Episode 7

It was a Friday morning, the weekend before Christmas.

I was driving out with my Prado jeep, when I thought I heard ‘Papa Michelle’.
How I wish I had ignored that call.
I stopped and slowly reversed, from my rear view mirror, I could see a petite woman in a black dress, handbag in one hand, and a small travelling bag in the other.
This being the weekend before Christmas, it was normal for folks to be travelling.
‘Ah! Where’s Thaddeus your husband?’ I asked the petite woman, and was duly informed that he would not be returning to Ogun State for the holidays. I asked where she was headed ‘Bus park.’

Now I am no pervert. Raised by a single mother, I couldn’t chill in the car and watch her lift all that load by herself, so I got down to help – that’s where everything went downhill.

At the risk of being seen as a tribalist, I had always heard Yoruba ladies had big butt0ckz but I saw that for myself that cold Friday morning, as Kafayat made her way from the boot to the passenger side, I didn’t know when I was covertly followed her, looking at her big, protruding butt0ckz.
I quickly dashed to the driver’s side, and within minutes we were off.

My heart pounded, what would I say, should I say something – suddenly I heard clicks, she was taking selfies in my car!
‘You young people and selfies.’ I said to her, ‘it’s the latest trends’ she replied, murdering English a bit.
‘Have you ever been to Transcorp Hilton?’ I asked, ‘would you like to go there?’. ‘Ah, of course, it is the happening place, maybe I will go when I come back with Michelle, I hope you will let us go.’ Kafayat replied.
My conscience pricked me a bit, here I was, trying to find a way to get my daughter’s playmate, agemate and mother of two, to stay back, if only for a night.
‘What will happen, if you spend an extra night here in Abuja?’ I asked, she laughed, I have already bought my bus ticket, she informed me.

‘I will pay for another one.’ I replied, as she continued taking more pictures.
She just laughed.

Till today, I have no idea where the boldness came from.

‘I will give you 150,000 naira, if you spend the night…’ I can’t recall what I said after that, but whatever it was, I got her attention.
‘You will use protection.’ Kafayat said, ‘I like it skin to skin.’ I replied.
‘200,000 naira and you are buying the postinor.’ She said, before asking for a deposit, which I was hesitant to give.
But I did.

Against Road Safety, I pull out my manhood and watch as she undoes the seat-belt and bends over, to give me head – luckily for us, Abuja roads in the mornings are empty.
I check her into a hotel, and proceed to go clock-in.

I excuse myself.

She’s catching up on some sleep, her ‘localness’ evident by the wrapper she’s wearing.

I wake her up.

We look into each other’s eyes, as though we know what we are about to do will be a betrayal of trust on many levels.

As I kiss her, I recall when her husband and her, came to thank my wife and I, for settling their marital woes.

But this only seemed to make me hard as a rock.

She gave me head.

I shut my eyes, savouring the sweet s£nsat!ons.

I realised she was trying to get me to come quickly – smart, but not that smart.
I pulled out of her mouth, and la!d her flat on the comfy bed and spread her thighs.
I could see her honeypot lips.
I mounted her, and fixed my manhood in-between the lips.

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