I Heard My Girlfriend Pleasuring Herself Alone from the Living Room

It all started because a game had gone on far too long. Camila had gone to bed after midnight, with a quick kiss on my forehead and that tired smile she wore when she was fed up with waiting for me. I told her I’d be up in ten minutes and, as always, I lied. There was an entire horde of zombies on the screen that wasn’t going to kill itself, and the controller felt as though it had a life of its own in my hands.

The only noise in the living room was the hum of the console fans and the occasional shot muffled by my headset. The rest of the apartment was silent, wrapped in the thick silence of the early morning. Cold May air came through the half-open window, along with the distant purr of some stray car.

That was when I heard it.

A rustle. Barely a whisper of sheets on the other side of the wall. At first I thought Camila had turned over in bed, as she always did, looking for the cool spot on the pillow. I lowered the television’s volume and kept playing. But the rustle came again. Longer. More rhythmic. And behind it, another smaller, more intimate sound that made me stop the controller dead.

A muffled moan.

No fucking way.

I shut off the console with one swipe. The living room went black and fell into such perfect silence that I could count the beats of my heart. I sat motionless on the sofa, holding my breath, straining my ear toward the air like an idiot. The next moan came more clearly. Then another. And another. Camila was on the other side of the wall, fucking herself without making too much noise, still thinking I was lost in the game, with no idea that I could hear her.

I got hard before I even realized it. My pajama pants suddenly grew tight, and I felt my cock jerk against the fabric. I pulled it out without thinking, my mouth dry, and wrapped my hand around it slowly. It was hot and swollen, the tip already wet. A single stroke made a gasp escape me, and I had to bite it back so I wouldn’t give myself away.

I pictured her perfectly. Camila on her back, her panties pushed to one side, her right hand between her legs, her index and middle fingers inside her. Fucking herself with two fingers, that smooth, tight pussy I knew by heart, her thumb drawing circles over her clit, wet all the way to her groin. Her other hand roaming over her tits, pinching her nipples until they were hard as beads.

Her moans began to rise. They were no longer muffled. They were short and hoarse, with a tight ending, as though she had her mouth pressed into the pillow so she wouldn’t wake anyone. And beneath her voice came that other unmistakable sound: the light, obscene squelch of her fingers sliding in and out of a soaked pussy.

I shoved a fist into my mouth and kept stroking myself on the sofa. Slowly, almost in slow motion, my head tilted toward the wall as I stole her orgasm like a thief. Every moan sent a jolt up my spine. I imagined her switching hands, pushing her middle finger in to the knuckle, searching for the spot that drove her wild, arching her hips against her own palm.

“Fuck…” I heard her murmur, very softly, as though it had slipped out.

I nearly came right there. I slowed my rhythm, squeezing the base of my cock to hold back. I wanted to come with her. I wanted to explode when she did.

The next few minutes were a beautiful torture. The squelching sped up. Her moans piled one over another, growing higher and higher, and then, all at once, they were swallowed by one long, muffled, almost painful gasp that stretched until it faded into a sigh. She came. She came alone in her bed, without knowing I was listening, and at the same time a hot lash escaped me, splattering my hand, my pajama pants, and the cushion of the sofa.

I stayed like that for a while, my cock dripping and both of us panting in unison through the wall. Then I cleaned myself with a tissue from the side table, pulled up my pants, and stared down the dark hallway. The bedroom door was ajar. A strip of warm light spilled through the opening.

***

When I entered the bedroom, Camila was lying on her back, half uncovered, her legs barely parted and a damp green thong between them. She was pretending to sleep. I knew because the corner of her mouth trembled as she held back a smile, and because her cheeks were burning as though she had just come down from heaven. I closed the door with the latch and moved silently toward the bed.

“How was the game?” she murmured without opening her eyes.

“Good,” I said, taking off my pants. “The ending was very interesting.”

She opened one eye. Then the other. And the smile she had been saving for me for months spread across her face.

“How long have you been listening?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Long enough,” I replied, tossing my pants onto the floor.

“You bastard,” she whispered, delighted.

I climbed onto the bed on my knees, between her thighs, and ripped off her thong with a single tug to one side. The elastic snapped, and she let out a low laugh that turned into a moan when I spread her legs wide. She was glistening. Her thighs, her lips, everything. A sticky trail ran from her groin onto the sheet.

“Look at me,” I said, and bent down.

I ran my whole tongue over her pussy, from bottom to top, slowly, as if I were savoring something forbidden. Camila arched her back and grabbed my hair with both hands.

“God, yes…” she gasped.

I licked her thoroughly. I took my time. I licked her swollen lips, one by one, pushed my tongue as deep as I could, then pulled it out and returned to her clit, that swollen little pearl already on the verge. I drew circles with the tip and then flattened it with my whole tongue, without mercy, while I slid two fingers inside her and curled my fingertips against the spot I knew by heart. She writhed. She clamped her thighs around my head and pushed me down with her hips.

“I’m going to come again, fuck, I’m going to come again,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

I didn’t let her. I pulled out my fingers and lifted my mouth away at the last second. Camila opened her eyes, furious, her cheeks red and her chest rising and falling.

“You’re a son of a bitch,” she said hoarsely.

“I know,” I said, climbing over her.

I took hold of my cock and ran it over her lips, up and down, coating it in her own wetness. She tried to raise her hips and take me all the way in at once, but I held her back with my hand.

“Ask me for it,” I whispered against her ear.

“Fuck me,” she said immediately. “Fuck me now, please, fuck me already.”

I drove all the way inside her in a single thrust. Camila cried out against my neck, the cry breaking in her throat and turning into a long gasp when I began to move. She was so wet you could hear it. Every thrust made an obscene, wet sound, and it was the perfect soundtrack to the silence at three-thirty in the morning.

“Like that, like that, like that,” she repeated, digging her nails into my back.

I fucked her hard. Without tenderness. The way I had wanted to fuck her for half an hour. I bit her neck, licked the hollow of her collarbone, grabbed one whole tit in my hand and pinched her nipple while I kept driving my cock deep inside her. She wrapped her legs behind my ass and met me with her hips, rising to receive me with every downward thrust.

“Get on all fours,” I told her, pulling out suddenly.

She turned over without protest, her hair tousled and that expression of desire on her face that I hadn’t seen in ages. I grabbed her hips with both hands and pushed back inside, even deeper this time, until I was grinding against her ass. Camila buried her face in the pillow so she wouldn’t wake the neighbors.

“Don’t muffle yourself,” I told her, pulling her head back by her hair. “I want to hear you just like I heard you from the living room.”

She moaned loudly. Really loudly. And I fucked her to the rhythm of those moans, driving her ass against me with every thrust, watching her shoulder blades stand out and her waist tense. I reached around her and began rubbing her clit with two fingers without stopping my cock from pounding into her.

“Oh… oh… oh, I’m coming…” she began to repeat, faster and higher each time.

“Come,” I ordered her. “Come with me inside you.”

Camila came three or four seconds later. Her whole body turned into a tremor. Her pussy clenched around my cock like a fist, and that wet, hot, savage contraction dragged me over the edge too. I came inside her with a muffled growl, pressing her into the pillow, emptying myself to the last drop while she continued trembling, panting, and laughing softly.

We collapsed onto our sides, still joined. My chest pressed against her back, her hand reaching over to find mine. We stayed like that, breathing hard, listening as the house fell silent again.

“Bastard,” she repeated, half-asleep and half-laughing. “Next time, warn me.”

“No,” I said, kissing her shoulder. “Next time, I’m going to listen too.”

And she smiled with her eyes closed. I had never seen her smile like that. As my own eyes began to close and the semen cooled between her thighs, I knew that the wall separating us by only a few yards would never be the same again.