Grizzwife and I moved into an apartment after transferring to Ohio. Two very attractive women shared the two-bedroom apartment above ours.
At all hours, we’d hear
“squeeeeeka-squeeeeeka-squeeeeeka-squeeeeeka-squeeeeeka… squeekasqueekasqueekasqueeka”.
You know… bedsprings!
Not terribly loud, but just loud enough to hear pretty well if one kept quiet.
But no moaning, groaning, or other voice-type stuff.
Just the squeakings.
In the morning, afternoon, evening, 2am, 9am, 12noon…all hours!
Grizzwife and I would giggle and laugh. “Wonder which one has her boyfirend over?” giggle/snort
Then we began to wonder if they could be lesbians.
Of course, you know, I have a typical male mind. NOW I popped major wood when the bedsprings started, just with the mental image of those two hotties going at it.
Then, my bubble burst…
I was carrying in groceries one day and heard the familiar squeaking coming from their open window.
So…I looked up.
And I could see one of the roommates, all sweaty and panting…
On her stairmaster.
Uh, you forgot to mention the creepy feeling that you get when you come down for breakfast in the morning and you know the reason for both of your parents overly chipper disposition.
Another story comes from when I was at a get together at a friends house. Some were just hanging out inside. A couple people were outside smoking weed. One of my (high) friends came in with his girlfriend and they proceeded to the basement. Another friend and I were just sitting in the living room watching TV (and the volume was pretty high). Then we started hearing a lot of moaning and groaning coming through the floor. A particularly funny moan, that was really hard to describe, signaled the end. It almost sounded like he was shivering from cold or something, I don’t know. Then it was real funny seeing him coming up stairs all stoned with his girlfriend and trying to play it off like everything was normal. It might have worked if he would have gotten rid of his stupid grin.
Yeah, the threesome upstairs in a college apartment bldg. One of the women shared a room with a guy, the other girl was in a single. The couple made all the requisite noises (hearing them made us hornier). One night during their particularly noisy sex, we heard loud footsteps from the single room to the double – and heard much more moaning than ever before. There were many more nights like that. The boyfriend thought we should charge admission.
Well, all these stories are great, but I’d just like to say that with this last story Coldfire told, his previous story about the duck that got strangled, and his “auto racing chicken” story, if he ever has a movie made of his life, I for one would pay to see it.
Well, there was the time years ago that we spent too little money on the motel when out of town. Between the episodes of bouncing and grunting sounds from the next room, there was this female voice telling the grunter she was “still a virgin at heart” and she thought of herself as “getting married every night”.
Well, I take back the part about spending “too little money”, actually - we’re still snickering about it.
Oh yeah, student living’ll do it for ya every time.
I lived in a grungy three-story Victorian terraced house in north London with 7 other students, one of whom was a Polish guy called Marrick (sp?). He had the bedroom next to mine and a 17 year old blonde, vivacious girlfriend. They liked to shag. They shagged for hours in a variety of interesting and intricate ways. Loudly. Marrick was an “Oh god!”-er and she was an “Uh uh uh”-er. They left empty condom packets in the kitchen, i walked in on her kneeling before him while he hurriedly struggled with his zip in the living room, we once came home to discover the dining table upended although we couldn’t think why. Marrick also felt the need to show me his priest outfit once too. Interesting.
One evening they had had quite a bit to drink and were being even more vocal than usual. You could hear them from every room in the the house and John, whose room was on the third floor, got thoroughly fed up and marched downstrairs, banged on Marrick’s door and shouted at them to “Just shut up, some of us are trying to sleep”. They quietened down for a while but were soon obviously enjoying themselves again and I, being the polite soul that i am, decided to write them a note to advise them that they were being more than a little embarressing. So, i wrote the note, slipped it under his door, knocked lightly and retreated to my room. I came out 5 minutes later to find a return note explaining that they were sorry but they were enjoying themselves. What can you say to that? So i left them to it, reasoning that we should all be so lucky to have such exciting sex lives.
During my late teens and early twenties I was a screamer. I went like a bog door in a storm, only louder. I had no sense of aural propriety whatsoever.
I’d like to publically apologise to anyone living in the city of Cambridge between 1993 and 1997. I’m very, very sorry.
Well, I’ll contribute, but it’s not as ahem colorful as some of the earlier ones.
I was on vacation, taking a one-man roadtrip across America (from Los Angeles to Louisiana and back, anyway). I pulled into Tuscon AZ on the first night, and – since I wanted to improvise the trip and didn’t make any reservations – had to hunt around for a motel room, since there was some major convention in town.
I eventually managed to find a cheap room in a broken-down fleabag motel, easily a disgusting place that No Sane Person would stay in if they had a choice. Since I didn’t, I soldiered through and made the most of it, catching a shower, reading a little, then settling down for a sleep.
Then, through the paper-thin walls, I heard it. Thumpa … thumpa … thumpa … thumpa … thumpa. Not very noisy, but distracting as heck, and the girl’s throaty moans didn’t make it any easier to ignore.
It ends after about twenty minutes. The two chat quietly for a bit, then there’s a door slam, and it gets all quiet again. Being bored silly, I considered going outside and asking her if she wanted to ahem turn another trick, but decided against it and went to sleep instead.
I can do even better than the apartment next door. How about the next stall over in a fitting room at Boscov’s (a department store in PA)?
A few years back, my friend and I went into the fitting room at Boscov’s to try on some tops we wanted to buy. We were in there for a few minutes when we heard the stall next to mine open and close. A girl started talking to someone, asking if her shirt fit alright. We heard a male voice respond. No big deal, right? Just two people in a fitting room together. This went on for maybe ten minutes or so. Then the questions turned to laughter, which then turned into moaning - loud moaning. It was obvious as to what they were doing.
My friend and I did not sit idly by, no way. The situation was just way too funny not to say anything.
So my friend piped up really loudly, almost yelling “Gee. I wonder what they’re doing over there.” I almost died of laughter.
How about the office next door? I was at work late one night, and once things quieted down I heard a couple doing the horizontal bop, clear as day through the vents. Fortunately it was in the company next door, not two of my coworkers.
Like some others here, I, too, have to apologize for any inconvenience my SO and I may have caused during the past year or so. I live in an apartment (after 15 years of having my own house) and we know to keep the vocal stuff down when we’re at my home, but if we’re at her house, which is on 6 acres in the middle of absolute nowhere VA then forget it - we’re going to have our say, as it were.
Well, we moved into an apartment less than 48 hours after our wedding. We didn’t have a honeymoon. They were really cheap apartments in a good neighborhood, I was very lucky to find them. The bathroom of our apartment was opposite the wall of the bathroom of next door and same with the bedroom.
Then less than a year later our next door neighbor got a very, shall we say “vocal” steady girlfriend. I mean we could hear them just talking at a normal tone because of the thin walls and then she was also loud during the act. Hubby and I just looked at each other with wide eyes and one of said, “I didn’t know these walls were that thin.” Did we complain? No way! Not after what he had been putting up with for months. Sometimes we’d have guests and we’d have our bedroom door shut and our guests would still ask what that noise was. We’d just explain that it was Mr. A-9’s girlfriend and turn up the stereo.
I met Mrs. FA in college. Her apartment was way across town, and my dorm was right on campus. As a result, we’d often adjourn there for intimate encounters, particularly since I didn’t have a roommate at the time.
Well, she’s amazingly vocal, and I’m not exactly quiet. The dorm was built in the '30s, if I remember right, and a single large pipe traversed the entire floor.
I’d gotten knowing looks from some of the guys on my floor a few times, but thought of it of just one of the hazards to be dealt with. The gods alone know how many times I’d heard one of them or their girlfriends in a similar situation.
One night, though, around 9 or so, I was heading down to the vending machine to get us a couple of sodas afterward. I stepped out into the hall in my bathrobe, and there was the ENTIRE floor (about 30 guys in all). Each guy was holding up a scorecard, hooting and cheering as I walked down the hall.
Apparently, they were operating under the delusion I was going to be embarrassed. Heck, I might have been had our overall score not averaged 9.8. (Damn Romanian judge…)
The “room” I was living in was in the process of being converted from a living room, so in place of a wall it had a curtain. My housemate’s room had a slatted wooden door. Thus, I very clearly heard
Male: “I could come right now.”
Female: “I want you to…Don’t hold back!”
A little later, I heard
Male: “Here, wear my bathrobe.”
Female: “But I’ll get come all over it…don’t you have a towel?”
I threw a roll of TP at their door in an attempt to avert further TMI.
The cinematic aural-voyeur scene that comes to mind was in the film Mystery Train. In the fleabag hotel. The Japanese couple humping and moaning. In the next room, the blonde says to the Italian woman, “They’re doing it!”
Then in James Joyce’s Ulysses there was Molly Bloom and her jingly bed.
During my freshman year in college, I had a roommate whose girlfriend used to sleep in our room most nights. It didn’t bother me that much, because I was on the top bunk and didn’t have to deal with it, and they generally only engaged in their activities when I was out of the room. One night, tho, I awoke thinking that there was an earthquake (this is California, doncha know), but pretty soon I realized that “Floyd” and “Vicki” were rockin’ the hell out of our bunk bed. I lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, wondering what the hell I was going to do. Finally, when my patience was gone, I yelled, “Dammit, Floyd, come already…I want to get back to sleep.” Miraculously, the earthquake stopped immediately, and it was several days before Vicki would look me in the face.
When we were in Vegas a couple of months ago, I swear I heard a steady thumpa-thumpa-thumpa, accompanied by a slightly whiny “Uh! Uh! Uh!”, coming <snicker> from the room next door. None of my friends heard it, but it was at around 1am and they were near comatose. I was awake because I am an insomniac. Lucky me.
Our upstairs neighbors used to go at it every night. We live in a townhouse. There are two bedrooms in each unit, and they share a wall. If the beds in both bedrooms in both the upstairs and downstairs units are against this wall, then everybody in the three other bedrooms can hear what you’re doing in bed.
Of course, it was obvious anyway; the wife was a screamer. I was about eight years old at the time, and the first time I heard her, I thought she was being murdered up there.
