Two Family House

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 left side. The layout of the houses were 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 I assumed that the walls were soundproof. They were a really nice couple and always smiled and said hello whenever we saw each other or happened to be on our shared front porch. Well, eventually they decided to move to a retirement home, and the house became vacant. A really cute young couple moved in, and on the 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 was using my stethoscope as well, and that meant I felt like I was in the room with them. Now why, you might ask, did this revelation about the lack of soundproofing shock me? Well, being single and young, I was masturbating almost every day, mostly at night, and am a really vocal person when doing so, having been known to almost scream at the point of orgasm. This meant my previous neighbors must have not only known what I was doing, 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 at me. Now the tables were turned, and I made sure I was as quiet as a church mouse whenever they were home, and we became good friends as well and often had dinner together and shared drinks on the front porch. At no time did I tell Hank and Mary that I could hear them, and the reason for this was to become even more obvious when they had been there only a week. Hank came home one night after work at about 7 pm, and I could hear them talking louder than usual in the bedroom. Out came the trusty stethoscope, and I was glued to their wall listening to every word. OMG, he was telling her in no uncertain terms that she was in trouble over her credit card bill and that he’d have to deal with it in the usual way. What was that, I wondered?

“Get ready,” was all he said, but she pleaded and begged 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 again and again, which at the time confused me, but which later became very clear to me. The strange sound, followed by a few seconds silence, was followed by the same swishing noise but then immediately changing to a loud crack, which I was quick to realize was a cane landing on bare flesh. Mary let out a loud yelp, and five more equally horrific strokes fell on her bum as her cries grew louder and louder. The images this threw up in my mind were exciting and strange at the same time. There seemed to be silence for several minutes after her caning and then low moans and what sounded 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 they couldn’t hear me, and masturbated like I had never done before. The best orgasm I’d had to that point ensued. I just couldn’t sleep that night with all those images flying around in my head. The lovemaking and canings continued for months, but still I kept silent about it, hoping they would never know. Well, one night while he was caning her, and my stethoscope was, as usual, planted firmly against their wall, when I sneezed as loudly as I ever had in my life. The room next door suddenly went 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 the houses. My doorbell rang, and I leapt out of bed in shock. There, standing in her bathrobe, was Mary. All she did was look at me and say, “Hank would like to see you now!” I was in 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 the 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 bedroom where all my fantasy images were now revealed.

There was a large sofa chair with its back facing me and a cane laid on top of it. It was long and looked whippy, which of course it was, which he walked over to and picked up. “Take off that nightie, Judy! You won’t be needing that!” I didn’t speak, because I couldn’t. I did as I was told and then he ordered me to bend over the sofa back and put my head way down on the seat. I was terrified, but wet with the realization that what he was doing to me I had heard him do to her many times. Then the expected swishing of the cane a couple of times and the tapping of my exposed bum, before I felt the first stroke land. How the hell could she have stood such pain. I felt like hot oil had been poured in a straight line across the middle of my bum. Hank started to lecture me between strokes about the trust I had betrayed by not telling them about the walls and the lack of soundproofing, and how friends didn’t keep secrets like this etc. etc. I didn’t care, because the pain was so awful, but did have to agree that I had let them down and deserved this, even though my bum would have disagreed. He gave me six horrific strokes spaced about a minute apart to let them sink in and then started to rub me not only on the 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 dressed and fled the house. Mary was waiting at the front door, smiling. “Did he make you cum? He always does with me.” Now I finally knew what the silence after the caning and the low moans were all about. My embarrassment was complete. We became firm friends after that, and my trips over his dreaded sofa became a regular event