Claire woke up aching - that deep, pleasurable ache that could only be assuaged with a hard and merciless fuck. I haven't felt like this in years, she thought, loving the tingling in her pussy, not daring to open her eyes in case it turned out to be a dream. In fact, the last time she had felt this aroused was back in college; naked and soaped up with that fiercely sexy blonde - what was her name...Helena? Oh, Claire remembered moaning like a whore up against that shower wall. Almost felt Helena's expert fingers deep inside her again, hitting those secret spots over and over...

Then came graduation. Then came marriage. Then came five years of the missionary position, cursory cunnilingus, Tom's shining pink face screwed up as he hammered into her - taking all the pleasure for himself, leaving her with none. As she had been walking home the night before...well, wherever this was...she had been reflecting on how wild she used to be. Wondering what on earth had happened. 

That was when she had seen the sign hanging outside of the nondescript building opposite.

Unhappy With the Route You've Taken? 

Want to Rediscover your Passion for Life? 

Step Through the Mirror...Inquire Within.

Well...what was an unfulfilled woman to do? Claire smiled, eyes still closed in that unknown place, and remembered how she had walked so slyly through the door. How she had stood in that empty room before the huge mirror. It had covered the entire wall. 

On the floor a message had been painted.

What do you want?

Claire had looked at herself. Tousled red hair pinned into a severe bun, pale skin made paler through worry, a soft, curvaceous body hidden under sensible layers. She had moved her hands to her hips, felt their sensuous swell - how they used to roll and rise, making men grip them tight and beg for more. 

She had said in a broken voice, 'I want to be desired.'

Then the mirror was rippling, as clear as glass, and Claire had seen the world behind it. A sunlit forest, a path through the trees. 

It had been so easy to step through. It hadn't felt strange at all, only exciting - how she needed excitement.

And now, here she was, only just awake and already so turned on she wanted to thrust her fingers into her pussy and bring herself to a shuddering orgasm. She began to run her hands over her body instead, prolonging the thrill - and oh, there were surprises! Her hair was down, softly curling to her waist, her breasts - mmm, she thought, they're so ready to be sucked, bare like this - were heavy in her hands, nipples teasingly erect. Her waist - was this a corset? She smiled more widely; she had always wanted one of these. Tom had always hated them, had never saw the point. Well - she felt the restrictive silk, giggling - he isn't here now...

As her fingers began to trace the slick folds of her pussy, she suddenly thought, But I wonder who is here?

Her eyes flew open. She saw flowers, an open window, a cosy cottage interior from the pages of a storybook. By a crackling fire stood a tall, broad man with a face like a pirate. 

He was looking at her like he couldn't believe his luck.

****

Jethro had been having erotic dreams for months, so when he had stumbled across the half-naked woman lying in the woods he had first assumed that she was yet another nocturnal fantasy. There had been so many dream-women of late; writhing, bucking on his rock hard cock...and gone in the morning, always gone. When he had seen this goddess stretched languidly in the forest sunlight like some sort of delicious gift, Jethro had mentally fallen to his knees. In a matter of seconds, however, he had recovered his composure. There were dangers in these woods; wolves, wild boar, and worst of all the roving packs of bandits in service to the pretender King.

He had approached her, carefully, quietly, assessed her state - no wounds, just the gentle rise and fall of those beautiful, suckable breasts - Jethro, remember your training, he had scolded himself - and so he had wrapped her in a coarse woolen blanket from one of his packs.

He had ridden home on Fiero with the sleeping woman in his arms, making sure his patient horse gave them the smoothest possible journey. 

Jethro had barely been able to concentrate on the path ahead. The woman smelled of jasmine, and her face had kept reminding him of the soft-skinned, full-lipped sirens of his dreams. But he hadn't dreamed of them last night. Instead it had been...what had it been? A mirror. That was it. A large mirror, and someone staring into it whose face was not his own.

In the space of an hour Jethro had reached his solitary cottage, laid the strange woman tenderly on his own bed, lit a fire to brew tea. Soldier's tea, they had called it in the desert - it could bring a wounded man round and give him the fire to keep fighting. As he stirred, he felt old aches and pains reassert themselves. Twenty years, he thought, twenty years wedded to the sword for a king now dead, and all I have to show for it are scars and silver hair. 

Now he hunted, sold furs, and waited. For what he didn't know. Something like redemption, perhaps, for his past sins. 

Or else, death.

He heard a faint moan from the bed. On turning, he saw that the mystery woman had kicked away the blankets he had covered her with. Although the woman's eyes were still closed, Jethro could see that she was waking - and as much as he tried to stop himself, his eyes followed the woman's hands as she sensually caressed her own body. First, her long red hair - oh, Jethro thought, his breath catching, I could wrap it round my fists, bury my face in it - then her full, luscious breasts. The woman traced lazy circles around her nipples, and Jethro's mouth watered. Slowly, teasingly, her hands were making their way over her corseted stomach and down to her pussy. Her glistening pussy, smooth but for a neat strip of red hair. Jethro ran his tongue over his lips. He smiled without knowing it, matching the woman's gorgeous, feline smile. All of his thoughts, worries, regrets - they had vanished with every move this red-haired beauty made. 

Suddenly her eyes opened; a startling blue to Jethro's green. For a moment they were caught in each other's gaze.

At first, Jethro saw instinctive fear. His smile vanished; he wondered how to comfort her. But as he kept staring into the woman's eyes, he saw the fear fall away - replaced, he saw with wonder, by a dark, thirsty look. A proud look, almost queen-like. He felt his cock straining against his pants, and even though he was a strong, fully-clothed man in his own house, with his own life, he realised that the half-naked goddess on the bed with her hands still tantalisingly close to her pussy was in charge.

After Claire had recovered from the first flash of fright, she began to assess the man in front of her. Tall, muscular in a chops-wood-no-need-for-gym sort of way. Clothes like a historical re-enactment fair - the mirror took me back in time, she thought with a delicious thrill - with tanned and weathered skin. She saw scars on his arms, neck, even one on his cheek. Black hair, long enough to grip. A tough face, hardened through suffering, but with green-gold eyes that were looking into hers right now as if she was the most precious thing they'd ever seen. She saw hunger. She saw...worship. 

It was unbelievably arousing. Her smile returned. 

Claire's hands moved to the outer lips of her pussy. So sensitive, she gasped with pleasure as her fingers parted those sweet, dripping folds...

****

How did I do, guys? Fancy reading Part Two? :-) x