"I'm not joking. You know me, I love voyeurism."
I was seized by a fit of laughter which she stopped with a flick.
"Very funny," she continued. "Meanwhile, you have no more lessons to give me. You've entered the game, sis."
"No, I've just had an experience and for the moment, it doesn't change anything." She took a sip and, while putting down her glass, she looked at me seriously.
"Do you have a sex toy?"
"A what?" I asked, furrowing my brows.
"You heard me, and you know exactly what I'm talking about."
A few days later, a discreet package was waiting at my doorstep. It was the logical continuation of that last conversation with Chloé, the step I had decided to take. I found myself deep in thought, hesitating before this daring turn. Then, I had to admit that exploring my own sexuality, after years of semi-frustration, could only bring a breath of fresh air. And if it didn't work, the objects would end up in the trash, in complete secrecy. Spending fifty euros wouldn't put my financial health at risk.
The packaging was neat, revealing nothing of its contents. No suggestive mention, no hint of its nature. I had chosen three sex toys, after almost two hours of intensive research on my smartphone, toggling between several websites and forums to get a precise idea of what I needed.
When I opened the package, the first black model caught my attention. Poorly packaged, only covered with a thin plastic film, it was loose in the box; this betrayed a certain lack of seriousness from the shipping company. I picked it up nonetheless and observed it for a long time. Its material and shape were strange but not unpleasant, however, it seemed obvious to me that I wasn't going to be able to use it anyway, for fear of tearing myself apart. I placed it on the table. If this size was a "M", luckily I hadn't ordered a "L"...
After unpacking, the second and third seemed immediately more accessible. They were, however, very similar. One of the two was slightly smaller and its material seemed different. I picked up this one and was immediately struck by its lightness. I could tell right away, as I shook it frantically in all directions, that it was much less rigid than a real erect penis. I felt oddly at ease. It must have been about fifteen or sixteen centimeters long. Its material was soft. These last thoughts pushed me to imagine myself straddling this strange object and my tranquility evaporated instantly. I felt a bit ridiculous. I quickly stood up, put the three objects in the bedside table, and hurried towards the stairs. The front door slammed at the same time, it was already seven-thirty. Daily reality, with its constraints and habits, always reclaimed its rights. My curiosity being satisfied, time and experience would now be the only judges.
A hellish Friday....
Lying on my sun lounger, I had been lost in thought for a good hour. The sun was beating down very hard and I could feel the sting of the sun on my skin covered in monoï.
Not much had happened since I received my package a week earlier. My husband didn't touch me very often anymore, I had just celebrated two months of sexual drought. His job, his promotion, and his sister, were practically the only topics I was allowed to take part in. As for Léo, my son, let's not talk about it. He was still not working and his acquaintances were more than dubious. An unbearable husband and a kid as unruly as ever filled my life with joy... To top it all off, the two of them were no longer getting along at all.
But on my side, everything was strangely for the best. I had started exercising again about ten days ago and had stopped preparing dinner every night, preferring to patronize the small village caterer. This mental relief was doing me a lot of good. It just goes to show, it didn't take much. Jérôme, the caterer, was always very welcoming to me. Maybe because I had become a regular and loyal customer, or because I always wore my brightest smile when I entered his small business. On second thought, it was probably also because of my deep necklines, which never failed to attract many looks, which of course earned me some stinging remarks from my dear and loving husband.
Anyway, even single, this man wouldn't have attracted me in the slightest. He was really short and his monobrow, which gave him the look of a fierce beast, almost scared me. However, I was willing to admit that seeing him ogle me with desire each time I passed by his shop gave me a sneaky little pride. Because believe me, he didn't hesitate at all.
I had also tried, these last days and in parallel with my oh so thrilling life, to indulge in a new secret activity involving lubricant and plastic. The experiment was not very conclusive, I had to admit. Each attempt ended in a dismal failure. I was always too stressed, so much so that the contractions prevented me from completing my project each time. It was ridiculous, as if inserting a rubber object into my vagina could fundamentally change me. Hundreds of millions of women used this type of object, it was even something completely natural in this 2.0 era. I hadn't given up, quite the contrary. Looking at the handbag that contained my sex toy, lying on the ground next to me, I smiled. Even if I hadn't really used it yet, at least conclusively, it was already never far from me. Its silent presence constantly reminded me of the woman I could be. It was an invisible key, a passport to an unexplored freedom, a world where I could be the mistress of my pleasure. A mixture of excitement and fear swirled in me every time I thought of it, of what it symbolized. It was as if, by choosing to keep it close to me, I was making an implicit decision: to embrace my desire, my autonomy, to acknowledge my sexuality as my own.
I opened my eyes as I came out of my thoughts. The sky was a beautiful azure blue. A few small clouds were wandering here and there. It was very hot. However, I could feel a little breeze on my slightly tan skin from time to time. I wiped a little bead of sweat that was running down my temple before I strained to listen. There wasn't a soul in sight, as often, the small subdivision seemed deserted. I heard several bird cries, they had made their nests in the hole in the roof of our shed.
Suddenly, a faint noise sounded; an engine had just started. Fabulous! It had been two weeks since the neighbors' gardener had shown up. That was good, I was in a playful mood! My son had also trimmed the hedges the day before, even though, as I looked at them for a few moments, I noticed without surprise that he hadn't put a lot of heart into the work. Regardless, my favorite spy was going to have a field day. He wouldn't need to play the acrobat again; at least not as much.
My pulse quickened, I welcomed this budding excitement like a playful child and cast several glances around, taking care to verify the absence of our neighbors' two vehicles. Moreover, as it was two o'clock, their son would be at school; at least that's what I rapidly deduced without further contemplation. My gaze swept a full three hundred and sixty degrees before I hurriedly unfastened my bra without any real struggle, immediately followed by my denim jeans. In turn and without further hesitation, my pretty black lace thong also dropped onto the grass. I was as excited as a flea, all sweaty. The next steps were swift: I slid my sunglasses down my nose, flexed my muscles a bit, slightly parted my thighs, and assumed the most natural position possible.
A solid twenty minutes passed. During this time, I heard the lawnmower stop several times, accompanied by muffled engine noises. Damn it! If the mower broke down, he would leave.
After a halt of several minutes, which sent a massive wave of frustration washing over me, I heard the engine start again. The excitement slightly rekindled when the sound of the engine resonated once more in front of me. He finally passed in front of the hedge; it was almost impossible for him not to notice me, the recently pruned branches had left a gaping hole between the two properties. My doubts were quickly confirmed as I distinctly heard the idle engine grumble a few yards from me. Petrified by the adrenaline, I froze, then, after a few moments which seemed like an eternity, the noise moved away again.
A small jolt ran through me and I opened my eyes, I had dozed off... Not for very long, judging by the sun's position in the sky. I slightly turned my head. My carefully thought-out position allowed me to observe the hedge without much effort. As I expected to see no one, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Despite blinking dozens of times, the image of the young man did not fade: it was not Fabien, but Antoine, the neighbor's son, who was rooted among the branches.
