Barakat had only been the caretaker of the apartment for eight months. She supposed she liked the job well enough, but it wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as her previous work. Spending the last three years of her life working as an office assistant for a real estate firm in Ogun, she was a whiz at office and management skills. But when she was exposed for having an affair with one of her bosses, she found herself without a job.
She had taken the management position initially as a way of paying her bills while enjoying the benefit of free room and board. Still, as mundane as the paperwork that crossed her desk daily was, she tried to find contentment in her new life.
She was an attractive 40-year-old woman, wearing her age gracefully. Her body was well-kept and had never given birth. Her breasts were full and for the most part still as perky as they had been when she was twenty. Barakat had no trouble finding men to spend time with, but the problem was most of them were too old for her. She had started craving younger men in the last few years, and this was only made all the more an issue with her when she started renting to a 21-year-old university student named Okoye.
Okoye was tall and in excellent shape. When he had first shown up at her office, he wore jeans shorts and a blue top, allowing his sculpted body to be displayed. He was handsome. Barakat found herself speechless as she briefly wondered what his pubic hair was like. His eyes were powerful and yet carried no cockiness or arrogance.
During the tour of the apartment, she kept her sunglasses on, watching him, taking in every line of his body. She fixated on his tight, round ass and imagined squeezing it, running her hands over and over it. She could also see that Okoye didn’t wear underwear, as a long, noticeable contour in the inside leg of his shorts revealed what had to be an eight-inch cock at rest. Her heart began thumping as she considered what he must be like with a full erection.
“This apartment is next to mine,” she said, finding her authoritative voice, “I don’t mind music, but please no parties. The last guy who was here destroyed everything except the toilet.”
“I’m not much of a partier,” he said, looking in the bedroom, giving her another view of his ass.
“I might occasionally play a little Burnaboy, but otherwise…”
“Well, if you’re going to be loud, why not do it with style?” she smiled and added, “Just not too loud.”
“So I’m in?” Okoye asked hopefully.
God, I wish you were in me, she thought bluntly and then said, “Oh yes Okoye, you’re in.”
Over the next month, she began to figure out his routine. Most of the time, he wasn’t home during the day but every other night, he would bring an attractive friend home, usually busty girls with breasts ready to pop out of her shirt.
They would disappear into his apartment and not be seen until the next morning. Barakat had spent hours masturbating, lusting after her neighbor as she listened to him and his ladies fuck next door. They would go for hours sometimes, the women reaching points where they were screaming as the bed knocked against the wall. Barakat was tempted to say something, but she held back. As much as she was jealous of these girls, she also was turned on by it.
“What the hell am I doing,” she muttered to herself one night after masturbating three times to Okoye’s sexual Olympics next door, “I could be this boy’s mother.”
She got up from her bed and walked to the bathroom. The hot water coming from the tap was too much coupled with the heat, so she made the rag cool instead. She jumped a little as the cold cloth touched her sensitive sex, and her nipples instantly hardened as she wiped away her excess vaginal fluid that had spilled out during her sessions tonight.
“It’s pathetic,” she said to no one and put on a robe, grabbing her pack of cigarettes and matches and slipping on her sandals. She didn’t bother with her hair as she opened the door and stepped out onto the front walkway that stretched from her apartment all the way down to number fifteen. Dusk had settled and the shadows of the long evening had finally started to change into nightfall.
And that’s when she saw Okoye, in only his jeans sitting on the ground and leaning against the front door of his apartment.
“Hey Okoye,” Barakat smiled as she cursed herself for not fixing her hair before coming out, “How you doing?”
Okoye smiled and shrugged. “Good as can be I guess. Yourself?”
“I’m great,” she lied, desperately trying to fight back the flood of erotic imagery crashing through her brain about Okoye.
“That’s good,” he said, and then looked at her. “Can I smoke?”
“As long as you smoke it with me,” she said, pulling out a cigarette and handing it to him. She lit them both up and they stood together, leaning against the black rod iron railing that separated the walkway from the small strip of lawn that ran beside it. Barakat congratulated herself for being bold enough to hint that she wanted him to stick around for a little bit.
“Hello old friend,” he said to his cigarette, taking a deep drag and clearly relishing it. Barakat couldn’t help but glance at his trouser, seeing his large cock make a bulge down the side of his left leg. She felt her heart flutter a little as her nipples tingled and hardened again. He must not have had an inch of fat on his body as she looked him over out of the corner of her eye, quietly lusting after him.
“So,” Barakat began, and then decided to be really bold, “Sounds like you had a busy night.”
Okoye smiled, a little embarrassed. “Oh shit, you heard that?”
“I think everyone on this row heard you two.”
“I am so sorry,” he offered, his voice genuinely apologetic.
Barakat shook her head. “It’s okay, Okoye. I was young once too, you know. When it’s good, it’s good.”
Okoye agreed, feeling better now as the subject changed and they talked about their jobs and a little about families over the next two cigarettes. Barakat was captivated by him as she listened, her pussy growing wet and needful again as he talked. His voice was sexy and smooth, even his ears were sexy.
“How much older than me are you, anyway?” he asked casually, changing the topic again, “You said you were young once, but you don’t look old at all.”
Barakat was caught off guard but recovered. “How old do you think I am?” she countered.
Okoye looked her over, and Barakat thought there was a little more there than just a critical look. Okoye guessed, a devilish smile crossing his lips, “Maybe 128?”
Barakat laughed. “You’re such a sweet guy. 140.”
“That’s not bad at all,” he said, adding, “You seem to wear it well.”
Now it was Barakat’s turn to be embarrassed. “Well, thank you. Compliments will get you everywhere,” she said, thankful for the dim dusky light that hid her smile, “I’m actually 40.”
“See, I would have guessed 32 or 33.”
The door to Okoye’s apartment opened and an impressive lady poked her head out. She was wrapped in a towel, and from what Barakat could see she was a stacked girl. Okoye was a breast man, no doubt about it as the girl asked, “You coming back in?”
Okoye finished his smoke and crushed it out on the edge of the cement walkway. “Yeah baby, be right there,” he told her as she smiled dizzily and closed the door.
“Duty calls,” Barakat said with a half-smile, but felt disappointed as she knew she would hear them again, and that she wouldn’t be the one he was fucking.
“Yep,” Okoye grinned, trying not to be over-excited. In the dim light, Barakat could see his bulge beginning to grow again. “Goodnight, Barakat.”
“Night, Okoye,” she said and he was gone.
The rhythmic pounding on the wall began anew, and Barakat fingered herself the whole time. Okoye lasted only a half an hour this time, and Barakat found herself finishing alone. When she was done, she lay on the bed naked for a long time, thinking and considering her options. She decided that if she had any chance of seducing Okoye, she would have to be more aggressive, bolder in her pursuit of him. They had enjoyed a great chat tonight, but he still had no clue she wanted to fuck his brains out.
The third of June rolled around and it was well up into the hundreds. Okoye rarely wore a shirt, and his muscular body turned more heads around the complex than just hers. The conversations at night over cigarettes turned into a regular event, and Barakat allowed herself to begin touching him on the shoulder, grabbing his arm when she laughed and even hugging him. She always made sure with each hug to not only bury her face in his neck but press her breasts against his chest firmly and put a hand on the back of his neck. Each time, she felt a rigid hardness in his crotch against her hip and knew that her plan was working.
One Saturday afternoon towards the end of the month, Barakat knocked on his door. She wore a top that hugged her breasts and showed off their full roundness, the shirt supporting her impressive bust by two spaghetti straps. She wore her gray trousers and sandals, the top of the trouser rolled down a little to reveal her navel. Her hair was pinned up and off her shoulders. Okoye answered the door and made no effort to hide his pleasure in seeing her. His eyes fell to her breasts and stayed there, despite his best efforts to maintain eye contact.
“Okoye,” she said, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, “My bedroom light bulb burned out, and I am not tall enough to reach it. Can you help me out?
“Sure,” he smiled and went next door with her.
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