Watching Him, Watching her

I hear his voice first—
low, deep, commanding.
A tone I know too well,
the one that makes my thighs clench,
makes my body ache before I even see him.

She’s giggling, moaning,
soft little whimpers of obedience.
I press closer to the door,
heat pooling between my legs
as I listen to her gasping through the phone.

I can hear it—
the buzz of her vibrator,
the slick, wet sounds of her dripping cunt
as she follows his every word.

He tells her how good she is,
how perfect she looks with her legs spread wide,
both holes exposed just for him.
How hard she makes him
when she listens,
when she obeys.

I creep closer, heart pounding,
my body already burning.
The door is cracked,
and from the stairs, I can see him now—
laid back on the bed,
cock in one hand,
phone in the other.

He’s watching her.
Guiding her.
Owning her.

And fuck, I need him.

I slip a hand between my thighs,
finding myself already drenched.
I press a finger inside, then another,
fucking myself deep, hard,
matching the rhythm of his stroking,
matching the gasping cries from the woman
who is coming apart for him.

Her body trembles on the screen,
legs shaking, juices spilling—
and then he groans, deep and raw,
his grip tightening as he explodes,
thick ropes of cum spilling over his hand
just as she squirts for him,
a perfect mess of submission.

I bite my lip,
my own climax rushing through me,
waves of heat, of need, of something darker—
the hunger to be next.