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landed on my back on the bed. She moved like lightning, her hands homing in on the heat of my sex, to the wetness that she knew awaited her. I opened my legs, my skirt riding up.
    “Take your clothes off, quickly!”
    I stripped off my skirt and started to pull my top up and over my head while Martine pulled my silk G-string down my legs. The shelves behind us rattled and something fell; the stereo jumped to the CD’s next track. My blood surged with a dangerous, dizzy rush of exhilaration when Martine stroked my legs and moved straight into my heat, taking my clit in her mouth, nursing its fullness and sucking deeply . She moved her mouth over my flesh in deliberate sweeps, ending back on my clitoris, with the tip of her tongue circling it closely, firmly. Oh, she is good. I felt as if a bomb was about to go off inside me.
    That’s when I noticed the mirror that stood close to the bed, and the scene reflected there transfixed me. Martine kneeling between my legs, and as her skirt rode up, I saw she wore stockings but no panties, her pussy naughtily peeping out as she bent between my legs. I could just make out the tip of her tongue, darting out and rolling over my sticky sex folds. It looked so strange, seeing myself like that, with her on me, and it sent me flying toward meltdown.
    “Oh fuuuuuck…”
    Martine lifted her head. Her fingers replaced her mouth, and she plowed them inside me. Her free hand crept up to my bra, and she bent its cups down, setting my breasts free.
    “You want it, don’t you?” she asked, as her fingers tweaked at my nipples, bringing it nearer. She kicked off her shoes and slid her body down with her pussy pressed up against my bare thigh.
    “Oh fuck,” I murmured again when I felt the beautiful wet slide of Martine’s heat on my leg. A wave of pleasure rushed up, the first ebbs of my orgasm.
    “You’re so hot,” she said and her eyes were aflame. She began to move her hips, pressing her sex along my thigh, rubbing frantically. “I’m going to come too!”
    We exchanged a look of total mutual appreciation, both moving desperately, climbing over the threshold. I let my hands close tightly on Martine’s shoulders and pressed my leg up into the hot wet valley of flesh that rode me. Martine’s lips parted and her eyes closed. She ground her hips down and pressed home. With a sudden cry, she came. My core pounded with release, my clit a buzz of sensation.
    After a few moments of labored breathing, I turned my head to look at the mirror. Did Martine put it there on purpose to entertain her lovers? I suddenly wanted mirrors everywhere; I wanted to see sex from every angle. Turning back, I saw Martine unzip her skirt and quickly drop it on the floor. She threw off her bra as she went over to the wardrobe that stood in the gloomiest corner of the room, and rustled around inside. When she turned back, I didn’t know where to look first: at the bright silver barbells that pierced her nipples or at the enormous strap-on cock hanging from one hand.
    She walked back and held it out. I took it in my hand, my eyes on stalks as I examined the huge contraption. It was molded with distended veins and the head was huge, engorged, as if it were about to explode. I ran my fingers around the edge of the head, imaging that rubbing against me, inside. My sex clenched.
    “Wow,” I murmured, looking up at Martine.
    “You like it, huh?”
    “It’s, um, amazing!”
    “You must put it on.”
    “Me?” I blurted.
    “Yes, I need more,” she demanded impatiently.
    The last round was obviously just for openers. I glanced at the clock; there was still time. Martine was already laid out on the bed, her knees pulled up and her legs open. She had two fingers up to the hilt inside her sex, thrusting vigorously. Her breasts had rolled out to the sides. The piercings made her nipples look loaded, like twin torpedoes about to be launched. Between her legs, her fingers were slick with wetness.
    I stood over her,