Earlier in the life of Ngozi, she moved out of her parent's house and into her boyfriend Emeka's house. One day, his boss comes home to seduce her.
A lot had changed in Ngozi’s life in the last three months. She had met a guy named Emeka whilst visiting a friend. He was 25 and very cute, a little nerdy-looking than her previous boyfriends, but they got along really well.
Things developed quickly. He knew she was desperate to move out of her parent’s house. So after only a month of dating, Ngozi found herself moving into his flat in town. It was a new and exciting adventure for her.
Ngozi had never, at the age of 23, really been in a proper matured relationship before, so she was determined to give this one a chance. Sure, it meant denying her unusual urges which all seemed to revolve around older men, but she wanted to try and put those feelings to bed.
It was about time she had a normal boyfriend who was her age. Because that was the right thing to do…wasn’t it?
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He would buy her gifts, take her for meals, he treated her incredibly well. But nothing seemed to extinguish the nagging voices in the back of her mind.
Whenever they would eating at a fancy restaurant, all she could think about was how big the old manager dick was, the one who had been eyeing her up ever since she walked in.
After only a few weeks of being together, Emeka told her he loved her, but Ngozi could never bring herself to say it back. Was that fair on him? Maybe not. It was hard though when everyone around her seemed so happy for her that she had found a nice guy. Her mum was happy, her friends were happy, Emeka was very happy…but was she?
All she could do was give it more time. Maybe those feelings would grow? She cared about him a lot, there was no doubting that. But having never said ‘I love you’ to anyone before, something inside her told her she would know when she was ready. It would be unfair so say it if she didn’t truly feel it.
All she had to do was keep her darker urges away, and it might turn out okay…
“Emeka is that you?” Ngozi heard a loud noise coming from the hall, followed by the sound of two men laughing.
“God, look at you!” Her boyfriend had clearly tripped and fallen down and was being helped to his feet by a man Ngozi didn’t recognise.
“Baby, this is my boss Mr. Gbenga.” Emeka was slurring his words badly.
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“Please call me Gbenga.”
Ngozi thought that Mr Gbenga was quite a proper name. He looked tall and slender, with grey hair. His eyes were stern, a hard stern. Gbenga didn’t look as worse as her boyfriend did, but the occasional playful mood and the stagger in his walk, told her he was also drunk. Ngozi shook his hand and ushered the pair of drunks through to the parlour.
“I thought you said you were just going for a few drinks after work?”
“Yeah a few…or ten. Could you get us some bottles of beers, baby?”
“I think you’ve had enough.” Ngozi gave Emeka a stern look, but he waved her away.
“Just one more won’t…hic…do damage.”
“I’ll have one for the road if it’s on offer.” Gbenga chipped in.
Ngozi noted that Gbenga hadn’t stopped staring at her chest since he had walked in. This kind of behaviour never came as a huge surprise to her. She was well aware that her huge breasts, turned the heads of most men, both old and young, especially when they had a few beers in them. But there was something forbidding about his staring, it was like he was mentally undressing her with his stern eyes, and unashamedly so.
When she caught him looking he just winked and went back to checking out her body.
Given her track history with old men, Ngozi couldn’t help feel a little turned on by the constant leering. She wasn’t arrogant but she knew she was very beautiful, and that most men would kill to get close to her. Since meeting Emeka 3 months ago though, she had been nothing but a good and faithful girlfriend.
Her sex life was admittedly much more boring now, which was frustrating, but she cared about Emeka and didn’t want to do anything to endanger their relationship. Still, that didn’t stop her imagination from sinking back into the darker, dirtier, nastier places that had peppered her past, whenever she needed to relieve herself.
Something which she found herself needing to do much more regularly these days, no thanks to her boyfriend’s low stamina in the bedroom.
She handed them the bottles and went back to finish the washing of dishes. The parlour and kitchen were close. Gbenga had seated himself so that he had a good view of Ngozi as she washed. She was still wearing her work clothes. A tightly fitted, white blouse, which emphasised not only her incredibly large breasts, but also her slender waist. Her black skirt was short, finishing a few inches above her knees.
It too was figure hugging and made her juicy ass look even more mouth-watering, especially to a sex starved man like Gbenga.
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Ngozi’s wavy hair was tied back into a braid. Gbenga watched in a trance-like state, as it swung from side to side across her back as she vigorously scrubbed some pots and plates.
She had no idea of just how much of a pervert Emeka’s boss was, although she was soon going to find out. Every day at work Gbenga passed by Emeka’s desk, just to stare at the picture he had framed of Ngozi on it. He couldn’t believe that this nerdy-looking guy had gotten such a gorgeous girl. Those hips, those breasts, those lips and that face, the face of an angel.
He got into the habit of taking the photo into his office, once everyone had left for the day, and masturbated furiously over it. His obsession with her was reaching the extreme. Gbenga knew he had to meet her. So tonight he had purposely drugged Emeka’s drinks, hoping that Ngozi would be in when he carried her drunken boyfriend home. And boy was he not disappointed. She was even more stunning in the flesh.
She looked back over her shoulder. Emeka’s head appeared to be falling forward before being sitting upright again, she could tell he was on the verge of passing out. Gbenga gave her another wink.
A few minutes later, just as she had finished washing the last of the plates, she sensed footsteps behind her. As she was about to turn, a pair of hands gripped her shoulders and began to roughly massage them.
“You know I think your guy over there has fallen asleep. I want another beer, why don’t you have one with me?”
Ngozi tried in vain to wrestle free from his grip, but he stepped forward pinning her against the counter top.
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“Mr. Gbenga! Stop that!…you shouldn’t be…” He really was a bad man. His breath, which was right in her ear, stunk of cigarettes and alcohol.
“Oh now baby. It’s just a harmless shoulder rub. You looked tense that’s all.”
That wasn’t all though, because she could feel the hard bulge pressed firmly into her ass, which he began to slowly gyrate against her.
“Let me go Mr. Gbenga! Are you mad? My boyfriend is right there!” She tried again to weakly push his strong fingers away but he wasn’t moving.
“So? What’s he gonna do? And I told you to call me Gbenga.” He breathed the words into her ear again, inhaling her sweet perfumed scent as he did so. It sent a shiver right down Ngozi’s spine. She had been in this position before and knew full well were this was heading. Her body was reacting to the illicit scenario.
Her nipples hardened against her will and she could feel a familiar wetness in her crotch, this was bad, very bad.
“Ok! Ok! Let’s have one beer and then you can be on your way.” She knew this wasn’t what he really wanted, but it was worth a try.
“I’m not thirsty anymore. Tell me something Ngozi, how does a guy like Emeka manage to get a girlfriend who’s as sexy as you?” He ground into her again and Ngozi had to bite her lip to stifle a groan of lust which she fought to repress.
“Th…that’s personal…you…you shouldn’t.”
“You know this place of yours is nice but it’s really small. I could give your worthless stupid fool of a boyfriend over there a promotion. Then maybe you two lovebirds could find a nice big apartment? How does that sound?”
Gbenga was delighted that she hadn’t screamed the house down already. He had been fully expecting to be slapped, kicked in the balls, and verbally assaulted by now, but Ngozi was merely wriggling and weakly trying to get free.
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“I’m not going to fuck you for a nicer apartment if that’s what you are implying!” Ngozi felt it was time to cut to the chase. The longer this went on the more worried she became that she might just give in to her natural desires.
“Whoa! Calm down. I’m not suggesting we fuck, but maybe we could… have a bit of fun? If you know what I mean.” He leant forward and kissed on her lower neck.
“Fun for you maybe, but I doubt I would enjoy it.” She shot back in a harsh whisper. Even though her insides were screaming at her, that this was what she needed.
“You’ve got the nicest breasts I’ve ever seen. I just want to play with them for a bit, nothing else.”
“What!?! Are you CRAZY?”
Before Ngozi could stop him though, Gbenga’s hands had slipped around her sides and squeezed her breasts together, causing them to swell up obscenely inside her blouse.
“Ssshhhh! Be a good girl. Oh god they feel incredible.” Gbenga lifted and squeezed them all over, savouring the feeling of the smooth satin material against her soft mounds of flesh.
Ngozi fought harder to remove his relentlessly groping hands, but every time she push one away it was swiftly replaced with his other hand. Her body was betraying her like she knew it would. She couldn’t stop a few groans from escaping her lips as she was roughly felt up.
After about a minute of enduring her breasts being squeezed and manhandled until her nipples felt hard, she finally gathered her dwindling willpower. Knowing full well she couldn’t match him for strength, she lifted her high heeled feet over his and stamped down on it.
Gbenga yelped in pain and let go.
“You need to leave! Right NOW!” She waved her finger at him rebelliously but he just laughed.
“Fine. You can tell your boyfriend over there not to bother coming back to work.” Gbenga knew he didn’t have grounds to fire Emeka, in fact he was one of his best employee’s but he had to try something.
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“That’s not fair! You can’t do that!” Ngozi’s fierce whisper was almost a squeal, as she curled her lip in anger.
“Oh I can…and I will.”
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