Ria's Writing: His Turn (Kink of the Week, Masturbation Monday, & Wicked Wednesday)

Since I used a mirror in "His Eyes Only," I tried to think of a different way to incorporate it for the Kink of the Week theme. I played with this idea before in my story "Restitution," which appears in Best Women's Erotica, Volume 1. The tone of this one is feistier, because I thought it worked for this story—and maybe because I was just in that kind of mood.

This one didn't start with the title, but that came pretty quickly. I thought of the premise and then the first line came to me. As it sometimes happens with me, the ending developed immediately, along with the title. I've learned the hard way to write things down as they occur to me or I lose them, so I wrote a little of the beginning, then jumped to the ending and wrote that very quickly because the scene was already pretty well fleshed out in my mind. Then I went back to the beginning and fleshed that out a little more before filling in the juicy middle. Whatever works, right?

I managed to get a little of the Wicked Wednesday "doppelganger" prompt in there too. And I'm linking it to Masturbation Monday, too, even though it doesn't involve the prompt, unless you count a very brief mention of a book. But hey, it's Monday and it involves masturbation, so I'm going with it.

Please click on the badges below the story to read all the other offerings!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)

Website: http://www.riarestrepo.com

Twitter: @RiaRestrepo

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RiaRestrepoAuthorPage

His Turn

By Ria Restrepo

He was trying to make me sweat. Trying to make me worried enough that I'd do anything to get myself out of this mess—even reveal all my secrets.

I certainly wasn't opposed to getting to know each other better, but this wasn't the way to do it. It was like a little boy pulling a girl's pigtails to get her attention.

He knew very well that I had nothing to do with that robbery. The idea that I was a prime suspect because my bookstore was right next door to the jewelry store was absurd. What would I do with a diamond tiara? Now, a rare first edition of Lady Chatterly's Lover…that was another story. But I was no thief.

And yet, there I sat in a police interrogation room, staring at my own reflection in what I knew was a two-way mirror. I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to break and start squirming. He wanted me nice and complaint before he returned and made his move. I may have been the quiet, bookish type, but I could also be quite willful and he was about to learn that the hard way.

My patience was running thin, though. How long had I been waiting there, anyway? I looked at my watch. A fucking hour! Unbelievable.

Okay, fine, if he was going to stay in there watching me, I'd give him something to watch. And maybe even force his hand.

I got up and leisurely walked around the metal table, putting a healthy swing in my hips. Facing the mirror, I boosted myself up onto the tabletop, my legs dangling off the edge. My already short skirt slid up high on my thighs. Supporting myself with one arm, I leaned back a bit, then traced the fingers of my free hand down my neck to the first button on my blouse.

Pausing there, I toyed with the button, giving him a chance to stop me, daring him. When nothing happened, I unbuttoned it, then another, and another, until my blouse was gaping open. I stayed like that for a few pounding heat beats, again wondering if he'd intervene, or if he was enjoying the show too much.

I was uncomfortable looking at my reflection. It made me self-conscious and I couldn't quite meet my own gaze. I found myself looking off to the side, where I imagined he stood watching me. For some strange reason, that spurred me on and made it easier to go even further.

With a flick of the wrist, I unclasped the front of my bra, then pushed aside the lacy cups. My bare tits quivered with each quick breath. I made a big show of sucking a finger deep into my mouth, completely coating it in saliva.

Was he hard yet? Was he rubbing himself through his pants? Or did he already have his cock out, his hand gripping it fiercely while he worked it in long, firm strokes? Was he imagining his dick in my mouth instead of my finger, jerking off while thinking about me sucking him?

The thought of him stroking his cock made my cunt clench and flood with juices. Pressing my thighs together to take the edge off, I brought my wet finger down to my nipples and circled the taut flesh, making it nice and slick.

I did the same with the other nipple, then took it between my fingers and squeezed it—softly at first. As I increased the pressure, pleasure-pain reverberated throughout my body. An answering sensation in my clit forced a low moan from deep in my chest.

Needing more, my horny cunt begging for attention, I spread my legs wide apart, causing my skirt to bunch at my hips. Abandoning my nipples, I reached down and pulled the soaked lace aside, exposing my creamy slit. I was so turned on, I didn't hesitate before delving between the slick folds and gliding my finger over my clit, savoring the decadent feeling.

My gaze drifted over to my reflection. I was so shocked by what I saw I froze for a second. Who was the wanton creature in the mirror? Surely it wasn't me, but some carnal doppelganger. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with lust, her flesh was rosy with arousal, and her chest heaved with excitement.

Of course, I knew it was me. I'd just never seen myself like that before. Looking down, I saw my fingers between my cunt lips on either side of my swollen clit. I masturbated all the time, but this was the first time I'd ever watched myself. It was surprisingly hot.

I resumed circling my clit, occasionally dipping into my drenched cunt hole, gathering more juices. The sight of my fingers sliding over and around my tender nub was transfixing, not to mention the intoxicating sensations rippling through me from my own touch.

Straightening a little, I used my other hand to torment my nipples while I finger-fucked my pussy. With the added stimulation, my pleasure built quickly. My gaze jumped from my cunt, to my tits, to my flushed face, and back again. Remembering that he was behind the glass, observing the same erotic spectacle I was, pushed me over the edge and I came with shuddering cry.

For several long moments, I stayed like that, enjoying the delicious aftershocks, my eyes closed and my head tilted back. As my orgasm ebbed, I looked up to see a lazy smile playing on my lips.

Once more, my gaze shifted to where I knew he still lurked. Did he come too? Was his side of the mirror dripping with his thick spunk? My reflection and I grinned wider at that thought.

After straightening my clothes, I slid down off the table and sauntered over to the mirror. My hands braced on the ledge, I slowly leaned forward and kissed my slutty doppelganger, leaving a trace of lipstick behind.

Then I turned around and leaned against the mirror, waiting—again.

A few moments later, I heard the door unlatching. It eased open and there he was, looking much hotter than he should in my irritated frame of mind. His silver hair was mussed from finger-combing it repeatedly, and he wore charcoal slacks and a blue shirt the same color as his eyes.

I couldn't help smirking when I saw his fly was open.

"You're free to go."

My gaze snapped up to meet his. "Just like that?"

"We made an arrest and recovered the tiara."

I narrowed my eyes. "When?"

His mouth slowly curved into a wicked grin. "Half an hour ago."

Arrogant, fucking…bastard!

Seeing red, I pushed past him and stormed off down the hall, my heels rapping on the linoleum like rapid gunfire.

"What time should I pick you up for dinner?" he called after me.

I flipped him the bird over my shoulder.

He chuckled. "Ah, come on, don't be like that."

I knew I'd surrender eventually, but it was his turn to sweat.