My neighbours were going at it again and I wasn't missing it for the world. The tumbler is already upended in my grip against the joining wall, my ear jammed to its base as her escalating sighs of arousal filter through, almost as clearly as if I were in the room with them. I wish I was.

My bedroom is dark, it's gone midnight and they noisily came back from a party in a taxi that needed a new fan belt. Once that had squealed away, fits of giggles broke out as he fumbled with the front door lock. Her drunken hiss filtered up through my open bedroom window. “Shhhh, you'll wake Chris.”

Too late. But I'm not complaining.

They'd scurried upstairs and, by the sounds of things, she's now lying on their bed while he trails kisses from her neck down her front. She hums in appreciation at whatever he's doing and I try to project myself into their space.

Being a pair of semi-detached houses, their bedroom is a mirror image of mine. So the foot of their bed faces where my glass presses. That's the perfect angle to capture every nuance of their acts.

I'm willing to bet the soft sighs are when he nuzzles his way to her breasts and twirls his tongue around each nipple in turn. The sharper breaths represent him grazing and biting them. And her hisses are when he grips tighter, tugs up and away, she arcs her torso to lessen the sting and he keeps going until the firm cap pings back to rest.

"Fuck, I love that heat when you bite my tits." She sighs as he evidently soothes the pain she craves, then takes a shaky breath. "Do it again."

He obliges, and the hisses and groans she emits make my dick swell. More when she implores: "Oh God, bite me."

And he does. Over and over.

When her panting and gasping eventually ease, I presume he's moved lower to nuzzle her faint muffin-in-the-middle, and the long, deeper sigh is when he slips between her thighs and kisses his way down her wet slit.

The echoes off her bedroom walls alter through my glass. From the way her moans rise, she is likely arching her body into him, clutching those amazing tits. God, they're incredible. Perky. Pliant. A perfect handful. She often wears scoop neck tops when she's tending to her garden and I have been caught staring on a number of occasions, in the year or so we've been neighbours.

Not that her rump is any less impressive. I always stiffen instantly at her cries for it harder when he spanks it during their frequent vocal lovemaking sessions. And by frequent, I mean a few times a day. Not every day, but at least three times a week, sometimes more. And when they get the horn, they fucking get the horn. She's insatiable.

Her gasps increase. “Oh fuck yes, eat me. Don't fucking stop until I cum. Yeah.”

My fingertips are tense around the glass for fear of losing my grip. I move my head a fraction and the clarity of her encouragement improves.

“God yes. Right there. Scoop those juices round my cl… clit, fuck. FUCK. Oh I love it when you do that. Keep going.”

With my free hand I stroke the edges of my stiff cock, imagining her bucking and writhing under his tongue, squeezing her own tits and pinching her nipples as she ratchets closer to climax. When she's drunk, she cums so fast, so easily. But experience tells me there's still a while of playtime even after that, so I pace myself. Feathery touches to savour the sensation of my cock swelling then subsiding under the briefest skims of my fingertips.

Lydia’s chanting expletives turn to unintelligible moans and I surge as she ramps up for orgasm. I've heard it time and again and it never gets old. Her breath quickens. Shallows. Then she huffs and gasps, pitch rising as everything starts to close in. And right at the top when she peaks, her sighs turn raspier and she inhales one long breath.

Shortly after, there's usually a moment of complete silence. Right about… now in fact, where she’ll freeze as the orgasm claims her. As everything knots and unknots inside her core. As the heat and explosions batter her body, until containing everything becomes too much and her breath bursts, carrying repeated moans with it.

“Oh god yeah hmmmm, ohhh, yeah hmm, fuuu, fuuuck...”

Sharing her climaxes is one of the high points of my day. Even through the wall I can tell the exact moment she bites her lip to stifle a sharp cry, and the exact moment she releases it. Can tell when she's facing me or not, and when she has her face buried in her pillow. The sounds reflected from the walls tell such a tale.

As her panting slows and returns to contented sighs, then cute giggles, I relax with her. My erection, however, remains.

He doesn't let her rest for long. Or she doesn't want to wait. It's difficult to tell who instigates the next phase but there's shuffling as they alter positions and then it's his turn to moan. Maybe she's sucking him.

I swap hands because the one holding the glass has gone dead, and I focus on detecting any sound channelled to my makeshift earpiece. There. A giggle. A slurp. A cough. Yes. She's taking him in her mouth and, by the sounds of things, trying to swallow him whole.

He whispers something and there's a theatrical pop and some slick wanking as she takes over. “You like that? Like it when I suck your huge cock?”

“Aha.”

“How much do you think I can take?”

More muttering and a long groan of satisfaction greet my ears before she gags and pulls free, slurps, and talks more dirty. “Oh that was nearly all the way. You're so fucking big. Think I can take everything? Hmmm?”

A series of wet kisses filter to me, and my cock bobs and surges at the thought of her mouth travelling the length of his spit-soaked dick. She sucks and pops, sucks and pops. Probably one for each of his balls, gazing up at him with those incredible, deep brown eyes. Maybe her mane of auburn hair pools or covers half her face and she flicks it away, takes him in her hand and kisses her way back to his tip.

“How about you help me? Guide my head down. Make me take every fucking inch.”

He groans approval and sure enough there's silence then more spluttering and coughing. I bet spit flies from her and sprays his shaft and balls as she bottoms out. Her gasp as he must release her head is desperate and her voice is loaded with dirty want. “Nearly there. Come on. Treat me like the slut you know I am. Fill my throat with your huge dick.”

She barely gets the last word out before she's cut off and a series of airless gagging chokes begins. I stroke my steel and try not to cum just from the mere filthy sounds she's making. He hisses, “That's it, slut. Take it all. Show me how much you love it. Yeah. Fuuck, such a good girl.”

He groans and there's a long moment of nothingness where only my pounding heartbeat is reflected from the inside of the tumbler. When she’s allowed to breathe again, she hauls in lungfuls of air and I stroke my cock, fighting off the need to splatter both me and the carpet with cum.

Her voice carries a breathless edge that screams pride and elation. Genuine joy: “Oh you love it when I'm your filthy little whore, don't you? Fuck, you're so close. But I don't want you in my mouth. I want you inside me. Filling me.”

There's scrabbling on the bed as she's probably shoved forward, tugged to all fours, then both of them groan as he sinks deep inside her soaked snatch. I try not to gasp with them, letting go of my dick like it's lava. It bobs in the dark as if possessed and they set up a steady rhythm mere feet from where I sit pressed against the wall.

I can barely bring myself to touch my raging hardness in case I shoot too soon. I want to cum when he does.

She coos, “Yesss. Fuck me. Jesus, you're so hard. Yeah, that's it. Give me more. Spank me. Fuuuck.”

Their hips meet in rhythmic flesh-on-flesh, building to a furious pace that bounces inside my makeshift earpiece as he drills her into the mattress. It's joined by muffled yelps in response to the cracks of a palm against her rear. Definitely ass up, head down, as she takes every one of his thrusts and increasingly ferocious slaps until she's wailing incoherently into the pillow. My dick strains at thoughts of her ass turning a shade of rosy pink that makes her pussy drip.

Without warning, her moans become clearer and through gritted teeth she begs, “Yeah, pull my hair. Fuck, I love it. Take me.”

I hold off for as long as possible but my excitement crests when she eggs him on.

“Fuck yeah, you're so big. Give it to me. Harder.” He does, and growls in the process as she continues. “More! I want to feel you for days every time I move. Fuck me. FUCK ME!”

His groans intensify and that's it for me. I can't take any more and grab my dick, wanking furiously as he slams into her. The next words from her mouth are a little strangled so I assume he's hauled her almost upright by her hair and crooked his elbow round her throat. “Yeah, that's it. Fuck me. Take me. Own me. Make me yours.”

His growl deepens and the groans that follow as he unloads inside her squelching pussy mask my own orgasm. I gasp and pump furiously, ropes of spunk spraying across my thigh and lashing my knee.

Such an intense rush to share their intimate moments. Their bed thumps under their weight and she coos in the aftermath, lying sprawled beneath him, no doubt. My panting slows and breathing stabilises as I sigh and dribble the remainder of my load onto my leg.

The last thing I hear is her whispering, “Thank you,” to him as they disentangle. The bed creaks and then silences.

I wait a minute. Nothing. Show's over, so I take the glass and leave it in the bathroom cabinet where I also take a minute to clean up. There's such a lot of jizz that I wipe off.

Returning to bed, my phone confirms it's 12:43am. And there's a message. I swipe to open it:

“Hope you liked the show. I meant every word. He's away on business tomorrow and I'm fucking horny. I'll be round straight after work. xx”