Yemisi was tired. She had just seen off the last of the guests and she was looking forward to settling down on the sofa and sipping hot chocolate while catching up with the latest episode of game of thrones before retiring for the night. She had one more task to do, and she headed towards the dryer to check the clothes she had put in earlier. Then she headed towards the guest room to deliver them to the owner.
She knocked and when she didn’t hear a response, turned the knob gently, a little worried. The door opened noiselessly and she walked in cautiously. She saw why he didn’t respond, he was fast asleep.
She stood watching him. The soft rise and fall of his chest, and how innocent and vulnerable he looked. She moved toward the chair and folded the clothes neatly. Without thinking, she climbed into the bed, and curled up beside him, her head on his chest.
His eyes fluttered open and he turned to look at her, his brow creasing in a frown.
“You fell asleep” she said softly “and you looked so cute.” Her hands were playing with the tufts of hair on his chest, drawing circles around his nipples and slowly traveling downwards to his navel, to the ridges of the white towel wrapped around his waist.
His hand stopped hers. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she wanted at that point. She wasn’t thinking, just feeling. And it felt good. She felt heady, knowing that what she was doing was driving him wild. Although, he was lying still, and his voice casual, she knew otherwise. The chaotic beats of his heart betrayed him.
She had always known that it would be hard keeping her hands to herself whenever she eventually met him, and when he had been late for Tara’s birthday party, a part of her had been glad that he didn’t come.
But then, he had showed up thirty minutes ago. She had gone to answer the door bell, and when she opened the door, he had been standing there – drenched from head to toe, in a navy blue V necked T-shirt clinging to his body and outlining every curve and bulge, over black skin tight jeans and black loafers – and her heart had lurched.
She had invited him to her daughter’s seventh birthday party on a whim. She had regretted it immediately, but she couldn’t un-invite him. For the past week, she had been alternating between fear and apprehension and excitement at seeing him. The rational part of her knew it was bad, having him over. She had a huge crush on him, and had spent countless hours over the past six months just staring at his pictures – his profile pictures which she had saved on her phone – and fantasizing about doing naughty things to him. Her wanton side – a side of her which she hadn’t known existed till meeting him – however had been excited and looking forward to stolen moments alone with him at the party, and had imagined several images of what could happen in three short minutes alone.
When her hand moved under his, there was no uncertainty about her movement. Her hand found the knot of the towel around his waist, and she deftly untied them. If she had any doubt about his response to her before, she had none now, as she glimpsed the unmistakable evidence.
She took him in her hand, and worked her way down the length of him, then squeezed gently. He arched his back and moaned softly.
Suddenly, she was in another place. A place she had often visited in her head, where it was just her and him, with the crashing sound of a waterfall providing a background symphony to which they were swaying to. She was in another time. A time when she was adventurous and free, before demands of life made her dull and predictable; a time when she gave blowjobs at the backseat of a car.
She was that Yemisi again now, as she took him in her mouth and ran her tongue all over him, not minding the sloppy sounds, driven on by the low throaty sounds coming from beneath her. She was wanton, and wild, and driving him wild with her. This was what she had imagined. No, this was wilder than her imaginations. He knew what she wanted, the need to be in control, and he allowed her to take charge, and that excited her more till she couldn’t bear the need for more.
In one fluid motion, she straightened her back, raised her gown to her waist, drew aside her panties and took him in. He felt strangely familiar within her, and she felt complete; she had found home. She became a cowgirl, riding wild and free across the expanse of the grassy plains. She trotted, then increased to a canter and soon was galloping, with the wind blowing wildly in her face and her head tilted backwards soaking in the waves of pleasure. She galloped till she reached the edge of a cliff and with a squeal galloped all the way down. She collapsed on him, panting, sated, and with a delicious ache in her groin.
Reality came crashing in, wearing a Mickey-mouse pajamas, face glued to a Samsung galaxy S5 phone and talking animatedly
“Mummy, daddy is on the phone, and he wants to talk to you”