The Girl in the Mirror (Part 1) (Englisch) - Sexgeschichten

The Girl in the Mirror (Part 1) (Englisch)

... be here in half an hour!!"

The clock radio was not so easy to understand. Damn this old thing, she said to herself as she tried to turn it off. She was emotionally attached to it -- she had gotten it for Christmas when she was eight years old -- but the summer before it had started going off at odd times. She had ended up getting a new one for college. Finally with fumbling fingers she turned off the music and sat up.

Well, time to do my naked thing again, she told herself. But first a few more seconds of being covered. She gathered the blankets around herself and stood up and walked to the door, wrapped up like an Indian woman. Then with a sigh she dropped them to the floor and went naked into the bathroom. In the shower she realized how sticky her pussy had gotten and washed it out thoroughly. She tried to pretend she would be getting into clothes momentarily. Shower, dry, comb hair, brush teeth . . .

She descended to the living room, clean and well-combed and naked, feeling the carpet under her bare feet and that familiar sense of shame beginning to pucker up in her stomach. Her father had made a good choice in clothing. In the same position he was in this morning, sitting in his chair reading the newspaper, he had on a buttoned shirt, a cardigan, corduroy pants, and loafers. Neat but not too formal.

As her mother came in with a tray of coffee things Tami almost groaned. Of course Mrs. Smithers wasn't going to greet the eminent Mr. Noyes in just her apron and ...

... pumps. But she overdid it . . . in her flowered dress and headband, she looked like a real Happy Homemaker. Tami sighed. She wished she had the option of making even bad clothing decisions. But clothing was no longer part of her life.

"Let's just be loose with this guy. You have nothing to worry about," Tami's father said reassuringly, rustling his newspaper. Yet Tami felt queasy as she sat at the couch idly flipping through magazines and watching the minutes tick by. 3:30 . . . 3:35 . . . 3:40 . . . It was the shortest day of the year, and it was already starting to get dark out . . .

Finally at 3:45 the doorbell rang. Tami was surprised at the person Tami's mother escorted into the living room. Somehow she expected a replica of Dean Jorgon. But this guy was not a professorial-looking bureaucract. For one thing, he was huge. As her father stood to introduce himself and shake his hand, she noticed that this guy towered at least eight inches over him. He was solidly built, and looked like an ex-football player who might be still exercising regularly. He looked about fifty years old, gray at the temples, wore a three-piece suit, and spoke in a loud voice.

"Tony Noyes," he said, grabbing Tami's hand with a confident air, looking squarely at her face with no sense that he actually wanted to be looking further down. "This won't take long. I just wanted to see how you're doing."

After everyone exchanged pleasantries and started in on the coffee and cookies, Mr. Noyes ...