“What?”
“Sorry. I was just wondering if you heard from Ezra. If that was why you were running late, the two of you made up?”
Katelynn knew we were having some problems and I haven’t heard from him. She just doesn’t know the complete story. She doesn’t know about my job with Behind the Lens. That I masturbate to a live audience for money. I’m not sure she’d care, but I don’t want to risk finding out if she does.
I don’t think I could take someone else rejecting me.
“No. We haven’t.” I clear my throat, not wanting to break down in front of her.
“His fucking loss. If I ever see him, I’m going to kick his ass.” I burst out laughing at her response. “Katelynn, you’ve never even met him.”
“So?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen a picture of him and I know where he teaches. I can always make a sign and protest on the street in front of the school.”
“I love you for that, but it’s not necessary.”
“You sure?” she asks.
“I’m positive. But if we don’t get to studying, we are both definitely failing that test.”
With that, we begin asking each other questions, practicing the ones we noted the professor reviewed with us, until it’s time to head to class.
I walk into the house, tired but ready to talk to Roxy. Not only about this thing between us, but about her family. I have questions and I know she has the answers. My mom is important to me and I need to know this marriage she’s in isn’t going to break her.
I don’t see Roxy in the living room, but I do hear her. It’s muffled, coming from down the hallway where our bedrooms are.
I don’t call out for her. Instead, I drop my bags and coat on the couch and head down the hallway. My steps are slow and careful. Her voice gets louder the further into the house I move. But she’s not talking to someone on the phone, she’s streaming. I press my body closer to the wall, her moans pulling me forward, stopping just outside the cracked open door.
I don’t mean to eavesdrop. But I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
“Hey Babes, who wants more?” she purrs, eyes locking onto the lens like she’s speaking to just one person, when in reality she has thousands of followers.
I know that she’s talking to her viewers, but it feels like she’s speaking tome.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, her legs spread wide as she thrusts a dildo inside her, moaning as she tells her viewers how good it feels. How wet they’ve made her. The soft glow of the ring light casts a warm halo around her, making her skin look like velvet. And I can’t look away.
Roxy moves with such ease, exuding confidence and sexual awareness. Every flick of her hair, every glance at the lens, everyword she says is deliberate. There's a magnetism about her—one that pulls at me with every movement.
I shouldn’t be here, spying on her. It’s invasive, wrong. The shame only twists tighter with every moan she lets out—and still, I stay. It’s not just about how she looks—though God, she’s beautiful—it’s about the way sheownsit. Herself. The space. The gaze. I’m in awe of how easily she commands a room from behind a screen. Something about it sets off an electric buzzing just beneath my skin. I secretly wish that I could do it as easily as her.
I press my body closer to the wall, inching forward so I can get a better view, careful not to make a sound. My pulse quickens. It’s not just lust urging me on—it’s admiration, too. Maybe even envy. She’s fearless in a way I’ve only ever pretended to be.
“I’m so close. Keep those filthy words coming for your little cum slut. Make me come undone all over this dildo while I pretend it’s you.” She thrusts her hand faster, as her other hand cups her breast, as she squeezes and pulls on her very erect nipple. I long to have my mouth on them.
For a split second, I wonder if she knows I’m here. If she’s putting on a little extra show for me. Maybe her words are meant for my ears.
I bite my lip, torn between guilt and desire. But still, I linger—watching the woman I can’t stop thinking about come undone on screen.
And I wonder if she has any idea what she’s doing to me. What she’s been doing to me.
Or maybe she does. Maybe she senses it in that instinctual way performers sometimes do—the slight shift in the air when someone’s watching. But she doesn’t look toward the door, doesn’t pause. She just keeps going, slipping effortlessly into that version of herself that belongs to the screen and the strangers behind it.
She swings her hair as she lowers her head, reads a message, and arches a brow. “That’s bold of you,” she says, smirking at the screen. “I like bold baby, but you haven’t been a good enough boy for that yet.”
My breath catches.
Roxy pulls out the dildo and rubs it between her breasts. She uses her hand to press her breasts around the dildo as she moves it up and down. Is she fucking her breasts with the silicone dick? “You like that, baby? You want more?” she asks the chat, her voice a velvet dare.
This woman is doing something to me that I can’t explain. I swallow hard, knowing that I can’t stay here any longer. Not only because I don’t want to get caught, but because I’m so fucking turned on, I can’t stand it any longer and I need a release.
