Desire

I waited for the house to go silent so I could turn off the light, open the drawer, and find out how far I could go on my own.

I asked my husband for a photo of himself and got one of another man: a perfect stranger. That night I had no idea how far that image would take me in my sleep.

I hadn’t written to him in a year. That afternoon I opened the email, typed his name, and before I thought it through, I was already telling him exactly what I wanted him to do to me.

There was still more than an hour to go, the seat next to me was empty, and that tingling between my legs was the only thing on my mind.

I promised myself I’d never miss him again. So why is my hand between my legs and his name stuck in my throat tonight?

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 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 brought down the stuffed animal from the highest shelf, chose 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 asked my friend to help me fulfill a fantasy I’d had for years: letting strangers watch me. I never expected how much I’d 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 tightens its grip, I have her on top of me again, moaning my name like before everything broke.

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.