Another dissatisfying supplement for not being pro enough to record
Posted: 26 Oct 2023 11:47
When signing up to this page, I thought that I would be a regular contributor and that my recordings would only get better and better as I adopted the more strategic approach to listening and recording among the people her. Turns out, I was more lucky than I realized back then to be living in a building with a large share of couples in their 20s and 30s. Now, having moved to a detached house, I will probably never hear anything from my bedroom for as long as we live here. We do, however, live in a small village sat next to the forest with a path going behind our house and all the other houses on our side of the street. Sun conditions mean that most houses probably have bedroom windows facing towards the path so, naturally, I have been hopeful that walking the dog along this path every night could lead to some results. Come fall, the evenings are so dark that I easily can stop to listen (and record) if I hear anything, whilst being fairly certain of not being seen.
But life is full of inner conflict and dilemmas, exemplified by the fact that I also have an ambition to reduce my screen time and am currently trying to make a principle out of not bringing my phone on these walks. The result is that I sometimes do and sometimes don't bring it. Murphy's law: The one time I finally hear anything, I do not have the phone with me. (Yes, I am aware of the solution here: Bring a recorder that is not a phone. I'm on it.)
I am not sure what I actually heard, or to be more precise, who I actually heard. It was from the house of a well integrated immigrant family (Eastern European) with mum and dad in their late 40s, a son old enough to move out and a daughter approaching 18. It surely sounded like clumsy, half-faking youth sex so I would guess the daughter, but it could have been the son and it could have been the parents although the latter is highly unlikely.
So, what did I hear? A soft moan, the kind where I wondered whether I actually heard it or imagined it. Then another, at which point I was certain, excited, breathing as quietly as possible in order to not miss out on anything. Then a third moan, louder, and this was when I started to think that the girl/woman was at least half-faking, I don't know how to describe it but her sounds where rather monotone, "thin", audibly self-aware and at times indicative of suppressed discomfort/pain and did not have the deep, natural authenticity of genuine pleasure. I was to be honest excited nevertheless, and what came next - escalating rhythmic bed squeaking and skin-meeting-skin-sounds (doggystyle?) - cannot be faked, even though the sounds were not very loud and only the occasional moan from the girl/woman - by this time surely faking and in more discomfort than pleasure - were clearly audible.
Then, the sound of a car occupying the soundscape for half a minute and when it had passed, the couple had gone quiet. I waited for another minute or so before the light in their room switched from probably only one bedside lamp to full lightning, signalling that they, for sure, were done. Having walked 10 or 15 meters along the path I heard them laughed and stopped again to hear them better, and when they laughed loud enough for me to hear it for the second time, the white knight inside me (constantly rivaling the creep standing outside windows to listen to sex) was kind of relieved that the girl/woman was having a good time after all. Then quiet.
But life is full of inner conflict and dilemmas, exemplified by the fact that I also have an ambition to reduce my screen time and am currently trying to make a principle out of not bringing my phone on these walks. The result is that I sometimes do and sometimes don't bring it. Murphy's law: The one time I finally hear anything, I do not have the phone with me. (Yes, I am aware of the solution here: Bring a recorder that is not a phone. I'm on it.)
I am not sure what I actually heard, or to be more precise, who I actually heard. It was from the house of a well integrated immigrant family (Eastern European) with mum and dad in their late 40s, a son old enough to move out and a daughter approaching 18. It surely sounded like clumsy, half-faking youth sex so I would guess the daughter, but it could have been the son and it could have been the parents although the latter is highly unlikely.
So, what did I hear? A soft moan, the kind where I wondered whether I actually heard it or imagined it. Then another, at which point I was certain, excited, breathing as quietly as possible in order to not miss out on anything. Then a third moan, louder, and this was when I started to think that the girl/woman was at least half-faking, I don't know how to describe it but her sounds where rather monotone, "thin", audibly self-aware and at times indicative of suppressed discomfort/pain and did not have the deep, natural authenticity of genuine pleasure. I was to be honest excited nevertheless, and what came next - escalating rhythmic bed squeaking and skin-meeting-skin-sounds (doggystyle?) - cannot be faked, even though the sounds were not very loud and only the occasional moan from the girl/woman - by this time surely faking and in more discomfort than pleasure - were clearly audible.
Then, the sound of a car occupying the soundscape for half a minute and when it had passed, the couple had gone quiet. I waited for another minute or so before the light in their room switched from probably only one bedside lamp to full lightning, signalling that they, for sure, were done. Having walked 10 or 15 meters along the path I heard them laughed and stopped again to hear them better, and when they laughed loud enough for me to hear it for the second time, the white knight inside me (constantly rivaling the creep standing outside windows to listen to sex) was kind of relieved that the girl/woman was having a good time after all. Then quiet.