My name is Judy, and I had just graduated from nursing school and was living on the right side of a two-family house, with an elderly couple living on the other side.

The layout of the houses was identical except reversed. My bedroom and bathroom shared a wall with theirs. I had lived there for a few months and had never heard a single sound from their side and so naturally assumed that the walls were soundproof.

They were a really nice couple and always smiled and said hello whenever we happened to be sitting on the front porch whilst having drinks at the same time.

Well, eventually, they decided to move to a retirement home, and their side became vacant.

Pretty soon a really cute young couple moved in, and on the very first night, I nearly had a heart attack.  I could not only hear them making love, but could also hear almost every word spoken.  I admit that, to make matters worse, I decided to use my stethoscope as well, and that meant I felt as if I was in the room with them.

Now why, you might ask, did this revelation about the lack of soundproofing bother me?

Well, being single and young, I was masturbating almost every day, mostly at night, and am a very vocal person, when doing so, having been known to almost scream at the point of orgasm.  This meant that my previous neighbors must have not only heard me. but had kept it from me by being extra quiet all the time.  No wonder they were always smiling at me when we met. They were probably laughing themselves silly as well.

Now the tables were turned, and I made sure to be as quiet as a church mouse whenever they were home. We soon became good friends as well and often went out to dinner together and shared drinks on the front porch.

At no time did I let on to Hank and Mary that I could hear them, and the reason for this became obvious after a couple of months.

Hank came home one night after work, at about 7 pm, and I could hear them talking much louder than usual in the bedroom. Out came the trusty stethoscope, and I was glued to their wall listening to every word.

Oh my goodness, he was telling her in no uncertain terms that she was in deep trouble over her credit card spending and that he'd have to deal with it in the usual way. What did that mean, I wondered?

 "Get ready," was all he said, but she pleaded and begged with him to be forgiven, but to no avail. Suddenly, there was a silence that scared me for a moment, and then I heard a strange swishing noise, soon to be followed by a loud crack, which I later realized was a cane landing on bare flesh.

Mary let out a loud yelp, and five more equally stern strokes descended on her bum as her cries grew louder and louder.

The images this threw up in my mind were both exciting and confusing at the same time. There seemed to be silence for several minutes after her caning, followed by a low moaning sound, and what sounded to me like a pained yelp from Mary.

I left my bedroom without making a sound, not wanting them to know that I had heard anything.  I rushed to the living room, where I knew I couldn't be heard, and masturbated like I had never done before. The best orgasm I'd had up to that point ensued.

I had real difficulty sleeping that night with those conflicting thoughts and images floating around in my head.

The lovemaking and canings continued for months, and my stethoscope was, as usual, planted firmly against their wall. Suddenly I sneezed as loudly as I ever had.  The room next door went suddenly silent. The caning stopped and so did my heart.

I tried to just lie there, but knew that my sneeze had betrayed me and the fact that there was no soundproofing between our houses.

My doorbell rang, and I leaped out of bed in shock.

There, standing in her bathrobe was Mary. All she did was look at me with her gritted teeth, and say, "Hank would like to see you right now!"

I was only wearing a skimpy nightie and was about to turn around to get a bathrobe. when she said. "Go as you are Judy. and I suggest you are quick about it!"

I was dumbstruck and meekly went out of my front door and around to their house, where Hank was waiting for me.

"Follow me, young lady!" was all he said, and my legs seemed to take over and just fall in behind him. He took me to the very bedroom where all those images were now revealed.

There was a large leather sofa chair, with its back facing me, and a fearsome-looking cane was laid on top. It was long and whippy looking, which of course it was, and he walked over to it and picked it up.

"Take that nightie off, Judy! You won't be needing that!"

I didn't speak, because I couldn't. I did as I was told, after which he ordered me to bend over the sofa back and put my head way down on the seat.  Even though I was fully exposed and terrified, I found myself wet with the realization that he was about to do to me what I had heard him do many times to Mary.

I heard the expected swish of the cane a couple of times as he tapped my exposed bum. Then the first stroke landed and I wondered how the hell she had managed to withstand the pain. It felt like hot oil had been poured in a straight line across the middle of my bum.

Hank had started to lecture me between strokes about how I had betrayed their trust by failing to tell them about the total lack of soundproofing between our walls, and how friends didn't keep secrets like that. I wasn't truly listening because the pain was so excruciating, but did have to admit that I had let them down and deserved this, even though my bum would have disagreed.

He gave me six stern strokes spaced about a minute apart to let them sink in, and then started to rub me, not only on my by now deeply ridged ass, but between my legs. I couldn't stop him and didn't want to. The feeling of pain and pleasure combined was heaven. He gave me the best orgasm one could ever imagine.

Once I had cum, he told me to get up and leave. I hurriedly put my nightie back on and fled the house.

 Mary was waiting at my front door, smiling. "Did he make you cum? He always does with me."

Now I finally knew what the silence after her caning and low moans were all about. My embarrassment was complete.

 We became firm friends after that, and my trips over his dreaded sofa became regular events.