My Confession: The Night I Exposed Myself to Strangers

There are nights when the body won’t listen to reason. Mine started like this: lying in bed, with the glow of the monitor reflected on the ceiling and a heat that had been building for hours without asking my permission.

I’d gotten back from the gym around nine, had eaten very little, and slipped between the sheets without thinking too much about it. But the moment I turned off the lamp, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I know my body well enough to know when there’s no way to fool it.

I started as always, opening one of those saved pages. Videos where women let themselves get fucked without bothering to hide it, where they suck huge cocks all the way down, where they moan with their throats open. I watched with one hand inside my shorts, the other pressing a nipple through my T-shirt. I rolled my hips in circles, slowly, letting the wetness grow.

It didn’t take long to reach the first orgasm. It was one of those quick ones, almost just a warm-up, the kind you already know won’t put anything out. When I finished, I was even more aroused than before. My clit was throbbing like a separate heart, my pussy swollen, my legs restless. I needed more.

I wanted to be finger-fucked, I wanted things done to me. Most of all, I wanted someone to see me.

***

I switched tabs and went into X. It had been months since I’d opened that secondary account, the one I only use to look at horny profiles and forward myself things. That night I wanted more than to look.

I searched for accounts of men whose profile photo was just a cock. The kind who don’t even bother pretending, who show it hard, sweaty, freshly pulled out of their pants. I chose five at random and sent them all the same message.

“Hi, I saw your profile and it turns me on that a stranger can see my pussy and tell me what he thinks.”

I hit send on all five. Then I sat staring at the screen with my heart in my mouth, waiting for a green light, a notification, anything. Nothing came. I imagine they had messages turned off, or thought I was a bot, or were asleep like normal people at two in the morning. It didn’t matter. I’d gotten even hornier just from pressing the button.

Then I remembered an adult site where I had an old account, abandoned for a year. I logged in, changed the profile picture to one of myself. One where you can see my pussy from below, spread open with two fingers. No face. Just that.

In less than five minutes the comments started rolling in.

“I want you to fuck me, mommy.” “Let me be your slut.” “What a delicious cock I’d shove in there, daddy.” “I’d open you up with my teeth.” “Send me a private message and I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

I kept reading and replying to each one with my finger on my clit. Any message would do, any stupidity. The feeling was knowing I was being watched, knowing I was being desired by men I didn’t know and would never know. The promise of being a stranger to all of them. I got wet again.

I started following a few of them, the ones who seemed most persistent. One followed me back almost instantly. In his profile he had two videos of himself jerking off. Thick cock, dark skin, the head always shiny. That was enough.

I opened a direct chat.

***

—Hi —I wrote.

—Hi, beautiful —he replied a second later.

I sent him a short video. Twenty seconds of me running two fingers over my clit, spreading my lips, letting the flash show how soaked I was.

—Oh, mommy. I was waiting for you —he wrote.

—You like it? —I asked.

—I love it. I’d suck that pussy of yours until you were shaking. Want to see mine?

—Yes, please.

It took a couple of minutes. Then the photo arrived. His cock barely fit inside the frame, his left hand gripping the base. It was big, thick, with a pronounced vein running over the top. Exactly the kind of picture I needed at that moment.

—I wish you’d fuck me raw, daddy —I answered—. Have it slide inside and cum all the way to the back.

—Don’t tell me that, I’m about to blow —he wrote.

I was already about to blow. I propped the phone against the pillow, spread my legs, and went back to what I’d done in the video. Slowly, massaging my lips, letting my fingers fill with the fluid that wouldn’t stop coming out. I slid two in all the way and twisted them as if another hand were moving them. I imagined it was him, imagined it was anyone. I imagined a room full of men watching me.

The second orgasm caught me with my fingers inside and my eyes closed. It came fast and deeper than the first, but when it was over, the heat was still there intact. That night my body refused to give in.

***

I knew I needed something thicker. I don’t have dildos, never have. I always say I’m going to buy one and never do. That night I seriously regretted not having done it.

I looked around. On the nightstand was the deodorant, the big stick one, the one they give me at work every Christmas. I grabbed it, took off the cap, and just looked at it. The shape was convenient, not too long. I went downstairs barefoot, without turning on any lights. In the cupboard I have a small glass bottle, one of those syrup bottles, empty and clean. I took it and ran back to the bedroom.

I had a strawberry-flavored lubricant I’d ordered out of curiosity and barely used. I soaked the bottle in lube until it was dripping, did the same with the deodorant. I lay on my back with two pillows under my hips and started pushing the bottle into my ass.

The first time the head went through, I jolted. It was wider than I expected. But the lubricant did its job and the bottle went in centimeter by centimeter, slowly, while I let the air out in short gasps. Once it was inside, I lifted my hips and moved it a little. It felt strange and delicious at the same time. A pressure I’d never had before.

Then I grabbed the deodorant, pressed it against my pussy, and pushed. It went in easily, as if it had been waiting for it. I left both things inside, still, and stared at the ceiling trying not to cum yet. I wanted to stretch it out. I wanted it to last.

***

I went back to the phone. Joaco, that was what he called himself, was still writing.

—You still there, mommy? Tell me what you’re doing.

—I’ve got two things inside me —I answered—. One in my pussy, one in my ass.

—Fuck. I’m about to cum just from reading that.

I didn’t answer again. I left the phone face down on the bed and grabbed the vibrator, the small one I do have, the one a friend gave me at a bachelorette party and that I’m fond of. I turned it on to medium speed and pressed it straight against my clit.

And then the good part started.

***

I started fantasizing without restraint. My head took off on its own. I thought about Mateo, a coworker I’ve been staring at for months every time he sits across from me in the meeting room. Big hands, long fingers, a silver ring on his pinky. I’ve always been curious about how a man fucks with those hands. That night I knew exactly how I pictured it. I imagined him grabbing me by the throat while he shoved his cock all the way in and whispered things in my ear that aren’t said in the office.

From Mateo I jumped to another fantasy. I imagined paying a taxi fare with my body. Climbing into the front seat, unzipping his pants at a red light, letting him fuck me against the hood on an empty street. I imagined him with the face of the last taxi driver who’d driven me home: a quiet, older man who looked at me in the rearview mirror with a calm that had undone me.

From there I moved on to a gangbang. Three, four, five men surrounding me in some random room. Me on all fours, letting myself be used, with one cock in my mouth, another in my pussy, and hands everywhere squeezing my nipples. Men who didn’t know each other, who only happened to be there to empty themselves inside me.

From the men I went to a woman. A woman eating my pussy on a narrow bed, tongue inside, while I ate hers the other way around. Then rubbing clit against clit until we both came at once.

From the woman I went back to the strangers in the chat. To all the ones who at that moment were looking at my profile picture. I imagined each one of them jacking off to my pussy on the screen. I imagined how many there were. Ten, twenty, fifty. The idea of so many men stroking themselves for me made me squeeze my thighs around the vibrator.

And Mateo appeared again. Mateo and me in the office bathroom, the lock turned, him lifting my skirt against the mirror.

***

I changed positions. I got on my knees on the floor, propped up on my elbows on the mattress, so the weight of my body would help keep the bottle and the deodorant inside without them moving. I started bouncing slowly on both of them, with the vibrator wedged between my clit and the edge of the bed.

I touched my nipples with my free hand, pinched them hard, twisted them as if they belonged to someone else. I imagined it was Mateo biting them. I imagined mouths pressed to both at once. I imagined a stranger sucking them while a man fucked me from behind.

I started panting with my mouth open, not holding the sound back. I live alone, in an interior apartment. Nobody hears me. Nobody was going to hear me.

But then I thought they would. I thought about opening the living room window, turning on the light, pressing myself against the glass and letting the neighbors in the building across from me see me masturbating. I imagined some random man, five floors away, getting up to pour himself water and finding that. I imagined he’d stare, pull down his pants, and jerk off without looking away.

That image took me to the edge.

***

I turned the vibrator up. Two notches higher. I started moving on the bottle and the deodorant more forcefully, not caring anymore if the sound of my body against the bed could be heard all through the room. I squeezed my nipples until it hurt. I closed my eyes. All the images came back at once: Mateo, the taxi driver, the strangers in the chat, the woman, the neighbors, the room full of men.

I came with a cry.

It was one of those orgasms you remember for weeks. My legs were trembling so hard I had to let myself fall forward onto the bed. I felt something running down my thighs, warm, much more liquid than normal, and then I heard the sound of it dripping onto the floor. I had soaked the parquet. I had soaked the sheets. I was soaked through.

I stayed like that for a while, face buried in the mattress, both things still inside, the vibrator buzzing against my clit until I had to move it away because I couldn’t take it anymore.

***

It took me fifteen minutes to get up. I carefully pulled the deodorant out, then the bottle. I left everything on the bathroom floor, in the dark. I didn’t want to look at it. I’d deal with it tomorrow.

When I got back to bed I looked at my phone. Joaco had kept writing. Twenty messages in a row. The last one said: “You still alive? I just came twice.”

I sent him an emoji and blocked the account. I closed the page, closed the browser, turned off the screen. I didn’t want to know anything else about him, or the others, or the comments on the photo. Tomorrow I’d delete the whole account.

I lay there on my back, still without sheets, body exhausted and pussy throbbing. I thought about Mateo. I thought about how I was going to look at him on Monday without anything giving me away. I thought that I’d probably look at him exactly the same and he’d never suspect a thing.

I fell asleep like that, with that thought in my head, and with the deodorant still smelling like strawberry on the bathroom floor.