In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just hone in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh… oh my” Dancing with Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.
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Dancing With Myself
For half an hour I sat watching the door my husband had walked out of. It remained shut. There was nothing to see but paneled wood. The grain swam before my eyes. I breathed heavily—dry breaths that made my shoulders shudder but still didn’t feel deep enough.
When I’d told him about the affairs, confessing everything, I had felt absolutely calm. Even when things got so out of hand. I’d raised my voice just enough to keep up with his, remained in my seat even when he began to pace and then turned on his toes for the door. Only now did I feel on the verge of sobbing.
Maybe he was going to her—his own other woman. In all our confrontation, I hadn’t asked if he was still seeing her.
The one who smelled of vanilla. Whose scent, rising from his skin as he curled around my body in bed, had started all of this. Not to be confused with my woman who smelled of vanilla, who I wasn’t seeing anymore either.
I lay back on the couch, closed my eyes and turned my head toward the cushions. Buried my face in them, muffling my breathing as it grew harder and faster.