I peeled my shirt over my head, tossing it next to us. My large, natural breasts bounced naked into view. I felt the chilly air of Mr. Alabi’s apartment come in contact with my skin, goosebumping my flesh, and dampening my pussy.
My husband had no choice but to instinctively grab them, taking my heavy breasts into his mouth.
I ground my inflamed pussy down into Hakeem’s crotch, finding the stiffening member beneath his boxers. I used his modest length to stimulate my dampening intimacy, rubbing back and forth in excitement.
His eyes shot open in realization, and he reached up his hands to gently push me back, “Folake stop. Wait.”
I stopped my motion, looking down at him in concern, “What’s wrong?”
He was breathing heavily, and red faced, replying, “We- can’t do this here.”
“What do you mean?” I immediately felt the anger returning, fearing what he might suggest.
“It’s not, appropriate. What if, Mr. Alabi hears?”
I sat there for a miserable moment, atop my husband, topless, and nearly dumbfounded by his concern.
“You’re- you’re joking. Right?”
He began, “This is basically a work environme-”
I moved as fast as I ever had hopping off him, reaching for the shirt and stuffing my arms back into it.
“You’re a real fool, you know that right?” I wanted to scream, but I kept my tone under control, somehow.
“Folake-” He tried.
“I’m ovulating, you total, inconsiderate-” I, again somehow, stopped myself. An ashamed look swept across his face as he realized his mistake.
I continued, “It would be nice, Hakeem. Just once, if you would put your wife’s priorities ahead of your work.” I picked up a pillow, throwing it hard in his direction. He caught it, facial expression hinting at legitimate embarrassment. “Especially in the fucking bedroom.” I finished.
I awoke rather groggily, having tossed and turned all night. The springs and cabling from the pullout support had offered almost nothing in the way of rest.
I slowly sat up and reached for my phone, noting that it was already eight in the morning. The weather report started my day on the wrong foot, deflating me almost immediately. The flood hadn’t let up as anticipated and was still blanketing the entire county.
I shook my head, burying my face in my hands and subsequently wiping my eyes awake. The sound of Hakeem’s snores reached my ears and immediately encouraged me to get out of bed. I was still seething over my husband’s behaviour from the previous evening.
The bed wasn’t the only inhibitor to a good nights rest. Throughout the night there was a needful ache emanating from between my legs, and the man who should have quieted it had decided that wasn’t an option for him.
The memory of Hakeem’s shortsighted refusal angered me greatly. I decided it best to try and forget it, heading into the bathroom to freshen up.
I used what little make-up I had in my clutch to tidy my face, and brushed my teeth, eventually walking back into our makeshift bedroom. I looked for the trash bag that had my dress, and more importantly, my bra, crumbled within it. It was nowhere to be found, only Hakeem’s trousers and shirt were laid haphazardly over the side of the couch. I looked high and low, behind every nook and cranny, back in the bathroom. Where had it gone?
I hated that I had to speak with him, but I shook my husband awake nonetheless. “Hakeem, where is the bag that was by the door?”
He blinked his eyes open, confused. A moment passed, and he seemed to recall, “The trash bag? I dropped it somewhere while you were in the shower.”
I stood there, in awe of his absent-mindedness. He was likely on his phone last night, discussing work, and just went through the motions of disposing of some trash. He didn’t have the slightest inkling that he had dropped my clothes into the waste bin.
I was done fighting with him, done being mad. I didn’t even tell him my clothes were in that bag. I simply nodded and walked towards the door.
The delicious aroma of tea filled my nostrils upon walking out into the loft space. I knew that my breasts were readily visible beneath the thin cotton fabric of Oluchi’s shirt, but the last several hours had pushed me well beyond the point of caring.
Mr Alabi had already been in the habit of touching me, groping me with my husband’s seeming permission. Getting a look at the form of my breasts, beneath a shirt, was hardly pushing the envelope.
I saw him standing in the kitchen, his lower body concealed by the bar-height island counter. I noted that he was wearing his own snugly fitted tee, his large arms and broad shoulders moving as he stirred what looked to be an expensive champagne into some orange juice.
I also noted an incredible spread of salad, toast, fruit, breakfast meats, and tea, laid out across the marble countertop.
He turned, noticing me, smiling. “Good morning Folake.”
I was feeling suddenly in better spirits, and smiled back, “Good morning.” I paused, taking in the quantity of food on the table, adding, “Wow. This looks amazing Mr. Alabi.”
“It’s Saturday Folake, please.” He seemed to scold me. He pointed towards the tea, adding, “Grab some.”
“What do you mean, it’s Saturday?” I asked, picking the warm mug up off the table.
He replied, “You’re my guest, and it’s the weekend. Call me Alabi.”
I was taken aback by the gesture, both the food and the hospitality.
I couldn’t help but notice a certain sexiness about him as well. Alabi was always rugged, and commanding, but apparently, he was also a man capable of preparing a delicate meal, and it was an interesting realization.
I looked out the window towards the flooding wonderland below, rain rapidly falling. I was happy to take a sip of a hot beverage, which helped to cleanse my palette. The apartment was well-heated, but standing this close to a glass pane in an active rainstorm still caused me a little chill.
My nipples stiffened against the cotton of my shirt, and I was startled, remembering my state of undress.
“Did you sleep well?” He asked.
“Yes, thanks.” I lied, not wanting to complain.
He seemed to take in my body with is eyes, an impressed look on his face. He added, “You look even more beautiful just rolled out of bed.” Alabi smiled as he offered me a strong compliment.
It felt satisfying to have a handsome man offer me a compliment on the heels of my husband’s fumbling rejection.
I smiled wide, and playfully responded, “But you can tell I just rolled out of bed.” I paused, adding with sincerity, “Thank you Alabi” The first name would take some getting used too.
He chuckled at my stumbling over his name and walked to the edge of the counter. My eyes widened when I realized his own state of undress. Alabi was healthily filling out a pair of boxer briefs. The bulge at his crotch was very substantial, and his manhood bounced around beneath the fabric of his underwear, the material stretching taut against his thick legs as well.
He saw me appreciating the size of his crotch and proudly smiled as he placed the champagne glass down next to me. I couldn’t help but smile, embarrassment running deep as my body temperature spiked over the risque proximity we shared.
“What is this anyway?” I blurtingly asked, searching for any distraction. I placed my tea down and took the champagne glass in hand.
” My special recipe.” He smiled, still standing dangerously close to me.
I teased him, “Isn’t this just champagne?”
He chuckled, admitting, “Yes. But it’s usually not that kind of champagne.” His words implied a calibre to the bottle, which I had already assessed as high quality. The taste of the drink confirmed it.
“Delicious.” I complimented.
“I’m glad you think so.”
We stood there for a moment, his delicious scent just noticeable enough to entice me. I took another sip of the mimosa, a nervous sexual tension running through my body.
Stupidly, almost instinctive, I noticed myself glancing down at his package again. It was almost as if I suddenly lost control of my actions, eyes magnetized by intrigue. He saw me once again appreciating his concealed manhood, and ever so slightly widened his stance to give me a better view.
My eyes widened at the outline of his cock, long and thick, running down his thigh. Suddenly, all the repressed arousal from last night bubbled up from within me. I was sexually excited. My nipples hardened, pushing the fabric of my shirt out for Alabi’s eyes to see. The heat returned between my legs, intense and needful.
I turned to the window, hoping to conceal my body’s betrayal, taking another heavy sip of the cocktail.
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