Nymph in the Mirror

~Logan~

Evening fell, and I watched it affect everyone in the room. During the years of my wanderings, I have never grown tired of this simple pleasure. I clasped my hands and let them rest against the coolness of my shirt, and I observed as the lady of the house let the wine go to her head, giggling compulsively, and the lord of the house became an historian, lecturing everyone ceaselessly about the evils of the French Revolution. It might have become boring had I not noticed the pulse quickening in the throat of their maiden daughter, Angelica.

She was young, but at eighteen, she was old to be unmarried. Most of her friends had long ago become wives and mothers. Her brown hair was piled high on her head, and tendrils curled softly beside her face. She was wearing a deep blue gown, and the pale skin that emerged from it was beginning to flush a deep pink. I met her startling blue eyes for a moment. They were frantic and conflicted, a little frightened. She glanced quickly away and began to fiddle with her napkin.

It had been a long time since I felt intrigued enough to enter someone's thoughts, but her behavior was far too enticing to ignore. Picking her thoughts out of the others in the room and becoming one with them was like relaxing into warm water. Of course, no one really thinks in complete sentences; reading people is like collecting a series of impressions based on feelings. She felt warm, her blood pulsing rapidly, and she ached deep in her body. It was an ache that brought an answering ache to my own body--she was aroused. I probed deeper, feeling her essence pulse around me, and I discovered that she did not understand why she felt aroused, and she did not know who to turn to for relief.

When I withdrew myself from her feelings, she gasped almost inaudibly and turned to look at me again. Seldom is anyone sensitive enough to notice my intrusion, and I always find it exciting when someone does. I smiled at her and nodded, and her answering shiver was the moment that sealed her fate.

~Angelica~

After everyone had retired for the evening, I found myself staring at my reflection in my mirror. It had been an exhausting evening, one in which I was plagued by an awakening I neither desired nor expected. Phantom pangs still pulsed through me. The girl in the mirror was a stranger to me at the moment. Her lust-crazed eyes searched for release. I sighed and looked away.

I thought again of the stranger at dinner, the man who, among all the guests, seemed to notice my discomfort. I blushed as I remembered the interest in his eyes, the way he continued to observe me all evening. The blush was not entirely the result of modesty. This was ridiculous. I didn't even know his name. Surely it was indecent to imagine his eyes on my naked skin, his flesh against mine...

I shook my head to clear it and returned my gaze to the mirror. It was time for bed, and I was delaying the inevitable. I undid my hair quickly and shook it out. Long brown waves cascaded around me. An impulse whispered through my body, and I obeyed it. I stood and let my dressing gown fall to the floor. The sensation of my hair against my bare back was exquisite, like a silk curtain. --Yes-- something deep inside me whispered. --More--

I swallowed. My reflection appeared completely foreign to me. A nude nymph stared back at me with tortured eyes. I found myself obsessed with her breasts, which I dimly realized were actually my own. They were plump and round, breasts that begged to be touched. --Yes,-- the voice inside me murmured. --Touch them. It will release you.--

I tried to resist, but my hands betrayed me. My eyes fluttered closed as I began kneading the sensitive flesh. I sank in the chair I had previously occupied, losing myself in the sensations I created for myself. The voice inside me was pleased, and that pleasure hummed through me as I began pinching my nipples. Soft whimpers escaped my mouth.

--Open your eyes,--the voice commanded. I did. Then I closed my mouth around my nipple. The voice was pleasantly surprised that it did not have to tell me to do this. I stared in amazed arousal at the image of the stranger in the mirror licking and sucking at her own breasts. An urgent need for release pounded inside me, and I instinctively let my hand drift lower to skim my thighs. I wanted to plunge my fingers into the mysterious opening between my legs. --No-- whispered the voice. Frustration curled through me. My gaze fell longingly on the handle of my hairbrush and I had an insane compulsion to thrust it deep inside myself.

The voice was firmer now. --No. Not yet.-- My lust crested and then abruptly stilled. The voice was gone. I stared in embarrassed shock at my reflection. I still gripped my nipple between my teeth. Quickly, I gathered my composure, blew out my candle, and turned to replace my dressing gown. Something at the window startled me. It was a sudden movement. Horror gripped my body. What if someone had seen the display I had just made of myself? I clutched the fabric of the gown to my body, hoping to cover my embarrassment.

I can't explain it, but then some impulse took hold of me. I dropped the garment to the floor and climbed naked into bed.

~Logan~

I entered Angelica's dream with ease. Penetrating her will had been child's play, and I knew this would be just as simple. She was in a field surrounded by cows. They stared at her intermittently, but seemed largely impervious to her presence.

She was lying in the grass, her hair and skirts spread around her like a halo. The dress was low-cut enough that my pulse quickened. I knew the real Angelica was sleeping naked, and I planned to take full advantage of this fact later, but the dream Angelica was still enticing.

She noticed me when I blocked the sun. She sat up with a squeak. "You!"

I nodded. "Naturally."

"What are you doing here?"

I let my gaze travel over her body. She flushed. Then I spoke. "This is your dream. I believe that is up to you." This was a fib, but the illusion of control is essential, after all.

I seated myself next to her. "Why are there so many cows?" I asked.

"I don't know."

I drew the village milkman's slumbering form to her dream. He blinked in confusion for a moment, then settled down to his business. His hands moved deftly on the cows' udders, and the milk hit his pail with rhythmic pings.

"I think you've been a naughty girl tonight, Angelica," I murmured. She was transfixed by the milkman. She barely noticed when I settled behind her. For a moment, I was transfixed myself by the luxurious view of her cleavage.

"I have?" her voice was dazed.

She was so fascinated with Roger's pulsing fists that she barely noticed when I brought my hands up her sides under her arms to cup her breasts. Her nipples hardened against the silk dress she was wearing, tickling my palms. For me, the sensation was not unpleasant, but it was also weak. In someone else's dream, it is difficult to fully awaken my own senses, although Angelica would be experiencing all the pleasure she could imagine. How could I stand it? Knowing that one day I would grope her in real life, feeling the firmness of her breasts yielding to me. And if I awakened her properly, it would be infinitely more satisfying because she would beg for it despite the fact that she was raised to be a lady.

So I reached inside her dress to touch her skin. I began to squeeze and pinch, and her squirming became more pronounced. She reached her arms up behind her to encircle my neck, and I pulled her firmly against my body. "You are being a very naughty girl right now, my dear," I murmured into her ear.

She stiffened and released me, tried to pull away. I let go of her breasts but began insistently caressing her stomach. "I'm not doing anything to you that you weren't doing to yourself earlier this evening," I said. "Why don't you look at Roger's impeccable technique again?"

"I'm losing my mind," she said.

"Maybe," I said. "Don't you want me to touch you?"

"Yes," she said. "Not through my dress."

I obliged, pulling her breasts clear of the constraining fabric. They were really impeccable breasts. Even in the dream, when I lowered my head to suck the flesh into my mouth, I thought I was in heaven. I felt her pleasure vicariously as her fingers twined in my hair. The sensation of being desired so intensely is what always drives me to undertake these experiments.

Her real body began building to a climax. It was almost time for me to abandon her dream. If she awoke while I was inhabiting her dreams, the results would be problematic. I may or may not be able to return to my corporeal form for some time. I gave her breasts one final squeeze. Then I said, "Until we meet again."

We met again the following night. And the next. And the next. She always greeted me with maidenly modesty, pretending to be scandalized that I wanted to touch her. Gradually, her protestations became farcical. Her clothing became more and more provocative, and so did her behavior. I knew I had finally captured her when she appeared one night completely naked. She had gone to bed a full hour early. Like every night in recent memory, she had slept nude and had spent considerable energy fondling her own perky breasts. I dissuaded her from easing the ache between her legs with her fingers. I wanted her sexual frustration to be acute, and additionally I wanted to save this particular pleasure for myself.

In the dream, she flushed under my rapacious stare. My eyes raked her body, and she responded with a soft sound of desire.

"Logan," she murmured. "I'm ready for you to take me."

I approached her and tenderly stroked her bare skin. It was a mere shadow of what I wanted to do to her, what she wanted me to do to her. I kissed the top of her head.

"Angelica, my darling," I began. Then I had to pause because she took that moment to mold her body against mine. The degree of her pleasure at this simple contact took my breath.

She pressed her lips against mine, an open-mouthed kiss that would have rendered me completely insensible in the real world. "I can feel how you want me," she murmured. Her hands wrapped around my cock, and I thanked God that I could barely feel it or I would have lost all self-control. I had other plans for her, far more pleasurable plans if I could be patient.

Gently, I stilled her hands. "Clever of you to have noticed," I said. "I appreciate your desire to be of aid to my hitherto unrequited hunger for your delectable body. But my dear, you have been most uncourteous to someone."

She blinked. "Who?"

I couldn't keep the smile from my face. "Roger." She looked in perplexity at the milkman, who was staring at her with undisguised longing. Unbeknownst to her, I had "invited" him to witness all of her recent dreams. If she hadn't been so oblivious to the lower classes, she might have noticed his presence.

She certainly noticed it now. He had abandoned his former occupation of milking the cows and was prepared to begin stroking a rather different appendage of his own. I felt a tremor of excitement rush through Angelica, one she quickly repressed. She began trying to cover herself.

I pulled her back into my arms again, letting my hands wander over her body. I turned her to face Roger, leaving the front of her body completely exposed to him. She stiffened as she saw the look in his eyes, but when I began stroking her skin in gentle, teasing circles, she relaxed against me. I trailed my fingertips along her body until my hands were just beneath her breasts.

"Open your eyes, Angelica," I whispered into her ear. "Look how much it affects Roger to watch me squeeze your breasts."

"No," she whimpered.

"I suppose I could release you and we could resume this some other night..."

I felt the conflict tear through her, and in truth, it was not much of a conflict. She wanted to watch him look at her. "I'll watch him," she said.

I covered her flesh with my hands, kneading her body with such intensity that I felt like I was crushing her into me. Her back arched. "You have never felt like this," she moaned.

"No," I countered. "YOU have never felt like this. You like it that Roger desires you so intensely. Watch him stroking himself. He knows you like it that he's watching you. What do you think he's thinking about?"

She was silent, but I knew she imagined he was thinking about taking her virginity.

I laughed softly. "No, my dear. He isn't thinking about that." I released her breasts and spun her around to face me. I captured her breast with my mouth, sucked long and hard on the tender flesh, then clamped the nipple between my teeth. Her body crept towards orgasm again, and I released her just before she could surrender to it. She stepped back from the brink.

Her eyes were in turmoil. "How much longer do I have to wait?" she asked.

I cupped her face in my hands. "I can't ever consummate our desire in your dreams."

She looked thunderstruck. "Never?"

"Not in your dreams," I repeated.

"Do you mean to say that you are real?"

I laughed. "Of course I'm real, my dear. Didn't you meet me at dinner one night?"

She blushed. "Yes, but I assumed these dreams were my own creation."

I didn't directly answer her. "What if it were possible for me to taste your charms in the waking world? Would you allow me to?"

She paused. "I don't know."

"You see, dreams are safer. Women are fickle, and I don't know how far I can trust them with my delicate desires." This was a carefully constructed lie, but she nodded thoughtfully.

"You desire proof of my commitment to you."

I smiled. "Yes, my dear. Proof that you would commit your lustful education to my keeping."

She paused, and her gaze drifted to Roger and his exposed manhood. She shuddered in anticipation. Then she returned her eyes to mine. "I would do anything to feel you inside me."

~Angelica~

I felt utterly ridiculous as I awoke. It was full dark outside, and I was about to sneak out of my window on a crazy mission because a man in my dreams had promised me satisfaction. Satisfaction that I could in no degree really accept without destroying my virtue.

My misgivings did not stop me from going. I wasn't entirely sure I would find him or anyone when I got to the clearing he had indicated. I wasn't sure what he expected of me, but he told me that when I got there, it would become obvious.

It did. I had been standing in the secluded clearing for only a moment when I heard someone shuffling through the grass behind me. Expecting to find Logan, I was surprised to find Roger there instead. I blushed, thinking of the dream he had held a featured role in. This is the sort of thing proper ladies have nightmares about. I started to turn and run, but then I felt something deeper compelling me to stay. I tried to run anyway, but found that I literally could not move. I felt like a crazy person as I stared at him. Involuntarily, my eyes traveled down to his member, which I had just dreamed about. I thought of the way his hands had moved on the cows as he had milked them. I thought of his arousal in my dream. And, for heaven's sake, I had eyes. Genteel he was not, but his long hair was dark against his tanned skin, his muscles rippled invitingly, and his brown eyes drew me to him.

"It wasn't just a dream, then," he said. His eyes traveled up and down my body in a series of quick flickers that took my breath.

"No, I suppose not," I said.

"I don't see any point in covering up your tits, love. I've seen them before."

I blushed, mortified, but my hands were already undoing the laces to the dressing gown I had put on as an afterthought when I left my room. I couldn't stop my hands even though humiliation washed over me. The first man to see my naked breasts was going to be a peasant. Still, his eyes on me brought an irresistible tingle through my body.

He stared at them wordlessly for an eternity. Then he stepped closer. "I think they're even better than you dreamed them," he said. Without waiting for an invitation, he grasped them in his rough hands and began pulling them with the same rhythmic squeezing motion he used on the cows. The building pressure released itself as a moan, and I wrapped my arms around him. In my dreams, I had not been able to do justice to the pleasure of male hands on my body.

"Funny," he remarked as he continued squeezing and pinching me, "I never pegged you as the type to like it rough."

"I don't," I moaned. I wasn't this kind of girl. What was going on? I pulled back and tried to regain my composure, but Roger closed the distance between us. He twisted my nipples so hard that my eyes stung with tears. I shouldn't have liked it, but I heard myself gasp, "God, that feels amazing."

His laugh was triumphant. He lowered his head, and I tensed in anticipation. Instead of closing his mouth on my nipple, though, he buried his chin between my breasts and shook his head side to side. His stubble against my flesh was rough like sandpaper, and when he scraped it along my nipple I could barely contain myself. Then he pulled my breast into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with such intensity that I almost lost consciousness.

I found myself straddling his thigh, wriggling against its firmness. He was breathing hard when he released my breast. "You have the best tits I've ever tasted," he said. A shudder went through me. I should have been insulted. But something deep inside me wanted this.

"Do you have to stop?" I asked.

He grinned. "It's your turn to milk me, love."