Aural Sex

It started with the muffled giggles wafting through the wall and I knew that I was in for an hour of unintentional voyeurism.  It was always the same when The Bloke from the next-door flat brought home his latest conquest.  It was a different one each week.  How did he do it?  Here I am - the right side of twenty-five, single, willing and able, yet in bed before eleven rather than tripping through the streets in town in ill-fitting stilettos and a skimpy dress.  All my mates had other plans or dates of their own tonight.   Where was I going wrong?

The muted sounds of a creaking bed could be heard, several times, as the bodies moved around.  I tried to imagine what they were doing –undressing each other, exploring, kissing, touching, stroking...  I could hear the stifled moans of rising passion.  I couldn’t work out who it was as first but it soon became clear that it was her – she was calling out, repeating his name over and over.  I started to feel a mixture of embarrassment and surprisingly turned on.  My hand drifted down to the top of my leg and I bit my bottom lip.  I stopped myself.  There was no way I could do that here and now – not listening to him.  How would I be able to look him in the face tomorrow?  I turned on my side, covered my head with the duvet and forcibly stopped myself from moving in time with the more rhythmic sounds of the throes of passionate sex that could be heard now.  It seemed to go on forever, but it could only have been a few minutes.  I heard muted cries and obviously concealed grunts then one almighty expressive groan – from him!  Thank god for that.  Time for sleep.

The next day, as I was leaving the house to go to the shop, I saw The Bloke seeing her off.  He looked over at me and winked.  Did he know I could hear him each week?  Was it all a show for me?

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I have written this for the Writing Workshop that is  run by Josie at Sleep Is For The Weak.  This week was Workshop #28 and I have taken my cue from prompt #1 - write about a time when you felt sexy, completely comfortable in your own skin.  This is a completely fictional story and my first attempt at writing something within this subject matter.  I also Googled the title I have chosen (I thought I was being witty...) to see if it had been used in any other forms of writing and found an entry in the Urban Dictionary.  Let's just say that I definitely hadn't considered *that* definition when composing this piece!! 
You can find all the other Workshop posts >>> here <<<

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Edited to add:
Remember my "Two Sides To Every Story" piece that I wrote for the workshop a few weeks ago?  I submitted it to The Pygmy Giant - an online home for UK flash fiction, poetry, etc (under 800 words normally) and they have published it on the site.  Yay me!!