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Saturday, July 30, 2016

Story of the day (romantic) episode 2

gave me a feeling that was close to magic. He worked
on me
with ripe experience—one hand covering one breast,
his lips
covering the other.
He switched style with a delicious rhythm.
My body was now warm, every nerve in me was
stretching,
pulling away as I breastfed him.
He kept on at my tips till it became sweet torture. But
he
knew just when to stop.
He was skilled. Obviously.
His hands went down to my stomach. He stroked my
navel
lightly and then moved down to my spot.
I was already filled with fluid.
He palmed my womanhood and began rubbing that
little pleasure
nub at the entrance.
I started to convulse.
He kept on rubbing for a while, and then he slipped
two fingers
into me.
My mouth burst open.
As he moved his fingers round my wet warm self, the
pleasure
soared to a tremulous height.
‘This is wrong!’ a voice whispered to my ears.
He was married; he’d told he has a wife in the village.
But I quickly brushed off the voice and gave myself
completely
away to the flight.
However could I have resisted? I was already in
Wonderland,
he’d sent me there. Right then, if you ask me my
name, I
would scream Alice!
I was now writhing to every of his movement,
moaning his name
repeatedly.
Something kept enlarging in me, I could feel it
strongly now.
Intense and deep. Like a huge ball of pleasure, one
that could
explode soon and leave me swimming in a sugary
syrupy river.
He just sat there, calm, quiet, all his concentration in
making me
feel amazing.
Now my breath came in labored gasps.
My legs were jerking.
I held him, my fingers digging into his back.
He kept on at it.
My hands were moving all over his back now, as if
searching
for something to hold. Something to grip before I
pour away.
He didn’t let go, instead he kept up faster.
I let out a great loud moan as my body raked to the
explosion.
I have never had a wet arrival before. It was my very
first.
Sweet and lovingly filling.
He continued stroking my wet area as if to make sure
I savored
every drop of the wonderful feeling.
He wanted to take me through another ride, but I had
to make
him stop.
I was getting sore and sensitive.
I began to feel guilty and I told him.
He assured me that it was okay, that he had wanted
to do it
all along. That I didn’t seduce him.
He didn’t ask for anything in return like most guys
would; all
he wanted was just to please me.
Now as I stare at that particular spot on my bed
where he sat
that night, now empty with no sign of him anywhere
around,
neither in my room nor anywhere in the compound, I
couldn’t
help but feel low.
His presence, his scent, his talks about money and
Nigeria and
the bad government, his laughter, his infectious toothy
smile—they
are all gone now.
There is this emptiness I feel in his absence.
Though it has been some days since he left, I still feel
vacant,
like a house stripped of all its furniture.
The compound suddenly became too quiet, lifeless.
I feel lonely.
I feel scared at night.
But I smile at every thought of you.
My wonderful neighbour. THE END
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