Oh, Buffy, B, baby baby babe, I always wanted to feel you, but I never imagined it would be like this–
I love full-length mirrors. They’re so useful. I stare into it, and my eyes are not my eyes my lips are not my lips the owls are not what they seem– but my me is still my me. In Buffy’s body.
Oh, hell yes.
Buffy’s face moves now when I want it to move. I raise a finger to those lips and trace them. They smile at me, wanting more, needing more as her fingers slip slowly and sinfully across her cheek and down to her jawline, tingling at the sensation of soft fingers against softer skin.
Mine. Mine. Mine. She belongs to me now– her face her smile her world her body is all for me now, I took it, and it belongs to me. The idea makes me hot and flushed, makes me wet and needy.
She has too many clothes on. I have too many clothes on. God, I’m her and she’s me and I can’t figure this out but I’m hot and I want to draw my hands across her hips but they’re her hands. My hands are on Buffy’s hot little hips and they’re bucking up against my touch.
Works for me.
Her eyes watch me in the mirror. They watch as I ease off that preppy top. They approve as I remove the skinny, anorexic black top and throw it aside like last week’s swizzle stick. They take in the slim lines of her body, the soft rounds of breast and nipples.
Hard nipples, begging to be touched. I slip my hands around them, encircling them softly, pinching the tips gently. God it feels so good. I’m touching her but I’m the one feeling it. God it feels good, the best thing in the world. I run my fingertips across her breasts again, sending a shiver up my spine, settling in the back of my neck which is her neck which is me and her I don’t know but I feel her touching me.
Or do I feel me touching her? Does it matter it doesn’t matter I’m keeping her eyes locked on the mirror as I ease back towards her bed, still caressing her warm, tender breasts.
The bed is firm underneath me, as she sits and stares at the mirror, naked to the waist, begging me to take her, to make her come harder than she ever could with that pussy vampire or that pussy Iowa cornfed cow she jumped on the minute she could. She wants me, but she was always too afraid. A girl fucking another girl is too icky– it’s gay and she’s not gay. Never mind how wet her cunt is, how bad she wants me to slip my hand into the waistband of her button-fly jeans and just jerk it open, pulling all the buttons apart.
B, my sweet hot crazy little B, you’re the prettiest mess I ever seen. You want me so bad it’s almost pathetic. But I want you. I want your body arching up under my hands I wanna feel your wetness underneath my hot fingers wanna hear your moan as I touch your clit wanna feel you come and I’m gonna I’m gonna I’m gonna–
Take the jeans off. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’ve only had this in dreams but in my dreams I’m dying all the time and I don’t want to dream and this isn’t one, this is real. This is Buffy pulling off her jeans and her wet underwear, this is Buffy naked before me with her legs spreading wider and wider in front of the full-length mirror. I’m going out of my mind. I want her so much. I want those hard nipples that keep thrusting forward in blind, thrashing lust. I want to caress those wet thighs, tight and muscled from years of violence and training.
I want it all I need it all and she’s begging me to take it from her, pumping those little hips like an anorexic teen whore. Yes, Faith, she’s telling me, she wants it. Fuck me deep and hard, Faith. Now. I have to have her now have to slide my fingers up her straining thighs as she watches me, as she shivers and thrashes beneath my touch. Now while it’s still real I have to have her.
Her thighs are hot under my touch. God, how long has she wanted it? How long have I wanted it, to feel her soft pussy, to slide my finger teasingly up and down those wet lips and hear her moan, a soft, guilty little moan that’s begging me to touch her and give her more?
She’s so wet and I’m getting hotter and it’s hard to think as she lays back on the bed, the perky little tips of her nipples sticking out and aching. Oh God. I gotta do it now, slide three fingers into that hot wet girl and hear her moan, a deeper moan now, the quick gasps she takes as I start sliding those fingers deeper, pumping into her. I can’t see her eyes in the mirror any more but I can hear her whimpering as I fuck her with my fingers that are her fingers hard, refusing to touch her clit yet.
Feels so good, God, it’s making me dizzy as I feel her body because it’s everything I knew it would be it’s all that and more and I knew she wanted me, I always knew that if she would just relax that it would work for us, oh God, her moans are driving me crazy, oh God, she needs more and I don’t want to come yet– I’m waiting I’m waiting–
Her hips thrust aggressively and insistently against my hands and her head is thrashing helplessly against the bed, wanting me to let her come. But it’s not time yet. She’s mine and she’ll do what I want when I want. I want her to be my slave, helpless against her lust. She has to ache the way I’ve ached for her. I pump a little harder and her next cry comes out like a shriek.
You like that, don’t you, B? You like me fucking you hard and crazy, I’m better than that stupid fuck who you call your boyfriend. I’m a hundred times better than that. You know it, don’t you, baby, don’t you?
Her sobbing moan answers me. Yeah, that’s right. She knows who’s in charge. I pull the edge of my thumb against her clit, rubbing it hard and soon I feel her come, feel her body shiver and shake in hot delight. Her voice is high, lost in the sensation. Oh, yes, she’s crying to me, oh, yes, oh yes, oh please yes!
Finally she stops spasming under my fingers. I pull out, sticky, tired, dizzy with pleasure. Her legs close slowly as if she doesn’t realize we’re done, I’ve had her, it’s time to wash hands and slink under the covers in a sleepy daze. I feel her lips drawing up into my smile. I knew she wanted me, I just knew it.
Naked, I stand up and look at the strange union I’ve created. She’s mine and she knows it. But as I stare at her hot little naked body in the mirror I can’t remember where she ends and I begin and I can’t stop her hands from shaking–
I’m in her but are we closer than ever or hopelessly divided? Who exactly did I just fuck? She’s shivering so much but I’m her now and is this any realer than a dream? Why can’t I stop shaking? Why can’t I stop–?
I tear myself away from the Buffy of the mirror. Now is not the time to doubt the truth. This is exactly what it was, no more and no less.
I wash my hands. I go to bed.
And I know it will all be better in the morning.