Lingerie

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 from the screen, and I obeyed: opening the window, dropping my clothes, and letting those men watch me shamelessly.

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 show I put on to fall asleep turns into something else. Then I remember where I keep 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 half open, turned off the light, and waited to hear her footsteps in the hallway before I started.

I’d been secretly wearing lingerie for years. That week, away from home, I decided to find out what it really felt like with a stranger in 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.

There was no one home, no plans, and no excuse. Just me, the sofa facing the window, and the dangerous idea of leaving everything on display.

I thought I was alone at home. I left the bathroom door open, closed my eyes, and said her name out loud, never imagining she’d already come back.

The lock thrown, the light off, and one single finger enough to take me where no boy my age ever knew how to lead me.

She had never masturbated at work. But that morning, with her phone full of pictures of her neighbor and the door unlocked, she discovered how much risk turned her on.

I stripped off because of the heat, closed my eyes, and suddenly there she was, in black lace lingerie, straddling me in my empty bed.

It’s been five weeks since you showed up, and tonight, with the house all to myself, I decided I wasn’t going to wait any longer to finish what you left half-done.