Through The Wall 4

This is another true story that I'm reposting from a long time ago under a different penname.

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Our family vacation began with a drive north on Interstate-5, a long day through the heat of the California Central Valley, finally pushing across the Oregon border to a convenient stopping point -- Grants Pass, a sleepy, struggling Oregon resort town whose value to us was in the swimming pool at the Best Western Motel.

The room personified small-town Americana: two queen beds, a noisy air conditioner, and thin walls. For me the thin walls are a mixed blessing. Usually it means listening to a neighbor's television at midnight, or their toilet flushing and shower hissing at 6am. But sometimes, just sometimes, I am rewarded with the sweet sounds of sex. Active, pleasurable sex, granting me a vicarious connection with my fellow man. And woman.

I usually travel on business, not pleasure, and find myself staying at hotels generally filled with unaccompanied men sleeping alone. Such places rarely present opportunities for interesting eavesdropping. My vacation travel includes my wife and our two small children, and we stay at family-oriented motels, which are mostly filled with other families. I know that having children sharing a room puts a damper on one's sex life, so I've come to expect that other vacationers will be similarly inhibited. But this isn't always the case.

Consistent with "where there's a will, there's a way," my wife and I intertwined in our bed in the dark room, waiting for our children in the other queen bed to fall asleep. We found ourselves playing with each other underneath the sheets. She is a petite woman with disproportionately long, athletic legs, and I big-spooned her from behind as she sprawled those legs over mine and let me run my hand up underneath her nightgown to lazily fondle her pussy while she grasped my hard cock in her fist. The air conditioner, one of those units slung under the window at the front of the room, was cycling on and off, alternating between a noisy fan and an even noisier compressor, usefully masking whatever little sounds we were making.

We've learned to make love this way on previous vacations with the kids, and in some ways it's even more erotic than when we are alone. We strive for silence. No talking, no moaning -- just very controlled breathing and very slow movements. That night our kids stopped tossing and turning in their shared bed and finally seemed to fall asleep at just about the point when my wife and I couldn't wait any longer. I quietly rolled on my side with my back to the kids while she lay on her back. Her legs scissored apart to give me access, and my free hand grazed from her pussy to her hard nipples and back again.

When I added some saliva to her blossoming notch, her silky lips puffed and spread wide, and her own nectar began to flow freely. She was ready. I used my hand to stroke my cockhead between those heavenly lips, and then slowly slid my cock into her slippery sheath, repeatedly inching forward to lubricate my dry skin, retreating back slightly, then forward again. Our pubic bones finally met, and I was fully embedded inside her, my cockhead snugly pressed up into the very top of her vagina. My cock flex involuntarily, and she clenched down around the base to greet me.

We made silent love in the darkness. This position offers deep penetration, and I mostly stayed buried inside her, teasingly rooting around in small circles to massage her inner walls and her entrance with my stiffened flesh, while every so often lazily pulling back and slowly, ever so slowly, holding her hips as I pushed back in until my pubic bone pressed hard against her engorged pussy lips and outthrust clit. We communicated through wiggles and squeezes. As the minutes passed, her breathing became ragged and I knew she was close to orgasm. At this point she loves me to push hard and grind myself against her clit, and I soon felt the deliciously familiar quivering of her vagina around my cock as she held her breath and shuddered through her climax with just the barest of little high pitched squeaks.

After my wife comes, she grows even wetter and squishier. I renewed my languid stroking. The game was now to get her to come a second time before I came myself, and for this goal I cheated. With one hand underneath her small buttocks, I brought the other hand to her vulva and began to move those copious juices up to her clitoris, making just the right kind of circular motions on that stiff little nubbin to drive her wild. It didn't take long. Her lubrication increased another notch or two, her slick walls slightly billowed, and once again I just pushed hard and held myself there, grinding against her and strumming her clit rapidly with my fingers until her whole body shook and her vagina gave out those wonderful little rhythmic squeezes as her orgasm washed over her.

Now it was my turn. As her climax was descending, I began the steady thrusting that I knew would get me over the top. There were no more pauses, no more grinding motions, just a persistent in-and-out stroke using the whole length of my erection. The demand for slow, silent movements only intensified the sensual eroticism of it all.

The final straw for me was hearing the crackling of her oozing lubrication. As my own orgasm exploded out of my groin, I hardened and lengthened inside her and gave one last almost frantic push to drive my stiff cock as deep as I could reach. I held her hips, claiming her body as my prize, and my cock jumped and spurted long streams. I felt her clench down and gyrate her hips against the constraining grasp of my hands, trying to work her clutch around my invading tool, trying to extend my orgasm and milk every last drop of seed from my testicles.

We lay there, motionless, struggling to control our breathing. Our bodies were coated with a sheen of sweat that added to the sweet slippery feel of shared juices where our bodies were still joined. When I softened and slipped out, we uncoupled and shifted into a spooning cuddle. Our heartbeats slowed, our bodies relaxed, and we drifted into the sleep of satiated lovers.

Sometime later I awakened, mildly disoriented. Gradual awareness, strange bed, motel room, vacation. The bedside clock read 11:53pm. It was then that I heard a light thumping coming through the wall behind the headboard. Was that the neighbors? Or was it just one of those ubiquitous mechanical sounds that always seem to rattle through motels? I strained to listen. Thumping for five or ten seconds, then silence. Then more thumping. I cupped my ears with my hands to try to hear more. Nothing. Just a pattern of a steady rhythm, maybe one bump per second, followed by a few seconds of silence, then a repeated stretch of thumps, again and again. Was this lovemaking? Or was it just some innocent noise from the next room?

I glanced at my wife beside me in the near darkness. She was soundly asleep. Feeling bolder, I partially sat up in the bed and pressed my ear to the headboard. I felt around the edge and was delighted to find the corner seemed to be physically attached to the wall, and so I was rewarded by a much clearer sound coming through from the other room. It was now loud enough to overcome the growl of the air conditioner.

I perched there, awkwardly pressing one ear hard against the headboard. My breathing quickened with my excitement, straining to listen to my neighbors. It was now clear to me that they were having sex. What else could it be? I heard him quietly grunt every few thumps. I heard nothing of her. Was it even a 'her'?

My mind tried to cross the boundary of that thin shared wall and into their room. They had to be using the bed just on the other side of the wall from ours, which placed them no more than tantalizing two or three feet away from me. My heart pounded, competing with the subtle sounds coming through the headboard. I prayed my wife wouldn't wake up and see me eavesdropping like this. I just couldn't stop myself. I had to listen.

The thumping-pausing pattern repeated itself for several minutes. I envisioned this silent woman to be on her back, her knees spread wide, her hair tousled and stuck to her forehead by sweat and splashed across the starched white pillowcase. He was on top of her, supporting himself on outstretched arms, holding her hands above her head. They stared at each other in the dim light as he methodically thrusted into her, her breasts wobbling an erotic dance beneath his chest.

As his excitement ratcheted upward, he had to pause for a few seconds at a time to regain control, his buried cock throbbing and oozing, desperate to not climax too soon. He felt her heat as he poised himself there, the gentle handshake of her slick sheath holding him, his steel pole of an erection impaling her as she squirmed around this fulcrum point, panting and anxious for him to continue. Then he renewed the deep strokes, climbing ever higher, pushing them both upward. Her mouth was open, silent, trying to suck in oxygen without making noise. His strong legs powered these long, relentless strokes that bottomed out and carried their joined weight through the mattress and bed frame and through the wall to me.

But why was she silent? I pictured a child or two in the room with them. They, like us, had waited until their children were asleep, but unlike me earlier in the evening, this man wasn't content with a slow, sensual stirring of his woman. He wanted to use his strength. He wanted to mount her, to control her, to cover her smooth body with his, to drive his sturdy, thick erection into her body and take her, to possess her, flesh and soul.

Minutes passed as this continued, and still she was silent, or at least too quiet for me to hear. As for him, I could sense his arousal growing, building. The thrusts were getting stronger, the thumping louder, and the pace ever so gradually faster. I tried to get into his mind, into his body. Into her body. I wanted to make her moan. I had to make her feel it. I needed her to acknowledge me. To be possessed. Her legs splayed wide, her hips tilted up just so, making herself open and available to his cock.

He had now lowered himself, leaning on his elbows and pressing his whole body against hers, his chest flattening her breasts. They were too close now to look into each other's eyes, but their faces were touching, breathing together in a clench of passion and lust and intertwined limbs. Her hands searched his back between his shoulder blades, her fingernails digging into his flesh, she cradled him as he quietly pistoned his hardness into her soft slickness. The tension kept rising. He could surely feel her slippery vagina yielding on each inward stroke, flesh into flesh, enveloping the curve of his erection, then clinging to his cock as he withdrew, silently begging him to shove it back into her again and again.

Harder he pounded. Faster. I was in that room with him. In that bed. Inside his woman. I knew the power that comes from driving your hardness into your lover, feeling her yielding underneath you, receiving you, welcoming you. The thumps came faster, the pauses shorter, and I knew the end for him had to be near. How long could he keep this up? I would have already surrendered to my orgasm after this many rapid, full-length strokes. He must have been right there, right on the edge, desperately trying to get her to moan just once, just to acknowledge his cock with her voice, to yield to his maleness.

Faster. Faster. He pushed her, insistently driving her, driving himself. How long could this last? I was practically panting myself, listening and imagining myself in that room. Come, baby, let it go, come for me. He began to grunt on every stroke. Then, finally, wonderfully, I heard her. A female voice gasped once, then again a few seconds later, and finally she cried out with an open-mouthed release that she could no longer stifle. Once. Twice.

I heard her orgasm. I felt her orgasm. She trembled outside with the tension of trying to keep that silence, and pulsed inside with the climax that was powered by the relentless energy of her lover's insistent body. The heat boiled out of her loins and spread throughout her as she spasmed repeatedly around this stiff flesh that had used to stretch her open and invade her core.

Now, now he had succeeded. He had made her moan, made her come. And him? Incredibly, his thrusts increased yet another notch into a flurry. The headboard now thumped, pounded, loudly. How could my wife sleep through this noise? Oh God, I begged, please keep her asleep. Let me hear him finish.

I was this man. After twenty minutes of fucking, after her climax, her vagina was silky smooth, almost frictionless, and I was searching for the friction to trigger my own orgasm. I wanted to come. I needed to come. She clenched around me, holding my cock, urged me to rise that final little distance, undulating her hips to meet mine coming down. Maybe some other nights I worked my hips in circles and stretched and grinded into her to find that friction, but not tonight. Tonight I was straight-ahead fucking. There was no subtlety now in my quest.

Harder. Ever harder. I felt the sweat on my back, my forehead. I held my breath, here it comes, here it comes, and in one last delicious thrust I almost whimpered with the relief of it finally happening as I stiffened and jammed deeply and forced myself onto her and into her. I exploded long surges of white sticky semen, grunting and gasping as I pumped into her body as she lay under me, accepting me, her vagina giving a final quiver as she felt the spreading liquid heat of my seed fill her. There was no noise except our heavy breathing, no motion except for my cock throbbing and spurting inside her body. She lay there under me, cradling me, embracing me, taking me, feeling me.

And then it was over. The thumping ceased. I heard them murmur to each other, and I could only imagine the words. Did that feel good? You really came hard. She giggled, they whispered another sentence or two, and then the bed creaked when he rolled off.

Finally, it was just silence. Silence except for my heart pounding in my chest, betraying my voyeuristic infidelity. I took my ear away from the headboard and eased down into the bed next to my wife, my back to her back. My wife grunted, rolled over, and molded herself behind me in our familiar way, finally returned to her deep sleep. My lingering excitement slowly subsided, and she brought me back home.