A Magnificent Hard-on

I'm not sure if the content falls under masturbation or voyeurism, but here goes...

Friday, ten p.m. All alone. Naked on my dorm room bed, leafing through a slick hardcore smut magazine from 42nd Street. A throbbing hard-on. And bored...

During graduate school in the early 1980s, I lived in a student housing complex just north of New York City. The dorms were units of four cramped apartments, stacked two above and two below, cobbled together on the cheap, with white plaster walls that were as thin as the local building code would allow. If you pressed your ear against the wall, you could hear a conversation in the apartment above-which is what I did that night.

The past month or so on the weekends, I noticed a girl would visit the guy upstairs. She wasn't a student here. Her face was moderately attractive, the makeup sensible and tasteful, straight brown hair neatly coifed. But it was hard to make out the rest of the body under her heavy winter coat. She would arrive Friday around dinner time and leave Sunday afternoon. I suspected they were having sex all along and will have sex sometime tonight.

As I looked at page after page of full-color, hi-res fornication, my fingernail ran slowly up and down the underside of my shaft. From the self-seductive teasing, a drop of clear mucus came up at the opening and flowed around the glans. It was months since I had last mounted a real girl in a New York City cathouse. How I longed for a girl in the flesh.

Suddenly out of curiosity, I put my ear to the wall and pressed firmly. It didn't occur to me before that maybe I could catch some evidence, as indirect as it may be, of their love-making.

At first, there was nothing but the sound of my own pulse and then the tap-tap of someone entering the bedroom directly above and stopping in the middle of the floor.

The girl's voice was clear and emphatic: 'What a magnificent hard-on!'

'Come here. And take that thing off. Mmmm. Nice.'

She giggled softly.

I grasped my hard-on and stroked gently, just under the threshold that would make me cum, just tight enough to keep hard, just right to make this masturbatory adventure last. This was one of my strongest fantasies: to witness a couple in sexual intercourse while I jerked off in tandem with their pleasure.

The girl stepped to the bed and got in, fluffing the sheets and stretching the bedsprings. And there was for a few minutes between the two, faint whisperings and soft lovey-dovey cooing. They went silent for a few moments, except for what sounded like kisses (on the lips, or perhaps elsewhere). I kept stroking, I knew they would not disappoint me.

Suddenly, crystal clear, and as loud as her first utterance, the girl let loose a quick, passionate gasp. And right after, the bedsprings started squeaking firmly and rhythmically. What luck, I thought: I had just heard the exact moment of penetration. I stroked gentler still, so I would not cum too soon.

The squeaking lasted a few more minutes, interspersed with occasional faint moaning and grunting sounds. And then, the girl began to mumble, over and over and over, 'Oh, my God.' It was an indistinct whisper at first, but each successive time, it grew louder, tenser, more urgent, until she shouted out one final uncontrollable, 'OH! MY! GOD!' And then she was silent.

The squeaking then grew violent for half a minute and abruptly stopped. He was thrusting his magnificent cock as forcefully as he could, squirting his cum ever so deep inside her pussy canal. He grunted violently six or seven times, each one, I was sure, representing a large hot shot of semen.

They shifted position slightly and whispered lovey-dovey to one another. The words grew fainter and stopped. They were finally asleep, their genitals sticky from semen and vaginal secretions, their mission for the weekend accomplished.

I stroked harder, setting lose my fantasies about what happened upstairs on that squeaky bed. In my mind's eye, I was invisible, standing over their intertwined bodies, her tits swaying to and fro, her legs spread wide, his buttock muscles contracting hard with each thrust, their faces tightening as their orgasms exploded. As they climaxed, I imagined spraying their bodies with my own cum.

In my own bed, I stroked hard a few times and shot my cum on my stomach, thighs, and bedsheets. Satisfied, I closed the smut magazine, sighed deeply, turned out the lights and fell asleep.

She came each weekend for a while. And, I made it a point to eavesdrop on their lovemaking, stroking myself and cumming when they did. But one night, instead of their lovey-dovey whisperings, I heard an argument, quiet but boiling over with resentment and hurt. She stomped out into a bitter winter night and never came back. I was quite disappointed, but to this day the powerful memories of this hot young couple still stoke my masturbatory fantasies.