April 16, 2024

Crazy Lenny: The Personal Training of Maid Jummy [Episode 22] (18+)


Home » Crazy Lenny: The Personal Training of Maid Jummy [Episode 22] (18+)

Crazy Lenny: The Personal Training of Maid Jummy [Episode 22] (18+)

Jumoke was lost in pleasure as I fucked her into the bed, voice hoarse, arms giving out so that her ass was raised further to give me even deeper access. I wedged up against the entrance to her busy, burgeoning womb with every thrust, the depth and sensation of her pregnancy was absolute paradise. 

My maid was gasping, cheek pressed hard into her pillow, her hand gripping my wrist as I thrust into her. I lost count of how many climaxes I gave her around my huge dick. A sheen of sweat began to bead on her sexy back and neck as she rocked back and forth. After a particularly big cum, she squeezed my arm and I slowed down.

“Da-ddyy…” Jumoke whimpered between grunts as I continued to thrust into her. She looked back at me pleadingly, wild locks of black hair covering one eye. “Un un un un…I wan see…un…you face. Fuck me unn…hnnnnngh…like that…”

I nodded, not yet close to my second release. I withdrew with a messy sound and Jumoke squirmed onto her back, reduced to a happy, well-fucked mess. 

Her chest worked in time with her panting breath, swollen breasts and belly all slick with exertion. I was drenched too, but the heat and sweat just made the sex all the more filthy and enjoyable.

Jumoke spread her legs with a contented, languid smile, placing her hands on her protruding belly. “Be care-ful you no press,” she warned lovingly before she started to stroke her little dome with anticipation.

I went between her legs and entered her with a slow push that made her arch her back, rounded stomach brushing firm and warm against my abs as I loomed over her. My teenage body was significantly larger than hers at 6’1, and our pregnant housemaid relished in it. 

I supported myself with hands on either side of her shoulders and began thrusting into her again, but this time more slowly. Looking into her eyes, I could tell Jumoke wanted to make love now. Her long, shapely tan legs wrapped around my ass as I kept up a gentle rhythm, her breasts and belly swaying with every thrust.

“You’re so beautiful,” I panted down at her. “So beautiful.”

Jumoke put her hands on my chest, then up my shoulders to my neck to pull me down into a series of deep, loving kisses. Our mouths shared wordless, obsessive affection before I travelled down to kiss her jaw, then her throat, collarbone and the tops of her fat breasts. I tasted her sweat and hot, saccharine flesh as I sucked on one of her breasts, fucking her slow but deep.

“When are you gonna have milk?” I murmured as I kissed her cleavage and went to the other nipple. Jumoke ran her fingers through my hair adoringly as she looked up at me with a coy little smile.

“Co-ming,” she purred in her thick accent.

I drew back upright, my hands possessively resting on Jumoke’s pregnant bump, holding it on either side as I tenderly pumped in and out of her hairy pussy. 

While I wasn’t fighting to satisfy myself anymore, there was something wonderful about making love to Jumoke like this. She was cooing up and me with quiet moans of delight as she played with her breasts or held her arms linked above her head.

“You so good me, Carl Daddy…Me love you so much, you real man, always care me, care we babies…cum in me…cum in my pussy, Daddeee…cummmm…give you seed…”

The feeling of my secret wife’s tight, wet pussy coupled with the sight of her sweaty, petite body writhing beneath me, smiling open-mouthed, looking up with those loving brown eyes, urging me to seed her — I felt my climax surge up from my balls and into my big cock, stretching her out even more as I expanded inside her cunt.

Eyes closed, Jumoke arched her back with a joyful hiss through her teeth and pulled me in closer with her locked legs, digging her heels into my rear. 

I let out a strangled cry as I flooded her pussy with my cum, pulsing out my love and lust inside her thoroughly impregnated body. Her cunt clamped down hard, walls frantically milking around me to gulp my cum up into her. Her loud, squealing moan filled the dark little room.

Soon we were panting next to each other on our backs, my cum leaking liberally from her folds while I held her close, my big spent dick slung over my thigh. It was hard to feel where I ended and she began with the hot slickness of naked skin on skin, her leg draped over my thigh. 

Jumoke traced my tightly muscled chest, just watching me with that affectionate, fierce devotion that came natural to her. One of the best feelings ever was to share the tender afterglow with her.

I luxuriated in our closeness and the intimate connection I felt with the mother of my children. I hated hiding our relationship, no matter how necessary it was. 

Part of me wished we could just run away to her village or something and escape the craziness of our lives. I still held on to the promise of taking her to Lagos, but her English was still so bad. 

Would she even understand basic shit there? I would have to urbanize the hell out of her sexy little ass for it to work.

Our housemaid’s lips curled into a cupid’s bow as one of her favourite love songs came on the TV as we lay together.

‘.Wherever I go

Wherever you are

Baby baby you’re never far away

You’re always on my mind

Baby baby you’re never far away

You’re always on my mind’

“Mmm…so niiiiice,” Jumoke trilled contentedly, kissing my shoulder. “You best lover, fuck machine.” She considered for a moment, then kissed my skin again. “You wan me shave down there?” 

Obviously still a little self conscious.

“Nah, just like, trim it or something,” I grinned over at her, stroking her lithe, sweaty back. “It’s really sexy.”

“Okay,” she said with a little purse of her lips. “I go do am.”

She rested her head in the crook of my neck, kissing my jawline. “I love to feel you inside me, you cum and baby in me always.” Jumoke entwined her fingers with mine and guided them to rest over the small swell of her belly. “Two baby…” she murmured with an enthused breath.

“I know you want more baby so I am eating food every day for you,” she giggled.

“Two bananas!” Jumoke laughed at my blank expression. “Mm, now big blessing for we from God.” My little maid turned her head up to press her lips against mine in a lingering kiss before resting against my shoulder again.

“You think it’s boys or girls?” I asked, kissing her perspiring forehead.

“Girl and boy!” Jumoke declared proudly, maternal instinct clearly leaving no room for any alternative.

“Haha, oh yeah? Hey, I’ll go with you to the clinic when we’re on holiday,” I said, eager to see the offspring I’d filled her womb with.

That seemed to make Jumoke happy. She smiled and hummed contentedly, free hand moving to caress my cheek. I touched her hand with mine.

“You really okay? I asked again. “About what happened today? You want me to stay?”

“I am okay, rea-lee,” Jumoke took my hand and pressed her lips to it. “When I wit you, I okay.” She leaned up to kiss me once, then again. “You go back you room, sleep. I take shower. Need to clean the office so Sir and Madaam no see what we do.”

My lips met hers, then brushed her belly. I grabbed my clothes and started putting them on.

“Tomorrow I make you favorite breakfast fried egg with plantain, okay?” Jumoke called with a soft smile from where she was curled up on her bed.

Couldn’t argue with that.


Over the next few days, the tension between my parents just got worse. Every family mealtime was like a marital cold war or something. In their sporadic interactions, Mother was even more callous towards Jumoke than before; always regarding her with suspicion. She wasn’t even on speaking terms with my dad out in the open.

Every night, the same fucking shit, them fighting and screaming at each other. Years of stagnation and keeping up appearances came to a head with my mother’s drug-addled paranoia and culminated in what felt like the beginning of divorce.

Before the break, my father was sleeping in the guest bedroom. He was drinking a lot more too. It was rare those days that I didn’t see Dad with a big green bottle of Star beer nearby. He usually went through three at dinner and a few more afterwards. When I asked him what was going on, he just told me that they were going through a rough patch, like all marriages. It was normal, and everything would be fine after they went on holiday and had some space. 

Mother tried to confide in me, pulling me aside with wild delusions that I constantly had to dissuade. Like my father might have had an affair with his assistant when we were in South Africa last year, and who knew what went on at the massage parlours he visited with his colleagues. And of course, Jumoke. Had I seen anything, heard anything?

She was watching my father like a hawk, whatever that meant. Probably checking in on him in the spare bedroom like a psycho killer every night even though the domestic helper and I were fucking like animals downstairs.

When I refused to validate her fears, I was a useless, stupid boy, but she still kept coming back to me as her only ally in the house. Defusing Mother and talking her off a cliff multiple times a day was exhausting and unbelievably stressful.

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Written by
Dr. Deolu Oniranu-Bubble

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