Desire

It’s raining, no one’s home, and the show I put on to fall asleep turns into something else. Then I remember where I keep 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’d stuffed it in my purse in a hurry, but that afternoon I took it out for another reason: I was alone, bored, and far too horny to hold back.

I’d spent the whole day with my underwear damp just thinking about what was waiting for me at home. The box was still closed on the bed, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

She thought about him all day. Now, under the sheets and with rain tapping at the glass, her hand begins to explore what her imagination had already promised.

I never had privacy for anything. That afternoon, on an empty bench with my skirt hiked up, I understood I could finally do exactly as I pleased.

No one knows what I do in the dark, with the door shut and the bottom drawer open. That night I decided, for the first time, to leave proof of it all.

I knew the exact time she’d be back. I left the door half open, turned off the light, and waited to hear her footsteps in the hallway before I started.

I stepped into the shower to wash away the day’s exhaustion and ended up sitting on the floor, the stream between my legs, whispering your name.

I never wanted to go on camera. Until one night, curiosity won out and a faceless user asked to be alone with me.

That afternoon I wanted something different, something to pull me out of boredom. I found a stranger willing to watch while I let myself be watched.

I had been walking for half an hour when the heat between my legs stopped being a thought and became urgency. The concrete wall was cold; I was burning.

He doesn’t know that when he closes his chat window, I turn off the light and let my hands do what his hands could never do to me from so far away.

The rain was hitting the window and the house was silent. I had the whole afternoon to myself, and for the first time I decided to stop imagining it and feel it for real.

She imagined herself in the dark, with her robe open and unknown hands moving over her without asking permission. And for the first time, she didn’t want them to stop.

I had never seen her, I didn’t know her name, but that night her sentences touched me deeper than anyone had touched me in years. And I let them.

I had finished all my work, no one was left on the floor, and the heat had me restless. That afternoon I decided to play with fire on the desk.

I had never dared watch myself while I touched myself. That afternoon I put my phone in front of the bed, took a deep breath, and learned something new about my own desire.