A giddy 13 year old WALE skips along the tattered road, avoiding potholes, misfiring kekes, and erring bike-men as best as he possibly can.
He arrives at a small boutique. Its owner – MRS AISHA, 30s – is sitting below the stairs, reading a novel and enjoying the cool afternoon breeze.
He stares at her, smitten. She’s been on his mind all week long.
Mrs Aisha senses his presence. She looks up from her book and beams.
She’s a pretty woman, Mrs Aisha – heart-shaped face, small lips, and a cute button nose.
‘Wale. How na?’ Mrs Aisha greets.
‘Good afternoon, ma,’ Wale says.
‘You’re early today.’
Mrs Aisha gets up from the plastic chair. She’s wearing a wrapper and blouse, a popular attire amongst most Nigerian wives.
Wale’s round eyes sweep down Mrs Aisha’s body – her breasts are average, but her hips are ridiculously wide!
She turns around, and Wale unintentionally sucks in a gallon of air. Her magnificent buttocks bounce left-right-left-right as she makes her way towards her boutique.
Mrs Aisha opens the door. She pauses and turns to Wale.
‘Come in, nau,’ she says.
Wale nods stupidly and practically runs up to her.
They disappear into the boutique.
A massive traditional wedding is on the way and the DJ has almost everyone on their feet, dancing to his impressive mix of Nigerian R&B and Hip-Hop songs.
Wale, now very much older – late 20s, stands alone at a corner, watching the festivities with a faraway look.
The latest couple are gyrating on the stage, surrounded by family and friends who can’t seem to stop spraying money on them.
Wale should be up there with them, enjoying himself – after all, those are his people – but his troubled mind is a million miles away.
He glances about and soon his wandering gaze pauses on the woman responsible for his unstable emotional state – Mrs Aisha.
She’s on the dance floor with a friend, still beautiful as ever, and more fuller in body – her buttocks now carries more weight.
Wale touches his swollen crotch. Annoyed, he navigates slides through the crowd into the mansion.
In the sitting room, he serves himself a glass of juice and downs it. He tips the carton to pour some more juice, but nothing comes out. He shakes the carton – it’s empty.
Disappointed, he dumps the carton aside and leaves the sitting room.
In the dinning room, he spots Mrs Aisha in the kitchen through the adjoining door. She’s at the sink, washing a cup.
She later bends down to pick a bowl. Her buttocks fattens out.
Wale’s eyes widen. His heart races. He doesn’t realise his legs are taking him towards Mrs Aisha until he’s close to her.
Mrs Aisha turns and sees him. She smiles.
‘Wale,’ she says.
‘Good afternoon, ma.’
‘Longest time. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. I’m here where you left me.’
Mrs Aisha chuckles.
‘We are all here where you left us,’ she says.
‘But I didn’t go anywhere. You’re the one who disappeared.’
‘No, no. You travelled to the U.S first, remember?’
‘No nau, that was… Well… Ok, you have a point.’
Wale stares at Mrs Aisha’s soft plump lips.
Mrs Aisha just stands there, smiling. Either she’s unaware of Wale’s obvious lust for her, or she’s aware but chooses not to acknowledge it.
Wale decides to break the awkward silence.
‘Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?’
‘Yes, please. I need to go to Mummy’s room and change my shoes, but I don’t have the keys.’
An insignificant request, but nevertheless, Wale jumps at the opportunity to please her.
‘I’ll get the keys for you, don’t worry.’
‘Thank you, you’re such a dear.’
Mrs Aisha rubs Wale’s arm on her way out of the kitchen. That tiny gesture sends his dick on overdrive stiffness.
Wale searches for MRS ADEOYE, 40s. He locates her on the dance floor.
Mrs Adeoye is no Mrs Aisha, but her fat matured buttocks and big breasts still get the desired effect out of Wale.
She grins at him.
‘My husband, let’s dance nau,’ she says.
‘I need Mummy’s room keys, for Mrs Aisha,’ Wale says, declining her invitation.
‘Oh.’ Mrs Adeoye opens her purse and pulls out the room keys for Wale.
Wale collects them and slips off before Mrs Adeoye or anyone else can distract him any further.
Wale meets Mrs Aisha in the dinning room. He waves the keys for her to see. She beams.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she says.
She expects him to hand over the keys to her, but he doesn’t. Instead he leads the way upstairs to the room.
Mrs Aisha bends in front of Wale to unbuckle her heeled sandals.
Wale stares at her huge buttocks. He wants so badly to touch them.
Mrs Aisha straightens. She kicks off her sandals.
‘I heard you work for the government now,’ Wale says.
‘Yes. The Ministry of Environment in Abuja.’
‘Hmm. You’re a big woman now.’
Mrs Aisha chuckles.
‘No o. It’s not like that.’
‘And your husband?’
‘He’s in Abuja. My kids too.’
‘Two boys, if my memory serves me right.’
Mrs Aisha nods. She goes into the bathroom.
Wale stands around like an idiot, at times counting his feet. What does he really expect to happen? Mrs Aisha is his mother’s friend, happily married with kids, and he’s just a randy young man in desperate need of some serious sex therapy.
No. What he needs to do is get his act together before he embarrasses himself.
Sighing, he leaves the key on the bed and exits the room.
Wale takes a couple steps forward, and then stops. He stares back at the door, his heart thundering so hard in his chest he can feel it in his ears. He can either walk away and enjoy the party, or he can go back into the room, pull the ace out his sleeve, and continue prodding at Mrs Aisha until something gives.
He’s at a crossroads here, a point of no return. Whatever choice he makes now, he’ll have to stick by it.
He takes a deep breath, marches back to the room, and enters without knocking.
Mrs Aisha stares at him in shock. She’s holding her wrapper against her crotch.
Other than her traditional blouse, the only thing she has on from her waist down are her panties, most of which have sunk between her lusciously large butt cheeks.
‘Wale…’ she begins.
Wale drinks in the beautiful sight of her buttocks to the point of intoxication. It fuels his passion, and soon his fear of rejection is all but forgotten.
‘Ma. I wanted to talk to you about something,’ he says.
Mrs Aisha frowns. Clearly, she disapproves of his presence.
‘But I’m dressing up,’ she says.
‘This is important. It can’t wait.’ Wale dismisses her concerns.
Mrs Aisha holds Wale’s unsteady gaze with her unflinching one. She makes no attempt to cover herself fully. No point in it, really.
‘I want us to address what you did to me those years ago,’ Wale says.
Mrs Aisha sighs, shutting her eyes briefly.
‘I was hoping you’d have forgotten that,’ she mutters.
‘Forgotten? Ma, that’s not something one just forgets.’
‘Are you going to tell?’ There’s a tinge of fear in Mrs Aisha’s eyes.
Wale approaches her. When he’s close enough, he lifts a finger and traces it on the steep surface of her mighty ass.
Mrs Aisha stares at him, confused. She shifts away slightly, sending a clear message: she doesn’t want him touching her.
Wale isn’t discouraged. Not in the slightest.
‘Why would I want to tell anyone?’ he says.
‘What I did to you was wrong. I know that now. I’m really sorry,’ she says.
‘It doesn’t matter anymore. You changed my life forever. There’s no going back.’
Mrs Aisha wets her lips, nervous.
‘If that’s the case, then what do you want?’ she says.
‘I want us to continue where we stopped,’ Wale says. He grabs a healthy chunk of her buttocks and squeezes, groaning in the process, and alarming Mrs Aisha. ‘I need to fuck you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about ever since I saw you last night.’
‘Wale, stop it!’ Mrs Aisha slaps Wale’s hand off her ass.
Wale, though, is persistent and randy as hell. His hand finds its way back to squeezing her butt cheek.
‘Wale, if you don’t stop this nonsense right now, I’m going to report you to your parents,’ Mrs Aisha warns.
‘And tell them what? That when I was a young boy you were sucking my dick every afternoon at the back of your boutique, and now I’ve come back for more, because I’m addicted?’ Wale counters.
Mrs Aisha’s righteous anger dissolves into spine tingling fear. A shadow of shame falls over her face.
Wale pushes his hand between her buttocks. His fingers graze her anus, then her pussy. She squirms, uncomfortable.
He collects the wrapper she’s holding and tosses it on the bed.
‘Lock the door,’ he commands.
With a defeated look, Mrs Aisha ambles to the door and locks it with the key.
Wale pulls down his trousers, then his boxers. He massages his hefty, meaty 8-inch dick, covered in angry veins.
Mrs Aisha gives it a long look. She’s frightened, but underneath it all, Wale perceives the awe glinting in the dark of her eyes.
He steps to her. His hand attacks her buttocks.
Mrs Aisha plays along. She has no choice in the matter.
Gingerly, she takes Wale’s dick into her fist and rubs it carefully. God, it’s long, and fucking thick too. She stares at Wale in disbelief.
‘I know. It wasn’t this big back then. But you always saw its potential. Remember when you told me my dick was bigger than your husband’s? And I was just a small boy then,’ he says.
‘Please, Wale, there’s a lot of people around. Anyone can come up here at any moment and catch us. Can’t you just wait? We’ll find a private place. A hotel,’ Mrs Aisha suggests.
Wale leads Mrs Aisha to the bed. There’s a bunch of clothes and other stuff on it. He clears a space and gestures for her to lie down. She looks like she might cry.
‘Don’t worry, no one will disturb us. We’ll be quick and quiet,’ he says.
Mrs Aisha lies down, her back propped up by a snug gathering of pillows and clothes.
Wale spreads her legs. His finger slides into her warm pussy. His tongue flicks on the hood where her clit hides.
Mrs Aisha closes her eyes and clamps her mouth into a thin line. She can’t wait for Wale to finish so she can run off, ruminate on her past mistakes, and pray to God for forgiveness for the millionth time.
Maybe while she’s at it she can find a permanent solution to the madness that is Wale’s lust for her, because she can’t ever allow what’s happening to repeat itself again. She’s not that woman anymore.
Wale sucks Mrs Aisha’s clit, running his middle finger along the tight walls of her pussy, and Mrs Aisha – try as she may – cannot stop the build-up of wetness down there.
The longer Wale spends taming Mrs Aisha’s pussy, the more willing she becomes to surrendering completely to him.
Her mind, fragile from the effects of the potent desire for sex, reminds her that this is the first time in a very long time her body has felt this alive.
It begs her to see the positives in what’s happening, no matter how wrong it is. Surely, she stands to gain a long denied gratification when this is all over, no matter how short-lived.
Mrs Aisha sinks her fingers into the mattress and stares down at Wale with a pleasure-riddled grimace. She adjusts her body and opens her thighs further, giving him more room to her pussy.
The orgasm train churns towards its platform and she grits her teeth, hissing. She grabs the back of Wale’s head, arches her back.
Wale doesn’t deviate from his tongue action and finger-slicing tempo. He’s well-versed in the art of effective pussy plundering. Mrs Mary, his neighbour, and Ekaette, his dad’s plumber’s wife who sells bread across the street, can testify to that.
Mrs Aisha opens her mouth. A shaky moan filters out. Her body trembles. The orgasm sends a jet of cum out of her pussy.
Wale laps her juice like a thirsty dog. He lifts himself off the bed, a big smile on his face.
Despite the shame she feels, Mrs Aisha keeps a hungry eye on his big dick.
Wale kneels beside her face, offering his dick to her mouth. She holds it with both hands and stuffs it in.
‘Look at me when you’re sucking it,’ Wale says gruffly.
Aisha does as she’s instructed. Small as her mouth is, she’s able to slurp half his length.
‘Oh, yes…’ Wale caresses her earlobe. ‘I know you’ve missed my dick.’
Mrs Aisha doesn’t answer. They say actions speak louder than words. Well, her actions are singing right now.
Wale tries to shove more of him inside her mouth, but she can’t handle it. She chokes. She’s a team-player, so she doesn’t complain.
He withdraws from her mouth and slathers her spit all over his cock.
Mrs Aisha watches him, wondering what he’s going to do next.
Wale relocates back to her crotch. He rubs his dick on her soaked pussy lips.
Mrs Aisha stares down at the big dick. She doubts she can take it all in, though she’s more than willing to give it a try. Her anticipation comes with a side-piece of guilt, which soon ends up in the trash.
Wale doesn’t go all in. Not yet. He penetrates her with just the tip of his dick, then pulls out and teases her throbbing clit.
Mrs Aisha lets out a frustrated moan. Wale chuckles.
Finally, he sinks his dick inside her pussy.
Mrs Aisha shuts her eyes, purring, panting. She glances down at her pussy and sees that Wale is just half-way in. She feels so full already!
Wale groans as he buries the rest of his dick inside Mrs Aisha, who grips his waist.
He moves backward-forward, so smooth, so athletic, taking his sweet time to ensure every inch of her pussy feels the wrath of his thick meat.
Mrs Aisha moves her hands to her big thighs, keeping them spread. She writhes to the tune of his wandering dick in her poor convulsing pussy.
‘And you were resisting me before,’ Wale groans.
Mrs Aisha’s response comes out in a rush of jumbled syllables.
‘That your husband that doesn’t fuck you. Don’t worry, I’ll help him. Or what do you think? Should I help him?’ Wale says.
‘Yes!’ Mrs Aisha manages.
Wale leans, kisses her lips, her neck. She swathes his back, grips his shoulders. His firm strokes shove his dick deeper into her. She moans louder. Thankfully, the DJ’s music drowns out the noise she’s making.
He elevates his upper body with his fists. His waist propels his crotch jabs faster.
He especially enjoys Mrs Aisha’s contorted face, a sure sign that his dick is working wonders for her.
With a grunt, Wale anchors her right leg, raising it.
Mrs Aisha reaches for the headboard, clutches it. She should remind him of his promise to finish quickly so they can return to the party before their absence is noticed, but logic has no say here, in this moment, not while her pussy is getting a good hammering from the dick of truth.
Wale stops fucking Mrs Aisha. He pulls out.
‘Turn around,’ he says hoarsely.
Mrs Aisha wastes no time.
Wale holds one large butt check apart from the other, and slides in. He resumes fucking her, squeezing her buttocks.
Mrs Aisha jerks her ass, moving in sync with Wale’s thrusts.
Wale grabs her waist, pounding her with everything he’s got. He wants her to remember this day for the rest of her life.
He stares down at her ass, watching it wobble and clap, and sparks fly off in his head.
The muscles in his thighs quiver. His vision blurs. His rhythm intensifies.
His dick explodes. Mrs Aisha cries out, cumming as well.
Wale doesn’t stop fucking her until his balls are completely empty. He staggers off the bed, panting.
Mrs Aisha lies on her front, out of breath. Her pussy still burns. Honestly, she’s missed this feeling.
She waits for the guilt to consume her. Surprisingly, it doesn’t.
Wale can’t resist spanking her buttocks. She yelps. He delivers light bites to each butt cheek.
‘You better clean yourself up and leave before I get hard again and fuck you,’ Wale tells her.
Mrs Aisha quietly crawls out of bed and enters the bathroom.
The party is still going strong.
Wale drinks beer with a couple of friends. He spots Mrs Aisha dancing with his mother and aunts, and he smirks, sharing a private joke with himself about the way her buttocks keep bouncing whenever she moves.
Her gaze catches him. She smiles shyly.
Tonight, as agreed, he’s going to fuck her again, at a hotel, and this time it’s going to be a much longer affair. When he’s done with her pussy, the only name that’ll matter to her is his.