Parallel Mirrors: Shards And Fractures - Sex Stories

Parallel Mirrors: Shards And Fractures

... the intensity of her orgasm, joined with the nameless, shapeless void of the all; the lusty power of the multiverse funneled erotic joy into and through her.

Obliterated, then reconstituted by passion, the crashing, furious hammering of blissful lust torturing her with ecstatic delight, Freya’s senses dissolved in sheer pleasure. She tasted desire, smelled sex, saw only heavenly pleasure, and felt only impassioned lust. Her carnal bliss consumed her, feeling primal and natural, and it coursed rampant and unfettered through her boiling veins. In both the single beating of her pulsing heart and countless infinities, the young woman floated through the horny ether, clouds of passion blanketing her heaving, undulating flesh until the world literally dissolved, leaving her glowing in a writhing, moaning, sated heap.

As her orgasm subsided, errant shards of Freya’s essence drifted back to her, reforming the mortal woman in flesh, blood, and horny passion. A moaning sigh, her vocal cords once more material, escaped her panting mouth. The young woman’s hands continued caressing her sexually heightened, nearly-perfectly-proportioned body, tugging on her swollen nipples, sloshing and fingering the wetness between her distended, swollen cunt lips.

When the college Freshman regained control over her body, Freya tentatively opened her eyes, a startled scream emanating from deep within her lungs. The painted brick walls of her ...

... ancient dorm room no longer existed. In their stead was a dark bedroom filled with black lace, dark-art posters, and lined with myriad mirrors. Before her, a large mirror with an ornate, gilded, and antiqued frame housed a full-length mirror, a single black candle burning brightly before it. Except for an artistic, inverted pentagram tattoo just beneath her breasts, she was still herself, but the entire world had morphed around her cumming body.

The walls of this spacious boudoir were painted a velvety black, the centerpiece being a large, Gothic-styled, four-post bed, its silken canopy a satiny blood-red with black lace trim. Silk blankets and lacy sheets adorned the queen-sized fixture. Dark pillows of black, scarlet, and emerald were precisely placed. A small, high-quality stereo, playing ethereal music, sat on a shelf suspended from the ornate Victorian ceiling by chains.

Mirrors were everywhere: rectangular, trapezoidal, round, oval, and with every type of frame imaginable. They clung to the walls, covering the majority of the blackness; some were even adhered to the ceiling, and large, unframed ones lined the wall behind the latticed metal head of the bed. Ropes, black and red, were tied to the headboard, a pair of cuffs dangling off of the top railing.

“Vain much?” Freya mused as she looked about, her fingers still circling her engorged clit. “It seems that I truly am crazy, after all.”

To be continued…