Ah yes, the noisy bonker. I've lived with one of those. I count my blessings that loud, noisy dogs live next door to me on one side, and music playing hippies live on the other side.

The tragedy is that our house is so old and decrepid that any movement in the house ... well, it kinda moves the whole house, if you catch my drift.

Ahem.

I still remember Friday nights in summer in our apartment complex in Woden. Someone would start, and the still air would echo it all around the complex. Then someone would say 'common, luv, I reckon we could do better'. two minutes later another couple would add to the chorus and before long everyone in the entire place would be having sex with someone.

It's going to be horrendous today. And it's not even mid summer. I think I'm going to die this season.

When the windows are open, I root quietly.

root quietly. what an elegant turn of phrase!

Heheh.

I'd rather have the loud bonkers than the crows, frankly...

What's the point of rooting quitely? A rampant mouth is a good one and makes the whole experience much more pleasurable.

And if you don't like your partner's screams of ecstasy, then there's always tontine therapy. Thats only if your talented enough to coordinate your lower half with your upper half while attempting to control that warm fuzzy feeling.

Stuff the neighbours, it's my bonk and I'm going to enjoy it.

I am forever eloquent.

What's a tricep dip? Where are my triceps, for that matter? LOL.

I agree with Scott.

I don't make a heap of noise, but I've been experimenting with talking dirty during 'the act' for some time now.

But for some reason, I always have an American accent.

Go girl downstairs!

I agree with Scott too.

Besides, the looser your tongue, the looser your whole body-the betta the bonking.

Your triceps are opposite your biceps, on the upper inside arm. There, my massage school education is coming in handy...

well, i can be reasonably quiet i guess.. i kindof like it when my partner is loud, especially if she doesnt mean/want to be. it feels beter if you shout anyway.. prolongs the orgasm, flushes the body, etc... cmon you guys, read up on your tantra!

I go away for a few days, and when I come back (easy pun sidestepped), Shauny's site has become Porn Central. What gives?

hehe! i love monkey's orchestra! we haven't lived near noisy bonkers in years, but currently we've got a guy who lives alone and never has visitors. BUT we can always hear his suspiciously stiletto-like heels tottering around on our ceiling after dark. that's what we gossip about.

Sigh. I'd give my left arm for some good noisy bonking (my own, not someone else's).

I had to convince my mother not to take a leather jacket to Australia this week.

I lived with one once, but she was upstairs. She also used to play ENYA, at full volume. I thought the bonking was more tasteful,actually.

I'm with Alice. My hormones are going crazy.

I want a mango.

I want the mango that's attached to a keen and eager naked man.

The walls are made out of enforced cardboard here where I live, but my neighbors just occasionally bang the drum (is this the right expression?), the boy next door is a drummer wanna be. My other neighbor occasionally plays some Bach. No wild erotic noises. The naked city somehow manages to be louder than the people in this particular building. But what we can not hear, we can sometimes see. (Really not on purpose.) Some New Yorkers just think that if they can not see the city, the city can not see them, even though they do not have curtains, or just slightly frosted glass in their bathrooms. What is there to do? How can I tell this guy across the street to take his obviously exciting magazines somewhere else, at least a bit farther away from the bathroom window facing Broadway? He seems to be the father of two and a good husband to a beautiful wife, but oh boy... those magazines.
At least he is not as crazy as the college students who shared a three bedroom apartment (expensive rent) across the backyard from me when I lived on 73rd Street. Somebody told the boys that television-light makes them invisible. Not only that, they were also able to convince their girlfriends that television light makes invisible. (It does not. It is fairly bright, just blue.)
Once again: I did not look on purpose. I do not own one of the obligatory New York telescopes. (They sell like bagels here.)
Something is telling me that the idea of our obsessive privacy is relatively new. Generations before us used to see and hear people being born, see and hear people die. So maybe it is not the worst thing in the world to see or hear people hmm... enjoy themselves.
Oh wait... I have the feeling that this was not even the main point of Shauna’s post. It was more about the summer. Oh, we are now entering the opposite of Summer here. New York winters are nasty. Can I come over down under for a little while? It sounds like a beautiful place from your descriptions.
Another excellent post Shauny! What a fantastic blog with a whole crowd commenting on it. Thank you so much for it.

*looks into mango attachment surgery*

> I'd give my left arm for some good noisy bonking

And I know a place where that could be arranged.

Mango? Did someone say mango?

Oh no, not the mango again.

keee-rist, couldn't we all do with a good noisy bonk? i mean, it's too hot to do anything but drink beer and root lazily.

shauny, i'm looking in your direction....

No, wait, seriously, these beautiful hot summery nights, doonaless beds, that mist of sweat, add two or three heaped table spoons of loudness, and you GOT SOME HOT LOVING BABAY!

Rachel is totally right.

The summer I broke my foot I lived in the basement of a house five people were sharing.

There is nothing more anoying or discusting then people whom you find anoying and discusting, doing it all hours of the night directly above your head. All that hair and I had to share a bathroom with them! Yuck!

But I suppose if you didn't know them it might be kind of fun. Or at the very least not make you want to thow-up in your sock drawer.

Speaking as a loud bonker myself personally, well, I can't say I'd rather hear other loud bonkers, because geez, let's face it, some people just shouldn't be bonking in the first place, now should they...

Yep.

It's mango time again.

Yep.

I said, mango time again.

Ahem.

You're the girl downstairs, ain'tcha? WINK!

Well, it could be worse, you could be in the top bunk in a hostel when two people decide to do the nasty in the bottom early in the morning. Curiously enough, she didn't make ANY noise, there was just the sound of springs, and LOTS of rocking.

See. I'm very familiar with the conundrum that Shauny writes about here. For I spent my teenage years growing up in Sacramento, a suburban Sahara that single-handedly puts the "sunny" in sunny California and adroitly balances the colder spectrum of the snowy Sierras. Sacramento, where stifling weather will boil an egg atop a high-ranking member of the Hair Club for Men (while not the President, this Board member does operate out of a Citrus Heights minimall). Sacramento, where the summer sun is so hot that it will incinerate a crawdad escaping the American River in two minutes flat.

But, most pertinently, Sacramento, the town where one cannot have sex in the summer without finding one sticking to the flesh of another.

If truth be told, there was a moment around 1992 when I was that screaming girl for precisely those reasons. I was not faking it. Nor did I emit sounds as verisimilitudinous as the ones chronicled above.

There was a drought. Nowhere nearly as severe as the one that currently plagues Australia. But my then girlfriend and I had decided, based upon youthful whims of stupidity, to...ahem...get it on in 106 degree weather within a house that lacked air conditioning.

The results were initially quite pleasant for both parties. Until the sweat began to pour.

And that's when we both noticed a friction problem. Through repeated movement, tremendous heat and who knows how many BTUs, the two of us found ourselves sticking to each other in mid-coitus. And we stayed that way for some time.

That's when I let out a big girly scream, which seemed the right thing for a hot and horny teenager to do.

I remained like this for some time until my flesh was free again. But for the next few times we felt randy that summer, we took advantage of a walk-in freezer.

And what's all this about mangos?

speaking as a newlywed, i can categorically say the following : a worse sound than hearing other people root is the sound of a 30kg wiemeraner trying to get into your bedroom while you're enjoying connubial bliss with your wife. While we were away on our honeymoon, a friend stayed at our house to feed our dogs - i can still remember the look of incredulous horror on his face when i said "oh yeah, you have to lock yourself into the bedroom because the dogs can open doors"

I've no problems with hearing other people bonk.
What I don't get is the assumption that a woman would be faking it. What I really don't get is why someone would fake it at all. How is the person you're with supposed to learn how to make me happy if they don't get genuine feedback?

I used to have a noisy flatmate. And I'm pretty sure she wasn't faking, because it depended on who she was with.

When she was with boy 1, who took about 30 seconds, she was silent as a log. But when she was with boy 2, who seemed to take about 1 hour, she got very noisy indeed. Boys 3-10 were distributed along a scale between these two extremes.

She made sure she kept boy 2.

Why isn't Jeff Ward chiming in here? Are his Victorian values holding him back? Come on Jeff. Break free of those prudish chains. Liberate yourself. Comment on this one. Let your sexuality free!

Post good!

I fear that Diz and I may have made for downstairsgirl moments for her roomies during our time together. I managed not to care about it too much though.

SJ: If only I *was* that girl downstairs, I prolly wouldn't be this grumpy!

Gimme that mango.

What the Heck is the meanings behind the Mangoes?!?!?!? I mean, yeah, the fruit's tasty and all but there's something behind the scenes here...[suspicious look]

It wouldn't be a two mangoes and a banana thing would it?

noooo. they're just the sweetest smoothest juiciest messiest sexiest most luscious fruit in the world and they're in season in Australia RIGHT NOW!

i never realised what a high percentage of WNP commenters are sexually frustrated. this has all been very enlightening.

Did you know there's a Mango Magnum?

And I'll take boy #2, thanks.

I'm a peach man myself.

*nudge, nudge, wink, wink*

mango magnum = so good i felt like i should have been using protection.

oh yes, but 18 grams of fat! yikes! :P

I'd be sexually frustrated, too, if I didn't wank so much.

and damn fuckbuddies who won't let you make any noise whatsoever. serves them right if i rip their pillowcases with my teeth trying to muffle the noise.
and
18 grams of fat = bah! sooo much pleasure. just bonk for an extra hour for every mango magnum consumed!
problem solved in the most delicious way!

That's it, I'm going to have to go home now and surprise my girlfriend.