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I swirled my tongue all around first one stiff, rubbery nipple and then the other, using the tongue on them even longer and harder. My hands caressed her massive boobs.

I latched my lips onto one of her nipples and sucked on them.

She moaned the more. She lifted her arms and ran her fingers through her twinkling, night-shaded tresses, thrusting out and abandoning her treasure chest to my loving hands and mouth.

I sucked long and hard on her left tit, scouring the underside of it with my busy tongue, biting into its swollen nipple. I repeated the erotic process with her other sensitive boob. I then shoved her boobs together and forked my tongue back and forth across both of the babe’s obviously pumped-up nipples.

Cynthia’s body and boobs shuddered in my hands, but I kept right on with the tongue-lashing, desperately feeling up her smooth, superheated tit-flesh. Until at last her eyes popped open and she moaned again.

I caressed her damp breasts in order that she could remove her skirt, so that I could unbuckle and unzip my trousers. She moved her butt backwards and spread her legs.

Briefly, I could see that her shaven cunt was covered with wetness. I shuffled forward, in between her slim, honey-dipped limbs, my arrow-straight cock pointing stiffly and directly at her slit, certainly straining to find a home there.

“Oh, go on!” she urged, leaning back against the wall. She gathered up her splayed breasts and squeezed them.

I lifted her legs up, gulped down some air, and then parted her slick pussy lips with the head of my prick. I pushed forward, diving deep into the luscious lady’s sopping Arrow.

I started pumping my hips. Bang, bang, bang, I went on. I churned my rod back and forth in Cynthia’s tight, juicy cunt, the bed slightly creaking in return. I could see her butt and boobs shaking with each and every cock-thrust that I made.

Once again, I grabbed onto her brown, full boobs. I groped them, rolled and pulled the nipples. Simultaneously, my pulsating cock slid in and out of her pussy.

She gripped the edge of the bed with her fingers and decisively moved her head back and forth against the wall.

While she moaned, I released occasional grunts. I stepped up my action, fucking the honey pot in a frenzy. The lower part of my body smacked against her rippling butt cheeks. My battering-ram cock seemed to be splitting her in two. I gritted in baited breaths.

Her body jerked and her boobs jounced around in my busy hands, as I hammered the both of us headlong into orgasm. The semen in my balls boiled out-of-control and shot up my shaft and spray-painted the velvet walls of her gushing pussy. I shot out wad after white-hot wad into Cynthia’s love tunnel, in time to the electric shocks that jolted our bodies.

The act was finally over. I lay satisfied on the bed even as I patted her sensuous melons and gently squeezed them. I primped her nipples, as she shook with the after-effects of ecstasy.

That was my own way of ‘celebrating.’



The Madam at the Top: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/the_madam_at_the_top/38899

So much Ado

about nothing.

Too bad.


The graduates are a reflection of the rot in Nigerian society.

So sad.


Life is indeed a paradox.


Hmn!

Cool

Cool

From Obalende, I took BRT bus to Ikorodu. The traffic was hectic, as usual. After a long time, I finally got down at Irawo bus stop, Owode Ajegunle.
I lived off Owulade street. My single room was small but neat and decent. At twenty-seven, it was not too bad to live in such a place, I decided. By the time I earned better income and settled down to a marriage life, I had no doubt that I would live in a bigger and better place.

I removed my clothing to a short and singlet. I lay on the bed, staring at the television absentmindedly. I was dozing off when there was a soft knock on my door. Without waiting for an answer, the door turned and was opened.

‘Hello, dear.’ It was Cynthia, my girlfriend and future partner. Cynthia was an apprentice at a fashion shop. She seemed good enough for me.

I smiled and sat up on the bed. ‘How are you, darling?”

She came to sit on the bed by my side. ‘I’m fine. How about the interview you went for?’

‘Oh, thank God, the result was fine. I’ll start the job tomorrow.’

She hugged me briefly. ‘Oh, that’s good news. I hope they pay well, o.’

I told her the pay.

‘Oh, that’s good. It’s not bad at all.’

I nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, it’s not bad. We need to celebrate.’

‘Hmn, with food and drinks?’

I drew her to me. ‘No, with you. Just you and me.’

She knew what I meant.

Kissed her and rubbed my hands on her back. My hands found their way to the hook of her bra. Today, she was wearing a sexy, lacy one. I
unhooked it with my agile fingers. Cynthia turned around to face me, arms squeezed together to keep her deep-cupped bra in place. This way, she
showed an inviting cleavage.

‘Is this your own way of celebrating?’ she giggled, dropping her arms to her sides, and letting her bra drop to the floor. Her tits were huge and
heavy right in front of me. The nipples were already shot out and protruding.

She was demure as usual. I grabbed onto her boobs and squeezed. They felt so nice in my hands. I steered my breast-blessed babe further on to
the bed. Her bum made a noticeable plough on the bed. I hefted her boobs and bent my head down and licked at her nipples.

“Mmm!” she moaned, closing her eyes and playfully biting my right ear. I knew from experience that she was in the mood too. I swirled my tongue
all around first one stiff, rubbery nipple and then the other, using the tongue on them even longer and harder. My hands caressed her massive
boobs. I latched my lips onto one of her nipples and sucked on them.

She moaned the more. She lifted her arms and ran her fingers through her twinkling, night-shaded tresses, thrusting out and abandoning her
treasure chest to my loving hands and mouth. I sucked long and hard on her left tit, scouring the underside of it with my busy tongue, biting into its swollen nipple. I repeated the erotic process with her
other sensitive boob. I then shoved her boobs together and forked my tongue back and forth across both of the babe’s obviously pumped-up nipples.



Madam at the Top: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/the_madam_at_the_top/38899

Is age indeed just a matter of numbers? Meet 92 Years Old Woman Who Dresses Like a Slay Queen


It has been said that each Age group has a different way of dressing, the young dress in most fashionable attractive way as compared to the to the old. This might be because they have the energy to keep up with latest fashion trends and social media. However, for Hellen Ruth Elam aka Baddie winkle this is not the case as she is older, trendy and fashionable than makes he look slightly younger.

Baddie winkle was born in 18th July 1928 as Hellen Ruth Elam. She is ninety two (92) years old as of 2020. Baddie is the world's most coolest, stylish and fashionable granny. She is also an Instagram influencer.

Baddie has garnered over three million (3. 6M) followers on Instagram. Most of her fans are always impressed with Baddie' sense of fashion and dressing. She is a fashion icon old influencer on "young dressing" as her sense of style and dressing is for the young girls. She wanted to be a movie star during her younger years but she never thought she would be famous when she became older.

Baddie's social media profile states "stealing your man since 1928", indeed Baddie's dressing on fashionable short, tight dresses and high heels makes her look young, fashionable and stunning that she can steal your man's attention.

Baddie rose to fame about five years ago when her grand daughter posted her on social media wearing summer shorts. People paid attention and she found it fun. She started wearing young and that's how she became famous.
Below are photos of Hellen Ruth Elam.

Baddie Winkle dressing makes her look so young that makes it hard for one to believe she is 92 years old.

It was a classic case of love went sour.

Interesting story

Money, money, money.


Money is the root of all evils.

For everything under the sun, there's a season.


For him, a time to cry.

Congrats.

Providing security should be paramount to Amotekun.


It should not involve itself in championing culture or tradition.

Why the confusion?

Let 'Amotekun' foster its noble cause.

Agitations can be done without violence.


I am for violence-free agitations.

The case is like


Nigeria's call obey

It is just an illusion.

We have overcome.

After about a minute, she came out and beckoned at me. I stood up and entered the office. The office was a large, exquisitely furnished one.
Behind the large desk was a woman who should be in her late forties or early fifties. So, this was the CEO.

‘Good morning, Madam,’ I greeted.

‘Good morning.’ She looked at me all over the way you would check if a particular item was suitable for you or not.

‘Can you really drive very well or not?’ she blurted out.

‘I can drive very well, Madam.’

She looked at me all over again and nodded. ‘Are you aware that if you do not measure up, you will be fired immediately?’

From her tone, I could see that she was arrogant and imperious. ‘I understand, Madam.’

She seemed to study me all over. ‘Alright. What’s your name again?’

‘Benjamin Bada.’

‘Okay, Ben. You will follow the Human Resources Manager back to her office where she will issue you letter of employment and ID card. She will also give you the uniform you will be using. Your work starts here tomorrow morning by eight o’clock.’

‘Thank you, Madam.’

I followed the HRM back to her office and sat in the ante-office to her own. After several minutes, the letter of employment was issued.

‘You will get the uniform and the ID card tomorrow morning when you report to work,’ she said.

‘Okay, Madam. Thank you a lot.’

I collected the letter from her and quickly read it.

‘You will also have to bring your letter of acceptance tomorrow.’

‘Yes, Madam. Thank you, ma’am.’

I left the place a happy man. The offers were quite good, besides some perks which were stated that I would enjoy. Everything turned out to be
easy. On my way home, I thought of probably buying new shirts and trousers for my new job but decided against it. Since I would be wearing uniform, there was no need I rushed to buy new clothes.

From Obalende, I took BRT bus to Ikorodu. The traffic was hectic, as usual. After a long time, I finally got down at Irawo bus stop, Owode Ajegunle. I lived off Owulade street. My single room was small but neat and decent. At twenty-seven, it was not too bad to live in such a place, I decided. By the time I earned better income and settled down to a marriage life, I had no doubt that I would live in a bigger and better place.


The Madam at the Top: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/the_madam_at_the_top/38899

Cool