Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Grunting, Slapping, and Utterances Unto the Lord

The sound of sex is unmistakable. Well, usually...

I have heard roommates having sex. It is usually the egregiously depraved performance sex that you have when you know other freaks are listening. It is elevated moaning, punctuated ass-slapping, mysterious bumps against the wall.

I have heard my own parents having sex. Silent, stealthy, but unable to avoid the tell-tale rhythm of the squeaky bed frame. It was cool though. I knew, at the very least, that they weren't headed for an immediate divorce.

I've heard friends having sex. I've heard it in my house. I've heard it in the next room. I've even walked in on it. Hearing friends have sex is creepier than hearing your parents.

I've heard strangers having sex in a hotel. Hotel sex, it seems, is always a bit more aerobic and vocal than other forms. Certainly, though, it ALWAYS involves thrusting the full body weight of at least two naked and sweaty full-grown adults toward the rickety hotel headboard. To the well-trained ear, hotel sex may always be identified by the the percussive clapping of the headboard against the wall.

Hearing hotel sex never bothers me. It's like sport. I root for the visiting team.

What has disturbed me, though, is neighbor sex.

It was 1990, or thereabouts. I was walking home from work in the middle evening. It was dark, but not too late. The California night sky was warm and smelled of sage.

It was a pleasant walk, so I took the long way home. As I neared my house, I heard a noise that caused me concern. It sounded like a small animal was in a great deal of distress. It howled and screeched. It cried and whined. It whimpered and hissed.

I came closer. It seemed to be coming from the hedge around my neighbor's house. I got closer and the commotion got louder. The passionate cry reached a higher pitch and grew in volume. I was sure to find a cat caught in a traumatic trap. It was perhaps a raccoon pinned under a pile of bricks.

I came to stand just outside my neighbors open window. The agonizing beast was squealing now, and it was obviously coming from inside my neighbor's house. I was perplexed and horrified for just a split second, with my mind racing through a menu of emergency options to deal with the zoological crisis unfolding in my neighbor's house. Just then, all of a sudden, the suffering animal let out a gasp and screamed, "Oh fuck, oh God, yes, oh fuck!"

I felt dirty and a little embarrassed, and I walk away.

Reading for comprehension:
1. You liked this one, didn't you? Dirty perv...
2. So, was the story just a cover for me eavesdropping on my lusty neighbor?
3. What barn-yard animal do you most sound like when you're doin it?

8 comments:

  1. Nothing is as embarrassing as finding out your parents have heard you having sex...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous9:02 AM

    Hmmm 1990? You sure that wasnt coming from your own house? Well I guess not unless you heard crying and praying right afterward.

    My question to the readers:
    After hearing the neighbors, How long did it take Brian to lube up and old toilet paper roll and go to town?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Dude - I TOLD you 1. Not to hang out near my fence; and 2. Not to tell people what you heard....

    How am I going to explain to your mom that you DID hear us after all?

    (sigh)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Anonymous11:21 AM

    Dude, who has been fucking toilet paper rolls?

    ReplyDelete
  5. Anonymous11:22 AM

    This entry had me in stitches.

    Why? Because earlier this week I posted this entry in LiveJournal's "bad_sex" community. Ring any bells? ;-)

    http://community.livejournal.com/bad_sex/2884524.html

    ReplyDelete
  6. Anonymous1:54 PM

    I'm sick of being ass fucked. Brian, just leave me in the garbage in peace.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Anonymous9:55 AM

    Get your grubby little fingers out of me Brian. I hate being in that tube.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Matt, welcome to the Lounge!

    ReplyDelete

Be compelling.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.