Most porn is visual. Most porn movies are more convincing if you turn off the fake moans and the cookie-cutter dialog. But we are wired for sound. I think that, in earlier times, when there was less privacy, the sound of one couple having good sex would have set off a ripple of arousal all around them.
This is a lighthearted story of a young woman whose ears are leading her deeper into the life of the couple next door and teaching her new things about her own desires.
This week, I finally noticed that I come silently. When the big O (or even several little Os) hit, no ecstatic tone poems pass my lips, there are no cries of victory, instead I tend to open my mouth wide without letting out a breath. It seems to stretch out the come, as if the silence helps to squeeze out the pleasure.
It’s not that I don’t want to be noisy, I’m not bashful or anything. I think it’s a habit I acquired growing up in an overcrowded household. When you’re finger deep in fun you don’t want your little brother shouting out, “Mum, our Sheila’s doing it in the bathroom again!”
Right now I’m sort of celibate, which in my case means I’d like to fuck but I’m not yet desperate enough to fuck any of the available men in my life, so I thought that maybe I was being quiet because I was on my own. I made the mistake of phoning Kyle, my most recent ex,to ask him if I was a noisy fuck: cue one fucked up conversation.
“Babe,” he said (I hate being called babe and he knows it), “when we fucked I only knew you were awake because you made no noise. As soon as you fell asleep you’d start snoring.”
“Oh yeah?” I replied (OK, so I’m not always calm on the phone) “Well the only reason I knew I was awake when we fucked was because sex was always fun in my dreams.”
You can see why he’s my ex.
Anyway, it was my new neighbours, Bruce and Cathy, who brought my attention to my silent screaming. I don’t mean that they were in the room giving me feedback or anything. Can you imaging them commenting from the foot of the bed? – “Sheila, do try to emote more, dear. Let everyone know that you’re enjoying yourself”. No, it was just that they made so much noise and so often that I started to think of my silence as strange.
We live in a wooden beach house that was once one large building but which has been magically transformed into two rental properties by the simple insertion of a plasterboard wall across the middle of the house. I live here all year round but Cathy and Bruce have just rented the apartment next-door for the summer.
They’re both much older than me, Bruce is about forty and she’s maybe five years younger. They look like Godsquad types: impossibly clean and wholesome, dressed in earth tones and natural fibres. I imagined them listing their hobbies as vegetarian cookery and pro-active recycling. Boy was I wrong. It turns out that their main hobby is loud raucous sex. Talk about the rapture taking you, they have a second coming more often than I have dessert.
Cathy’s a tiny fragile looking thing, you’d swear that the slightest pressure would snap her bones, but she bounces off that headboard like a squash ball and the noises she makes – dear God, she’d earn a fortune as a phone sex operator. He’s quieter, if the walls weren’t so thin I might not hear him at all, as it is I can hear everything, including the wet squelching sound his cock makes as he pushes into her. When he comes, he makes a noise that reminds me for all the world of a constipated man discovering Exlax for the first time.
The first night they did it I woke up and just lay there transfixed. My heart was pounding. My mind was forming images to match the sound. I was so aroused that I actually felt guilty. Cathy came with a low growl and then there was silence. I was sweating but only half way to where I wanted to be. “Fuck”, I thought, “that was way too quick.”
I was just about to go find a favourite vibrator to play with when the first slap landed. Bruce must have been doing the slapping because each one was followed by a soft female grunt.
After six slaps there was a pause. I was listening so hard I felt my ears must have been moving independently. Then I heard Cathy’s voice, slurred with passion, pushing a single word out into the darkness: “HARDER”.
It was as if she twisted my nipples with that word. I took my biggest, firmest pillow and pushed it between my legs. I fucked it in time to the slaps and then in time the banging of their headboard against the wall. I almost dislocated my jaw stretching with silent screaming that night.
Yesterday, after two nights of aural sex, I did something that surprised me. I didn’t plan it but I didn’t stop it happening either: I followed Cathy. I heard her shout, “I’m going for a swim” and something clicked in my head. I gathered up my own costume without admitting to myself what I was doing or why I was doing it.
My relationships have always been heterosexual. If I was going to follow a neighbour, it should have been a male neighbour, but I had the strongest desire to see Cathy naked. It wasn’t that I wanted to touch her or anything; I just wanted to be able to picture her clearly when I listened to her fuck. Well it seemed reasonable as long as I didn’t say it out loud.
Cathy was already in the water by the time I got to the pool. She wore a black Speedo one-piece, goggles and a cap; not sexy but it had a functional beauty that appealed to me. She was a pro in the water, doing breaststroke faster than I can do crawl. I did a couple of laps for forms sake and then I sat at the side of the pool, pretending to get my breath back, and watched her.
She switched to backstroke. Doesn’t sound erotic does it? But with her it was. Her movements were smooth and strong. Each stroke lifted one of her small breasts out of the water and the slipstream she created swirled over her mound. She did five more laps. I counted them. It didn’t take long.
I should have sat further away from the ladder if I wanted to pass unnoticed. Perhaps I didn’t want to pass unnoticed. To me it seemed that when she climbed up out of the water she was dripping sex. She stopped at the top of the ladder and pulled the goggles down around her neck. The cap came off in a single fluid motion, releasing her long silky black hair. An image flashed across my mind: her, above me, whipping and stroking my naked torso with her hair then letting me slide it, like a silk scarf, between my legs. I didn’t make any sound but I think I licked my lips and I know my nipples hardened.
Cathy walked past me without pausing. I waited a couple of minutes and then followed her into the changing room. I’ve never understood how facilities with Olympic sized pools end up with such crappy changing rooms. These were cramped and the shower had nasty plastic curtains that sometimes became moldy.
Cathy was already in the shower. She hadn’t drawn the curtain. I sat on a bench and undressed slowly, watching her. She was washing her hair, even though it had been tucked into her cap. Her back was towards me displaying her small, tight, pale buttocks. I pictured them turning pink, then red as slap after slap landed on them.
Cathy titled her face upwards so that her hair streamed down her back, then she turned around to let the shower rinse her. Her nipples were longer than mine and pointed upwards at an angle I envied. For a moment I had an absurd image of using her nipples to hang hats from. I don’t even own a hat.
It would have been obvious by now that I was staring, but the water was hitting Cathy’s face so she had her eyes closed. Cathy shaves have armpits but not her pubes. She had a forest of curly black hair between her legs that I found breath taking. The shower gel looked like semen streaking her pubes. I wanted to grab hold of the showerhead and rinse her clean.
The water stopped. I registered the sound before I processed its meaning. I was sitting forward on the bench staring at Cathy’s sex and the water wasn’t in her face anymore. I looked down and pretended to search for a towel. I was still looking down when Cathy walked past. She has perfect feet, I thought.
I was determined not to watch Cathy dry herself. But I couldn’t just sit there, I was going to have to take a shower. Shit, that meant she would get to watch me naked. Maybe I should draw the curtain? I decided not to be a wimp, I have a nice body – in a 1950’s curvaceous sort of way – and I wasn’t afraid to show it off, at least, that’s what I told myself.
I showered slowly, with my eyes closed, imagining Cathy watching me. Would she describe me to Bruce? Would I be lying next door hearing her say, “She has good breasts and a smackable arse.” Suddenly I wished I had a tattoo or some piercings that would make juicy conversation: “She has these delightful little rings in her nipples. I’d want to hang bells on them, then you could hear her coming.”
The urge to slide a finger between my legs was very strong. I made do with soaping my breasts vigourously. Except that just made me hotter and it meant that my nipples were standing to attention.
I stepped out of the shower, blinking water away and groping for my towel. The towel wasn’t there.
“Is this yours?”
Cathy, now fully dressed, was standing directly in front of me, holding out my towel.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Our hands touched as she passed the towel over. I am taller than her. She’s shoulder high to me. She could kiss my breasts without having to bend. I had a flash of her mouth closing over my nipple and me saying “HARDER”, just like she does.
Cathy glanced at my nipples, smiled and said, “Good to see you, Sheila”. Then she left.
Oh my God, she knew me. She knew who was watching her. I was horrified and excited at the same time. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed our little exchange but there was no one in sight. I hung the towel on the hook, stepped back into the shower and drew the curtain. It seemed to take more effort to come standing up. I had to brace myself against the wall and almost scoop out my come. Water splashed into my mouth during my silent scream. I let myself imagine that I was sucking Bruce’s come from Cathy’s cunt. My legs gave way and I slid down the wall until I was squatting in the stall shivering with pleasure.
The afternoon passed slowly. I watched soaps and played solitaire on my computer but I kept seeing Cathy’s small breasts and the bushy triangle of curls between her legs. I even put a note in my Palm Pilot to do list “Get laid soon.” Then I opened it again and added “By a man”.
The fucking started at about eleven. I was laying in bed waiting for it like a virgin on her wedding night, except I had a big blue vibrator to keep me company.
This time I heard Bruce first. He seemed louder than usual.
“Yeah, that’s good. Lick the shaft. Now show me how much you can take. Oh fuck.”
I pushed my vibe into my mouth, and sucked it.
There was a wet echoey slapping noise that I couldn’t place, a pause, rapidly gulped air and then the noise again. He was fucking her face. Fragile little Cathy was lying on her back with her head over the bed, letting Bruce treat her mouth like a cunt, or she was kneeling and he was forcing her head forward, her black hair wrapped around his fist.
I pushed big blue deeper into my mouth. My eyes started to tear and I choked. I put one hand behind my head and forced myself to swallow.
The slapping sound increased in pace. I wondered how she managed to breath. Bruce made his Exlax sound. Did he come in her mouth? On her face? Over her beautiful black hair?
Cathy’s first breath sounded like a wretch. Then there were gulps. I could picture her little cum- covered breasts heaving.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
At least the man had manners.
“Now spread and let me eat you.”
Oh shit, why didn’t men ever say that to me?
Bruce ate slowly. Cathy mewed and growled. I covered my fingers in lube and worked toward my first big O. I was almost there when Cathy said, “Lower.”
There was a pause then, “Push your tongue in. Tongue fuck my arsehole.”
That’s when I found out that one big O could move straight into another big O.
Cathy and I came together. I wanted to tear down the wall and kiss her.
“Good boys deserve a reward,” Cathy said. I heard a condom packet being opened. Condoms? Did they think they’d infect each other?
“Let me slip this on. Then you can finish what you started”
Bruce groaned. I put the vibe on its highest setting. I didn’t think they’d notice the buzz and I needed it.
I still couldn’t picture them. It was like losing the signal from your cable company just when they named the murderer.
“You’re sure?” Brian said, “Last time it hurt you”
“Yeah, but it hurt good. Just go slow.”
The picture snapped back on. He was going to sodomise her. I’ve never done that. Never had anyone I trusted enough.
Cathy was muttering. Bruce was making soothing sounds. I was putting a condom on big blue.
“I’m in. God you’re tight.”
I nuzzled blue against my well lubed rose and pushed. Seven inches suddenly seemed impossibly long. No way was I switching the rotating head on.
SMACK. Bruce hit her. Then again. And again.
I switched blue on low and moved him gently back and forth. I wondered what it would be like to be under Cathy while Bruce did this. Would I be agile enough to lick her cunt? Would I want to? Yeah, I just might.
Cathy was growling. I wasn’t getting there fast enough. Two fingers slipping and sliding through my labia fixed that.
“HURT ME YOU BASTARD”
The headboard beat out a tattoo of penetration, pain and passion. My next big O redefined big.
Silence, then a “plop”. I didn’t understand the sound until I extracted blue.
I was sore and my arse felt like you could push a fist in it, but every muscle in my body was relaxed. I remembered a joke, Kyle used to tell: The orgy in Valhalla has gone on all night. As dawn arrives the God of Thunder turns to the naked beauty next to him and says in his deepest voice, “Hi, I’m Thor”. The beauty stretches, sighs and says, “Tho am I but I’m thatisfied”. I’d never laughed at that joke before but this time I couldn’t help it.
I meant it to be a silent chuckle but it may have been louder.
I lay still wondering if they’d heard me.
Bruce was snoring. The show was over for tonight. I nestled into my pillows, a smile on my lips. As I was slipping into sleep I heard Cathy say, “Goodnight Sheila.”
This was shaping up to be a great summer.
(c) Mike Kimera 2003 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from firstname.lastname@example.org
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