Nothing Is Better Than My Imagination — And My Hands

Alone for the weekend, the only way to satisfy my needs is if I do it myself. At least my neighbor seems willing to provide me with inspiration.

Dilana Rose
4 min readJun 4
Photo by Brynna Spencer:

With my husband away and my lover with his girlfriend, the house felt too large and quiet.

There was nothing in the refrigerator worth eating, and I didn’t feel in the mood to start a new series I couldn’t finish watching before my husband comes home.

I could do anything I want, only there’s no one to do it with.

Bored, I went outside into the back garden and heard my neighbor mowing his lawn. I didn’t need to see him to know he’d have stripped down to his shorts, that his bare chest would be sweaty, and his jaw would show the signs of his delicious weekend stubble.

I could easily fuck him.

I’d watched him watching me from his bedroom window. Occasionally, I’d put on a show for him. He let me see him fist his cock, but I’d never seen the ending. Was he a fill the hand kind of guy, or a spray it as far as he could?

No. My life was complicated enough. I didn’t need another man.

I curled up on the garden bench and closed my eyes and allowed my imagination and hands to take the place of men.

I imagined tracing the sweat along my neighbor’s pecs as I fondled one breast and then the other. I undid the buttons on my blouse and cupped my breast underneath the bra cup. Skin against skin, just the way I liked it. My nipples were as hard as tiny pebbles and when I flicked one, I hadn’t expected my moan to carry far.

It didn’t matter. He would have earmuffs on to block the sound of the mower. I was alone in the world, with my imagination and hands to keep me company.



Dilana Rose

Erotica written for men, loved by women and praise slut for all. Follow me for random hookups, cheating wives, hotwife, freeuse and forbidden desires.