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He smiled, sweat was dripping from his face onto her hips, and he started to slap her ass gently, left and right, then again and again as she squealed with lust as his cock pistoned in and out of her well-used cunt. Causing the slut to gasp and moan with delight.
The doggy-style rhythm continued; she was now meeting his thrusts, and her ass slapped loudly against his belly and groin each time they met. Esan’s breath quickened, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself in the moment.
The club’s noise faded further into the background, leaving only the sound of their bodies colliding and the harsh rhythm of their breaths. It was a raw, primal scene—two strangers connected by nothing more than physical need, their emotions buried beneath the surface.
Minutes later, he exploded in the condom and collapsed against her back, sweat dripping down his temple. The condom clung to him, warm and sticky. He pulled out slowly, adjusting his trousers while she tugged her gown down, as calm as if nothing had happened. No words passed between them.
She slid her panties back into place, pocketed her fee, and nodded once before stepping out into the hallway. Esan followed, still buzzing with release, his head light from both alcohol and sex.
At the entrance of the passage, he nearly collided with James, who was grinning like a devil, one arm around a giggling woman in a sequined dress.
“Ah, my guy!” James slapped his shoulder. “You don clear road for me!”
Esan chuckled weakly, shaking his hand. James vanished into the same shadowed corner Esan had just left.
Back on the dance floor, the music inside the club was relentless—bass pounding so hard it shook the walls, lights flashing like lightning across the smoky air. Esan melted into the music once more. Sweat clung to his shirt, his body buzzing with rum and adrenaline.
Another woman pressed her body against his, her hips rolling, her hair brushing his jaw line. A thick-bodied beauty with a sly smile and shorts so tiny they barely covered anything. His cock pressed stiffly against his trousers again.
He reached into his pocket and counted. Not much left, but enough, enough to scratch the itch that still gnawed at him.
He grabbed her by the wrist and led her toward the back; he guided her through the crowd, their bodies brushing against one another in a dance of unspoken power dynamics. Down to the staircase corner he already knew too well.
As they turned the corner, the scene was the same as before: a couple locked in raw, public rhythm. The girl had her palms pressed flat against the table, back arched, the man ramming her from behind without shame, just as he had done with the first lady. Their moans cut right through the music, it wasn’t until he looked at the male figure intently that he recognized his colleague James.
Esan and his new partner walked past like it was nothing, like they were just another shadow in the underworld of the night. The couch was empty now, the upholstery was torn, the cushions stained, but neither of them seemed to notice.
Esan sat down, his presence commanding even in repose, the girl chewing gum, smacking her lips. She held out her hand without ceremony.
“Pay me first.”
Esan peeled off three thousand naira and pressed it into her palm
She counted quickly under the flicker of the dim bulb. Her brows pinched together. “Three? No, no. That’s too small.”
“That’s all I’ve got,” Esan said flatly, his eyes already dark with hunger.
For a moment, she stared at him like she might walk away. Then she shrugged. “Fine. But no extras.”
She slid her tiny shorts down, pooling at her feet, and then she kicked it off quickly. From her bra strap, she fished out a condom, slapped it into his hand. Esan tore it open with his teeth and rolled it down over his stiff length.
He quickly adjusted his position, his heart thudded against his ribs.
Her skin gleamed with sweat, and her thighs brushed against his as she climbed onto his laps and inserted his manhood inside her, her wet heat swallowing him whole as she straddled him without hesitation, her weight settling onto him.
“Ahh!” she gasped, sharp and high-pitched, her body freezing for a moment as his cock split her open and filled her. “Your penis big o” she grunted
She didn’t move. She just sat there, snug and tight, her nails digging lightly into his shoulders.
“Oya fuck na,” she whispered, gum still sweet on her breath.
And so he did. Esan started to thrust upward, hard and steady, driving into her from below while she clung to him, moaning with each stroke. He tried to reach for her breasts, but she slapped his hands away, eyes flashing.
“For only three thousand, you want to touch breasts too? Abeg, respect yourself.”
Esan grunted, embarrassed but too far gone to stop. He grabbed her waist instead, lifting her slightly with each upward pump, his thighs burning as he hammered her from beneath.
Her expression remained blank, her eyes distant, just like the first girl had done too. But Esan didn’t seem to mind, he knew with time she would play along. He took control from below, his hands gripping her thighs as he thrust upward with unwavering determination.
Esan’s grip tightened, his breath warm against her skin, and he sped up his thrusting. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips, a sound that spoke of release and of surrender.
In that moment, the raw, unfiltered connection between them was undeniable. soon she began to move, her impassive facade cracked she was soaking wet and she began to rock back and forth grinding her pussy on his dick.
As their rhythm intensified, a quiet understanding passed between them—a final, unspoken acknowledgment of their shared moment. Esan’s grip on her thighs loosened, but he was still thrusting fast into her from under.
His hands moved to her waist as he pulled her closer. Their breaths synced, their hearts beating in unison. She rested her forehead against his, her eyes closing as if to shut out the chaos of her life. Esan’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear.
Suddenly she started to pump up and down on his cock faster and faster. Her tits bounced like crazy as her pace quickened.
Esan was completely surprised and overwhelmed. She didn’t object when he grabbed her breasts and fondled them, squeezing them tight as she continued to bounce on him.
She moaned loudly as she bounced up and down, her ass slapping down on his thighs with each forceful thrust. Her long braids dangled over her shoulders.
She continued bouncing as Esan held her ass firm and gripped with all his might. She screamed as her orgasm captivated her sweat soaked body, whimpering as Esan forced her to keep up the frantic pace.
The couch squeaked, the bass rattled the walls, her moans rising louder, sharp, until at last he exploded inside the condom, his head rolling back, sweat dripping from his temples. Both of them panting heavily.
She placed her hands on his chest and moved her hips in an erotic manner causing him to grunt in approval.
This time, their movements were slower, more deliberate. The urgency of their earlier encounter had faded, replaced by a quiet intensity. She moved with him, her body responding to his rhythm, but her face remained a mask of indifference.
Esan’s hands roamed over her, his touch possessive yet tender in its own rough way. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a low growl.
She didn’t respond, but her body tightened around him, her movements becoming more urgent.
Esan helped her stand, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary. She slid off him quickly and stepped away, her movements graceful despite the circumstances, and without a word, no warmth, no afterglow—just business. Shorts back on, she muttered something under her breath and hurried out, disappearing into the pulsing lights of the club.
Esan stayed slumped there, his chest heaving. His body was drained. Alcohol, sex, and exhaustion pulling him down all at once. The music still roared, but in his ears it was a dull, echoing throb. For the first time in months, he felt relieved.
Back in the office, Esan’s budding relationship with Joyce made his situation worse; the more he got closer to Joyce the more relentless Ann’s hostility became. It was as though she found new fuel for her fire each time she saw him seeking peace or happiness.
On the other hand Joyce took her agenda to another level. She intensified with her display of affection towards Esan, and she even started sending pictures of herself to him.
Then, one evening, the tone shifted. The photo arrived unannounced: a picture of her body wrapped in dark satin lingerie, the camera tilted just enough to hint rather than reveal.
What do you think? She texted. Rate the outfit.
Esan stared at the screen for a long time, the glow of it burning in his head. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the game she was playing. And yet, his chest tightened, heat rising as if the air itself had thickened.
The next night, another picture came. This time more daring, her lacey lingerie cut higher, showing the soft arc of her hip. She stood before a mirror, her phone lifted with casual confidence, as though she knew exactly the effect it would have on him.
Esan groaned into the silence of his apartment, his hand dragging down his face. “God… this woman.”
He told himself to delete it, to ignore her. But his body betrayed him. Those wide hips, that generous curve of her chest, the smooth sheen of her thighs, it was too much. Not as thick and pronounced as Ann, perhaps, but Joyce had her own dangerous allure, a kind of brazen heat Ann never displayed.
Another night, the picture was of her in a red G-string and bra, her skin gleaming under a warm light. He lingered on the sight of her thighs pressed together, her waist cinched like an invitation.
Desire knifed through him so hard he found himself giving in, hand working furiously as he imagined the weight of her body beneath him, the sounds she might make.
Afterward, guilt crept in like a shadow, a married woman, another man’s wife….. Mother of two. But the fire was already lit.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when the line finally broke. They had just wrapped a staff meeting at the manager’s office. Esan was halfway down the corridor when his phone buzzed again.
He unlocked it and froze. A video!
Joyce filled the frame, the neckline of her blouse pulled down to bare her breasts. She pressed them together with both hands, smiling in a way that was more daring than playful. Her voice, soft and teasing, whispered through the tiny speaker: “For your eyes only.”
Esan’s breath caught. His pulse roared in his ears. He replayed the clip, noticing the small details—the office blinds behind her, the same blouse she had worn just minutes ago in the meeting. She had filmed it right there, in her office.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his body tightening instantly, straining against the fabric of his trousers. He stood in the hallway, caught between two doors: his office ahead and hers just behind.
The phone chimed again. another message came in
Do you like it?
He swallowed, his thumb hovering. Then, reckless, he typed back: Wow. I like this.
Her reply came like lightning. Come get me. I’m waiting.
His decision was made in an instant. He spun on his heel, heat rising in his veins, his steps urgent but measured, each one echoing down the corridor.
Her office door loomed. He didn’t knock. He pushed it open in one swift motion—and froze.
Joyce was already there, standing by the door as though she had been listening for him. Her perfume hit him first, warm and floral, then the sight of her—cheeks flushed, blouse slightly undone, eyes glittering with mischief.
She paused, her gaze locking with his, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other. The air between them crackled with unspoken desire, the tension of the day coalescing into something raw and urgent.
She smiled, slow and deliberate. “Took you long enough.”
Joyce wasted no time after all she had been thinking about this moment all day, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. She closed the door and pulled him close.
The weight of their urgency dissolved into raw, unbridled desire. Esan’s hands were already on her, his grip frantic, as if he feared she might vanish if he let her go. Esan kissed her hungrily, weeks of torment pouring into the moment.
Their hands roamed, urgency fueling every touch. With a swift, almost violent motion, he tore her top off, the fabric ripping at the seams, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. He knew she had her suit and she would wear it over the torn blouse.
His fingers moved around her tender skin and she trembled recklessly, he cupped her left breasts, and she let out her usual moan of pleasure and approval, and she pushed back harder into him.
Joyce gasped, her nipples hardening instantly under his hungry stare. He didn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees and burying his face between her breasts, his lips and tongue devouring her flesh as if he were starving for her.
His hands slid down her waist, slipping under her skirt, and without preamble, his fingers slid her panties aside and plunged into her wetness, eliciting a sharp moan from her lips.
Written by Tito
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