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Self-Seduction: An Autosexual Romance
By Chris Villka
The lights low, his glistening contours barely visible in the mirror. I step closer. So does he.
My eyes slowly adjust to the near dark, and I see me, staring back. Blue green eyes drinking me in, a closed circuit of self lust. I step closer. Six feet of yoga teacher, six feet of swimmer, six feet of dirty mind wrapped in a perfect body. I tilt my head. A shaft of light slashes across a sculpted cheekbone. A lock of hair falls across his face. I turn my body. Muscled torso, honeyed shoulders, tight curve of peachy bottom. A tingle surges through my body, and probably his as well. I step closer. My fingertips touch the glass. My lover, trapped over there. I study his contours, every edible inch, my impossible twin. I lean in , lips parted, eyes open, and we kiss, deep and hard.
My lips break away from the fogged glass. And I am gazing back at my astounded lover. His lips full, his eyes hungry. It's as if I've violated myself. But we yield to it. There is an electric charge in the air. As if the rest of the world stopped mattering. How could this have happened? All these years of life, of searching, and I finally find the one. The perfect mate. The dream lover. And he's right in front of me, right inside of me. As my eyes travel longingly along his smooth chest, down his taut stomach to his delectable hipbones, my mind races. Is this what love feels like? This flutter one should feel for someone else? Am I sick? Our eyes meet, and all those silly concerns evaporate as I slam up against the mirror hard, arms akimbo, torso grinding, face mashing. The wrongness of it has only ignited the embers of passion. In between gasps, I look at my startled expression, as my hips move to their own music. Where is this all going?
Our hearts beat in unison. He's my Valentine. Always was. I remember biting and kissing my arm in grade school. Sneaking into the locker room in high school when no one was around, and quietly fucking my slender self in front of the mirror. The love affair was in full bloom in college, watching others date and mate, while I remained true to the one within. But I always felt there was another out there. this was just a phase. Eventually the right one would come along. I was wrong. Now, here I am, staring straight into my iridescent eyes, hard and slippery, undulating flush against my Gemini twin.
I bite my lip seductively, light glinting off my collarbone. I slam up against the wall mirror, realizing this bitter sweet truth, letting out a gasp of astonished pleasure. Oh, to reach through the glass and pull him out. And tumble warm flesh on flesh, keeping the neighbors awake with our screams. To declare our love for each other. But alas, he is trapped, behind the glass.
It was your average party. The usual industry static. Everybody with a story to tell, but no one to listen. Women and men were dressed up to attract a mate. And me. I saw right through them all - to the slender boy in the tight crimson shirt and the stunning figure. His hair fell playfully across his sculpted face, and he looked back at me, hungrily, from the giant mirror in the living room. We mentally undressed each other right there on the spot. The crowd seemed to dissolve away, as I gazed upon myself , gulping back my desire. I stepped closer to him. We smiled.
I got home, eager to lock the door behind me and rip my clothes off. Still tipsy from the martinis, I ran into my bedroom, my pants still tangled on my ankle. Every joint, every muscle, every bone ached with desire for its counterpart. All night I had longed to get home and join with my reflection, in my room, to do to him whatever I pleased. As much as I could to a glass imprisoned angel twin. But!!! The mirror was empty! I stared astonished, back at the empty bedroom behind me. My angel twin. He had left me. My heart sank. But how could a mirror be empty? Just as I was pondering this break in logic, I felt a light caress on my shoulder blade. I spun around, and there he was. There me was.
Goosebumps rose up along my spine as I turned around and beheld me. Every tendon perfectly formed, every crevice made to order. He smiled devilishly at me. My heart skipped a beat. Even his tattoo was exactly where mine was, a black spider inked into his upper right thigh. I reached out and ran my fingers along his tan shoulder. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. I traced the line of his neck, up to his jawline. He threw his head back. I noticed the muscles in his stomach tighten. Then my angel twin opened his eyes. He looked directly into mine. Icy blue, with a green center. There was hardly time to read his gaze before his lips were on mine. Our mouths crushed together, as we released identical moans. He tasted wonderful. Sweet, like me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me hard against him. Oh beautiful warm flesh and bone. My tongue exploring his mouth. His hand teasing down to my tailbone, I arch. Words were not spoken. Me and myself knew exactly where to touch, trace, nibble. The kiss lasted a full minute. We drank each other in. My hardness pushed against his hardness. His mouth upon my nipple. We slowly started to writhe in a slippery sweaty twin dance. Our taut torsos gyrating in ecstatic rhythm. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. He groaned, harder than ever. My fingers tickled his hipbone and traced over to his swollen self. It was enormous, and it was meant for no one but me. I dropped to my knees.
The whole world disappears around me... and me. My fingers claw the back of his steel smooth thighs as he invades my mouth. My forehead is flush against his stomach, I smell his sweet intoxicating aroma. Untamed music spins out of space above us as my throat yields to his passion. He gasps my name, pulling my hair. His bottom clenches around my cloying fingers. Twenty five years of waiting, and now I am drinking from my own fountain.
The great architecture of him seems to buckle as I pull him deeper into me, the sweat on his glistening abdomen melding with the sweat in my hair. I gaze at his perfect navel as he begins to shudder. He clutches my scalp and I nearly choke on him. And then a great convulsion, and I'm filled with my own sweet slippery sticky essence. His knees give way, and we tumble onto the floor, asplash in our love. The twingasm binds us in all its fury. We lock eyes, knowing and understanding and craving all that we see in each other. Drenched in our fluids, we cradle each other, as one. The next morning, we wake up together, entwined, and kiss. It's not a dream.