I am under the bed enduring her brassy moans as her very alive husband ploughs her like barbarians do. How the bed frame is still in one piece, I do not know. My inner psyche didn’t see this coming, my ego is taking a pounding, literally. Now I’m trapped under this piece of furniture wondering why bad things happen to good people. This cougar has ruined me.
I have always had a thing for old wine, it comes with that vintage taste, taste that heals your thirst and stirs it, simultaneously. I like my women that way—stayed, refined, seasoned. The mummies with sugar, they intrigue me below the belt in ways PornHub cannot (Note: I have never visited this site).
The story here is that I was kpanshing a married woman unknowingly. Not my fault, I respect that institution too well to break it, plus I am too much of a good person; the woman told me she was a widow of 6-years when in fact she was married to a fully functioning Army Officer whose physique scared my demons.
It started with a simple hi, but “Hi” came off as a mere salute. She responded same. I had to take it up a notch, “you are extremely beautiful and that gown looks gorgeous on you” I had said with a grin while sizing this forty-something-year-old woman up. For her age, she had superb racks; I mean, they looked like they wanted me to grope them. Her rump was sculpted by an angel who surely had seen too much TV. “Who was the man who died and left this divine dame”?! I wondered. Now at that point, she gave me that Jidenna-smile, that smile that says “Wonderful, keep talking”. Now I had to drive my point home, “I do find older women insanely attractive, don’t mind my directness”. Her gaze started looking a little flirty with uncontrolled blushes, “Really? You don’t look so bad yourself” she said and we both laughed. We came to see a movie, the same movie. Coincidence? No! Fate!
We sat together through the movie—a chick flick. At this point, the eye flirting had graduated to the physical touching of less sensitive spots. I even rubbed on her hair like a pro, we had moved full-scale into the flirting territory. Midway through the movie, we had the moment, one of them movie perfect kiss moments, she leaned, I leaned in, 1…2…3…she looked away and with her hand on my groin she said, “wait for it”.
Belle done dey sweet me, I couldn’t wait for the movie to be over.
At the end of the outing, she suddenly went cold, after a chick flick, what are the odds? She had found reason, she left a kiss on my cheek. I was deflated, mostly physiologically. We exchanged numbers, so as my friends say “If there’s a number, there’s hope”.
We kept in contact, I kept the flirting basic, her attitude had left me cynical. Until one night, I’m enjoying the evening calm when I get a call. “My kids are having a sleepover, are you free for the evening?” …. it totally felt like a rhetorical question. “I will call you back, I need to clear my schedule” …as a Boss!
I’m on the floor of her room, it’s the second hour of incredible sex and she’s doing some unnamed position on the boy. I’m thanking God for the pills now, she’s ravaging me like she’s trying to beat a record. Just amazing. She knew STUFF, her movement was coordinated, yet erratic. We were going for the umpteenth round, when her intercom rings, her accomplice of a security man barks out “Madam oooooo! Oga don land”. She froze for five seconds, jumped off my erect member, started to run in circles. I was most discomfited. “Oga?!!!” I exclaimed, “sorry baby, just hide for your life”. Jesu! How did I get here? I run under the bed as she changes the bedsheet and sprays some rich-people air freshener around the room. She jolts to the bathroom to wash my scent off her. Her cover-up game though, serial killer instincts. Her giant of a husband comes in, joins her in the bathroom, he continues from where I stopped; you would be correct if you say he came in with a bang. They move to the bed… the ploughing, remember?
Later that night, they both go to the kitchen to continue, the man is ravenous, not for food. I sneak out of the house, the security guard lets me out quietly after I settle him with 5k. I’m relieved and angry at the same time. I could have lost my balls fam! Yes, and my life too
Two weeks later, I had just returned from work, enjoying the evening calm as usual when a call comes in. “My Husband has gone back to base; my Children are with my parents. Are you free tonight?”
Rhetorical question still! I have found me a dame to die for.
I wrote this
Truly a dame to die for…
I pity you
I love the build up but I feel you didn’t tease our imaginations enough
You started fine and then you rushed us and slowed down again
It’s unfair that you had to feed me this amazing piece too fast I didn’t get to savour it
But thank you still, it was tasty
I’m sorry you couldn’t savour the piece more, promise to leave you begging for more on the next one, I live to please
Sigh why is this comment layered with a lot of pleasurable things
*Sign of the cross*
It is well