Masturbation

I wanted them to imagine her from a distance. I didn’t expect her to organize the scene herself, or my screen-side accomplice to show up with a flashlight in his hand.

At three in the morning, I pretended the blanket was covering my eyes. What I saw in my own living room I should never have seen, and yet I never looked away.

After a decade of bad sex with men, I met Renata, her drawer full of toys, and a finger where no one had gotten before.

I used to dream about men. Now it’s only her: the stranger who touches me under the table and slips into my bed every night, even though my partner sleeps beside me.

I went downstairs wearing the dress Mom had worn on her last vacation. When my father lifted his eyes, I knew something in him had broken forever.

The bathroom mirror faced the bunks. That night, I discovered why my roommate had moved it without telling me.

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 case had been sitting at the back of the wardrobe for years. I put in the first disc without imagining that what I saw 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 put the idea in my head. Days later, I walked through the supermarket with a secret vibrating 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 I no longer looked at her like 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.

I locked the door and turned on the laptop, letting my imagination finish what a stranger had started in the crush of the platform.

I peeked out without thinking and saw the three of them bathing naked in the neighbor’s pool. That same night I realized spying could also be a way of touching.

I only meant to rest on the table for a while. I never imagined I’d end up with my hand inside my clothes, biting my lip so no one in the hallway could hear me.