"Chastity: the most unnatural of sexual perversions."
- Aldous Huxley
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Generally speaking, living in an apartment is not a very fun experience. But, as I learned several years ago, there may be a few advantages... I'll never forget the first time I heard the upstairs neighbors fucking. It was 10:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. This was actually a very strange time for any of us to be at home. However, it was the week before Christmas, and we were all college students on our holiday break. I was home alone, and sitting on our bed folding laundry in preparation for an upcoming vacation. As I paired assorted socks and folded the multi-colored underwear into neat sixths, the rhythmic rocking of the upstairs neighbors' bed came to my attention.
I looked up and started laughing out loud when I immediately suspected their activity. The previous couple who lived in the apartment above us always argued around 3:00 AM, so this was an amusing and enjoyable switch. I continued folding the clothes, moving on to my husband's tee shirts. White, Hanes, size large. I frowned because I truly hate folding his tee shirts. The sounds from the bed above continued, bringing an occasional chuckle from me. When the rhythm suddenly changed, I found myself looking at the ceiling again and realized that I had stopped folding altogether. I stopped smiling and stared at the ceiling, keeping very still and even holding by breath as I listened carefully to the sounds from their bed.
My God! How could anyone move their hips that fast? I tried to imagine what they looked like as he slammed his long body into her soft curves again and again and again, *fast*.
Then, I suddenly began to hear her voice, too. She seemed to be quite pleased with his inhuman speed, moaning and whimpering in time to the squeaks. By now I had completely forgotten the tee shirts. My left hand was alternating breasts, lightly pinching. I closed my eyes and listened to the couple as they approached climax. My right hand inched downward -- I was wet and aching, and wanted to touch myself.
As my hand reached into my panties, I imagined that I was fucking my own husband to that insane rhythm. I rubbed and pinched and moaned, and my orgasm came very quickly.
Shortly after, their own orgasms were signaled by her near scream and his loud grunting moan. The bed stopped shaking immediately, and I could imagine them laying in an exhausted heap. That night, when my husband and I were in bed, I heard them going at it again. "Honey, do you hear that?" I whispered to him. "What? Oh, that! Sweetie, it's *nasty* to listen to the neighbors fuck," he reproached jokingly, with a smile on his face. "I can't help it. Can you believe that?" I was referring to the rhythm, but he assumed that I just meant the fact that we could hear them. "I'm sure they can hear us, too," he joked, rubbing himself against my back. I could feel his erection quite clearly. "Shall we give them something to listen to?"