₦airaland Forum

Believe me, there is really nothing on ground to indicate that Obi will win the next Presidential election.

One of the things I d'ont like about parliamentary system is sudden resignation and change of government.

If this young woman was a maid than I really need to rethink where I live!

Without even thinking I followed her lead down the hallway. At the end of the hall was another room which was obviously the bathhouse. Instead of a wood floor, like the rest of the house, it had a polished concrete floor. On the far side of the room was a short stool sitting directly over a floor drain, and to the right was a large pool of steaming hot water. Upon entering the room Favor gestured to my left and said, “UnCloth here,” before continuing across the room into a smaller room. On the wall were several hooks for me to hang my clothes and a robe to the far right. While Favor was out of sight I quickly undressed and hung my clothes before wrapping the robe around me. As I tied the robe shut Favor came back into view carrying a metal bucket. But more notably was that the red long gown was now gone. It had been replaced by a large white towel which Favor had tucked together under he left arm. And to think, I thought I had a stiffy before! Now I had a full on, full length raging hard on!! Favor walked over to the stool and set the bucket down. Upon standing she gestured for me to come over and have a seat.

I am fully aware of the differences in cultures, and of the small nuances of everyday life, but I must admit to be taken back a little. I had not exactly planned on disrobing in front of someone else, much less a woman while I was sporting a huge erection. As I stepped across the floor she spoke again, “First we wash, then we bathe.” “WE”? What did she mean we? As I stopped next to the stool my question was answered. Favor immediately pulled her towel off and draped it over a small clothes rod attached to the wall just in front of the stool. When she turned back around to face me in all of her beautiful unclothedness a smile and a little laugh escaped from her lips. (my mouth was hanging open and my erection was sticking out through the two flaps of the robe)

“It’s ok,” she said softly as she reached out and began to untie my robe.

I just stood there like a deer in headlights as she pulled my robe off and hung it over the same clothes rod, my full 8 inch erection standing up proudly.

“Sit.” she said while gesturing to the stool and reaching for the bucket.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her while taking the seat. “I am not used to this.”

“It’s ok,” she replied while pulling a soapy sponge out of the bucket and began lathering my shoulders, “I’m not either.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her small breasts looked solid and firm with small dark nickel sized areolas and hard eraser nipples at their centers. Her skin was a smooth caramel color enveloping her gentle curves and toned legs. Her arms were toned and graceful with long delicate fingers and manicured nails. And her patch was a neatly trimmed forest of that same coal black hair on her head. She was, in my opinion, the most exquisite vision of female beauty I had ever seen. I could only sit and watch as she moved gracefully around me, washing every last inch from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. On occasion our eyes would meet and she would smile at me, especially when she began the drawn out process of washing my dick. Favor knelt in front of me and positioned herself between my legs. Holding my erection gently in her left hand she slowly lathered up my dick from top to bottom with the soapy sponge. When it was no longer visible, due to the suds, she placed the sponge back into the bucket and used both hands to stroke me from bottom to top. The feeling was indescribable! Her soft hands sliding up and down my shaft, which was more than adequately lubed with the soap, almost made me shoot my load all over the place. And she was very sure not to miss a spot. Stroking from top to bottom with a slow but firm stroke, she was quickly bringing me to the point of no return. When I started to tense up she stopped. Removing her hands from my engorged member.

Looking at me with a strange expression on her face Favor then said, “Now we rinse.”

Favor stood, raising the bucket over my head. As she stepped up to my side I could very distinctly smell her scent just before the remaining water was poured over me, washing all the suds onto the floor and toward the drain. It was a little cool, but it felt good. As I wiped the water from my eyes Favor stepped back into the small room and almost instantly returned with another buck of water. I watched her raise the bucket again and closed my eyes. The water was warmer this time, but without the sweet smell of the soap. As it cascaded over my body I felt really clean.

“Now we bathe,” she said and gestured toward the pool of steaming water.

Violence every day. Lord have mercy.

Nigeria has a long way to go. The same Atiku that brought American international university to Nigeria has gone abroad for a university degree.

Indeed, the pastor should be disowned.

Violence everywhere. The lord will have mercy.

Such is life. It is all vanity.

The bull should be given capital punshment.

OK.

Machina is facing evil machinations from political mercinary. Lord have mercy.

OK.

It is not a surprise. Politics is not for the pauper.

This is terrible. The violence in the world is alarming. In addition, black people are becoming endangered.

Hmm... such is life.

This is good development, but is overdue.

That is good. There should be no acrimony over religion.

Good day, my dear friends and readers, once again, this is another hot one.




The One So Hot








Frankie

Copyright 2022.



ONE

Uncle Daniel met me at the airport on the day of my arrival. It was good to see him again. As we drove to his home we chatted about the events in our lives since we last saw each other 5 years earlier when we graduated from Stanford. It was going to be nice having a familiar face around, not to mention a guide, and a place to stay for free even though money was not a factor. As we pulled into his driveway after a 30 minute drive I was already envious.

His house was beautiful. Sitting on what I guessed was about three quarters of an acre, his house and grounds looked like a picture postcard of what most Americans consider to be the traditional Paposian home. It had beautifully trimmed ornate trees, stone walkways, and a traditional dwelling with sweeping roof lines and carved accents. I was impressed. One day I hope to have something this nice.

After unloading from the car Uncle Daniel lead me to a smaller house located at the rear of the main house. “This is the guest house,” he said as he gestured toward the smaller building and bowing his head, “I hope it is acceptable.” My jaw dropped. It was equally as beautiful and ornate as the main house surrounded by an exquisite garden and a small pond with goldfish. “Uncle Daniel, my friend,” I said as I gave him a small pat on the shoulder, “You overwhelm me. This will be just fine,” and I returned his bow.

After removing our shoes at the front door we proceeded inside and Uncle Daniel gave me a quick tour. There was virtually no furniture at all. There were large pillows in a closet for sitting, and a rolled up mat for sleeping. There was, however, a desk and chair in the office which was equipped with a computer and printer, high speed internet, and a fax machine. And on the opposite wall was a big 50 inch plasma screen TV. Everything I needed.

“We will have dinner at 5,” Uncle Daniel explained as we walked back toward the front door, “but for now I imagine you might want some rest.” He was right. If you have ever flown to the Far East than you know what the jet lag is like. And seeing as how it was my middle of the night, I was really suffering. With a bow, Uncle Daniel excused himself and headed off toward the main house.

The only down side to traveling is putting you stuff away when you get to your destination. After a 13 hour flight and customs, you simply don’t feel like messing with anything, you just want to lie down and slip into a coma for about 10 hours. But in the business world, if you want to succeed, you have to pay attention to details. So with a quick and steady pace I was done. My clothes were hung up, brief case on the desk, and a change into leisure clothes laid out on the sleeping mat.

As I was finishing my task I heard a light shuffle near the door. I turned around and stood dumbfounded. There, at the door, was the most beautiful Paposian woman I had ever seen in my life. She was wearing a blood red long gown that was decorated with an embroidered peacock and bonsai trees. The waist was held together by a large white sachet tied in the back, and the edges of the garment in the front, and at the sleeves were trimmed with gold colored cloth. And on her feet were the traditional white house socks with the cut between the toes to allow for sandals. My god she was beautiful!

“I am Favor,” she said with a bow, “Your bath is ready.” Her accent was very thick, but her English was very understandable. She turned to her left and gestured toward the hall giving me a nice view of her profile. She was small, maybe 5 foot 3, and I guess about 105 pounds. Her small breasts were just barely distinguishable beneath her long gown as well as a small hump of her ass, but her features were all very proportionate. Her long black hair was pulled back into one big thick pony tail which hung down to her ass, contrasting remarkably against the ornate long gown. And her soft round face shone like a gem bordered by the black hair and red garment. “Thank you,” was all I was able to choke out while I gazed at the 20 something year old beauty with a stiffy starting to develop in my slacks. If this young woman was a maid than I really need to rethink where I live!


Source: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/the-one-so-hot/48920

R

This does not always be like this.

What a pity. Suicide should not be the option.

We are in a season of machinations and rumours.

Must everybody be a politician?

OK

Sorry o. Such is life.

This is like fiction story.

The world is full of violence these days.

Papa's words are deep in metaphors.

The last chance and the last card.

The Punch newspaper is right.