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UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

UNDERNEATH THE HIJAB PART 1 . I’m a big fan of women that are taboo. They represent a conquest, a challenge, an accomplishment that you can secretly smile to yourself about. There’s something exciting about pretty girls who wear (long) hijabs. They give you only a glimpse of their beauty leaving your mind to wonder what lies beneath the surface. Sometimes beneath the luster of the silky fabric, you can see the outline of enormous breasts. That drives me over the edge and I start to fantasize about what it would be like to experience them in bed. The first girlfriend I had during my undergraduate days was one of them. Nobody thought I would succeed with her. Her name was Zainab and she was a devout muslim. I mean she didn’t shake hands with boys, she never showed her hair and she never missed her fasting and prayers. We took some classes together and occasionally, we worked on some assignments together. I was friends with her for two years before I actually let her know how I felt about her. She was one person I thought I would be last with all the way to the end. She had grown comfortable with me and we had become inseparable on campus. We never had any time alone together because we both lived with our parents at the time. However I had an office as a student since I worked part time. One Saturday, we found ourselves in the office. Alone. Together. For the first time. It was like being 13 again. I knew she had never been with a man before or even had a boyfriend. She had never been kissed or touched or held before. Completely innocent. We were sitting in the office working on a programming assignment together. When we were done, we starting talking about her innocence and why she had chosen to live the way she did. Before long I was able to convince her that she wouldn’t burst into flames if I held her hand. It took some patience on my part but eventually she became comfortable holding me. My hands moved to her thighs and with some resistance, she starting asking what I was doing. I told her to relax and I reassured her that I would be gentle. I caressed her thighs gently, running my hands over the tights she had beneath her outer garment. She felt so good and considering that it was my first time with her, I reveled in the moment. I could tell that she enjoyed it even though she kept telling me to stop. As I loosened up her garment, I caught my first glimpse of what her breasts looked like. They were big but not huge. A small D I think. My hands wandered from her thighs to cup them but she was having none of it. She covered them across with her left hand still asking what I was doing. And once again I had to reassure her that if she didn’t like it after I started, I would stop instantly. She resisted but eventually I had my palm on her top, gently caressing one of her breasts. It was an amazing feel. “Who’s teaching you all this?”, she asked as I leaned in to kiss the little cleavage she had exposed. I could sense that her words were slurred because of what she was experiencing. My hands wandered through the open part of her low cut top to feel her actual Bosom. Skin- to-skin. I enjoyed playing “find the Tip” with her Bosom as I searched frantically for what seemed like forever inside her bra. I raised her top eventually, enough to access her bra. And without taking it off completely, I had both breasts out. They were much lighter in complexion than her face and the sight of them was entrancing. Soon I was gently suckling them and I could feel her hands on my hair, caressing my head as I sucked, licked and kissed her Tips. I tried in vain to stuff as much of her breasts as I could into my mouth but they were too big. “Where did you learn this?”, she asked again. “You’re a bad boy.” This time, she had no resistance left. I took my time to explore her breasts with my fingers and my tongue. They kept me busy for ages and as my erection grew harder and harder, I could feel pre-Pour leaking onto my boxers. I didn’t want anything more. I wanted her to be comfortable first before we went any further. Soon she was directing me. Lick the other one. Come back to this one. In my mind, conquering Rome wouldn’t have been as satisfying. I had broken down the first barrier. And they said I wouldn’t succeed. I wish they could see me now.
. click on the link below to continue reading
http://www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/05/18/underneath-hijab-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1
.


Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled
with made-up entities and events.
Absolutely no sexual activities involve
humans under age 18. People sin and
suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms,
same as in real life. This e—-c horror story
is entirely my own fault — do not blame my
wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many
hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it
without you This is NOT a short read. Your
constructive comments are always
welcome.
“You want to order a drink, or are you
going to just sit there all night?”
The female bartender’s abrupt outburst
snapped Cole from his trance.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.”
The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look.
“You came to this club to sit at the bar
alone, stare at people, and order soft
drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men
do here on a busy Friday night.”
Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as
attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so,
however, whether he knew it or not. He was
in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair,
muscular body, and strong jaw with a five-
o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was
attractive, but was it too obvious that he
had been spending all his time observing
the jam packed dance floor?
“I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t
go in hammered, can I?”
The bartender smiled, nodding in
agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke.
Unknown to her, Cole was already at work.
A member of Chicago Police Department’s
Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating
a recent series of disappearances of young
women in their late teens and early
twenties, all of whom were described as
very attractive. Their disappearances were
believed to be linked to a long running s-x
trade organization with hubs in major cities
around the country. He traced the missing
women’s last known locations to a night
club near Chicago’s industrial district.
The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was
a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a
reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately
for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his
wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers
so thick no detective or prosecutor would
dare attempt to break through without
ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to
make something stick, he’d have to catch
him in the act.
The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold
drink and left to tend to others at the bar.
He took a sip as he focused on the dance
floor filled with people laughing, dancing,
and having a great night.
All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a
very long time.
Above the dance floor was a balcony
reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning
over the rail, was none other than the
owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in
an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was
certain they were both searching for the
same target, albeit for very different
reasons.
There were plenty of women on the dance
floor, though most of them didn’t stand out
as supermodel material like the vanished
women. All seemed to be accompanied by
someone, usually a man, probably their
significant other or soon-to-be one night
stand.
Then Cole saw her.
.

click on the link below to continue reading
www.naijanoisemakers.com.ng/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1
.


Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled
with made-up entities and events.
Absolutely no sexual activities involve
humans under age 18. People sin and
suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms,
same as in real life. This e—-c horror story
is entirely my own fault — do not blame my
wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many
hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it
without you This is NOT a short read. Your
constructive comments are always
welcome.
“You want to order a drink, or are you
going to just sit there all night?”
The female bartender’s abrupt outburst
snapped Cole from his trance.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.”
The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look.
“You came to this club to sit at the bar
alone, stare at people, and order soft
drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men
do here on a busy Friday night.”
Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as
attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so,
however, whether he knew it or not. He was
in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair,
muscular body, and strong jaw with a five-
o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was
attractive, but was it too obvious that he
had been spending all his time observing
the jam packed dance floor?
“I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t
go in hammered, can I?”
The bartender smiled, nodding in
agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke.
Unknown to her, Cole was already at work.
A member of Chicago Police Department’s
Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating
a recent series of disappearances of young
women in their late teens and early
twenties, all of whom were described as
very attractive. Their disappearances were
believed to be linked to a long running s-x
trade organization with hubs in major cities
around the country. He traced the missing
women’s last known locations to a night
club near Chicago’s industrial district.
The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was
a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a
reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately
for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his
wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers
so thick no detective or prosecutor would
dare attempt to break through without
ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to
make something stick, he’d have to catch
him in the act.
The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold
drink and left to tend to others at the bar.
He took a sip as he focused on the dance
floor filled with people laughing, dancing,
and having a great night.
All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a
very long time.
Above the dance floor was a balcony
reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning
over the rail, was none other than the
owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in
an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was
certain they were both searching for the
same target, albeit for very different
reasons.
There were plenty of women on the dance
floor, though most of them didn’t stand out
as supermodel material like the vanished
women. All seemed to be accompanied by
someone, usually a man, probably their
significant other or soon-to-be one night
stand.
Then Cole saw her.
.

click on the link below to continue reading
www.naijanoisemakers.com.ng/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
click on the link below to continue reading www.naijanoisemakers.com/2017/08/01/cole-demon-part-1/

COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
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COLE AND THE DEMON PART 1 .

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story, filled with made-up entities and events. Absolutely no sexual activities involve humans under age 18. People sin and suffer and have cataclysmic orgasms, same as in real life. This e—-c horror story is entirely my own fault — do not blame my wonderful editor, Hypoxia, who spent many hours helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you This is NOT a short read. Your constructive comments are always welcome. “You want to order a drink, or are you going to just sit there all night?” The female bartender’s abrupt outburst snapped Cole from his trance. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’ll have a Coke, please.” The bartender gave Cole a peculiar look. “You came to this club to sit at the bar alone, stare at people, and order soft drinks? Not the usual thing attractive men do here on a busy Friday night.” Attractive? Cole never thought of himself as attractive. She wasn’t the first to think so, however, whether he knew it or not. He was in his mid 30’s, tall, short dark hair, muscular body, and strong jaw with a five- o’clock shadow. Okay, maybe he was attractive, but was it too obvious that he had been spending all his time observing the jam packed dance floor? “I have to be at work in a few hours. Can’t go in hammered, can I?” The bartender smiled, nodding in agreement. She turned to fetch him a Coke. Unknown to her, Cole was already at work. A member of Chicago Police Department’s Bureau of Detectives, he was investigating a recent series of disappearances of young women in their late teens and early twenties, all of whom were described as very attractive. Their disappearances were believed to be linked to a long running s-x trade organization with hubs in major cities around the country. He traced the missing women’s last known locations to a night club near Chicago’s industrial district. The owner of the club, Travis Dunham, was a well known wealthy entrepreneur with a reputation for dirty business. Unfortunately for Cole, as well as the rest of the CPD, his wealth provided him with a wall of lawyers so thick no detective or prosecutor would dare attempt to break through without ironclad evidence. Cole knew if he were to make something stick, he’d have to catch him in the act. The bartender returned with Cole’s ice cold drink and left to tend to others at the bar. He took a sip as he focused on the dance floor filled with people laughing, dancing, and having a great night. All of which Cole hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Above the dance floor was a balcony reserved for VIPs. Among them, leaning over the rail, was none other than the owner Travis, scrutinizing the dance floor in an all-too-similar fashion to Cole. Cole was certain they were both searching for the same target, albeit for very different reasons. There were plenty of women on the dance floor, though most of them didn’t stand out as supermodel material like the vanished women. All seemed to be accompanied by someone, usually a man, probably their significant other or soon-to-be one night stand. Then Cole saw her. .
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