mine until her leg was hooked there. I felt the pressure of it, the way she pressed closer instead of pulling back. Her eyes didn't leave my face.
"Listen, if you feel like bringing a slut to our bed, first you will have to bring a man…"
"That would be perfect," I replied immediately.
"Would you like to watch me…?" she asked.
"I always do while you are tasting me with your mouth and I look to your neglected perfect ass, imagining how more pleasure you could take," I replied.
She smiled, but it was different now. Less polite. More honest. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers spreading, feeling my breath change under her palm. When she leaned in to kiss me, it wasn't soft. It wasn't cautious. It was the kind of kiss that said she'd already decided something and was daring me to keep up. I kissed her back, slow at first, then she made a sound, quiet but unmistakable, and everything sharpened.
She moved again, settling fully against me, hips pressing forward just enough that I felt it. She didn't apologize. She didn't joke. She stayed right there, breathing faster now, forehead resting against mine.
"Okay," she murmured, almost to herself. "Yeah… this is not hypothetical anymore. Do you want me to suggest something?"
My hand found her waist, then her thigh, gripping a little harder than before. She reacted instantly, arching slightly, pulling me closer by the shirt like she needed the contact to ground herself.
"Anything you want," I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She shook her head, a small, restless motion. "Maybe we already have the perfect candidate," she said. Then, quieter: "Do you know Joseph, in the gym?"
"Your personal trainer? Did that motherfucker…" I replied with some anger.
Her fingers slid to my jaw, thumb brushing my lip as if she was thinking about it, about me, too much to keep still. She kissed me again, deeper this time, and when she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven.
She laughed softly, breathless. "Not at all. He is a gentleman. And he is delicious, we have to agree… Maybe he can complete this picture in our mirror when I taste your cock and your imagination flies with these kinky ideas…"
I held her there, feeling the way her body stayed pressed to mine, how she didn't even try to hide it anymore. The desire wasn't loud, but it was obvious. Present. Alive between us.
We fucked as we never had before, her teasing me the whole time about what we'd just talked about. And I was hornier than ever, penetrating her pussy hard as rock and faster with lust. We discovered our sexy nitroglycerine.
😊
An SDC member submitted this story to our "The First Conversation" Writing Contest. Join SDC today to meet the swingers behind the stories!
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