THE HIPSTER ROOMATES

When I moved to Portland, I rented a room from a hipster couple near SE Clinton. It was one of those big 1905 style houses, with wood floods, built-in, and layers of chipping lead paint. A dog and thus dog hair everywhere. They were both in a couple bands, and thus musical instruments in every room, and the occasional band crashing on a couch when passing through on tour. For me, a perfect place to start out in a new town. For them, they liked having a renter to help pay off their mortgage, and walk their dog, and be around when they took off on trips. In short, it worked out.

Scott and Donna were pretty chill. They were late 20s or early 30s. Donna cooked a lot and kept her kitchen clean, but wasn't anal about being tidy. When I'd come home, I'd often find her kicked back on the couch smoking a bowl and then knitting. She'd often walk around the house in her underwear. Scott wasn't home much, but was always nice enough. His barista and bartending jobs and band practice kept him pretty busy, and he usually came home late, and was up and off when I got up. It was cool.

The thing about living with a young couple is that they had sex. A lot. The walls of the old house were thin--just uninsuralted lathe and plaster. The squeeks of their mattress could be heard throughout the house. I didn't mind. They seemed to have good sex. Scott was pretty quiet, but Donna was vocal. She didn't say words, like in the porn movies, but just lots of moans and sharp cries coming from her throat in rhythmic time to slapping skin. She'd get faster and louder, building in crescendo as she was overcome by her powerful orgasms.

As an old turn-of-the century house, most of the rooms connected. Some shared closets--which is totally unseen today, but common then. And since most old houses only had one plumbed bathroom, both of our rooms opened to it. Sometimes when I'd get up, they'd both be already gone for the day with their bedroom door still wide open. I never messed with their stuff or snooped, but when going to shut their door, I couldn't help but notice once they'd left ropes tied to their brass head board. And once they'd left a sex toy out in plain view. It was a large, glass but plug with smooth bumps. I guess they were cleaning it and just forgot to put it back.

Perhaps the most memorable time was when I was wakened by the sound of them having sex. It was pretty early in the morning, but already bright outside. It sounded like they were having sex in my room. Still in bed, I opened my eyes, and noticed my door to the bathroom was left partly open. From where I lay, I cold look into my mirror, and see, reflected, about a quarter of the bathroom. Scott sat on the toilet, Donna straddling him. She was slowly grinding her hips back and forth on his cock, and his hands clasped her buttocks, pulling her deeper with each thrust. It was slow, romantic morning sex, and yes, I watched. Yes....all of it.