Listening to parents having sex
Posted: 16 Aug 2026 23:12
I found this forum after stumbling upon SexSoundLovers. Many users are sharing their stories about hearing their parents engage in sexual activity. I had a similar experience. For decades, I was embarrassed about it and was hesitant to share it with others. I did not share this with my ex-wife either. I was thinking about sharing my story and taking it off my chest.
I grew up in India. At age ten, I saw my parents having sex one night by accident. My parents were teachers, and we used to live in cramped government provided housing. I and my mom used to sleep in one room. She had her own bed, and I used to sleep in a smaller bed, and our beds were three to four feet apart. Dad used to sleep in the makeshift living room. My younger brother used to sleep with my mom sometime, and sometime with dad. One night, I got up and saw them having sex. The experience bewildered and traumatized me. I didn’t have sexual feeling in that age. I didn’t enjoy watching them at all. Their activities looked strange in my innocent eyes. But I watched from start to end with utmost curiosity, regardless. I saw them having sex a few more times after that night. I am not going into too much detail about these experiences here. The reason I am mentioning here because they are relevant in my listening story.
A few years afterward, my parents purchased a plot of land and had constructed our family home. This residence was more spacious. In our new home, my parents had their own bedroom. My brother and I had slept in another bedroom. These two bedrooms were separated by a large living room between them. A door connected the living room and my parents’ bedroom. I am going to refer to this door as The Door throughout my story. A similar door connected the living room and our bedroom. These are double doors that open in the middle - a very common type of door in Indian homes. The place I grew up was boiling and humid throughout most of the year. These interior doors remained open almost all the time, even during sleeping time. Keeping these doors open provided better air circulation, especially on hot summer nights. Curtains of thick fabric draped these doors, creating a sense of privacy.
I was censored year old and no longer innocent. In one night, I noticed Dad closing The Door and securing the slide latch before going to bed. I found it unusual. This door expanded over time because of moisture. It made a loud sound while closing. Lying on my bed, I got curious why he was closing the door. I kept my ears attuned to any sound. But nothing - complete silence. It seemed they fell in sleep. Minutes passed by. I was about fall in sleep after an hour. Then I heard a noise - someone was going to the bathroom. The bathroom was not ensuite; a separate door provided entry from their bedroom. I heard their voices as well. Both of them were awake. I knew they were going to have sex now. My sleep was gone, and I was awake. My ears were alert. After a few minutes, I heard some faint sounds - kissing, or Dad sucking Mom’s breasts. But I was still not sure. I peeked my head out from the bed and tried to see The Door across the living room. The light was coming through the gap at the bottom of The Door. A very faint sound kept coming occasionally. Eventually, I heard the sounds of bed creaks - faint but unmistakable. That removed any doubt in mind. Sitting on my bed, I kept listening to the faint sounds of their sex. Eventually, bed creaks became intense. Then I heard Dad’s groan. Then they become silent. A few minutes later, I heard someone go to the bathroom again.
From that night onwards, I started getting all the cues of them having sex - cues I didn’t bother to register in my mind in the past. Telltale signs appeared, obvious once you recognized them. Dad used to stay up late. He was watching TV or doing schoolwork, like grading and lesson planning. Mom read magazines in the bedroom or kept herself busy with knittings. Then he retired early on some nights. The very purpose of going to bed early was to have sex. Early means before eleven o’clock. Sometime he insisted I should go to bed because I had a session with a private tutor next morning. But over time I realized why he was insisting me to go to bed. My younger brother used to go to bed pretty early - before nine or ten o’clock. I was the only obstacle to their sex. They switched off all the lights and created a bedtime atmosphere in the home so that I would fall asleep. They switched off their bedroom light and pretended to fall asleep too.
Then they got up after an hour, usually after midnight. Closing The Door (with a loud noise, of course) and securing the latch were a sure sign that their sexual activity was to be started soon. They either closed it before going to bed, or right before having sex. That loud noise of closing The Door was more of announcement of having sex than seeking privacy for intimacy. Getting up and going to the bathroom to empty their bladders was the second telltale sign. Keeping the bedroom light on was another sign. As long as the light was on, I knew they were having sex.
They made use of rainy nights, especially when the rain poured (my first childhood experience took place on a rainy night as well). During the monsoon season, it sometimes rained nonstop for weeks. The sound of raindrops on our roof provided very cover for their sex noise. During sex, they felt more comfortable talking in not-so-hushed voices. They didn’t pretend to go to sleep and wait until midnight on such nights. They started fucking soon after going to bed, assuming I wouldn’t be able to hear their noise even if I was awake.
I tried to listen to their sex from our bedroom in couple of nights. But the sounds were very faint and unsatisfactory. Listening to the sound of sex was irresistible. After deliberating for months, I took the courage to take the risk - listening to them from the living room. I used to read a lot of crime and detective stories. From one story, I got the idea of wearing soft socks to walk without a sound. I wore three pairs of socks and practiced stealth-walking on the concrete floor of the living room.
I listened to them from the standing in the middle of the living room on the first night. In second night, I realized that once they were busy with themselves, they would not pay attention to anything else. The risk was quite low, and I walked near The Door. This wooden door was not soundproof at all. The door left an inch-high gap at the bottom. I could hear their breathing and the soft rustling sounds of their movements. Their bed was next to the wall between the bedroom and the living room. The headboard was very next to The Door. Basically, I was standing less than four feet away from the positions of their heads.
Listening to their forbidden sounds was the ultimate excitement. I was taking an enormous risk. But such risk also added more excitement to my adventure. Listening to was a surreal experience in my teen years. I continued listening to them about a year on and off, before it lost its novelty and I lost the excitement.
Their sexual activities followed a very routine and predictable pattern. No variation, no sexual exploration. Just following the routine. When I heard their sex sounds, it took me to my memories of government housing when I saw them having sex on multiple occasions. The pattern has remained unchanged throughout the last six years. Dad lay on top of Mom and relished her well-endowed breasts - sucking, licking, manhandling. All along, with affection, Mom combed her fingers through his hair (I was very jealous of Dad while watching it). Then Dad slid up on her and fucked her in the classic missionary position. They took a break after the climax. After an interval, he fucked her again. This time he started in a sitting position. He placed a pillow underneath her buttocks to raise her hips. He sat between her legs and entered inside her in a sonkyo pose - kneeling with knees spread apart, feet together, and sitting on the heels, like a samurai. While living in Japan, I learned the name of this sitting pose and found it convenient to refer to it this way: sonkyo sex position. Eventually, he transitioned back to the missionary position before reaching his climax. My childhood memory would have faded if I hadn’t listened to their sex noises. Because I was recalling my childhood visual memories while listening to them, the memory remained vivid and clear.
Dad brought up “firm pillow” on multiple occasions, and that’s how I figured they were fucking in sonkyo position - the way I saw them five-six years ago.
Childhood visual memories enhanced my listening experience. I didn’t have to guess what they were doing. While listening to their sounds, I only had to recall my past visual experiences. Without my childhood memories, my listening experience would have remained only in audio form, missing the visual part. My childhood visual memories completed my listening experience. From bed creaks and their breathings I knew, with no doubt, whether they were fucking in missionary or in sonkyo position. I tried to think that they were trying different things, but their routine was so predictable that I ruled out other possibilities.
Their missionary involved familiar rocking movements. It started with very slow and mild creaks. Mom occasionally released low, contented “mmmm” sounds. As time passed, the volume and the pace of the bed creaks quickened. Lots of rustling on the bed. Mom’s heavy breathings were audible. Then comes Dad’s intense but suppressed groan, coinciding with a couple of loud, violent bed creaks. The last few bed creaks were so forceful that it seemed the entire bed was about to break apart. The mosquito-net frame swung back and forth and made its own creaking sounds (mosquitoes were around all year where I grew up, so every bed had a mosquito-net frame). To regain energy and delay orgasm, their journey to climax was punctuated by multiple long pauses, especially in the final stage before orgasm. These pauses were filled with the sound of kisses, contended “mmm” sounds and conversations in hushed tones.
The music of the sitting position was different. Creaks were more pronounced, each accompanied by a slapping sound, suggesting he was thrusting his cock hard inside her. Every creak-and-slap followed by Mom’s forceful exhale, or soft moan occasionally. Listening to her exhales was a huge turn-on for me. Every bed creak was followed by a pause of a few seconds. Creak, pause, creak, pause - the pattern continued for an extended duration in the initial stage of their fucking. Sometime I wondered why Dad maintained long gaps between his thrusts. Was it his way of practicing edging? In my sex life, I found quite hard to maintain such control and restraint for prolonged time. Both Dad and Mom made satisfied and contended “mmmm” sounds in this position. Eventually, Dad abandoned pausing, and the creaks got louder and intense, leading up to the climax.
Mom was never a moaner. But standing a few feet away, I could hear her heavy breathing and sighs, and they sounded very sensual. She moaned in a low voice before the climax, when Dad thrust very hard. They had one fucking session on most of the nights. They had two sessions once in a while with an interval in between (similar to what I saw them in my childhood). In those double-session nights, the first session was shorter and the second one was for a much longer duration.
They used very dirty and vulgar language while having sex. The same thing I noticed in my childhood as well. My parents were teachers, and they were respected in society. They had gentle and sober personalities in public. Hearing their dirty talk was very shocking. Especially Mom had a broad range of personalities in bed, from soft and affectionate (towards Dad) to vulgar and taunting. I could never quite reconcile her public and private personas in my young age. Yet I am glad I got to see that other side of her, rather than knowing her as a one-dimensional vanilla person. As I grew older, I loved her as a mother more after knowing the other side.
They spoke to each other in hushed whispers, and most of their conversations were unintelligible. However, once in a while I picked up some. Once Dad expressed his desire to fuck Mom without a condom. I also learned about one little secret. Although I am not sure, but I believe Dad drank Mom’s breastmilk when she was nursing either me or my brother. I found it disgusting. Overhearing such a thing was a big contributing factor to losing interest in listening to their sex. But I rationalized it as a normal sexual ritual between husband and wife. I assumed other couples did the same thing.
That was the pre-mobile era, and I had no electronic device in my young days. Therefore, I never thought about recording their sex sounds. But if I had a device, I would’ve recorded my parents.
I grew up in India. At age ten, I saw my parents having sex one night by accident. My parents were teachers, and we used to live in cramped government provided housing. I and my mom used to sleep in one room. She had her own bed, and I used to sleep in a smaller bed, and our beds were three to four feet apart. Dad used to sleep in the makeshift living room. My younger brother used to sleep with my mom sometime, and sometime with dad. One night, I got up and saw them having sex. The experience bewildered and traumatized me. I didn’t have sexual feeling in that age. I didn’t enjoy watching them at all. Their activities looked strange in my innocent eyes. But I watched from start to end with utmost curiosity, regardless. I saw them having sex a few more times after that night. I am not going into too much detail about these experiences here. The reason I am mentioning here because they are relevant in my listening story.
A few years afterward, my parents purchased a plot of land and had constructed our family home. This residence was more spacious. In our new home, my parents had their own bedroom. My brother and I had slept in another bedroom. These two bedrooms were separated by a large living room between them. A door connected the living room and my parents’ bedroom. I am going to refer to this door as The Door throughout my story. A similar door connected the living room and our bedroom. These are double doors that open in the middle - a very common type of door in Indian homes. The place I grew up was boiling and humid throughout most of the year. These interior doors remained open almost all the time, even during sleeping time. Keeping these doors open provided better air circulation, especially on hot summer nights. Curtains of thick fabric draped these doors, creating a sense of privacy.
I was censored year old and no longer innocent. In one night, I noticed Dad closing The Door and securing the slide latch before going to bed. I found it unusual. This door expanded over time because of moisture. It made a loud sound while closing. Lying on my bed, I got curious why he was closing the door. I kept my ears attuned to any sound. But nothing - complete silence. It seemed they fell in sleep. Minutes passed by. I was about fall in sleep after an hour. Then I heard a noise - someone was going to the bathroom. The bathroom was not ensuite; a separate door provided entry from their bedroom. I heard their voices as well. Both of them were awake. I knew they were going to have sex now. My sleep was gone, and I was awake. My ears were alert. After a few minutes, I heard some faint sounds - kissing, or Dad sucking Mom’s breasts. But I was still not sure. I peeked my head out from the bed and tried to see The Door across the living room. The light was coming through the gap at the bottom of The Door. A very faint sound kept coming occasionally. Eventually, I heard the sounds of bed creaks - faint but unmistakable. That removed any doubt in mind. Sitting on my bed, I kept listening to the faint sounds of their sex. Eventually, bed creaks became intense. Then I heard Dad’s groan. Then they become silent. A few minutes later, I heard someone go to the bathroom again.
From that night onwards, I started getting all the cues of them having sex - cues I didn’t bother to register in my mind in the past. Telltale signs appeared, obvious once you recognized them. Dad used to stay up late. He was watching TV or doing schoolwork, like grading and lesson planning. Mom read magazines in the bedroom or kept herself busy with knittings. Then he retired early on some nights. The very purpose of going to bed early was to have sex. Early means before eleven o’clock. Sometime he insisted I should go to bed because I had a session with a private tutor next morning. But over time I realized why he was insisting me to go to bed. My younger brother used to go to bed pretty early - before nine or ten o’clock. I was the only obstacle to their sex. They switched off all the lights and created a bedtime atmosphere in the home so that I would fall asleep. They switched off their bedroom light and pretended to fall asleep too.
Then they got up after an hour, usually after midnight. Closing The Door (with a loud noise, of course) and securing the latch were a sure sign that their sexual activity was to be started soon. They either closed it before going to bed, or right before having sex. That loud noise of closing The Door was more of announcement of having sex than seeking privacy for intimacy. Getting up and going to the bathroom to empty their bladders was the second telltale sign. Keeping the bedroom light on was another sign. As long as the light was on, I knew they were having sex.
They made use of rainy nights, especially when the rain poured (my first childhood experience took place on a rainy night as well). During the monsoon season, it sometimes rained nonstop for weeks. The sound of raindrops on our roof provided very cover for their sex noise. During sex, they felt more comfortable talking in not-so-hushed voices. They didn’t pretend to go to sleep and wait until midnight on such nights. They started fucking soon after going to bed, assuming I wouldn’t be able to hear their noise even if I was awake.
I tried to listen to their sex from our bedroom in couple of nights. But the sounds were very faint and unsatisfactory. Listening to the sound of sex was irresistible. After deliberating for months, I took the courage to take the risk - listening to them from the living room. I used to read a lot of crime and detective stories. From one story, I got the idea of wearing soft socks to walk without a sound. I wore three pairs of socks and practiced stealth-walking on the concrete floor of the living room.
I listened to them from the standing in the middle of the living room on the first night. In second night, I realized that once they were busy with themselves, they would not pay attention to anything else. The risk was quite low, and I walked near The Door. This wooden door was not soundproof at all. The door left an inch-high gap at the bottom. I could hear their breathing and the soft rustling sounds of their movements. Their bed was next to the wall between the bedroom and the living room. The headboard was very next to The Door. Basically, I was standing less than four feet away from the positions of their heads.
Listening to their forbidden sounds was the ultimate excitement. I was taking an enormous risk. But such risk also added more excitement to my adventure. Listening to was a surreal experience in my teen years. I continued listening to them about a year on and off, before it lost its novelty and I lost the excitement.
Their sexual activities followed a very routine and predictable pattern. No variation, no sexual exploration. Just following the routine. When I heard their sex sounds, it took me to my memories of government housing when I saw them having sex on multiple occasions. The pattern has remained unchanged throughout the last six years. Dad lay on top of Mom and relished her well-endowed breasts - sucking, licking, manhandling. All along, with affection, Mom combed her fingers through his hair (I was very jealous of Dad while watching it). Then Dad slid up on her and fucked her in the classic missionary position. They took a break after the climax. After an interval, he fucked her again. This time he started in a sitting position. He placed a pillow underneath her buttocks to raise her hips. He sat between her legs and entered inside her in a sonkyo pose - kneeling with knees spread apart, feet together, and sitting on the heels, like a samurai. While living in Japan, I learned the name of this sitting pose and found it convenient to refer to it this way: sonkyo sex position. Eventually, he transitioned back to the missionary position before reaching his climax. My childhood memory would have faded if I hadn’t listened to their sex noises. Because I was recalling my childhood visual memories while listening to them, the memory remained vivid and clear.
Dad brought up “firm pillow” on multiple occasions, and that’s how I figured they were fucking in sonkyo position - the way I saw them five-six years ago.
Childhood visual memories enhanced my listening experience. I didn’t have to guess what they were doing. While listening to their sounds, I only had to recall my past visual experiences. Without my childhood memories, my listening experience would have remained only in audio form, missing the visual part. My childhood visual memories completed my listening experience. From bed creaks and their breathings I knew, with no doubt, whether they were fucking in missionary or in sonkyo position. I tried to think that they were trying different things, but their routine was so predictable that I ruled out other possibilities.
Their missionary involved familiar rocking movements. It started with very slow and mild creaks. Mom occasionally released low, contented “mmmm” sounds. As time passed, the volume and the pace of the bed creaks quickened. Lots of rustling on the bed. Mom’s heavy breathings were audible. Then comes Dad’s intense but suppressed groan, coinciding with a couple of loud, violent bed creaks. The last few bed creaks were so forceful that it seemed the entire bed was about to break apart. The mosquito-net frame swung back and forth and made its own creaking sounds (mosquitoes were around all year where I grew up, so every bed had a mosquito-net frame). To regain energy and delay orgasm, their journey to climax was punctuated by multiple long pauses, especially in the final stage before orgasm. These pauses were filled with the sound of kisses, contended “mmm” sounds and conversations in hushed tones.
The music of the sitting position was different. Creaks were more pronounced, each accompanied by a slapping sound, suggesting he was thrusting his cock hard inside her. Every creak-and-slap followed by Mom’s forceful exhale, or soft moan occasionally. Listening to her exhales was a huge turn-on for me. Every bed creak was followed by a pause of a few seconds. Creak, pause, creak, pause - the pattern continued for an extended duration in the initial stage of their fucking. Sometime I wondered why Dad maintained long gaps between his thrusts. Was it his way of practicing edging? In my sex life, I found quite hard to maintain such control and restraint for prolonged time. Both Dad and Mom made satisfied and contended “mmmm” sounds in this position. Eventually, Dad abandoned pausing, and the creaks got louder and intense, leading up to the climax.
Mom was never a moaner. But standing a few feet away, I could hear her heavy breathing and sighs, and they sounded very sensual. She moaned in a low voice before the climax, when Dad thrust very hard. They had one fucking session on most of the nights. They had two sessions once in a while with an interval in between (similar to what I saw them in my childhood). In those double-session nights, the first session was shorter and the second one was for a much longer duration.
They used very dirty and vulgar language while having sex. The same thing I noticed in my childhood as well. My parents were teachers, and they were respected in society. They had gentle and sober personalities in public. Hearing their dirty talk was very shocking. Especially Mom had a broad range of personalities in bed, from soft and affectionate (towards Dad) to vulgar and taunting. I could never quite reconcile her public and private personas in my young age. Yet I am glad I got to see that other side of her, rather than knowing her as a one-dimensional vanilla person. As I grew older, I loved her as a mother more after knowing the other side.
They spoke to each other in hushed whispers, and most of their conversations were unintelligible. However, once in a while I picked up some. Once Dad expressed his desire to fuck Mom without a condom. I also learned about one little secret. Although I am not sure, but I believe Dad drank Mom’s breastmilk when she was nursing either me or my brother. I found it disgusting. Overhearing such a thing was a big contributing factor to losing interest in listening to their sex. But I rationalized it as a normal sexual ritual between husband and wife. I assumed other couples did the same thing.
That was the pre-mobile era, and I had no electronic device in my young days. Therefore, I never thought about recording their sex sounds. But if I had a device, I would’ve recorded my parents.