The past three nights I had spent in my bed, eagerly hoping. Returning to my student apartment after a Christmas week at my parents, I had had a glimmer of hope that my room mate would hit the new year running. But this fourth night hadn't brought any luck yet.
I was stretched out on my back, feet over the edge of the bed onto the floor, pants around my ankles - one under my head, the other cupping my balls, and imagining the past half year.
Moving in with a stranger for a flat share wasn't abnormal for someone beginning a new university, but the housing was a bit different. This was an older apartment being turned into student flat, which meant the original one large bedroom had been split into two, both barely reaching two meters in width. A new door had been set into my room, which meant I had gotten direct access to the kitchen, while Orin had to walk through the original hallway. Dividing the two rooms was the cheapest drywall the owner could find, which meant that most sounds ran straight through. It was cheap rent, though, so we stuck with it.
For everyday practices, we had figured most things. We only listened to music or movies on headphones, we tried keeping other sounds down, and he had even gotten himself those strips to stop himself from snoring. Unfortunately, Orin was also a fiendishly good late night smooth talker, and certainly not a stranger to bringing people home at night.
At first, it had been annoying. I would be almost fallen asleep as he crashed, more or less inebriated or sober depending on the time and day, with someone on his arm, giggling as they tried keeping the sounds down. He certainly wasn't one for speed, and tended to draw out the act, which only annoyed me more. More than once I had knocked on the wall, as hard as I dared in fear of breaking it, with a yell of «move on!», while he pounded away at some one night stands hopeful orifice.
Not simply because of the sound. You see, another drawback of the two meter wide room is that the king size beds barely fit. We could, of course, set the beds into the middle of the room, not touching any wall, but for efficiency we both had set them in sideways, pivoting to touching three of the walls within, to get the most out of the limited floor space. This meant that whenever there was a sharp movement in one bed, it was propagated to the other.
So whenever Orin thrust into this nights lucky chosen, I moved a little. Every time he flipped his one night stand over on their knees, I was bumped adjacently. Every time his partners came, jolting in the bed, the vibrations reached me.
With time, this turned into a small ritual. I would try to lay in silence, and let the beds undulations rub the bedsheets on my balls, letting my room mates motions latently turn my limp dick into a tensed tool. Then I would lay myself on my back and move my hands up and down my shaft in the same rhythm. Something about being the third wheel turned me on, to draw from next doors sexual energy gave me my hardest erections, and my most powerful ecstacies.
I always tried cumming at the same time as one of the people next door - mostly aiming for the times of the people Orin brought home, but sometimes lasting until Orin reached his climax. I would come silently to begin with, uttering nothing as my seed sprayed, tangling into my chest hairs. But with time I realised that giving off a good moan also enforced my orgasms. My three day scruffs had, more than a dozen times, been hit with a good wad of cum - as I let out a groan. Orin always laughed when he heard it.
Me and Orin had never talked much about this, but he used to wink at me the mornings after his conquests, and we fist bumped knowingly.
