I heard the clank of plates and saw Jumoke over by the sink on the other side of the room. Her back turned to me as she scrubbed the dishes. She was wearing her long black hair, her round ass covered by a pair of old trousers, top a faded blue n t-shirt.
Those feet that I saw curling last night were wearing slippers. Now that she was standing, I realized Jumoke had nice flared hips on her slinky, slender body.
I stood there wordlessly, devouring our maid with my eyes. As I did, she noticed me standing there again, glancing nervously to see me from the corner of her eye, loose locks framing her pretty face. Jumoke stiffened when she saw who it was, then immediately turned back to the dishes, trying to ignore me.
I drifted closer, so I was only about two feet away. Jumoke was shorter than me, the top of her head coming up just to my chin. I didn’t dare do anything with my parents in the next room, even though I wanted her badly.
Jumoke felt me approach and stopped washing, the sink running as we just stood there silently. Tension and awkwardness were thick in the air, with only Tupac’s “Temptation” crackling from my headphones to fill the gap:
‘See you walkin’ and you lookin good, yes indeed.
Got a body like a sex fiend, you’re killin’ me…’
I could see Jumoke’s body trembling up close as I stood there, her stupidly holding a plate in her hands, frozen in place.
“You no bin tell,” she murmured in her heavy accent. “Last night, it no bin happen.”
She started obsessively cleaning the plates again with a jarring clank, not looking at me. Her voice was tiny, pleading.
“Abeg, no tell Sir or Madaam.”
‘Sir-madaam’ were my parents, obviously. I didn’t say anything; just took in Jumoke’s air. She smelled a little like that sweet sweat from last night, cheap body wash and shampoo. I started to lean in more, but I stopped when I heard a yell from the other room.
“Chizi, the bus is here!” my mom nagged. “Jumoke, hurry up in there and clean the table.”
I tore myself away from our maid and jammed my fists into my pockets, stomping out to the room where my backpack was waiting. I put my headphones back in and climbed into the bus, frustrated as hell.
‘ You’re lonely and depressed you need a Thug in your life.
Enough talkin, you want me to leave, I’ll get to walkin
See you later, ’cause baby, I’m a player, and all I heard was…’
***
School was an exercise in boredom and tolerance in extremes. The day was a daze that I zombie-walked through, dragging on as I kept staring at the clock for the day to be over.
At lunch in the cafeteria, my friends were talking about girls again. I asked what they thought about house helps.
“Most of them are fucking machines!” one of my friends laughed. “They’re crazy about rich dick, yo. Too bad most of them are butt-ugly.,” he said. “What, you got a thing for them?”
I kind of smiled half-heartedly at that, shaking my head.
“No, not really.”
“Yeah, right on…”
I was thinking about what to do with Jumoke the entire day. My parents were usually out till seven at night, so it would be just her and me for a few hours after school. I didn’t know what would happen, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to be a pussy this time.
I lay back in my seat as the school bus puttered home after a long day, sitting in the back, my dick hard as hell. I felt like a live wire of sexual excitement. It was all so new, so weird, but I was determined this time to get what I wanted.
I consoled myself that this wasn’t like one of the snobby rich chicks that had rejected me. This was a househelp, someone who was going to lose their job if they refused me. It sounded shitty, but somehow that kind of control turned me on even more.
I stepped off the bus and unlocked the gate, already looking for Jumoke. I dropped off my bag and kicked off my sandals, unhurried as I started my search. Cold, electric excitement snapped in my chest and my throat as I walked through the house. I felt like a wolf going after an unsuspecting mate.
I found Jumoke in the upstairs guest bedroom, one that my father had converted into a library and my mom had then repurposed for an exercise room. The elliptical and old lady weights in one corner and the big desk and sumptuous leather chairs in the other were a perfect commentary on the state of their shitty marriage. Our maid was dusting the glass bookshelf, her cleaning tools in a bucket down by her feet.
I could hear my footsteps approach, and so could she, but I could tell that Jumoke was trying to pretend she didn’t. She was trying to ignore me again, hoping that this would just go away. But it wouldn’t. Not after I saw what a wanton slut she was last night.
My cock was hard as ever, straining against my khakis as I walked up behind her, only inches away this time. My heart was pounding hard as I stood there, saying nothing. I didn’t want to break the strange sexual spell with words. I didn’t think about the trouble I could get in pursuing this. I just knew I wanted her.
Don’t be a fucking loser. Don’t be a pussy.
After a few long moments, I reached out my hand to touch her side. Jumoke stiffened immediately at the feel of my palm and fingers but didn’t do anything other than freeze and stop cleaning, letting her arms drop to her sides.
She said nothing.
Emboldened, I put my other hand on her other side and began to caress slowly. I stroked gently upwards along her ribs to right below her breasts, then back down.
Still nothing.
I could see Jumoke in the reflection of the glass, closing her eyes tight.
“Relax…” I whispered softly, kind of in a murmur, kind of tender too.
I could feel her untense just a little as I continued to run my hands over her sides, then down to her hips. I might have been a little clumsy, but I was gentle. I held Jumoke’s hips firmly as I moved forwards closer, inexorably pressing myself against her perfectly rounded ass to grind, letting her feel the size, firmness, and strength of my covered cock. It was all very primal in my lust-filled brain. This was what I could offer. This was my dominance over her.
Jumoke stiffened again, and the duster fell from her fingers as she felt my big penis press against her backside, but then relaxed soon after as I started to calmingly pet her sides again, gently but firmly – I wasn’t going to allow her to move away.
She didn’t. She just stood there and let me.
I could feel my covered cock pulse against the rounded swell of her ass, pressing between her cheeks and legs. I knew part of it was wedged against her pussy too. My breath quickened as I grew even bolder, starting to grind my package slow and regular against her.
I moved my hands more confidently now, under the hem of her shirt to touch her warm, smooth chocolate skin, caressing my hands possessively over her toned stomach, which I was more and more certain would bear my young very soon.
I moved one hand up over her ribs to squeeze a large, supple bra-covered breast, then moved across to knead the other under her shirt, my other arm across her stomach with a steady grip on her thigh.
My heart was pounding with pure lust, hips gyrating, deep, slow grinding of my cock against Jumoke’s ass and sex. My dick felt like it was going to rip out of my trousers. Her breathing was harder and faster. I leaned in towards her neck, feeling powerful and in control over a woman for the first time in my young life.
I took in her sweet smell, bold enough to press my lips to the hot skin of her neck. Jumoke trembled as I kissed her skin more deeply, savouring the taste, letting out a little whimper as I squeezed her breast again. Harder.
I was starting to feel the heat from her pussy as I ground into her, and it just made me start to thrust harder, like I was gently, deeply fucking her, pressing my chest into her back and pushing her towards the glass case.
Jumoke gave a startled cry as she pressed her palms up against the bookshelf door from my forcefulness, and I could see her face in the reflection, eyes shut tight, bottom lip bit – I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or fear, or revulsion, or a mix of all three.
This was it. I was going to fuck her.
I removed my hand from her shirt and started pulling it up from the back, one hand holding her hip as the other started fumbling with the bra strap. I had to stop as I faltered, using both hands to work the annoying clasp. When I faltered and finally got it open, the spell was broken again.
Jumoke pushed me away, wheeling to stare at me accusingly, dark eyes full of fright and conflict. She glared at me with that same expression I had seen last night, scrunching her exotic features in submissive outrage.
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