I’d never done anything like that before.

He told me to wear something tight. Said he wanted to see every curve, every reaction. I chose a black lace bodysuit — thin straps, sheer in all the right places, no bra underneath. I wasn’t wearing anything else.

When he opened the door, he didn’t say a word. Just stared. Let his eyes roam. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his bedroom.

There was a full-length mirror against the wall. He didn’t even look at the bed.

“Strip,” he said, his voice low. “But slowly. And face the mirror.”

I stood in front of it, skin already hot, nerves buzzing. I peeled the straps down one at a time, letting the lace fall until I was bare, fully exposed, watching my own body react. My nipples were already hard. My thighs already pressed together.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

I slid my hand between my legs and gasped. I was soaked. Watching myself made it worse — seeing my lips part, the flush rising in my chest, the way my body begged for his.

“Now come here,” he growled.

I turned, and he spun me right back around. “No. I want to see everything.”

He pushed me forward, bent me over just enough so I could see my reflection. His hands spread my ass, his cock hard and thick, already sliding between my folds.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he muttered. “All from watching yourself fall apart.”

Then he pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Stretching me open while I watched myself gasp and moan in the mirror. He filled me completely with one thrust, then started moving — hips grinding, cock dragging along every perfect spot inside me.

And I couldn’t look away.

My hands braced against the wall, legs shaking, pussy clenching with every deep stroke.

“You see how good you look getting fucked?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Watch how your body takes me. Watch what a perfect little slut you are.”

I moaned louder. My eyes locked on my own reflection — the way my mouth stayed open, the way my tits bounced, the raw pleasure on my face with every thrust.

He reached around, found my clit, and rubbed slow, filthy circles.

“You’re going to cum while watching yourself,” he growled. “I want to see your face when you fall apart.”

I was already so close. My legs shook, my hips rolled, and I begged through gasps, “Please—don’t stop—I’m so close—”

“Cum,” he said. “Now.”

I did.

My whole body tensed. My thighs trembled. I cried out, pussy pulsing around his cock while I came hard — all while staring into my own eyes.

He didn’t stop.

He grabbed my waist, fucked me harder, deeper, hips slamming into mine while I whined through the aftershocks.

“You’re going to take my cum too,” he said. “Watch yourself while I fill you.”

And I did.

When he came, he pressed deep, held me tight, and groaned my name as his cock twitched and spilled inside me. I could feel every thick, hot pulse, the mess already leaking down my thighs before he even pulled out.

We stood there for a second, both of us ruined, breathing heavy, cum dripping between my legs.

He kissed my shoulder, still staring at the mirror.

“Next time,” he said, “you ride me facing it. I want to watch you watch yourself beg.”

And I was already soaking again.