Me dijiste + Semi relato

You said: - Come here, sit down, I want to ask you something: What do you want me to be for you? - I looked at you, saw a mix of tenderness, seduction, mischief, and above all excitement in your eyes. - It's not easy to answer you, maybe what I desire is for you to be different every day. - You changed expression, I think you didn't expect this response, lines appeared on your forehead, your eyebrows rose slightly and you narrowed your eyelids. Your lips pressed together before giving me a beautiful smile that I love so much. - I don't understand. - Counted to ten, enough time to think carefully about my answer, as well as to keep admiring your lips, now separated and showing off your teeth just barely. - Let me explain: Monday I want you to be my master and I your slave. I have a desire to be the object of your desire, your toy, the young one of your pleasure and be obligated to please you in the way you want. Let you take me at your whim, your desires will be my law. Give you pleasure, exist only for you and because of you. Feel really yours, play at losing my identity because you are my owner.









Tuesday I want you to be my secret lover. Call me at any hour, just to hear your voice. Find you on any corner, away from prying eyes, take you to a small semi-dark bar. Tell you how much I need you, how much I love you. Have a stealthy and exhausting afternoon of sex. Then return you to the same corner and forget about you for a few days. Leave it clear that I don't want commitment, that ours is just this we have, make you an expensive gift, give you a kiss and goodbye.





Wednesday I want to pick you up on the street like two strangers. You're walking straight towards me. Our gazes cross and without wanting it, a smile, almost a grimace, forms on your mouth. You turn away, I keep looking at you. You stop to look at anything in any window, when I pass by your side I see that you're looking at me through the glass reflection.

I stand next to you, ask for a light, old and worn-out morning trick. The touch of your hand, your fine fingers.

After we've introduced ourselves, do we do something? I see how you blush and it excites me. I surprise myself, never did it before, I tell you. It's just because I saw you and you shot me. Do we get something? Or better, are you coming to my place?



All Thursdays we'll celebrate something. My birthday or yours, anniversary, new year, carnival or national holiday. We'll treat each other mutually. A party for the bodies, for the senses.





It will be our reconciliation on Friday after a discussion. Of course, there won't be any discussion, we'll just reconcile. On Fridays I want to taste your tears, I want you to kiss me a lot and I want to feel lucky to have you.





I want you to ignore me on Saturday. That's as simple as that. I want to chase you, hint at you, show myself off and not care about anything. I want you to look at me with raised eyebrows and tell me 'What's wrong with you?' Push me anywhere, touch me and pinch me, let everyone know in every possible way that I desire you and make me extremely hot.







Sundays no. You gaze at me in amazement. You bite your lower lip and ask me to keep going. Sundays I want you to be mine. My lover and companion, owner of my dreams and wakefulness. My first morning vision, my daily contact with life. You, simply you, with your virtues and flaws, with your rage, with your sweetness. Only you.