Porn mirror. Ishioka

Annie was in a great mood after buying a large mirror at the antique shop.
There were three reasons: first, the price was reasonable; second, the mirror was beautiful; and third, the young male shop assistant was very handsome and seemed to have a crush on her, which she reciprocated. This third reason might have even contributed to the first. His special affection for her led him to sell it to her at a particularly low price.
He even personally delivered the mirror and installed it on her wall.
Annie really hoped he would ask her out and become friends. But he didn't. And since he didn't suggest it, she felt too embarrassed to bring it up; after all, she was a woman.
Perhaps she would try buying something from his shop again in a few days.
Annie slowly took off her clothes in front of the large mirror, admiring its beauty. Originally, a mirror was just a mirror, simply a large piece of glass with mercury on the back—all pretty much the same. The beauty lay in the frame. This frame was exceptionally beautiful, antique-looking, made of wood with intricate carvings, painted gold, resembling bronze, but actually made of wood.
Anne stripped naked, stood before the mirror, and raised one leg, resting it on the back of a chair in front of it. Because her leg was raised high, she could see a place she couldn't normally see. This mysterious place, though usually kept hidden from others, contained parts that even she couldn't see herself. That was the area below her vulva, visible only in the mirror. There was a brown birthmark next to her, a stark contrast to the fair skin of her leg. Although the area was already dark, this birthmark was even darker. Looking at herself, she wondered again if her future lover or husband would find it offensive. Perhaps the beauty of the rest of her body could compensate? She was still a virgin, inexperienced, and couldn't be sure.
Suddenly, a man appeared in the mirror, startling her. Although this was the man who had sold her the mirror, and she liked him, his appearance in this situation still made her extremely embarrassed. She quickly covered her upper and lower body with her hands, saying, "You…how did you get in?"
He only gave her a mysterious smile.
She turned around and said, "You can't just barge in like that—" She trailed off, because there was no one behind her. She had assumed the reflection in the mirror was a mirage, so he must be behind her, but there was no one there.
She turned back again, but still saw him in the mirror.
He reached out his hand and said, "Come on, come with me, I'll make you happy!"
As if hypnotized, she involuntarily reached out and took his hand. And just like that, she was pulled into the mirror. Anne discovered that inside the mirror was another wondrous realm.
It was a boundless place; she couldn't see her room anymore. The floor was a clean, soft carpet, and everywhere she looked, white mist was rising. The young man said, "Annie, take my clothes off."
Normally, Anne would feel resentful about this, because he should be the one serving her. But now she didn't feel that way; she did as he asked.
He lay down, relaxing and accepting Anne's service. Anne had never undressed a man before, and she felt clumsy, but she still did it.
The last thing she took off was his briefs; she could see something huge throbbing inside. She knew what it was, but she had never seen it before. If she took it off now, she could see it. And indeed, she saw it.
It was the ugliest yet most beautiful thing, ugly because of its unsightly appearance, beautiful because she desperately needed it.
It throbbed, a few drops of clear fluid leaking from its purplish-red glans, as if inviting her. She involuntarily lowered her head, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue, tasting and enjoying it.
It throbbed even more violently and swelled even more.
Then, he moved his body so that his head and hers were facing opposite directions, and he was beneath her. At this moment, Anne could see what his face was closest to and what she could see most clearly. His face was directly opposite her vulva; he must have seen the birthmark too.
She pulled her mouth away for a moment and asked, "Am I... ugly?"
"No!" he said, "Not ugly at all. Nobody's perfect!"
Then she felt his mouth rise up, and his hands moved as well, reaching down to cup her breasts. Her breasts were extremely sensitive, and his touch sent waves of sensitivity through her entire body. His tongue was also moving on another, even more sensitive spot—her clitoris. All three of her most sensitive spots were being stimulated, driving her almost mad. Her mouth involuntarily worked even harder. She was so excited that she wanted to bite something, but she couldn't bring herself to bite down on what was inside her mouth.
Her body convulsed wildly, and soon, she felt a jolt of electricity coursing through her body. She couldn't bear his tongue any longer; it was just too sensitive. She had reached her first orgasm. But at that moment, his tongue also stopped moving.
She went limp and didn't want to do anything.
He crawled out from under her and turned her over so she was lying on her back.
Anne let him do as he pleased.
He knelt down, spread her legs, and lifted them slightly, while he moved forward. From this angle, Anne felt his penis was incredibly powerful, like in a movie she remembered seeing, a war movie, where a submarine launched torpedoes from the seabed, and the torpedoes were aimed directly at the camera, their round heads so terrifying, so threatening. The situation now was almost the same. The torpedo arrived and penetrated. It began to insert into her vagina.
Anne's body trembled again. She was swollen, so adorably swollen; if it were to withdraw now, she would truly die. But not withdrawing also meant death, a different kind of death, a very comfortable death. Before the torpedo pierced that barrier, she had already "died" once. Afterward, the torpedo rampaged, even more relentlessly, causing her to die again and again, until the torpedo exploded, but it was a burst of heat that shot straight to the deepest part.
Anne's whole body also seemed to explode and ascend, because the heat seemed to flow directly to her heart, so sweet that she couldn't bear it and exploded. She knew it was semen being ejaculated.
She couldn't open her eyes. She only heard him say, "Now, you have to go back."
Annie's lips wouldn't move; she could only ask in her heart, "Will we...see each other again?"
She couldn't ask, and he didn't answer.
She fell asleep.
When she woke up, she was already lying on her bed in her room, sunlight streaming in through the window. She sat up abruptly. The "dream" from last night was so vivid; could it not have been a dream? She looked in the mirror and saw that she was still completely naked. She didn't dare look in the mirror again, and looked down at herself. Sure enough, it was, and she saw something terrible: bloodstains left on the sheets.
It was her own blood; as she sat up, some more flowed out. She reached out to touch it; it was sticky, not her own. Although she had never experienced this before, she believed it was semen produced by a man, and the blood streaks were hers. She also felt a burning pain; she was no longer a virgin!
She jumped out of bed, only then realizing how much pain it caused. The pain made it difficult for her to move quickly; her legs gave way, and she collapsed, landing right in front of the door.
She looked up, and there was the door she was looking for. She checked the latch; it was closed. No one could have sneaked in while she was asleep. The intruder couldn't have closed the latch after leaving. The window was out of the question too; it was barred, and besides, her apartment was on the twentieth floor.
Could it really be the mirror?
Anne, ignoring the pain between her legs, got up, grabbed a chair, and threw it at the mirror.
But, unbelievably, the chair bounced back, and the mirror was undamaged.
Outside the door, her mother called out, "Anne! Anne! What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" Anne said, "I just tripped!"
"Are you alright?" her mother asked.
"It's alright!" Anne said. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
"You should get up now," her mother said. "We're waiting for you to have breakfast!"
"Coming," Anne said. "I'll come out after I change my clothes."
At noon, Anne appeared at the antique shop again.
She stepped down the stairs and entered the dark shop, which was located in a basement. Only a basement could hold so many quirky things without paying exorbitant rent.
She wanted to find that young man; he was truly despicable. If she had asked him properly, he would have given in. Why did he have to resort to such wicked means? She wanted to… She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she wanted to find him, reason with him, and teach him a lesson before she felt at ease.
Seeing no one, she called out, "Hey! Is anyone here?"
Someone behind her said, "Miss, what's wrong?" It was a dry, hoarse voice, like a crow's, which startled her.
She quickly turned around and saw an old man who was thin and wrinkled. "Who...are you?" Anne asked.
"My name is Johnson, everyone calls me Uncle Johnson," the old man said. "This shop is mine."
"I'm looking for that young shop assistant," Anne said. "I bought a mirror here yesterday."
"What shop assistant?" Uncle Johnson asked. "What mirror?"
"I bought it here yesterday," Anne said. "A large antique mirror."
"I don't understand," Uncle Johnson said. "I have many mirrors here, but I don't have any shop assistants, just me. Do you have a receipt?"
"No," Anne said. "I paid in cash."
"Let me check," Uncle Johnson said, walking around a bunch of odds and ends to the back of the counter.
He flipped through a thick ledger, then looked up and said, "Miss, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. I haven't sold a single mirror all month!" After Anne left helplessly, Johnson chuckled and went into a back room. He pushed open a cabinet on the back wall, revealing a secret room filled with many strange antiques. Among them was a large mirror, seemingly identical to the one Anne had bought. However, if the two mirrors were placed side-by-side for comparison, it became clear that they were not identical. It's the frame. The carved details on Anne's frame, the recessed parts, are convex on this mirror. And the convex parts of her mirror are recessed here. If the two frames were placed side by side, the recessed and convex parts would meet perfectly, fitting together tightly.
Uncle Johnson's mirror is masculine because there's a small statue head protruding from the top center of his frame, while on Anne's frame, this part is recessed. Protrusion is easier to identify than concavity. However, without looking directly at the large black wooden statue in the mirror, it's still not recognized as a statue—just a miniature model of the large statue's head. Although the black wooden statue was ugly, it had a male organ protruding from its body, which wasn't ugly by male organ standards. This organ was very well-formed, healthy in shape, and of excellent length and girth.
Uncle Johnson stood in front of the mirror, and his reflection appeared in it. But this reflection wasn't the old man Anne had seen; it was the young man who had possessed her. Uncle Johnson knelt before the mirror and kowtowed, saying, "Karakkaduya, thank you for giving me the chance to regain my youth, for giving me a great chance."
The young man's reflection in the mirror disappeared again, and Uncle Johnson saw Anne's bedroom.
It seemed this mirror could turn Uncle Johnson into a young man, but if he needed the abilities of a young man, he still had to use the mirror; the real him couldn't formally pursue Anne.
Anne's room was empty yet, except for a few pieces of underwear on the bed. Uncle Johnson continued to watch with great interest.
Later, he saw Anne enter the room. Anne was home now, and she had brought back a hammer. She locked the door and started randomly banging on the mirror with the hammer.
Johnson Burberg laughed loudly: "You can't break it. The power of Karakadua protects it; you can't break it."
And indeed, in Anne's home, Anne couldn't break it. This was the hammer she had bought specifically for this purpose; she wanted to use it to break the mirror's glass, but she failed.
She hammered until she was drenched in sweat, and eventually, even the wooden handle broke, the hammerhead flew off, and the mirror remained unbroken.
She knelt on the ground and began to cry.
Just then, someone knocked on her door, and her mother called from outside, "Anne! Anne! What are you doing in there?"
Anne opened the door, completely disoriented.
Her mother was with Aunt Shoef. The house had been empty when she returned home, but now her mother and Aunt Shoef were back. Her mother looked at the room and said in astonishment, "Anne, what's wrong? Have you gone mad?"
Anne sobbed, "I don't like this mirror! I'm going to break it!"
"Look," her mother said, "how willful! You were so happy when you bought it yesterday, and now you want to break it."
Mrs. Smith said, "If you don't like it, just take it out and throw it away."
"I can't throw it away!" Anne said. She didn't dare explain why she couldn't throw it away; she was afraid a young woman's family might take it back, and that would be terrible. She could only say, "I spent so much money to buy it."
Her mother said, "Wouldn't it be even more wasteful to break it?"
This question left Anne speechless, but Mrs. Smith came to her rescue. She said, “If you don’t like it, you can give it to me. It’s a very beautiful mirror.”
Anne’s mother said, “Why give it away? Give it to Mrs. Shoeffer.”
“Okay,” Anne said, “I’ll give it to you, but you have to take it right away.”
“Thank you so much!” said Mrs. Shoeffer.
Anne thought it was a very good idea. In her mind, Mrs. Shoeffer was the ugliest and greediest person in the world, so it was perfect for her. Let that ghost bother Mrs. Shoeffer and see if she’s interested.
Since Mrs. Shoeffer was greedy, taking it right away was also a good idea for her. She could move the mirror before Anne changed her mind. With
the mirror gone, Anne could sleep peacefully that night.
But she still wouldn’t be truly at ease for two months. During that month, she went to see the doctor several times. The doctor confirmed that she was no longer a virgin. But that wasn't the worst part; the most terrifying thing was the potential consequences—she feared she might get pregnant.
However, time proved she wasn't.
And that person stopped harassing her.
Without the mirror, there was no more harassment, and she could finally relax.
That evening, her mother brought up Mrs. Shoeffer.
Her mother said Mrs. Shoeffer was very lucky; a widow in a difficult situation, yet she had gotten a well-paying job that was perfect for her.
"What job?" Anne asked.
"The headmistress of Oak Girls' Boarding School," her mother said.
"My God!" Anne exclaimed.
"What?" her mother said, "Aren't you happy for her?"
"This…when did this happen?" Anne asked, almost breathless, unable to speak.
"The day after you gave her the mirror," her mother said.
"Then…then…where's the mirror?" Anne asked.
“Of course she took the mirror,” her mother said. “She’s moving to the school. Would she really throw away such a beautiful mirror? And this woman never throws anything away!”
“My God!” Anne exclaimed in horror. “My God!”
The mirror had indeed been taken by Mrs. Shoemaker and hung in the middle of the dormitory hall. Every boarding girl passed by, and girls loved looking in the mirror. Every single one of them had looked in it, and therefore, Uncle Johnson had seen every single one of his girls.
The mirror in his secret room was the other half; he could see out of his mirror and see where the other mirror was placed, and do whatever he wanted.
That evening, Uncle Johnson was waiting in front of the mirror again. He murmured, "They're all so young and fresh, but it's a pity there aren't many truly beautiful ones. But today, finally, a beautiful one has arrived!"
His mind was filled with lovely memories. These girls were all sixteen or seventeen-year-old virgins, and he had already taken seven of them. Each of them possessed a different kind of beauty, and he could enjoy them at will.
The most delightful thing was the blood afterwards—sometimes a lot, sometimes very little.
As he thought this, the new girl appeared.
This one was beautiful, with long, lustrous, golden hair.
She wore a white bathrobe, the standard pajamas in the dormitory, but she wasn't wearing anything underneath, which was against the rules, and it was also against the rules for her to come out at night.
As if hypnotized, she went to the mirror, and in it appeared the handsome young man, the same one Anne had met.
He smiled and reached out his hand; she took it, and he pulled her into the mirror.
This young man was actually Uncle Johnson in disguise; it was Uncle Johnson who reached out. He took the girl's hand and also entered the mirror, now transformed into a handsome young man.
They were once again on an endless, pristine white carpet.
He pulled up her robe, pulled it over her head, and removed it, revealing her completely—such a beautiful body.
Her skin was like cream, her hair was golden, and even the pubic hair in her triangle area was golden.
She was quite willing and lay down on the carpet in a graceful posture. Johnson also slowly undressed himself. He was clearly very interested in gold. In the past, he always made each girl serve him first, just like Anne had done. This was something girls usually wouldn't do on their first time, but under his magic, they would. Johnson was most interested in this, giving her the first time and making her do what she wouldn't normally do.
But this time, Johnson didn't ask her to do so. He admired her too much. He knelt between her legs, carefully parting them, revealing a golden center, the labia minora a tender pink. It was beautiful, a tender pink, tightly closed, neat and clean. He used his fingers to slightly open them, and when he released them, they springed back to their original shape—so elastic.
She was panting, writhing. As Johnson's lips approached, she writhed even more violently. Writhing and writhing until she could no longer restrain herself, her hips arching upwards, letting out a long "Ah!", her whole body trembling violently, and then she went limp. It was her first orgasm.
Johnson didn't hesitate, immediately mounting her.
He guided his youthful and powerful penis, aiming at her, and slowly moved forward. Her tightly closed vagina opened for him, but remained firmly inside.
Johnson slowly advanced, and she let out dreamy moans. This was another kind of enjoyment; the previous one was external enjoyment, but this was a deep enjoyment. Women have this advantage over men—the ability to experience two different kinds of pleasure.
Johnson had advanced about a third of the way when he felt resistance. That was her hymen. He continued without pausing, steadily advancing. For a moment, the girl's brow furrowed, clearly in slight pain. For some, this barrier is particularly thick, requiring force to break through, which causes pain.
The pain accumulated, and so did the resistance, until suddenly it broke through. This caused Johnson's advance to accelerate abruptly, reaching the end of her vagina in one go. She cried out again, and then her reaction intensified. Having reached the end and unable to go any further, Johnson retreated, but not completely; he only retreated a portion, then continued advancing, reaching the end again before retreating once more.
With each thrust, the pace quickened until she reached another trembling climax.
Johnson paused, letting her rest for a while before resuming his movements. This time, he raised her legs so he could see her vulva. He did this with every girl, because he could see the blood. She was special; the red against the gold was particularly clear, unlike the red against the black. This
angle was powerful, allowing for deep penetration, and she reached climax even faster, pleading, "No, no more... I can't take it!"
Johnson didn't wait any longer, indulging himself in the final pleasure, ejaculating wildly, causing her to tremble as if she were about to fall apart.
They lay there for a long, long time before separating. Johnson couldn't keep her any longer and told her to go home.
"You have to go back!" Johnson said.
"I love you!" she
said. "You can come again tomorrow night."
"Really?" she asked.
"Really," Johnson said. She was a woman of many tastes, and he decided to enjoy her a few more times.
She fell asleep in a daze and woke up in bed. But her reaction was not like Anne's; she savored the memory with infinite sweetness.
The next night, the blonde, almost perfect beauty quietly emerged from the room again and went to the mirror.
Johnson, transformed into a handsome young man, appeared in the mirror again and reached out to her.
But this time, Anne jumped out of the darkness, stood in front of her, and held up an ancient painting on parchment with a saint on it.
Johnson screamed in terror and instantly reverted to his original form, shattering the mirror and sending shards falling.
The young woman, as if waking from a dream, exclaimed in horror, "I...I shouldn't be here!"
"Go back to your room quickly!" Anne whispered, "Mrs. Smith is coming out soon."
The young woman hurried back to her room, and Anne followed.
Sure enough, Mrs. Smith came out at the sound of the noise and saw that the mirror was completely devoid of glass.
She didn't know Anne had done it, although she knew Anne also lived there, having stayed overnight because Anne had come to visit her that day.
She was unaware of the extensive preparations Anne had made before her arrival. Anne had visited numerous libraries, consulted countless books, and then sought an audience with the abbot of a monastery, recounting her experiences and borrowing the ancient icon treasured there.
Meanwhile, in the antique shop, the appearance of the icon sent Johnson reeling as if struck by lightning, crashing into the ebony statue. He happened to be sitting on the statue's organ, crushing it, and then the statue burst into flames.
The fire in the enclosed chamber went unchecked, growing ever stronger. Eventually, it spread outside, until thick smoke billowed out, finally attracting attention.
Because it started in the basement, it was difficult to extinguish, and the fire finally went out on its own by dawn.
Firefighters entered the area to search for survivors, knowing the chances of anyone surviving were slim, but they did it anyway.
They found no survivors, but they found the mirror.
The two firefighters stared blankly at the mirror, greatly puzzled. The mirror was intact. In such a fire, the glass would surely have melted under the intense heat, but it hadn't. The frame was also made of wood, and it hadn't burned away either.
Moreover, some of the original elements on the mirror were a portrait, like those on exquisite crystal objects where the carvings were inside the crystal, not on the outside.
Both firefighters lived nearby, and they recognized him.
"Isn't that Uncle Johnson's portrait?"
"Yes!"
Johnson's appearance was also strange, his face filled with a horrified expression, as if he were calling for help but couldn't make a sound.
"This is strange!" one of the firefighters said. "Let's move this mirror outside and see what's going on."
They carefully moved the mirror outside and placed it on the ground.
The sun was rising, the shadows were shortening, and the sunlight shone directly on the mirror. Just then, the mirror clattered, a wisp of smoke rose, and vanished. The mirror glass was completely gone.
Afterward, they never found Uncle Johnson's body.
When Anne went to the doctor for her next examination, the doctor also discovered something unbelievable.
Anne was still a virgin. All along, she had clearly not been.
He couldn't explain it, but Anne could, though she wouldn't explain it to him.
The girls at the girls' high school were the same. Many of them remembered their passionate encounters and longed for them to happen again, but after the mirror shattered, they suddenly felt immense regret.
They all went to the doctor for examination, but the doctor said they were all virgins with no problems and had never been touched by a man.
Therefore, they all believed that what they had experienced, though seemingly real, was actually just a dream. (The End)

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Porn mirror. Ishioka

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