Mirror Mirrored

‘Mia?’, with no other information besides her exact location in the mall, I had to brace myself as I approached the only Indian girl in the vicinity, whom just happened to be standing at the ‘level 4 directory’ as she had described. Without a word, she turned around and gave me a stare of contemplation, which successfully stirred up my confusion, before she flashed me that reassuring smile. Glad that I ‘got’ the right person, I was about to introduce myself, and even shake hands with her, when she suddenly grabbed hold of my wrist.

While I was a little shocked, it was mostly relief that I felt, having done the craziest thing of ‘approaching the right stranger’. What I did not expect, was for her to drag me into a handicap toilet next to where we met, and dived straight into my arms. Of course, I was at a loss for words, and a deeper loss for thoughts about where we were (toilet). I mean, what kind of meaningful relationship can we form here?

Being held in her arms, I couldn’t tell what she was up to until her hand brushed against my groin, advancing at a pace too fast for even a ‘thirsty’ old man. By the time I saw what she was up to, she was already stepping out of her panties, and swiftly went on to remove her bra from under.

‘Wait! What?’, those two Ws went nowhere as she slienced me with a finger over my lips, thereafter pushing me up against a wall. I was still in greater-shock when she brought my hand to the back of her head, as if she was demanding me to ‘make out with her fiercely’. Thankfully, I was wrong about that. Our lips never touched each other’s, but her quick descend down my body brought up another fear I did not want.

It was then I understood, what she meant by dressing casual. It was definitely easier, for her to undo a pair of running shorts, than a pair of jeans that one would normally wear to impress. Instead, she executed her plan to leave a deep, and lusting impression on me, right at that moment her lips went over my little head. Although she didn’t go any deeper, she reminded me about my ‘privilege(s)’, through our hands behind her head. I remained mostly afraid to do anything until she pushed against my hand, to drive her mouth down my shaft. Without enough ‘encouragement’, my hand began moving on its own, in the direction of my cock she was generously salivating over.

In a semi-high state of mind, I blurted ‘ahhh.. you.. suree.. ‘ as if it would make a difference, and it did. She flicked my hand off and slapped both her hands onto my hips, officially relieving me of my duties and strength, through those deep and mind-blowing strokes she landed on my cock. For a man, I was squirming and tipping left and right from pleasure, shamelessly putting on my most-vulnerable expressions for her enjoyment.

Before I know it, she wrapped a hand around my dong and jerked me as she slurped me dizzy, in a grin that was both naughty and scary. Faced with such adversity, my body couldn’t hold anything back and was in an overdrive mode quickly, cocking and readying my ‘ammunition’ without restraints. In a weak and pleading tone, I cried out ‘Mia’ twice more, only to send herself all the way down to the base of my manhood, for that defining explosion. For a long time, everything went quiet and still, save for that loud gulp we could both hear through the silence.

In a flash, she was on her feet, and yelped ‘J?’ as a continuance for my earlier greeting. How else would I reply, except in a breathless, and exhausted tone, ‘Yes I am’. With that, we left the forsakened corner and went for a movie. Under her flowy dress, ‘nothingness’ was all I needed to return the favour, effectiveness expressed in the form of (my) wrinkly fingertips, the moans she had to muffle with her hands, and ultimately how she needed help to walk out of the theatre.

No, she didn’t need a listening ear, nor did she want a sexually-driven man. She merely needed someone to help her feel alive again.

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