His lips lock with yours, his full kiss bursting with urgency. His surrounding entourage occupy themselves, these mirrored men, running their hands over you, their attention drawn to the achingly beautiful sight of your sex on show in the reflected firelight.

His kiss breaks free and your eyes prize open, your mouth wet with abandoned energy. You glimpse at your surroundings, reaffirming its reality, his men attentive, their eyes and hands keen for the tight wax trim your aching cunt.

Confident and adored, you close your eyes, focusing within, feeling for his one true hand, where you can squeeze, grip and relax, training your love to fuck and grind against his bare-knuckled fingers. 

Behind closed eyes you summon the strong, physical form of his reflected naked body, firm and keen, feeling the devotion of these multiplied men running over you.

Their hands conspire to control you, cradling you, causing you to curl over and comply, rolling onto your back, feeling the soft, worn leather of the ottoman creak under your skin.

He’s coiling down before you, kneeling, supplicant between your legs, offering his mouth to the reach his probing fingers, testing your resistance to the rough stubble of his jutting jaw.

The rut of his masculine movement, like hardened antler, rubbing against the velvet inside of your thigh, the breadth of his broad shoulders easing you open, wider, reaching further forward.

With his twin fingers, knuckles deep, gripped tight inside, the heat of his breath comes warm as fire, whispering sighs against your shimmering, open wetness, his tongue daring, loving and lusting, aching to stretch and stroke-lick between the folding lips of your labia.

Searching for your clitoris, his tongue tied, probing, sensing, your spine tensing, arching, flexing then easing, hips rising, offering, aching, wanting to command and control all contact with his loving tongue.

A surrounding sound comes through to you, a whispering coming from beyond the baroque mirrors, you can hear the depth and sincerity carried within his voice, his truth so close to yours, soothing you, assuring you, reminding how beautiful you are, and how much he wants you.

His fantasy interweaving with yours, his eyes closed, his face smothered wet between your thighs, his tongue and fingers scooping, hungry for your sex, while imagining his reflection, watching, from all around, his body fit and firm, repeated in every mirror.

Your woven wants have so combined to summon his reflections, these replicated men stepping out from their baroque mirrored frames. Obedient to your fantasy, determined to overcome his fear of missing out.

Where now his love can be with you everywhere at once, his deep, full kiss, pressing against your mouth, while his lips suck and tongue the tight folds of your fingered cunt.

Your breasts heave as they firm, peppered with stubble kisses, then smothered, murdered and marauded, pulled hard by the passion of his mouth, sucking, feeding, stretching, twisting; his rogue tongue plundering the hardening of your nipples.

And from every mirror, he’s watching, voyeur, standing tall and naked, slow-stroking his cock, growing hard with loving, his eyes filled with the firelight and the sight of seeing you consumed.