Sara took a look of herself in the mirror. A sad Filipino woman looked back at her. Nice breasts, thick black hair and hips that might be a little too wide were displayed for her inspection. She looked for something to explain why that asshole Mike broke up with her. It had become a regular morning ritual.
There was something new in the mirror. Something was right below her right nipple.
Sara took a closer look in the mirror. It took her a moment to realize that the mirror was reversing the letters.
Sexy. The letters spelled ‘sexy’.
Sara shook her head. How much did she drink last night? It had been a Sunday night and Sara was depressed by yet another weekend alone. Six months after her breakup with that asshole Mike and she was still not over him. Christ, he wasn’t even that good of a fuck.
She grabbed her breast and tried to look at the writing. The letters were red but Sara didn’t think she even owned a red marker. How did she get the letters to be so perfect?
“Maybe drinking really does improve your writing,” she said. She laughed at her own joke. Being alone had taught her to amuse herself.
“Fuck it,” Sara said. She had to shower and get ready for work.
The water didn’t wash the word off. Neither did the soft soap or the sponge. Sara wasted a good ten minutes before giving up.
Sara went to work. The word was covered by her bra and blouse. Her drunk late night scribbling was safe. At least no one at work would see it. Hell, no else would see it either the way Sara’s love life had been going.
It was a busy day at the office but wasn’t it always? Sara sat at her desk and went to work. Reports were typed and emails were answered.
After an hour, she saw another word. It was on the inside of her wrist. It said “Kiss here.”
Sara remembered Mike kissing her wrists. She remembered his rough lips acting so tender on her skin. She recalled his tongue licking against her pulse.
“How drunk was I?” Sara asked. Then she thought of a better question. “How did I not notice this before? It is on my fucking wrist.”
She returned to her work. What if someone asked about it? Sara thought of a few lies, none of them good.
No one asked.
Sara felt something on her left thigh. It was a pleasant feeling as if someone was dragging their finger across her thigh. She didn’t once think it was a big or something unpleasant. It felt too much like a man touching her. It was a feeling she had thought a lot about recently.
She got up from her desk and went to the restroom. If anyone noticed how fast she went, no one commented. Sara went to the restroom and right into a stall. She lifted her skirt up and looked at where the feeling had been.
There were more words. “Fuck me.”
Sara stared in disbelief. She knew those words weren’t there earlier. She may have been hung over this morning but she wasn’t that fucking hung over. Something was happening. She didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t fucking normal.
Something touched her ass. She reached around and under her panties but there was nothing there.
Sara peeked outside her stall. No one else was here. Sara stepped out of the stall and lifted her skirt. She pulled down her panties and tried to look over her shoulder at the restroom mirror.
The letters were backwards in the mirror but Sara was getting good at reading it. Written down her right buttock were the words, ‘bite my ass.’
Sara shivered. Most people would think it was a phrase meant to insult but to Sara, it was an invitation. It was one of her favorite feelings in the world. Her first boyfriend, Gary, used to bite her ass forever before finally going down on her. Sara had a plump ass and there was a lot to bite.
That asshole Mike would only bite her ass once or twice and then try to get a blowjob. Fuck, she missed ass-biting. Why the hell was she with that asshole again?
The restroom door opened and Sara rushed back into the stall. She sat down and bit her lip with fear. She listened but there was no sign that the person had seen her. Shit, what would they say if they did?
As she sat there in terrified silence, Sara noticed the dampness between her thighs. She was wet. She was wet for the first time in a long time.
“What kind of a pervert am I?” she asked herself.
She had to go. Sara straightened herself out and flushed the toilet to maintain the illusion. As calmly as she could, she walked to the sink and washed her hands.
‘Stroke’ was written on her right pointer finger. It was her masturbating hand.
Sara rushed back to her desk. She sent off an email to her boss feigning illness. She walked out of the office and avoided eye contact.
In the elevator she felt more words forming. Something was being written across her left breast. Words were being added to her ass. A gentle touch on her pussy lips told her that something was being written there.
Sara felt it on her cheek. She took out her makeup mirror and looked. “Kiss me” had been written across her cheek.
The elevator opened on the parking lot level. A man looked at Sara as she brushed past him with her head down.
Should she go to the hospital? And tell them what, exactly? Should she call her therapist? Shit, she wasn’t ready to talk about what some of the words were saying much less what they meant to her. Should she call the police? Maybe this was being done to her from outside forces. No, that just wasn’t possible. She had seen the words appear.
Sara felt a weird measure of guilt. Not once did she suspect that some outside force was working against her. She knew better. It was her body. For some reason, her body was rebelling against her.
She drove home as quickly as she could. It was hard to concentrate with the weird touching taking place across her body. Words were breaking out across her body. She kept checking the rearview mirror to see if any more words appeared across her face. Even her feet were feeling the words and Sara didn’t really think about her feet during sex. She was curious to know what was being written.
When she finally got to her apartment, Sara rushed out of the car and up the stairs. Something was being written across her forehead and she didn’t want anyone to see it. God only knew what it was.
Once she was inside, Sara allowed herself a look. The words were “fuck me”.
“No one can fuck me!” Sara yelled at the mirror.
That wasn’t true. There were guys who would fuck Sara but shit, fucking wasn’t everything. Sara wanted to be loved. She thought that asshole Mike loved her. He might have. He just loved fucking his neighbor more.
Sara stripped off her clothes. She went to the bedroom where there was a full length mirror on the door. She had to see all of the words.
Her body was covered in words. Down her thigh was a desperate plea for a solid fuck. Her breasts listed synonyms for pinching. Her arms promised vulgar embraces. Her hands offered to do filthy things. Every inch of her body was filthy with need.
Sara reached down between her thighs. Her fingers pushed past the pubic hair stroked her lips. She felt how wet she was. Her fingers lipped inside her and she moaned.
The woman in the mirror changed. She was no longer the sad Filipino woman. Now she was a horny Filipino woman who really needed to get fucked. Sara liked this woman better.
Her nipples begged to be pinched so Sara obliged them. Still stroking with one hand, Sara used her other hand to grab her nipple. She watched herself as her fingers pulled and twisted her hard nipple. Sara reveled in the pain but she enjoyed watching her pain even more.
Words exploded across her breasts. They were incoherent. Just ‘mmmm’ and ‘aaaahhhh’. Her skin was moaning.
Sara stroked faster.
Her face wanted to be kissed. Sara blew kisses towards the mirror. She couldn’t feel the kisses but she wanted to.
Sara stroked deeper.
She turned around and presented her ass to the mirror. She couldn’t bite her ass but she could pinch it. Her fingers clamped down on her ass just the way she liked it. She pinched down hard. ‘MORE’ screamed the letters on her ass. Sara stopped stroking and used both hands to pinch her ass. Over and over, she covered her ass in angry red pinch marks.
‘FUCK’ appeared on her back in giant letters. Sara giggled. Her body was greedy.
Sara turned around and faced the mirror again. She thought about sitting down but pushed it aside. She wanted to see her body. It had things to tell her and Sara didn’t want to miss any of it.
She went back to stroking her sex. Words formed on her chest and rambled. Sara got closer to read it.
‘a man is fucking me from behind and a cock is in our mouth and we move back and forth as they grab our ass and grab our breasts and we are being groped and pulled and held and fucked’
It was a masturbation fantasy without reason or plot. Sara read the words on her body and her sex clenched. Her body had a filthy imagination.
Sara stroked faster. The words changed; overwriting themselves.
‘the man wants to fuck me but I don’t let him until he bites my ass and bites it good this time and bites it like he means it and when he does that I masturbate and tell him to keep biting and he keeps begging me to fuck but I won’t fuck him until I am done with him biting my ass and that is just the way it is going to be because fuck that asshole mike who never really bit my ass and didn’t know what he was missing.’
Sara stroked deeper. Her climax was coming. It was coming slowly and Sara bit her lip in frustration. She hadn’t masturbated in a good long time so she was really sensitive but also oddly out of practice. It was like her body had forgotten how to climax.
The words broke apart. Letters squirmed and formed on her flesh. A giant ‘S’ appeared on her thigh. A dozen tiny ‘F’s appeared on her breasts. Multiple ‘m’s appeared on her waist and wrapped around her body up towards her breasts. As she came closer to climax, the words degenerated into letters. Her body couldn’t focus enough for words.
Sara came. She cried out as pleasure rippled through her body. Her breasts shook, her knees trembled and tears came to her eyes. Her heart was pounding and she was out of breath. It felt good.
Sara kept stroking, pulling every last wave of pleasure out of her sex. She felt tension that she didn’t even know was there disappear from her shoulders. A smile spread on her face and it looked good. She should smile more.
The words on her skin were gone.