The Mirror

Squatting on a magnifying mirror, I spread the lips of my vagina with the fingers of my hands, while with my index finger I massaged my clitoris. It did not take long for the humors to flood, and the first spasms of the orgasm began to make the liquid-dripping inside of my vagina contract. I remembered the image of the Dionea, the plant that closes on the prey just as it escapes from the grip. So many times in the garden I had witnessed the empty disappointment of the plant locked in vain above nothingness. Another thought came to my mind: The time when I sat my finger between the toothed leaves to satisfy the contractions of the Dionea. So I also did it in my cunt: I left the clitoris and sticked middle, ring and index fingers inside and I felt the skin lie on my fingers and cling them in a grinding embrace. The contractions became very strong, almost painful and a bit of cum over the mirror marked the rediscovered, full peace of my senses.