I once lived next to a rather boring-looking couple. Sweet. Two kids. Not much going on.
All of a sudden, she lost a bunch of weight and showed up with corn-rows. Being very white – and not in the Bo Derek way – this was not a becoming look for her. Not a “10” in sight. Then she moved out, they got a divorce. All was quite.
Until the music started. And the voices of drunk people – dancing, partying – living it up! And THEN the sex started. Morning, noon, evening, middle of the night. Very loud, very graphic. The walls seemed non-existing. Every thrust, every turn, every moan – we were there for it all. Turned out, he had stamina you WOULD NOT believe. Which was perfect, because she was a screamer. So their sessions would last for HOURS. Loooud hours!
Looking back, I now see that listening to other people having sex made go through different phases:
At first, I was really shy but also kind of curious. A wee bit turned on. Found the whole thing…. kind of kinky.
In the second phase, I was rather jealous. Looked blamingly at my husband, Mr. Quickie. While they engaged in round 3 next door.
The third phase left me really annoyed. Thought it was literally fucking rude. I felt invaded – and not in the good way!
In the fourth and final phase, I was indifferent. Was awoken by their climaxes, which were a sound-wall of fireworks, trains driving into tunnels, waves crushing onto surfs – loud and clear! I just turned over in my bed, falling right back to sleep.
Then a glorious thing happend. She moved in.
Six months later, all was nice and quite again. HE!
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