In Praise Of Loud Sex

I am a very noisy lady … in the sack. My sex motto is “go loud or go home.” I realize that not everyone gets off on noisy sex, but for me, it is essential to my enjoyment. Screaming, moaning, dirty talk, or all of the above builds my mental and physical excitement during sex.
Living in NYC, my opportunities to be loud are limited. There’s always a neighbor or a roommate or a cranky old landlord eager to be offended by the sound of me crying out in ecstasy while getting spanked. Having to lock eyes the morning after with the person who heard you scream, “f**k me harder you sexy beast!” last night, is uncomfortable to say the least. Also, in real life, I am polite person. I say “please” and “thank you.” I am mindful of other’s feelings. I try to cause as few disruptions as possible. Perhaps this accounts for my volcanic nature in the bedroom. Let’s just say, you wouldn’t know by looking at me what kind of ungodly noises I make while doing it.

I felt like my sex life with my boyfriend (who also likes it loud) was being stifled by trying to be quiet enough for his roommate or the angry tenants who live below me. My sex drive was puttering at the thought of another f**k session where I had to orgasm into a pillow to absorb the sound. We decided to plan a weekend away. Our objective was, simple: f**k, eat, sleep, and do it all over again.

The minute we arrived at the dingy seaside shack, we forgot about everyone else and decided to focus on screwing loudly, never mind the people staying in the surrounding shacks. Before unpacking our bags we stripped off our clothes and did it in the hot tub on the open patio, both screaming at the top of our lungs when we came. Throughout the weekend, we proceeded to do it on the kitchen floor, in the outdoor shower, hanging from the ceiling, swinging from the rafters, bellowing like animals. We used vibrators, ice cubes, edible chocolates, bondage gear. We left all the doors and windows open at all times. I made him spank me and scream out “you dirty bitch” when he came.

It was the most liberating weekend of my life, sexually speaking. Not because we did anything we’d never done before, but because we didn’t give a crap about who was listening. On our way out, a group of college students staying in the shack next door came out on their balcony. They looked at us in awe.

“Are you guys porn stars?” one of the girls asked shyly.

My boyfriend and I started laughing.

“No. Why?”

“Your sex sounded like the best ever,” she said. “We’ve been wondering who you were all weekend.”

I blushed at the thought of them listening, but with pride this time. My boyfriend’s chest puffed up. I felt a renewed sense of sexual self-esteem. We were loud and proud.

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