Sound and the Fury

Sound and the Fury: NOT by William Faulkner

It was still raining. The sounds from the next room had stopped a few minutes ago. I was lying on the bed, covered with a single thin sheet. My erection was starting to fade now. The room was dark, except for a bright spot on the wall above my head, cast by the lamp on the terrace below. It must be after midnight, I guessed. I had removed my watch, along with my clothing, when I came in.

Four full days of continuous rain. What bad luck. I was scheduled to leave in two days and the forecast showed no sign of change. The weather was unusual for this time of year, or so the staff at the reception desk had indicated. The mood at the resort was somber, lots of disappointed tourists with too little to do.

I had come here for a business meeting and a welcome holiday; six days to myself, relaxing on the beach, swimming, reading. I had been looking forward to it, even though I would have preferred to have my wife with me. The hotel was probably less than half full, at best. It was the off-season. The room across the hallway was empty, as was the one opposite my bathroom. Only the room next to my sleeping area was occupied. A young couple on their honeymoon, Anna and Justin, had been staying there since my arrival. The three of us had spoken briefly on the shuttle bus from the airport.

I decided to get up and have a beer, maybe sit out on the balcony, watch the palm trees whip in the wind, and drink a toast to Anna and Justin. They had been a great source of pleasure during the past few days. Not that they new it. "To the couple next door," I said to the wind and rain, raising my glass. "Thanks for the fantasy."

On Tuesday I had braved the storm and gone for a swim in the ocean. I had needed to get out of my room. The beach was deserted. I had waded into the warm water and floated for a while, riding the waves. It was one activity that couldn't be dampened by the weather.

After drifting out about a hundred feet, I had turned to swim in a little closer to the shore. As I did, I noticed Anna and Justin wading in the shallow waves further up the beach, their backs facing me. There were both very good looking. Lucky couple, I thought, especially him. Anna was stunningly beautiful.

I floated in the waves, watching her, enjoying the sensations she produced in me. They were alone on the beach and didn't seem to have noticed my presence. They turned and walked back toward me. I noticed that she was topless. Her breasts were beautiful. I felt my cock harden.

As they neared I turned away, not wanting to intrude on their privacy any more than I already had. I swam a couple of hundred yards up the beach and waded out of the water. The two of them had seen me and turned around again. I headed for my room and a shower, feeling refreshed, visions of Anna dancing in my head.

I had heard very little from their room during the first two days of my stay. On Monday the rain had set in and confined me, as well as many of the hotel's other guests, inside for much of the day. I was lying on the bed, reading, when I began to hear the distinctive sounds of Anna and Justin making love; fucking, was more like it; rather vigorously, it seemed. I listened briefly then went back to my book, trying to ignore them. It didn't work. I moved to the couch in the sitting area, trying to escape the sounds. That didn't work, either.

After several attempts at reading the same page, I decided to give in to the distraction and simply enjoy it. They went at it for another ten minutes, and then the sounds ceased. I had been lying there with eyes closed, listening intently, as my cock swelled to a full throbbing state.

That evening, Tuesday, the scene had been repeated, me reading on the bed, Anna and Justin going at it in the next room. This time I remained on the bed, letting my mind wander, enjoying the sounds of their love making, fantasizing about Anna, missing my wife greatly.

Later that night they woke me. I looked at my watch in the dim light: 2:25 a.m. I could hear Anna moaning. A light sweat began to cover my body. I pulled the sheet off, laying on my back, naked, arms and legs spread. Their bed was banging softly against the wall between us, to the rhythm of their thrusting. It was incredibly arousing. I didn't move, just closed my eyes and listened, feeling myself swell to a full erection. Anna moaned in time with the banging on the wall. It was making me crazy. I pictured her body as I had seen it on the beach. Then suddenly they were silent.

I opened my eyes. My cock was pointed straight up, throbbing slightly with each beat of my heart. I thought about masturbating but decided against it. It felt good to be horny and frustrated. No doubt they would be at it again tomorrow. They would treat me to another performance. Why not let it build up, see how far sound and imagination could take me.

Wednesday night. The anticipation kept me awake, tossing in the bed, waiting, hoping that they would begin soon, fantasizing about Anna. I pictured her on her hands and knees, her long hair falling across her back, her ass raised to me as I held her by the hips. I remembered her moans of the night before, imaging that it was my thrusts making her cry out softly.

They were fucking again. I lay very still, listening intently, my cock throbbing, my entire body tingling with pleasure. Anna's moans of pleasure were in step with the thumping against the wall. Surely they must know I can hear this, I thought. Maybe that added to their excitement. If so, I was very glad to be of service.

Their intensity and pace increased and lessened in waves, going on for what seemed like quite a long time. I pictured Anna beneath me, lying on her back, eyes closed, her head turned to the side, while I kissed her breasts and fucked her. I imagined the pleasure of going down on her, bringing her to a powerful orgasm, watching her writhe as the muscles in her taut belly contracted.

Anna cried out loudly. She was coming. I listened, enjoying her pleasure, imaging how beautiful she looked at that moment, sensing my cock swell to bursting. I didn't touch it, just let it throb, enjoying the intense arousal.

They were quiet now. I imagined Anna above me, kissing and licking the tip of my cock as I watch. Her hair falls about her face as she takes me in her mouth. She holds the base in one hand, stroking and sucking in rhythm. I watch her breasts bouncing on my thighs, her nipples hard and beautiful. She looks into my eyes.

I continued to dream, picturing Anna, feeling an orgasm approaching as I lay naked on the bed, fully exposed, hands at my sides. My balls contracted and my cock pulsed as I shot several streams of cum straight up. I imagined it filling Anna's mouth, coating my shaft as she continues to stroke and suck me. What wonders the mind can produce, I thought.

Thursday. Their performance tonight had been much the same as the previous time. My fantasy of Anna had been different, though. I had pictured her on her back, legs bent and raised. I was lying across the bed, thrusting my cock into her as I stroked and teased her clit with my fingers. In my dreams, she moaned loudly with each thrust, slowly loosing control, and then coming hard. I imagined the feeling of her pussy contracting around my shaft as I continued to fuck her. Once again I had cum hard without touching my cock, just fantasizing. It had been so intense, so pleasurable.

I sipped at the beer, enjoying its coldness on this hot night. The wind was quickly drying the sweat that had covered my body. I was still naked, sitting in the shadows of the balcony. "Thanks again, you two," I repeated, quietly. "And bravo. How about an encore?"