I thought you might be interested in this unique story.
I grew up in a neighborhood very near a large international airport. Due to the rising noise levels, the neighborhood was condemned years ago and the houses torn down, but when I lived there I got used to the noise and actually found a good use for it.
The walls in our house were very flimsy, so you could hear a lot of what was going on in the room next to mine and vice-versa. My sister's bedroom was on one side and my mother's was on the other. I discovered masturbation by lying on top of my pillow and thrusting into it at an early age, maybe as early as six, but no later than seven. The problem was that my bed squeaked a lot when I did it. Being a little tyke I thought maybe I could fix that by oiling the joints of the bed, but because it was made of wood, that didn't work at all.
My sister was quite a bit older than I was, and I guess a little more street-wise. One day she and I were watching TV. I was lying on the couch on my stomach and she said, 'You aren't going to do that nasty thing you do in bed every night, are you?' I was really embarrassed and didn't know what to say, so I just didn't answer.
That night in bed I wanted to mount my pillow, but what my sister said deterred me. I lay there thinking about it, worried that I'd have to abandon my favorite nighttime activity, when I noticed the noise of a plane going overhead. That happened so often that we never even noticed it any more, but I suddenly realized that the noise of the plane would mask the sounds of me humping my pillow. So I pulled down my underpants and lay on top of my pillow, waiting for a plane to come. When one approached, I went to it in earnest, thrusting hard and fast to get as much feeling as I could while it was overhead, then stopped as it faded off into the distance.
Planes came over about every 2 or 3 minutes most nights, so I did a lot of stop-starting. Later I realized I was practicing edging, though it was an invention out of necessity. That led to sessions lasting half an hour or more, and although it was frustrating, for some reason it was more satisfying than before I started doing it that way.
I did that for several years. By the time I was 13 my sister was off to college, but I still had to do my start-stop routine because my mother was in the room on the other side.
When my sister came home for spring break her first year of college, I was still doing it every night. Then one day she remarked to me with a smile, 'I see you still have the timing of the airplanes down to a science!' I must have blushed bright red. She felt sorry for me and followed up by saying, 'That's OK, I used to do exactly the same thing. I still do sometimes.'
I was blown away, and that night I did it thinking of her maybe doing it in the room next to mine. In fact I am certain I heard some squeaking from her bed at the same time I was doing it. I had a wonderful, wet, orgasm that night.