Jumoke walked in!
She was almost as thick as her sister, but she looked far sexier than Aduke. Same massive breasts, same fat, rounded ass, but younger, probably early twenties, with fresher, brighter skin.
Her eyes darted from me (belt half-buckled, shirt dishevelled) to Aduke (flushed, sweaty, wrapper poorly tied, clearly freshly fucked). The realisation hit her instantly. She wasn’t a child. She knew.
Aduke tried to act normal, adjusting her hair with shaky hands. “This is the land inspector from the government,” she said quickly, gesturing at me. “This is my younger sister, Jumoke.”
Even her sudden English sounded forced. Maybe because they normally spoke only Yoruba. I forced a weak wave. “Welcome… I mean, nice to meet you.”
Jumoke murmured something polite, eyes narrowed with clear disapproval, then turned and left the room. The moment she disappeared, I let out a long, shaky breath. My heart was still racing like a trapped animal.
I gestured urgently to Aduke that I needed to go. She nodded, signalling back that we would continue later. I slipped out of the house quickly, legs unsteady, the scent of her sweat and sex still clinging stubbornly to my skin, my cock aching for release that never came.
Jesus Christ, that was too close. The words echoed in my head like a warning bell as I walked away from Aduke’s house. My body still hummed from the wild session with Aduke. My skin prickled with the fear of Jumoke still watching me from somewhere close.
My shirt was still slightly rumpled, my zipper not fully up, the taste of her nipple still lingered on my tongue, a married woman’s juices probably still drying on me. One wrong move and this village would bury me, but then, the danger was intoxicating…
At least now I know my major threat to this operation. Aduke! That woman was pure fire and trouble wrapped in thick, irresistible flesh. If I wanted to milk this village and escape with the money from the Amili project, I would have to cut her off.
I was nearly at the guesthouse gate, lost in these thoughts. The paranoia from the interrupted sex session was still raw when an urgent voice rang out behind me.
“Inspector!”
I froze, heart slamming against my ribs. I turned slowly. It was Chief Gbenro, one of the elders I had met with the Baale earlier that morning. The old man hurried toward me, agbada swaying.
He caught up, breathing a little heavily, and sighed deeply. “I came to look for you here earlier,” he whispered.
Forcing my face into a calm mask. I said, “Sorry, Chief. I was… talking with someone nearby about the news of the thief attack,” I lied smoothly, hoping my voice didn’t betray the lingering heat in my blood.
“My own nephew was the one injured last night,” he said, voice thick with worry. He muttered a silent prayer, eyes briefly closed. “But God is good. He is recovering.” Then his entire demeanour shifted.
He glanced around suspiciously, scanning the path and nearby compounds like a man about to commit treason. Without another word, he pulled me into the narrow shadow beside the guesthouse wall—barely hidden from view.
Chief Gbenro reached beneath his flowing agbada. After a brief struggle, he produced a fat black nylon bag.
It looked heavy, bulging with promise. I wondered how he had walked comfortably with that kind of weight hidden against his body. “Here is 400,000,” he said, eyes pleading, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know it is small, but please accept this token. Enlist my land in the project. I understand you must favour the Baale’s family first; that is tradition. But please… include mine too. I hear the project needs plenty of land.”
My eyes widened despite my best efforts to conceal my surprise. Four hundred thousand naira. Just like that. The bag called to the greedy part of me like a siren song. My pulse thundered in my ears.
The thrill of the bribe mixed dangerously with the adrenaline still coursing through me from Aduke’s bedroom. What if this is a setup? The thought sliced through the greed.
What if the Baale is testing me? I stepped back slightly, raising my hands.
“Chief, I appreciate the gesture, but I must do my job with integrity. Any money belongs to my boss, not me. I cannot accept—”
He nodded but refused to take the bag back. “Please, my brother. It is just a small gift. For your trouble. Take it.”
After several tense exchanges, I finally took the bag, its weight solid and damning in my hand. “Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Write your full name and the exact location of your land. Send it to me before the end of the day.”
Chief Gbenro’s face flooded with relief. “I will do more, please. God bless you, Inspector.” He slipped away quickly, disappearing around the corner like a shadow.
First bribe was raw, forbidden sex. Now four hundred thousand naira. Just like that. A dangerous smile crept across my face as I walked back toward the guesthouse, the heavy black nylon bag carefully tucked under my arm, hidden beneath my shirt.
The weight of the cash pressed against my ribs like a promise and a threat at the same time. Amili village is about to become my personal oil well. But I had to be careful. One slip and this golden goose would turn into a death trap.
As I approached the guesthouse, I spotted him, the receptionist. The same slight, unassuming boy I had seen the previous night with a cutlass and suspicious sack. Now he was quietly mopping the passage, humming softly, the picture of innocence.
No one would ever suspect the terror he unleashed under moonlight. “Morning, sir,” he greeted respectfully, eyes downcast.
“Morning,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral, as if I knew nothing. “Any light breakfast I can get around here?”
He nodded. “You fit try Iya Bode’s moimoi or Sadiat’s akara and bread.”
I paused for a while, thinking of which to go for, until I finally settled for the akara and bread. “Get me the akara and bread,” I said, handing him some cash from my pocket.
The moment he left, I moved like a shadow. This was my chance. I slipped toward the back of the guesthouse, heart pounding, the same area where I had seen him sneaking earlier.
The air smelled of rust, damp leaves, and old rubbish. I searched, behind crates, under tarpaulins, until my hand brushed against something. There it was. The sack!
I opened it with trembling fingers. Inside lay a wickedly sharp machete, a crude black mask, gloves, and other dark tools of the night.
My blood ran cold. Confirmed. This small boy was the village terror. I replaced everything exactly as I found it, pulse roaring in my ears, then hurried back to my room, locking the door behind me.
Safe inside, I pulled out the money and spilled it onto the bed. Four thick bundles of crisp five-hundred-naira notes. Four hundred thousand naira. I ran my fingers over them, the paper whispering promises of escape.
This was easier than Yahoo. Far easier. The Baale had promised to send something. I smiled again. By midnight, I’ll be gone, far richer than I ever dreamed.
But first, I needed real numbers. How much was the government actually paying for this land? People didn’t surrender ancestral inheritance for peanuts.
The compensation had to be massive. I remembered the man on the bus yesterday muttering that the real inspector was expected in town anytime now. Time was bleeding away. I had to squeeze this village and vanish before the real one arrived.
The receptionist returned with the meal. The aroma of hot akara and fresh bread filled the room.
Famished from the energetic night and morning with Aduke, I pounced on it like a starved lion, tearing the bread open, dipping it into the spicy akara, eating with desperate speed.
“Damn you, Aduke,” I muttered between mouthfuls, cursing her for draining my strength. I was barely halfway through when a sharp knock echoed at the door.
I quickly gathered the bundles, stuffed them back into the nylon bag, and shoved it deep under the bed. Wiping my hands, I went to open the door.
Standing there in the doorway was the Chief’s fourth wife—the striking woman from the bus, the one I’d seen the previous night. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. She looked even more breathtaking up close.
Her full red lips were plump and inviting, eyes sharp and knowing, her skin glowing like polished mahogany. full figure wrapped in a rich flowing abada gown, swaying and concealing her body while still hinting at the dangerous curves beneath.
She carried a sizeable food flask, bottled water, and another nylon bag. My pulse spiked again. My blood pumped harder than the village drums at a festival.
Without waiting for an invitation, she walked past me into the room like she owned it. She set the items on the plastic table beside my half-eaten akara and sat down.
Then she extended the nylon bag toward me. “Baale said you should have this,” she said casually. “One point three million naira. One million for your boss… and three hundred thousand for you.”
My heart stopped. Haaaa! Father Lord, I will do jail o! The numbers rang in my skull like church bells. I went through the usual ritual, shaking my head, protesting integrity, but her hand never wavered.
Slowly, almost reverently, I took the bag. In my head, I was screaming: 1.7 million naira in less than two hours. The fake “Boss” story was working like black magic. Now I knew if I was ever caught, I would make local news headlines.
I thanked her and promised to see the Baale later. She told me all the details; his full name and land location were already written on a paper inside the bag. Then she asked if she could use the bathroom. I showed her the way, relieved I had cleaned it earlier.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I rushed to shove the new bag deep under the bed with the first one, praying the rats wouldn’t discover my fortune.
When she stepped out, I turned—and froze! She was completely naked. The abada gown lay discarded behind her.
She stood like a goddess sculpted from pure sin; my eyes took in her full voluptuous figure, heavy breasts with dark nipples tight and rosy, a narrow waist flaring into wide, fertile hips, and a perfectly smooth, clean-shaven pussy already glistening with arousal.
Her skin looked like fresh cream under glass. I shook my head weakly, trying to resist, but my feet refused to move. She crossed the room in a few fluid steps and stood close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body; her warm breath mingled with mine.
Her scent, a mix of expensive oil and something distinctly feminine, wrapped around me like a blanket. I swallowed hard, my hands freezing.
She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine “This is what you wanted since yesterday, right?” she whispered, stepping closer, eyes searching mine with raw hunger.
I didn’t answer. Her body pressed against mine, and I could feel the softness of her breasts against my chest. My heart pounded in my ears, and my breath quickened as her stiff nipples brushed my chest. I felt a jolt of electricity run through me.
“You can have me now,” she said. She grabbed my shirt collar with both hands and pulled my mouth down to hers.
“I… uh…” I stammered, my voice cracking slightly. “Ma…” My voice barely above a whisper.
But she silenced me with a finger to my lips, her eyes burning into mine. “Shh,” she murmured, her breath warm against my skin. “No one’s here. No one needs to know.”
Her words were like a spell, breaking the last of my resistance. I reached out, my hands sliding up her waist, pulling her closer.
She leaned in, her lips brushing mine, and then we were kissing, hungry, desperate, like two people starving for something. Her mouth was soft and demanding, her tongue tangling with mine, and I groaned, my hands moving of their own accord. I cupped her big breasts, feeling the weight of them, the softness of her skin.
I couldn’t resist, leaning down to take one into my mouth, suckling gently as she gasped and clutched at my hair.
Written by Tito
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