morgan and her demon

Morgan opened her closet door. She grabbed one of the hangars, with a semi-transparent, blood red nightgown hanging from it. She laid it on her bed and began to unbutton her blouse. The tight, white tank top that was now revealed shone a cute skull and did not inhibit her glorious form. She then unbuttoned and removed her pants to show cute, striped, red and black panties. She glanced over toward her vanity mirror and smiled faintly.

Running her hands up over her voluptuous curves she removed her glasses. They were small angular frames that made her look intelligent, but without them she gained an allure. She placed them on her nightstand and moved her hands to her hair. Another feature expertly executed to make her appear intelligent. She disliked it. Having to make her look smarter to be accepted without being a sex object. And she let it down. It felt good. It was like a release from the strain of her tedious workday.

She looked in the mirror again; this time she liked what she saw. It was more her. She was free, her hair was slightly past her shoulders, and tinted a deep burgundy. She played with her curves, almost dancing for herself in the mirror. She turned to her nightstand and looked at the clock, and realizing how late it was, picked up the nightgown and walked out.

She opened the door to the bathroom and hung up her gown. She turned on the shower and started tugging on her top. Slipping it off the twinkle of her nipple ring reflected in the mirror catches her eye. She admires it hanging off of her dark nipple; which is a stark contrast to her light skin. Her breasts are immaculate, so much so, she thinks, that it is amazing to think they re real. And it is insane that there isn’t a man, or woman for that matter, to help her admire them.

She slides her panties down her long legs slowly, revealing another piercing. One that she is proud to not have to remove for work. The small part of her, that stays as she wants it. Fully nude she turns to the mirror. Oh how she wishes everyone she worked with were more than tools of the corporate monster. She really felt alone. And with that she turned and got in the shower.

The water ran exquisitely over her magnificent form, cleansing the idiocy of the office from her body. She imagined someone for herself. First, a man, and then a woman, but she couldn’t make up her mind. So she decided anyone would be better than what she had now. And although these were her thoughts, to not be heard by others, there was one who listened. Still thinking in regards she stepped from the shower, dripping wet she refrained from grabbing a towel to stare into the mirror. She was mesmerized by her own glistening image.

And little did she know, the listener was watching as well. She slid her hand down to her crotch and started rubbing. She breathed heavily still pleading in her own thoughts for someone. And