After Shelley's long day of classes that Wednesday—made even longer by her choice to start the day off by working out—she finally walked through the front door at around 7:30 pm.

I glanced over at her and smiled as I finished plating the piping hot roasted chicken with herb potatoes I prepared for us. The timing worked out perfectly.

"Hope you're hungry," I greeted her.

"Starving."

She started to walk to the couch and I stopped her with a holler.

"Hey!"

My love looked over as I stared at her, vexed, waiting for her to realize why I demanded her attention.

After a few seconds, she let out an "oh" of acknowledgment. She walked over to me as I put down the hot pan and gave me a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry. I've just had a long day. My brain is running on fumes."

It wasn't like either of us to be the last one to arrive home and not greet the other with a kiss straight away. In fact, it had seemingly become some sort of unspoken routine. Aside from kicking off our shoes or hanging up a coat, it was always the very first thing we did. The fact that she didn't do it here was frankly off-putting. I had to tell myself not to read into it much.

Dinner was quiet. It was so unusual for us. The evening suddenly had the awkwardness of an early date in a relationship where you've run out of topics to discuss. I decided to nudge us in the right direction.

"How was the gym?"

After a brief pause, without looking up from her plate, Shelley responded. "It was fine."

Throw me a bone here, babe!

"Was it a leg day or a torso day or...?"

"Want more wine?" she asked me, abruptly halting our conversation as she got up from the table.

"Uh..." I started, pondering my response, "I don't think so. If I have too much, I might not be able to...do much tonight...if you catch my drift."

She spun back around to look at me as I gave her a coy smirk. Her expression was much too contradictory for my liking.

"Oh, honey, maybe not tonight. I really am feeling kinda tired and I'm just not—yeah, not tonight."

The finality of her decision made me yearn for the early days of our relationship when, even if she was declining sex, she would still at least flirt back a little first. Also, just two days ago I caught her masturbating on the couch and today her libido was kaput?

"Yeah, no problem," I finally mustered. Really, though, it felt like a problem.

The evening dragged on without any excitement. It was like we were being forced to spend time with each other. It was never like that before this week. I tried to pinpoint it, and came to the conclusion that nothing else of note happened but our untimely run-in with Marcus. I couldn't figure out why that was still bugging her though. It couldn't be that she craved the spontaneity of grabbing someone and doing them on a table, that she was enticed by it—she did just decline sex after all. It couldn't still be embarrassment, because she hardly knew Marcus at all. I couldn't pinpoint it, and it bugged the ever-loving shit out of me.

I looked over at her as all these thoughts were swirling around my head. The TV was watching us. Shelley's eyes were glued to her phone; her thumbs pounded away at the keyboard. She had to be texting someone. I had no idea who, and I wasn't gonna ask. I'd wait for her to tell me, which I was sure she'd do. We're the kind of couple who are very open about everything with each other. That also happened to be the reason why we're the kind of couple who doesn't snoop through each other's phones—there's no need with the policy we had on sharing.

About ten minutes after I had noticed her texting, she got up and announced that she was going to meet her friend Evelyn for a coffee.

"Oh? I thought you were tired," I prodded.

"I am, it's just...Evelyn is...her mom is sick and...baby, I just want to be there for her right now.

"She needs a friend," she ended with conviction after seeming frazzled when beginning to explain her unexpected leave.

"Okay," I conceded. Truth is: I was more than okay with it. This night felt like a wash already. I could use some alone time, especially when the connection between us seemed frayed.

After going to change, she came back out ready to leave in a low-cut shirt that showed a moderate amount of cleavage. It wasn't necessarily unusual for her to wear something like that—she had many tops of that nature—it just seemed unorthodox for her to wear one while grabbing a quick coffee with a friend on a weeknight.

She sent a quick "bye" my way, grabbed her coat, and zoomed out the door. After sitting there for a minute in silence, it struck me that she didn't kiss me goodbye, just as it did with our failed hello. I chalked it up to the awkwardness of the evening; the week.

Now, maybe this is shameless, maybe it's not, but the mere sight of the bare skin of the top curves of my girlfriend's breasts was enough to send me into a frenzy. Sometimes, I still feel like a teenager, just without the posters of busty women on the walls of my room. I pulled my dick out and began jacking off.

I know I watch too much porn; I really do. So I tried desperately to just use my imagination on this occasion. It was getting me damn close but not quite near the finish line. I reached for my phone and went to open my spank bank, when I had a weird thought come over me. I never used to think this before, but I found myself wishing that Marcus had a woman upstairs with him right now for me to eavesdrop on.

Being so turned on by another guy's sex life that I yearned for the next time I could masturbate to his next romp was slightly emasculating. It was emasculating because I realized that I couldn't remember the last time that having sex got me as horny as this thought.

Just before I clicked on a video, I heard movement from the unit above me. Like an answer from the heavens—also above me—I believed Marcus was greeting somebody at his door. Yeah, I suppose it could just be a buddy of his coming over to hang, but since it's Marcus we're talking about, I presumed the odds were much higher that it was a fuck buddy.

Please. Please.

...what the fuck?

What's wrong with me?

This is so pathetic. You're pathetic.

I put my dick away after having a sudden loss of arousal. It was like a wave of sobriety crashed over me at once. I was begging—God?—for my upstairs neighbour to start fucking someone.

And then, with my dick now tucked away nicely, he did just that. Hard.

As if the same sobering wave ebbed in the opposite direction, my shaft began stiffening back to attention.

I looked over to the front door and saw my Nikes sitting on our shoe mat. It's like a sign. A contrived, half-baked suggestion put forth by my mind.

Just do it.

I did it. I pulled out my fully-chubbed cock and began wacking away at myself like a guileless machine submitting to its creator.

Marcus was surely fucking this loose bitch right by his doorway. I couldn't tell if it was against the door or if they were going at it on the floor. The bottom line was that Marcus' sexual prowess took a boost regardless. I've never had Shelley so horny that the second she walked through the door, she mounted me right then and there.

Fuck, that would be so hot.

For now, my options were limited to just one—vicarious excitement.

After a few additional pumps, the woman upstairs was definitely having a life-changing orgasm. I spurted jizz all over my stomach and took a few seconds to catch my breath with my eyes closed. It was so hot listening to her. I wondered what his woman tonight looked like.

I tried to console myself during the haze of post-nut clarity by highlighting the positives of not watching porn and its outlandish plots to get off tonight; instead, using real-world experience...though not my own.

The fragility of my situation with Shelley had me praying she wouldn't get home before Marcus' girl left (or before they fell asleep from exhaustion.) I had doubts, however, considering that she was probably trying to rush through her coffee date to come home and call it a night.

An hour passed with very limited breaks from the couple upstairs. Enough time had elapsed for my libido to once again call from the darkness and invite me to another session of self-pleasure. In all honesty, the things I was hearing were just too fucking hot. They were going at it like animals in the wild.

No longer wanting to avoid the racket, I moved into my bedroom to get a sharper sound from their coitus, which had evidently moved into Marcus' bedroom about twenty minutes prior.

I lay down and shot another, thinner load out of my penis within two minutes.

After the come-down, the sweet sounds of pleasure reverted back to mockery. I had a sudden, cartoonish realization that if they kept going at it this vigorously, I could die laying right where I was—Marcus' bed might come crashing through my ceiling and crush the life out of my cum-covered body.

What an embarrassing fucking way to get discovered.

The time passed...and passed...and Shelley still wasn't home. Marcus was on round six or seven with his personal ho.

I shot Shelley two texts, half an hour apart, but got no reply.

I tried to roll over and fall asleep, but I couldn't seem to keep the sounds of fucking from penetrating my eardrums.

Somehow, I guess I eventually dozed off. I woke up to Shelley climbing into bed with me, smelling freshly showered. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was past a quarter to 2:00.

"Are you just getting back now?" I asked her in shock.

"No, I just couldn't sleep up until now. Too much stuff swirling around my head from my chat with Evelyn."

"How is she?" I asked half-heartedly.

"She's doing fine. Just go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

With the assurance that everything was alright, I drifted back to sleep thinking how lucky I was to have this gorgeous woman laying next to me.

The next day, I got up before Shelley and got ready for work. I kissed her on the forehead before leaving, as she was still asleep. I could only imagine what going out and staying out after a long day yesterday did to her. It warmed my heart however to think of her being such a good friend.

I called the elevator and waited in the silent corridor for over a minute. I could hear the faint dings and the doors opening on another floor before reaching mine.

Finally, it reached my floor and opened up for me. Already inside stood Marcus.

Fuck.

This was so awkward.

"H-hey!" he said, adding a signature inflection, turning it into a two syllable word. "What's up, Danny?"

I hated when he called me that.

I wearily stepped inside and peered up at him, making much-dreaded eye contact.

"Not much, man. How are you?"

"Little battered after the last few days, not gonna lie," he told me with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I could imagine."

"Aw damn," he responded with a smug grin on his face, "does word travel that fast?"

"No," I said, looking away from him, "but sound does."

"Oh shit!" he said with a scoff. "Did it at least sound good?"

The doors opened up to our lobby, and I quickly bolted out.

"Sorry, Marcus. Gotta run, man."

"See ya later!" he hollered at me, now from afar.

Wish I could see you never.

I don't know if I really meant that. He genuinely was a cool guy. His arrogance was just starting to rub me the wrong way. Although, I was starting to feel like maybe I was just jealous of all his action.

All day at work, I couldn't get the situation out of my head. And for some reason, my mind kept taking me back to Tuesday afternoon. Specifically, to the size of Marcus' dick. It was this primal type of envy, and it was eating away at me. I know it was meaningless and irrelevant, but I found myself wishing I knew what it was like to be like him. It had me in a weird state of horniness all day long.

When I got home, I figured I could rein in all this excess energy with a night of hot sex. Shelley, however, was less than receptive, saying that she was still tired from her night out yesterday. I resorted to a less-than-fulfilling masturbation session. It was less about pleasure and more about extinguishing this built-up...whatever you'd call it inside of me. Rage? No. Disgust? No. I don't know; frustration, I guess.

Friday was mundane, too. Shelley seemed to have finally recouped her energy today. Her interest in keeping her body in good shape was inspiring; she hit the gym again as I headed out to work.

After we parted ways in our building's front lobby, I had made it almost all the way to my car in our parking garage before I realized that I left my phone at home.

As I came back into the foyer area where our elevators were located, I saw the tail end of a dark ponytail trotting into one of the elevators.

"Hold it, please," I called out. I was already late and needed to hurry. Thankfully, the occupant was holding the door for me.

As I turned the corner and stepped into the elevator, I was surprised to see Shelley standing inside.

Just seeing her at any given moment made my face light up, even when I had last laid eyes on her mere minutes ago.

She, however, looked spooked.

"Hey, baby," I said to her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"What are you doing coming back?" she inquired. For some reason, the uneasiness on her face still hadn't left.

"I forgot my phone."

"So did I," she quickly retorted.

"Look at that. We really are made for each other."

She just nodded meekly and turned her gaze to the wall. I was getting the strangest vibe right now.

I looked up to see the floors changing as our ride ascended. To my surprise, the elevator numbers ticked right past our floor, the 11th, and landed on the 12th. As the doors opened, I looked over at Shelley. Neither of us moved.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "I must've hit twelve by accident." She extended her arm and selected the correct floor. "It's right next to the button for our floor," she continued on.

"Yeah, I may have done that a few times myself," I falsely acknowledged. I've never done that in my life.

We remained in place and waited for the elevator doors to close back up and take us to our floor.

I retrieved my phone from our bedroom, and Shelley told me she found hers on the side table next to our couch. From there, we parted once again and each journeyed ahead with our respective days.

Saturday was a day we relished. Who doesn't? I was ready to put this embarrassing week—one to forget—behind me. Even Friday night was a bust. Shelley still didn't want sex, saying again that she was tired.

I tried not to let it bother me, but it did anyways. After all, Friday was her lightest day of classes, and if the gym was going to make her too tired to be intimate with me, then maybe she should have the foresight to not push herself so hard; especially when it cuts into our evening as I'm already at home, waiting for her to return. It was another lonely night of wanking to Marcus' sex show—the audio-only version.

Fuck it.

I wasn't gonna let any of it ruin my weekend. Shelley seemed much more receptive to spending quality time with me today, so I decided to take advantage of that and take her out for breakfast.

We stepped out the front door and waited for the elevator. Just my luck; it was already occupied when it opened.

Marcus' flashy smile shone right towards my girlfriend.

"Hey, you two! Long time no see, Shelley!" The bastard winked at her. Shelley seemed to melt at that. I just had to accept that this man was a charmer.

Yeah, but, "short time, much hear" for me.

The absolute worst thing that could happen would be for Tuesday to be addressed. There was something about the idea of Marcus talking to my girlfriend about sex that really put a pit in my stomach. That's the jealousy again. As much as I have faith in Shelley not to cheat on me, what actually reassured me most was the fact that Marcus would refrain from something like that. He was genuinely a great guy; very much a prescriber of the "bros before hos" tagline. Flirtatiousness was simply a trait of his, like being tall or being black.

"Goddamn, you look good today," Marcus directed at Shelley.

She didn't respond vocally; just a slight giggle and a shy look towards the floor.

"Alright, alright," I started, putting my arm around Shelley's waist, "she's taken, Marcus. Cool your charm."

"Oh, bro. I would never dream of ruining what y'all have," he replied.

"Where are you headed?" Shelley asked, pointing at a duffel bag hanging off of Marcus' shoulder.

"Gonna go spend the weekend at my mom's. She's been nagging at me, saying it's been too long since she's seen me. I just know she'll be asking if I've got a steady girl. Ain't got the heart to tell her that ain't me. I keep things casual."

"Yeah," Shelley uttered, "we could tell from Tuesday."

What the fuck? She's bringing it up???

As soon as she said that, the doors opened up on the ground floor and we all got out. As our path diverged from Marcus', he finally responded after a few seconds of looking like a cocky fuck.

"Yeah, just like Tuesday. You jealous, mami?"

As he asked that very inappropriate question, his voice had picked up as we were walking further and further away from him, each to our own cars.

The two of them were still looking at each other as they engaged in whatever this banter was. Shelley had her head turned to the side, still in stride, as Marcus was fully walking backwards with a huge smile on his face directed right at her. I felt like I wasn't there.

"You wish," she finally said to him.

He gave a salute to us and finally turned around as we saw him approach his car, a ways away in our underground parking structure.

Shelley's glare towards him lingered as we got to my car.

"Baby," I said, finally breaking it.

She turned around and got in, seeming genuinely off-put.

"Don't let him get to you."

"It's not that," she quickly said.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. It's fine, let's go."

Our weekend was peaceful without having to be subjected to the sounds of one of Marcus' sex sessions from upstairs.

After a week of finding excuses, just as I was starting to genuinely feel concerned, Shelley finally relented and we had sex on Sunday night.

It wasn't the most passionate sex we've ever had, but it certainly sufficed. After about 20 minutes of some hot foreplay, Shelley had an orgasm on my tongue. She often still wouldn't get very wet during this, so we cracked out the lube to aid us in what came next.

We made love in our bed, and I totally got lost in the moment. Just being with someone as beautiful as her, tasting her, smelling her, caressing her...it was quickly too much. At this point, penetration was pretty much for my benefit as she wasn't able to cum via this method.

I took my lips off her neck where they had been as I thrust into her for the last minute and looked into her eyes.

"Baby, can I?" I asked permission.

As soon as she nodded, there was no turning back.

My lips crashed into hers as I shot every ounce of cum I could into the condom.

As soon as I came down from my high, I slid my fastly-softening cock out of her cunt, pried my lips off of hers, and rolled over onto the bed, catching my breath.

I looked over at her and saw her staring up at the ceiling.

"You good?" I asked.

"Yeah. So good, baby," she stated matter-of-factly.

I must've closed my eyes at some point because I woke up temporarily to find Shelley with her hand under the covers, working her pussy violently. She was muffling her moans, but I still heard her breathing become erratic. I watched on without making any sound. It was the hottest display a man could ask for. I didn't read into it at all in terms of my prowess. She was often a horny girl and masturbating a short time after sex wasn't uncommon. That's why this past week had seemed anomalous. She didn't seem to want much sex at all, and I couldn't recall a time to herself that she would've been masturbating.

I watched her finish herself off as her toes—poking out from the bottom of the covers—curled themselves into oblivion. If physics allowed, I'm pretty sure they would've kept curling a full 360° until they returned to their original position. I understood at this point that her orgasms were stronger by way of masturbation as compared to sex. Women know how to make their bodies sing, and I had no hard time accepting that.

Despite my cock hardening at the sight of my girlfriend having a mind-blowing orgasm, my slumber quickly fell back over me. I think I had a dream that we were fucking in Marcus' apartment, on the same table he was fucking that bitch on. I don't know why I dreamt that. Then again, who knows why we dream anything? Maybe it was some intrinsic need to exert dominance over a dude who clearly enjoys the sight of my girlfriend the same way I do. I couldn't tell if he was there or not in my dream, but what better way to show dominance then to fuck a girl in the personal space of a guy who rivals you for her affection?

I woke up feeling like such a boss.

It was a quiet night from Marcus upstairs on Monday evening, although there was rattling enough for it to be confirmed that he had returned home from his mother's house on the weekend. Like clockwork next Tuesday, though, he welcomed another conquest of his.

Truth be told, I found a way to leave work early just so I could come back here, suspecting that Marcus would be fucking that same chick again. Despite every other occurrence from the previous week, that first time was the absolute hottest to listen to. Maybe it was the novelty of the situation. And since Shelley and I were together when it happened, I couldn't masturbate to it.

Was it a little pathetic that I rushed home early from work on the chance that I would be able to masturbate to the sounds of a hot sex session from my arrogant upstairs neighbour? Maybe. But I honestly couldn't care less. And as soon as Shelley informed me that she would be at the library all afternoon working on an assignment once her morning classes finished, followed by a trip to the gym, I knew I had to cash in on the probable opportunity that Marcus would be making time for that same ho from a week ago today.

It was hard to tell through muffled scream and an entire floor between us, but it actually didn't sound like the same girl he was fucking on the table in front of our eyes. It did however sound like someone else he was fucking last week. Truth be told, there was no real way to know aside from being one of the two participants themselves. It was possible that Marcus was fucking a bunch of chicks with the same schedule as Shelley. Maybe he was even fucking girls from the same classes that she takes. This one obviously had Tuesday afternoon off to do with what she pleased, just like my girlfriend. She sure was getting pleased as we speak. Perhaps more appropriately—she was getting pleasured. By a "big black cock" at that.

Ugh. I wanted to roll my eyes. Again?

If it wasn't the same girl as the one who was shouting those things last week, then he sure had a type. Why did these girls have to bring race into it every time, as if Marcus being black made him a better lover? As if him having a big dick made him a better lover. And everybody knows that black guys having bigger cocks is just an untrue stereotype. Sure, Marcus had one, but that was just by chance. And it didn't matter for pleasure anyways. He obviously just has a great technique that would still be successful even if he had a smaller penis—one my size. And I just mean smaller compared to his. Mine is almost average after all.

As I pulled my focus away from this internal dilemma, I realized the girl upstairs had started announcing her orgasms. As if the whole building needed to know. It made me roll my eyes.

I counted up to her sixth one and realized they had only been going at it for less than ten minutes thus far. There's no way that was all Marcus. Clearly, this slut was multi-orgasmic in bed with anyone.

Jesus. A seventh orgasm.

Even though it was the whole reason I rushed back, I started feeling pathetic once again being this invested in Marcus' sex life. I tried so hard to not pay attention to the noises, but it was becoming inevitable. My dick had been slowly getting hard until the point it had become like a steel bar. I sighed and pulled it out of my sweats.

I began imagining the moans were Shelley. Don't misunderstand me: I wasn't imagining she was getting fucked by Marcus, per se. It was more so that I was focusing on these beautiful moans of pleasure belonging to Shelley, detached from Marcus. If she was a screamer like this girl, it would be even hotter to fuck her than it already was. Obviously, those moans weren't property of Shelley; it's just a bit of harmless fantasy. I took solace in the fact that she was loyal to a fault. And like I've said, it's true that Marcus really is a great guy.

The insatiable bitch from upstairs screamed out that she was cumming once again. This had followed one about thirty seconds prior. She was having #9. That really floored me. Nine fucking orgasms. And she clearly wasn't on the come down yet.

I started jacking off harder. It was feeling alright, but it was really just the five seconds in which I cum that I wanted to skip to. I love being a dude, but I still couldn't help being jealous of this desperate slut upstairs. I was feeling a mere modicum of what she must be.

Oh fuck. Here it comes. I can feel the cum start exiting my balls. Oh shit, that feels nice. Christ, she's cumming again. We're cumming together. We're cumming at the same fucking time. Yes!

Ah damn.

It's over...for me. She's still orgasming. Holy fuck. I guess this one wasn't necessarily any longer than her others, it was the direct comparison I was making to mine that had me in awe.

"I'm fucking cumming on this big black cock! Oh God, Marcus! Yes!"

Fuck, I was so envious. Twenty seconds later and she's still saying she's cumming.

When I stood up to go get some tissues to clean up my mess, it was then that I really wished Shelley hadn't gone to the gym. The tightness of her pussy would've felt a hell of a lot better than a few pumps from my hand. And I would've lasted longer too. To be totally honest, this was just barely worth having to clean myself up.

Finally, her climax upstairs had finished. Though it surely wouldn't be long till the next one arrived.

"Cum inside me! Oh, fuck! Cum inside me!"

Lucky fucker.