The Wall

Michelle took him in: he was a tall, broad, thick-necked slab of lean muscle. His gaze had more cleverness than intelligence, but he was sharp, all there. She winked at Amy as they came over to her table, as if to say: "Good job."

"Michelle, this is Joseph."

"Hi Joseph, pleased to meet you."

Pleasantries were exchanged, and small talk initiated. The weather was a little warm for the season, and a thunderstorm had passed through that afternoon. Traffic was no worse than usual, but Joseph had seen a nasty accident on his way to work.

"Where do you work, Joseph?" inquired Michelle. She liked the sound of his voice: deep and intense, confident.

"I am in international trade."

Michelle raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Do you travel much?"

"Only by computer. I have friends in forty countries that I have never met. How about yourself?"

Michelle shrugged. "Administrative assistant at Barker & Carrol. Basically a secretary, but I am getting my MBA next year and I want to entrepreneur in the Czech Republic."

Small talk filtered into anecdotes, augmented by the wine and food. Michelle found that she was, indeed, impressed with this Joseph. He seemed an unusual find for Amy: as beautiful and outgoing as she was, Amy ordinarily seemed to associate with a dimmer breed of man. But since they had started rooming together, Amy had gone through a dry spell.

Joseph had a dark shock of black hair, cropped short but thick nonetheless. His grey eyes were not jovial eyes, they did not radiate mirth and good humor. They were a hard presence: if she glanced at him and found his eyes locked on hers, Michelle lost her ability to converse. She thought that maybe the talk was just a screen, that Joseph was learning more from his peircing vision than from their banter. When he looked at her, she felt naked, uncertain, but also thrilled. It wasn't really how she thought she should be feeling about Amy's interest. Then again, maybe it was that Amy's interest shouldn't be looking at her like that.

Amy didn't seem to notice anything however. The only thing Amy was noticing was Joseph. When Joseph was away from the table for a moment, Amy gave Michelle a significant look.

"I think you found something there," said Michelle.

"Yeah, I don't know what, but I plan on finding out," laughed Amy. Michelle blushed at her brazen lust.

"I think I'll go over to Janet's this evening."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. But it is too bad he doesn't have a friend along, or something."

"It's no bother at all. This is your first likely prospect in months. I wouldn't want to spoil the mood."

"Well, that's nice of you then. But don't think you need to be out of the apartment anytime I have a visitor. If things work out, you would be spending a lot of time at Janet's!"

They laughed, both relieved to have the protocol worked out.

Unfortunately, Janet was in a fine temper. When Janet was in a good mood she was everyone's best friend: outgoing, witty, a bright spark of life. But in a black mood everything turned into an argument, and that night Janet had one of her black moods on strong. Michelle quickly decided she didn't want to sit around the filthy kitchen drinking and bitching all night, so she cleared out quickly. "Well, I hope things get better anyway," she said, bringing her stay to an early end.

"They won't."

She decided on a movie. A light comedy to while away a few hours until it was safe to go back. She hadn't said she was staying over at Janet's, so they would be expecting her back eventually and plan accordingly.

She had heard that "Best Friends" was supposed to be a tolerable romantic comedy, and since the other nine choices at the Cinemaplex were less appealing still, she settled in with her popcorn and let the film surround her.

David Beck had the romantic lead, and, while it couldn't hold up to the great dialogue in the old black & whites, he managed some fairly witty repartee.

She stepped out into the humid Summer night, but it still wasn't midnight. The film had only been about an hour and a half, so Michelle decided to kill another half hour at her favorite bar on the way home.

"Old Greek's" was busier than she was used to: for her the place was more of an after work pub than a weekend nightspot. She got a pint of porter from Lee who flashed her a tired grin of recognition and observed the crowd. It was already fairly d***ken, more men than women. Mostly in groups, a few pairs. A couple of men, heads bowed at the bar, had the look of the perennially alone. Some college k**s were playing with the pinball machine. Some others were commandeering the juke box. A low cloud of smoke lay across the ceiling.

She timed her beer, two sips every five minutes, and the half hour crawled by. When she came by after work it was quiet, she knew a few people, she could talk to Lee, it was nice to relax. Now there was tension all through the air as loud and pointless arguments competed for space, and the loneliness of the hour and the drink compelled her to size up the various men who seemed available. Not that she could ever approach anyone, and the only people she would conceivably be interested were certainly too shy to approach her.

What does one say? she thought. This is an entirely artificial form of community. The people who are here, lonely, looking for companionship, only know the tired rituals of seduction. They hope to find themselves in bed with someone that by accident they might actually turn out to like. It is all so backwards!

Having analyzed enough, she tossed down the rest of her beer and headed out. It was still another ten minute drive back to the apartment, so she would get in at twenty past twelve. That seemed reasonable.

It turned out Joseph had left early, leaving Amy in quite a state.

"Oh, God, I am never going to have sex again!"

Michelle, who was almost a complete innocent, at least when compared to Amy, shook her head at the frankness of her roomate.

"Didn't work out, huh?"

"Well, the goddamn guy thought he was being a gentleman or something." "What happened?"

"We came back, had some more wine -- had your Pinot or whatever it was, sorry, I'll buy you another -- candlelight, everything. Right on track. I got him on the sofa, we kissed, then we kissed some more -- he can kiss, too, let me tell you -- I mean we kissed! But I was just about to go for his earlobe, since his hands wern't doing anything, and he broke off. Said it was a lovely evening. Made a date for next week!"

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, except I didn't want a goddamned gentleman."

"I think it's sweet."

Amy looked doubtful. "I just don't think Joseph is a sweet kind of guy. I have a sense for those things, maybe, but he didn't seem sweet."

"No," Michelle agreed, thinking it over. "I wouldn't have said that either, really. Still, you can hardly complain."

"I sure can. There's probably something wrong with him. All those good looks, he's probably impotent."

Michelle blushed again. She didn't think so.

One Friday later, Michelle found herself at Janet's again, only this time things were better. Rata was there as well, and the three of them were baking. Janet's laugh was clear and bold through the cigarette smoke, and the warm cookie atmosphere surrounded them.

"So what's Amy up to tonight?"

"She has a date tonight. I guess this is really their first date, because last week they just kind of met."

"Bout time she was up to something."

"That's certainly what she thinks." Rata had gone to college with Amy: "She has always been a hungry one, that way."

"She hasn't been with anyone since we've been sharing the apartment," said Michelle.

"Oh you're in for a treat, then," grinned Rata. "Revolving door. Men in & out all times of the night."

Michelle bridled. "She's not like that."

"No? She used to be. Loud about it too. She likes people to know when she's having a good time."

Janet smirked. "Jealous, Rata?"

Rata shrugged. It would be the unusual man to find Rata attractive: a thyroid problem had brought her close to three hundred pounds. "I always thought Amy was pretty selfish, it's her defining characteristic."

"What she wouldn't share with you? Is that it?"

Michelle saw Rata frowning and jumped in, hoping to divert the conversation. "Well, I met this guy. Joseph something. He's quite a prize."

"But no genius, I am sure," said Rata.

"Well, he's not like Carter. You knew Carter, didn't you?" Rata thought. "Was that when she was living over on the South Side?"

"Yeah, she was with him when I met her. Now he was thick."

Janet, checking the cookie trays, laughed. "In all senses of the word, I expect."

"Well, I wouldn't know. But I was never convinced he actually knew how to read."

"Remember that song 'I Like 'Em Big & Stupid?'" laughed Janet. "Could have been written by Amy."

"This guy doesn't seem stupid. Say's he's in international trade. Looks like he has some money. Plus he is taking her to Reiselle tonight."

"International trade? What the hell does that mean?"

"Some kind of stock thing I thought."

Rata intervened. "Those cookies are ready to come out. I can smell them."

It was after one when she finally left. They had eaten all the cookies, Rata as much as any of them. Michelle had to admire the way Rata could enjoy her food, since she couldn't enjoy her body. On the way home she decided to stop by the Greek's again. She hadn't liked it last time, and she didn't expect to this time either, but it was an interesting sociological phenomenon.

Lee had left for vacation on Wednesday, and Pete was filling in. Pete was as tall as a basketball player but with a peculiar handlebar mustache. He usually worked the quiet afternoons and Sundays. Michelle saw he was pretty frazzled. The crowd was much like the week before, groups of college k**s, couples, lonely men. She managed to get a stool at the bar, near the corner, from which to watch the other patrons.

There were some interesting characters. A group of women, probably u******e, had occupied the table nearest the juke box and were giggling incessantly. The solo men kept their eyes on that table. A blind man with a seeing eye dog was sitting at the bar, talking. Michelle couldn't figure out if he was thought he was talking to Pete, or whether he was just half crazy, talking into the air. Occasionally Pete would make some monosyllabic reply as he passed.

At the other end of the bar a couple was all over each other. The woman, slightly overweight, a little too big for the jeans she was wearing, stood between the legs of a pudgy man with bleary doughy eyes. They were kissing and rubbing. The woman kept glancing at the television in the corner, which had some cable game show on.

One of the solos, an older man with greasy, stringy grey hair, sent Michelle a beer just as she was getting low. She wasn't sure how to respond, so she just smiled and nodded. The tension in the place seemed thicker than the previous week, there was more sex in the air, more need. She saw the couples all drifting closer, the doughboy and his girl were locked on each others faces, only pausing to gulp more beer. The groups were hunched over their tables, male and female sizing each other up, deciding how to pair. Two of the solos were in conversation, and Michelle realized even they were a couple. She gulped a few sips of the free porter, and left. The humid evening was only barely refreshing. At least it wasn't thick with smoke.

It was going on two when she quietly walked in the door. The place was dark, no message on the machine.

She paused, listening, but the apartment was quiet. She clicked on the light and tossed her purse on the kitchen table. She saw that Amy's was on the counter. Poured herself a glass of water, and headed for bed. The candles on the low table in the living room had all burnt themselves out, dripping wax onto the finish.

She put the water on her bedside table, and lay down. She wondered if he was still there. The air was dark and still around her. Darker than it usually seemed. Getting back up she carefully put her ear against the wall she shared with Amy's bedroom.

She heard low voices. There was a quick, rhthmic thumping, but she realized it was her heart. She smiled wryly to herself, as if to say "You're a strange girl, Michelle."

She went into the bathroom to prepare for bed. The best thing to do would be to go to sl**p as quickly as possible.

But when she was between her sheets she found her hands were between her legs, bunching the nightgown to her crotch. She couldn't quite dispel those hushed voices from her mind. What were they saying? Had they already made love, or were they building up to it?

Michelle's own experiences had been few and not very good. Like many shy women, she found that the only men who she ended up getting involved with were the outgoing type who manipulated her shyness. They saw her as a good target for their affections, but that was all she was to them, a target. A challenge. The men she had been infatuated with either did not notice her or were too shy themselves to overcome the distance. When she thought about it she felt doomed. Nonetheless, sex interested her. As limited as her experiences were, her fantasy life was rich and varied.

As though compelled, she slipped out of bed and went over to the wall. At first she could hear nothing, just a sort of static echo, as though she were hearing the sound of the trillions of air molecules bouncing against the wall. But then Amy uttered a long, pleased sigh. It was a sigh that held a note of invitation and expectance, not a sigh of satisfaction. That, apparently, was for later.

More murmered voices, and Amy's happy little giggle; the walls were thin but not thin enough to transmit voices with any clarity. Michelle tried to imagine their position. Were they still clothed? They were probably on the bed, which was on the other side of the room. Were they lying side by side? Locked in embrace? Was his large frame over hers? Was his finger tracing the neckline of her dress, following the bountiful curve of Amy's enhanced cleavage?

Amy uttered another shallow sigh, breathing it lightly through her throat. The bed creaked slightly as their position changed somehow. Michelle pictured Joseph over Amy, now, his lips on her breasts. Surely they must by at least partially unclothed, her large bobbing breasts just barely illumined by the streetlight filtered through the blinds. His black-haired head bent over them, suckling the nipples, licking, drawing them into his mouth, his teeth running just around the edge. The murmering started up again. Michelle desperately wanted to know what they were saying.

She went back to her bed and gulped down the water. She then put the glass against the wall to amplify the sound, and ease the strain on her neck.

Her roommate's voice was still low and barely more distinct, but she caught some words. She mentally recreated the conversation from the fragments, filling in where she had to.

Amy was saying, "Oh, Joseph, I love the feel of your arms on my back."

He was less audible still, his voice being deeper.

"Yes, take it off," Amy replied.

Joseph said something about her neck, and Amy giggled.

There was rustling of cloth, and the bed creaked lightly again. Michelle pictured Amy shrugging out of her dress, either a backless one or one already unzipped.

"There," said Amy. "I want to feel your chest against mine."

Joseph said something that made her laugh.

"Mmmmmm," hummed Amy happily. Michelle pictured those large breasts flattening against his powerful chest. Did he have hair on his chest or no? Michelle couldn't decide. She wished more than anything that she could see as well as hear, even if only dimly. There were no keyholes in this condo.

The rustling continued, and Michelle imagined the dress coming all the way off, revealing the full curve of Amy's buttocks, her smooth thighs.

In answer to something he said, Amy replied: "Don't then." Somehow, it was an invitation.

Michelle was leaning against the wall heavily, feeling all the smooth plasterboard against her shoulder and hip. Her hands were between her legs, and her breathing was quick and shallow. The foreplay went on, punctuated by Amy's delicious little laugh and various shiftings. Amazed, Michelle realized that forty minutes had passed already. It was a good thing the next day was Saturday.

Things were building. Joseph was speaking a little louder and Amy could make out some of the things he said, usually exclamations of praise. (Flatterer, she thought, but Amy was formed in the mold of contemporary taste, even if not all of it was natural.) There was a rising edge to Joseph's voice when he said: "Ok, take off my pants."

Amy tittered again, and there was some fumbling as his pants came off. Michelle thought she could almost hear them slide down his legs. Were his legs as powerful as the rest of him? Strong pillars of muscle? What was Amy finding between those legs?

"Don't you worry," said Joseph. "I'll get plenty hard soon. You must use your mouth."

Amy laughed, although Michelle knew her well enough to sense that it was not so openly delighted as before. She joked, "And this only our first date! You are a bold one Joseph."

He merely grunted, and their positions shifted again.

Michelle was not sure how to picture them. Joseph might be standing by the bed, with Amy sitting. Or perhaps they were lying side by side. Or perhaps he was straddling her, his cock dangling to her face. Or perhaps she him, her legs wide across his chest, her breasts heavy on his muscular abdomen. There were many ways to do it. She heard no sounds. Amy uttered a few muffled sounds, pleasant ones to be sure. Joseph was silent.

After a while Michelle managed to hear sounds of suckling, slurps and pops. She settled on picturing Amy astride Joseph, plunging her mouth around his hardening cock, licking, drinking, devouring.

Joseph broke his silence to growl "Deeper."

Amy protested, "I can't take you deeper, you're really big!"


The bed began to squeak slightly, very slightly. At first Michelle attributed it to Amy taking him more vigorously to make up for her inability to actually swallow him whole, but as the squeaking grew and Amy's voice began to make little protesting noises, though muffled, Michelle uneasily redrew the picture to have Joseph over her, thrusting into her mouth.

She heard Amy gag.

Amy's protestations were becoming more audible. Her voice had anger, but she was muffled by him and the rhythmic squeaking of the bed continued. Amy was vocally whining, pleading, commanding, but Joseph was apparently lost in his own pleasure. Once he merely grunted, "Go deeper, damnit."

Michelle, leaning against the wall, suddenly felt herself more involved. In a sense her roomate was being ****d. You could think of it that way. Should she do anything? She was paralyzed with uncertainty, her ear to the wall. Amy was desperately thrashing about, gagging, trying to cough him out of her throat. Michelle pictured Amy's red lips wrapped around the base of a thick cock, the pubic hair crunching against her face. Even this turned her on more.

The situation ended in an explosion. "Damnit," growled Joseph. "You fucking bit me."

Amy was coughing, gasping for breath. Joseph quickly became conciliatory. "C'mon, c'mon. I just got a little carried away. Here, lie back. Drink some wine."

Amy's coughing was silenced while she gulped something down. "Jesus, Joseph. That really hurt."

He did not answer, but Michelle heard the tender sound of his lips kissing, little puckers of sound as he soothed her.

Michelle pictured him tracing the ample curves of Amy's body down between her legs. "I don't know if I am in the mood for this any more," said Amy, but her voice had already lost its conviction.

The room grew quiet again. After some sibilant changes in position, all settled into a gently peaceful atmosphere. Occasionaly there was a slurp, or a sigh, or the lone creak of the bed. Michelle kept herself pressed to the wall listening. Between her legs, her fingers were sopping. She imagined Joseph kneeling between Amy's raised knees, his face pressed into her sex.

The silence of the room began to pulse slightly with Amy's breathing, now audible, and her occasional sighs, little vocal tremors, and whispered encouragements. Michelle envisioned her leaning back on the bed, her hands clutching the sheets, her face contorted with pleasure as Joseph continued to lap her up. Occasionally he uttered a deep sigh of pleasure as well.

"Oh!" Amy made a sound of surprise. "Oh, yes!" Her breathing was coming harder, and occasionally caught her voice as well. Michelle could hear her riding a growing wave of pleasure, half delirious. She was actually grunting, a high-pitched wheezy whine of a grunt with each breath, a hitch in her voice.

Then the bed groaned as their positions changed. It creaked and sagged.

"Yes, get inside me," cried Amy. And suddenly the bed was pounding in slow rhythm against the far wall of the room. There was the hiss of skin on and skin, and the rustle of sheets being clenched and pulled. Michelle pictured Joseph bent between Amy's legs, his hips racking against hers, his thick cock easing into her, his lips on her throat, her breasts, her ears.

"Oh, God, that's good," groaned Amy. The rhythm was slow but insistent.

"Oh, God, you're big."

With each creak of the bedsprings, Amy squeaked another sigh of delight. Everything was in perfect sync, including Michelle's own fingers circling her clit.

"Oh, oh, oh," Amy moaned in time to the slow press of Joseph into her, each oh building a little from the last.

Then Amy's moans began to elongate, though the rhythm remained steady. "Ooooh, oh yes, oooooooh!" she cried.

"Oooh, Gaaaawd," she wailed. "Ooooh, Gaaaawd, I'm coming. Oh! Ooooh!" At the very peak of her orgasm, her voiced devolved into delicate little yelps, which slowed, deepened, and sighed into a throbbing hum. "Mmmmmmm."

But Joseph's rhythm was unaffected by this. He continued to slide in and out of her, rocking against her in the same steady motion as before. Just beneath audibility, Amy said something to him that Michelle couldn't reconstruct.

Then gasped. "Ouch!"

The rhythm began to pick up in pace.

Through the wall, Michelle heard the sharp crack of a slap, and Amy squeaked again. "Hey, let go of my hands."

But the bed only squeaked a little faster, accompanied by the wet sounds of Joseph pounding into her. Michelle could hear the slurps of Amy around his cock, and the slapping of his belly on hers. She even imagined she could hear the slap of his heavy balls against Amy's ass as he thrust deeper and harder.

There was another crack, but this time Amy didn't protest. She responded with a deep moan of pleasure, her voice jiggling as her body was roughly shoved by Joseph's deep thrusting. A few more slaps only brought her voice up in pitch, and the bed was creaking like it might fall apart.

Then Amy let loose a cry of surprise that held definite pain. Michelle imagined Joseph must be biting her shoulder, or her breasts. But Amy was not protesting, her cries were as much of building lust as of pain, and Michelle pictured her thrusting back, pushing her body up against the thick cock that had impaled her.

"Ooooo! Ooooo! Oh, yes!" In her voice was the effort to control her pain, and the building crest of another orgasm.

"Ah -- Ow -- Ooooo!" Amy shuddered and gasped: Joseph was in a frenzy. He drove Amy hard against the bed, and the bed hard against the wall, and he was groaning, himself. Thrusting, shoving, pressing himself hard and deep, and releasing himself inside her. Michelle gasped against the wall, her knees buckling. The glass dropped away from the wall, and she just barely caught it. Her own vision awash with speckled light she sank to the floor, gasping herself.

And Amy's orgasm followed quickly, her voice wailing in pure ecstasy as she let herself go. Even without her ear to the wall, Michelle heard her wild cry of pleasure.

Weakly, Michelle returned to her bed. She didn't want to hear any more. She didn't want to hear their happy little laughs, or their murmured words of love. She just wanted to let the darkness of sl**p enclose her as quickly as possible.

The End
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Categories: BDSMFetishHardcore
Posted by wastedaway
4 years ago    Views: 271
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4 years ago