Edging and Humping While Listening to My Mom’s Moans
Posted: 05 Jan 2024 05:59
I was raised very sheltered. I don’t remember when I began noticing my parents’ sex, but they did not have a great relationship so it was not frequent. Soon I began to notice what would come before a session (showering, “going to bed” early, mom wearing makeup at night) and I would find an excuse to go upstairs as my room was at the end of the hall. Sometimes I would be clawing to stay awake hoping to catch something, sometimes it would start straight away. But nothing beat the feeling of finally hearing a whisper of a moan and feeling my stomach drop with arousal and my heart race. My pussy would HURT with how fast I became aroused.
I still fantasize about this setup: I used to get out of bed and get naked, laying on the floor by my closed door trying to hear better. I liked to get into positions that felt sexy since I had never actually *seen* sex before. Usually this was my legs in the air, sometimes even I’d push my hips up a wall to try to get almost upside down which for some reason felt very nice to me. Maybe something about really spreading myself open.
I would try to not touch myself if I didn’t hear anything, and pick it back up with the intensity that I heard. I would get so wet listening to my mom. She made these almost animalistic sounds, not porn-y at all. I’m kind of grossed out thinking about the dad aspect of it so I don’t focus on it, but I liked how their sounds came together anyway and how it painted a picture of what might be going on.
I kind of got addicted to that feeling of extreme arousal and excitement from something I couldn’t just access any time I wanted to. I would stay up until 4am sometimes just edging myself to bliss and then having as many orgasms as I could after that, humping blankets or furniture in my room.
There is one occasion that stands out from the rest, and I want to highlight my actual experience since it’s so easy to focus on the other half of the equation behind the wall or door. My room was upstairs with theirs, but at the other end of the hall. Mine and my sibling’s bathroom was right next to their bedroom however.
Usually I’d listen behind my closed door, but sometimes I’d get so horny and daring (or just not be able to hear well enough) and I’d venture to the bathroom.
One of my favorite memories of doing this was when my parents actually left their bedroom door cracked. I could hear okay, but I was so wet. I liked to let my wetness soak my thighs, and this night I was wet to the knees. I walked to the bathroom feeling like I must be breathing so loud, my heart pounding out of my chest. I just wore a big enough t-shirt to cover myself just in case but I felt so exposed.
I kept the bathroom door completely open and laid a towel on the ground, laying down with my head in the open doorway maybe two feet from the parents’ door. I wish I had a recording so bad of what my mom sounded like. She made these steady even low groans of pleasure that sounded almost meditative. I think my dad was going down on her. They had these triangle wedge pillows to put her hips up at an angle and I now know that the very deep wet sound was from the angle of the fingers going into her while she was being feasted upon. As opposed to a higher pitched softer wet sound from usual wet friction. A *shulk* type wet sound.
I put my legs as far back as they could go braced between the cabinets and the wall. I used my index finger to find the sweet spot on the left side of my clit. If I find the exact right speed and flicking motion, changing *nothing*, I can ride white hot, unbelievable, holy pleasure without cumming. But the second I forget to breathe regularly, tighten up, or vary my speed/movement, I’ll cum. This was one of those magical nights where I managed to hold it together, listening to my mom seemingly lost in a similar state of tear-inducing bliss. Her groans and breathy grunts and whines seemed to go in time with the swollen throb of my pelvic muscles as I focused on simply *feeling*.
When the air would kick on, I swore I could sense the sweet smell of women’s sweat mixed with a bit of musk from their cracked bedroom door, along with the familiar and addicting smell of my own arousal sweeping up from my spread legs.
Closer to orgasm, as my parents are clearly fucking with my moms hips raised on that pillow to reach her g-spot, she begins to sound absolutely drunk with pleasure with lots of “yeahyeahyeah” and shocked gasps when she gets fucked just right.
Since I liked to cum when she would, her noises of ramping up had me tempted to stop my careful edging. This night is so memorable because instead of cumming, they actually ramped back down, and I was able to continue giving myself over to bliss. This was the first of many times tears would be streaming down my face from how good I felt. The pure hot thrumming CONSISTENT pleasure of that night is something I never stop chasing. I loved feeling my wetness drip down my ass and soak my lower back and the towel underneath me. I loved how swollen my clit grew. I loved how wet my hands were, soaked in my unending lust.
Alas, of course we must reach the bittersweet end. AN end. Because as my mom ramped back up to cumming and I could actually hear the insane wetness from the bedroom from her own wet thighs being pounded from behind, she started saying over and over “oh my pussy feels so good, my pussy feels so good” that babble pushed me over the edge with a back-cracking orgasms that felt like punch after punch in my pelvis, aftershocks just as strong as a normal orgasm.
And that’s why I said “AN end. ” Because just like I said, I liked to keep cumming as much as I could after that.
When I was sure I could stand, I could still hear them whispering to each other, and I took the towel from the ground and draped it over the corner of the bathroom sink. I climbed up, straddling the corner and the towel, letting my legs and feet plank behind me off the ground so that all the weight was on my pussy, providing a deep pleasure as if I was being penetrated since the nerves of my clitoris were carrying that pleasure throughout the internal structure, already engorged and sensitive from edging so long. I’ve heard men can feel something similar by humping this way with the penis facing down and putting pressure on the base of the shaft while rocking/squeezing.
I can cum as much as I want humping like that with my legs in the air. The towel was wet and warm, and my mom’s words were failing her. It was more of her trying to say something but being blocked by her own pleasure, a syllable turning to a moan, quickening in pace. She’d begun whining more saying “I can’t be—I can’t believe this—I can’t believe it” I assume just about how good she was feeling, especially since this had gone on for about three hours.
I scissored my legs open and closed feeling that delicious sparkling pressure build very slowly as I was more in control this way. When I open my legs I could hear my own wetness which of course drove me crazy. When my dad’s groans joined in with my mom’s increasingly higher pitched whimpering babble, I came again, HARD, because humping orgasms always are so intense for some reason. I shifted a bit to let my body recover, focusing on listening more intently. It did not take long for me to want to climb back up on my counter when she started saying “my pussy, my pussy” over and over again. I feel like my dad was enjoying getting these reactions out of her or anyone else would have finished by then. I could hear him get worked up and then take deep breaths clearly trying to last longer.
This time I kept my legs mostly closed, just letting the pressure and mental stimulation do all the work of getting me off. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I could see myself in the mirror, soft pussy mound swallowing my little corner hungrily. I rocked a little bit, seeing my ass and legs clenched in pleasure hovering off the ground. I came soon after, mom and dad now exchanging desperate moans and groans.
I became less controlled after that, each of the probably six or seven more times I came including me pumping my legs open and closed, sometimes with more of an up and down motion as I used my hands gripped on either side of the counter to help me grind more thoroughly. If I want it to last longer, I’ll stay balanced straddling the corner with my feet off the ground still, but with my legs spread wide to let the sensation slowly build in hot, sweeping waves through my whole body as the pleasure between my legs mixes with the nearly incapacitating excitement created by my mom’s earnest, steady groans and occasional panting. My mom’s orgasm is a poorly muffled yell and my dad is not far behind. Sometime between the two orgasms, I bring my spread legs completely together, and that alone makes me almost cry out as my pelvic muscles and core violently, rhythmically contract.
Before they can settle, I climb off my counter still throbbing, and trickle of wetness whispers down my inner thigh.
During their post-sex giggles and bedtime rituals, I quickly and quietly go back to my room. I don’t clean myself up and I hump my hands a couple times before passing out.
After reading about people’s overheard parent stories, reading about people becoming aroused and masturbating at the same time always take me back to those memories. As much as I love hearing the hot things people happen to hear and see, what really brings me to a forum like this is the relatability and depth behind this kink.
Please allow my story to stir up memories for you and put you in touch with even a fraction of those first butterflies you ever felt hearing sex for the first time. And, please—do share!
I still fantasize about this setup: I used to get out of bed and get naked, laying on the floor by my closed door trying to hear better. I liked to get into positions that felt sexy since I had never actually *seen* sex before. Usually this was my legs in the air, sometimes even I’d push my hips up a wall to try to get almost upside down which for some reason felt very nice to me. Maybe something about really spreading myself open.
I would try to not touch myself if I didn’t hear anything, and pick it back up with the intensity that I heard. I would get so wet listening to my mom. She made these almost animalistic sounds, not porn-y at all. I’m kind of grossed out thinking about the dad aspect of it so I don’t focus on it, but I liked how their sounds came together anyway and how it painted a picture of what might be going on.
I kind of got addicted to that feeling of extreme arousal and excitement from something I couldn’t just access any time I wanted to. I would stay up until 4am sometimes just edging myself to bliss and then having as many orgasms as I could after that, humping blankets or furniture in my room.
There is one occasion that stands out from the rest, and I want to highlight my actual experience since it’s so easy to focus on the other half of the equation behind the wall or door. My room was upstairs with theirs, but at the other end of the hall. Mine and my sibling’s bathroom was right next to their bedroom however.
Usually I’d listen behind my closed door, but sometimes I’d get so horny and daring (or just not be able to hear well enough) and I’d venture to the bathroom.
One of my favorite memories of doing this was when my parents actually left their bedroom door cracked. I could hear okay, but I was so wet. I liked to let my wetness soak my thighs, and this night I was wet to the knees. I walked to the bathroom feeling like I must be breathing so loud, my heart pounding out of my chest. I just wore a big enough t-shirt to cover myself just in case but I felt so exposed.
I kept the bathroom door completely open and laid a towel on the ground, laying down with my head in the open doorway maybe two feet from the parents’ door. I wish I had a recording so bad of what my mom sounded like. She made these steady even low groans of pleasure that sounded almost meditative. I think my dad was going down on her. They had these triangle wedge pillows to put her hips up at an angle and I now know that the very deep wet sound was from the angle of the fingers going into her while she was being feasted upon. As opposed to a higher pitched softer wet sound from usual wet friction. A *shulk* type wet sound.
I put my legs as far back as they could go braced between the cabinets and the wall. I used my index finger to find the sweet spot on the left side of my clit. If I find the exact right speed and flicking motion, changing *nothing*, I can ride white hot, unbelievable, holy pleasure without cumming. But the second I forget to breathe regularly, tighten up, or vary my speed/movement, I’ll cum. This was one of those magical nights where I managed to hold it together, listening to my mom seemingly lost in a similar state of tear-inducing bliss. Her groans and breathy grunts and whines seemed to go in time with the swollen throb of my pelvic muscles as I focused on simply *feeling*.
When the air would kick on, I swore I could sense the sweet smell of women’s sweat mixed with a bit of musk from their cracked bedroom door, along with the familiar and addicting smell of my own arousal sweeping up from my spread legs.
Closer to orgasm, as my parents are clearly fucking with my moms hips raised on that pillow to reach her g-spot, she begins to sound absolutely drunk with pleasure with lots of “yeahyeahyeah” and shocked gasps when she gets fucked just right.
Since I liked to cum when she would, her noises of ramping up had me tempted to stop my careful edging. This night is so memorable because instead of cumming, they actually ramped back down, and I was able to continue giving myself over to bliss. This was the first of many times tears would be streaming down my face from how good I felt. The pure hot thrumming CONSISTENT pleasure of that night is something I never stop chasing. I loved feeling my wetness drip down my ass and soak my lower back and the towel underneath me. I loved how swollen my clit grew. I loved how wet my hands were, soaked in my unending lust.
Alas, of course we must reach the bittersweet end. AN end. Because as my mom ramped back up to cumming and I could actually hear the insane wetness from the bedroom from her own wet thighs being pounded from behind, she started saying over and over “oh my pussy feels so good, my pussy feels so good” that babble pushed me over the edge with a back-cracking orgasms that felt like punch after punch in my pelvis, aftershocks just as strong as a normal orgasm.
And that’s why I said “AN end. ” Because just like I said, I liked to keep cumming as much as I could after that.
When I was sure I could stand, I could still hear them whispering to each other, and I took the towel from the ground and draped it over the corner of the bathroom sink. I climbed up, straddling the corner and the towel, letting my legs and feet plank behind me off the ground so that all the weight was on my pussy, providing a deep pleasure as if I was being penetrated since the nerves of my clitoris were carrying that pleasure throughout the internal structure, already engorged and sensitive from edging so long. I’ve heard men can feel something similar by humping this way with the penis facing down and putting pressure on the base of the shaft while rocking/squeezing.
I can cum as much as I want humping like that with my legs in the air. The towel was wet and warm, and my mom’s words were failing her. It was more of her trying to say something but being blocked by her own pleasure, a syllable turning to a moan, quickening in pace. She’d begun whining more saying “I can’t be—I can’t believe this—I can’t believe it” I assume just about how good she was feeling, especially since this had gone on for about three hours.
I scissored my legs open and closed feeling that delicious sparkling pressure build very slowly as I was more in control this way. When I open my legs I could hear my own wetness which of course drove me crazy. When my dad’s groans joined in with my mom’s increasingly higher pitched whimpering babble, I came again, HARD, because humping orgasms always are so intense for some reason. I shifted a bit to let my body recover, focusing on listening more intently. It did not take long for me to want to climb back up on my counter when she started saying “my pussy, my pussy” over and over again. I feel like my dad was enjoying getting these reactions out of her or anyone else would have finished by then. I could hear him get worked up and then take deep breaths clearly trying to last longer.
This time I kept my legs mostly closed, just letting the pressure and mental stimulation do all the work of getting me off. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I could see myself in the mirror, soft pussy mound swallowing my little corner hungrily. I rocked a little bit, seeing my ass and legs clenched in pleasure hovering off the ground. I came soon after, mom and dad now exchanging desperate moans and groans.
I became less controlled after that, each of the probably six or seven more times I came including me pumping my legs open and closed, sometimes with more of an up and down motion as I used my hands gripped on either side of the counter to help me grind more thoroughly. If I want it to last longer, I’ll stay balanced straddling the corner with my feet off the ground still, but with my legs spread wide to let the sensation slowly build in hot, sweeping waves through my whole body as the pleasure between my legs mixes with the nearly incapacitating excitement created by my mom’s earnest, steady groans and occasional panting. My mom’s orgasm is a poorly muffled yell and my dad is not far behind. Sometime between the two orgasms, I bring my spread legs completely together, and that alone makes me almost cry out as my pelvic muscles and core violently, rhythmically contract.
Before they can settle, I climb off my counter still throbbing, and trickle of wetness whispers down my inner thigh.
During their post-sex giggles and bedtime rituals, I quickly and quietly go back to my room. I don’t clean myself up and I hump my hands a couple times before passing out.
After reading about people’s overheard parent stories, reading about people becoming aroused and masturbating at the same time always take me back to those memories. As much as I love hearing the hot things people happen to hear and see, what really brings me to a forum like this is the relatability and depth behind this kink.
Please allow my story to stir up memories for you and put you in touch with even a fraction of those first butterflies you ever felt hearing sex for the first time. And, please—do share!
