Lingerie

When he opened the bag, he found a burgundy bra and a note: “Get familiar with the sensations. Tomorrow we begin in earnest.” There was no turning back.

I rarely send photos: it’s dangerous. But that boy gave me confidence, and between black stockings and midnight messages I became the star of his hottest fantasy.

That night I put on the skirt, tights, and heels I kept hidden in the wardrobe. I had no idea someone across the hall had been watching.

I shaved everything off and wore stockings and garters in secret. I never imagined a company convention would end with me surrendering to another man.

Tied to her sofa, in a princess dress and with my face made up, I heard someone knock at the door. And I understood that night I would stop being only hers.

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.

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.

He asked me from the screen and I obeyed: open the window, let the clothes fall, and let those men watch me without shame.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 ajar, turned off the light, and waited to hear her footsteps in the hallway before starting.

I switch off the lamp, close my eyes, and let her voice on the other side of the wall set the rhythm of my hand. She’s not mine anymore, but I still come thinking of her.

I had been wearing lingerie in secret for years. That week, far from home, I decided to find out what it felt like to do it for real, in a stranger’s bed.

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 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.