On his first day at the firm, Esan walked in with the joy and zeal of a new employee, eager to put his best into action. He had barely settled into the rhythm of introductions when he saw Ann. She saw him too. Recognition flared in her eyes, sharp and immediate. For a second, the room around them went silent, drowned in the weight of a memory only the two of them shared.
Oh God. Not here, not now, Esan thought. His stomach twisted.
But it only got worse when the HR personnel smiled and announced, “Meet Ann, she’ll be your unit head.”
Esan nearly lost his balance. Blood drained from his face. He forced himself to extend his hand, muttering, “Good to see you, Ann.”
Ann didn’t take it. She gave him one cold, cutting glance, turned, and walked away without a word. Esan watched her as she dashed off, her hip swaying, that glorious bubble ass he had once held in his hands wiggled as she stormed out of the office.
By the time two weeks had passed, the office felt less like a workplace and more like a battlefield. If there was such a thing as World War Three, Ann had declared it. She had already reported him four times to the manager, each report sharper than the last. Every day, she found a way to make his presence unbearable. Her disapproval was loud, her criticisms sharper than glass. Even when he executed his tasks with precision, she twisted them, finding flaws where none existed.
Soon, the entire office knew Ann despised Esan. She didn’t care who saw it. She wore her hatred openly, like perfume.
Whispers circled. “What did he do to her?” “Why does she hate him so much?” No one knew the truth. They could only guess.
As days passed, the pressure was becoming unbearable for Esan. Each day felt heavier than the last, and if there had been viable job opportunities waiting for him elsewhere, he would have turned in his resignation without a second thought. Ann had made it her mission to turn his working life into a nightmare. Still, deep down, Esan wasn’t looking for war. He wanted resolution, or at least a truce.
One afternoon, gathering what courage he could muster, he walked into Ann’s office and told her he wished to discuss something important with her. It was the first time he was meeting with her one on one since he resumed work at the firm. The moment their eyes met, Ann gave him this sharp, venomous look that if looks truly had the power to kill, Esan would have been struck down and buried on the spot.
Yet, after delivering that deadly glare, Ann composed herself, muttered curtly that she would summon him when she was free, and with a wave of her hand, she sent him out of her office.
Ann’s anger wasn’t just dislike, it was personal. Esan understood why Ann had recognised him the moment her eyes had locked on him the very first day he stepped into the firm. She had given him her best that night; she had done more than she should have. This was why she had been after his job ever since. The world was small, too small.
As he made his way back to his office that afternoon, he remembered his first encounter with Ann……
It was one of those nights that carried the scent of pepper soup and alcohol. Joe, an old friend, had returned to town, and Esan had gone to meet him at the hotel bar. They drank, laughed, their voices rising above the background hum of music and chatter.
But Esan noticed something strange. The barman kept approaching Joe, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Once, twice, and a third time, until finally, Joe grinned and turned to Esan. “He’s arranging a lady for me tonight. You want one too?”
The words hit Esan like a slap. He almost laughed at the absurdity. Ashawo? He had never crossed that line before. His relationships had always been with women he was dating, women he could claim, not strangers bought for a night.
But it had been four long months since Mercy, his girlfriend, had travelled north for a business course. Four months of cold nights and restless thoughts. The closest he had come to relief was Bene, the notorious “cheerful giver” of his street. She had teased him with promises to fuck him, flashing smiles that hinted it would soon be his turn to get between her legs. But all of a sudden, Bene vanished into religion, shaken by a brutal attack that had nearly ended her life. Overnight, she became a born-again Christian, leaving Esan with nothing but frustration and desire.
So when Joe’s question hung in the air, Esan surprised himself. “Yes,” he said, his voice steady.
Joe clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. He called the barman over again. “Make them two.”
The bar had thinned out by then, its earlier noise fading into a low hum of music and clinking glasses. Esan sat with Joe, trying to focus on the laughter and the warmth of alcohol in his belly as they caught up on old times. The barman returned, leading two ladies into the bar, the first one, a tall, slim lady, she had striking, smooth skin, long legs, curves that moved like liquid under her gown.
The second lady was everything Esan’s imagination craved. Thick, curvy in all the right places, her hips wide, her chest commanding attention, her figure wrapped in a silk dress that clung like a second skin. When she shifted in her chair, tugging at the hem of her gown, Esan caught a glimpse of her ass, and his pulse kicked hard against his ribs.
The ladies quickly placed their order of beer and cigarettes. The barman delivered their orders and retreated. For a moment, Esan’s chest tightened. He was debating which one was for him and which was for Joe.
Joe leaned casually against his chair. “Another room,” Joe told the barman.
But moments later, the barman returned, shaking his head. “Reception says there are no rooms left, sir.”
Joe cursed under his breath. “My guy you will have to take your package home.” Pointing at the thick lady.
Relief washed over Esan. He hadn’t even realised he’d been holding his breath. The slim lady wasn’t really his type. Slim women didn’t draw him in. He liked fullness, women whose presence filled a room before they even spoke.
Then, against his will, another thought crept in—Mercy. His girlfriend, far away in the north, was studying. A pang of guilt sliced through his drunken haze. God, wherever she is, I hope she’s not doing anything like this.
“Alright, I’m off,” Joe announced, pushing his chair back with a scrape. He gestured toward the slim woman. Then he turned to Esan, motioning him aside, to a corner of the bar. Joe’s grin widened. “You like the one the barman brought for you, right?”
Esan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes!” The joy in his voice betrayed him.
Joe chuckled. “I knew it; I sent the barman a text, I told him your spec, told him you like them thick.”
Esan laughed, shaking his head. “Bad guy!”
“Na my man you be,” Joe teased. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, counted out a few notes and pressed it into Esan’s palm. “I’ve already settled her fee and the bills for tonight, too. If you want more drinks, get it, tell the barman to add it to my tab, and I’ll clear it tomorrow.”
Esan looked down at the money. Seventeen thousand, he had counted it quietly along with Joe as he was counting it. At least it was enough to get him a guest house. Enough to avoid bringing her back to his compound, where the neighbours all knew Mercy—and knew how serious things were between them.
He clenched the cash, gratitude bubbling in his chest. “Joe, my guy, abeg tomorrow, we need to talk about that job at your father’s company.” He whispered into Joe’s ear.
Joe assured him that they would discuss further the following day. As soon as Joe disappeared into the night with his slim companion, Esan turned back to his own “package.” She was sipping her drink slowly, eyes on him now. A smile, faint but knowing, played at her lips.
Her skin glowed under the bar’s dim light—light-toned, smooth, untouched by blemish, her lips gleamed with gloss, the kind you could spot across a room, bold and unapologetic. She didn’t look like a woman forced into the trade. She looked… deliberate, expensive, like someone who knew her worth and named her price. Esan couldn’t help himself; his mind wandered. How much had Joe paid? How did this kind of woman even end up here?
She told him her name was Ann, her voice smooth and confident. “I’m still job hunting,” she said, sipping her beer. “It hasn’t been easy.”
Esan forced a knowing smile, careful not to reveal the truth that he, too, was job hunting, sending CVs into the void, waiting for phone calls that never came. Instead, he leaned back like a man with options.
“Don’t worry,” he said, with a false air of authority. “I’ll ask around. Speak to some people. Something will come up.”
She thanked him happily, a bright smile of hope crossing her beautiful face. Esan ordered another bottle for her, eager to keep the conversation alive, and they got talking until midnight.
When it was time to leave, the barman leaned close and gave Esan directions to a nearby guesthouse. “It’s cheaper, and you’ll find rooms this late.”
Esan pressed two crisp notes into his pocket—two thousand naira. “For getting me my spec,” he whispered with a grin. The barman thanked him with praise.
By the time they arrived at the guesthouse, Esan could barely think. He paid ten thousand for a room, grabbed condoms, beer, and fried meat from the reception, and they headed straight for the room.
Inside, Ann excused herself and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water running sharpened Esan’s anticipation. He gulped down the last of his beer, his eyes locked on the door. He stripped himself quickly, his movements hurried and deliberate, leaving only his boxers on. Esan folded his clothes neatly, placing them on the chair by the bed, and climbed the bed, stretching himself on the bed, his hands behind his head. His erection strained against the fabric of his boxers, his breath shallow.
After a while, the bathroom door opened, and Ann stepped out; the atmosphere shifted. A towel wrapped loosely around her body. Her hair was damp, clinging to her shoulders, and her skin glowed with a post-shower radiance. Ann walked toward the bed, her movements graceful. His gaze raked over her curves with unabashed admiration.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her towel slipping slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder and the swell of her breast. Esan’s breath caught, his eyes fixed on her, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Esan tugged at the towel, letting it fall to the bed “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.
Everything he had imagined beneath her gown was there, magnified. Her breasts were enormous, yet her stomach was surprisingly flat, her figure both lush and balanced in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Ann’s skin was a canvas of soft, golden brown, her full figure a testament to her beauty. Her breasts were ample, her nipples tight buds that pebbled under his gaze, and her hips curved generously, leading down to thick thighs that promised strength and softness.
If only he knew the trouble that came with all that beauty!
His hands moved instinctively, cupping her breasts, though they spilt over his palms. She shivered under his touch, and her head fell back as she leaned into his touch. Esan felt her fingers slide down, grasping him through his boxers. Hard and ready.
She chuckled softly. “Hmm…. You’ve been waiting.”
Esan groaned as she turned around, her body pressed back against him, her ass leaning against his bulge. He grabbed her from behind, his palms returning to her breasts, kneading, teasing her nipples until they hardened beneath his fingers.
Ann’s soft moans filled the room, a sound that both aroused and tormented him. In that moment, guilt stabbed at him; he remembered Mercy, his girl again…. But it was too late, Ann’s body moved against his, her warmth, her weight, her scent overwhelming every thought of restraint. He held her tighter, his hips straining against her.
Ann reached for his dick. His body was already on fire, he pulled down his boxers in one fast pull and released his throbbing fat dick. It was as hard as steel. She moved her legs apart for him, his hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her ass before slipping between her thighs. Ann gasped, her hips bucking slightly as his fingers found her wetness.
He was surprised she had allowed him touch her all over. He had heard some of his friends tell stories of how the hookers they carried for the night would never allow them touch their breasts, let alone touch their pussy. Maybe he was just lucky! He had won the heart of a whore. Her pussy was as hot as he had imagined, and her juices hot enough to substitute for warm tea. Esan continued to stroke her pussy with one hand while he squeezed her nipple with his other hand. The more he stroked her, the wetter she got, and her moans were getting louder.
After a while, Ann positioned herself so that she was lying with her chest while her massive ass struck out upwards, suspended in the air like a quiet reminder that the earth was hanging on nothing. Only this time the earth was two, as each of her perfectly round ass cheeks looked like something carved on a Sunday. He quickly got on top of her and dangled his dick between her huge ass cheeks, enjoying the softness and the warmth.
Her pussy was all puffed up, slick with juices and gaped open ever so slightly with her juices glistening in the room’s lamplight. Esan ran his hands over Ann’s round bottom, squeezing her ass cheeks until she let out a little squeal, and then he urged her to bend over further, and grabbed her hips, aligning himself perfectly behind her. It didn’t take him 5 seconds to wear the condom over his rock-hard penis.
As soon as Esan was done he positioned himself at her entrance and shoved his rod into her wet opening in one massive stroke, Ann yelled and held her breath for a moment, before letting it out slowly. The heat in there was more than he had imagined, hot like someone was cooking something in between her thighs. Even with the latex over his cock he still felt the effect of her heat over his dick.
If only she had told him about the extra charge, maybe they would have addressed it even before they started fucking.
Written by Tito
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