Parallel Mirrors: Infinity Mirrors - Sex Stories

Parallel Mirrors: Infinity Mirrors

... were real no longer germane, she threw back her head, tossing it wildly from side to side, completely lost in primal, instinctive hedonism. A tiny, silver strand of herself remained, all possibilities swirling around it, combining with it, altering her essence. Her growing pleasure didn’t result in a mortal orgasm. Instead, all the fury of her demon lover exploded around her, passing through her, and forever changing her. With her orgasmic mind receiving pleasure, she funneled it through the unspoken thoughts of her mood, her desires, and her will. Her universe-creating cum triggered the demon’s, and Choronzon sprayed and spurted his seed into her clenching hole, over her ass and back, painting her with his blessings.

Suddenly, as she wailed in cosmic release, the black, mirrored void reincorporated, the millions of mirrors exploding into shards, piercing her wildly contorting body with splinters of possible realities. Sensing, rather than seeing, Freya latched onto a vision similar to her home world, the reality she knew. A scream in reverse, time-traveling backward and curving onto itself, gravity reversing were all felt in tandem with the unholy pleasure of a soul-altering cum that left her perpetually horny.

An ominous, evil cackle filled her ears as the universe shuddered, reorganizing itself before her closed eyes. The gargantuan apartment she found herself in was akin to the one she and Cassandra once talked about renting when the band took off. The walls were a ...

... comforting lemon-yellow, multiple mirrors with wall-mounted before them lined the walls. Freya was seated in an archaic, hand-carved throne of a chair, her nude ass, still slick with Choronzon’s cum, seated on the plush, red velvet.

Her fiery hair bobbed and frizzed into a slutty, layered coif, the woman’s thighs were quivering in orgasm, her friend, lover, and band’s manager, Cassandra, kneeling between them as she fingered Freya to another orgasm, her molten tongue lapping at her sexual waterfall.

“That must have been one intense orgasm, my Freya, goddess of love. It was like you were in a whole different world. Are you, okay?”

Freya was finally more than okay. Comprehension somehow snuck in, during her massive, torrid, demonic fucking. She held the power within her, all along. Depending upon society's point of view, she was either utterly mad or touched by the gods. Her curse was her gift. Most can only change their reality by changing themselves because reality is merely a reflection of what we project. Conceived in ritual and born on the sacred, unholy solstice, Freya could shape her reality. All it would take was a mirror, a candle, and an intense, focused orgasm.

Paintings, by her own sex-possessed hand, lined the walls of their townhouse. A tall, gaunt, demonic John Dee, Choronzon to those who knew Him in his natural guise, stared at her from the canvases. She could feel his seed burning into her flesh, writhing in her pussy, and dripping down her thighs ...