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You inhale sharply at the sight of the gorgeous chestnut haired beauty. Only when she copies your movements as you blurt out an apology do you start to really worry. Belatedly, your body tells you of the chill caress of the satin dressing gown. The mane of hair at your shoulder pressing softly but undeniably against your shoulder.
The blood pounds in your ears, as you struggle to understand what's going on. Then you see, then you feel the mirror woman stiffen. Her nipples clear through the soft material. Snatching the gown closed, you don't feel much less naked.
The swell of your bust outlined by the robe has to be real. You didn't think you had enough imagination for this. For whatever this is...
Still doubting this... if it's real... or some kind of breakdown, you call out.
"Joey."
You were going to say more, to soften the question. But your voice sounds like a phone-sex operator. Even the thought of Joey seems to work on you. Or at least your body, imagining him is making you horny. A liquid warmth in the pit of your stomach, an itch that he can scratch.
You feel your control slip, your imagination fired. The feeling of his warm, strong body pressed against yours. His confident masculinity cocooning your soft vulnerable body, before you reward him with yourself.
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