Chapter 20 Brianna
Brianna
I am beautiful in any body
I’m doing it. I’m standing in front of the mirror, fully nude and just admiring myself, waiting for a panic attack that never comes. I tilt my head to left and right as my hands explore my body. I trace my ample curves and focus on changing the narrative in my mind.
I am worth more than my looks. I am beautiful in any body. I am worthy of all forms of love. I will learn to love and embrace the body I’m in.
I turn to the side and admire my ass. Damn.
Okay, my ass is amazing. It’s round and full, and I now see Asher’s obsession.
I turn to face the mirror again and trace intricate patterns woven across my thighs and stomach and force myself to accept them.
Fake it ‘til you make it, so I’m going to start making myself love them.
They are just marks on my body. They tell the story of my trauma and what I’m still working through.
I love myself and all the marks on my skin. They don’t define who I am. Only I do that.
My hands toy with my generous breasts. Like my ass, they are voluptuous, and I know I should be proud of them.
Women pay lots of money to get what I have naturally.
I pinch my nipples with my forefingers and let my head roll back as pleasure pulses throughout my body.
I think of Asher and everything we did in that dressing room, and my clit throbs.
Who knew admiring myself in the mirror would be so arousing? I hurriedly rush to my bed when an idea strikes. I grab my tripod and set it up so that it can frame the part of me I’ll be playing with. I switch the mode to video and grab the remote before laying on my bed.
I get myself in a comfortable position before pressing record. My legs spread as wide as they can and my hand slips between my legs. My finger slips inside my pussy, and I can feel how wet I am. I focus on the sensation of pumping my finger in and out, curling it against my inner walls.
“This is what you do to me, Asher. You’ve given a part of myself back.
The part who enjoys sex again. You’ve turned me into a horny puddle all the time, and I want you to see what you do to me.
” My words come out breathless when I pinch my clit and my hips buck in response.
I’m full on panting like a cat in heat now, my fingers swirling around my clit in slow, circular motions.
My cunt is throbbing with arousal, and I need to slow it down.
“You make me feel sexy, beautiful. I feel worthy to be loved and to be worshiped. This is all because you made me look in the mirror. I’m fucking myself because I liked what I saw in the mirror.
I’m a knockout, and my curves are to be celebrated and not shamed.
You took me shopping and helped me own who I am.
You brought me my comfort snack knowing I would be nervous about driving.
You held my hand the entire drive. I like how you look at me.
I like how you fuck me. I like how you understand me.
You never ask me to change, and I can never find the words to say. So let me just do this instead.”
I pinch my clit between my fingers before circling it with my thumb. I feel heat pooling at the base of my spine and my breathing picks up. My thumb works overtime as my orgasm begins to build.
“Fuck. Asher. Asher. Asher. You make me do this. You’ve ruined me for every other man. Oh my God, ASHER!” I scream his name as I come harder than I have by myself in a long time.
I mean, this is the first time I’ve masturbated in months.
The thought of touching myself made me feel disgusted.
I never thought the body I have now should be celebrated.
Now? I plan to flaunt what I have—even if I’m not one hundred percent loving myself fully.
I’m a lot further than I was months ago, so I’ll take it.
My body is trembling as it comes down from my mind-blowing orgasm.
I remove my finger from my pussy, and get up close to the camera before bringing my finger into my mouth and cleaning myself off.
I swirl my tongue around my finger, and a soft moan escapes my lips.
I stare into the camera before turning it off.
Before I lose my confidence, I pull up Asher’s number, attach the video, and hit send.
About thirty minutes later, I get a text from Asher.
Asher: *image*
It’s a picture of Asher gripping his cock, a drop of pre-cum glistening at his tip. My mouth waters and visions of his cock in my mouth have me squirming on the spot.
Asher: Damn, baby, that was so fucking hot. Look at my girl owning her hotness. Sexy as fuck, bear.
Asher: Is this what you wanted? Me pumping my cock, wishing it was your mouth instead?
My entire body heats and my clit begins to throb.
Me: Well, I invited you inside, but you declined. So, I guess it’s just you and your hand tonight.
Asher: Fuck me. I’m really regretting that decision right now.
Me: * laughing emoji* *kissy face emoji*
Asher: Oh it’s funny, huh?
Me: …maybe
Asher: I wonder if it'll be that funny when I’m shoving my cock so far down your throat you’ll choke.
Me: ...
Asher: What, no smart remark? I’m disappointed, bear. But I’m so goddamn proud of you, baby. Seeing you learn to accept your body is hot as fuck.
Me: You make me feel sexy.
Asher: No, you are sexy all on your own. Now I need to take care of this situation you put me in. But Bri?
Me: Yeah?
Asher: Just know it’ll be your name that I’m yelling. And as I’m fucking my fist, I’m thinking of how it feels to call you mine. Night, Bri.
His.
The more I think about it, the more appealing it sounds. I think about sharing my life, my fears, my vulnerabilities with anyone else, and it feels wrong.
His.
I realize I want nothing more than to be his person. I put falling in love on my list, but maybe I need to make an amendment to that item. I don’t want to fall in love with anyone but Asher Larson. Hell, I’m probably already halfway there.