Masturbation

I’d spent the whole morning in my robe, in front of the computer, until something moved behind the window of the block across the way and I knew that day would be different.

I had been lying in my hammock for weeks, rubbing myself with oil and closing my eyes, until one afternoon I felt someone watching me through the cypresses.

The bathroom mirror was directly across from the bunk beds. That night I found out why my roommate had moved it without saying a word.

In front of the mirror, with the dim light and the music low, I discovered that the best company that night was my own: my hands, my vibrator, and a desire that kept growing.

The box had been in the back of the wardrobe for years. I put on the first disc, never imagining what I would see that afternoon would stay with me forever.

The box had been closed at the back of the wardrobe for months. I opened it out of curiosity and, an hour later, I had my phone recording everything my body could feel.

I promised myself I wouldn’t give up until I made it happen. What I didn’t know was how long my body would take to give me what I’d been begging it for all night.

I lay down naked thinking I only wanted to sleep. Three hours later, I was still discovering how much pleasure I could give myself.

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.

I closed the bathroom door, turned on the tap, and promised myself I’d be quick. Lie. That night I discovered how far I was willing to go with myself.

We had grown up sleeping in adjoining rooms, until one night a sound on the other side of the wall made me understand that I no longer saw her as a sister.

I never liked stuffed animals as gifts. Until the weekend I was home alone and realized what the one my ex left me was really for.