Desire

Whenever the house was empty, I closed the door to their bedroom, opened her secret drawer, and lost myself smelling, sucking, and moaning alone.

I switched on the nightstand lamp, lifted my camisole, and started playing with my nipples while thinking of him. I never imagined how it would end.

I agreed to let him drive me home after the party, but when he parked in the darkness, I realized that night was going to put me to the test.

I locked the door, left the lube on the nightstand, and finally decided to try what had secretly aroused me for years.

All it took was smelling him again to know I wouldn’t leave that room the same woman who had walked in.

I saw her walking at sunset, and when she spoke to me, I knew that night would be unlike any other in my life.

I asked him to fix a window after class, but we both knew it wasn’t only wood that was about to give way.

I’d had three whiskeys and no reason to go home when the amber-eyed redhead asked me to insure her night.

I masturbated in the shower thinking about his return, but I never imagined what he’d do to me once we closed the hotel-room door.

Kneeling in front of the sofa with the phone aimed at me, I stopped feeling ashamed when I understood why he wanted to remember my mouth.

After lunch, she looked at me over her coffee, and I knew that afternoon I wouldn’t be going for a run—I’d be fucking a stranger.

I went down to the parking garage with trembling legs, still sweaty, unaware that afternoon would end my fear of his desire.

I went to watch a movie with my best friend and his girlfriend, but when he stepped out for a moment, she cornered me and everything changed.

He closed the door trembling, but when I put him against the wall I understood he hadn't come to apologize: he'd come to be truly punished.

I entered the hammam holding my husband’s hand and came out trembling, soaked, and with an image in my head that still turns me on.

After coming several times, my pussy was still throbbing with one fixed idea: stop touching myself alone and ask her to come for me.

I left the waxing table burning, stood up by the app, and so horny that I ended up calling the person I least should have.

When she came home with tousled hair and a smile that wasn’t meant for me, I knew our kitchen pact had passed the point of no return.

Every time we swore we'd end it, one look was enough to leave us locked away again, sweating and fucking as if we hated each other.

I went back to the garage with a flimsy excuse and a skirt that was too short; they immediately understood I wasn’t there for the car.