Masturbation

I’d been turned on for days with not a single minute alone. That Friday I booked a room, took the vibrator out of the box, and decided the night was mine.

When the scarf covered my eyes I thought it was an innocent game. It wasn’t. Mariela had other plans, and I didn’t want her to stop.

Every morning is the same: I open my eyes with my body on fire and the bed in disarray, knowing no pillow can soothe what I truly crave.

What started as a silly afternoon on his sofa ended with me kneeling between his legs, learning that some favors can’t be undone.

We started talking by messages. We ended up seeing each other naked under the same red moon, each in our own city, each with the other’s breath on the screen.

I stopped in the hallway with my hand in the air. The sighs coming from my sister’s room wouldn’t let me knock or turn back.

I was sixteen, the house was silent, and a word had sat in the margin of my notebook for months. That night, at last, I locked the door.

I rarely send photos: it’s dangerous. But that boy made me feel safe, and between black stockings and midnight messages I became the star of his best fantasy.

I thought I’d put her in her place. That afternoon, as I came out of the bathroom, I heard a zipper coming down behind the half-open office door.

I never thought a game scene would ignite something between us, or that by that same afternoon I’d have his taste in my mouth and his name looping in my head.

I went downstairs for water at midnight and found her awake, ready to give my wife the one lesson I had never managed to teach her.

I was nineteen and had never dared explore myself. That afternoon, with the house silent, I decided to imitate what I saw on the screen.

His hug sent a rush of heat through my whole body that I couldn’t explain. I only knew that, as soon as I was alone, I’d have to finish what he had started.

She brought down the stuffed animal from the highest shelf, chose the right video, and prepared for a session no one else would ever know about.

At sixty-four, I thought that part of me was dead forever. One phone call and a carrot were enough to prove how wrong I was.

I’d spent weeks showing myself to her on camera. That night, with one whispered sentence, she asked me for something that changed forever what I thought I wanted.

I never saw them. I only heard every word, every blow of the headboard against the wall, and suddenly their pleasure was mine too.

By day, I seemed like the most innocent of all. By night, behind a closed door, I discovered a version of myself no one would ever have imagined.

When I opened the door to breathe the wet air, someone jumped the wall. He was naked, he wouldn’t give me his name, and my husband was still sleeping inside the house, knowing nothing.

Half an hour ago I opened my email with my legs already restless. I wanted to know how many had jerked off thinking about me. There were more than I expected.