I Filmed Myself Alone and Seeing Myself Turned Me On Again

I’m naked, lying on my back on the rug in my bedroom, facing the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covers the whole wall. In the reflection I can see my legs spread open, my sex glistening, my skin flushed. I’m wet, breathless, still throbbing from that last orgasm. I want to calm down, I want a little peace. But my body knows nothing about peace: it wants more.

An hour ago, horniness pushed me to do something I’d never done before. I propped the phone on the shelf, aimed it carefully, and filmed myself in full. Now I’m going to watch the video. I know looking at myself is going to push me to the edge, that I might even come just from that. In fact, just imagining what I recorded sends a shiver through me.

I’m not sure I remember everything I did. Watching it will be like doing it again from the outside. I’m going to find out how daring I was, how far I let myself go, how far instinct drags me when I get like this.

I cast the image to the television and there I am: my body stretched out, my face gone blank, my eyes half-closed. There I am taking the dildo and fastening it to the mirror with the suction cup. I watch myself on all fours, settling my hips, aiming toward that thick, hard cock. I watch myself lubing myself up and lubing it too.

I push. On the screen my face tightens, it’s obvious it hurts. I remember it perfectly: that feeling of wanting to force out something that shouldn’t be there. I don’t know how I took it. Is that really me? The girl in the video keeps going, pushing and pushing, lubing again, pressing again.

At last she stops. Her expression changes. She smiles, lets her shoulders drop, adds a little more lubricant and starts rocking her hips, soft, slow. Yes, now that’s me. I’ve got a gorgeous look of pleasure on my face. The body has already given in, because I’m moving harder, eyes closed, faster and faster.

The video’s audio is low. You can barely hear my ass hitting the mirror. Those thuds turn me on now, watching them. As the recording goes on, my hand lifts on its own to my breasts, stroking them, squeezing them. With each thrust of the girl on the screen, I pinch my nipples, barely biting them.

Surprise: the woman on the TV has started moaning differently. She’s moving with a passion I don’t recognize as mine, her hips have taken on a wild rhythm. The way she fucks herself is brutal. The way she moans. The way she gives herself over.

I don’t even want to imagine what her body is like as it takes it that hard. She starts screaming. The screams mix with the slap of flesh against glass and with her broken breathing.

Watching her, my own nipples go hard. I’m soaked again, drenched.

The girl in the video doesn’t let up. Her screams rise, grow deeper. Pleasure has completely taken her over. She’s enjoying that cock in her ass like only she knows how, and that face of hers, that face of being on the verge of exploding, hypnotizes me. You can tell the orgasm is hitting her. I like it. I like it too much.

I take my dildo and start sucking it while the protagonist keeps riding that silicone shaft with her ass, taking the pounding without giving way, firm, exactly how she wants it.

Sucking it makes me climb higher still. I’m on fire. I want a tongue in my sex, I want someone to finger me, to lick my clit until I scream. I want to feel something inside, for real. Riding is my favorite position, always has been.

And then I remember. I remember the first time I rode a man.

***

I didn’t know the positions, I knew nothing. I let myself be guided by that wild instinct inside me. First I gave myself over on my back, spread my legs to take him, put my feet on his shoulders and moved my hips however I could, trying to have him deep inside me.

Then I remembered how animals do it and got on all fours. I asked him to put it in like that. It felt incredible. Being at his mercy, dominated, open for him, lit me up more and more. I think my moans and the way I was moving my hips finished him off too soon. He came inside me right away. I didn’t give up.

I waited patiently and went back on the attack. I caressed his sex, slow, soft. He was dry and we didn’t have any lube, so I used my own wetness and ran my hand all over him until he started waking up again. I used saliva, spat a little, massaged him. The saliva dried too fast; it wasn’t enough.

So I brought my mouth to him, kissed him, covered him with my tongue, kept him wet and jerked him again. I kissed him again, opened my lips wider and let the saliva drip over him. I imagined my mouth was my sex and fucked him with it: I took him in and out, sucked, milked him. I pushed him in deep and pulled him back out, sucking hard.

By then he was rock hard. This is my moment, I thought. Before he could get on top of me, I got ahead of him and rode him. I looked him in the eyes while guiding his cock with my hand toward mine, already soaked.

“Don’t stop looking at me,” I told him.

And I started lowering myself very slowly until he was all the way inside. I felt him so deep it was as if he were brushing against something new in me. That was when, for the first time in my life, I understood what true pleasure was: that tide building while I rode him without restraint.

I don’t know how long I was on top of him. I remember starting out on my knees on the bed, then crouching, turning around to give him my back, then facing him again. I couldn’t stop going up and down. At last I felt that huge urge to finish.

My moans made him tremble, his cock began those little spasms that announce the end. My moans turned into screams. I felt my first orgasm and, at the same time, that heat exploding inside me. We contracted together, fused in the same thing. It was incredible. I stayed on top of him for a good while, leaning against his chest.

***

That man was left exhausted. I wanted more, of course I wanted more, but I didn’t tell him or even hint at it. He showered and left. He left me alone and on fire. It was inevitable: I masturbated riding the pillow, rubbing my clit against the silk. I did it in the bed, and then again in the shower, with the jets of the jacuzzi pounding over me.

And here I am now, alone and horny again, watching a video of myself. I didn’t have to turn to those websites that always help me get started. I have my own film. I’m the protagonist, I’m the actress, I’m the one who loves touching myself in front of the camera. And damn, I’m filthy.

I want to ride again. My dildo is wet and slippery from how much I’ve been sucking it. I touch myself, finger-fucking myself as if it were something else. They go in and out effortlessly.

I fasten it to the floor with the suction cup and switch it on. It vibrates. So good.

I settle myself to mount it, but my fingers drift on their own to my ass, which is still stretched from before. I lube up and slide one finger in. It goes in and out easily. I put in two and the same thing happens. I want to be fucked from behind, but I also want to ride. My perverse mind searches for a way to have both at once. How do I do it?

While I think about it, I moan with my fingers buried in my ass, and my own moans turn me on even more.

Then it comes to me. I bring out another dildo and stick it next to the first one, on the floor. I’m going to try both. I lube them well. Both my holes are open, ready.

I aim the first at my ass, push, and slide it in. I turn it on full blast. I want to ride it, but it comes loose from the floor. Even better: it’ll stay inside, vibrating.

I move to the other one and guide it to my sex. I start riding. Fast, hard. Up and down, up and down. Every time I drive it in all the way, my ass slams against the floor and the dildo in my ass sinks a little deeper, waking up something that’s growing inside me, something that wants out. I ride harder, pounding, thrusting.

I can’t take it anymore. I start screaming, shamelessly, without restraint. I’m a slut, I’m filthy, I’m loud and scandalous and I don’t give a damn. I ride like a frenzy, completely out of control. The dildo behind me vibrates and pounds on something impossible to name, something that keeps swelling and swelling. What is that strange sensation? I don’t know, but I like it and I can’t stop. I’m not thinking anymore. I’ve handed my whole body over to pleasure.

I’m going to come. Yes. Yes. I’m almost there.

I ride, chasing that orgasm that’s already on its way. It’s close, very close.

I look in the mirror and there I am, mounted, my breasts shaking with every drive, my nipples tight. I love seeing myself like this, seeing how my body moves while the pleasure rises and the dildo in my ass keeps vibrating and I feel like I’m going to burst.

Penetrated from both sides, I ride like what I am tonight. I scream, I moan, louder. Yes. I’m going to burst.

Yes.

Yes.

And then something I wasn’t expecting happens. My body expels a gush, a real gush, liquid splattering everywhere around me. I get on all fours and the gushes keep coming, soaking the rug, the wall, the mirror. I don’t know what to do. Each spasm brings another, weaker each time. I come apart, I collapse, I keep shaking. The dildo in my ass slips out on its own, still vibrating, and that tears one last shudder from me, the final gush of this brutal, endless orgasm, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

I didn’t know my body could do that. I always thought it was a movie trick. But it happened to me. I lived it.

I can’t do any more. I’m out of control and exhausted.

I don’t want to go to the shower yet. I know I won’t be able to handle my own beast when I feel the jacuzzi jets on my skin. I know it. That’s why I stay here, stretched out on the rug, naked and wet with my own fluids. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.