Friday Night: Her Reflection in the Mirror

The vanity is cluttered with her makeup, the mirror reflecting her half-naked body. She’s sitting there, bra and low-rise bottoms, midriff exposed, shoulders bare. The lighting is harsh, casting shadows that dance across her skin. I can almost hear her thoughts, the way her mouth is slightly open, lost in some fantasy. She’s not just getting ready; she’s preparing for a conquest. And I’m here, watching, waiting, my heart pounding with a mix of dread and anticipation. This is our game, our twisted dance. She’s the star, and I’m the supporting act, the cuckold in the wings.

Her Eyes Promise a Night of Submission

Her eyes in the mirror, they’re not just looking at her reflection; they’re seeing him. The guy she’s gonna bring home, the one she’s gonna fuck. I can almost see him there, standing behind her, his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck. She’s gonna let him do whatever he wants, and I’m gonna watch. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be in the other room, listening to the sounds of their pleasure, my own cock hard and aching. It’s a sick game, but it’s ours. And as she finishes her makeup, applying that final coat of lipstick, I know she’s ready. Ready to leave me here, ready to go out and find him. Ready to fuck him, to make me watch, to make me clean up after. That’s the deal, and I’m stuck in it, a willing participant in my own humiliation.