Since your lustful actions have caused all the trouble you decide to rub one out

Alone at last I leaned back against a mirror to try and calm myself, regain control. Instead I fell flat on my ass when the mirror turned out to be empty space.

On the ground, I turned my head and stared straight up my own skirt into my pussy lips. I'd never seen them up close before. I'd swiped my mom's hand mirror once to take a look. It was probably then that I knew I wasn't a lesbian. The sight of my own lightly fuzzed vagina looking back at me was repulsive. I put back the mirror and went out to buy a waxing kit right away, and never again looked at the other girls in the shower.

But now this was a whole different experience, a completely different look. Gone was all the unsightly hair, and the cleft looking back at me was all puffy, almost red, and looked like it had been coated in oil that had run in streams down my legs. Of its own accord my hand yanked up on the skirt, lifting my ass off the floor to get a better look.

Trembling, my fingers slid down my exercise-toned abs, the press-on nails scratching lightly across the skin, making me arch my back. I watched the pink painted nails inch toward the prize, only to stop, as if they had a mind of their own. A groan of frustration escaped me, and I urged the mirror-me to plunder my sex, to give me release, certain that doing so would end my streak of bad luck, reset the day.

Instead I looked at myself in the mirror, thinking how it looked wrong. Not bad, but like it didn't look as it should. I was almost surprised when my fingers changed course, making their way to the zipper of the tiny skirt that once had been part of my middle-school uniform. Now it was a mini, bordering on a micro. A moment later it was gone from my body. The zipper, already split up the middle to form a slit, took but a touch to fall to the floor beneath me.

Not satisfied with seeing my pelvis nude my hands rushed up to my chest, digging the slightly pointed nails into my sizeable tits and yanking, hard, pulling the shirt open fiercely. Not satisfied I ripped at the clasp of the bra, setting my boobs free.

A smile came to my face at the sight of my near-naked body in the mirror. My boobs, big and made bigger by my small frame, were topped by thick, hard nipples that pulsed like they were trying to drink in the air and the remnants of sunlight that the mirrors pumped into this public room, where anyone could walk in at any moment. The thought made me shiver and I slipped my arms free of shirt and bra.

My back was still arched a bit, pushing my firm little bubble-butt into the air, showing off just how slim my mid-riff was. Depending on where I looked, some mirrors showed me from the side, some showed a view straight between my legs, my little pussy framed by a pair of cheap plastic thigh high boots.

Biting my lips I kept tugging on my nipples, pulling my perky breasts up into long cones before letting them go and starting again, gripping them around the base like my hands were ropes, making them mushroom up and out of my hands. It was fascinating to see the shape of them as I manipulated them, but my legs were getting wobbly from how turned on I was.

Never quite forgetting that I was in a public place, that someone could walk in on me at any moment, I gave my nipples one last tweak before brushing my hands down my side, as if uncertain whether I'd have them go to my pussy or my ass. Looking at it in the mirror I could see why guys liked staring at my butt. It was so round, yet so firm.

As I let my hands cup my cheeks it seemed perfectly natural that Chad and Derek and Steve, among others, had all, at some point in time, smacked or grabbed it in the halls at school. With my own hands wandering over it, seeing it like they would have, it seemed almost natural that they should have done so. I even felt a little disappointed in myself for having acted outraged instead of encouraging.

My fingers slid into the crevice of my buttocks, and I felt that small little puckered orifice that had aroused the attention of more than one boy. I'd always denied that it could be a point of pleasure, but circling it now with pointed fingers I could feel my legs wobble. With the coating of my own juices I was able to push against the ring and felt it open, my pointer finger popping inside.

Arching my back even more with a loud groan, my head tilted backward and I could see my face, eyes slitted and mouth in a wide O of unexpected delight as I pushed the finger deeper. In and out, going further each time. I wanted another finger, even though I didn't know if it would fit, but I could think of no reason not to try and slide another one in beside the first. I bit my lip at the stretch, but my little hole seemed eager for more, relaxed and receptive to the idea that it should have things pushed into it. Bigger things, like the first and second finger that ever so slowly **** it open enough for them both to sink in until my knuckled kissed my cheeks.

"That's it. More, baby, more."

"Shh. She'll hear you.. Damn," a hushed voice said, and I moaned.

"Oh yeahhhhh.... fuck my ass... harder," I urged, telling my fantasy lover, jerking my fingers in and out. Could I fit a third?

Then reality caught up with me as my eyes locked onto a mirror and the reflection of what must have been the entrance. Two men were leaning in, one holding a camera and the other a phone. As my eyes met theirs they straightened.

"Shit. Run!"

"Dammit, that was getting so good. I mean, it'll still get a million views, but..."

"Shut up and run!"

Horrified that the day should have taken yet another humiliating turn I stumbled to my feet and tried to rush after them. It's probably a good thing that I hit a mirror instead, otherwise I'd have forgotten my clothes entirely and run out into the open air in nothing but my thigh-highs. Rubbing my fore-head I snatched up the skirt and shirt and used my feet to try and determine what was mirror and what was open air.

Finding the exit was made even more difficult by my efforts to fix my clothes. I finally realized that my tiny tartan skirt wasn't supposed to have a slit at all. The zipper had split under the strain, leaving only the top teeth inside the tab. I managed to affix the two together, but I could tell that it would fall apart if jostled, and it meant that a naked line of flesh ran all the way up to just below my hip-bones. I gave it a yank to at least try and cover my unsatisfied pussy, then moved on to my shirt.

I'd purposely chosen this sheer white shirt because it would show my bra through the thin fabric, and because it was an older shirt that fit tightly over my boobs, emphasizing them and my slim figure. Unfortunately half the buttons had come off when I'd pulled it off, forcing me to struggle with the unstretchy material, making a tiny little knot that was barely below my breasts. My boobs were so firm they didn't really need a boost, but the thin white fabric pushed them up anyway, creating a bulging, impossible to miss cleavage that threatened to pop over the restraining fabric.

At the last moment I realized what else was missing and looked back, spotting my bra sitting in the middle of the maze. A quick glance down confirmed that my stiff brown nipples were easily visible through the thin, sheer blouse, but to get the bra would mean wasting far too much time if I wanted to get to those guys and their cameras.

Squinting in the bright sunny entrance I looked around, desperately trying to spot the two voyeurs. The thought that thousands of guys would jack off to the site of a naked me fingering my butthole made my legs tremble weakly. In fear, of course.