₦airaland Forum

Laniyi was not a man who had much time for pre-intimacy. . There was no time to waste.

“You no go use rubber?” she asked.

“What? Oh, that. Maybe another time.”

It was the second time he would be doing it with her. Like the first time, he did not use any protection. She allowed him to have his way.

* * *

It was a humid Saturday evening in Lagos. The kind of evening that wrapped the air in a lazy heat and made everything feel a little slower, a little more charged.

Femi had just returned from a five-day official trip to Ibadan, his body weary but his mind restless. He stepped into his modest self-contained apartment in Ijaiye — one bedroom, a parlor, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom — the space that had come to represent his solitude, his choices, and his complicated love life.

As he dropped his overnight bag near the door and stretched his limbs with a grunt of relief, he muttered a quiet prayer of thanks for journey mercies. Another trip complete. Another paycheck earned.

At thirty-eight, Femi was still single — not for lack of women, but for the haunting abundance of them. He’d had more than his fair share of options: classy women, quiet women, spiritual women, sensual women. But none had managed to anchor him.

Commitment for him wasn’t a lack of desire — it was a fear of choosing wrong, of waking up one morning to regret. And so, he floated. Comfortable in his uncertainty.

But recently, Amanda had changed something in him. Or so he thought.

He changed into a pair of boxers and stepped into the bathroom, letting the cold water sluice over his tired body. As he washed, he thought of her — Amanda. Elegant, charming, with that soft voice that could melt his resistance.

They had met at a mutual friend’s birthday party three months ago, and since then, she’d begun to fill the void in his life with her presence, her laughter, and her late-night calls.

She knew he was returning today, and she had promised to come over. He smiled at the thought of her walking in soon, maybe with a bottle of wine or that mischievous look she sometimes wore when she was feeling bold.

He clenched his fists. Frustration gnawed at his nerves. Time was slipping through his fingers. How long could he wait? Would he risk it? Could he?

His heart pounded. Somewhere behind those walls, Emem was waiting.

And outside that house, a storm was brewing — one that neither he nor Femi nor Amanda could escape. He went back to sleep. About an hour later, he woke up again. He watched as Missi slept and snored.

He tiptoed to the staircase again. This time, there was no sound from the sitting room. Good, he thought. Stealthily, he climbed the stairs down and went to her room. He turned the knob and it opened. He had earlier told Emem he would be coming and she should not lock the door.

He entered her room and closed the door gently behind him. Emem was sleeping on her bed, oblivious of his presence. She was in the night gown given to her by madam. Seeing her body increased his heart-beat. He gently tapped her on the lap. She woke up and looked at him dreamingly.

“Oga, you don come?” she asked unnecessarily as she yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Sh-sh-sh!” He had to hush her. He wondered why she sometimes asked redundant question.

“Of course, I don come. I’m here.”

For some seconds, he was as still as an effigy. Then he quickly pulled away.

"Eunice! You shouldn't have done that!"

I smiled what looked like an innocent one. "Why not, daddy?"

"Because I'm your father."

"But…"

"No but. It's a taboo."

He could see the hurt on my face. "But we could hug," he added.

I felt warm a bit and spread out my arms to hug him. Feeling his body against mine made warmth radiate all over my body. So, I held him tighter, pressing my boobss against him body.

He slowly pulled away, his expression softening but still distant. “It’s okay, Eunice,” he said quietly, almost as if reassuring himself more than me. “I think that’s alright for now.”

Despite the sting of his words, a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I didn’t want to show how much it hurt inside. “Alright, daddy,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

He returned my smile, a warm but somewhat restrained one, and said gently, “Goodnight, my beautiful girl.”

His words made a small warmth spread across my cheeks, a brief comfort in the coolness of the moment. “Goodnight, Dad,” I replied softly.

I turned and walked out of his room, heading toward my own. But as I closed the door behind me, a swirl of confusion and sadness settled in my chest. Why was Daddy so rigid? Why did he seem so distant and unresponsive to my simple gesture of love? What was this talk about something being “taboo”?

Why was it that someone like me—old enough to understand and express my feelings—was somehow not allowed to show affection in the way I wanted? Why did people insist on putting a stigma on something so natural and heartfelt?

The questions raced through my mind, unanswered, as I lay down in my bed, feeling a little more alone than before.

I had just turned eighteen. Officially an adult now, but somehow I still felt like a kid caught between childhood and the unknown. Dad had always been my rock—steady, reliable, and completely devoted to me. At forty-seven, he worked hard as an engineer, always focused and determined. After Mom died, he never even thought about remarrying. It was like I became his whole world, and he poured every ounce of his love and attention into raising me alone.

We were close, but there were lines we never crossed, invisible walls that kept certain things unspoken. I carried a secret inside me—a desire I barely understood but couldn’t ignore. Whenever I tried to say it out loud, Dad would shut me down, telling me it was “taboo.” That word stuck with me, like a warning sign I wasn’t supposed to ignore.

I thought I loved Dad more than anyone else in the world. At least, that’s what I told myself.

But sometimes, I couldn’t help wondering if what I felt was something different—something deeper and more complicated than just love.

I questioned everything I’d been taught about what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to feelings. Was it really so wrong to want to express how I felt? Why did people have to put such a heavy stigma on something that felt so natural inside me?

Here we go again.

You are most welcome.




Behind Closed Doors





Love can be as intoxicating as the sweetest wine — warm, dizzying, and almost divine in its hold. But just as swiftly, that sweetness can sour, curdling into bitterness so sharp it cuts to the bone. Femi and Amanda were on the brink of something profound, something destined to change them both — until another woman appeared, shattering the delicate balance they had built. Her arrival was no accident, and her intentions were anything but innocent.

Amanda, fierce and unyielding, wasn’t the kind of woman to back down without a fight. Her love, once tender, now burned with the fury of betrayal. She could feel something slipping from her fingers — something she believed belonged to her — and she would rather scorch the earth than let it go. But the interloper wasn’t someone who understood the meaning of surrender either. She too had fire in her veins, and she played for keeps.

Caught between two raging storms was Femi, whose indecision and recklessness had lit the match that started this emotional inferno. The consequences of his weakness were inevitable. He would be the one to pay the highest price, not with money or apologies — but with the kind of pain that lingers long after the bruises fade and the tears dry up.

Elsewhere, in another corner of this tangled web, Esther had returned home for a brief two-week break following the end of her first semester at the University of Ibadan. Her presence in the house was a disturbance — a seemingly harmless disruption that masked far-reaching consequences. She had been there for only four days, yet her casual lounging and endless hours on social media had thrown a wrench into Laniyi’s carefully laid plans.

Esther loved the luxury of doing nothing — stretched across the couch, flipping between romantic drama series, chatting idly with friends, giggling on the phone, hosting brief visits like a social queen. But Laniyi had plans — plans that needed the cover of night, secrecy, and above all, privacy.

His heart beat with anticipation and a touch of desperation. Tonight, he had promised himself, he would visit Emem. He needed to see her, to touch her, to lose himself in the silence they carved out for themselves while the world slept. He should have been with her already. But Esther, ever the night owl, was still glued to the television, her favorite shows casting flickering shadows across the sitting room.

And therein lay the problem: Emem’s room was adjacent to the sitting room. Any movement, any noise, could expose them. Esther’s presence wasn’t just inconvenient — it was dangerous.

The night deepened, cloaked in thick silence, the kind that feels heavy on the skin. When the clock struck half past midnight, Laniyi crept toward the staircase, each step a calculated risk. He halted at the edge, ears straining.

The television was still on — the murmuring dialogue of a romantic soap drifting through the air. Esther was still there, oblivious, her laughter occasionally breaking through the quiet like a discordant bell.

The day stretched ahead like a promise. My heart felt full, and yet… tinged with something electric. A charge in the air. Like something was changing. Like something was just beginning.


---



Alone in my room late that evening, I sat quietly, thinking about life. About how far we’d come—Dad and me. He had been everything. Steady. Strong. Present. I felt an urge to show him just how much I appreciated all of it.

I got up and walked to his room, knocking gently on the door.

“Yes, come in,” he said.

He was sitting on his bed, eyes fixed on his laptop. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“Hello, Eunice.”

“Hi, Dad,” I said, walking over and sitting beside him.

“I just... I wanted to say thank you. For today. For everything. For all the years.”

He closed the laptop and gave me his full attention.

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he said. “You’re my daughter. It’s my joy to be your dad.”

I leaned into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me gently, and for a moment, we just sat like that—quiet, safe.

Then, I did something he wasn't expecting. I kissed him fully on the month. For some seconds, he was as still as an effigy. Then he quickly pulled away.

Taboo


Eunice is a beautiful girl who has just blossomed into a lady. She's a lady in love - deeply in love. Now, it is time to show her love to the beloved.

But there's a big snag.

The person she's in love with is her father, Richard. Intrigues follow, and every action has its consequence.

Caution: The story contains sexually explicit contents.







A few minutes before one a.m., I stirred awake, nudged from my dreams by that familiar pressure in my bladder. The house was silent, cloaked in the heavy stillness of deep night, broken only by the soft hum of the ceiling fan spinning above my bed. Still half-asleep, I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, the cold tile floor chilling my toes as I padded barefoot to the bathroom.

The faint golden light from the corridor guided me there and back like a whisper from the dark. I crawled back into bed, pulling the blanket up over my legs, ready to slip back into sleep.

But something tugged at my thoughts, something quiet and profound, as if the night itself wanted me to remember. I blinked into the shadows. Then it hit me.

Today was my birthday. My eighteenth birthday.

I sat up, fully now. The realization washed over me—not in a loud, celebratory way, but like a gentle wave at dawn, nudging the shore. Eighteen. The number felt heavy, significant, like a key turning in a lock.

Without thinking, I rose from bed again and walked across the room to the full-length mirror leaning against the far wall. My nightlight glowed softly from the corner, throwing shifting shadows across my reflection. I stood there, looking at myself—really looking.

My face was pale in the dim light, framed by loose strands of sleep-tousled hair. My eyes, still heavy-lidded from sleep, seemed darker, more mysterious. But it was my body that held my gaze. It was subtle, but unmistakable—the curves, the posture, the maturity settling into my frame. I was growing into the woman I had only glimpsed in bits and pieces before.

I touched the edge of the mirror lightly, as if to steady myself against the magnitude of the moment. I had never thought of myself as particularly beautiful, but tonight—this quiet, sacred hour—I saw something new. Not just beauty, but presence. A soft kind of power. A silent confidence I hadn’t noticed before.

A smile curled on my lips. This was it. This was the beginning of everything.

I was eighteen.


---

Later that morning, the day unfolded slowly, warmly. The sun filtered through the curtains in golden slats, casting a honeyed glow across my bedroom. The house was quiet, familiar, safe. It had always been that way—our little sanctuary, just the two of us.

Dad had taken the day off. It was Saturday, and he didn’t even pretend to have errands or work calls. He stayed indoors, puttering around in his soft cotton tee and jeans, humming quietly to himself in the kitchen. I could tell he wanted to make the day special—not with noise or guests, but in his own quiet, thoughtful way.

“Happy birthday, Eunice,” he said gently, emerging from the kitchen with a soft smile on his face. “Happy birthday, baby girl. You’re a big girl now.”

His voice carried something more than words—pride, love, and something a little harder to define, something weightier.

“Thank you, Dad,” I replied, my voice warm, steady. Our eyes met, and in that moment I saw everything he felt. Everything he’d held back all these years. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box, the paper silver and neatly folded.

My heart skipped. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” he said simply.

I tore the paper gently, revealing a brand-new iPhone—sleek, elegant, gleaming like it had been chosen with care. I blinked in disbelief.

“Dad… this is too much.”

He shook his head. “You deserve it, Eunice. You deserve more than I can give. But this… this is just a small piece of what I feel for you.”

I held the phone in my hand, but it wasn’t the device that mattered. It was the gesture, the thought behind it. It was the way he’d watched me grow, shaped me with every act of kindness, every meal cooked, every story told before bed.

He had been my anchor. My only parent since Mum died when I was twelve. From that moment on, it had been just the two of us. No stepmothers, no distractions. He had never remarried, never even brought another woman home.

“I wanted to focus all my love on you,” he once said, and I had believed him. Not because he said it, but because he lived it. Every single day.

And now, here we were—on the cusp of a new chapter. Eighteen.

The day stretched ahead like a promise. My heart felt full, and yet… tinged with something electric. A charge in the air. Like something was changing. Like something was just beginning.

I lifted her spaghetti top and unhooked the pink bra. As I suspected, her boobs were of average size. She must have done some job on them because they looked quite firm; firmer than what a woman of her age should have on her chest.

The kissing continued. I had full access to the boobs now. They felt soft in my hands. She moved to the bed and I followed her. We sat on the bed and continued the kissing game, if you could call it a game. To her it might be a game, but to me, it was more of a task.

She smiled at me. 'Wow, you're a real professional.'

I smiled back. 'Are you okay now?'

She nodded, stood up and opened one of the wardrobes.

'That will be all for now,' she said and put on a sexy satin night wear. I took a cue again and wore my boxer. My prick was still erect, but it appeared she had no business with that. That organ was going to be mightily disappointed.

She came to lie on her belly on the bed.

'Come and rub my back,' she said. I nodded, pulled the satin top up to her chest and started rubbing the back. I combined rubbing with massaging and caressing. She closed her eyes. After some minutes, she slept off. I stopped what I was doing and stared at her. Was that all I would be doing - kissing, caressing, sucking and rubbing? Was that all that would be my task? I sighed and shrugged. If that was all that she wanted, then no qualms.

I lay by her side and soon slept off too. I was awakened some hours later by her soft hand which tapped on my shoulder. The clock in the large bedroom showed the time to be some minutes to one in the morning. I opened my eyes dreamily, wondering where I was and who the woman by my side was. But, it was only momentary. In a jiffy, I remembered that I was with Ms. Biola Amigos and that I was on a special assignment.


READ FULL STORY

She resigned herself to sitting where I had placed her to sit. She took one of the toasted bread. I took one too with my right hand while my second hand wrapped her waist.

'I don't like the way you're treating me,' she while munching the food. I was surprised to hear that. 'How was I treating you?'

She paused as if considering how best to answer the question. I rubbed her waist.

'Come on, how am I treating you?'

'You're treating me like a baby.'

Kike was twenty. According to her, she had done her SSCE about three years ago and her reason for coming to do housemaid job was to work for
a year in order to raise some money. My mum had promised to be of assistance if she behaved well.

Now, sitting on my lap, I believed she had behaved well enough to get whatever help mum wanted to give her.

'How am I treating you like a child?' I asked.

She didn't say a thing for many seconds. 'Because you brought a lady to your room.'

Now, I understood. I chuckled.

'That is it,' Kike said. 'You treated her like a lady, but treat me like a girl.'


I sighed and took some tea, bidding my time before I replied her. I knew what she was driving at but pretended not to.

'You need to tell me exactly what you mean,' I said.

'As a man, you should know,' she said.

I chuckled again. 'Okay. Since you won't tell me, I'll try to know.'

We ate in silence thereafter. I had refrained from going beyond handling her breasts for reasons not very clear to me. Kike was not like an
average house maid/house girl. She was neat and presentable. Although she had a petite figure, she was busty. That was what attracted her to
me in the first place. I loved ladies that were well-endowed. Now, with her accusation, I had to take a step further in the relationship, but I must
be very careful. All the same, it appeared I was hesitant about taking a step further.

After the meal, she cleared the plates and took them to the kitchen downstairs. A couple of minutes later, she was back. I could see that she
had changed clothes. She was now braless and was clad in spaghetti top and mini skirt. That way, she looked very sexy.

She stood at the doorway. ‘Are you still going to treat me like a girl, or you are ready to treat me like a lady?’ she asked, smiling.

I smiled too. ‘Come on, henceforth, I’ll treat you like a lady.’

She continued her smile, but remained at the doorway.

‘Please, come in,’ I said. ‘You’re welcome.’

Her smile became expansive as she moved inside. I stood up to meet her mid-way.

‘You’re looking gorgeous,’ I said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Besides, the fact is you’re very pretty.’

‘Hmn, hmn.’

I held her by the waist. On an impulse, I kissed her fully on the waiting lips. My hands moved from her waist to the jaunty boobs. She responded
like somebody starving from that treatment. Surely, I had a handful of things to do.

After minutes of kissing and handling, I went a step further by moving my right hand to the mini skirt. I zipped it down and pulled it down. I wasn’t
surprised she was pantie-less, for that would have constituted an encumbrance in a situation like this. I removed my clothing too.

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I’m a virgin.’

I was surprised. Was that really true or was she just laying claim to that? ‘Are you serious?’

She nodded. I didn’t believe her but I didn’t say anything further. I lay her on the bed, spread her legs and got down to the real coital act with
her. To my surprise, she was indeed a virgin. At twenty?

That was a rare case. I tried to be gentle with her and she replicated the act by tightly holding me as if that would ensure maximum delight. Several minutes later, we concluded our adventure. I could not really tell if I enjoyed it with her or not, but somehow, being the first time I would experience such, I felt Kike was unique among others.

She cleaned up.

‘You will need to buy some blood tonic to replace the blood you’ve lost,’ I said. ‘Let me give you money for the tonic.’

I knew she didn’t need any tonic, but I needed a reason to give her money.

I rolled some one thousand naira bills and gave them to her.

‘Thank you very much,’ she said.

‘It’s okay. Take care of yourself.’

Thumb up.

The line was disconnected.

'Is that your girlfriend?' Ms. Amigos asked.

'No. She's my Assistant in the office.'

She nodded as if the answer I gave her was the one she expected.

We remained in the living-room until few minutes past nine.

'Alright, let's go to the bedroom.' She stood up and used the remote control to switched off the television. She switched off the split air-conditioner too. I followed her upstairs. We went to the last room to the right, her bed-room. She certainly lived big. The bedroom was big too.

She wasn't a careless dresser as I could see no cloth carelessly left on the bed or thrown somewhere. There were up to four closed wardrobes
and I imagined they were full of clothes and ladies' accessories. A fashionable woman like her would clothes and wears in abundance.

'Here, we are,' she said.

Here, my work would start, I thought.

I removed my shoes and socks, tucking the socks inside the shoes.

There was a small rechargeable radio and MP4 player on a stool by the bedside. She put it on and played the music via the memory card. It was
cool R & B music.

I tucked out my shirt and waited. She came to stand before me.

'Alright,' she said. 'Handle me lovingly the way you've never handled a lady before.'

I grinned. 'That will be no problem. I'll do it with all pleasure.'

She put her hands at akimbo. 'Well, go ahead.'

'Okay, baby. As you like.'

I drew her to myself and kissed her lips. They yielded easily to my ravenous lips. Then, I slowed down. She probably liked it easy and slow. My hands went to her boobs and I cuddled them. Just the previous day, I was introduced to this woman. If anyone had told me that within forty-eight hours, I would handle the breasts of this society lady, I would dispute it. Here I was, doing exactly that, and with relish.

I lifted her spaghetti top and unhooked the pink bra. As I suspected, her boobs were of average size. She must have done some job on them because they looked quite firm; firmer than what a woman of her age should have on her chest.

The kissing continued. I had full access to the boobs now. They felt soft in my hands. She moved to the bed and I followed her. We sat on the bed and continued the kissing game, if you could call it a game. To her it might be a game, but to me, it was more of a task.







READ FULL STORY: https://selar.co/1826nd

From kissing, the involvement got to removing her pink top and the peach bra. Her boobs were moderate and well-rounded. I kissed, teased and sucked them. They became hard against the stimuli.

The full action commenced in earnest. We changed the style three times before climaxing. Later, when she was about to go, I gave her money for transport. It was much more that what she could pay for transportation, even if she rented a limo, but it was very convenient for me to tag it 'transportation fares'.

'Thank you, very much, Henry', she said. I accompanied her to the gate, waved her off and returned to the house.

'Kike,' I called the house maid.

She answered from her room, which was downstairs.

'What breakfast did you prepare?' I asked as soon as she came to sight.

'I'm yet to prepare any breakfast.'

'Get me toasted bread and beverages,' I told her.

'Okay.'

I went back upstairs to my room. The video was still playing, this time around another erotic movie. I let it be and lie on the bed. Now that my
ache had gone, I ought to go to work. The problem was I had no urge for work that day.

Several minutes later, Kike brought a tray of food inside. My breakfast was ready. She set the tray on a stool beside the bed. I sat up on the bed and drew the stool close to me.

'Have you eaten?' I asked her as I poured some tea from the jug to the mug.

'I'll eat when I get downstairs,' she replied.

I grinned. 'Why don't you join me?'

She smiled but did not say a thing. I had often played with her when nobody was around, or when we were together alone. It was the kind of
play people would see as 'extreme'.

And what kind of play was that? I played with her boobs. I had never had sex with her (well, that meant I still had some decency), but I had fondled her breasts on some occasions. Why I was crazy about breasts in particular and sex in general was something inexplicable to me. Kike
was our housemaid, yes, but I enjoyed teasing her nipples.

She was still hesitant. I pulled her to myself and placed her on my lap. I tried to imagine my mother barging in and seeing her sitting on my legs. I grinned at the thought. I would simply say I was playing with her.

She resigned herself to sitting where I had placed her to sit. She took one of the toasted bread. I took one too with my right hand while my
second hand wrapped her waist.

'I don't like the way you're treating me,' she said while munching the food. I was surprised to hear that. 'How was I treating you?'

She paused as if considering how best to answer the question. I rubbed her waist.

'Come on, how am I treating you?'

'You're treating me like a baby.'

Kike was twenty. According to her, she had done her SSCE about three years ago and her reason for coming to do housemaid job was to work for a year in order to raise some money. My mum had promised to be of assistance if she behaved well.

Now, sitting on my lap, I believed she had behaved well enough to get whatever help mum wanted to give her.




You can get the full download @ https://selar.com/u95t66

I was brushing my teeth, preparatory to taking my bath, when a knock sounded on the bedroom door. With a towel tied at my waist, and the brush still in my mouth, I went to check who was knocking.

'Sorry, uncle,' Kike said. 'A lady is asking of you.'

'A lady? What's her name?'

'She said Florence.'

So fast? But then, I remembered that Maryland wasn't far from where I lived.

'Alright. Tell her to sit in the sitting-room downstairs. I'll soon be joining her.'

I went back to complete brushing my teeth, had my bath and wore jeans and t-shirt. I sprayed Hugo Boss perfume and went downstairs to meet
my guest.

'Hello, Florence,' I greeted. 'Sorry to keep you waiting.'

'Hi. It's okay.'

'Oh, please, what can I offer you?'

She shrugged. 'I'm okay for now.'

'Oh, no,' I said quickly. 'You're my guest and I should treat you right. Kike!'

'I'm coming,' Kike answered back.

I sat comfortably on the seat next to Florence. 'There's no way you'll come to my house and you'll not take anything.’

Kike soon came to the sitting-room.

'Get her something, for God's sake. Bring some juice in the fridge and a bottle of groundnuts.'

'Yes, uncle,' Kike answered and went to get the things I said she should get.

Unlike the previous night, I had a better view of Florence, now. She was a pretty one that should be in her early twenties.

'Sorry, I didn't get what you said you were into the other time,' I told her.

She smiled briefly. 'I said I'm a student.'

'At where, and what 're you studying?'

'At Uniben. I'm studying Accounting. We're at home courtesy of ASUU strike.'

I nodded. Nigerian students were always at the mercy of many extraneous forces.

Kike served her what I said she should be served.

'Get me a glass cup too', I told her.

Florence and I chatted over the drinks.

About twenty minutes later, I told her it was better we continued our conversation in my room upstairs. She seemed not to be averse to the
idea. I took her there.

'It's a nice room', she pointed out.

'Thank you.'

I switched on the flat screen, but was not interested in any of the channels. Rather, I inserted a flash to the flash drive. There were many
movies on the disk, but the one of interest to me was an erotic film.

There was a sofa in my room. That was where Florence sat, and that was where I sat too, close to her. We watched the movie in silence for a
while. I could see that it put the two of us in the expected mood. My left hand encompassed her shoulders. It was noteworthy that she neither
protested against my choice of movie nor my action of rubbing her shoulders.

The silence in the room continued, apart from the sound from the movie. I wasn't content with rubbing her shoulders. My right hand moved to her
chest and caressed the boobs. Then, we started the kissing game. I copied the action from the movie.

From kissing, the involvement got to
removing her pink top and the peach bra. Her boobs were moderate and well-rounded. I kissed, teased and sucked them. They became hard against the stimuli.






https://selar.com/u95t66