Exhibitionism

It was two in the morning when a video planted the idea in my head. Days later I was walking through the supermarket with a secret buzzing between my legs.

When her friend was asleep on the sofa, Vera challenged me to show myself and touch myself for her. I couldn’t refuse.

I get home, strip naked on the couch, and lose count. It’s my routine, my secret, the only thing I truly need at the end of the day.

I was alone, the heat was unbearable, and lukewarm water was running over my skin. Then I got an idea I’d been imagining for months and had never had the nerve to try.

I turned on the vibrator, opened the bingo game and promised myself a rule for every ball. What happened next took me weeks to tell anyone.

I never thought watching a stranger touch herself at dawn would ignite such a strong desire in me that I’d end up in a park that same night, losing all shame.

Three mornings a week she cleaned the corridor right on the other side of my desk. And three mornings a week I learned not to look away from the glass.

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’d been showing myself to her on camera for weeks. That night, with a single whispered sentence, she asked me for something that forever changed what I thought I wanted.

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 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.