Ever since she had been a little girl, Lizzy Linley knew that there was something different about her. It wasn't an obvious difference; it didn't stand out like a child in her kindergarten class who had to wear special hearing aids in his ears. It wasn't even that her mother was bringing her up on her own -- there were several children she knew that came from single parent families.

But although she couldn't see the difference, Lizzy could feel the difference. She would often go up to her mother when she was able to walk and talk in complete sentences, and say: "Mommy, I'm different."

Every time, without fail, her mother would pick her up and sit her on her lap, give her a tight squeeze and, brushing her daughter's short, light blonde hair with her hands, say gently, "Yes, you are, Lizzy. We all are different. That's what makes us so wonderful as human beings. We are all unique."

No matter how many times she said it, no matter how many ways she said it, the response from her mother would still be the same; even when she was too big and heavy to sit on her mother's lap, Lizzy would still hear the same words repeated over and over again. She liked being told she was special; it thrilled her to think that she was the only one of her, that there would never be another like her.

Yet as she got older still her feelings slowly began to change. She knew she was different, she understood she was unique; the problem was she just couldn't see how she was different, how she was unique. She hated feeling like she wasn't the same as everybody else. It was nothing more than a feeling. She tried to explain it to her friends on several occasions, but they had just suspected she was going through the same things they were.

At eighteen, Lizzy somehow managed to obtain her first boyfriend, Paul. He was a nice boy, the same age as her, and they lived very close to each other, so they would often spend all their free time round each other's houses. At first they would just kiss and cuddle, but soon she began to notice more and more the hardening lump in his trousers. One of her friends had already lost her virginity to her first boyfriend, but Lizzy at that stage still didn't feel like she was ready for this momentous occasion. Paul, sweet as he was, told her not to worry and that they would only sleep together when she felt ready.

Her friends told Lizzy that, lovely as it was to have found a decent guy when all of theirs had been utter bastards only after one thing, they was still no reason why she and Paul couldn't mess around. So, a couple of days later, while her mother was out running a few quick errands, Lizzy took the plunge and told Paul that he could put his hands anywhere.

Though it felt weird having someone else try to bring her off with their fingers, and though it was Paul's first attempt at anything like this with a girl, Lizzy still came and felt as glorious as she always did. Paul seemed more than equally pleased; he had a big grin on his face for the rest of the day, and would do after every opportunity he had to finger her.

"Why do you always grin like that?" Lizzy asked him after taking the time to chill after a rather good session.

"I love the way I make you scream," he admitted. "I think it's a power thing."

"Oh really?" replied Lizzy in mock flirtation. "Perhaps I should see if I can make you scream like that!"

Paul laughed loudly. "God, I hope so," he said. "Though obviously it would be weird to make as much noise as you do."

This last comment of his confused Lizzy slightly. To her mind she didn't make THAT much noise when she came. By now she'd seen her fair share of late night erotica and, one drunken slumber party, a hardcore porn film involving two girls and one guy (the latter she'd found oddly discomforting -- obviously not bi then, she had thought). The noises the women had made in those movies, fake or not, were she thought the same level as to the noises she made when she came.

Eventually, more out of a silly fear of losing him than anything else, Lizzy decided the time had come to have sex with Paul. The experience was not altogether pleasant or totally comfortable -- she had been worn by her two de-flowered friends that there would likely be some "wear and tear down there" -- but having a thick cock inside of her compared to her own fingers was still an eye opener. What made it slightly less wonderful was that Paul wouldn't stop smiling that stupid Cheshire Cat grin of his for at least a week.


Time went by, and when Lizzy got to 21 she and Paul had kissed goodbye over mutual agreement, as they were both going to separate colleges. They stayed in touch and met up again over their holidays, but by then one of Lizzy's friends, who she'd known had always had a thing for Paul, had made her move. On one of their get together evenings with the rest of the old gang, after a few drinks, Lizzy began comparing notes with her friend over Paul's performance in the bedroom.

"Oh, he was so shit when we first met," Lizzy was surprised to hear her friend say. "I had to teach him so much -- but it was worth it!"

Lizzy told her friend she'd always enjoyed her time with Paul, whatever they had been doing.

"Well, I guess we're all different down there," here friend replied. "Maybe you're just easy to please?"

That comment hung around Lizzy's head like a fly around a dead horse. During her years at college she'd fooled around a little and had a couple of one night stands with boys, and no matter what she was up to, the end result had always been fantastic. She didn't think she had ever had bad sex; she had certainly never had to fake it, as she heard a lot of her friends sometimes did when they weren't really in the mood.

A few years went by; there was certainly no denying that, in terms of looks, Lizzy was incredibly different to the sweet, innocent three year old who had sat on her mother's knee. She had grown her beautiful blonde hair long, so that it stretched down to the small of her back, above her tight ass; and though she was slightly disappointed that her breasts had not grown as big as some of her friends' had, on the whole she was pleased with her pert 34Cs. Her whole body was toned and tanned from a sudden interest in her local gym, and that sudden interest's name was Zack.

He was a couple of years older than her, a personal trainer and was absolutely gorgeous. From the moment she'd spied him out of the corner of her eye during an induction course on the jogging machine, Lizzy knew she had to have him. Luckily, he had felt exactly the same way.

They went out for a couple of weeknights before lust overtook their senses and she gleefully returned to his place. When she peeled off his boxer shorts and found one of the largest members she had ever seen before she almost came on the spot with the mere thought of what it could do to her. True to her fantasy, the sex they had that night and early the next morning was everything she thought it would be and more -- passionate, hungry, satisfying. By this time in her life Lizzy was working for a magazine in the city; her work colleagues would always remind her that she walked into work that day looking incredible, surrounded by the post-sex glow that only comes from making love to someone who really gets you; although Lizzy would mainly remember that day for being so sore that she found it very difficult to sit down.

Within a few months the two of them had declared their undying love for each other, and she had moved into his amazing apartment, which she'd always teased him had been big enough for the two of them from the beginning. They celebrated by doing what they enjoyed best, which was each other.

Lizzy had heard the term 'nympho' many times, but she didn't really think she or Zack fell into the category. Sure, they both loved sex, but they were still at that early stage in a relationship where it was still exciting just to take off each other's clothes -- whatever they may have said about love, their night time activities were mainly still inspired by overwhelming lust.

On the third night, after a quick dinner of pasta and tomato sauce that was still laying half-eaten on plates in the kitchen, along with half a bottle of now lukewarm white wine, they were both back in the bedroom. Zack was taking his time and paying a lot of attention to Lizzy's small but beautifully shaped breasts, whish he'd always told her drove him crazy just to touch them, let alone drive her crazy by playing with them with his tongue as he was doing now. Lizzy lay under him, still half dressed, her head dangling slightly over the edge of his comfortable bed, her eyes closed; one arm outstretched, the hand caressing and grabbing the sheets; the other was exploring the back of her lover, going down under his still buckled trousers to get a stroke of his perfect ass.

Zack's tongue was working its magic, and Lizzy was about to attempt to take control and get him naked as quickly as possible so that she could put that wonderful cock of his in her mouth, when there was an almighty thumping at the front door that startled them both. Annoyed, Zack grudgingly got up off the bed, grabbing his shirt and quickly pulling it back over his strong chest, doing up two buttons for decency's sake.

Whoever it was, they were still pounding away when Zack reached the front door and opened it.

"Yes, Michael? What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible, his still half-erect lump swelling in his underwear demanding otherwise.

His next door neighbour, a rather old but usually quite sweet man, was standing in his dressing gown and beige pyjamas. Right now he looked about as far removed from sweet as you could get; he looked tired and pissed.

"Zack," he said slowly, tiredly, "for two nights I have been as patient as possible with you and your pet, but this is one night too far. Either you stop it from making those horrible sounds or I will call the landlord so fast..."

"Woah, ok, ok," said Zack, holding out a hand to stop his neighbour in his tracks. "What do you mean, 'pet'?"

"I mean that cat of yours, Zack! I don't know what else it could be...a bird maybe? You got a bird in there? Whatever's making those screeching noises, please, just shut it the hell up already!"

A slight flicker of realisation hit Zack's mind. "Michael, your bedroom...which side of the apartment is it?"

"What does that matter?" asked Michael, exasperated.

"No, but is it on the left side or the right side?"

"It's on the left of the building, but I don't see what that has to do with it. Just get it sorted, okay?"

"Okay, Michael," replied Zack, trying not to grin too much. "Sorry. I'll handle it, promise. Good night."

When Zack returned to the bedroom, Lizzy was sitting up in bed, the white cotton sheet over her body. He took her outstretched hand and kissed it lovingly, still attempting to hold back the laughter that was stuck in his throat.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"Michael was been kept up by my cat," he said, an eyebrow raised.

"But you don't have a cat," said Lizzy, puzzled.

"Well, he distinctly said its loud screeching was keeping him up."

"Screeching? I didn't hear anything...oh. Oh!"

Zack allowed the laughter to escape his body as Lizzy blushed furiously. She slapped his arm playfully.

"It's not funny, Zack!" she said, though she couldn't help smiling a little. "God, that dirty old man's been listening to us doing it every night?"

Zack put a finger to his lips. "Shush, his bedroom's right next door."

"Well, obviously you had shit contractors then. I thought you told me these apartments were sound proof?"

"They are," Zack replied. "Michael's never complained about noise from in here before."

"Oh? And has there been a lot of noise made in here before?" asked Lizzy teasingly, mock-innocently.

"What would you say if I told you there has been?" said Zack, casually stroking her smooth bare arm.

With her free hand, Lizzy removed the sheet from her body. She was completely naked underneath, her body looking as beautiful as the first time Zack had laid eyes on it, her mound shaved to perfection, her knees up, ready for him.

"I'd say it's time to make some more noise," she said, trying to sound sexy but giggling halfway through it at the enormous grin on her boyfriend's face and the sound of her own voice attempting to be husky and seductive.

Within minutes he was inside her, slowly but strongly, their hungry mouths exploring each other's neck, shoulders, tongue, lips. But now there was something not quite right -- not to Zack anyway. Lizzy was enjoying herself as much as she always did. It was a very vocal enjoyment, too. It was only as they allowed themselves, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, to come and collapse onto one another with satisfied exhaustion, that Zack realised what was bothering him so much.

He lay under the sheet mulling it over whilst Lizzy had a quick shower, part of her post-sex routine as she liked to call it. When she returned, her skin softer and still a little damp, her gorgeous blonde hair tied up in a bunch round the back of her head and smelling of almonds, and climbed in next to him, kissing him on the lips before resting her head on his bare chest, he decided to push the feeling out into the open.

"You know," he began, a little hesitantly at first, "I don't know if it's because of what Michael said or what but something just occurred to me: you really like sex, don't you?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"No, but you really like it, don't you? I mean, you're not afraid of letting other people know you like it."

"I do talk about it a lot, if that's what you mean..."

"I mean you make a lot of noise during sex, honey."

Lizzy lifted her head off of his chest and looked at him. "I've been told that before. My first boyfriend, this really sweet guy: Paul Founder. God, I wonder what he's doing now. Anyway, he said he liked the fact that I made those noises when we were fooling around. Does it bother you?"

"No, no way. I'm with Paul, I love being able to make you moan like that. It's such a turn on. You're good enough to be a porn star."

Lizzy frowned. "Thanks, but no thanks. Some of that stuff they do looks way too painful." She paused, then asked, a little quieter, " I really make a lot of noise?"

Zack smiled. "Yes, Lizzy, you do!"

"I've never really noticed it before -- I guess 'cos it's never been a bother to anyone before." She sat up straighter, wrapping her side of the sheet around her clean body. An old memory sparked back to life in her mind. "There was one time home..."

Zack waited patiently for her to finish, and squeezed her hand helpfully.

"It was the first time I'd ever really touched myself before," Lizzy continued slowly. "I'd never experienced anything like it before but something kept my mom up all night. She said it was some kind of loud animal or something outside; like a possum with an upset stomach, or someone being brutally murdered right in our front yard, or something. Every so often I've wondered what it could have been. Mom never complained about it again."

"Maybe she got wise to the situation," Zack suggested. "If there's one person who's bound to notice certain differences, its going to be your mother."

Lizzy began to blush again. "Shit, I've been making those noises since then? God, that's embarrassing."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, sweetheart," replied Zack reassuringly. "You just really love sex -- that's not a crime. People cum in many different ways. You wanna hear an ex-girlfriend story?"

"Seems only fair; you heard about Paul."

"Okay, so about three, four years ago I met this girl, Dawn her name was. She was very sweet, fairly innocent looking. We hooked up and went back to her place after our third date, and that's when I found out that she had the foulest mouth I'd ever seen on a girl. It was like 'Fuck, Zack, fuck me now, yeah you dirty bastard, I'm such a bad girl, spank me like Daddy used to, yeah, piss on me,' that kind of stuff."

Lizzy couldn't stop laughing at Zack's impression of his ex. He waited for her to calm down a little before continuing.

"So anyway after a while it started getting a little boring and, to be honest, quite creepy. The girl obviously had some daddy issues going on in her mind. But it just shows you how different we all are."

Lizzy shook her head. "It's always the quiet ones."

Zack grinned. "Not necessarily. You've proved that."

"Yeah, but I'm not normally a loud person though, am I? It's only when you're screwing me senseless."

"Maybe, but what the hell?"

They had been interrupted once again by a loud knocking on the front door, followed by the buzzing of the doorbell. Wrapping his dressing gown around him once more, and looking over at the clock to see it was now one in the morning, Zack crossed over to the front door and opened it, half-expecting to see Michael there. He was surprised to find two police officers, one with a big moustache, the other a larger, rounder man.

"Hello, officers. What's the problem?" Zack asked them cautiously.

"Good...morning, sir," said the moustached officer, briefly glancing at his watch. "I'm afraid we've had some complaints about noise from this apartment block. Specifically some kind of loud screeching, described to us as being like a wounded animal. Your neighbour said he felt the noises were coming from your apartment."

"What's going on?" asked Lizzy, herself dressed in a pink satin robe and walking towards the front door.

"Morning, ma'am," greeted the officer. "We're just following up on some noise complaints from this building."

Lizzy stopped dead in her tracks, stumbling a little as she did so. She felt her face burn bright red. "R...really?" she mumbled.

Zack felt his annoyance growing. "Officers, I'm sorry but I spoke to my neighbour earlier. The only reason he's complaining, frankly, is because his bedroom's right next door to ours..."

"Zack!" exclaimed Lizzy, even more embarrassed.

"No, Lizzy, it's the truth. If the walls weren't so thin he would never even have complained to me, let alone to you guys."

The fat police officer spoke for the first time. "Actually he wasn't the one who called us."

Zack was slightly baffled. "Oh, ok. Fine. Who was it then?"

The fat police officer pulled out a notepad from his pocket and, after flicking through a few pages with large black scribbled handwriting on them, found the information he was looking for. "Er, a Mrs Wood, Dr Lynne, Hector Sanchez, several others...all from Youngman Towers."

Zack's eyes widened. "Youngman Towers...but that'"

" mile away from here," the moustached officer finished for him.

Zack turned to look at Lizzy, who had gone from red to white very quickly. She felt like she needed to sit down very quickly.

"One mile away," she whispered. "Wow...shit!"

***** Two days later, the pair of them were sitting in a plush looking doctor's office, on rather uncomfortable black leather seats, legs crossed, holding hands, nervously watching the grey bearded middle aged Doctor Francis Taylor as he studied the paperwork closely in front of him.

Lizzy, completely embarrassed by what had happened two nights ago, had been the one to call the doctor's surgery for the series of tests she wanted done. Zack had had little say in the matter, but somehow she knew he would probably have suggested the same thing. They hadn't made love since that night, though -- Lizzy was too afraid that events would repeat themselves again too easily.

Every so often Doctor Taylor would say, "Hmm," and occasionally, "Aha," but it was ages before he actually looked up at the two people in front of him. "Well, this is certainly an interesting case. I must confess I've never seen anything quite like it before, though I have read about it in several medical journals."

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