Masturbation

I tied his wrists so I could take charge for the first time, but as he obeyed, I discovered that the real control wasn't mine.

He sat beside me when the lights went out, and before midnight I was already imagining his hand sliding up beneath my dress.

She came seeking help for her anxiety and ended up trembling before a man who seemed to read her body better than her mind.

We had spent years teasing him from the sand, but that afternoon my wife spread her legs wider, and I knew he wouldn’t be staying just to watch.

First there were his eyes from the building across the street; then, his bulge rubbing against me as we danced in my living room.

I turned the toy on random before leaving the office. Twenty floors, a subway ride, and a park stood between me and home. I hadn’t calculated how much I could take.

First they filmed me masturbating; then my mother discovered that the sin in that house wasn’t desire, but who pretended not to have it.

That hard bulge on the train didn’t just touch my ass; it opened a door I’ve never been able to close.

When he answered the video call from his office, I was already naked in the hotel—and had another man waiting off-camera.

The moans through the wall left me dripping, so I decided to wake my man in the dirtiest way I knew.

Camila was waiting for me with a party for thirty close friends. What I didn’t expect was finding a blonde in the shower or ending the night between two strangers.

In the early hours, I felt her return to bed, breathing hard. When I turned around, I saw her touching herself beneath the sheet, thinking I was asleep.

He sat beside me when the theater was half empty, and within minutes my body had already said yes before my mind could.

I lowered the controller and held my breath: on the other side of the wall, her moans were rising, and my hand was already inside my pants.

I accepted his dinner invitation out of necessity, but when he parked in the darkness, I knew he didn’t want to touch me—he wanted to watch me lose my inhibitions.

From the shadows of the patio, I watched them kiss in the car, and when he opened his pants, I couldn’t stop touching myself.

I closed the door, put on my shortest dress, and decided to obey every rule that aroused me—even if I ended up trembling alone on the sofa.

I heard the moans as I passed through the hall. The door was ajar, and I couldn’t look away. Nor could I stay still.

Every hour I obeyed the same order in the bathroom, and with each repetition my body demanded something dirtier and more intense.

The air conditioning was broken, and the sweat was showing through my blouse. When I looked up, he was already staring at me in the rearview mirror.