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I thought I was clever, keeping my dirty little secret. Turns out, I wasn’t as sly as I thought.
Cyrus winked at me after Zeke’s long speech about what a useless piece of shit I was. Okay, he might not have uttered those words, but the gist was pretty much the same. If I’m being honest, he’s not wrong. My issues have fucked up my life. Unlike Cyrus and Zeke, who can move on with life, I’m still frozen in place with my mother’s hands on my shoulders as I gaze in horror.
Occasionally, I wonder if I enjoy voyeurism because of what my mother forced me to do. Like now, for instance, as I watch three people I love. It should disgust me, but I’ve long suspected the illness that afflicted my parents is also in my DNA.
You’re watching adults, not children.
I know my proclivity isn’t the same. Cyrus, Zeke, and Azadeh know I’m lurking behind the monitors. But I still can’t ignore that nagging guilt.
My eyes are glued to the monitor. Azadeh’s sitting on Cyrus’s mouth, making me wish it was my face she was riding.
Zeke pulls at her mouth, forcing her to look at the camera. “Enjoying the show, Peeping Tom?”
Zeke’s anger is palpable. I sense his frustration, fear, and rage through the monitor. So much that I wouldn’t be surprised if his hand emerged through the screen to strangle me. But the rage he hides so well makes my dick throb.
I spit on my hand and bring it to my shaft. I work my dick, imagining Zeke taking his frustration on me.
“You touching yourself, Levinston?” Zeke asks.
“Yes,” I whisper into the safety of the dark room.
He smiles as if he can see me and quickens his thrusts into Azadeh, his thumb deep in her ass. My mouth waters as saliva falls from Azadeh’s mouth, sliding down her nipples and falling onto Cyrus’s forehead.
Cyrus lifts his hands and twists Azadeh’s nipples. He’s not gentle. Cyrus has always been better at taking charge of her body. He has no problem hurting her like she wants. Degrading words fall from his lips so easily, and he’s the best at sexually gratifying her.
Zeke fulfills her emotionally. He understands her on a level that Cyrus and I never could. Azadeh and Zeke discuss poetry, politics, and religion. They have an intellectual connection. The orgasms they share are heightened but in a different way.
I don’t know what I can offer Azadeh besides buying her anything she wants. It might be enough for some women, but not Azadeh. That girl doesn’t want what’s in my bank account; she longs to possess my soul.
Zeke lifts Azadeh off him and walks away. She seems not to care as her grinding on Cyrus’s face intensifies. This woman is so brave and powerful. Even during sex, she has no problem demanding what she wants and taking it.
When I first met Azadeh, I didn’t know that a woman could look like her and be kind and strong. My mother was beautiful, but her heart was black, and her strength was non-existent. She had no issue hurting those without power. She was a shell of a woman, and I thought all women were cruel like her. But the moment I met Azadeh, something in her eyes lured me in. As I got to know her, her brave heart and wicked mind made me stay.
“Fuck, baby girl,” Zeke groans. “It’s hot watching you take what you want. I think before I fuck that tight little pussy again, I’m gonna need you to cum for me. Ride that tongue until you drip into Cyrus’s mouth. You know how much he loves cum, baby. Be a good girl and give it to him.”
Azadeh grips Cyrus’s hair and presses down on his face, grinding until her head falls back, and she moans.
Zeke steps forward and yanks Azadeh’s hair until she stands and faces him. “Good girl.”
Zeke presses his lips to hers and kisses her with fevered passion, pushing her against the wall. Of all the ways I imagine touching Azadeh, the one I yearn for the most is the sensation of her lips against mine.
Cyrus rises from the floor and grabs the bottle of lube dangling from Zeke’s hand. “Get her on the bed. I want her slutty legs up, and that pussy open nice and wide. You’re going to be a good boy, Zeke, and fuck my dirty slut until she screams. And I’m going to fuck your ass until you cum deep inside her.”
Zeke doesn’t stop kissing Azadeh. He places his hands under her ass and lifts her. She wraps her legs around his waist. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy. Fuck you up against the wall. Once this tight cunt is full of my cum, I’m going to put you on the bed and open your legs so Lev can zoom in and watch me leak out of you.”
I’m shocked the drywall isn’t falling around them as Zeke pounds into her. His thrusts are desperate, like the motion of my hand on my cock. Sex for the four of us has never been about orgasms and gratification. Zeke and Cyrus would’ve banged their way through life if it were. Azadeh never placed any physical loyalty on us. She’s never once demanded fidelity.
But for us, sex is about healing the fractured pieces of our past. Through sex, the three of them have healed. Something I’ve still not managed to do. No matter how badly I wanted that connection over the years, I’ve never been able to break the dysfunctional bonds of my past tethered to my fragile brain. The only time I’ve ever touched her was with the barrel of a gun or while she was drugged into a deep slumber. Fleeting moments that should’ve been transcendental were abhorrent. When she was asleep, I didn’t feel pressure, and when I held the gun, I felt safe.
“Look at me.” Zeke’s order forces my eyes to him. The command is for Azadeh, but I can’t help but obey.
He grabs her jaw, turning her to face him. “Eyes on me while I’m fucking you, Princess. I want those pretty brown eyes knowing exactly whose cock is making you so fucking wet.”
Azadeh wraps her arms around his shoulders, her forehead touching his. The scene is so intimate and powerful. I almost avert my gaze, but the intimacy has my cock ready to blow. Sexual acts are a dime a dozen. I could load up my computer with porn and watch a girl who looks like Azadeh getting rammed by fifty different men if I wanted. But what I crave are these moments of intimate truths. Scraps of love I desperately want but don’t know how to ask for.
“I’m feeling left out here,” Cyrus whines.
Zeke and Azadeh laugh. Humor has always been Cyrus Porter’s forte. I’ve always envied him for that ability. I don a mask of indifference and snobbery to shield myself from the ongoing pain while he uses laughter. My way causes loneliness, and he creates joy.
