MIRROR, MIRROR

By

Jason

Aaron Murphy liked looking at his reflection in the Body Work's wall of mirrors. But then, how could he not? For going on five years now his body had been his main preoccupation. Well, not counting the hunt for cunt he otherwise spent his time engaged in. But it was the incredible hunk he had turned himself into--mainly right here amid the boss chrome and glass of this particular fitness center--that had made the other quest so successful. Aaron had no doubts about that. He was only a junior in high school, but Aaron had already screwed half the girls in town. No exaggeration. He had given up keeping count a while back, but when you added in the classes ahead of him (not to mention the slew of sluts from the grades below--his latest in that category being a precocious fifth grader who had hung around on a recent afternoon to watch Aaron do some final laps in the school pool)--then you got somewhere close to a hundred, a hundred and fifty, easy. And that didn't include the odd teacher or two--three to be exact--who had spread their legs for him. The last--his recently divorced, sex-starved algebra teacher--had even encouraged him to plug her rather scrumptious bum, an experience that had spurred Aaron to even more exciting explorations of the possibilities.

As he finished the last series of leg lifts he had set himself, his sphincter tingled with the memory of his latest discovery along those lines: reaming. Aaron had only been preparing for a little sixty-nining the previous weekend when a beer-soused Mary Turbot inadvertently zapped his butt with that suction-cup mouth of hers. By the time Mary came to herself--"What am I doing?!" she had exclaimed--her breathy Budweiser pucker had revealed pleasure of the posterior Aaron had completely failed to imagine. It took a little coaxing to get Mary to pick up where she left off, but once she reapplied herself, she lost all reserve--her most endearing quality so far as Aaron was concerned--and went to work like a professional. Or what Aaron imagined was professional anyway. Needless to say, he had never had to pay for sex.

What Aaron was now in the process of trying to figure out was how he could arrange to get some simultaneous action going. Front and back. Two mouths instead of one. Now that would be an interesting twist on things, and Aaron liked new twists.

Mary and her mother? Aaron wasn't so sure about that, though he had screwed both of them. Not that the one knew about the other, of course. But Mrs. Turbot was distinctly average. No imagination whatsoever. Now if only Mary had a sister as hot-to-trot as she was! But no. Mary was an only child.

Still, Aaron liked a challenge, and he was getting more and more determined to manage something. With or without Mary's participation. Hers wasn't the only tongue in town, after all, as Aaron well knew. But where to find the two willing mouths? That was the question.

Aaron had actually been involved in a threesome before, but that had not been planned. Far from it! In fact, Aaron had at first been scared shitless when Mr. Cottle suddenly appeared in his wife's bedroom. Aaron and Mrs. Cottle, a jerky friend of his mother's, had been going at it for a good half-hour when Fred--"Call me Fred," Mr. Cottle had insisted afterward--showed up, pants off, cock rampant, and shoved Mrs. Cottle aside--"Ruth," she had invited Aaron to say--in order to go down on Aaron himself. Thus, while he gnawed away on well-seasoned Cottle-cunt, good old Fred had devoured fresh, fat Aaron-o-banana! Old Fred had been good too! Indeed, the best Aaron had yet had when it came to that particular specialty. The man had then wanted to do more, of course, but as soon as Aaron realized why Mr. Cottle was rearranging him on his belly, as soon as he understood that the sleek charms of his rosy adolescent ass were not only something a woman might want to enjoy, Aaron had called a halt. Despite his disappointment, Fred proceeded to plug his wife while Aaron looked on, distinctly unimpressed both by Fred's technique and his even more ordinary equipment.

Now, however, having so recently experienced the splendid ravages of Mary Turbot's tornado tongue, Aaron wondered if he had made a mistake when he had not let good old Fred have a go at it. Once, at least. Yet he had only been thirteen when Mr. Cottle had wanted to cork his butt, and while even then proud of his size--in every respect--a thirteen-year-old's asshole was, after all, a thirteen-year-old's asshole. Or so Aaron had reasoned at the time.

Now, at seventeen, Aaron was a lot more confident about his powers to take as well as give, but, if the truth be told, he still found the idea of screwing a man--much less being screwed by one--not the wettest of his particular wet dreams. Although he had to admit that he had enjoyed driving Coach Benson out of his mind last fall. Before he up and had his nervous breakdown, the Coach had gone so far as to offer money--"For anything! Anything!" he had insisted--but Aaron only agreed to let him watch as he pumped flesh in the shower after all the other guys had left. What the hell? Fifty dollars for whacking off was good money, as well as a new experience, and, anyway, the new experience--dull though it soon proved to be--was all the temptation Aaron had really needed.

Too bad the Cottles had moved, Aaron now thought as he adjusted the arm weights. He might just have dropped in on them after his workout. Even let Mr. Cottle do his worst this time around. Who knows? Aaron had long ago decided to try everything at least once, although he had to admit that getting fucked himself had not actually been on his mind when he made the resolution.

More recently, Aaron had been wondering what rape might be like. This was because Rachel Thurman--no relation, though she looked deliciously like she could be--was still holding out. She was the new kid in town, but had stupidly attached herself to "Burger" Barton, one of the football team's meatier (and more possessive) linemen. As a result, Rachel hadn't yet worked up the nerve to two-time good old "Burger," a fact frustrating enough to lead Aaron to the rape fantasies. Aaron had actually gone so far as to check out her house, seen how easy it would be to get in in the middle of the night, his face covered, a knife to her throat, in order to plunder the tempting box of sweets that "Burger" had no right to keep all to himself in any case.

But so far, Aaron had held back. Not because he was particularly worried about getting caught. He wasn't. Aaron had felt invincible for years. He had yet to have the least trace of any of those so-called "venereal diseases," for example. And the media could go on about AIDS as much as it wanted, but it was clearly something only queers got, and Aaron was about as far from being a queer as a guy could get. No, he just preferred the idea of Rachel choosing to do the nasty-naughty because she couldn't help herself. The use of force would defeat that purpose entirely. Still, Aaron had half-resolved that he'd give her another month to see the light and then . . . who knew?

Now on his back, Aaron gripped the weight bar and, having flexed his triceps, proceeded to pump iron.

The pattern was as natural as breathing by this time, and Aaron was well into the sequence, quickly zoned out on the bracing regularity of the routine, when happening to glance across his crotch he saw reflected in Body Work's light-bright wall of mirrors an absolutely drop-dead pair of gorgeous girls--young women actually--talking to the ditzy red-headed bimbo who manned the front desk's fancy chrome crescent.

They're twins! he realized. And what twins, at that! The tits! The asses! The legs! And pairs of them! Not to mention the two--two!--sets of sexily pouting lips and cascading manes of think blond hair. Not even "Baywatch" could boast such ripe rounds of buttock and bosom, such lush incarnations of sun and sand. And it was still blustery, blistery March in the Nowheresville, Ohio, Aaron called home, for Christ's sake!

Now who are they? he wondered and licked his lips.

Easing the weights back into place, Aaron adjusted the quickly hardening rod trapped beneath the confines of his jock strap and silently ordered, "Down, boy! Let's not jump the gun. Let's get the lay of the land first. See just what sweet young cunts this way come."

And indeed, both blondes, their business at the desk accomplished, clearly ready for a joint workout, had begun to move in Aaron's direction. It was as if they had carefully scouted the place out and determined that the machines right on either side of Aaron--both free--would allow them the best vantage point from which to feast their eyes on what Aaron knew was the buffest stud bod in the center: his own.

Aaron watched them divide--one to either side--then launched into a series of oblique abdominal crunches, adroitly reversing the rotation of the exercise in order to observe the two babes settle into their respective places. First this way, then that, he went. One side, then the other, his abs flexing provocatively each time he faced one or the other of the stunningly matched pair.

Quite soon, and quite electrifyingly so far as Aaron was concerned, both blondes began to coordinate the more fluid rhythms of their own routines to the vigorous action of his own. He flexed, she flexed. He crunched, she crunched. Back and forth. Left and right. He had yet to make eye contact with either. In fact, they seemed never to look at him at all. But there was no question that they were more in sync with him with every passing minute.

Goddamn! he thought. It's like sex without touching!

The next half-hour unrolled like the most expansive foreplay Aaron had ever engaged in. He changed position. They changed position. They shifted the pattern. He shifted the pattern. He started a new procedure. They followed suit.

Before long, a finely layered sheen of perspiration glossed the skin of all three, Aaron's seeming to catch the damp light spinning off the bodies on either side of him, their flesh appearing to absorb the luminescent energy radiating from his own.

Finally, as if on cue, they all three stopped at once.

There was a long pause as the twins took deep, satisfying breaths. Then they rose in unison.

Unable to move, Aaron sat where he was, mesmerized, yet somehow managing to see both at once. Or so it seemed. Then for the first time--Aaron could hardly believe it was for the first time--they looked directly at him. Bold, penetrating eyes, blue and cold on both sides. But there was nothing cold about the smile on their lips. A tasty warmth seemed to emanate from the two sets of hard, white, enticingly moist teeth.

"You're good," the one on his left said.

"Very good," the other echoed.

"We only like them good," the first continued.

""And you are good," the other confirmed.

"And free?"

"We like them free."

"In every way."

"No strings attached."

"No holes barred."

"Ready for the ultimate experience."

"Guaranteed."

"Over the top."

"All the way."

"What do you say?"

"What do you say?"

It was as if their honey-colored voices had nailed his mouth shut. For the first time since he could remember, Aaron was completely tongue-tied. His hungry, spellbound gaze was forced to do his speaking for him.

"Yeah."

"Right."

"So."

"We've got a van."

"But . . . ," and the blonde on his left rotated her hand in order to indicate the rest of the fitness center.

"We like things private . . . quiet," the other completed.

"Secret . . . special."

"So . . . ," said the first.

"We leave now."

"You later."

"In five minutes."

"Ten."

"We'll be . . . ."

"In lot three."

"Don't change."

"We want you just like . . . ."

"That."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

And before Aaron could move a muscle, they swooped and gathered their towels, linked their leanly muscled arms, and strode toward the exit, their sexily sashaying buttocks flashing "Follow!" in riveting, eye-popping bursts. Or so it seemed to Aaron, whose body was now shot through with as mighty a surge of lust as he had ever known.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he thought again about those agreed-on ten minutes. Agreed-on? Had he agreed on them? Hell, did it matter? They knew. Those broads knew when they had a guy by the shorthairs. They might just as well have lassoed his balls and dragged him cock-first out of the front doors of the fitness center.

Aaron checked the clock on the wall, then shot up, pulled on his t-shirt, and proceeded to collect his things. He had come to the fitness center directly from school, changed, then stuffed his clothes in his bookbag, which, like always, carried not a single book. He never bothered with books anymore. There was too much real-life experience to plow through. Har, har!

"The ultimate experience," they had said. "All the way." "Over the top." Why did Aaron feel that they knew exactly what they were talking about? No shit! He was about to have the experience of a lifetime. And, boy, was he ready!

The van was just where they said it would be, smack dab in the middle of lot three. There was no question it was theirs. As bold and brassy as they were, it loomed up in the late afternoon sun on four massive white-walled wheels, its sleek amber exterior as smoothly polished as the skin on its two foxy owners' thighs.

The babes must be in back, he thought, noting the empty cab. In back and ready for action. Hot damn!

He glanced over his shoulder at the slowly receding mall.

"Quiet . . . private," they had said. Which is just what it's gonna be, Aaron anticipated with a smile, for there wasn't a soul in sight. Hell, not even the security cameras scanned out this far, he thought, having worked at Goody's the previous summer and knowing.

There're no windows on the thing, he observed as he rounded the vehicle, not even peepholes. Just a metal box full of blond bush, that's what it was. And--very soon--one cunt-lucky fuck-stud, he concluded as he reached the darkly glowing back panels. Which suddenly swung open, each gripped by a babe stripped and ready for action.

Startled to a stop, Aaron could hardly believe his eyes, but so it was. Neither bitch wore a stitch.

"Hey," he managed to say before they pulled him up and in, slamming the metal doors behind them.

"Oooo, baby," moaned a pair of the most perfect boobs Aaron had ever seen.

"Baby, baby, baby," crooned the matching pair.

"Sweet thing," murmured the first as, tossing his bookbag aside, she slipped her hands under his tight blue t-shirt.

"Sweet, sweet, sweet," chanted the other, pressing the curves of his fresh, firm butt.

As if in a trance, Aaron completely submitted, his fantasy of a randy-dandy threesome having come astonishingly, unbelievably true. Even the bright interior lights of the van seemed right, he thought, for this was clearly going to be an experience demanding attention to detail. Darkness would have totally defeated the purpose.

Two absolutely gorgeous mouths locked on him. Front and back. Moist white teeth nipping, rich thick lips sucking, salty smooth tongues licking. And they were still at his face and neck. They hadn't even gotten to the important parts yet!

Without breaking their rhythm--each in unison with the other--the two young women slowly proceeded to remove Aaron's clothes. One peeled his t-shirt up and off, the other slid his shorts down and away. One knelt and undid one tennis shoe, the other the other, kissing the fronts and backs of his thighs the while. Finally, together, they grasped, then removed the now painfully straining jockstrap, freeing to the van's cool air the most engorged erection Aaron had ever had.

"Leave the socks," the one in front said.

"Yeah, leave the socks," came the voice behind.

"Special request."

"Special request, baby."

"Kinky sock fetish."

"Kinky, yeah."

"Takes all kinds."

"All kinds."

"We aim to please."

"Please, please."

"Satisfied customers, baby."

"Satisfied."

Trapped in a haze of sensation, Aaron hardly heard them. Somebody had a thing about socks. Okay! What the hell! Leave the socks on!

Back on their feet, the two blondes deftly maneuvered Aaron to the center of the big van.

Sandwiched between them, he soon found himself the target of a series of voluptuously coordinated caresses. Two pairs of hands. Twenty fingers. Four thighs. Four boobs. Two cunts. Two mouths. Two tongues. And all focused on him!

These girls are death, death! he thought.

His hands were in the air, the restraints attached to his wrists, and the ballgag in his mouth before he knew it. But even when awareness came, Aaron didn't panic. These babes had promised something special, and, besides, he had heard of such things. He prided himself on having heard of such things in fact, whether he had tried them yet or not. Plenty of time to get into that, he had thought, but now the bouncing boobsy twins were advancing his education bigtime.

"Look," said one.

"Look," repeated the other.

They pointed to the corners of the van.

Cameras, Aaron realized, cameras perched in every corner, their beady little eyes blinking away to beat the band.

Holy shit! They were filming him!

At that very moment, the one in front dropped to her knees, even as the one in back matched her movement. Then nirvana and then some as the one mouth sank to the root of his loosely bobbing cock, while the other, behind, wended its slippery slavery way into the happily yielding crack in his ass.

Aaron moaned through the gag.

A minute later and he was having to pace himself. It was that or blow right off the bat.

Not so fast! he admonished his cock. We've gone Hollywood, boy-yo! Gotta act like a star.

The restraints that were suddenly snapped around his ankles yanked his legs apart. Far apart!

Yow! Aaron thought, now spread-eagled between the van's high roof and rubber-lined floor. That hurts!

The babes got to their feet.

"Nice," came a voice.

"Nice," agreed the other.

"Time?" asked the first.

"Time," answered the second.

Penetration occurred before Aaron even knew what it was.

"Ukgh," he gagged into the gag, sucking the ball toward the back of his throat.

A thick rubber dildo had split his buns like a fist through a melon. Before he could fully register the pain, however, an eager pouncing pussy plunged down the shaft of his saliva-soaked cock. The mix of pain and pleasure totally blew Aaron's brains. Rockets fired in his synapses, stars spun in his occipitals.

I'm gonna die! he thought. Die!

His mouth, despite the uncomfortably constricting ballgag, stretched into a wild and widening grin.

"They want . . . strangulation," whispered a voice at his ear.

"Strangulation," whispered the other.

"At the climax."

"Climax."

"They paid for it."

"Paid."

"And we . . . ."

"Always deliver, baby."

Something was wrong with the words. Aaron was sure of it. But he couldn't quite figure out what.

"Close," said the one.

"Close," said the other.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Now."

"Now."

Aaron felt the rope go around his neck, felt the two pairs of hands pull it tight against his skin, immediately registered the constricted blood and airflow, but by then it was too late—even supposing he could have done something—for the buxom brace of babes had leaned back, reining on the rope.

Too fucking much! he thought.

"Fight it, baby! Fight it!" ordered the panting blonde in front, her hot cunt clutching his ferociously thrusting teenage cock.

"Give it all you got, baby! Give it all you got!" urged the breathy blonde in back, the dildo slamming into his ferociously flexing teenage ass.

Aaron's tongue began to thicken like a big fat sausage around the red plastic ball in his mouth, but he couldn't stop. The fuck now had a life of its own.

"Gag!"

"Off!"

With a free hand the twin at his back undid the ballgag.

The twin in front jerked it from his mouth.

Every finely honed muscle in Aaron's beautifully proportioned body now strained against the restraints. His abs tightened. His feet flexed. His fingers locked. His cock seemed to double in size.

He tried to speak. Couldn't. Somehow his tongue kept getting in the way.

He began to jerk in great, heaving spasms of motion that practically lifted the cunt in front off her feet. The delving dildo at his rear matched him jerk for jerk for jerk for jerk.

Aaron stopped trying to speak.

His tongue, like his cock, was now twice its normal size. It pushed beyond his lips--thick and darkening.

The spasms abruptly stopped and Aaron arced toward climax.

"He's going."

"Going."

"Gone!" they screamed in unison.

At that very instant, Aaron's violently violated butt locked with a killer tightness around the thrusting rubber dildo in his ass even as his massively enlarged cock fired high into the cunt in front.

Their arms taut, their hands still gripped on the rope, the blonde babes immediately backed away. The dildo popped free of Aaron's ass. The pussy slid from his cock.

Bobbing toward his belly, his still pulsing penis threw an epic final thick gush of rich sticky cum through the van's cool air.

The cameras caught it all.

Just before the lights went out, Aaron thought he heard a pair of sultry siren voices begin to sing.

"Bye, bye, love. Bye, bye, sweet caress."

Then there was nothing--not even a song--as having shot his last and biggest wad in this world, Aaron Murphy proceeded to go--just as the twins had promised--all the way . . . over the top.

Another minute, and his violently vibrating toes twitched to stillness in his sweaty white socks.

For a moment, there was a deep, satisfied silence.

Then the rope went slack.

The tightly secured teen-male body slowly sagged.

As it did, a soft, sighing exhalation of breath issued past puffy, blue teen-male lips.

"Cut!" came a voice.

"Cut!" replied another.

And with a cheerful chorus of clicks, the raft of cameras froze on the still, buff corpse of Snuffkink Unlimited's hot new hunk of a star.

THE END