“We close 10, 10:30. You can come and help us clear up if you’re still awake,” he said.
I didn’t agree or even respond; it was a date for me, and I was not going to miss it; I just walked away towards our back gate. When I looked back before pushing the gate open, I saw him casting furtive glances in my direction, and I smiled.
I knew this time would be different from my Baba Londoner dealings, but I also knew I would take whatever enjoyment I could get in whatever form it came.
When I got back into the house, the shawarma eaters were ready to leave. I snuck the extra shawarma into the folds of my wrapper and handed my mother the nylon filled with the remaining six.
Without a glance at me, she distributed it as the guests elected to take it with them.
My mother and stepfather saw them off, and I began to clean up what was left of the dishes in the kitchen. I didn’t want to wait for my mother to return and shout at me, so I needed to be proactive. It was all because I had a date.
By the time they returned, I was done with the dishes and all that was left was to mop the floor.
I knew they would proceed to have sex, so I wasn’t too worried about them catching me. It was their nighttime routine every time my stepfather was around.
As they retired to their bedroom, my mother called out,
“Apuna, make sure you clean everywhere well and take out the bin. When I wake up tomorrow, this house must be spotless!”
“Yes, mummy,” I answered.
I swept, mopped the floor, ate my shawarma, and then proceeded to take a thorough bath.
It was 10 PM by the time I emerged from the bathroom. I dried off my body and applied lotion that would make my skin glow.
For clothes, I didn’t bother with a bra or panties; I simply picked out a net tank top and a clean wrapper. I wanted to give the illusion of being ready for bed in case anyone saw me.
I knew my mother would never come out again tonight; she and my stepfather would be too busy fucking.
But I knew her detectives in front of the house would tell her I came out fully dressed to dispose of trash if I wore anything more than a wrapper.
I picked the trash and proceeded to step out of the apartment when I heard loud, sharp slaps coming from my mother’s room.
“Whose pussy is this! I can’t hear you… Call me daddy! Say, Daddy fuck me!”
I couldn’t believe the words from my stepfather’s mouth, or the fact that I could hear my mother screaming “Daddy!” every time one of those slaps landed.
He was obviously slapping her fat arse.
I didn’t have time to be angry; my own pleasure waited a few steps away if I was lucky. How dare she deprive me of the same kind of pleasure she enjoys, I thought.
I quickly stepped out and locked the door behind me. It took just a few seconds to get to the gate, throw out the trash and run to the backyard like a little girl.
At the back gate, I did the same thing I did earlier with the stone and stepped into the cold air.
In a few steps, I was in front of the stand where Demola, Dekunle and two other young guys were passing around a bottle of liquor, gisting and laughing. One of them was even smoking, though I didn’t know him.
“Good evening”, I said.
“Ha! Fine girl that likes shawarma,” Demola said, laughing.
The others all responded to my greeting as Dekunle said, “You mean the fine girl that was distracting us from work.”
They all burst into laughter while Demola stood up and ushered me into the kiosk that was actually a container.
Inside, it was even more spacious than it looked from the outside. There was a long cane chair with colourful foam puffs, a small wooden table, a couch, two benches, a small TV, two fans and a couple of light bulbs.
“So what is your name?” he asked as he cleared the items on the cane chair.
“Apunanwu, but my friends call me Apuna.”
“Oh! You’re Igbo,” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” I answered.
He smiled and winked at me, “Fine Igbo girl, with fine skin.”
When I didn’t say anything, he sat on the cane chair and pulled me into his lap. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” I responded. “I just came to say thank you for the shawarma. I’m going back home to sleep.”
“Really? And I thought you came so that I can give you a massage o. You looked stressed this evening when you came to buy shawarma,” he offered.
In my brain, I was wondering what he meant by massage. What I needed was to cum badly. Couldn’t he see how hard my nipples were through my sheer top? I was firing and ready to go.
Seeing how quiet I was, I guess he thought I wanted the massage, so he started to knead my back.
“Ha! Apuna, see how tense you are. Lie down on the chair so I can massage you properly.”
I scrambled off his lap and lay face down on the long cane chair, hoping he would do more than massage me.
I could hear him rummaging on the table, and I looked up as he picked up a small bottle of anointing oil.
I watched with interest as he poured a generous amount into his palm. He came closer to me and gently lifted my top with his big hands, then he poured the oil on the small of my back and started to rub it in.
I could hear the voices of his brother and friends outside, but I figured since we weren’t doing anything, there was no cause for alarm.
Demola proceeded to knead the oil into my back and my body began to relax. In a little while, he loosened my wrapper slightly to gain better access to the top of my arse. Gradually, his hands travelled lower and began to grab and cup my plump arse.
It was as if he were testing the waters, hoping he had full permission.
Of course he did… I was already far gone. At this point, I would fuck a stick if I had to, that was how hungry my pussy was.
But I didn’t have to worry, Demola’s very erotic massage was enough proof that he was down to fuck.
My thoughts were confirmed when he said in a husky voice, “Turn over, baby.”
I didn’t hesitate, I flipped like a switch, and I heard him chuckle lightly as he picked up the bottle of anointing oil.
The massage continued, and this time he started from my neck with just one hand. Slowly, he raised my sheer top, poured another generous helping of the oil onto my exposed chest.
I didn’t know when he dropped the bottle; all I knew was that his hands on my breasts felt divine.
My breath caught in my throat as I forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. It had been a few weeks since I had felt hands on my breasts.
One thing I must say is that Demola was skilled as a masseuse. After he massaged the oil into my breast and belly, his hands slowly travelled to my nipples to pay a little more attention to them.
I nearly went mad. He pulled, tweaked, stretched and squeezed both nipples endlessly. Moan after moan escaped from my lips.
When I looked down to see what he was doing to my nipples, I saw that they were thoroughly engorged. They looked huge!
Demola was so focused on the pleasurable torture he was inflicting on them that he didn’t notice my hand crawling to my pussy through the folds of my wrapper.
As my hands connected with my pussy lips, a fresh moan emanated from my lips along with a jerk that took his focus off my nipples. He noticed what I was doing, or trying to do to myself, and he laughed.
“You greedy little slut! You are fingering your pussy? Ah! Ashawo!”
I didn’t respond, but tried even harder to push a finger into my pussy.
To ensure I didn’t, he grabbed my hand away from my pussy and stood, pulling me with him. As I stood up, my wrapper came undone, and my glorious, well-trimmed pussy was on display.
He pulled me to a bench in the kiosk and made me sit astride it. He grabbed one of the poofs off the cane chair, placed it at the head of the bench and pushed my back into it. My pussy was even more exposed.
Aside my feet, which were on the floor, every other part of me was on full display.
I was unashamed and tried again to begin massaging my pussy, but Demola had other ideas. He sat at the end of the bench facing my pussy and began to smack it with just two fingers.
They were light taps, but because my pussy was so wet and puffy that it made a wet slushy sound.
“Apuna baby! See how wet you are… ordinary massage!”
“Please rub it, put your finger inside,” I begged.
Demola laughed as he continued tapping. “Really, only my finger?”
“Anything you want… anything. Ha! It’s sweet!” I answered.
He stuck one finger inside me and began to pump my pussy like a vulcaniser.
I was no longer worried about the voices or people outside anymore; my focus was on the party happening in my pussy.
I noticed Demola getting closer to my pussy as if he wanted to see exactly what he was doing to it. I didn’t mind because suddenly he put another finger in.
My groan was louder than all that came before, but I was in for an even bigger shocker.
Demola’s head was so close to my pussy that I wondered what he was looking at. Before I could ask, he plugged his lips to my pussy and sucked hard.
I came immediately.
I screamed as I came.
“Fuck! I’m cumming!”
He didn’t stop. He applied even more pressure like a suction machine.
After a few minutes, when I thought I could see stars, he unplugged his lips and started to tongue-fuck me.
He would lick me for a few seconds. then snake his long tongue into my pussy and thrust hard.
I thought I would go crazy. I had become incoherent, but I wanted to cum again from his delicious mouth.
It seemed he had the same idea because he inserted one more finger into my pussy and sucked hard again.
The combination pushed me into a second orgasm, and this time, I squirted like a bitch.
“Fuck youuuuuu!”
I screamed and squirted for about 20 seconds, and Demola lapped it up like a dog.
As I came down from my second cum high, I noticed that my legs were high in the air. I didn’t realise I had raised them up during the pussy eating session.
Another issue was that the voices outside were now silent, which meant they had likely heard all that transpired on the bench.
I was a little ashamed.
How would I walk past them to get home?
Demola was oblivious to my dilemma as he asked, “Apuna, baby. Hope you enjoyed my massage?”
I nodded shyly and stood from the bench.
I quickly gathered my wrapper from the floor and wrapped it around my chest.
The anointing oil had made it even more transparent and I just couldn’t bring myself to go out like that.
When I made myself as decent as possible, I turned to Demola, hoping to thank him with a blowjob, but he was stepping outside the kiosk. Without thinking, I followed after him.
His brothers and friends were in the middle of hailing him when I stepped outside.
I didn’t catch the rest of their words; all I heard was “headmaster!”
I tried to dodge around them and head home, hoping they would ignore me, but his brother Dekunle called out, “Fine girl, hope you’re happy with the ‘tongue-lashing’ headmaster gave you?”
They all laughed at the witty statement, including Demola.
I didn’t understand why they referred to him as headmaster, but I perfectly understood the tongue-lashing part of their teasing.
But those were complex thoughts I couldn’t handle at the moment; I was too exhausted from the day’s activities. I trudged home through the back gate and collapsed into my bed, where I dreamt of fucking the two brothers all night, while holding a shawarma each in both my hands.
Written by RiskySolar
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