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We will have to wait till next year before we can do so. That is, at least a year after Busola’s death. What do you think?”

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking of the same thing.”

“So, for now, we really have to be discreet about everything. Let’s just say we’re secret lovers.”

I grinned. How appropriate. “You’re right.” My mind went to the maid. “I think the maid already knows something.”

“Don’t worry about her. I will take care of her angle.”

I nodded, musing over the words, secret lovers. She placed her left leg on my legs. It was an invitation to cuddle those beautiful legs again.

“Do I really have the assurance that you’re mine?” she asked.

“Of course. There’s no reason to doubt.”

“Do you still want to have kids?”

I chuckled. “No. I’m okay with the two I already have.”

She nodded and smiled. “I’m okay with the one I already have too.”

My right hand moved up her thighs under her belly. My hand was under her satin top.

Gently, I rubbed the smooth skin. She held my hand and moved it to her right breast, helping me to achieve what I had been longing for.
Wow! My breathing instantly quickened. I removed the top to get a good view of the part.

The boobs were fill with large nipples and areola.They looked so firm I suspected she must have gone through surgery. I would simply not believe that the shape, size and make of her breasts were natural.

Certainly, they were not so robust; no, not in any way like Busola’s own. But they looked rounded enough to be very enticing. Whether natural or not did not actually matter to me. It didn't also matter whether they were firm or flabby. When I liked a woman, the shape or size of her breasts did not matter.

I made an exceptional case this time around as I teased and licked the nipples, even when I knew she wasn’t married to me.

She let out some moans and gripped me. I found it amazing the ‘the whole’ Ms. Morgan, my amorous and highly connected woman, was in my arms and I was playing a very sensuous game with her body.

Then, I slowed down. I must not, under any circumstance, be carried away by any amorous expedition. My mouth moved, to her neck region., but she removed my mouth and put it back on her breast. She definitively wanted more action there.



Source: https://selar.co/51r73d

Formerly titled Lust City



Agatha and her friends are beautiful undergraduates that are carried away by the city allure. They frolic and indulge in all sorts of exuberance. In a hard way, they learn that not all that glitters is gold. Agatha learns the lessons of her life and settles for what she never envisaged.













By seven p.m., when Manu got to the Pleasure Zone Restaurant and Bar, the place was already brimming with customers. After the hard day's work, many men decided to frequent the place for relaxation. Some came to drink while some wanted to dine. Some others came to satisfy their pent-up lusts. Yet, some came to enjoy all the services that the place could offer. Apart from the food, wine and beer, some scantily dressed ladies offered 'short time' and 'long term' services for men who desired them.

Manu came to take drinks and pepper soup and to have a fun-filling time with his regular, the lady simply known as Princess.

He sat on one of the plastic chairs surrounding an empty round table. He could see and hear clearly the programme going on the television. One of the sales girls drifted towards him.

'Welcome, sir. What can we offer you?'

Manu nodded at her. He told her the brand of beer he wanted. 'Also, give me a plate of pepper soup.'

Within a couple of minutes, his orders were brought. He used table spoon to sip the pepper soup as he took the beer. Intermittently, he also picked meats from the plate and munched. He had not spent up to ten minutes when Femi came to the bar. Manu and Femi were working together before the latter got a job at Dangogo Foods Limited as Sales Supervisor.

Manu owned Excellento Tutorial School and Femi used to be his Economics teacher for GCE and UTME students. His job had taken him away, but not totally. Many evenings, they met in the bar.
'Manu, the Manu,' Femi hailed, making straight for his table. 'How was school today?'

Manu smiled, shook hands with him and shrugged. 'School was fine as usual,' he returned. 'How was you rice, salt and sugar business?'

'Fine too.' He sat down opposite Manu. He too ordered for beer and pepper soup. As the sales girl brought his orders, Femi looked at her with a grin.

'Is Juliet around?'

The girl nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

Femi's grin became wider. 'Tell her to come.'

Once again, the sales girl nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

Manu could not understand why Femi was fond of Juliet. It was true she was busty and well-endowed at the bum, to Manu, she was too tall and muscular for his liking. But then, that was Femi's choice. After all, one man's food was another's poison.



Keep reading @ https://selar.co/2z637i

What do we call this kind of fire?

I believe it is an evidence that humans are imperfect and will remain so.

funkemary:
Beautiful story

Next please

Thanks for the compliment.

.

Many of the so called predictions are deductive reasonings based on current situation.

Nothing more than that.

People should be careful about using AI to generate someone else's picture.

Pastor Adeboye deserves some respect

But her boobs were still out of view. Her tummy was smooth and flat. The flatness was probably as a result of her lying position.

As I mover my palms to her body, the image of Busola suddenly appeared. It was vivid, as if I had seen her real picture. I stopped my act immediately.




PART TWO


The image stared at me. Wait a minute, why was it that Busola’s image was not frowning or looking at me in disapproval. Rather, she smiled at me. Why was she smiling? Was she not supposed to be miffed that just about ten months after her demise, I wanted to hold a woman in love and tenderness?

Then, she was out of my mind. I stared Ms. Morgan’s beautiful body. Go on, my mind told me, tentatively, my right palms rested on her mid-rift. It moved to the navel and gently caressed the place. She closed her eyes. That was what Busola too usually did? Hey, stop it, my mind said. Stop comparing Ms. Morgan with Busola.

But another part of my mind said there was no cause for alarm. I rubbed me hand on the tummy, feeling her skin and having a sensation. It was still difficult to believe that I was holding Ms. Morgan so lovingly. I rubbed my hand on the upper middle part of her chest, but it never reached her breasts. I didn’t want to rush things. Besides, I told myself I was doing all this out of love, not lust.

Again, Busola’s image flashed through my mind, smiling. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. One thing was me and Ms. Morgan had to keep this relationship for some time.

“Are you thinking of her?” Ms. Morgan suddenly asked.

“Thinking of who?”

“You know who I mean. Are you thinking of Busola?”

How did she guess right? “Yes,” I answered.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure she will approve of this relationship.”

I was astonished. “How could you tell?”

“She will,” Ms. Morgan insisted. Now, where was that confidence and assurance coming from?

Some seconds, then minutes passed. I still stayed within ‘boundary.’

“Have your read her diary?”

I was surprised she knew Busola kept diaries.

“She told you she kept diaries?”

“Yes. Have you gone through them?”

There were three diaries she left behind. I decided to keep them in remembrance of her, along with some of her things. But in all honesty, I had not read them.

“I hope you’ve not thrown them away.”

“No, they are among some of her things that I kept. In truth, I’ve not gone through them.”

Ms. Morgan opened her eyes. “You need to read them. You need to read what she wrote about me.”

I was surprised again. These were certainly moments of surprises. I was surprised the level of confidentiality between Busola and Ms. Morgan was much deeper that I had thought.

There was another long pause. I decided to explore the other part of her body. My hand went to her thighs. They were smooth and succulent. She cooed as I caressed them.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to keep to your no premarital sex with me?” she asked in a whisper.

What a question! If this woman thought I was weak in my resolve, she would be making a big mistake.

“I’m perfectly sure,” I said.

“Really?”

“You will see, my dear.”

She giggled. After more minutes, she said she felt sleepy.

“Go on. Take a nap.” I stopped what I was doing and stood up.

“Where’re you going?”

“I want to leave you to take your nap.”

“You don’t need to go out. Stay.”

I sat on the bed again. She turned, such that she was now lying on her belly. I stared at her bum. They were not very big for her slim body, but they were enticing enough. I touched and rubbed them gently.

Some minutes later, I could see that she had slept. I stopped touching her body. Let her rest, my mind said. I looked around her room. I was sure there would be many clothes in there. Her clothes should not be my preoccupation, I cautioned myself.

I lie down on the bed beside her with my thought alternating between Busola and Ms. Morgan. I soon slept off too. Several minutes later, Ms. Morgan tapped on my body to wake me up.

“Maria has made food for us,” she said. “Let’s go to the dining-table to eat.”

I got up and followed her to the dinning-table. Three days ago, if anyone had told me I would sleep in Ms. Morgan’s bed that hour, I would have seriously disputed it. I was surprised it was already past noon. Goodness, I must have slept for almost two hours.

We sat next to each other at the table. The way the maid looked at me, I knew she must be wondering what was going on between myself and the madam of the house. Let them keep wondering.

I smiled to myself. It was a delicious lunch of jolof rice and beef. I ate to my full satisfaction with Madam Dupe urging me to take more.

That very moment, I decided I would be calling her M.D (Madam Dupe), apart from endearments. M.D was also endearment as it could mean My Dear.

After the meal, we retired to her bedroom again. We indeed seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. All we did was to chat. She revealed things she had never told me before, from her childhood to adulthood and how she came to have her first daughter, her only child. Sophia had been living in Spain for the past six years. MD said she had the child when she was twenty-six, though she was not ready for marriage.

Why having the child when she was not ready? I wanted to know. She shrugged. She was not the marriage type, in her estimation, she said. That was twenty-five years ago. I did a simple calculation. Two years ago, MD celebrated fifty years’ birthday. She was fifty-two now. At twenty-nine, she was twenty-three years older than me!

But the age difference didn’t matter. I had always believed that. I told her about myself too. She definitely had more to tell me, than I had to tell her. I was with her until she had a visitor about five p.m. I stood up. It was time for me to return to my residence.

As I drove home, I kept thinking about the development between MD and me. More importantly, I thought about what she said Busola disclosed to her. On getting home, I opened one of Busola’s leather boxes. I then brought out the three diaries and started reading.

She was indeed a freak of record keeper. Among many things, she wrote about the date she first started to work in my Abuja office, the day I proposed to her, the day she first visited my home and what we did, including the fact that I unbuttoned her top and kissed her boobs! I smiled as I read this.

She also wrote down what she told Ms. Morgan about me. Busola painted my image as a willful and principled character. She wrote that I was a loving husband and a devoted family man. I however got to something that made me to become curious – very curious.

She wrote that when she was no more, she would be happy if I could take MD as my wife.
My heart literarily stopped beating. Did Busola really write this? Of course, it was her diary and her hand writing. What did she mean by when she was no more?

Did she have an inkling that she would soon die? That disturbing part was written first of February, and she died some days later. How could she have written this, and how come she went to discuss the matter with Ms. Morgan?
Calm down, I told myself. I read the diary to the end and read the other two. I was more than curious and I had to put a call to MD.

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” I started.

“No, dear.”

“I’ve read the Busola’s diaries. One aspect that got and still gets me confused is where she stated that she would like me to marry you after she’s gone. She told you that aspect, right?”

Ms. Morgan, also known as My Dear, gave an unexpected answer. “No, she didn’t tell me that part.”

I was confused. “But you said she told you …she told you many things.”

“Not that one. I don’t even understand what that means. Could it be that she had a premonition of her death?”

I was exasperated. “That’s the question I was about to ask you. Did she hint about her death to you? Did she reveal to you that I should have love relationship with you?”

“No. All I can say is that she told me she wrote something about you and me in her diary. That was why I asked you if you had read her diary.”

I couldn’t get any further information from MD. I was sure there was more to this, “Alright. Thank you, madam.”

“Madam?” she quickly put in.

“Sorry, I mean my dear. I may need some time to adjust to my new status.” I laughed shortly.

“I can understand, darling. Are you coming over tonight?”

My heart started thumping. “You want me to come?” I asked unnecessarily.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

“See you.”

Another meal was waiting for me by the time I got to MD’s house. It was amala with ewedu soup.

“I hope you’ll like the meal,” she said.

I beamed in smile. “Sure. There’s no doubt that I will like any meal that comes from you.”

Once again, I ate to my satisfaction. Surely, Maria was a great cook. After the meal, MD and I went upstairs to her bedroom.

“It’s still a mystery to me that Busola wrote some of those stuffs,” I said. “I can’t believe she wrote the part about when she’s gone.”

“I’m surprised to hear that too.”

MD’s tone didn’t really show any surprise, and I wondered the extent of what she knew. I concluded that she knew more that she wanted to admit. As time went on, I believed I would unravel some ’mysteries.’

“So, how’re you today?” MD asked, changing the topic.

“Fine. What about you?”

She nodded. I observed her in the satin sleep wear she was wearing. She looked enticing as usual.

She put on the television set in the bedroom and flicked to a fashion channel. There was a leather sofa in the room where we sat.

“I’ve been thinking of something,” she said.

“We cannot make our relationship public for now. We will have to wait till next year before we can do so. That is, at least a year after Busola’s death. What do you think?”




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Misplaced priorities.

But then, it is his cup of tea.

Dear friends, this is to wish you all a peaceful, progressive and prosperous new year.

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