Mercy Fuck from Cassidy
The essence of our exploration was that my deep attraction to her would be turned back to myself. We were lovers on the theme of my being my own lover.
THE SAGITTARIAN BEAUTY Cassidy arrived to help me find my way to mirror celibacy. This was our tacit understanding. It was almost as if we had preplanned it, or had done it before. On the way up from the airport, I began to tell her everything — the story of the mirror.
She spent the summer living in Blue Studio. When I was there, I was her guest. She was attracted enough to come all the way from Hawaii to me. So there was something…and I was responding to her with every cell in my body and soul.
The essence of our exploration was that my deep attraction to her would be turned back to myself. We were lovers on the theme of my being my own lover. We were both aware of the depth of my resonance for her and my developing need for her. My growing attachment, craving and love.
And in her masterful way, she became my mirror and guided my urgency back onto myself. I would have to manage my need for her to some extent, though she kept turning me back on myself, reminding me what our relationship was to be about.
I was not ready at that time to surrender the possibility of fucking women; or of surrendering yoni back to the goddess; though at this point I was proceeding one encounter at a time, and Cassidy was aware of her role in this process. She was aware of her role in it.
One of the first things we did together was a nude mirror photo session. On her second or third evening at Blue Studio, Cassidy said she wanted to make photos and asked if I would come over.
It was a hot, languid night. I arrived and set up my camera. She took off her jeans and slipped into her own reflection wearing a tank top and cotton undies and explored into the mirror.
I was now holding space for her self-witnessing, and the beauty of her uncertain eyes questioning her existence. Slowly, in her gentle way, she showed me who she was, as I photographed her one frame at a time. Her face morphed between demure and embarrassed; curious and confident. These expressions turned out to be revealing of an inner contemplation.
Her nipples were thick and erect and assertive, pushing through the sheer fabric of her top. She invited me to undress, and be naked while photographing her. I did this without hesitating.
Then she did something which I was not expecting: slipped out of her panties, and knelt up with her knees apart, gazing into her most beautiful vulva in her reflection. Her outer lips were thick and large. She was wide and also long, seeming to stretch endlessly from her pubis until her labia disappeared underneath her. Her inner lips projected outward, fully exposed and parted open.
My soul in all my lifetimes wanted to suck her into my mouth and love her.
Then she turned around, and with her knees spread wide, pressed her breasts into the bed, giving me a view from behind — including boldly exposing her asshole. I wanted urgently to dip my tongue into her, taste her everywhere and take a sip of her gathering moisture. Sip, drink and swallow her…I wanted to suck her plump nipples and cup her most exquisite breasts.
More than that, I wanted to plunge my cock into her magnificent hips and relax totally, and fill her up. I wanted to go deep into her and release my existence into her…to merge into her. She knew all of this. She knew the effect she was having on me. To some extent she had this effect on all men.
I was overheating and my cock was stiff and aching. Every cell in my being wanted — at least — to take a deep sniff of her cunt.
But the nature of our relationship was that I would be still with my desire for her and do no such thing. We both knew this, and our space to explore established: my sex was to be with myself. And I had a sense that I would be denied the gratification of witnessing her self-given release, at least that night.
We had been doing this for an hour or so when she reached onto the windowsill and picked up a round, spattered mirror. My heart raced. She knew about my mirrors and what I do with them and was now confronting me with one of them, if ever so gently.
As a glorious woman it would be her prerogative to take in my desire for her and absorb me fully; to embrace my death into her; and before doing so to quench my thirst for her and enjoy both of our fulfillment.
Instead she was handling a cum pie, my cum pie, thick and yellow from many masturbation orgasms over the months, semen she knew was intended for my mouth. Honestly, it was disgusting, thick and crusted. The rim was spattered and cum had run around to the bottom.
She held it to her face and smelled it. My heart jumped into my throat. She was not disgusted.
“You smell like your semen,” she said nonchalantly.
She then handed it to me; the implication was, let’s see what you do with it. She was curious and also she knew I needed relief. And she was about to observe as I turned my thirst for her onto myself.
This was the intersection where the mirror becomes yoni, now blessed by a goddess. I sat in front of the big mirror where she had just explored herself and began to lick myself with hunger, thirst and desire. It was as if every prior orgasm onto the glass was leading to this moment without my having known it.
I looked up at her with what felt like desperation and shame in my eyes. Her expression was gentle and delicate, her eyes their cool, easy blue.
“Easy,” she said. “It’s OK.”
“I need to be fucked. To fuck myself.”
“Can I help with that?”
“Yes, there is a dildo and a cup of coconut oil on the floor mirror.”
She got up and retrieved them, placing them on the floor next to me.
I dipped my fingers into the melted oil and massaged my ass. Then I spread the oil onto the dildo. Then I smelled my moistened cum mirror and licked some more.
“Would you hold this to my face?”
“Of course,” she said, knowing that one of my practices was to always see my face as I penetrated myself. She would see me too.
As she did, I watched my expression as I dropped onto the penetration, stretching my being, and lavishing in her awareness and approval, daring to glance at the agonized expression on my face.
I then leaned in and she pushed the glass toward me as I ate myself from her hands, and fucked myself. The dissonance was mind melting. I wanted to lick her. I was licking me, hungrily, converting all my craving for cunt into lust for my semen. I wanted to fuck her. I was fucking me, and deeply.
I turned and faced the big sheet of glass and abandoned all containment. I wanted this tension to last forever. I gazed at her strong chest and delicious breasts and her flat tummy leading to her vestal area. Her legs were open enough that I could see her yoni was in full blossom and I could smell her thick, florid scent.
Then I looked back at myself, knees up. She moved my mirror closer, like a pacifier. I wanted her delicious vagina. I was being offered my dry semen. She understood this transference process. We both knew I would eat her out so well if i had the chance, and we were both sacrificing that to the process we were in. She held steady, and held me steady.
I licked more, and then looked at her and said through my sticky mouth and lips, “I lick my dried out semen.”
“Yes you do, and you drink your wet semen. You’ve told me all about it.”
I licked more, as bits of crust melted into my mouth…I groaned as they burst into the distinct flavor that was emotion.
“I’m almost ready,” I said.
“Take your time,” she said, kneeling up and handing me my cum mirror. She opened her legs fully and massaged her vulva out to her thighs, spreading open her flower.
“May I smell your fingers?”
“I think that would be good,” she said, reaching toward me and allowing me to taste her womanly scent, which soaked into my brain and flushed through my body. I was beginning to spin. There was a yoga block nearby, which I mounted; this facilitated my fully squatting on my dildo and going deep into self penetration. Somewhere I got to the point where I was beyond embarrassment. And we both knew I would soon be beyond self control.
Then the mirror was in her hands, as she leaned in, ready to catch my ejaculation. I looked into her eyes, deeply needing her approval. She smiled a little and nodded.
“Do your thing,” she said gently. At the sound of her voice, I began to slide, and then glanced at her thick nipple and beautiful areola, so close to me, and that was it. My existence throbbed outwardly and I called out.
I remembered, or dared, to turn my attention toward myself in the big sheet mirror, and was suddenly throbbing and moaning with a spiral sensation.
“I’m a mirror masturbator,” I said out loud to myself.
“You’re a mirror masturbator. Especially right now.”
That enticed me to release a little more. I cried out to existence, delighting in a long, slow moan. And then I submitted to myself.
My body, rippling in emotion, produced an enormous amount of semen, provoked by her soulful presence and her thick wet cunt and most pretty face. I released even more deeply, grunting as I stared at myself and the image of her capturing my ejaculation, which pooled on the mirror and mingled with so many others. When the flow stopped, she raised the mirror to her face and smelled my pool of cum.
Then she held it to me.
“This is for you,” she said, gesturing my mirror toward me.
I leaned in and dragged my tongue across my warm, thick liquid, which burst into my mouth and coated my upper throat. I swallowed, gulping, groaning, and licked some more. Then I dared myself to do what was usually impossible — turn toward her and show her my cum in my mouth. But I did it, and as she smiled and nodded, I swallowed. In that moment I had the sensation that there would be no going back, not at least in our relationship. This was who she knew me to be.
“There’s more,” she said, as I licked up some of the tacky cum-mud.
And with that, I sat before myself wholly unraveled, and somehow, satiated. My face was wet and my mouth was sticky and I knew I was with a friend.
One night out of nowhere Cassidy asked me to shave her vulva.
I had not touched her up to that point and this was her chosen initiation. I took a few deep breaths, gazing back into her eyes. She was gentle and sincere.
“Where shall we do this?” she asked.
“How about the tub?”
We made our way to the studio bathroom. She undressed and stepped into the tub and turned on the shower. She was gloriously naked and oh so beautiful. I could barely believe what I was about to experience, though here it was, for real.
I shave using a mug and brush. First I changed the blade in my razor and then held the brush under water and worked up a lather. She put one leg onto the ledge of the tub and I got underneath her and gently lathered her. Then, oh so delicately, I began to shave her. First her upper thighs and then working my way inward, one little stroke at a time. My clothes were starting to get wet.
“You can undress if you want,” she said, so I did. I looked up at her face. She was perfectly happy. I kept lathering her and, stretching her skin with my fingers, shaving her gently, everywhere: her pubis, her thick delightful labia, and then her ass. It was amazing being so close to her, studying her, feeling her flesh and feeling her respond.
She raised her knee so I could have extra access, especially to her backside, I shaved and rinsed her and then did it again, until it seemed like I had sheared every strand of fur down to bare, supple flesh.
Then came a surprise. “Would you like to lick me?
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I want to.”
“I know you do. So do it.”
She turned her magnificent vulva toward me, and stretched her thighs wide.
With immense delight, I smelled her. She was water and feminine and fresh. I licked her gently, first parting her inner labia, tasting her delicately; and then I gently pressed into her with my lips and tongue, and then I sucked her into my mouth. She was dripping wet with anticipation of what she had been planning.
I licked into her lips and scooped out some of her liquid, quenching my long restrained thirst. She held my head with her hands as my lips and tongue explored her abundant, seemingly endless vulva.
We made love like this for a while. Then she said she wanted to go back to the futon, the one on the floor in front of the sheet mirrors.
I laid down on my back and she mounted me, pressing herself into my face. And then she masturbated with full strength as I smelled and sipped and swallowed and provided any pleasure I could. For one brief moment, she angled her asshole onto my mouth and I licked and nibbled her hungrily.
Her body went taut.
Her clit was now the center of focus, fully engorged and taking control of everything.
I slipped my tongue deep into her and felt her body ripple with tension and release. Her muscles squeezed my tongue and I knew she was ready to orgasm. I angled my mouth for maximum contact with her vaginal opening. I wanted as much of her orgasmic water as I could drink, and as the waves seized her, she gushed a few pulses of her delicious clear liquid into my mouth and onto my face as we both groaned in the cosmic pleasure of the experience.
I held her hips, and together we were at peace in the cosmos, spinning, solitary.
Finally she unmounted me and reached for the round cum mirror on the windowsill.
“Do you want this?”
I said that I did. She also handed me a dildo and a little cup of coconut oil, and as I faced the mirror, she sat back. I would not get to fuck her. I understood that. She knew I wanted to and I suspect she did as well. To have all that liquid returned to her in a perfect cycle of nature.
But I could fuck myself. This was now inevitable.
I was not going to tease. I pressed down on the flat-bottom dildo, seeing my face take the penetration…as she watched, and fully faced the mirror with my knees spread...still aching to fuck this beautiful creature and die into her. I guided myself back to self-awareness. I was hungry for my cum and hungry for her acknowledgement that after drinking her so beautifully, I would have myself…and our scents and flavors and legacy mixed on the glass as my old cum turned to mud. And I licked and licked as she watched and would watch so many times.
I said the words I needed to hear myself say and needed to say to her, practically crying: I’m a mirror masturbator.
And then it happened…I held my cum mirror with my left hand and brought myself to the point of inevitability with the other…and then felt myself spill inside, like a bucket of hot water tipping over, and my pleasure surged and I relaxed into the feeling and released onto the streaked, crusty glass…gushing…an enormous ejaculation in many cords…and without thinking, I was licking the glass, the mix of many old orgasms and her amrita and my semen, and I swallowed and licked and swallowed what I could until I collapsed at her feet, clutching her legs.
In that time with Cassidy I had some hint that I would be surrendering yoni, for a while or forever. I had a clue from the three readings. But it did not seem possible. My whole being cried out for cunt and I was always thirsty.
I understood that first I would surrender penetration: that I was being weaned off of fucking, and gradually being inducted into my cum mirrors as a way of life. Whatever I may have done with any lover, I also faced my mirror and shared my cum mirror.
Cassidy was my guide and stabilizing force, all the more perfect for her cool, easy way of being present while I turned back toward myself.
We shared a deep, conscious understanding that I was becoming a mirror celibate self semen drinker. And that this would happen one relationship at a time, and this was the one it was happening in now. In one scenario I’ll explore in detail some other time, she and my friend Sherry held space as I licked my cum mirror and had the whole conversation with them both, out loud. There are photographs of this scene.
Maybe this is my projection, though I now feel that Cassidy could see into my future and was consciously helping me surrender that which I needed to let go of in order to be happy. But at that moment I needed to fuck her.
So I asked — pleadingly.
I don’t remember the details of the conversation. She was, I think, disappointed that I would come to her and beg, rather than patiently waiting for an invitation. My truth was deeper: I wanted her for my lover. I could love and make love to her every day. She manifested Aquarius as the bearer of water. I could drink from her yoni eternally.
However in our current probability field, she was my thresholder and I was being turned toward the mirror, as we had agreed. My semen went into my mouth.
She sensed that I was deeply attached to my need to fuck her, and I suspect she took the path of least resistance. She gave me permission to do so, walking over to the futon that was in front of the sheet mirrors. She laid back in her sheer tank top and cute little shorts. I could have the pleasure of undressing her.
She also could have said, “You’re mirror celibate. Face the mirror, undress and give it to yourself.” I would have been helpless to do anything else. I think she knew that I was not ready and that she was here to help me take another step. But now, I was going to get to fuck her. To hold her agile, sleek body and take her.
“Please get a condom.”
“OK,” I said, though I had hoped I could ejaculate into her and lick my semen out of her vagina. I got the condom, returned, and slipped her out of her shorts as she wriggled. I leaned in to smell her vulva. I always wanted to smell her vulva, and we were together a lot. I’m sure the desire soaked out of me undeniably. Now I could go in and sniff her. But when I went to lick, I found that my privilege had been curtailed.
I undressed, and slipped on the condom, and suspended myself over her, ready to penetrate, grieving that I would not get to taste her cunnilingus again.
“You can lay your full weight on me,” she said. So I relaxed and did so gently, and she guided my penis into her vagina. I held her strong body and pushed into her. Her face was serene, turned to the side a little, her eyes shut. I could do what I wanted; take my pleasure. As I fucked and penetrated, her face held the same serene expression, smiling slightly, and seeming not to respond to my being inside her world.
I wanted her to fuck me back, to assert her awareness in my direction. Yet hers lay inward, as I fucked and grew more helpless in my feelings. I wanted to connect with her though I seemed to have little option other than to connect with myself.
My whole being rang with the feeling, “I’m fucking.” I looked into the sheet mirror and saw my ass plunge into her hips, her knees bent slightly to open her thighs…and I saw in my face floating above Cassidy a vision of desperation. Her face was turned the other way, toward the wall. I could not see her expression.
And I was not going to last long fucking her. I wanted to, to make love with full mutual passion. What she was doing was allowing me to have my own private experience of masturbating into her. It was not about her; it was about me.
I felt my ejaculation starting to rise up. I looked at her adorable face and that pushed me more, melting me emotionally. Dissolving any possible resistance to my feelings.
As I began to orgasm I said, please, please, please look at me. I didn’t know what she was going to do.
She turned languidly, opened her wide blue eyes and observed as I searched her face and in that stretched moment, I released my existence, grunting my surrender, my penis throbbing into her. I imagined what she might be seeing in my eyes; what she might be feeling as I emptied myself into her being.
