The recent lockdown was tough. I work in theatre so I was out of work; my parents live in the highlands so it hasn’t been easy to see them. I live alone so I’ve been totally bored out of my brain. And I’m single so I spent every day of the lockdown incredibly and insatiably horny. And trust me when I tell you, when this wee lass is horny, she needs a lot of pleasing.

Before the lockdown started, I bought a full-length mirror for my bedroom. It’s been propped against the wardrobe, across from the foot of my bed, waiting for Da or my big brother to come over and hang it on the wall for me. I woke up on the first morning of the lockdown and I sat up in bed. There was the mirror, opposite me. My reflection had that sort of blurry still-half-asleep look, with big-bad-bed-hair and puffy eyes. But hey, she was sorta pretty, I thought. You know, I’d do her. And, knowing that I had nothing else to do, I thought I’d start the day on a high note. I wiggled down the length of the bed so I was sat on the edge, directly opposite the mirror. “Hello, pretty,” I said to myself.

You have to love yourself. I learned that early on. If you don’t love yourself, you can’t expect anyone else to love you. That’s not to say I think I’m perfect. Far from it. I’m really critical of my appearance; but working in theatre requires confidence, and you have to work with what you have. So I stared at my reflection in the mirror, checking out everything I had.

Wide brown eyes: check. Long (messy, tangled) dark brown hair: check. Nose that is slightly too big for my face (I scrunch my nose up and frown at my reflection): check. Small mouth, full lips, little chin: check, check, check. I look younger than my twenty years; I regularly get ID’d when buying alcohol.

Then my eyes wandered down. I sleep naked, so the girl in the mirror was naked too. Narrow shoulders. Slim arms: there are small, fine hairs on the back of my arms that I hate; I wax them off every few weeks. Tiny breasts with small, sensitive nipples: if I’m horny enough, and it’s the right time of the month, I can bring myself to orgasm from simply caressing my nipples. (I sometimes wish my breasts were bigger, but only sometimes: I like not needing to wear a bra.)

I was sat with my legs pressed modestly together. That was no fun, I thought. “Go on, pretty,” I said to the girl in the mirror, “give us a flash.” The girl grinned mischievously and obliged. Now, with my feet up on the edge of the bed and my knees against my shoulders, my pussy was proudly on display.