The first time I heard it was a cool summer night, when the only other sound was the gentle rasping of crickets that came floating through my open window. At first it was only the creaking of bed springs, soft and inconsistent. Soon it grew louder, yet still intermittent. I checked the clock: 12:23. I was about to chalk it up to restless sleeping, when the first moan crept through the wall that connected my room to my sister’s. It was little more than shaky puff of breath, barely louder than the breeze in the trees outside, yet it was loud as a gunshot to me. I froze, unsure of what I had just heard. A few squeaks from the bed later, it happened again.
Now, if you have never heard the object of your constant desire moan sensually while masturbating, let me describe it to you. Simply put, it is the sexiest noise I have ever heard. I felt a tingle through my body, a physical shock at what I was hearing. Barely more than a pleasurably exhale, each breath wove its way into my mind, painting a picture of the erotic scene unfolding in my sister’s bed. Perhaps she was lying on her back, legs wide apart, her back arched in ecstasy as she probed frantically into herself. Or maybe she was propped up on her elbows, rubbing her clit into one of her many stuffed animals. The penguin, perhaps. Or the lion.