Have you ever had one of those fantasies? You know, the ones that feel so real you begin to wonder if you are actually imagining them. Well, I do… because I have them all the time! Sometimes, they turn into a story, but mostly they remain trapped inside my brain. That is, until now…
If you read my last fantasy, then you know I recently joined a gym and started working out more seriously. As most people in training, I take every opportunity to look at my reflection, searching the mirror for subtle changes. It’s only been a few weeks since I started my new workout regime, but I can already see a few subtle shifts in my appearance. Nothing major, but just enough to motivate me to keep going.
It was early in the morning. I had just woken up and I was still groggy with sleep. On my way to the bathroom, I passed by the mirror that hung between my bedroom door and my closet. Unable to resist, I peered at my reflection.
A smile curled my lips at the sight of the naked woman staring back at me from within. Deep down I knew she and I were the same person, but the more I studied her, the less familiar she appeared. The subtle shifts in my appearances I had noticed of late now worked together to create an exterior I had yet to grow accustomed to. It was still me, yet at the same time it felt like a complete stranger was staring back at me from within the mirror.
I don’t know how it happened. Perhaps it was the tendrils of sleep that still clung to my body. Perhaps it was the odd feeling of unfamiliarity that enveloped my reflection. All I know for sure is that one second I was staring at my reflection and the next she was coming to life.
The mirror began to shimmer, like the disturbed surface of a pond. The ripples vanished after only a few seconds, but when the smoothness returned to the reflective surface, something had changed. The woman staring back at me still had the same appearance, yet her posture seemed off.
It took a second before I figured it out. Both my arm hung by my sides, while one of hers snaked its way up her body. It reached her perky breasts and started teasingly stoking them. I watched, entranced, as she began moaning softly.
She smiled teasingly. I smiled back. Her hand travelled down to her slit and her body began to tremble with excitement. Mine did the same.
The teased herself for a moment before reaching out with her free hand. She pressed it to the surface of the mirror. Using her other, she beckoned me forward with her index. I barely even hesitated before placing my palm against the mirror, matching her posture almost perfectly.
The mirror felt warm against my skin, almost as if it was alive. I smiled again, though I couldn’t tell why. But the grin fell from my lips as soon as something grabbed my wrist.
Panicking, I fought to break free, but the hand that had taken hold of me refused to let go. I pulled and pulled, slowly backing away from the mirror. The hand that gripped my wrist followed, dragging with it an arm, then a shoulder, before finally fully wrenching my reflection from her mirrored prison.
As soon as she was free, she released me and I tumbled backward onto my bed. I half expected her to be gone when I scrambled to my feet, but there she stood, staring at me with a proud smile on her lips and lust in her eyes.
“Thanks for freeing me,” she said.
I was stunned for a few seconds before I finally realized what was happening. I was fantasizing. It was the only logical explanation for what I was seeing. It had been a while since a fantasy had crept up on me in such a way. I can usually tell the second one starts, yet this time it had taken a great deal of incongruities to make me understand.
I stared at her for a few seconds. She stared right back, that odd smile still curling her lips.
“Who are you?” I finally asked. I know it’s clichéd, but it was all I could think of.
“I’m you,” she replied. “Actually,” she added after a short pause, “I‘m part of you. The part that writes all those kinky stories. The part that thinks of sex every second of every day. The part that has convinced you it’s possible to make money while doing something you love.”
I was so stunned I could barely speak.
“That’s right. I’m Barbie. Barbie Lez.”
I had always thought of my inspiration as a living, breathing part of me, but I never actually thought it would one day come to life. But this was a fantasy and anything was possible. Still, I was filled with confusion.
“Why are you here?” I wondered.
Barbie once more flashed that smile of hers.
“I think you already know the answer to that,” she said as she started walking toward me. Each steep she took brought her closer, making my hair stand on end. Only a few feet stood between us. Then a few inches. After what felt like a split second and an eternity all at once, our lips made contact.
We kissed. It was passionate, yet sensual. Perverse yet perfectly acceptable. It was the best kiss I ever had. She knew exactly what I liked and she gave it to me.
By the time our lips finally parted, I had lost all self-control. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anyone. I craved the smell of her hair. The touch of her skin. The taste of her pussy.
I’m not quite sure how it happened. One second we stood there, bodies pressed together and the next I lay on the bed, Barbie’s tongue testing my nipples.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes!”
She teased me for a few excruciatingly blissful seconds before her tongue snaked its way down to my slit. Then the teasing resumed. She was such a skilled lover that a shiver of delight ran through me each time her tongue slid across my clit.
I moaned. She licked. Then she was inside me. I couldn’t tell if it was her tongue or her fingers, but wave after wave of arousal washed over me, reminding me it didn’t matter. She fucked me, slowly at first, but gradually increasing the strength with each new penetration. In no time as all, I was moaning at the top of my lungs as an orgasm grew within me.
I wanted to warn her of my impending climax, but I feared she would stop. It had happened to me far too many times. But not this time. This time I wouldn’t let it happen. Unfortunately, she and I were two parts of a whole and she knew just how close I was to climax. She continued stimulating my body until the very last second, then pulled away.
Anger washed over me, but it faded as soon as my eyes fluttered open and I found Barbie standing before me. The smiled down at me as she stroked the strapon she now wore. It was a bright shade of pink and the perfect size for what she had planned.
“Get on your hands and knees,” she ordered.
I didn’t even consider refusing. I just rolled over and forced myself into the air. Moments later, a pair of hands grabbed my waist and I was pulled to the very edge of the bed.
“Fuck!” I moaned as the tip of the strapon was pressed to my lower lips. No sooner had the blissful exclamation left my lips that my lover jerked forward. Another cry filled the air as the toy slithered into me. Deeper and deeper it travelled until every inch was inside me.
Then the fucking began. The sensual, delicate Barbie from before was gone. In her place now stood a ravenous, sex-hungry beast. She pounded me savagely, forcing a moan past my lips each time the toy slid into me. But that wasn’t enough for this starving nymphomaniac. She transferred the strapon to my asshole and started savagely pounding me. Ignoring the surprise that filled me, I continued moaning as she rode me toward the orgasm that had been growing within me ever since the first penetration.
Barbie invaded a different hole every few seconds. I tried to keep up, but eventually lost track of which part of my body it invaded. All I knew was that I was on the verge of climax. Nothing else mattered.
She fucked me until the very last second. The moment my pussy started to shiver with ecstasy, she transferred the toy to my ass and focused on it as wave after wave of nectar oozed out of my slit. The warm liquid streamed down my thighs, making me moan in delight.
I lost all track of time. One second I was squirting and the next I was sprawled across the bed, panting madly. I stayed there for a moment, struggling to catch my breath. By the time I finally found the strength to open my eyes, the fantasy had ended.
I stood before the mirror, staring at my reflection. She didn’t smile. She didn’t move unless I did. She didn’t even seem to be alive. Then something happened that made me wonder if my fantasy was indeed over.