I Came in a Closet
Hormonal horniness, closet orgasms, and midday cunnilingus
I’ve been overwhelmingly horny. It’s not convenient, but it is fun.
It takes hardly anything — a brush of my underpants as I recline, Joe’s new haircut, a lingering dream about mending my lingerie collection (honest to God) — and suddenly I’m a teenager home alone, heart racing as I sneak to the bathroom to turn on the tub faucet.
My hormones are saying it’s time for another kid, yet our capacity (and my husband’s sense) says absolutely not. When I’m most viciously aroused, we’re reminded of that. In the middle of the day, we have meetings to attend or children to tend to.
It’s hard to ask a midday desire to wait till after bedtime — after we’ve picked rice off the rug, wiped dried wee from the toilet, and reminded a one-year-old to say ‘ahh’ long enough to brush twelve tiny teeth. And I don’t think I’ve been alone since Mother’s Day, when my boys brought me flowers.
So I often think about coming. And when a moment comes, for me to come, I do. Quickly.
I came in a closet recently. In seconds.
One weekday lunch hour, Joe was busy, so I masturbated beside him.
Another time, I didn’t want him to be busy. I texted him explicit coaxings mid-call. He excused himself. We had mutual oral and penetration. I came quickly. I came twice. The second was simultaneous (honest to God). I said, “That was magical.” Because it was.
But the hottest of late was another midday miracle of schedule alignment — a far more desperate one.
