“No, Chizi! No!” Jumoke half-shouted, half-pleaded in her thick accent. “I need to work…not here…”
Our maid closed her bra in the back and fixed her shirt, not meeting my eyes, as she grabbed her cleaning bucket and hurried out.
I smiled after her slyly, knowing she was mine. It was just a matter of time.
I looked down at my raging hard-on, wet spots of pre-soaking through my trousers. I resolved not to jack off again until I fucked her. I wanted my first load into her hot little pussy to be huge. I wanted to fill her womb completely with my seed and fuck a baby into her our first time together.
After I showered and changed into my usual trouser and shirt, I played some Drake songs on the computer in my parent’s room. I didn’t feel like homework – I didn’t feel like doing shit except going after Jumoke. I felt smart, biding my time until tonight. I didn’t want to go further until then – it felt wrong like I might ruin it.
Let the pussy percolate, as my friends said.
After my parents got back, we had dinner. Jumoke prepared chicken, fried rice and orange juice. It was better than usual, though our maid didn’t look me in the eye when she served it, just quickly put the plates down in front of us and left. I just stared at her wryly, knowingly the whole time. If my parents were watching, they might have noticed me leering, but they weren’t.
“How was school?” my dad asked, reading his newspaper.
“A lot of stress,” I murmured between bites.
“Uh huh,” Dad said. “It’ll get better.”
“If you studied as hard as you played video games,” my mom frowned, “you might do better this year.”
She was referring to my C+/B- average last semester.
“And stop hanging out with that crowd, I don’t like them. Why don’t you do like your father asked and pick up an instrument? The sheer amount of opportunities you have should at least mean something to you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t like your tone,” Mom warned.
“Leave him be, Simbi,” my dad interjected. “He’s just adjusting.”
“He’s acting like a dullard,” my mom sighed. “Can’t you talk some sense into him? He’ll never get into a good university abroad if he keeps this up. It’s embarrassing.”
“He’ll be fine,” my dad said noncommittally like I wasn’t even there.
Could you believe this shit?
“Yeah,” I glared. “I’ll be fine.”
I pushed my plate away and excused myself, privy to my parents starting to argue again about how to raise me, then my mom yelling at Jumoke to clear my plate (“No, don’t throw it away, JU-MO-KEEH!”). I went into the sitting room to watch TV by myself, kicking angrily across the couch…
I watched cartoons and shit and cracked a smirk at the Batman animation airing. When I looked up, I saw Jumoke there setting a plate of rice on the end table for me with a fork. She was watching me quietly – I couldn’t read her expression. She quickly looked away when she saw I noticed her, padding off back towards the kitchen.
I didn’t know what it meant, really, and didn’t care as I ate some, and the night dragged on, mosquitoes swarming against the glass windows outside, geckos crawling over the ceiling. Eventually, my mom came in and told me to go and study if I wanted to keep getting my allowance, so I retreated up to my room with my novels, phone and Tupac. I watched the clock.
Time seemed to crawl with my anticipation. I wanted to wank, but I had to force myself not to. Adrenaline filled my veins as I tried to distract myself and make the hours go by quicker. It seemed like forever until my parents went to bed. I lay awake in my boxers, thinking about what would come next. I had only ever had sex once with a sex worker a few months back, right after my 18th birthday. More desperation than celebration. It was awkward as hell, and I didn’t know what I was doing.
Don’t worry. She made me use a condom.
This time, I sure as hell wouldn’t.
When it was 12 at night, I decided I had enough waiting. I crept downstairs, trying to minimize my noise as much as possible – I didn’t think my parents would hear us downstairs over their air conditioning. I was almost trembling with anticipation, my cock choked by my boxers as it strained to get free. I stole through the dark and into the kitchen to see Jumoke’s door closed.
I steadied myself and went up to try the handle.
It was locked.
I started to doubt myself right then and there. I tried the door again, and it was still locked. I felt unease gnaw at the pit of my stomach. I felt the familiar shame, the embarrassment at being rejected, and then a quiet, ugly rage. Who the fuck did she think she was after last night, after this afternoon?
I wanted to bang on the door, yell and scream and threaten to tell my parents about her. I paced in the dark kitchen with the cockroaches, trying to calm down, to wait and see if she would open the door, but she didn’t.
Maybe this was another sign. That I should just go back to my room and forget all about this shit. That this would just be a footnote in my fucked-up life, and I would move on. Jumoke would find another job, and we’d have another maid, and I would go to university and find some nice girl and become a dad.
But then I thought about Jumoke again, what I saw last night, and how badly I wanted her. How deeply in lust I was with her.
I wouldn’t take rejection. Not this time.
I don’t know what came over me as I went up to the door, my lips near the wood surface. I said the words like I meant it:
“Tomorrow you will wear makeup for me. Make yourself pretty. No bra.”
I went back to bed, angry but hoping. I would know in the morning if she was really receptive to my advances or not. I wasn’t ready to let this go.
The next morning I sat down to breakfast, ready for another god-awful day at international school. The rituals I hated continued.
“Hello, son,” my dad said between a sip of coffee.
“Good morning, sir,” I said flatly, looking surreptitiously for Jumoke. Fuck, it looked like she was hiding out in the kitchen again. I ate my food and went after our maid.
Jumoke was at the sink doing dishes again, but this time she was dressed differently. My eyes ran up her long, slender legs to her round, plump ass, accentuated in bum shorts. She wore her hair long this time, and it looked prettier than normal – Jumoke had spent some time making it look nice. She wore a faded tank top that was tight around her curves.
I felt that same excitement again, pulsing in my chest and in my groin. I walked over next to where she was standing to check her out. She looked over at me from the side, and I could see she had done what I asked.
Jumoke was wearing some black eyeliner that accentuated the sexiness of her almond-shaped eyes, a little dark shadow above. I traced the pout of her pillowy lips but didn’t see any lipstick – I realized she probably didn’t have much makeup and used all she had for me. I wasn’t complaining – it made her look even more appetizing, hot even, in her own way.
There was shame in her eyes but also quiet submission. I looked down to see a good amount of supple cleavage at her neckline, the vague outline of her nips pressing against her tank.
I smiled, feeling wolflike, as I leaned in. I wanted to touch her, to claim her, but I still didn’t dare do it then, not when one of my parents could walk in on us at any minute.
“Good girl,” I murmured near her ear, taking in her smell again.
Jumoke stiffened again, stopping her dishwashing for a moment before starting again. I watched her big nipples harden under her shirt at my nearness. My cock twitched as I smiled near her neck. Was she aroused by me?
“Please, Chizi, start to go…” Jumoke mumbled, “Go your school.”
I left, hurrying out past the dining area without saying anything to my parents. I didn’t want them to see my painfully obvious erection. I had to hide the thing with my bag until the bus came. The entire day I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen when I got home.
Would we finally fuck? What did it mean that Jumoke did what I asked? Was I wearing her down?
Our courtship, fucked-up as it was, made the day at least bearable.
When I finally got home, I dropped my bag in the corridor, kicked off my shoes and started looking for Jumoke. I found her, ironically enough, in my room, folding my clothes on the bed. She had tied her hair back into a ponytail again for work but was still wearing the same clothes and makeup as she was in the morning.
When our maid saw me, she immediately averted her eyes. Jumoke finished what she was doing – folded the shirt in her hands and laid it on the stack with the rest of them, then just sat down on my bed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. Submissively waiting for me to take advantage of her again in silence.
I stood in the doorway, heart pounding again. Ready. I don’t know what gave me my confidence – Jumoke wasn’t like a real girl. She was our maid. She was being obedient, maybe even receptive to me.
“Stand up,” I ordered. “Come here.”
Jumoke numbly did what I said, rising to her feet and padding over, looking away and over to the side. I don’t know if she was frightened or excited, but I could see her fat nipples poking lewdly against her shirt again, hard hand needy.
I stepped to her, gently putting my hands on her sides and turning her around so she was facing away from me. I caressed her tenderly but controllingly as I pressed my big, long, hard cock against her covered ass and pussy again, starting my familiar grind.
My hands went under Jumoke’s shirt, first over her flat, firm belly and shallow navel that I already loved, then up to her large, gorgeous breasts, first caressing soft undersides, then taking them in my hands.
They were warm and supple and mine as I worshipped them with my touch, kneading the flesh as I felt Jumoke’s nipples harden even further. My cock strained as I continued to grind and hump against my family’s maid. I rolled Jumoke’s large, perky nipples between my fingers, finally eliciting a quiet moan from her.
Her breathing was heavier now, and this time, I could feel for certain that she was pushing back against my hips – weakly, enjoying it.