Heart pounding, I crept into the kitchen to see for myself. The babe was so freaking fired! Holding my breath, I inched forward in the dim light to peer into her room. Even though I was naked, I was ready to grab a knife from the kitchen too if I had to – I don’t know what I was thinking.
The maid’s room was just that. A cramped little room. Servant’s quarters. Mostly made of tile, like a bathroom, it had a raised shelf for a bed and space for a dresser and an end table, but not much else.
There was a bathroom next to it that was even smaller, with a squat toilet and a tiny space for a shower that Jumoke used. Compared to the rest of the villa house, it was shit. Jumoke didn’t have air conditioning either, just an electric fan.
I thought it was unlivable, but then she was the help, and I was her rich employer’s kid. The door to Jumoke’s room was a little more than half open, so as I snuck around the side, I could see everything that was going on.
Jumoke was laying on her bed, back up against the far wall and her pillow, long naked legs spread, knees bent. She wasn’t wearing anything except a large old T-shirt. Her eyes were closed tight.
Her teeth bared in an almost animalistic way as she plunged two fingers into the wet insides of her pussy, fucking herself slowly as her hips rocked, her other hand squeezing and kneading a covered breast.
I could see her pussy glistening in the flickering light of the TV as Jumoke fingered herself, biting her bottom lip as she stifled another moan, the saintly picture of Jesus turned away on her nightstand.
Jumoke’s slit was shaved, leaving only a womanly triangle of black hair tufting above, slick and matted with her desire. Her painted toes curled into the pink floral print of the cheap bedding beneath her, ass shifting as she squirmed in pleasure. Jumoke’s skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, beaded on her forehead and rolling down a cheek as she knocked her head back and let out a little lusty squeal.
The maid’s hair was plastered to her forehead, the slender curve of her neck exposed as she started rocking her hips and gently arched her back.
I felt the blood pulse to my genitals as my big cock started to grow and harden almost painfully. I stood there in front of the doorway, watching silently. If Jumoke opened her eyes, she would see me there, and I would be busted, but I just didn’t care.
“Unnn…” Jumoke mewled softly as she withdrew her fingers from her sopping cunt, sticky with her desire. She rubbed the tips of her digits over the bud and hood of her swollen little clit, driving herself deeper into a sexual frenzy.
I could smell her now – Jumoke’s sweet, feminine musk, a heavy, heady aroma in the hot, humid air. This girl was like a bitch in heat.
My cock engorged to its full hardness, screaming for relief as I watched our family maid fuck herself in the dark. I felt excitement, growing lust and desire for the writhing, sexy female in front of me. Danger, too, and fear that I might get caught, but I couldn’t leave.
It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t thinking…but this was better than porn.
Jumoke’s hand crawled over her flat stomach to lift the hem of her shirt up and expose one ripe breast to the air. The heavy breasts bounced gently as it was freed. Her perfect, full teardrop breast was large and upturned, capped with a puffy, silver-dollar-sized light brown areola.
The nipple was fat and hard, begging to be sucked. Jumoke’s hand squeezed and caressed it in growing ecstasy as her cries grew louder and more frequent.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My cock was throbbing; Jumoke’s show was turning me on more than I had ever been in my teenage life. The extremely prominent, vulgar Y-shaped vein on the side of my penis stood out more than ever, the large, mushroom head of my cock angry and inflamed.
I gripped the base of my cock and started to stroke it slowly as I watched, not having an endgame of any kind.
Not really thinking. Living in the moment. Not knowing what I would do if she opened her eyes. Not caring.
Jumoke plunged her fingers back into her needy, steaming cunt and, as she went down to her knuckles and her whole slender body spasmed with pleasure, her eyes finally opened.
First, they were rolled back with her orgasm, then glazed. Then they shot wide with fear as she saw me standing in the doorway, then sparked recognition, then filled with fear again. Jumoke let out a little shriek as she pulled her fingers out of her pussy to wrench her shirt down.
My maid scrambled back and grabbed her bed sheet to cover herself up to her chest. I could see the terror in her eyes as she stared at me, mouth agape.
I don’t know why I did what I did. I was just so fucking horny that I didn’t think – I didn’t give a shit. I stopped stroking my cock and just held it at its base, letting her see it in all its glory. We stared at each other, neither knowing what to do.
I knew Jumoke was afraid for her job – but at the same time, even with that terror, I could see her dark eyes roaming over my body before they fixed on my big cock. It throbbed in my hand and dripped precum, standing strong and proud and absolutely turgid for her in the gloom.
I watched Jumoke as she stared at my huge dick.
I don’t know if it was in awe or fear or a lingering sexual haze, but in those long moments, I swear to god I saw her lick her lips. Her tongue just barely parted them, but I saw it. Our maid shifted uncomfortably under her sheets as something flickered in her eyes, but then the spell was broken as her face screwed up, and she came to her senses.
“Chizi, no!” Jumoke cried suddenly in her heavily accented English. She pushed forward from her bed to shut her door on me. I could hear it lock.
I stood there numbly for a moment before I turned and walked quickly back up to my room. I felt a thrill, strangeness knotting in my stomach. But mostly excitement and quickly returning lust.
I was conflicted. Jumoke was completely beneath me. She was our housekeeper, some dumb bitch that barely qualified as a person. She was like five years older than me.
But she was a desperately wanton lady. Jumoke had a body I found irresistibly sexy, one that was just built for fucking. I wanted it.
It was like a sign.
I couldn’t get sexy Jumoke out of my head after that. I jacked off three more times that night and came hard each time, thinking about that hot pussy. Fucking it.
I thought about Jumoke sucking my big dick with her cocksucking lips. I fantasized about licking her ripe breasts and crushing them, loving them in my hands. Running my fingers over her skin, kissing her mouth. Filling her lithe little body with my cum over and over.
I realized that I had found my sex mate. I was going to fuck Jumoke and make her my woman. I was going to breed her, and I was going to impregnate her many, many times. I was going to fuck her every day as her belly swelled with my children.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
As the sun came up, the power sputtered back on. My morning wood turned into a hardon that just wouldn’t go away, even in the shower. Every time I thought about Jumoke, it just went back to raging full-mast. I turned the shower to cold, pounding my fist into the wall.
Why hadn’t I fucked her last night? Why had I just stood there like a fucking moron? I should have just pushed in there and taken her, but I didn’t. I wasn’t ready, or I was scared, or…shit, I didn’t know what.
I was in a fog of lust for this girl that wouldn’t lift.
I calmed down a little after my cold shower and got into my school clothes. It was some ungodly hour, like 7 AM or something, and I knew the school bus would be pulling up in about 20 minutes. It was another humid-as-hell season in Port Harcourt, and it was back to school, the second week in.
It was my senior year, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. I got into my uniform black khakis and school shirt, along with a pair of sneakers. I put my headset over my ears and trudged down the stairs to breakfast with Tupac in my skull. As I took each step, my heart was thumping – would Jumoke be there? Had she told my parents about last night? Or was she scared shitless that I would tell them what she had done?
I walked into the dining area to see my parents at the table. My dad was a 50-something balding businessman, and my mom was a trailing spouse; neither of them was around very much. My dad chased Nigerian oil money, and my mom was shopping all day with her friends, ‘volunteering’ and whatever the fuck else rich women do.
Dad was in his suit reading the Punch newspaper while my mom was sitting there listlessly in Chanel with a copy of a fashion magazine, each oblivious to the other’s presence.
Well, Jumoke hadn’t run away. The table was set with orange juice, bread, and fried eggs. I sat down at my place and put my headphones down around my neck to dig in, all the while glancing up for any sign of Jumoke.
“Good morning my boy,” my dad said without looking up. This pattern had been repeated a million times. End communication. My mom didn’t even acknowledge me.
Well, the situation is normal. Obviously, Jumoke hadn’t said anything.
I kept waiting for our maid to show up but she didn’t; she was probably hiding in the kitchen. I wolfed down the rest of my food and got up to make like I was going to get something from the fridge. I couldn’t smell the scent of her pussy anymore as I entered the kitchen – the door to her room was closed and the air-con was whirring overhead.
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