Desire

I’d been turned on for days with not a single minute alone. That Friday I booked a room, took the vibrator out of the box, and decided the night was mine.

I was nineteen and had never dared to explore myself. That afternoon, with the house silent, I decided to imitate what I saw on the screen.

His hug sent a rush of heat through my whole body that I couldn’t explain. I only knew that, as soon as I was alone, I’d have to finish what he had started.

She took the plush toy down from the top shelf, picked the right video, and prepared for a session no one else would ever know about.

At sixty-four, I thought that part of me was dead forever. One phone call and a carrot were enough to prove how wrong I was.

By day, I seemed like the most innocent of all. By night, behind a closed door, I discovered a version of myself no one would ever have imagined.

Half an hour ago I opened my email with my legs already restless. I wanted to know how many had jerked off thinking about me. There were more than I expected.

I left them by the washing machine like just another garment, but the moment I brought them to my nose I knew that woman had planned everything from the start.

I asked my friend to come with me to do something I’d been imagining for years: letting strangers see me. I had no idea how much I would enjoy it.

I had never taken my blouse off outdoors. My pulse was racing and my hands were trembling, but something in me needed to know what it felt like for a stranger to be able to look at me.

I’ve been sleeping alone for months. But when insomnia hits, I end up with her on top of me again, moaning my name like before everything fell apart.

In front of the screen, with a cloth between my teeth so I wouldn’t scream, I obeyed every order from a man whose face I never saw. And I’d do it again.

That morning there was no one at home to hear me. Only the mirror, my heels, and the voice of a man living inside my head.

It all started with a picture on my phone. Ten days later I can’t get out of bed without thinking about when I’ll get to touch myself again.

I adore the nap when I’m alone at home. Today the chill of the storm raised my skin, and without realizing it, all I could think about was the way you’d look at me.

It’s raining, no one’s home, and the series I put on to fall asleep turned into something else. Then I remembered where I kept my red toy.

He lived right across from me and had never looked at me twice. That afternoon I decided that was going to change, even if I had to cross the hallway without a bra.

It was ten in the morning, I was alone at home, and I could only think about his hands. Today, at last, we’d be alone, and I needed to calm what he’d awakened in me.

The son of a bitch had used her own body as inspiration, and now she was trembling in front of the screen, not knowing whether what she felt was anger or desire.

I kept it in my bag because I was in a hurry, but that afternoon I took it out for another reason: I was alone, bored, and way too horny to hold back.