With my ear pressed firmly against the wall, I could hear a woman calling out “Fuck yeah, harder!” “Yeah baby, just like that!” The expression on my squished face could best be described as an amalgamation of amused, disturbed and voyeuristic. I considered rubbing one out real quick (I mean, c‘mon, it‘s free porn), but I didn’t like how I could only hear the woman’s voice and, to be honest, my neighbor seemed like kind of a choch bag.
I had just met my new neighbor Jake two days previous, and smoked a bowl with him one day previous… which had seemed promising. It had taken the maintenance team more than a month to completely renovate the crack head hoarder’s apartment, and I was relieved to find that my new neighbor seemed normal. However, during our smoke session he had waved a few red flags: 1. He said he had sold Buffalo Exchange a bunch of Ed Hardy t-shirts; 2. He kept bringing up this older woman who was trying to tie him down; 3. He didn’t have a fucking bed.
I listened to Jake fucking this woman — or this woman being fucked be Jake — for about five minutes. Then the woman who Jake had the day previous described as “35-year-old,” “blonde,” “wants me to move in with her“) shouted out an encouraging “Fuck me like you mean it!” and I busted out laughing — a guffaw I could not suppress.
While I’m sure this was said amid a moment of passion, and/or a seemingly convincing yet over-played fake orgasm, it isn’t necessarily a testimonial to someone’s dick giving abilities. When I heard her shout this out, what I really heard was, “No, seriously though, fuck me like you mean it. Please? Would you mind? Is it even in there yet? Can you try to fuck me like you mean it? I mean, I came all the way over here to fuck you on this mat on your dirty floor that was once lived in by a crack head hoarder. The least you can do is fuck me like you mean it.”
At that point, I decided to be a complete creep and tap slowly and purposefully on the wall, so they would know I was listening. It was around this time I heard him smack her ass through the wall (and/or one hell of a ball smack,) and it echoed outside the door of my apartment. I tip-toed to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, undid the chain, and slowly cracked open the door, peeking out as if I was scared to see them fucking right there with the door open (it was that loud). It sounded like they were filming a porno in the hallway and broadcasting it in stereo. I could hear every move they made and the images in my mind were quite graphic: an ass slap here, a deep throat there, and more commands from the cougar.
The funniest part, to me, was that I knew this guy didn’t own a bed yet and had been sleeping on a camping mat for the past week (he did own a ginormous “$200” mirror and a barber chair, I should note). I could just imagine this woman on all fours and screaming directly toward my wall. I mean, I know a bed isn’t required for sex, but in my opinion, if the person you are fucking cannot afford a bed, you shouldn’t be fucking said person. It’s a fucking bed. That should be right in there with the basic necessities of food, water, shelter and oxygen. No bed is a deal breaker, you must at least have the option (and please note: a case of “mattress on the floor” comes in as a close second.)
Next time I hear the cougar in action, which I really hope is never, I intend to blast the most annoying, dick-limpening music possible with my speakers turned toward Jake’s wall. If that doesn’t muffle the shouts, I guess I’ll have to call someone over to try and out fuck them. I’ll post a sign up sheet outside my building.