It was quiet, and I listened to the soft whispers of the wind and the waves. I rolled to the side, and in the darkness of the room, my eyes were drawn to the mirror door of the closet. There was a figure there, reflected.I looked about the room, but there were no shapes save those I already knew intimately. However, in the mirror, there was a shape. A form. In the darkness it was indistinct, but there was a soft curve to it. It seemed to be looking right back at me, waiting.I slid my feet to the side, and dropped them to the floor, my eyes never leaving the shape in the mirror. I had to see, I had to know.I approached the mirror, and in the darkness, I could see my own shape as I approached. The figure seemed to be right next to the mirror, but I could not see anything there. The only evidence of a presence was the reflection, dark and insubstantial, but present.I moved closer, until my reflection almost overlapped the other. I stretched out my hand, feeling for something, but I felt. She looked down ashamed, her nipples standing out into sharp points, her dress unable to hide the arousal that he was inducing in her body. She felt her undergarments dampen in her desires. “Mmmm,” she tried to quench her moans as his fingers began to pinch the tips, his fingers finding the hard tips easy targets. She felt the sudden pain from the pinching quickly turn into something else, Anna afraid of her own desires. She looked down as his fingers twisted and turned her delicate nubs, a strange masochistic thrill running through her body. She felt relief when he released them from his powerful grip, but he was not finished. His fingers slid up to her naked bosom, goose bumps appearing on her exposed flesh as his fingers trailed over the wide expanse of naked flesh, running up and down the deep cleavage. Her legs felt like jelly, Anna barely able to stand, her body a mass of jumbled feelings.He enjoyed fondling her young body, seeing her fight the urges that his experienced.
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