Masturbation

When I realized someone was watching me naked from the building across the way, I didn’t feel afraid. I felt a tingling I could no longer ignore.

I saw him come out of the bathroom with the towel at his waist, and everything changed in an instant: I stopped seeing him as my son and started planning how to make him want me.

That morning Mateo told me something was wrong down there, and without knowing it, he began the quietest and hardest week of my adult life.

I walked with my legs apart, loaded with a pain I didn’t know how to ease. When she came into my room and asked what was wrong, I knew there was no turning back.

She stepped out of the water thinking how good it felt to be alone and free. When she turned to the shore, her clothes, backpack, and boots were gone.

That morning I thought I was alone in the house. I walked naked down the hallway and, as I turned the corner, there she was, with a look that wasn’t a mother’s.

I turned off the light, locked the door, and for the first time let myself fantasize without censorship. What I discovered that night changed the way I look in the mirror.

I heard my twin sister moving in the shower. When I went into the bathroom, I saw her panties on the floor, and everything got complicated that very morning.

I was alone on the sofa when the door opened. It was Marina, my sister’s friend, and what she saw made her smile. What happened next took me by surprise.

Nineteen years old, a 100-degree afternoon, and my aunt by marriage mopping my room in tight jeans. That afternoon I couldn’t hold back anymore.

When I came back from the bathroom with her garment tucked in my pocket, I had no idea she’d be waiting that same afternoon with a deal that would change everything.

The robe rode up when she bent for the spatula. It wasn’t an accident; it was an invitation I spent the whole morning accepting.

I thought I was home alone. The key in the lock came too late, and when I lifted my head from the sofa, she’d already seen me.

I went into my room and found her naked in a corner, masturbating while she watched me. She said nothing. Neither did I. I just sat down in front of her.

I’ve spent years thinking about that moment: Valeria in the empty classroom, her finger pointing at my crotch and that smile promising everything that never happened.

I went to his house thinking I was doing a good deed. I found my photos on his phone, and what I did next I haven’t told anyone until today.

While he drowned in whiskies, he confessed his darkest fantasy to me. He didn’t know what he was asking for until I came home with it on video.

Alone at home, wearing a thong and red lipstick, I looked in the mirror and felt no shame. I felt something far more interesting.

He had the kind of arms you notice even when you try not to. He said goodbye in thirty seconds and went back upstairs. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He was the quietest guy in class, wore glasses, and never talked about anything but studying. I had spent weeks thinking about what I’d accidentally seen.