I was absentmindedly playing with myself now. Then I started to think about the things she said. How it was so wrong, and how she was practically mocking Bisola. My feelings were so jumbled up. That really pissed me off, but I couldn’t deny that it had obviously turned me on even more. God, she was so arrogant. I was stroking myself harder then. That bitch is so sexy and she knows it.
I closed my eyes and pictured her. Everything she did just exuded confidence and sensuality. I imagined her hands on my cock again. This was so wrong. I should be pissed off. I shouldn’t be playing it over in my mind, fantasizing about it. Bisola would be so angry if she knew. God, I’m a mess. I’m so horny. This is wrong.
Then I heard Nneka’s voice in my head, repeating what she said earlier: maybe it being wrong is what makes it hot?
I grit my teeth and came again for the day. Then I fell asleep.
It had been a couple of weeks since my encounter with Nneka. When we shared the same shifts at work, I found myself to be a mess. I was constantly anxious, wondering if she was going to bring it up, or worse, call up my “debt” to her. But she didn’t. She continued to merely flirt with me and tease me mercilessly.
I became victim to her constantly brushing up against me. When someone may have noticed, she always did something harmless like her hand on the small of my back. Sometimes she would squeeze between me and a counter. When she faced me, she pressed her breasts into my chest, staring me dead in the eyes. Other times she had her back to me, and pressed her ass into my cock. Without fail, and despite my reluctance, I would be hard whenever she did it.
Once, when I was going down a hall and she coming up it, she blatantly reached out and ran her hand down the front of my trouser, grabbing lightly. I stopped dead in my tracks and she cooed, “Does he miss me?” Before I could say anything, her hand would go and she would continue walking, knowing I was helpless to her wiles.
I tried to tell myself that what had happened those weeks ago was a stroke of luck. She had gotten me off; she knew she could, so I was already a done deal to her. Sure she teased me about it, but that was just because we were around each other. She had had her fun, so she wouldn’t need to act on me anymore. I’m not sure how much I actually convinced myself of that though.
I was wracked with guilt over the whole thing. All this time, Bisola was paranoid that Nneka would seduce me. Well, she practically did. On one hand, I hated myself for letting it happen. But I hated it more that I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I thought about it constantly. I masturbated thinking about it all the time.
When Bisola would start up an argument about Nneka, I would become more bitter. I even started to blame her, thinking that if she didn’t complain so much, maybe Nneka wouldn’t seem so captivating. I just wanted to shout,
“Every time you bring her up, you realize you make me think about her? Is that what you want?” But of course, I didn’t.
I felt a kind of relief on the days I worked when Nneka didn’t. I could relax; no need to worry about her trying to rile me up, or worse, make me return her “favour”. However, I was also ashamed to admit that I missed her as well. What was my problem? As much as I hated her tantalizations, I found that I craved them when they weren’t there.
Not all days were bad though. Sometimes when she wasn’t there, she didn’t infest my thoughts and things went well. One day, in particular, was going really nicely. Bisola and I were working on some things together and, for once, she wasn’t avoiding me on the job as she usually does. She was in a good mood and, with Nneka absent for the day, downright cheerful.
This was the Bisola that I loved to spend time with. Of course, it was that day that Nneka had to show up anyway. As if she knew.
“Hey everybody!” she sang at the doorway into the kitchen. Everyone turned to greet her. Apparently, she had some family from her village visiting her and she thought she would bring them to her restaurant to sample the food. She said this all in that enigmatic way she says everything which flattered the chefs and showed her to be such a sweetheart.
I didn’t really pay much attention to what she was saying though. As she was a guest today, she was wearing her personal clothes. It was hot weather, so she wore a loose skirt. It was long enough to avoid being slutty, but short enough (above the knees a bit) to still be very provocative. It showed off her long, smooth legs perfectly, all the way down to an innocuous pair of sandals.
She was wearing one of those shirts that show off a bit of cleavage and all of the shoulders, somehow clinging onto her by her arms and breasts. In short, she looked absolutely amazing; somehow managing to carry off this look as not particularly scandalous, perhaps just cute… yet knowing she looked like a goddamn bombshell.
She chatted up the kitchen for a little while longer, not paying me any particular attention, and went back out to rejoin her family. “I bet you liked that look,” I heard Bisola mutter, annoyed. I rolled my eyes and attempted to make her feel foolish as if she was overreacting.
But I knew deep down that I would be masturbating to her image in that skirt the next time I had a chance.
Things went on uneventfully for an hour or so after that. I decided to hit up the employee’s toilet to take a pee. On my way out to the hall, I noticed Nneka introducing her family to her co-workers in the kitchen. Dodged that bullet, I guess.
In the toilet, I let out a deep sigh and tried to clear my head. Maybe I’ll just take my time in here, wait a few minutes, and then she will be gone. No need to tempt fate and have Bisola get pissed off again. I moved to wash my hands and did so very deliberately and slowly, focusing on the water running over my skin. I heard the door open behind me and didn’t think anything of it. “So this is where you’re hiding!”
I looked up and saw Nneka in the mirror, smiling like a cat. She walked up and stood behind me, wrapped her arms around my stomach, and pulled close against me. “You weren’t trying to avoid me, were you?” she pouted. The feeling of her pressed up against my back, arms around me, immediately reminded me of our encounter by the store. I swallowed hard.
I tried to be nonchalant: “I think you took the wrong door.”
She giggled, “I don’t think so. I was looking for you!” She used her arms to turn me so I faced her. Looking me up and down, she smiled even bigger when she saw the tent in my trousers.
“Nice to see him again!”
I shrugged. No witty comeback came to me. I even had a stupid little grin on my face. But that was wiped off my face when, in a little girl’s voice, she said, “I would like to cash in for my prize, sir.”
I stuttered. “Um… Your uh- your family is waiting for you…”
“Oh, don’t worry about them. Uncle Obi is a glutton for food. He will chat up recipes for a half hour before they know what hit them!”
“What do you- I uh- Nneka, I can’t… I mean, you know, Bisola…”
Her smile briefly faded from her face, but then returned seductively. “You,” she said, pointing her finger at me and poking my chest, “owe me one. And something tells me you didn’t forget our little adventure.”
My mind was reeling for excuses. “Well, look, anybody could just walk in here!”
“Aw, that’s cute… you’re shy!” God, she could be so patronizing. But it still affected me. She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me into a stall. Shutting and locking the door, she leaned her back against it. “There, now we’re all alone!”
I just stared into her eyes. I already felt defeated. What was she going to do to me? What was she going to try and make me do? Part of me thought about pushing her out of the way and storming out of the toilet. But I knew I couldn’t do that. For one, she might take it out on me and tell Bisola everything. Also, deep down, I was trembling in anticipation.
“You know,” she said softly, “I saw you staring at my legs when I first came in today. Do you like my skirt?” She ran her hands down the fabric of her skirt and when reaching the bottom, slightly pulled it up to reveal more of her legs.
“Yeah, it’s uh- it’s nice.”
“I thought you might like it. I love skirts. I think they’re sexy. I have shorter ones at home… maybe I can show them to you sometime! Would you like that?”
I was transfixed, staring at her hands running along her legs. She moved so effortlessly yet drove me to such arousal.
“What, why are you speechless? Does Bisola not ever wear skirts for you?”
“She- she wears them sometimes, yeah…”
“Hmm,” she mused, “Tell me. Do you like me in a skirt more?”
My heart skipped a bit. The nerve of this bitch to try and play me against my own girlfriend. Yet gazing at her thighs, watching her run her fingers along with them, I was stunned to hear myself admit, “Yeah…”
Nneka gasped with pleasure. “Oh my god! You are SO bad! I can’t believe you actually said that… Wow… That is awful…” She lifted her hands and put them on my shoulders. I looked back up into her eyes. “I liked that.” Then she pushed me down and guided me to my knees.
I didn’t put up any fight. I kneeled down willingly and placed my hands on her legs, running up her thighs. She pulled up her skirt further and revealed a pair of lacy, light blue panties. “Take them off,” she directed. I tentatively grabbed onto them and slowly pulled them down, revealing her beautiful pussy.
She wasn’t completely shaven; there was a little patch resting above her slit. It was perfect. She lifted one foot, then another, letting me completely remove the panties from her legs.
I was breathing hard. She pulled up her skirt more and bunched it up around her waist. Then, leaning against the stall door, she lifted her right leg and wrapped it around my left shoulder. Her right hand held the back of my head and gently guided me to her waiting pussy. I could smell her arousal; she was definitely wet already.
I wrapped my left arm around the leg she rested on me, and ran my right hand along her other leg and cupped her bare ass. Then, closing my eyes, I slowly leaned into her and began to lick delicately along her slit. She gave a soft moan immediately upon my tongue’s contact.
Her fingers on the back of my head clenched a little, scratching into my neck. This only encouraged me to lap at her with more enthusiasm.
This post has already been read 4011 times!