Living in an apartment complex means a reduced amount of privacy overall. Especially where the balcony is concerned. I’ve often wished for more privacy there, more seclusion, but sometimes the lack of it proves exciting. The apartment on the other side of us is a mirror image, and so our balconies share a wall – the 2-foot wide brick wall separates the balconies from building wall to railing and at least affords complete visual privacy from the balconies in one’s own building. But since we’re visible to 4 other buildings and a portion of the parking lot below, I don’t ever notice many people using their balconies in the warmer months.
We had a rogue very warm day in late fall, a few months ago, the lovely sort that occurs after leaves have fallen and bugs have started hibernation. Evening became night as I reclined on the balcony, reading, but I was so comfortable that I strained to continue reading with no more light than that coming from the sliding glass door behind my head. I heard the noisy, squeaky screen door open and shut on the other side of the brick wall but I paid no mind. I didn’t expect whoever it was to stay out there. But then I heard the muffled, hushed tones of a couple talking and laughing. I tried (of course) to eavesdrop but I couldn’t make anything out. I blocked it out until it changed – to mostly silence punctuated by a random giggle.
I lowered my book to my lap and focused on listening, trying to figure out what I was hearing.
I heard their kissing become more passionate and insistent. Then I heard a giggle from her and a whisper of faux-indignation and what sounded like “someone will see us”. Voyeur interest officially piqued, I went about the task of getting myself from my lounger to the wall as silently as possible. I noticed a faint section of light being cast from their sliding glass door and I momentarily pondered if it was worth it to leave the apartment, sneak around back, and try to spy. I decided against it and instead I stood up against the wall, as close to the railing as I dared. I bit my lip when I heard a little moan from one of them.
A wave of disappointment crashed over me as I heard the squeak of their screen door – on second thought, that was quick….squeak…light off from inside the apartment…squeak again. No, instead of going inside, he just turned off the interior lights and said something to her about it being dark now. Apparently that quieted her fears because I heard the sounds of zippers and buckles and pants with laden pockets hitting the balcony deck.
More hushed giggles, more kissing sounds. A gasp followed immediately by a quiet, restrained moan. I had to make up the images in my head, try to picture what caused that gasp, who’s mouth was on what body part. Or was it even a mouth? Perhaps his fingers found purchase inside her hot, wet slit. Maybe the fingers were lingering above the waist and caressing her nipples, teasing, drawing it out. I decided it had to be the nipples in a teasing fashion because I would expect less restraint if he were rubbing her clit.
I barely realized that my own hand was lightly teasing my own nipple. My eyes were closed so that I could better concentrate on their sounds. Have you ever just listened to the sounds of sex? It’s not like porn, it’s not a caricature or obvious all the time. I stood and listened, trying to determine if the wet sounds were mouth-on-cock, fingers-in-really-wet-cunt, or cock-in-wet-cunt. Either visual was arousing but no, I wanted to try and be right. I strained to hear more; the heavy breathing was a deeper resonance, perhaps it was mouth-on-cock? My guess was confirmed when he gave it away with a “Fuck yes, baby, suck it harder”. I imagined his hands on her head, staring at the sight of her lips devouring his cock, relishing the feel of her warm tongue pressing against the underside.
…….to be continued…..