Whence Comes the Storm

In 1978 I lived on East 10th Street with my girlfriend, a hillbilly from West Virginia. The bedroom of our 3rd floor apartment was situated on the airshaft. An actor friend lived on the 5th floor. Every night the building shivered with the screams of a woman in orgasm. This cascade of cries of ‘oh god yes’ continued for a week.

It could only be the actor and his svelte girlfriend.

My girlfriend went frigid under the aural assault and I couldn’t maintain an erection. Finally I confronted my friend, “Could you tell your girlfriend to keep it down?”

“My girlfriend? I thought it was you.”

We were both wrong.

The source of the sexual maelstrom was the 4th floor apartment occupied by two lesbians.

They were twice the men we were at half the weight.

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