I woke up to a dull thudding sound from somewhere outside. Oh shit. That damn neighbor was at it again. I looked at my clock and saw that it was 9am. My wife Laura groaned next to me. We both work for ourselves and we like to sleep late. But this one guy in our apartment building insists on loudly banging his garbage bin against the dumpster when he empties it each morning.
Laura jumped out of bed in frustration and ran to the window in the skimpy wifebeater that she wears for pajamas when the weather is warm. She yanked open the window and and leaned out to shout down to the courtyard where the dumpster sat.
“Can you please not bang your garbage can like that?” she screamed. “We’ve asked you before about that. We are trying to sleep up here!”
“Shit, put some damn clothes on, you whore,” called back our obnoxious next door neighbor, John. “Your fucking udders are hanging out!”
My wife looked down to realize that her cleavage was fully exposed by her low cut top as she hung out the window and she reddened as she clutched her hand to her chest. “That’s so rude! How dare you!”
“Rude and inaccurate,” I told her, leaning up on one elbow as I watched from the bed. “How any straight man could call those luscious orbs udders is beyond me.”
“You aren’t helping,” my wife hissed at me. She was trying to hold her boisterous boobs in place with both hands. It was fascinating to watch. I got up to join my wife at the window.
“You are one to talk,” she shouted back at our neighbor down in the courtyard. “Look at you in your boxer shorts! You are half naked yourself.”
“I got my privates covered.” The jerk gripped his crotch lewdly. John was a small guy but pretty muscular in a wiry way and he seemed to like showing off his physique.
“Can you people shut the fuck up?” shouted the punk rocker from up in #303. “I’m trying to fucking sleep up here.”
“Get a job, loser!” replied John with a sneer. “Maybe if you got up earlier you could get an interview.”
“I work the nightshift, asshat,” snapped the punk with his head out the window. He ran his hand through his green mohawk, now in flaccid disarray and not standing proudly at attention as it usually did. “So go fuck yourself and shut the fuck up down there with all the shouting.” The punk slammed his window shut.
“Uh, yeah, what HE said,” called Laura before carefully shutting our own window. “The nerve of that guy,” she fumed. “Calling me a whore on top of everything.”
“He’s an asshole, that’s for sure,” I agreed, climbing back into bed.
“I’ve complained to Sharon many times, but she just says that the noise rule only applies from 11pm to 7am,” sighed my wife. She crawled back into bed to snuggle against me. Then she snorted suddenly, “Udders! The nerve!”
“I like your udders,” I whispered in Laura’s soft little ear as I gripped one of them from behind.
“Stop calling them that,” she giggled. Then we fooled around a little and fell back to sleep.
***
“Ugh, look at those skanky whores he’s always dating,” said Laura the next evening. She was peering out the window as John and his latest girlfriend walked up the to building together. As usual, John had a good looking blonde on his arm. As usual, she was dressed like a stripper in a too short dress that was too tight to be classy and teetering on too high heels. “And those skanks are always stinking up the hallway with their cheap perfume, it’s disgusting!” said Laura.
“Try to think of something more pleasant, dear,” I said blandly as I checked out the body on John’s latest conquest. She had tits and ass and a skinny waist and I was starting to get a boner so I cautiously backed away from the window before my wife noticed my arousal. She would get so mad if she saw me getting hot for one of John’s sluts.
“Ugh, that guy just makes me so mad!” said my cute little wife. She stamped her foot in frustration and was clenching her fists. Then she noticed me trying to cover my crotch to hide my erection. “Hey, wait a minute!” She reached out and pulled my hand aside to see the bulge in my pants. “Dammit, you’ve got a hardon! Do guys really like sluts who walk around with their legs and boobies hanging out like that? It’s so TRASHY!”
“Oh, no, no,” I said, waving my hands back and forth. “Guy like nice classy ladies.”
“Very funny, smart guy.” Laura walked over to look at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a button down blouse with khakis like she normally did. “Would you like me better if I showed off more skin?” she asked in a small voice. I could tell she was feeling insecure.
“Aw, come on baby, you look beautiful no matter how you dress,” I said. I rushed over and hugged my wife to console her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Laura received the kiss with equanimity, but she still seemed distressed. “Anyway, I just hate that guy John and I wish he would move out.”
“You sure seem fixated on this guy John,” I said, giving her a sly grin.
Laura glanced at me in confusion and then blushed when she realized what I was hinting at. “Gah, gross! I am NOT fixated on him, he annoys the hell out of me. He’s always banging his garbage bin in the morning, bringing around stinky whores, and generally bringing down the class level of the entire apartment building.”
“Ok, whatever,” I relented, turning back to my kindle book. But I harbored a sneaky suspicion about my wife’s feud with our rude neighbor.
About a half-hour later, Laura stormed into the living room, lividly angry. “Jimmy, Jimmy, come into the bedroom. It’s SO disgusting, I can hear John fucking that tart he just brought in through our bedroom wall.”
I just laughed good naturedly. “Ha, ha, yeah, I think I’ve heard that before. His bed must be right up against the other side of that wall.”
“It’s not funny, Jimmy, it’s repulsive. Can’t people be more considerate when they are having sex? Why advertise it for the whole building to hear?”
“Come on, Laura,” I chuckled. “Be reasonable. People need to live their lives, after all.”
“Still, you have to think about your neighbors,” insisted my wife. She stamped her foot again. “I’m going to go pound on the wall,” she blurted.
“Now hold on, that’s not fair,” I complained. But my wife had dashed off to the bedroom, so I jumped up to follow her.
When I got to the bedroom, my wife was standing close to the wall, listening intently. Sure enough, I could hear a rhythmic tap-tapping of a bed frame against the wall. I could also just make out a woman’s moans of pleasure and occasionally a guttural grunt from John.
“It’s not actually THAT loud,” I said. “I mean we can tell they are having fun, but you don’t have to listen to it if you come out to the living room.”
“Having fun!” spat my wife. “She’s probably faking it. Anyway, I don’t want to hear my neighbor’s coitus. It’s GROSS.” Laura pounded suddenly on the wall, making me jump. “Quiet down over there! We can hear you!” she shouted.
The tapping against the wall did cease for a moment and I nearly broke out in a cold sweat of embarrassment. But then I heard some muffled laughter and the tapping suddenly resumed with renewed vigor, louder and more insistent than ever and the woman’s cries became even MORE plaintive. Laura kicked the wall in resentment and stormed out of the room. I stayed and listened to John fucking his girlfriend for a few minutes. It was kind of hot, actually. In fact, I was about to unzip and start fapping as I listened, but my wife called me back to the living room.
“You really need to calm down about John. You are acting like a jealous lover.” I wagged my eyebrows lewdly at my wife.
“Oh my god, I will KILL you for suggesting that!” Laura’s face reddening as she launched a couch pillow at my head.
I deflected the inbound missile and then there was a knock at the door, which was pretty unusual.
“Must be one of the neighbors,” said Laura, getting up to check the door. She peeked through the peephole. “Oh shit, it’s John,” she said. She put her back to the door and stared at me with fear.
“Well, you better answer I,” I said grimly. “If you act out and throw a hissy fit against the wall, you are going to have to face the music.”
“Ugh,” sighed my wife and then she opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.
John was standing there in nothing but a towel, his hair plastered to his head as though he had just jumped from the shower. “What’s with you, woman? Why are you pounding on the wall while I’m spending time with my lady friend?”
“You were being pretty loud. Don’t you have any consideration for your neighbors?” asked my wife. I peeked around the corner to watch the interaction and I noticed Laura looking down at the bulge jutting from the front of the towel John had wrapped around his waist.
He noticed her looking too, and reached his hand into his towel to grip his dong rudely. “What’s the matter, you wish it was you helping me work the bed springs?” he asked with a wicked grin. “Ain’t gonna happen, sister. At least not if you keep acting like such a bitch all the time.”
“You insufferable PRICK!” shouted my wife in fury. “I can’t believe you think you can talk to me that way!” Laura slammed the door in John’s face and turned to face me, livid with anger. “Did you see that filthy pig touching himself like that? The very idea!”
“You were checking out his package,” I laughed. “I saw you.”
“His vulgar thing was poking out, of course I glanced down,” stammered my wife. “He, he should have put some goddamn pants on before leaving his house, like any normal human being would do.” Laura paced around the room, fanning her face with her hands, trying to calm herself down. She really seemed worked up over the whole thing. I was starting to suspect that she might really have some suppressed desire to grudge fuck John and the idea kind of turned me on. Not that I ever thought she would follow through with it.
But I started to give the idea more credence when my wife suddenly decided to bleach her hair blonde the following day. She had been a brunette for as long as I knew her and had never experimented with coloring her hair before.
“What do you think?” she asked me when she got back from the salon.
“Looks nice,” I said. Then a thought occurred to me. “Your boyfriend John will like it, he’s into blondes I noticed.”
Laura punched my arm with surprising ferocity, making me jump and rub my poor shoulder ruefully. “You pig!” she shouted. “Don’t even JOKE about that. I was, I was, just trying to cover a little gray hair that was starting to show. I, I wouldn’t EVER let that creepy jerk lay a finger on me!”
“Ha, ha, whatever you say, baby, whatever you say,” I said, shaking my head. “Go on and get ready, let’s head out to dinner.”
