Nice ass! He might be fun to fuck! Temi’s pussy responded immediately by issuing a small amount of juice onto her panties.
She checked out the young man who had caught her attention. He was slightly taller than she—she was 5’9″. Standing behind him at the stoplight, she noted that indeed his ass did fit nicely into his jeans. He wore black shoes and a dark jacket. His hair was cut in a fade. Uh-oh–he looks young!
She casually moved to a position where she could see his face. As she glanced at him, he noticed her as well. He is young! Christ, Temi! Keep your pussy in your pants! They both looked away.
He is cute though, she couldn’t help but think. Am I so horny that I’ll fuck anything that has a chance of getting hard? Well—maybe. She suppressed a smile as she remembered the cucumber she had used that morning. She was up to masturbating twice a day and still, her pheromones kicked up every time she was in the vicinity of any male between fourteen and seventy. Christ! I need to fuck someone soon!
It had been seven months. Seven months since that dreadful call. Her chest constricted as it always did when she remembered it, but at least she wasn’t blinking back tears. She still couldn’t actually talk about him without crying though.
Her husband of twenty years had died suddenly of a cardiac arrest at 45. She still felt guilty, although she had told herself a million times she shouldn’t. She had been on his case about working out. He had gained weight, although, on his big frame he could carry it well— still—60 pounds? He liked to eat and drink too much, and he didn’t work out. She had tried to encourage him to adopt healthier habits. He finally started jogging before work. It was on his second day of jogging that he had collapsed on the side of the road.
He had died within the hour. He was alive when they called her, but by the time she got to the hospital, only fifteen minutes away, he was gone. And her world had changed entirely.
The first week had been a nightmare. Friends and relatives poured in from all over the country. Segun had had a million friends. Everyone wanted to console her. She just wanted to be left alone to console her children.
Doris, her sixteen-year-old, had taken it especially hard. She was daddy’s girl. And poor Taiwo. Her ten year old would have to go through puberty without a father.
They had all cried so much that first week that she thought their eyes should run out of tears. They didn’t. Now, seven months later, she was down to crying maybe only once a day. She smiled to herself. I’m masturbating more than I’m crying! Is that a good sign? She wasn’t sure.
Since she had lost her virginity at the age of eighteen, three months was the longest she’d ever been without sex. Until now. After sex several times a week for seventeen years, suddenly going cold turkey was… maddening. Sometimes she thought she was going insane. Sex was almost constantly on her mind. No matter how many times she masturbated, she could not get relief.
The light changed and she crossed the street, weaving quickly through the Friday afternoon crowd. The drizzle was becoming heavier, edging toward a cold rain. The sky was even cloudy—typical for Lagos in February.
She had left work early to take both the kids to school. They were recovering well. Kids were amazingly resilient.
She wanted to do some shopping, to find out what was new for the season—at least that’s what she told herself. Really, she was trying to get her mind off Valentine’s Day. Tomorrow would be her first Valentine’s Day since Segun had died. They had always done something special for Valentine’s Day. Usually, they celebrated by going out to dinner on the 13th—much easier to get a table at a good restaurant that way—and often they would spend the night in a hotel. It was sort of a mini-vacation to celebrate lover’s day.
She was trying very hard to ignore the holiday this year.
Before starting to shop, she decided she would treat herself to ice cream. She was at the Awolowo road—there was a Coldstone Creamery bar on the next corner.
She stepped into the warmth of the small bar, unbuttoning her jacket. The rich aroma of freshly baked icecream greeted her like an old friend. In a few minutes, she had her strawberry icecream in hand. She wasn’t quite ready to step back out, so she stood at the window and gazed out at the crowd on the street.
That’s when she saw him.
He looked like he could have walked out of a movie—except for his clothes, of course. He would have been depicted as a pirate or a highwayman or some other dashing villain. His hair was thick. It was damp from the sweat. His face wasn’t classically handsome. It was broad, with a strong chin, a wide mouth and a flat nose. His large, dark eyes were beautiful. He himself was not beautiful. He was way too masculine to be beautiful. But his eyes were beautiful.
He oozed testosterone. It was in his stance. In the way, he turned his head. In the width of his shoulders under his blue shirt. He was very male. Her pussy clenched and gushed.
She watched him chat with his friends. She gave them a quick stare: one was skinny with bad skin and very loose jeans, the other had blonde dreadlock hair and lots of piercings. They all looked very young—in their early twenties at the most.
Her attention went back to Mr. Testosterone. Whew! He is heart-stopping! Very different from any man I’ve ever been with. She had gotten married at the age of twenty-five. She had fallen in love with a conservative man, twelve years her senior. Even before she met Segun, the men she dated tended to be older and conservative. Segun had always kept his hair short, and in the last few years, it had turned bald. He was always clean-shaven. Mr Testosterone, she noted, had a few days growth of beard. Sexy!
She finished her ice cream but continued to stand in the window, fascinated by the display of virile manhood before her. His friends said good-bye to him and walked off down the street. He glanced around and took a seat on the chair almost directly below her.
He coughed slightly and pulled his hood over his head.
He’s alone, she thought. I wonder if he has any money. Maybe he wants a cup of icecream.
She tossed her ice cream cup in the garbage on the way out the door. As she rounded the building toward him, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. What the hell am I doing? I’m thinking with my pussy, that’s what! He’s not going to be interested in me—I’m old enough to be his mother. She didn’t stop herself though.
Chidi shifted. Damn its cold! The brick wall he was sitting on sucked the heat right out of him. He shivered, pulling his hood over his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets. I should probably just go—but where? It was Friday night. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to meet girls. He took a mental inventory. He had two thousand Naira on him. Where the hell can I go with two thousand naira—to meet girls?
Who am I kidding? With two thousand naira, I can buy ice cream, and I need the rest for the bus home. Even if I meet a cool chick, when she finds out I have no funds, she’ll be gone. Shit, I need a job bad! Hopefully, tomorrow…
Someone stopped in front of him.
He looked up into dazzling brown eyes. The woman standing before him was stunning. Her curls were caught at the nape of her neck, but several strands had pulled loose, small ringlets blowing free about her brow. She had a classically beautiful, glamour-model face. Her eye-makeup made her eyes look unreal—like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Small laugh lines at the corners of them gave her character. She was older than he, by eleven or thirteen years, he guessed. She was elegant. Sophisticated. Spectacular!
“Hi,” she said.
She seems shy. What does she want from me?
She smiled at him and he immediately felt warmer. His cock responded automatically to the ‘a beautiful female is near’ stimulus. He tried to ignore it.
“You look lonely. Can I buy you an ice cream?” she asked. Her voice was low and sultry.
Huh? She wants to buy me ice cream? Why? The first thought that occurred to him was that she was undercover police trying to bust yahoo boys that often frequent this corner. He dismissed that thought. Even if she is, she has nothing on me, and I’m not going to admit to anything.
“Sure,” he said with an answering smile. The desire to be inside out of the cold and wet was reason enough to accept. As he stood up he caught a whiff of her perfume, spicy but subtle. An animal deep within him growled in approval.
His smile was like a heatwave washing over her. Her body responded with a sharp ache in her groin. Oh boy! Get a hold of yourself Temi! He stood and she was pleased to see that he was at least a few inches taller than she was. Standing at the window above him, she hadn’t been able to tell.
He observed her silently as he followed her to the show glass. She was quite tall. He couldn’t tell what her figure was like underneath her jacket, but she certainly wasn’t fat. She moved with the grace of an athlete. She was wearing pencil jeans tucked into expensive-looking shoe. Sexy!
He took a deep breath and tried to subdue his raging libido. She doesn’t want to fuck you, dude. She’s just buying you ice cream—for some reason.
They took a place at the back of the queue.
“My name is Temi,” she said, offering him a perfectly manicured hand.
“I’m Chidi.” He was embarrassed by his dirty fingernails, but he shook her hand firmly. Her skin was warm and smooth.
Temi flirted with her eyes. What the hell do I say now? “Do you want to find someplace to fuck?” God, what a fine boy—so masculine!
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