Dylan looked at his watch as the cab pulled up to the front door of his apartment building. He was tired, a little drunk, and not in any mood to deal with anything or anyone that would get between him and his bed. It was almost five in the morning, and his shift had been particularly uneventful. His visit to one of the after-hours pubs he knew of had been equally uneventful, and so he he had resigned himself to just getting home, somehow managing to sleep and getting up the next day, ready to protect some pharmacy from the never-ending threat of junkies willing to bust through armored glass just to get their hands on a couple of hundred-thousand dollars worth of prescription drugs.
"Fuck." he whispered to himself as he shut the door of the cab and hunched his shoulders. His head sunk down into the collar of his jacket. The cold winter wind was picking up again, and the late winter "Blahs" were starting to take hold as he's been working nights for over two months now.
Dylan removed his key from his pocket and as quietly as he could, slid the key into the doorknob and gave it a slow turn. His roommate Tim had warned him earlier to be quiet getting home as his mom would be visiting and would be sleeping on the couch. Dylan heard the lock "click" and he slowly opened the door. He saw the couch along the far wall of the living room had beside it an open suitcase with what he assumed to be Tim's mom's clothes for her stay. The couch had an extra pillow and a blanket which was thrown over the back of the couch. Curiously, there was no one sleeping on it.
"That's odd." Dylan thought to himself as he quietly slipped off his shoes and tip-toed his way to his bedroom.
He crept down the hallway, passing Tim's room and passed through his own bedroom door. He peeled off his coat, dropped it on the floor and was about to unbutton his shirt when he heard it.
Dylan froze as his eyes opened wide and then narrowed into his usual suspicious expression that he wore each night at work. He turned slightly and peered through his own open door and down the hallway which was only lit by the moonlight seeping in through his own window.
"Ahhh, Ohhh." the voice said again.
Dylan continued to unbutton his shirt as he turned to face his door and take a step toward the hallway. His breath suddenly became very deep and even as he stood in the archway of his door. He listened intently to the darkness and stared at his own silhouette that formed on the floor in front of the door to Tim's bedroom. The door was mostly shut, but he could see that it was open slightly, just under an inch.
Dylan mouthed a silent "what the fu-" as he heard the indistinct voice of a female moan and whimper.
"Oh god, yeah, that's it." the voice said in a raspy, high-pitched whisper.
Dylan was an analytical guy. The possible explanations for what he was hearing began racing through his head while the evidence he had seen and heard on his way to his room stacked up in his memory. He decided to put all that on hold while he walked like a ninja down the hallway and stopped right beside the door to his roommate's room. Dylan crossed his arms, and leaned up against the wall. His face was a few inches from the doorframe as he struggled to regulate his breathing and concentrate on what his ears were telling him. Soon, he heard something else. The sound of thumping.
Tim's bed is not on a frame, Dylan remembered. It was a simple box spring with a mattress on it. As shitty as it looked, it was much better suited to keeping sex quiet than some cheap frame. He heard another muffled squeal.
Looking at his watch, Dylan realized he was home somewhat later than usual, and that lately he had been getting into the habit of waking up his girlfriend after he got off work for some private time of their own. That might explain Tim's reasoning for inviting his own girlfriend Sara over for a night together. But the empty couch in the living room was stabbiing into Dylan's mind like an icepick.
"This is not possible." he thought to himself. Having never met Tim's mom, Dylan was unable to picture what exactly might be happening behind the door he was standing beside. He was afraid to even contemplate the thought. His curiousity was starting to play on his mind. His hand reached out, and made contact with the door. He pulled his hand back, shaking his head and trying to gather his composure. At this point, he was also aware of his own cock pushing against the fabric of his trousers. Looking down, he saw a black tent bulging out of his pants. The thumping was intensifying.
"Oh Tim, yessssss!" the voice was no longer being quiet. It wasn't a yell, but it was way beyond a whisper. Dylan's hand came down to his fly...
To Be Continued....