1975 A Massachusetts Yankee Moves South And Discovers Noisy Neighbors.

Billy Jo, my apartment locator, drove me around to various places including The Galleria. This friggin' mall had an ice rink in the middle of it. The thing had three levels and it had a glass roof. I had my first taste of Mexican food. I didn’t know what to order so she ordered for me. It was different, to say the least. I tasted a Margarita or something; I didn’t like it at all. I told her that the bartender at the hotel last night recommended the southwest side of town as a good place for an apartment, and she agreed.

She was explaining about the major roads: the 610 loop, I-10, I-45, and highway 59. We took an exit off of that road called Chimney Rock Road. It seemed that every road had another name, which the locals used. That was very confusing. There were literally blocks upon blocks of apartments. Some complexes had streets running through them in two or three places. They almost all had ‘now leasing’ banners or flags flying. She pulled into the lot of one and suggested that I see what they had.

The air was hot and humid when I opened the door, and I had to remember that her car was air-conditioned.

Jane, the manager, told me she had one 1-bedroom unit that would be ready tomorrow; they still had to pick up the rental furniture and shampoo the carpet today. I looked at it and it was spacious. The carpet was orange shag, and for some reason I liked it and filled out the application. She frowned when she read that all my references were out of state. She seemed to become more skeptical as the minutes passed. Finally, she shook herself physically and asked for my rent and deposit. That took the majority of my traveler’s checks.

The next day I rented a set of furniture. It was delivered and set up within hours. I asked Jane where to do some shopping for some basic necessities like towels and linens because I could fit only so much in my Vega.

The date was Saturday May 2nd, 1975. The time was 7:45 a.m.

 “Oh, fuck me Ted. Oh Harder ah yes. Oh, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you FUCKING bastard. Oh, yes …yes … fuck me. Make me cum…YES OH YES YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE MEEE CUMMM…OH (PANT, PANT) OWWWWWWWWWWWWW YES TED ……….MMMMMMMM………MMMMM I’M COMMINNNNG …I’M COMING, I’M COMING, I’M COMING, I’M COMING, I’M COMING.”

Those vocals, accompanied by the noise of a bed slamming against the wall right at my headboard, served as my wake-up call. Still the noise kept up and she started her vocals again. This time they were different, but just as loud. “Yes Ted, spray me. Spray me with your white-hot sperm. Unload it deep in my cunt. Yes, that’s it. I feel it.” He groaned and it was silent for a while. Then I heard snoring. Once my brain comprehended what I had heard, I plunged my hand violently into my own pussy. An earth shattering orgasm of my own quickly followed.

I dressed and went out to get some breakfast at the Jack in the Box across the street. There, sitting on our shared front balcony, was a young woman clothed in only a wispy, powder-blue negligee, having a cup of coffee. Her bare feet were adorned with brightly painted toenails. She had waist length reddish blond hair that was totally disheveled and she had no apparent breasts. “Hi. My name is Veronica. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

I stammered, “No. I didn’t hear a thing.” She had a little smile cross her lips just like the Mona Lisa and she said, “Good.”

I masturbated to their always vocal sex, so many times I couldn't count. I would practice trying to time my orgasm with hers or his depending on my mood.

Veronica, who was just 18, and I became very good friends over the two years we shared the apartment wall. Some times we gabbed about girl stuff, you know SEX, periods, contraception, etc. until all hours of the night when Ted worked Midnight shift. I was so sad that I had to move away for we shared many orgasms together.