What I Did Alone the Night You Didn’t Come

It’s been five weeks since I last saw you, Bruno, and I’m keeping count in my body. I’d gotten used to having you around at least once a week, to that routine of ours of late-afternoon dates, and then all of a sudden my calendar filled up with white nights. You know better than anyone what I am: a woman who needs sex the way she needs air, who thinks about it at work, in the car, in the supermarket line.

And you just kept not showing up. Not coming to take away this ache that has settled between my legs and won’t go away no matter what I do. So tonight I decided to take care of the matter myself. You already know my helpers, that pair of little toys that have accompanied us so many times in our mischief. Today they did the job you’ve had pending for more than a month.

But since I know you love finding out what I do when you’re not here, I’m going to tell you all about it in detail. I want you to read it slowly. I want you to picture every single thing and have your mouth water at not having been here.

You already know what my body is like, you’ve got it memorized. Even though I’m short, I’ve got legs that drive you crazy, wide hips, all that you like to grab when you’ve got me against the wall. And I’ve got this pair of round, heavy breasts that have made you lose track of time on so many afternoons. Tonight they were mine alone.

***

I was hoping you’d come by in the afternoon, so I played at getting ready for you. I didn’t bathe in the morning on purpose; I waited until I was alone at home, around noon, and then I got into the shower with all the calm in the world.

I wanted to surprise you, so I shaved everything off, leaving myself soft and naked just the way you like to find me. And from the very first moment I started to feel myself getting hot. I love that feeling of running my hand over myself and feeling everything smooth, inviting, with nothing in the way. Without even looking for it yet, I was already wet.

When I got out of the water I put lotion all over my body, and then things got out of hand. I lingered longer than I should have on my breasts, massaging them slowly, giving them that squeeze you know how to give. I pinched my nipples and they went hard instantly. Between my legs it was already a delicious mess.

I came out of the bathroom naked and crossed paths with the hallway mirror. I stood there looking at myself for a second and felt a shiver go from the nape of my neck to my heels. What a shame you’re not here to see this, I thought. I chose my underwear carefully, as if I were expecting you: a bra-and-culotte set, one of those short black lace ones, the one you like best.

Only half-dressed, I texted you. I asked if you were coming to see me. You took a while to answer and, when you did, it was to say you couldn’t, that you were going somewhere else. I sprawled on the bed, a little annoyed, phone in hand and lace stuck to my body.

And then I told myself I wasn’t going to waste the night. I had the whole house to myself. I opened the usual drawer and took out my helpers.

***

Since I was already wet, it cost me nothing to start. I stroked my clit slowly, gently, just like you do when you want me to melt little by little before you take it further. I closed my eyes and went straight to our last time together.

I could see you with a clarity that was frightening. Between my legs, giving me that endless oral sex that leaves me trembling. With one hand I caressed my breasts, imagining it was you, that your tongue was there, sucking, biting my nipples while I pulled your hair.

The last time you’d fucked me from behind, both of us on our knees on the bed, and I still have that sensation burned into me. The way you went in slowly and then pulled almost all the way out, only to drive back into me all at once. And that habit of yours of asking me in my ear if I like having you all the way inside. You know what it does to me when you talk to me like that. I become someone else. Your thing, whatever you want.

The vibrator was already doing its work, and I was clenching around it in a way that surprised even me. I felt the orgasm coming closer, still distant but inevitable, and the image that came to me was you lying on your back and me on top, riding you, squeezing you with every spasm while I said things I only ever say when you’ve got me like that.

But it still wouldn’t quite arrive. I was right on that edge where you need one more push, one stronger memory. And then I remembered that night.

***

The night you took me all the way from behind. You started by kissing my neck, that spot you know by heart, and you turned me until I was facedown. You went down slowly, kissing my shoulders, my back, vertebra by vertebra, until you reached my ass. You gave me one slap, just one, perfect, and kept caressing me as if you were apologizing.

Then came your tongue. Wet, working its way between my cheeks with a patience that drove me insane. You reached my tightest opening and kissed it, sucked it, played with it until I could feel it opening on its own. Only then did you slide in a finger, slowly, carefully, while with your other hand you traced my back. It was too much: the shiver of your fingers up top and the delicious pressure below, all at once.

When you had me ready, hot and surrendered, you placed the tip where your tongue had been. You went in millimeter by millimeter, giving me just enough time to get used to you, until you were all the way inside. You started moving with that slowness that is almost torture, and I enjoyed every second of it, feeling you in a place where no one else has ever been.

But the best part came when you lost control. When you started pounding hard and another slap landed on me, harder, while you called me all those things in my ear. You told me what I was, how hot I was, and kept going. I was literally offering you my body, submitted, and I don’t remember ever being more turned on in my life. I loved being yours that way.

***

With that memory in my head, I came. And it wasn’t just any orgasm. I felt everything clench with a life of its own, squeezing the toy that was standing in for you, as if I could hold on to you. I screamed and moaned as much as I wanted, because that’s what I was there for, alone, with no neighbors at that hour and no one to explain myself to.

I didn’t stop there. As soon as I came down from the first one, I went looking for my clit again with my other hand, still shaking, and took myself to a second one almost immediately. Shorter, more frenzied, the kind you pull out of me when you insist even though I tell you I can’t anymore. I let myself fall onto the sheets with my legs open and my heart racing.

And here’s what I really want you to understand, Bruno. The sensations were incredible, I’m not going to lie. But they don’t even come close to sharing this with you. To hearing you breathe, to feeling your weight, to making the orgasm ours and not something I manufacture all by myself in an empty bed.

So consider this an invitation, or rather a warning. I’m dying to see you again. To have you take me the way only you know how and whisper in my ear that thing I love hearing so much. My helpers did their job tonight, but there are things a piece of plastic can’t give me.

I’m waiting for you. And don’t take another five weeks, because the next letter may not be so kind.