Listening (Erotic Story Excerpt)

After a while, she wants to find out what’s going on in his bed….

“What’s he doing home? Doesn’t he work?” I wondered, annoyed that even on my mental health days, I had to be exposed to his brand of asininity.

First I was cross. Then I was curious. “What is he doing home? Why is he talking so loud?”

I tiptoed out of bed, even though I knew he couldn’t hear my footsteps across the room — the paper that separated our apartments wasn’t that thin — and planted my ear on the wall. I could only make out sporadic words here and there — tonight, baby, hot, moan — that didn’t give the full picture, but painted enough of an outline for me to color in the rest. He definitely had another rendezvous planned.

I should have taken that news with a sense of dread, but I wasn’t entirely as annoyed as I thought I’d be. Maybe I was used to it. Maybe having time off from work had improved my mood.

Or maybe something else was going on….

They laughed. They watched television. I sat in my chair with my ear firmly planted against the wall, trying to figure them out. Then the moaning started. And the screams. And the banging of the headboard that sounded like a thunderous thump, thump, thumping in my ear. Instead of getting angry and annoyed, I was intrigued. I started to feel a strange sense of fascination toward that man…and the caravan of women who were costars in his live sex show.

I started listening more and more. At first it only amounted to a couple of minutes here and there throughout the day. Then it totaled an hour. Then two. Then three. Then more.

I wanted to be more than just a fly on the wall — I wanted to participate….

At first it was hard to make out what he was talking about throughout the day, but when I started pressing my ear up against a glass I put on the wall, I found it made the listening easier. I learned that he was a self-employed computer programmer who worked out of his apartment. Sometimes I would hear him in meetings with his clients. Sometimes he would call his mother or brother. And then, the other times, he was talking to the women, coaxing them into coming over late at night to star in his personal pornos.

It got to the point where I started to look forward to those visits…and look forward to the sex.

I didn’t know what time it was going to begin that night, but I knew I wanted to be ready for it. I wanted to listen, but I also wanted to be more than just a fly on the wall — I wanted to participate, like an invisible part of a threesome that only I knew about. I wanted to seduce, and be seduced, through the paper thin walls that separated us. I even dressed in lingerie and laid on the floor, waiting for the sounds of sex that had once annoyed, and now thrilled, me. There was something about James that had started to absolutely fascinate me. Maybe it was the conga line of women who did their naked dance in his bedroom. Maybe it was the stamina that allowed him to make animalistic love to them night after night after night. Maybe it was what I imagined his technique was like — after all, he was pleasuring numerous women to the point where they couldn’t contain their ecstasy, thin walls and sleeping neighbors be damned.

While thinking about the show that was soon to come, I turned off all the lights and propped my body against the wall that separated our bedrooms. I rubbed my pussy and swiveled my hips on my hardwood floor, thinking about what was going to happen next door and how much it would turn me on.

I wanted to seduce, and be seduced, through the paper thin walls that separated us.

The nightly sex session didn’t disappoint. When I heard the voices next door, I sprang up and planted my ear against the wall, trying to decipher what they were talking about. I heard laughing, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. After a couple of minutes, I heard a familiar, squeaking noise against the wall, which I imagined was the bed creaking as they furiously humped each other on it.

My pussy got wet with anticipation. I spread my legs wide and started rubbing myself slowly. My clit tingled — as if it just woke up from a long nap — and was hot and bothered and longing for attention. I closed my eyes and imagined what was going on next door. Was he ramming his hard rod deep inside her cunt? Was she sucking his cock until come shot into her mouth?

I heard some moaning and grunting through the walls. I slipped two fingers in my pussy, careful not to bang my head against the wall and alert them that I was listening. As the pandemonium of their passion got louder, I quickened the pace of my pleasure, rapidly jamming my fingers in and out of my wetness. I exploded as the headboard started banging against the wall. My warm cream slowly dripped into my hand. I laid back down on the floor and watched my tits heave up and down with the rhythm of the thunderous thumps. My body tingled as the cool, night air surrounded me and clung to my skin.

I exploded as the headboard started banging against the wall.

The next thing I knew, the morning sun was shining on my face. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep there. I couldn’t believe how things had changed in just a few short days. But even though I was enjoying the sounds of the listening, it didn’t solve the problem. I was still tired all the time. The listening consumed me, as if I had to do it. And when I wasn’t doing it, I experienced some sort of kinky withdrawal that depleted me completely.

This wasn’t going to help me sleep, and it certainly wasn’t going to help me keep my job. How was I supposed to go back to work when I needed to listen to him? This obsession was starting to take over my life.

Want to find out exactly where Janet’s obsession takes her? Check out Listening for the rest of the story.

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