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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
29/09/2026
My roommate and I have thin walls. Paper thin. I-can-hear-her-sneeze-at-2am thin. So when my boyfriend comes over and we have sex she hears everything. I've always tried to be quiet about it. Pillow over my face, biting my lip, keeping it contained. Out of courtesy.
Last month she told me to stop.
We were eating breakfast and she said, casual as anything, "Hey so you don't have to be so quiet when Dylan's over" and I said "Oh god I'm sorry are we too loud," and she said "No, I mean. I like hearing it."
I put my spoon down. She was looking at her yogurt. Her cheeks were pink.
"I get off to it," she said. "The sounds you make. His voice. It's hot. I'm not trying to make it weird but I figured you should know because the quiet thing is worse, it sounds like you're suffocating."
I sat there for a solid ten seconds processing that. My roommate masturbates to the sound of me getting fucked. That should probably bother me. Instead my stomach did a warm flip and I said "okay" and she said "okay" and we went back to eating.
Dylan came over that night. And I didn't hold back. Every moan I'd been swallowing I let out. When he fucked me I let myself be loud, let the bed frame hit the wall, let my voice carry.
I came screaming into the pillow and then took the pillow away and came screaming into the open air and it was the most intense orgasm I'd had in weeks because I knew she was on the other side of that wall listening and touching herself.
The next morning she looked tired in that satisfied way. She poured my coffee without me asking. Neither of us said anything.
Now it's our thing. Dylan comes over, I'm loud, she listens. Some mornings she looks at me a certain way over breakfast and I know. And I like knowing. And the knowing makes me louder. And the louder makes her... well.
I've never been an exhibitionist before. But performing for an audience of one through a paper-thin wall three times a week might be changing that.
Last month she told me to stop.
We were eating breakfast and she said, casual as anything, "Hey so you don't have to be so quiet when Dylan's over" and I said "Oh god I'm sorry are we too loud," and she said "No, I mean. I like hearing it."
I put my spoon down. She was looking at her yogurt. Her cheeks were pink.
"I get off to it," she said. "The sounds you make. His voice. It's hot. I'm not trying to make it weird but I figured you should know because the quiet thing is worse, it sounds like you're suffocating."
I sat there for a solid ten seconds processing that. My roommate masturbates to the sound of me getting fucked. That should probably bother me. Instead my stomach did a warm flip and I said "okay" and she said "okay" and we went back to eating.
Dylan came over that night. And I didn't hold back. Every moan I'd been swallowing I let out. When he fucked me I let myself be loud, let the bed frame hit the wall, let my voice carry.
I came screaming into the pillow and then took the pillow away and came screaming into the open air and it was the most intense orgasm I'd had in weeks because I knew she was on the other side of that wall listening and touching herself.
The next morning she looked tired in that satisfied way. She poured my coffee without me asking. Neither of us said anything.
Now it's our thing. Dylan comes over, I'm loud, she listens. Some mornings she looks at me a certain way over breakfast and I know. And I like knowing. And the knowing makes me louder. And the louder makes her... well.
I've never been an exhibitionist before. But performing for an audience of one through a paper-thin wall three times a week might be changing that.
Poster:
Mullberry Sweet
