Manette told me that as wine was a great reviver of the spirits and provocative of love, she would go and bring me some, telling Rose to ply me plentifully with it. She went, and soon returned with a tray of wine, cakes, &c, and retired, wishing us "a happy night of it."When Manette retired I locked the door, then drawing up a sofa to the table I led Rose to it, and seating myself by her, endeavoured to put her at her ease by not proceeding to any liberties at first, till I had plied her with some half-dozen glasses of wine. After she had drunk pretty freely, the natural vivacity of her character began to show itself, in her open and free conversation. I now put my arms around her waist and neck, and pressing her close to my breast, imprinted burning kisses upon her rosy pouting lips. I then slipped one hand into her bosom, feeling and moulding her firm round bubbies. After dallying thus awhile I stooped and slipped a hand under her chemise, raised her clothes up on her knees.. I inhale the scent. I look directly into the mirror and meet my own gaze … and smile wickedly. I drive my fingers back into my pussy and masturbate furiously for minutes, my thumb bumping against my clit, my arousal instantly spiking. Again, I pull my fingers out but this time bringing them directly to my open mouth. I watch the fingers enter my mouth, the lips close around them, and my cheeks hollow as I suck the slickness and the taste from them. All the while my eyes are fixed on my eyes through the mirror: tempting, teasing, entreating.My breathing has become faster and heavier. I see my ribcage expand, my breasts rise and fall. A light sheen has formed on my body in the warm air washing over me from outside. My need, my arousal, my surrender is obvious. I plead to my own image, “I need to cum! I need to orgasm! PLEASE!”A new shadow passes by the foot of the bed, the mirror becoming fussy for a moment. It is nothing, just a shadow, a movement of the sheer curtain and moonlight. A.
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