Dress Up - Part 9

 

My eyes still glued to our reflection, I slowly pulled the strap of the dress off of my shoulder, as if I was in a play.

He closed the space between us and this time I didn’t stop him. Didn’t have a reason to stop him.

Didn’t want to stop him.

He pulled down the rest of the dress, caressing as he went, his hands on my skin sending electric shivers through me that only got more intense when they reached my hips and thighs.

I fixed my gaze on the mirage in the window, on how impossibly normal and together we looked. Was it really me in there? That reflection—how was it so clearly Carol? Like nobody else could ever see it any other way.

He laid me back against the counter, and I let him lift the hem of my dress, let him finish what he’d started.

“Ron,” was all I managed to say, a shaky whisper.

He looked up at me with such love in his eyes. Such certainty.

His hand guided himself inside me and I gasped, the sensation more than I’d expected. Way more.

It happened so easily. Too easily. Like it was supposed to feel just like this all along.

“Carol,” he murmured.

“Okay,” I said again, closing my eyes as we moved together, disbelief still thrumming through me, “Okay.”

I let out a feminine moan. I couldn’t help myself.

My eyes widened, and I grinned. It was okay. No one would know. I moaned louder.

“Holy shit,” I said, half laughing, half in awe of the feeling.

We moved faster. Closer. I hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t thought I could feel anything like it. Not as Carol. Not with Ron.

“Oh god, Ron! Oh god!” I cried out, playing the part, “Fuck me!”

Then my whole body tensed and released with a flood of sensation.

“Wow,” I gasped, still grinning stupidly, as my body convulsed with pleasure, “Oh my god.”

But he hadn't cum yet. He pulled out, breathing hard—but still wanting.

“Carol,” he said again, that unwavering smile on his face as he pulled me up to stand in front of him.

I tried to catch my breath and keep up with where this was going. This fantasy world had its own momentum, and I was barely hanging on.

He turned me around, gently bending me over the counter. I watched our reflection again, stared at the two of us—me bent over, him behind me. My hair fell loose around my shoulders as he pushed back inside me and I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

I felt like I was in one of those pornos.

This time it felt even more intense. Deeper. Like letting go of all control.

“Oh, fuck…” I heard myself whimper, and I could barely believe how good it felt.

“Harder!” I found myself saying, and he obliged, holding my hips in place as he went faster.

I couldn’t keep my voice down. Didn’t even try. I filled the room with screams that weren’t mine.

The panic was gone. The doubt was gone. It was just us—Ron and Carol—lost in the moment like everyone expected us to be. Like maybe I wanted us to be.

His pace quickened and I almost lost myself in the reflection—Carol's face contorted with pleasure. It was so bizarrely her. So undeniably me.

“Ron!” I shrieked, “Fuck! Fuck!”

I couldn’t believe it. I was going to cum again. Twice!

“I’m gonna…” He gasped at the same moment my entire body shuddered with a second release.

“Yes!” I screamed, laughing wildly as he grabbed my hips, “Yes!”

I felt him come inside me and I couldn’t stop grinning. Couldn’t believe it.

“Wow,” I whispered again, trying to catch my breath, savoring the moment.

We stayed there for a while, both panting, taking in what had just happened. Then he pulled out and zipped himself up with that crazy confidence only shadow-Ron had.

Maybe it was the lingering reflection of us together that made me forget myself. Maybe it was how much I had started to believe it. But I must’ve been a little too caught up in the fantasy, because I turned around and started kissing him. French kissing him.

“I love you!” I said it before I could stop myself, and the words hung in the air like a flare.

He stopped kissing me long enough to look into my eyes. Long enough to make me suddenly afraid he’d seen through it all. But then he smiled that goofy smile.

“Love you too, babe,” he said, and I exhaled with relief.

I stood there, the counter cold against my hands, and stared at the distorted reflection in the window. My hair was wild, my lipstick smeared—exactly what you'd expect if you walked in on newlyweds fucking on the kitchen counter.

I found myself giggling like a schoolgirl, feeling both ridiculous and exhilarated by letting go like this. By being Carol. Fucking Carol.