An Afternoon With The Author (18+) - 'Deolu #ONIRANU Bubble!
April 18, 2021

An Afternoon With The Author (18+)
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An Afternoon With The Author (18+)

Morning,

Someone sent this in earlier this week, I think the writer is brilliant, have fun reading it.

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‘An afternoon with the author’. That was my prize. The grand prize, the first runner up had gotten a blackberry playbook and I had gotten an afternoon with the author. I seriously wanted to switch places. I didn’t know who the author was, I had gotten involved with the writing competition because my best friend registered me without my knowledge.

We had been asked to describe an ideal afternoon with that author. My description was a lazy afternoon, seated on the floor of a quiet bookshop talking about our favorite books and favorite authors. He had liked it, I didn’t even want to come. Why spend an afternoon getting hit on? But my bestie loved his work and she wanted all the details.

I got out of the cab in front of the small non-descriptive bookshop situated on one of the many side streets that dotted the Awolowo road, Ikoyi section of the map. The curtains were still in place behind the picture windows. He was late.  I paid the leering taxi driver and walked towards the building. I wasn’t sure what he was leering at, I was wearing a properly flared skirt and a long sleeve button down shirt. I wasn’t even trying to be sexy.

The door opened before I knocked and I took a step back. He was nothing like I expected. In a novel I’d have come face to face with a supermodel with geek glasses on. He was short. Not Aki or Paw Paw. But barely taller than I am, that wasn’t what caught my attention. He was muscular. I could tell beneath the loosely fitted casual top he wore and that smile. He looked innocent, adorable.

When he spoke, it was accentless but refined. I smiled without thinking.

“My name is Edem” He said calmly

“I know” I shot back, clearing losing my cool due to the ultra sexiness I imagined under the loose fitting shirt.

I followed him into the bookshop while he turned on the lights and opened the blinds. “I’m sorry” he said,

“I’ve been here for a while but I like to sit in the dark, would you like something to drink?” My mouth had suddenly gone dry so I nodded.

He led me past shelf after shelf of books, I craned my neck to catch glimpses of some of the more familiar titles, as I followed him through the door on the far end of the wall, I walked into a kitchen that was a far contrast to the mini-library I had just come through.

He pulled an apron off the back of the door and slipped it on. He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt till they settled just beneath his elbow.

“What would you like?” I told him anything, he smiled again and I started smelling cookie dough.

It was ridiculous, my blackberry beeped and I snuck a peep, it was my bestie she was hungry for gist. I hurriedly typed a message saying I just got here. She read and replied in seconds ‘is he hot?’.

It was part of why she adored him, he was mysterious. She had heard him on the radio but there were no pictures of him. All his promo shots were graphically altered so his features were unclear. His book spoke to her and she wanted to see who he was. I ignored the message.

When I looked up, he was backing me, pulling cookies out of the oven.

“I didn’t bake these, he said before he turned around. Chocolate Royale deserves the credit, I was just warming them. When I read your entry I thought the only thing missing was a plate of cookies and a jug of milk.”

He pulled out a jug of milk from the fridge. He was definitely eccentric, which Nigerian adult likes cookies and milk?

He walked over to the tall center island and hopped onto it.

“My office tells me I’m supposed to inspire you in the space of 4 hours, from noon till 4pm, you’ll have a press conference and tell everyone how great it was to hang out with me for an afternoon. I don’t know if I can do that. What inspires you?” He said

The question caught me off guard. I hastily put together a reply.

“Family, Friends, Good things. I’m epicurian”. I said

“Epicurius, so pleasure motivates you.” He replied

“Rather hedonistic. What gives you pleasure?” Another question, like he was testing me.

“Winning, being in control, great sex”. I said that last bit before I thought, I just blurted it out.  He fell silent, I started to stammer an apology then he got off the island walked over and lifted me clean off my feet. I am not fat but I’m not petite or light either, I weighed a solid 60kg and he picked me up like I was a child. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively.

My brain was trying to play catch up.

How did we get here? But my body knew, I could feel my nipples pushing against the fabric of my lace bra. Already sensitive!

Aching to be touched, my hands were already on his arms. Feeling through that casual shirt, tracing the outlines of his muscles I could feel them beneath the smooth dark skin. My hair had fallen over my face and I wanted to kiss him, to lean in and forget every alarm bell that had gone off in my now active brain.

He was adorable and I wanted to ravish him.

“I want you too” he whispered then his right hand that had been holding me aloft left my ass while his left shifted a bit to accomodate the weight. That hand found its way up my back and with a lazy flick he unhooked my bra strap. I think the bra might have been affronted, he had brushed it aside like a cobweb.

“I must apologize for my hastiness but when you walked in with half your shirt undone it took everything to not stare and that’s all I’ve wanted to do since you came in” I looked at my shirt sure enough the first three buttons were loose. Sigh

He set me on the counter then pulled the shirt open. He looked me straight in the eye as he loosened all the other buttons. I let him push the shirt over my shoulder. I watched him look at me, his eyes darkened, then he lowered his head. Just before his lips connected with my right nipple that was practically pulsating in anticipation, he stopped. I could feel his breath on it. A hair’s breadth away, just breathing.

I felt his hands traveling up my legs. Forging identical paths up both of them. When he reached my upper thighs he stopped and spun them in gentle circles. It was like he was sending subliminal messages to my nether regions, my ex had said I was difficult to please, getting me to climax was like breaking the Da Vinci Code, you had to understand Latin. We hadn’t even started fucking but I was flooded and I knew for a fact, Edem Isong was fluent in latin.

As the tips of his fingers inched closer to  the center of me they slowed, I willed them to go faster, his breath was still hitting my nipple evenly the combination was heavy, as the fingers closed in on the folded lips I arched my back and my nipple slipped into his mouth.

“Good girl” he muttered.

I looked down to find him smiling. He knew exactly what he was doing then he traced the opening from the base to my clit in slow motion and the words of protest on my lips died.  The thought I had was of Paganini, referred to as the devil’s fiddler. I was the fiddle and I was enjoying being played.

When his lips left my nipples and his tongue stopped drawing lazy circles around them, I felt a profound loss, I wanted to grab the back of his head and shove it back there. There were a lot of things I wanted to do that I couldn’t. I wanted to touch him, to pleasure him in return but I was caught in the onslaught, he didn’t seem to care. He was focused, focused on me and that thought heightened my pleasure.

He had a finger inside me, stroking my walls, his thumb was on my clit, his left hand was everywhere else. He leaned up till his lips were next to my ears then he slowly whispered everything he intended to do to me.

He was going to lift me up the counter and drop me on his dick and after I had come, he would lead me into the library and eat those cookies off my skin and then he would bend me over and slowly teach me to scream his name. Listening to him, I climaxed for the first time. He felt me contract and the flood of wetness that followed. Then he pulled his finger out then lifted me off the counter and impaled me. I had no idea when he took his trousers off.

I had my legs wrapped around him again. He moved backwards, to the centre of the room. My hands were on his shoulders, his were cupping my ass. He moved and I exploded.

In reality he was standing still. He lifted me off his dick, then dropped me onto it. It was thick and unmoving and when it filled me all the way to the hilt, I came again.

When he lifted me off it again, I reached down to feel it, I had to. He let me run my hands around it, holding me aloft. I had stopped worrying about how heavy I was, he could handle it. He looked adorable but he wasn’t, he was an alpha male. The next time he impaled me it was gentle, he slid into a gentle rhythm, gradually building his pace. I didn’t care about anything else now, not the repeated beeps from my blackberry, not my friend on the other end, not the fact that I was audible to the occupants of the nearby buildings.

The first two times I came had been sudden, I was caught by surprise. Now I could feel it building. The sensation originated from my shoulders and travelled down my spine, my whole body stiffened and convulsed around him, the pleasure ripped through me and escaped in a scream.

He kept carrying me, he was still hard inside me but he wasn’t thrusting anymore. I needed the time to recuperate and I think he knew it.  We just stood there. My eyes were closed, occasionally a ripple of pleasure would flow through me and I’d shudder. It was comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest, I could fall asleep here, then I opened my eyes and caught side of the glass of milk still sitting on the center island.

I can’t sleep yet, we had cookies to eat.

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Written by
Dr. Deolu Oniranu-Bubble

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