CaughtThe night was silent and hushed like it has witnessed the death of its daughter daylight. Everywhere was dark to the full without the moon’s light, the chirping crickets reduced their ringing sopranos to mild altos, the choir of frogs harmonized their refrain into a low organized hum, the nocturnal owl slept peacefully and uniform quietness governed the night.
I pondered on this unusual quietness as I treaded the street of Awolowo with my latest sienna model. This street has been my favorite hiding place after the first few years of my marriage but why would one be hiding from his own matrimonial home? I recalled the first few months of my marriage; how I had worshipped my wife adorably like a roman goddess, how I had always returned home immediately after the close of work just to behold my wife’s radiant beauty, how I had always wanted to avoid work just to stay in bed with my wife all day long, the many nights of endless pleasures we had and I shook my head at my foolery. I pictured my wife as she was after our second baby; her flabby breast, her shrunken and broken lips, her plank-like and unappetizing butt and many of her deficiencies, a feeling of disgust and irritation washed over me. I wondered how in heavens I had been attracted to such a thing. What could ever make a man marry such a woman? Perhaps she is the punishment for my sins. I was nursing my regret and mistake in marrying my wife when I saw a figure from my mirror. Awolowo Street is notorious for such figures that prefer to call themselves commercial sex workers and they are the kind of things that would make a man hide from his matrimonial home. Since my six years of being a patron to Awolowo Street, I have never encountered such figure. She was blessed heavily with everything my wife was lacking. Her breast unlike my flat-chested wife was full to the fullest and stood erect like the edge of an arrow. The low cut little blouse she was wearing revealed just a little of the treasure hidden beneath it, tempting and inviting excavators and diggers like myself for exploration. Her lips though a bit shadowy as I was far from her was succulent and luscious like an over-riped strawberry. Her racy red lipstick brought the glory of the lips out and she lashed her tongue out seductively and tentatively as if she knew I was devouring her from my car. Her lips so chubby and cute made me remember the feel of teats on my tongue. Her sagging butts were something else. The mere sight of them could even arouse a religious. Her hips connected with her butts in a perfect concord and made a tantalizing fusion of sorts. The mini skirt she was wearing blended with her oval hips, cut across her attractive laps and displayed too much than necessary. I felt the first stream of semen drip down my laps from my junior as I was engulfed with lust. I fantasized of her moans of ecstasy and how she will handle my strokes when I finally get her down my hotel suite. I watched as she tartly moved her protruding and well designed butt in accordance with the rhythm of an unheard music as the left butt inflated and deflated seductively. My foot matched quickly the accelerator without my consent and the car moved of its own accord. Seconds later, I dimmed my light and lowered my window. “Hello damsel,” I smiled seductively as I honked. “Can I have this night?” “Sure Chris,” the figure who happened to be my wife with her make ups and pad-ups said to me. “I heard you patronize this street a lot so I came to see for myself.”
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