I’d seen her sometimes in church, and my brother had once pointed her out as the wife of one of the elders in church. I guessed that she was perhaps in her late forties or so, I found my admiring gaze drawn to her each time she walked past me or was within the reach of my prowling eyes.
I was 25 years old and, being a shy young man I was still a virgin, though I never admitted it to my friends who thought I was a “bad guy”. She was intriguing and arousing: every detail about her oozed class, but what was even more arousing was the fact that she was about twice my age and, as though that was not enough forbidden arousal, she was married.
I sometimes fantasized about her. I wondered how many times she had had sex if her husband plummeted her as she rightfully deserved to be? Did he go down on her or did he just hurriedly shove what was sure to be his little penis inside her only to climax after very few thrusts? These and many more thoughts ran through my mind.
I knew if I was given a chance, I will make her feel like a real woman again, but I was just a random 25-year-old boy she probably never even knew existed.
Mrs Akintunde, the object of my fantasy was a slim and well-toned woman, and although she was of average height her slim build made her legs look long. Her chocolate complexion gave her an even more alluring look. Her breasts were ripe, and jigged alluringly but subtly as she walked. I wondered whether in fact she selected her bra to allow for some movement.
It was appealing to think that she dressed to catch men’s attention, however unlikely it seemed, given the classiness that she exuded. Her dress sense spoke rather of a woman who was confident not just in herself but also in her appearance.
Her clothes looked well-tailored and expensive, usually dawning a corporate outfit. Sometimes she wore a silky shirt under her jacket. When she wore trousers, they were close-fitting, emphasizing her long-looking legs.
When she wore a skirt, it was usually modest in length, knee-length or just an inch or two above it, but often with a teasing split at the back, offering tantalizing slight glimpses of beautiful thigh.
Her black silky hair was short, and just like her glasses (did I mention I have the hots for women who wear glasses?), enhanced her confident and elegant appearance.
On this fateful Sunday, at the end of the church service, I was at the supermarket just around the church snacking and talking with my friends and spotted her as she walked in. I noticed she was buying quite a lot of items. Her legs looked shapely in her outfit.
Her skirt reached just above her knees, and its hem flicked enticingly as she walked. Her heels were high, causing her hips and shapely ass to roll in a way that drew my eyes and I noticed the eyes of some other guys at the supermarket on her too. Her sky-patterned blue jacket fitted her closely, and of course, she looked smart.
While she paid for the items, I overheard her pick a call and it was clear from the call that her husband had one of those after church meetings and as such she would be going home before him. As she made her way out of the supermarket back to the church, I assumed she was likely headed towards the church.
I saw this as my chance to catch a good view of her and perhaps get her to notice me. Quickly, I paid for the snacks I had bought and bade my friends goodbye, as I heeded what appeared to me the clarion call of destiny. I observed she was about to cross the road and I closely followed. She looked in both directions to make sure that no cars were approaching as she crossed the road. I avoided crossing at the same time she did and pretended to look at my watch. I blushed slightly, suspecting that she may have noticed that I was following her.
As soon as I noticed the coast was clear, I followed carefully behind her in a bid not to arouse any suspicion. I followed her all the way to the underground car park. I had hoped her car was parked at the basement as and on the farthest side, to prolong my view of her, but all too soon she stopped by the rear end of an exquisite black 2020 Range Rover Evoque.
I was beyond mortified. I knew she was a classy woman but this was another level entirely. I felt a rush of blood to my dick and imagined fucking her in the backseat of this rather exquisite car. I sped up slightly to catch up with her while trying not to make it obvious.
As she opened her boot, her skirt rode up a few inches; despite my sense of shame, I couldn’t resist checking her out.
I was just a few meters away from this classy, sexy woman. This woman had been the center of my thoughts as I masturbated every morning and night. My heart was beating more quickly and I felt the bulge in my trousers harden.
Thankfully I was wearing native attire so the top did a good job of covering my shame. She seemed to be struggling with one of the nylons, and, as she lifted it, one of the handles must have snapped. The contents fell to the ground under a less-than-attractive car adjacent to hers. There was no way in hell I would let her get anywhere close to that rickety car much less bend over to pick up the things that had fallen underneath it. Quickly my heroic instincts kicked in.
“Oh, fuck!!” She screamed
Her outburst shocked and excited me. Although I didn’t know her, it seemed at odds with her classiness, and the woman who sat so gracefully at the front row in church. In my imagination, it hinted at another, less-than-holy side to her. As she squatted to pick up some of the items. Her skirt rode up her thighs to my shock and delight.
I gave a low cough to avoid startling her, and tried hard to avert my eyes from her well-toned thighs.
“Can… can I help you ma’am?” I offered.
She looked up and smiled.
“Thank you sweetheart. That’s very kind of you.”
She smiled at me. Her eyes were brown. Shyness at having eye contact with me made me look down at the ground though I couldn’t resist glancing at her thighs as I squatted beside her. I’d never seen a woman look so hot in corporate attire, and lust grew in me to be beside this woman. This older, married woman that my body longed for.
I knelt down and retrieved the items from under the adjacent car and helped her put them into the boot of her car. She smiled at me again and rested her hand on my arm. Although I was sure that it wasn’t intended in that way, it struck me as erotic.
I glanced down and my eyes rested on her wedding and engagement rings. I felt a rush of disgust and anger towards the man who had taken my woman and made her his.
“Thanks again, darling. It was kind of you to help a lady in distress.”
I looked briefly into her smiling eyes, framed by her designer glasses, at her slightly lined face and at her short hair.
“Oh, it was nothing ma’am,” I replied.
“Where are you heading? Perhaps I could give you a lift as a way of thanking you,” she said. Her voice struck me as sexy, but maybe any voice coming from her would have seemed so.
“I… it’s okay. I… I’d just take an uber…”. I tried sounding classy, but who was I fooling? I had no intention of calling an uber when a N100 bus would get me to my house.
My shyness annoyed me. She smiled again.
“I’d like to give you a lift, at least. Where do you live?” she persisted. I smiled shyly and told her the area.
“That’s on my way,” she insisted. “The least I can do for your kindness is to give you a ride… get in.”
I was sure that her double “give you a ride” was unintentional, but it aroused me. I pictured her riding me in the backseat of her car. I sat in the passenger seat, and tried, unsuccessfully, not to look at her legs as she got in and sat beside me.
She shuffled and eased her skirt hem lower down her thigh to cover it. As she swung to take the seat belt, her jacket gaped open. The tailored fit of her shiny blue shirt partly showed the shape and ample size of her breasts.
The car set off. I tried to keep my eyes ahead, but they did stray to her legs from time to time. She made easy conversation. I explained that I was working as an intern with Zenith Bank while waiting for the strike to end.
She asked which branch of Zenith I interned and was pleasantly surprised when I told her, adding that that was where her husband worked. She asked me if I could play pool, saying that she really wanted to learn to play so she could surprise her husband. Her next words, though phrased innocently, sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.
“We have a pool table at home. You don’t mind teaching me, do you?”
I was taken aback. A married woman, more than twice my age, asking me, a total stranger, back to her house. “I, er… I could do, ma” I stuttered.
She laughed softly, but without any hint of unkindness.
“You can call me Yewande when we are together. And what’s your name?”
“Tunde ma, Babatunde.”
“Well, Tunde, I hope I don’t make you nervous. I’m only asking you to teach me how to play pool,” she said reassuringly.
I tried to regain my composure.
“No. I… I’m just a bit shy, that’s all ma…..sorry…..Yewande”
I glanced at her hand on the steering wheel and briefly focused on her wedding ring and flashy engagement ring. Using her first name made me blush, given that we had only just met, and given our wide age difference and her married status.
“You’ll teach me, then?”
“Okay….but can I ask a question m……sorry…Yewande”
Again, the use of her first name sent a tingle of excitement down my spine and my dick.
“Uhhhmm…I mean, you’re married, aren’t you? It might not look good if…”
She laughed softly again.
“My husband’s in a meeting with Pastor and from there, he is off to the airport on another one of his business trips. He has a lot of official trips and… I feel a bit left out sometimes…”
Her voice trailed off wistfully. I couldn’t help wondering whether her tone of voice was slightly contrived, to be honest.
“I figured he’d be spend more time with me if he knows I can play pool! At least he would spend Saturdays at home with me rather than at the club playing pool,” she said.
It seemed pointless to try to find more excuses. Besides, I was finding it arousing to be alone with her, and the thought of being with her longer was very appealing. On the other hand, I was afraid of making a fool of myself. I was already half-hard and feared that she would notice. And if by the slightest chance she was to make a move, I feared revealing my lack of experience.
I forced a smile.
“Sure. I’d teach you…” I replied.
As we drove along the road that almost passed my house, I hoped nobody would see me who knew me. Meanwhile, although she didn’t speak non-stop, Mrs Akintunde made small talk every now and then. I enjoyed the sound of her voice and enjoyed shooting secret glances at her legs.
We entered the wealthier end of town, and I looked enviously at the immaculate, detached houses and well-tended lawns and gardens. After a few more minutes and a few turns, she slowed the car down and pulled onto a driveway in front of a 3-car garage.
I got out of the car, feeling excited and nervous, and put my hands in my pocket to hide my erection. She slid out of the car and I followed her to the front door, trying in vain not to watch the mesmerizing sway of her hips and subtle movement of her skirt hem.
We walked down the lobby. I glanced into the open doorway of the lounge, and noticed the quality carpet and expensive-looking suite and display cabinet. We passed the dining room, similarly affluently furnished, and she led me into a games room off the kitchen.
As well as a high-quality pool table and lighting, there was a refrigerator, a long, low, leather sofa, and a small table made of some exotic wood.
Mrs Akintunde slid off her blue jacket and draped it over the arm of the sofa. I glanced furtively at her cleavages. Her blue satin blouse shimmered. It fitted her enticingly, neither clinging to her nor quite hanging loosely either. The size and shape of her ample breasts were discernible rather than obvious.
She looked me in the eye and smiled. Her lips were painted red, and her brown eyes looked kindly through her glasses.
Would you like a drink or something, Tunde?”
“Thanks. Juice would be nice.”
“We are not in church darling, so drop the act”, she calmly said with a smile.
“Okay ma, I’d have some wine” I replied
She kicked off her shoes and walked into the kitchen. Her ass was nicely rounded under her plain blue skirt, and the subtle slit in the back gave a tempting glimpse of her lower thigh.
She arrived back a few moments later with a bottle of vintage wine and a glass upturned over the neck. She passed it to me, and I took it from her hand. I poured myself some wine. Again, my eye rested briefly on her wedding ring and at the large diamond of her engagement ring.
A shudder of excitement and guilt ran through me at the evident reminder that I was alone with another man’s wife. She had a glass of red wine in her hand. I thanked her and placed my glass on the small table.
“I know you may prefer to drink it from the bottle, but I thought I’d give you a glass in case, hun.”
Hun! I could hardly believe my ears. Surely this couldn’t be innocent speech, could it? I wondered, yet her face betrayed no emotion. Either she was unaware of the effect she was having on me, or she was teasing me, I decided. The possibility that she was genuinely flirting with me seemed too good to be true.
I set up the fifteen balls on the table and unpacked my cue. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her run her slender finger around the rim of her glass.
It seemed oddly erotic. I glanced at her face, her slightly lined throat, and at the rise and fall of her ripe breasts under her satin shirt. I was about to demonstrate how to hold the cue and how to angle it for the break.
“Easy Usain Bolt!” she laughed. “You need to explain the rules and what the aim of the game is first!”
Written by Sixtie_9ine
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