Another Time, Another Place

Virgil watched the tears begin to fall from April’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He hugged his wife and gave serious thought to getting a penis extension. April jumped from the bed as a thunder rumble sounded. She looked back at her man who had already started descending to Neverland even as he watched her back away to the bow window. She sat in the bow window for a short moment with her head resting on tucked knees. Her head turned toward Virgil’s snore sound, a sound that tonight disgusted her.

Heavy raindrops danced and sounded on the windowpanes as they splashed into a million molecules. April watched the hypnotic act for a brief moment before entering the bathroom. She threw a face cloth into the sink, turned on the hot water, and then ran a finger through her wetness.

I taste good, she thought, after removing the finger from her mouth.

She grabbed the hot face cloth and wrung it out bravely. The steamy water that fell from her fingers was too hot for an average bath, yet she endured the burning sensation. She then folded the cloth in half, took a long wiping stroke through her haven’s juices. She sucked the nectar from the cloth as if she was extracting microfibers from the item. April dropped the cloth into the sink, closed her eyes as one hand caressed her breast while the other massaged her womanhood until she created more tasty treats to taste. She repeated the heated-cloth, pussy-juice maneuver until the taste of her secretion had dissipated. She looked at herself in the mirror, and ran a thumb across the flesh mole under her right eye.

“Damn, the storm is getting closer,” she said aloud upon hearing perfume bottles rattle because of the thunder.

Virgil continued to call hogs. He was unaffected by the noise that could wake the dead. It was a good thing. April wasn’t satisfied. Her needs had to be satisfied and she knew exactly what had to be done. She straddled the pedestal sink and felt blessed that it could hold her weight. The reflection back was sensual, aided by the dark grayish moonlight rays shining through the window that flickered with each flash of lightning. She danced two fingers in a circular waltz inside her haven until sounds of wetness invaded her ears. She put the fingers into her mouth as if the fingers were the spoon that stirred the stew. The same two fingers then separated her lower lips, spread them as far as her fingers allowed. She pulled her fingers upward and her clitoris moved forward as if it was attached to a pendulum. She shoved the other hand’s middle finger into her wetness, and then caressed the exposed cherry with the lubricated finger. April’s sensations rose in little time. Her hips moved to the self-induced stroke as she touched the clitoris softly at first, then plucked it like a musician on a bass guitar string. She gazed at the intense look in the mirror. With each strum of the solo instrument her expressions intensified. The varying sensuous looks became hypnotic. She watched herself watch back. The area between her eyebrows wrinkled with the increasing circular motions her two fingers made on her jewel. April’s breathing became thick and heavy. She leaned forward, her head less than a foot from the mirrored glass. The reflection in the mirror slowly vanished as if she performed a magic act because of the condensation from the heavy breathing in her excited state.

Her expression prior to the climax seemed to intensify, electrified her own arousal. Oddly, the reflection vanishing in the mist told of an explosion just seconds away…ticking like a time bomb. One would think as much as she adored storms that the lightning strike just outside of the house would have been the lever that opened her orgasmic flood gates. Instead, the loud bang, the slight house tremor, and the sound of bottles and things tumbling in the medicine cabinet startled her. She released a tiny scream. Somehow, she ended on her butt sitting on the bathroom floor.

That was very close, she thought.

She stood up and peeked into the bedroom. Virgil remained out like a light. The only difference in him was, he’d moved from his left side to the right side. April looked at herself once more in the mirror. The reflection seemed to speak, “Make me sing!” Therefore, she intended to capture the identical intense erotic expression of moments ago. Her womanhood remained moist and hot. She knew in a manner of seconds, she’d be back to the near climactic state.

She straddled the sink a second time and immediately started the process of picking up where she had left off. She paid full attention to her jewel. Instantly a tingly sensation rose from the toes, up the legs to the pulsating walls of her womanhood. Again, the sight of her turned-on expression ignited even more passion within. Her blood boiled. April’s open mouth, flared nostril, passionate eyes and the scar above her left eyebrow had great sex appeal. She exploded hard and uncontrolled; her legs trembled so violently that the soap dispenser vibrated and fell into the sink. She continued the motion on her clitoris until she couldn’t withstand her own action.

April leaned forward, rested and supported herself with her forehead against the medicine cabinet’s mirror. She panted heavily and took long, slow deliberate breaths in an attempt to regain normal breathing. After a short while, she lifted her head, wiped the lingering condensation from the mirror with the face cloth and directed her attention to the mirror’s image. She ran fingers through her hair from front to back and was very satisfied with the pleasure she gave herself. April looked intently at her reflection.

“I don’t have a scar above my left eye,” she spoke aloud.

April jumped from the sink, turned on the bathroom light and returned to the mirror to investigate under better lighting.

FOUR

Ariel was startled when Steven turned on the bathroom light.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m just looking at myself in the mirror.”

“Yeah, you look confused by that or you’re embarrassed because I’ve watched you finger-fuck yourself while admiring your work in the mirror. Riding my dick isn’t good enough anymore? You have to straddle a sink like it’s a fucking horse.”

Ariel turned toward her husband. With his tone and posture, embarrassment wasn’t the emotion that swept over her. It leaned more toward fear. She had gone through a ritual. She had more than pleased herself and was pretty much wiped out from her act because her self-induced orgasm closely followed one from the lovemaking session between her and Steven. Her erotic state started to dissipate when she became confused by her reflection in the mirror. As she walked toward the bedroom, she ran a thumb across the scar just above her left eyebrow and felt things were normal. She’d swear her childhood injury scar was replaced by a beauty mark mole under her right eye.

“I saw a mole when I climaxed,” she spoke aloud.

The eeriness that consumed her when she fell to the floor, spooked by the close lightning strike, seemed like a reflection of another place and time. She kept the strange thoughts to herself because truthfully, it sounded crazy to her.

Steven’s mood can’t handle my notions right now, she said mentally to herself.

“No violence,” Ariel spoke as she passed Steven.

Steven gazed upon her as if she’d lost her mind.

How dare you, he thought. He was appalled by the insinuation.

“Don’t tell me,” he scolded her. Each word was accompanied by what he considered a mild tap on the back of her head. “…what to do,” he continued with three more corresponding smacks. The last one was a shove that quickened her descent to the bed.

“Stop it!” Ariel snapped. “I’m not in the mood for this. Alright!”

She climbed under the covers, laid on her left side and gazed at the flashes of light through the bow window. Steven grabbed the corners of his pillow, and repeatedly struck her on the head in a one-man pillow fight. He called his spouse everything under the sun except a child of God.