Some moaning during sex shouldn't be eavesdropped on...

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

When we first got married, we lived with my mother-in-law for a while. One night, I heard a woman moaning next door. Listening closely, I realized it was my mother-in-law. The sound was suppressed but lewd, calling out, "Harder! Harder!" followed by moans of "Ouch, ouch," mixed with my father-in-law's heavy breathing. I woke my wife up so she could listen. She listened intently for a while, then pinched my butt hard, making me wince in pain, but I didn't dare make a sound, afraid my mother-in-law would hear. I said, "It's your mother, not me." My wife whispered, "Come on up!" I touched her, and she was soaking wet.
Later, I figured out the pattern of my mother-in-law's moans: mostly on Saturday nights. My wife also noticed this pattern; on Saturday nights, after 10 pm, she would urge me to go to bed early. I would say, "I'll read for a while before sleeping." My wife would glare at me. I had no choice but to obediently follow my wife into the bedroom, lie on the bed, and think about how my father-in-law, at his age, was still as virile as ever, making my mother-in-law scream with pleasure. My penis involuntarily swelled. My wife, clutching it, asked, "What are you thinking about now?" I laughed and said, "Nothing." My wife said, "Nothing? Why are you so hard?" I said, "Listen."
My mother-in-law was kind and gentle, and must have been a lady in her youth. I couldn't possibly connect her with those wanton moans. During the day, when we ate at the same table, while others ate quietly, I would glance at my mother-in-law. I always wondered if there was something wrong with my ears. But after a while, the moaning sounds would still come through at night. This often made me stare at my mother-in-law in a daze, like Newton staring at a falling apple. Once again, I was so engrossed in watching that I forgot someone was beside me. My wife, under the table, stomped on my foot hard. It hurt so much I almost dropped my bowl and cried out. Everyone at the table looked at me. I quickly clutched my stomach, saying it hurt. My mother-in-law, thinking I had indigestion, after dinner, anxiously fetched me some steroids. I took the steroids from her, looked at my wife, and wondered where she'd pinch me again tonight.
Trouble with my mother-in-law was inevitable. I always came home late to avoid being alone and awkwardly silent with my father-in-law or mother-in-law. I usually went home after my wife. That afternoon, I was out running errands and it was late to get back to work. I couldn't just sit on the roadside until dark, so I decided to go home anyway. I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and almost died of fright. My mother-in-law had just finished showering and was standing naked in the living room, drying herself. A woman in her forties, with fair, slightly sagging skin. She was a bit plump, with naturally large breasts, though somewhat droopy. In the center of her deep red areolas stood erect, dazzling nipples, and most importantly, they were huge, like dates—it seemed my father-in-law had been quite fond of them. I was stunned, standing dumbfounded at the doorway, forgetting to dodge.
"Quick, close the door!" My mother-in-law panicked. I'd forgotten to close the door; if anyone was in the hallway, they could see my naked mother-in-law. Luckily, no one was passing by. I turned around and closed the door. Only then did my mother-in-law react, turning and running into the nearest room, her round buttocks bouncing back and forth—damn it. Then, she slammed the door shut. My heart skipped a beat, thinking, "I'm innocent! This isn't my fault." I didn't know whether to go out or stay home. Just as I was at a loss, the door opened again.
My mother-in-law, covering her breasts with a bath towel, ran out to grab her bra and top from the sofa. In her panic, she ran into my wife's and my room; her clothes weren't there. I lowered my head, not daring to look at her, but I noticed a few glistening water droplets clinging to her pubic hair. There wasn't much pubic hair, not as thick as my wife's; maybe it's due to age and shedding, but I preferred to believe it was from my father-in-law rubbing it all down. My mother-in-law took her bra and top, then ran back to her room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
I stood in the living room, my mind blank. My mother-in-law's underwear lay on the sofa—the kind made of floral fabric, boxer-legged, very loose. It was wrinkled, already worn, and the area near her private parts was worn and damp. My mother-in-law must have been terrified; she'd lost things like that. I hesitated whether to take it inside for her or wait for her to come and get it herself. In
a flash of inspiration, I quickly hid in the kitchen. When I came out, the underwear was gone. Dinner was extremely somber. My mother-in-law had a long face, didn't speak, and ate with her head down. My father-in-law, seeing my wife's expression, also remained silent. My
wife asked me softly, "What's wrong?" I said, "I don't know!" I ate in silence, my heart pounding. If my mother-in-law were to tell my father-in-law that I did it on purpose, I'd be in deep trouble. Even if I had a silver tongue, I wouldn't be able to explain myself. Seeing my mother-in-law's silence, as if she were truly wronged, made the whole family feel sullen. I really wanted to strip naked and let her see me, just to even things out.
My mother-in-law didn't eat much, saying her stomach wasn't feeling well, and went back to her room to rest. Now it was my turn to find some steroids for her. But looking at my father-in-law sitting on my left and my wife on my right, I felt this wasn't the time for me to be attentive. It seemed natural for a mother-in-law to care for her son-in-law, but what were my intentions in caring for my mother-in-law? My father-in-law was still very energetic at night. My wife was at an age where she was prone to jealousy. If I
tried to be attentive between these two, it would be like going over their heads and violating organizational discipline. Dinner was a somber affair, and everyone left in a bad mood. My mother-in-law locked herself in her room. I don't know if she was genuinely embarrassed by my presence or simply annoyed. She even stopped watching her Korean drama. My father-in-law went for a walk alone, and my wife went back to her room to play on the computer. I sat alone on the sofa in the living room watching TV, thinking about what happened this afternoon. The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. I was afraid my mother-in-law might do something rash, or that she might suddenly decide to come out and stab me. Either way, I would die.
I turned the TV volume down very low and strained my ears to listen to any sounds coming from my mother-in-law's room, like listening to her moaning in the middle of the night. But I didn't feel as good as listening to her moan. Behind the seemingly calm surface, an earthquake could erupt at any moment. The sofa beneath me felt like a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. Tonight was passing so slowly; I felt suffocated.
My mother-in-law's door opened, and my heart pounded with tension. She went to the kitchen to get something, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to see if she was going to take a knife. As she walked past me, she whispered, "Don't tell Xiaoli." Xiaoli is my wife. I knew my mother-in-law wasn't stupid; she knew to keep secrets. I smiled at her. She ignored me and went back to her room. Having this personal secret with my mother-in-law made me feel like we were on the same side. At least she wouldn't try to kill herself. She wouldn't attack me with a knife either; my life wasn't in immediate danger. I felt like I'd been given a second chance at life, and I could finally watch TV easily—it was so damn good! I frantically pressed the remote, probably changing through all the ten thousand channels in the country.
Today wasn't my wife's horny day, so she didn't urge me to sleep. When she was in heat, she'd call me repeatedly, "Go to sleep, you have to go to work tomorrow." When a woman tells a man to sleep, it's definitely a verb, not a noun; the earlier you go to sleep, the harder it is. Today I saw my mother-in-law's naked bottom, and she'd been frowning all night. Even with my wife's strong libido, she wasn't in the mood for heat. I could finally lie on the sofa and relax with the remote. I flipped through over ten thousand channels, and Wang Xiaoya was still enthusiastically asking a man, "Are you sure?" The other channels were mostly selling kidney pills and breast enhancement products—it was all so boring.
I had no choice but to go back to the room and sleep. My wife was lying in bed; I thought she was asleep. But as soon as I lay down, she snuggled into my arms like a little sow and asked, "What's wrong with my mom?" I thought to myself, "Why are you so persistent? You're even more persistent than Wang Xiaoya." "How would I know what's wrong with your mom?" I said.
"No, you came back first, my dad came back after me, and when I got back I saw my mom was unhappy." "Really?" I said, "I didn't notice." I don't know who taught women to deduce things; they can deduce trouble even without any real problems. My wife insisted I ask her what was wrong with her mom. I kept saying I didn't know, as resilient as a captured underground party member. If I told her, she'd beat me up. Thinking about it, it's pretty unlucky. My mother-in-law came into the living room naked after taking a shower. It seems like I'll either die at my mother-in-law's hands or my wife's. There's another old guy; if he finds out, it'll be a death sentence for me. "Hmph!" she angrily shoved me away. "You must have done something to my mother!" Hearing that, I knew I was doomed; I was destined to die unjustly today. I had to help her analyze the situation; men's IQs are surely higher than women's, right? "Is your mother on her period?" I asked.
She said, "My mother went through menopause a long time ago."
I tried to think with a man's intelligence, saying, "Could she be pregnant?" She kicked me, "Your mother's the one who's pregnant!" My logic was a bit muddled; menopause means she can't get pregnant.
I thought to myself, let Sherlock Holmes analyze this for your mother, but even if Holmes tried to figure me out, he'd be doomed. My mind raced, and the phrase "unplanned pregnancy" came to mind. I muttered to myself, "Could it be an unplanned pregnancy?" "An unplanned pregnancy only happens when the condom breaks," my wife explained impatiently, her tone incredibly professional. Then she kicked me again, harder than the first time. I winced in pain, cursing my mother-in-law in my heart: It's all because you were naked! I guess I underestimated my wife's intelligence. I had to take this seriously, or I'd be in full casts by dawn. I said, "When I came back, your mother was on the sofa, looking at something." "What?" My wife perked up.
"A letter, I guess," I said, thinking. "Where did the letter come from?" my wife pressed. "I didn't notice. Your mom went back to her room when she saw me come in," my wife
said, leaning against the pillow, thinking about what I had said. Seeing her doubtful expression, I thought, "Since I'm making this up, I might as well go all the way." She continued, "Your mom forgot the envelope on the sofa." The mention
of the sofa suddenly made sense to me. Your mom had indeed left something on the sofa—a pair of floral underwear with a water stain.
"An envelope?" My wife took this clue very seriously. "Didn't you see where the envelope came from?" Thinking of my mother-in-law's floral underwear, the rest of the story fell into place. I said, "I glanced at it when your mom came out to get it."
I did indeed glance at it; I saw your mom's pubic hair, and water droplets on it, shimmering. "What did you see?" my wife pressed. If my wife were in the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, she'd definitely be a master investigator, but unfortunately, I ruined her. "The signature seemed to be from Beijing, but I didn't see it clearly," I said casually. Actually, what I saw was the place where you were born and raised. "My mother's lover!" my wife muttered to herself. I was startled, unable to believe my ears, and repeated, "Whose lover?" "My mom's," my wife said irritably. I hadn't quite grasped it yet; after asking around, I'd ended up finding out about my mother-in-law's lover. Who cares whose lover it is, as long as she doesn't think I'll do anything to your mom. It took me a while to recover, and I said, "How old is your mom? She still has a lover?" "She couldn't have one when she was young!" Her tone was even more arrogant than if her mom didn't have a lover, leaving me speechless. "Wait a minute!" Before I could speak, my wife added, "The lover in Beijing is my dad's." Ugh! Had I been having nightmares all day? Date
-sized nipples, water droplets on pubic hair, water stains inside my underwear, my mother-in-law's lover—it was giving me severe oxygen deprivation. I was about to pass out. Let me wake up first. My wife, however, was in the middle of it all, not willing to give up, staring at the ceiling, wondering, was it her mother's lover or her father's? What a good cadre from the Discipline Inspection Commission!
Last night I drank too much, completely drunk. A woman whose husband was away on a business trip took me to her house, and while I was drunk, she tried to rape me. I ended up vomiting everywhere in her house, the smell was unbearable. She spent ages cleaning up. Even in the freezing cold, she had to keep the windows open for ventilation. After she finished, she got into bed with me. First, she stripped me naked, then she stripped herself naked too. She was ready to have her way with me, grabbing my penis and fiddling with it for most of the night, even rubbing her foreskin until it was swollen, but it was still limp.
Furious, she threw down my penis, saying, "I can't be bothered with you," and pulled a dildo from the bedside table to play with herself. I stared at a naked woman in bed, unable to get an erection. Thinking about how a "steel gun," after all these years, could actually be impotent, that's really not like me. I told my wife to go to sleep.
My wife was upset about whether the letter was written by her mother or her father's lover. I figured today was the day my mother-in-law would call me in bed. So I said, "Wait a bit, when your dad and mom have sex, your mom will be happy." My wife thought about it and said, "That's true. Let's sleep." She put her hand down on my genitals and exclaimed in surprise, "Still so hard today!" I thought to myself: Of course, my mind is full of your mother's pubic hair, how could it not be hard?
I was exhausted by the letter from my mother-in-law's lover. I was sleepy and wanted to go to sleep. But my mother-in-law's pubic hair, glistening with moisture, swirled in my mind. It caused fatal damage to a certain area of my brain, causing a nerve to run directly to my penis, resulting in my penis remaining erect. My mother-in-law's sparse pubic hair became my mental bullwhip. If it didn't go down before dawn, I'd have to chop it off. My wife, holding this hard thing, was quite happy. She lifted her leg and took off her underwear. After we got married, my wife's body fat gradually increased. Her movements weren't as nimble as when she was a young girl. But even something as difficult as taking off her underwear—bending her knees, arching her back, and reaching her hands over her feet—was handled with such dexterity and elegance. She pulled my hand to her pubic area, saying, "Come on! It's wet." It seemed her mother's lover's letter hadn't affected her hormones. I truly admire my wife; she's practically a sex machine. Even the biggest events don't disrupt its operation—how wonderful! I didn't want to touch her genitals and tried to pull my hand back, saying, "Tomorrow's Saturday, I'm playing cards with my friends!" I've always had the impression that touching a woman's private parts will ruin your luck the next day. So, for important events, like meeting an important leader or buying lottery tickets, I absolutely mustn't touch my wife's genitals the night before. And definitely not while playing cards; if I do, I can't play at all the next day. My wife didn't care about any of that, pulling my hand to rub against her genitals. After a few rubs, she started moaning softly. Damn! This machine is too good. I thought, "Oh no, I'm doomed." Who knows how bad this will turn out tomorrow?
My wife took my hand and vigorously rubbed it under her pubic hair, looking quite pleased with herself. My hands were soaked, but I didn't say anything. My wife's pubic hair is indeed thick, black, soft, and shiny. Flat, naturally curly. If she were a spokesperson for a shampoo brand, she'd definitely create a world-famous name. Logically, my mother-in-law's pubic hair should also be thick, conforming to the laws of genetics. However, my mother-in-law's pubic hair is not only sparse but also yellowish, barely concealing the slightly reddish skin underneath. It's practically been trampled into a wasteland by my father-in-law. If she wanted to be a spokesperson, she could only be for those newly opened hair regrowth factories. Only naturally curly hair is like my wife's. At first glance, it's hard to believe my wife didn't seem to have been born from this vagina.
My wife was masturbating with my hand, making it all wet. I lay beside her, doing nothing, thinking about my mother-in-law's naked body, my penis hardening. In no time, my wife had herself dazed and moaning. I didn't want to get on top, thinking, "I'll wait until she climaxes, then I can go to sleep." Think about it. Her breasts are still the same breasts, I've been massaging them for years. They're still the same size.
Her lips are still the same lips, I've been kissing them for years. They still taste the same. Her vulva is still the same vulva, I've been playing with it for years. It's still the same tightness. The movements are the same, the amplitude is the same, the tightness is the same. I know in advance when to mount her and when to step down. It's utterly boring. Unlike a newly acquired lover, whose weight and tightness are always new sensations. With my wife, it's all so mundane. When we first got married, it was fine; we bought countless pornographic films like treasures, learning and inventing new techniques on her. But after a while, the creativity faded. Every day, sex became monotonous, like a machine: erection, mount, ejaculation, off. Like a wind-up doll; once the spring is wound up, it's time to sleep. Repeating the same action day after day became increasingly tedious. Gradually, I learned to slack off, avoiding going up whenever possible. I closed my eyes and imagined my mother-in-law, her pubic hair worn thin, yet still attracting my father-in-law to climb up and mess around. There must be some secret treasure hidden in that old well. Suddenly, a thought popped into my head: what kind of treasure was hidden in my mother-in-law's old well? I was startled by my own thought; if I kept thinking about it, one day I'd definitely kill my mother-in-law.
I quickly looked at my wife beside me. She was gripping my hand, making her final push, her legs pressed together, her body tense, squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt. Clearly, she had reached orgasm. I breathed a sigh of relief, just about to go to sleep. My wife said, "It's your turn." "Didn't you already orgasm?" I said. "That was just the prelude, a little climax first." Damn, so it was just a warm-up, her crotch is an engine! I said I was tired and wanted to sleep. My wife gripped my swollen penis and said, "As long as you're tired, it's fine." Saying that, she pulled my penis onto her. I had no choice but to climb on top; if I didn't, she could rip my penis off. My wife skillfully spread her legs, saying, "I have to make you soft, so you won't be unruly when you see some slut during the day." Saying that, she squeezed me with her crotch. It seems she needs to put me in the washing machine to spin dry every day before she's satisfied. How vicious.
There are four reasons why you haven't heard it:
1. Your father-in-law doesn't have sex;
2. Your father-in-law has sex, but your mother-in-law doesn't moan;
3. The wall is too thick;
4. You have hearing problems.
The first two reasons are incurable; if they don't have sex or moan, how could you hear them?
For the third reason, you could thin the wall, but that's too much work—not worth it just to hear moaning.
For the fourth reason, I suggest trying a hearing aid at night.

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Some moaning during sex shouldn't be eavesdropped on...

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