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Your place or mine?

By Chris Carr

Copyright © 05/02/2016








My insomnia unusually problematic, I lay staring at the ceiling. I get like this, sometimes tossing and turning until the early morning. I was debating on taking a sleeping pill when I heard sounds, sifting through the porous wall from next door. Strange, repetitive sounds.


My ears perking up, I slid quietly out of bed, pressing my ear to the wall. Faint but distinct, I heard bedsprings creaking, ever so slightly. The sounds forming a subtle rhythm, I pushed my ear tighter to the wall. Screech, screech, screech.

Intrigued, I stilled myself, striving to confirm what my depraved libido was already concluding.

Creak… creak… screech. Damnit, was that a moan? I couldn’t be sure, the wall not porous enough to determine.

Screech, screech, creak, the bed groaned, the sounds constant now. A tingling arising about my pelvis, I listened intently, trying to determine what I was hearing. The sounds were consistent but not loud enough to suspect a couple, caught up in the throes of love. No, this was the sound of one, gyrating ever so slightly about the bed.

Excited, I tried imagining who the phantom seducer was. I’d noticed a couple of men among the new tenants next door, neither of which I would’ve suspected a robust pud-pounding session like that I was hearing now. Could it be the sullen son, frustrated over a failed date, struggling to gain some form of relief? The image of him, naked, hips’ gyrating in the dark as he whipped his hand about his angry inches was stimulating, piquing my interest.

Maybe it was the father, his lady away, their bedroom opposite mine, unbeknownst to me? The adjoining apartment a two bedroom unit, it was hard to know which room was on the other side of the wall, leaving me with just my speculations.


Creak, creak, screech. Below the repetition, I’m certain I heard a squelched moan, the bedsprings singing along, then silence, the sounds ceasing. Returning to bed, I pulled the covers over me, my dick hard against the fabric, sleep eventually overtaking me, after some rubbing of my own





The unit north of mine vacant until a month or so ago, I’d heard nothing from it though. Until those phantom sounds. 

On an occasion, I’d seen the father, about the building. A tall, solid brother, he was cordial, returning my greeting as we passed. His head shaven, he sort of looked like a kindly Charles Barkley.

The son was tall likewise, a quiet and sullen youth who rarely spoke. While the father’s solid build was of some interest, his 20 something son’s sleek, physique was even more alluring. Imagining him naked, his slim frame damp with a sheen of perspiration as he pummeled his impatient erection was the fantasy I liked best.

I’d noticed the father in uniform a couple of times, his large brown frame filling it nicely. UPS, I believe, or maybe Fedex, the brown shorts he’d been wearing recently, an extra treat. Somewhat aroused, the next time I saw him, I had to contain myself. My neighbor to the south had had a knock down, drag ‘em out with her boyfriend the night before and it somehow came up as we chatted.

"So you called the police?"

"No, I think it was the manager," I said.

"Man, how late was that?" He towered over me, his round head shining in the afternoon sun.

"’Bout 2:00, 2:30."

"Never understood people who put all their business in the streets." He shook his head.

"People don’t understand how thin the walls in this place are. You get loud and you’re broadcasting, if not to the entire complex, for sure to your next door neighbor."

I watched his face for signs he’d caught my subtle allusion, but he seemed none the wiser, continuing on about the previous night. A quiet teen accompanying him, I hadn’t paid him much attention until after my sly comment. Idly chatting with the father, I observed the way his eyes widened and his face became strained, following my statement. Glancing periodically at the silent boy, it suddenly dawned on me, I was observing… embarrassment





Kicking myself for being so thick headed I wondered how could I have overlooked the clues? The rap, seeping through the walls, reverberating about my quiet space. Or the youth appropriate TV shows and electronic sounds of video games, escaping his room.

Nothing excited me more than a cute teen boy and, in the absence of any further phantom sounds, I was sorely disappointed. Had I known it was junior, spanking the monkey, I probably would’ve nutted up at the very suggestion. Walking slowly across the courtyard, my mind elsewhere, I glanced up, catching a glimpse of someone behind the curtains




Days passed, but no sounds from the room, opposite mine. What I wouldn’t have given for just one squeak. One sign I hadn’t blown the best voyeuristic sex I’d ever had. You gamble, you loose.

Late that following Saturday, I was busy washing clothes again. You see, I’m a bit lazy with my washing so, as a result, I end up doing several loads, once I finally give in. With each trip to the laundry to deposit more coins, or shift clothing from washer to dryer, I watched the window next door, hoping.

Basket in hand, I made another trip, opening the dryer to retrieve my whites….

Something was amiss. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but my clothes looked… abnormal.

Like… they’d been moved! Staring at the strange arrangement of underwear and sheets, I noticed a pair of shorts that looked more oddly out of place than everything else. Lifting them carefully from the pile, I got a sudden whiff of…

My eyes bulging, I suddenly realized what I not only was smelling, but now observing. Stains… cum stains were on my clean white briefs! Warm stains, that looked fresh, like they’d just been deposited minutes ago. Shaken, I jerked around, expecting to see someone in the door. The light from the laundry room casting a glow in its wake, my shadow startled me again but, all was quiet


Shaking the wrinkles from my next load of clothes, a small paper fell out, gently floating to the laundry room floor. You know, I keep this up and I’m going to need a pacemaker, I thought, my heart thundering again as I picked it up.


Meet me here tonight, 2:00 a.m.

He had to be kidding


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