Seduction

Every so often I’d type her name to see if I could find her. She never showed up. Until that morning, when the first result was her, exact, unmistakable.

I never wanted to go on camera. Until one night, curiosity won out and a faceless user asked to be alone with me.

He doesn’t know that when he closes his chat window, I turn off the light and let my hands do what his hands could never do to me from so far away.

I’d been secretly wearing lingerie for years. That week, away from home, I decided to find out what it really felt like with a stranger in bed.

My wife thought the game was over when the technician left. She didn’t know the hidden camera had recorded everything, and that my excitement had only just begun as I watched from the office.

I had never dared watch myself while I touched myself. That afternoon I put my phone in front of the bed, took a deep breath, and learned something new about my own desire.

When she let the robe fall, I understood that my perfect neighbor was hiding far more than anyone imagined, and that night I no longer wanted to turn back.

I thought it would just be another chat to kill the boredom. But when he started typing, I closed my eyes and let his words do what no hand had done in months.

The lock thrown, the light off, and one single finger enough to take me where no boy my age ever knew how to lead me.

I saw her legs cross the stage and knew I wouldn’t make it through the whole day. Desire carried me to the last bathroom stall, alone with my own need.

I hadn’t slept well in six weeks, and her scent was still on the sheets. That morning, in the café on the avenue, I learned what it costs to lose someone who still smells like yours.

At thirty, no one had ever kissed me. The night I spied on my roommate through the crack in his door, something inside me finally awakened.

I went upstairs to use the bathroom and he was waiting for me with his fly open. What I didn’t count on was someone opening the door just when we were on all fours.

For a whole year I lived two lives: the perfect professional beside my partner, and the insatiable lover who returned to the hotel each night. Until television announced his death.

I knew no one could see me in that dark storeroom. Only the naked mannequin in the corner witnessed what I did while thinking of her, the seamstress in the shortest skirt.

She climbed into the back seat beside my boss’s wife, thinking she was going to help me. She got out wondering when she could see her again.

“Lock the door and take off your clothes,” was the first thing you heard from my voice that night. The rest depended on how much you were willing to obey me.

“Put on the song I told you to and start undressing slowly. Don’t rush: tonight I’m in charge, even if we’re hundreds of kilometers apart.”

If his cock wouldn’t respond, he’d borrow another man’s. It was enough to look a man in the eye and whisper the right suggestion to get to his wife’s bed.