I stood naked in front of the mirror, admiring the glossy red lipstick prints that littered my body.
She’d spent so much time kissing and licking my heavy breasts that my nipples and areolas were vividly pink, and the left still shimmered with the gloss from her lipstick.
The kisses she’d rained over the stretch marks on my hips and belly were still dark and nearly flawless. Closing my eyes, I could still feel the sticky press of her lips against my skin and the way she purred in delight each time her tongue tasted my flesh. When she’d splayed her hands over my belly, kneading my flesh, she’d smeared the kisses she’d left there, adding her pink stained fingerprints to the canvas of my body.
My inner thighs were sticky with my own lubrication and her lipstick, creating an abstract painting of my orgasm. I felt my face grow warm as I sat on the edge of the bed, still able to see myself in the full-length mirror, and spread my thick legs wide, and saw the remnants of crimson still steaking my thighs. When she’d left those marks, she’d said next time she’d find a shade that matched the rose of my inner flesh. Of course, that was right before her tongue flicked out stroking my clit, and I stopped thinking about colors at all.
I watched my mirror self, as I ran my fingers between my thighs, between my lips wanting to find a hint of her color, but only found my wetness. I teased my cit, the same way she had with her tongue. My eyes half closed in delight, I watched myself until I once again reached orgasm, whispering her name.
She’d offered to take off her lipstick, but I’d declined, wanting to the evidence of her on my flesh.