Masturbation

I lowered my phone, thinking we’d only chat, but what I saw in her bed that night completely changed what I thought I wanted.

No one had ever taught me to desire myself. That morning, with the house empty and the light coming in through the window, I taught myself.

She got up angry because he was watching soccer and didn’t even notice her. She had no idea that bumping the table would ignite the whole afternoon.

The suitcases still unpacked and, under one of the beds, a stack of old magazines that none of the three siblings could stop staring at that hot afternoon.

I always say I’m shy, but the truth is nothing turns me on more than the possibility that someone will open the door at the worst possible moment.

Cris opened the fitting-room curtain half-dressed and I, instead of backing away, knelt down. What happened next changed everything that followed with Hugo.

At four in the afternoon I was gorgeous, freshly made up in front of the mirror. By ten at night, nothing was left of that perfect girl, and I loved it.

At the New Year’s dawn, Camila asked for a kiss. What looked like a drunken game ended with a vibrator and a confession kept for twenty years.

For months he’d pretended her uniform didn’t affect him. That afternoon, with her thigh bandaged and his hands trembling on her skin, he knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

It had been weeks since I’d set foot in her apartment, but that night, with two half-finished beers and her hand sliding up my thigh, I knew my vacation was off to a very good start.

We’ve been together for years, and there’s still something I don’t dare ask her for. Every time she kneels in front of me, the fantasy returns and I struggle to stay silent.

I sent a photo of my open pussy from the café bathroom. What happened next, in front of that picture window, still makes my legs shake.

I wore my new trainers on a Saturday morning, never imagining I’d come home with my leggings wet for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

I thought I’d have time to pull myself together before he came back from the kitchen. I was wrong. His voice behind me came just as I was whispering his name.

He’s always so serious in front of everyone else. No one imagines that one look from him is enough to make me lower my gaze, approach, and kneel without being asked.

I only wanted to sleep, but the crack in the bedroom door let the light through, and my mother’s low laugh stopped me dead before I reached my room.

I always thought it was something for easy girls. Then I knelt in front of him, looked into the antique mirror, and realized I’d been wrong for years.

I’m not looking for love or promises. That afternoon I saw him cross the square and knew exactly what I wanted to ask, though I’d never dared go that far before.

I got on the most crowded car to escape hands I didn’t want, never imagining I’d end up wanting other hands in full view of the platform.

She was cleaning the terrace in a thong and little else, not knowing two men were spying on her from across the building. And me, seeing her desired, drove me insane.