June 26, 2022

Average Joe [Reboot]: Nneka, The Pretty Devil (S02E24) (18+)

Home » Average Joe [Reboot]: Nneka, The Pretty Devil (S02E24) (18+)

Average Joe [Reboot]: Nneka, The Pretty Devil (S02E24) (18+)

I turned to her on the chair, put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her down. “How about you do not talk about her for once?” I was never particularly forceful with Bisola, and this shocked her.

“Oh, you’re getting rough. Does just hearing Nneka’s name turn you into an animal–?” I leaned in and cut her off with a forceful kiss on her mouth. I’m not sure why I did it. Maybe it was to shut her up. Maybe it was because she was talking about Nneka. But for whatever reason, I felt her kiss back. I was a little shocked, thinking she would push me away.

When I released the kiss, she looked at me with surprise in her eyes. She breathed, “I fucking hate that bitch!” and pulled my face back to hers to continue the kiss. This one was even more passionate, and I felt myself growing hard. I began to run my hands along her sides and up her shirt. She reciprocated and pushed her hands along my chest, pushing my shirt up as she went. We broke from our kiss and she practically tore my shirt off.

Then she got up off the couch, glaring at me. She was breathing hard, and I had no idea what was going through her mind. Then she undid her jeans and pushed them off of her, taking her panties along with them. My eyes popped as I saw her wet pussy. She was horny!

“Nneka may look like a goddess, but will she fuck you like one?” she said in an impassioned curse. She dropped down to her knees and worked my trousers down to my ankles. My hard cock sprang into view. At first, I was nervous; was she going to think I was hard because she was half-naked, or because she was talking about Nneka?

She grabbed it at the base and rushed up to it to take it in her mouth like a snake striking its prey. I involuntarily moaned as she took more of me into her mouth than she ever had before, sucking with such enthusiasm and swirling her tongue around the shaft. I thought this was great, but I felt my aggression at her mention of Nneka surge back up inside of me. I grabbed her hair and pulled her off my dick, staring at her. “What’s the matter?” she hissed, “Don’t you like it? Just think about her if you have to!”

I got up from the couch with her still kneeling before me. I kicked my jeans and boxers off my ankles and grabbed her arms to bring her up. “You’re really pissing me off!” I growled and pushed her hard back onto the couch. One of her legs draped over to the floor, the other was pressed against the back of the chair. She looked up at me as if challenging me to do something. I took one look at her dripping pussy, then climbed on top of her and pushed my cock into it.

She yelped in surprise but enthusiastically grabbed onto my ass and pushed back into me. I put my weight on my arms that pushed down on the couch on both sides of her and gave her long, hard strokes. I was shocked at how wet she already was.

Neither of us said anything for a minute as we found our rhythm and worked into each other. Eventually, between her heavy breaths, she started grunting things to me. “Yeah, my man likes to fuck, not just look. Nneka’s all- ah- all show.” I didn’t say anything back to her. My mouth was clenched shut and I just focused on moving how she wanted me to move.

“Yeah, but… fuck! What a show. Goddamn, she’s- yeah- she’s so hot. Ah- I hate her so much! She’s got that- that perfect little body… she- ah- she fits into everything fucking perfectly!”

I clenched my hands, squeezing into the chair, trying to stay in control of my body. I couldn’t believe she was bitching about how gorgeous Nneka was while fucking me. But she continued.

“God! Her breasts! Why does she- ah- get to have such perfect breasts! They’re so big on- yeah- so big in her tiny shirts. Uhhh! They just- ah- pop out! Begging to be sucked by- uhhhh!”

I felt myself push into her rather hard, breaking our rhythm momentarily. She was turning me on so much, I could barely take it. Thinking about Nneka’s breasts bulging behind some flimsy shirt was almost too much to take. I worried for a second that she knew what effect she was having on me and was going to get furious and stop. To my astonishment, she went on.

“Yeah, see? I knew you liked them. God! I- ah- I can’t blame you. She’s so- ah- her ass too… that tight little thing! The way she- she sways it when she walks for you or- oh! Bends over… GOD! Stupid bitch!”

I was trying to slow her down. She was humping against me really hard, grinding her body against me, pushing me into her with her hands still clutching my ass. But it was no use. She was like an animal in heat. What in the world had come over her? I dimly thought that it must be the alcohol; she must be drunker than I thought, but these thoughts quickly fled and she moaned.

“I hate her so much! That prostitute, Nneka! Thinks she’s- ah- ah! Knows she’s so SEXY! Fucking- ah- perfect body…” I couldn’t believe it, but she was getting ready to climax. I could feel the telltale signs: the way her body tensed up and her changed breathing. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you Nneka! I hate you- fucking bitch! Ah! Yeah, fuck you! Nneka! Nneka!” She was chanting her name between gasps.

I simply couldn’t take anymore and started coming hard into her. I had never been so turned on in my life. My body shook, completely out of control, and I collapsed onto her as I pumped into her without a care in the world. She responded by wrapping one arm around my back, now pulling me as close to her as possible, grinding against my spasming cock.

“Yeah! Nneka! Fuck you! Fuck- fuck- fuck you- OH fuck!” This last word turned into a wail as she finally found release and came against my body. For my own part, I was just coming down from my high, but I was so horny that I still found myself fairly hard.

My shock from her dirty moaning and screams started pumping new life into me and I got harder. I was sure I couldn’t come again; I had already unloaded way more than usual into her, but I was damned if I wasn’t going to keep fucking her as long as she wanted me to.

She continued to drive into me as if squeezing as much possible orgasm out of the situation that she could. Her body continued to tremble after the bulk of her climax was over. I think she may have had a couple of little “aftershocks” as she came down from her high. Her eyes were clenched shut and her mouth hung open in exhausted satisfaction. Eventually, her arms relaxed and she went limp. I stared at her in wonder. Damn, she passed out from that!

I gently pushed myself up and off of her, and slowly slid out of her pussy. She barely stirred. There was a trace of a little smile on her face, but otherwise, she appeared asleep. I got off the chair, realized it was a mess; we had completely soaked it in our sweat and cum. Not wanting to disturb Bisola, I decided it could wait until she woke up.

I went into the kitchen and washed my hands, splashing water on my face. My thoughts raced as I tried to figure out what in the hell just happened. What would have normally turned into a huge argument and ruined our night had somehow turned out to be the most scandalous sex we ever had. I was shocked as to Bisola actually getting off on Nneka. How does that even work? She was bitching about Nneka’s body, moaning in detail about it, and actually getting off on it.

Was it really the alcohol? Did it stir up something that she was repressing inside of her? Maybe it was just a strange way for her to deal with her emotions? I just did not know. All I did know was that I couldn’t believe my girlfriend and I just fucked and came together to the thought of her rival.

I went back to the chair and picked up my trouser. As I gazed at Bisola and thought about the things she said, I couldn’t help but wonder. How is this going to play out when she wakes up? And in the back of my mind, I pondered, how can I bring this up to Nneka…


I stayed the night over. Bisola seemed bent on sleeping on the chair, so I put some blankets over her and let it be. The next morning, I made a simple breakfast and she finally stirred to get up. We made small talk. It was slightly uncomfortable. I knew that she remembered what had happened the previous night. Sure she was a bit drunk, but she wasn’t so plastered that she would have blacked out. However, I dared not mention our escapades before her. I had no idea how she might react. Anger? Embarrassment? Indifference?

At any rate, she didn’t bring it up, so I refrained from broaching the topic. Although I was very anxious to talk about it, it seemed clear to me that she wasn’t interested. Perhaps it was a one-time thing. Or maybe she simply didn’t know how to explain it herself. Whatever it was, for now, it would have to rest.

Over the next few days, things slowly returned to normal. By “return”, I mean to say things were different insofar as Bisola did not bring up Nneka for a while. This made sense to me. She probably figured if she brought it up, then we would surely talk about that impassioned night.

I noticed at work, Bisola didn’t get angry with me as much when she saw Nneka flirting with me. Maybe she felt more secure, airing out her aggressions and knowing (or at least assuming) that she was the only one who ever saw any action with me. I also thought I noticed her checking Nneka out every so often. And not just that competitive look that girls give when comparing another’s body to their own, but more like an actual interest in what she was seeing. The thought of that excited me deeply, but I decided I must have been imagining things. Wishful thinking due to the way she spoke before.

In some ways, that fervent sex actually dimmed my lust for Nneka. Oh, it was still there of course. But it made me look at Bisola in a new light. There was a fire there that I liked, something really excited me. But as time went on, and as Bisola made no indication whatsoever that she would want to talk about that night, let alone repeat it, that feeling started to diminish. Nneka’s flirtations once again stimulated me, and her forbidden attraction stirred over.

I tried to put it out of my head. It was doable when we had a stretch of workdays where we didn’t share the same schedule. Out of sight, out of mind. But eventually, a day would roll around where we would be working side by side, and her teasing would rile me up. Then there I will be again, fantasies of Nneka dancing around in my mind.

On one such day, we had been talking about nothing in particular, and there was a lull in the conversation. Then she tentatively suggested, “How often do you wish we weren’t even?” There was a brief but pregnant silence. My mind was racing. This was in ways a much more direct reference to our previous sexual activities. It was still flirty, but there was something more serious in her voice that made me panic.

The faithful side of me (or what was left of it) wanted to get away from this topic as fast as possible. The shameless side of me wanted to see how I could play this out. I could tell she was smiling inwardly at my discomfort. But before I managed to say anything, one of the chefs called her over to help with something.

I noticed my palms were sweaty from the mere insinuation of another possible meeting. I wondered anxiously the rest of the day if she was going to bring it up again, but she dropped the subject. As usual, I was both relieved and disappointed.

Before we left for the day Esther, another young co-worker announced to the rest of the young crew that she was having a party at the house she rented that upcoming Friday. I was on friendly terms with her and I figured I would make an appearance. I assumed Bisola would go too. Deep down I speculated whether Nneka would show.

I learned the next day that Bisola already had plans to go out with her visiting sister that night. Since there would be enough mutual friends at the party, I decided it wouldn’t look too terrible if I went anyway; my chief fear being that Bisola would suspect I was only going to see Nneka. To my surprise and relief, she didn’t flip me any trouble over the matter. She suggested that, if I was still there, she would make an effort to stop by later after she met with her sister. I said that was a fine idea and that was that.

The day of the party rolled around and I had to admit to myself there was a level of nervous energy balled up inside of me. Although I was happy to go out and socialize, I had to confess I was mainly going with the hope that Nneka would make an appearance. What might she do now that we were away from work? I was restless with anticipation.

When I arrived, things had already picked up at the house. It was fairly big: two stories. On the first floor, there was a large kitchen and living space that was fairly wide open. The furniture had been moved to allow dancing for those interested; loud music consisting mostly of a steady boom boom played on. I noticed some people were already dancing. Others were milling around, chatting it up and drinking. I was somewhat surprised at the number of people that showed up, and I figured it was probably one of those deals where second-and third-hand invitations get passed around.

I wandered around, fraternizing with the guests I recognized. I never gave anybody my full attention as I always had one eye out in case I could spot Nneka. About an hour later I gave up hope and was just enjoying the company. I didn’t feel like dancing, so I mostly hung back and had a drink, yucking it up with whomever. Somebody was in the process of telling me a story about his roommate when I felt a set of hands wrap around my eyes from behind. “Guess who!”

I broke into a huge grin. I was a little buzzed already and my inhibitions and bashfulness were subdued. “I don’t know but she sure sounds cute!” She removed her hands and I turned around, then gave a good long bottom-to-top checkout of Nneka. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans, slightly fraying at the knees. They hugged her hips majestically. A simple tight, blue tee-shirt graced her top, which accented the curves of her breasts that barely fit inside.

It showed no cleavage but was a bit short on the bottom, so in conjunction with her low trouser, there was always some stomach showing. Leave it to Nneka to dress in completely plain clothes and still make it look hotter than something else intentionally sexy.

“Oh! Feeling playful tonight huh?” she said with an eyebrow cocked. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Sadly the conversation was cut off as she saw Esther, the hostess, off in the distance. She called out her name, lifting her arms up and signalling to her across the room, then walked over to hug her and say hello. I admired her ass as she walked away from me and got a little hard thinking about grabbing onto it when I went down on her weeks ago.

The guy that had previously been talking to me reminded me of his presence, of which I had completely forgotten. “Jesus, she’s hot!”

“Tell me about it,” I nodded.

Not wanting to be too pushy, and still retraining some dignity and resolve, I didn’t chase after Nneka. I tried to play it cool just watched her when I could. She talked with some people, had a drink, and ended up on the dance floor. Looking at her dance was a thing to behold. She was as graceful as a cat, moving her hips, her stomach, her arms, everything. I especially loved it when she would reach up high, which had the effect of pulling her shirt up even higher and revealing her entire perfect abdomen.

For the most part, she danced by herself. I chuckled as I saw some guys attempt to approach and dance with her. She would lead them on for a minute, acting interested, getting their hopes up, then just as quickly turn, slink away, and continue dancing on her own. Did she ever get tired of that, I wondered. I was pleased to see her dance with some other cute girls as well, and I fantasized if she would ever seduce a girl as she did me.

At some point, she made eye contact with me and beckoned me over seductively. I was reluctant because I didn’t want to be made a fool. She gestured again a minute later and I gave in. Joining her on the dance floor, I was startled to feel her move her body right up against mine, face to face, and so quickly. “Poor boy, you looked lonely!” I shrugged and enjoyed the sensations of her body brushing up and rubbing against mine.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” She drew out the world giiiirl as if playfully mocking me.

“She’s not here.”

“Aww that’s too bad,” she cooed.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t you think it’s more fun when she’s nearby?” she winked.

Up to that point I had my cock relatively under control, but now it sprang to life. She put her hands on my ass and pulled, grinding into me.

“Mmm, feels like you do!” she breathed.

The conversation dropped off and we danced for a while longer. Her back was to me now, her arms reached up above her head and hands wrapped around the back of mine, ass grazing against me. “You know,” she started back up, “you never answered my question…”

“Which was that?” I replied casually.

She spun around and stared me dead in the eye and whispered, “How often do you wish we weren’t even?”

God, she knew how to work me. I tried to play it cool, “Hmm, maybe every once in a while.”

“Aww,” she pouted, “Is that all?” She bit her lower lip and gave me a seductive look of disappointment.

Then, out of nowhere (or maybe from the alcohol), I heard myself say, “Why do we need to take turns? It’s possible to do it at the same time you know.”

Damn, did I just say that? I think she thought the same thing. Her eyes went wide and she had an open-mouthed smile. “Oh, you bad boy!”

“Like you’re so innocent” I snapped back, grinning.

“So… you like it naughty. Hey,” she moved her face to my ear and whispered very lightly, “there are some bedrooms upstairs…”

I closed my eyes and let those words soak in, then I gasped as I felt her hand run up my leg and squeeze my hard-on. The next few minutes were a blur. She led me off the dance floor, grabbed another drink, and guided me upstairs to a room near the back. A soft lamp was already on and she shut the door behind her. I turned and sat at the foot of the bed, watching her pose bewitchingly. She was sticking her chest out, showing off her round breasts straining behind her shirt, letting me get a good look.

“Hmm, you’ve gotten to see a lot of my body. But I never get to see yours. Why don’t you show me what Bisola gets to see?”

I quickly kicked off my shoes and socks and stood up. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it on the floor. “Ooh, not bad… But show me what I really want!”

I grinned and undid my belt; it landed near my shirt. Not wasting any time, I dropped my trousers and boxers off at once, and tossed them behind me, landing on a nightstand by the bed. I stood naked in front of her, my cock twitching with my heartbeat, hard as a rock.

She giggled and said, “Oh wow, not wasting any time, are we?” I simply returned her gaze with one of unbridled lust. She slowly pulled up her own shirt, swaying her hips a little as she did it, giving a little tease. I stepped forward, wanting to grab her and hurry her up. “Ah-ah,” she admonished, “you sit!” I reluctantly obeyed and sat again at the foot of the bed.
I grabbed the base of my hardness and gently stroked as I watched her completely remove her shirt.

“Oh god, you horny boy!” she squealed with delight. “Here’s something you haven’t seen yet…” and she then unclasped her bra and let it drop to the floor. Her breasts were amazing. I was surprised at how big and firm they were on her otherwise smaller frame. Yet they still looked perfect, not out of proportion or like a pornstar’s.

She grabbed them, one in each hand, and rubbed them against each other. “Bisola always gets mad at you when you look at my cleavage… but she’s not here now, is she?”

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Written by
Dr. Deolu Oniranu-Bubble


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