The walls are thin, I hear her sin.

The walls are thin in this apartment,
Whispers and moans echoing through the night.

The woman next door, I hear her movements,
Feel her pleasure vibrating through our shared wall.

Her gasps, her cries, her moans of delight,
They haunt me, awakening my own desires,
Alone she seems, or so it may appear.

But her moans reveal she's fulfilling her fire.

I envision her lying across crimson sheets,
Body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

One hand traversing curves and valleys sweet,
While the other teases her sensitive clit.

Lost in the throes of solo passion,
Her back arches, hips grinding the air.

As dexterous fingers work their magic,
Swirling around her slickened lair.

One gasp, one cry, that pleading "fuck me,"
Makes my thoughts wander as her moans grow loud,
I know her longing, her primal need.

To escape reality's mundane shroud.

I picture her hand increasing its speed,
Strumming herself into a fevered state.

Her free hand rises to knead her needs.

As her cries become uncontrollably frantic.

Her moans escalate, reaching fever pitch.

And I can't resist joining in,
My own body responding to the sonic throe.

As her screams ring "fuck me" again and again.

In that moment, our solitudes merge,
Through these thin walls, connected in desire,
As she reaches her climatic surge.

An orgasm rips through me, primal and dire.

The walls are thin as parchment here,
As her rapture finds vocal expression.
I imagine her release, back arched in ecstasy,
Face contorted in a rictus of passion's transgression.

Her wails grow louder, more intense,
I know she's nearing her sweet release.
My hardness throbs with her descents,
Into the throes of carnal caprice.

We're climbing together, nearly there,
Approaching our shared, fierce sublime.

Until her howl breaks through the air,
The pinnacle of our pleasure-time.

That crescendo of shattering bliss,
Triggers my explosive apex too.

Our eruptions merging in explicit union,
My seed joins hers, our pleasures consummated.

As the moans fade to night's silence,
I'm coated in our shared rapture,
For in this place, the walls may be thin,
But we'll never see, only hear the other's sin.

Though just plaster separating our lustful flames,
We're united in orchestrating pleasure's refrains.

Visages unknown, our bodies a mystery,
Yet our cries of ecstasy bind our history.

The walls may divide these solitary dances.

But they cannot sever our intimate trances,
We'll never make eye contact in carnal delight.

But our harmonies will merge into the night.

Strangers divided, our faces a riddle,
Yet when passions take hold, our voices straddle.
The line between unknown and intimately twined,
By the primal cries our pleasures have entwined.