It is a lazy Saturday morning for Obi, as he gets out of bed and languidly walks to his bedroom window. It is his usual ritual to walk to his bedroom window and soak in the first sign of dawn. He always felt that this singular act filled him with enough positive energy to begin his day.
However this morning was different, Obi’s eyes wanders from the vast horizon and settles below his 3rd floor bedroom window. His eyes catches movement, at first he is not sure of what he is seeing. A closer look and he sees a light skinned woman he does not recognize and he wonders if he had a new neighbor. Just as he tries to decipher her identity, the mystery woman unsuccessfully tries to keep the wrapper around her bosom from falling.
She is spreading freshly washed clothes on the line, thus her dilemma is clear, if she held on to her wrapper, it is likely her washed clothes would fall and get soiled. The mystery woman chooses the latter, she held on to the clothes on the line and allowed her wrapper fall, pooling at her feet. As she does this, she frantically looks around, to ensure she is alone, but she doesn’t look up.
Giving Obi an unfettered view of her beautiful nakedness.
Obi is torn between leaving the window and its rare vision or succumbing to this deliciously torturous ordeal. He chose torture, and his eyes widened to see as much naked flesh as his brain can process. His eyes are glued to her large yellow breasts, with a slight droop, her large dark brown areola, looked like cherry on a birthday cake. His eyes travel downwards to her soft looking midsection, she had a little belly, but nothing overwhelming. Her pouch was rather womanly and it rested beautiful at the apex of her groin, covered by a light sprinkling of jet black hair.
His gaze travelled to her ample hips, connected to well rounded thighs and held up by beautiful small feet. His gaze is suddenly blocked by her hateful wrapper, the mystery woman secures her wrapper, and walks away, her ample backside jiggling to the rhythm of the song she is humming.
Obi realizes that he has been holding his breath while he lewdly engages his eyes,he sucks in a deep breath and wipes the perspiration that had gathered on his brows and forehead.
The one word resounding in his head, “who is his mystery temptress”.
That evening, Obi decides to stop by his landlord’s house to discuss the faulty plumbing in his kitchen, he knocks on the door, waiting for a response, he is not prepared for who stands before him. It is his mystery temptress and she was even more beautiful close up.
Obi’s mouth goes dry.
His gorgeous temptress looks at him askance, he is uncomfortably aware that he looks like a simpleton. “Eskiss sir, who you dey find?”. Obi clears his throat, “I dey find Oga landlord”. His temptress looks behind her and loudly calls, “Daddy one man dey find you for door .”
Obi cannot believe his ears, his temptress is his landlord’s daughter, he is yet to come to terms with this revelation when his aged landlord wobbles to the door, “my pikin, how you dey, any problem?”. Obi cannot help himself and he asks, “Oga landlord, Na you born that fine yellow girl?”. His landlord chuckles and looks at him, rather suspiciously, “na my last born Yewande be that, them don pay money for her head, dey your lane.”
For the first time, Obi is ashamed of his notoriety as the ‘area ashawo’, it is a compulsion for him to taste any woman he meets and Yewande was no exception, before the week was out, he would sink himself between her legs.
Obi puts his strategy in place, he is more cordial with Yewande, getting her to be less defensive around him is easy; because she is not ‘woke’, her reaction to him is pure, devoid of the manipulative calculations of a ‘typical Lagos girl’. It is easy to win her heart with beautiful meaningless trinkets, long hugs and sweet nothings whispered to her in pidgin. She had begun to freely visit his flat and help with his chores, sometimes she would bring cooked food for him and he would eat with enthusiastic relish, much to her delight. He had even made it a habit of walking around shirtless with just skimpy briefs on, the kind that proudly emphasised his bulge.
With how much her eyes lingered on his bulge, it was clear to Obi that Yewande fancied him, but he was bidding his time and soon he would take what she was subtly giving.
That fateful evening, Yewande comes to his flat as is her ritual, this time Obi answers the door with the towel around his waist hanging dangerously low, he is fresh out of the shower. One look at his damp muscled chest and wet hair, leaves Yewande stammering a greeting. Clearly she is not expecting this fine specimen of a man at the door . He does not let her recover, but drags her into his arms, while walking backwards into his apartment. The hug is an unholy one, because Obi holds her tight that she feels the length of his phallus against her pelvis, while daringly reaching down to grab both her butt cheeks through her dress. Obi buries his nose in her neck and inhales, Yewande smelled like an unfamiliar spice, he finds her scent pleasing. He breaks the hug and looks at her, he can see the confusion clearly in her eye, then he kisses her trembling lips.
As he kisses her, Obi lifts her from the floor and makes the short walk to the sofa, he sits and Yewande is still straddling him. His lips travel to her ear lobes, he is biting and sucking them. She cannot keep a moan of pleasure from escaping, emboldened, Obi’s damp tongue travels to her neck, leaving the trail of fire and lust in its wake. He pauses his onslaught, raises his head to look at her again, her eyes are closed and her head slightly thrown back. He proceeds to bite her nipples through her dress, he knew that Yewande never wore a bra underneath her jalamia. He was sure she did not wear any panties too, because the musky scent of her femininity was beginning to rise from between her groin nestled close against his.
As if to confirm his suspicion, Obi moves his hand between her legs and his thumb begins to slowly massage her fat, wet clitoris. Yewande holds him even tighter, to stop herself from falling. While his thumb played with her engorged clitoris, he inserts a finger, then another into her dripping pu**y. Her reaction is instant as her walls tightly clench him, as if to milk the life out of his fingers.
Obi is losing control fast.
He lifts her buttocks and unties his towel. He is ready, veined and strong, Obi pushes her dress out of his way, with both hands clenching her buttocks, he guides her to the tip of his very erect p*nis.
However he doesn’t enter her immediately, instead he is teasing her drenched pu**y lips with his d*ck, Yewande was stuttering several Yoruba phrases, Obi did not understand. As he teases her, his teeth lightly bites her nipples through her dress. It is a struggle not to bury himself deep inside of her, it did not help that Yewande was slowly undulating her hips, as her buttocks clench and unclench in the palm of his hands.
Without missing a beat, Obi roughly impales her with his c*ck; as he buries himself deep inside of her, he doesn’t move, he is still sucking and biting her nipples . Her reaction to his intrusion is immediate, Yewande tightens like a vice around his manhood and she begins to milk him . “Easy”, he chuckles, Obi is afraid that if she continues milking him, he would disgrace himself. He lifts her buttocks and disengages himself, Obi sees the slimy trail of her juices covering him and he moans. While her buttocks is held mid air by his strong hands , he impales her once again, this time he begins to move.
He is fast and then slow, the sound of their groins slamming against each other, the wet squishy sound of her pu**y each time he thrust, became the music of their mating. Obi’s thrust are rhythmic, he is pounding faster, harder and going deeper.
They are both shouting, or is it him, he cannot tell. Yewande is eager to join the dance, so Obi lets her, now she is undulating her hips as if dancing to a song only she can hear. It is his turn to beg her in Igbo. But his temptress does not stop, her waist is going round and round and her very soft buttocks is slamming against his thighs.
This is all too much for him and he allows himself fall into a pleasurable abyss, the fall is unending, almost feverish and delirious. As Obi waits to catch his breath, Yewande disengages, letting him and herself flow out her womanhood. She playfully laughs and rushes into his bedroom.
Obi is curious and follows her, there she is in his bed on her knees, her buttocks up in the air and her slightly swollen, dripping vulva pointing in his direction.
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