“Abeg, Oga shift back small na… “
Like she meant it. The vibration of the layrnx aided the chip off old block of her glottis, sketching a bold look on her phizog, with the pencil of annoyance. Twasn’t too long she’d gotten on the motorcycle, that the man seated behind her had started portraying the insanity embedded in the lustfulness of manhood.
This time around- the father of the statement she’d uttered- he’d hugged her so tightly from behind, that the border of his palm was shyly brushing the side part of her breast. His erection honoured the predecessor by standing to see who had been the one stirring the waves beyond the borders of the trouser. The erection would hardly sit because succeeding acts was enveloped in indecision.
It happened that she’d gotten on the bike at first: the road has been bad, and the only way to getting to your destination regarding a haste is to do thus. Sooner, the man pulled the bike over and in the name of ensuring safety urged the woman to sit before him: a guide-from-calamity. But as soon as he’d gotten on the bike, the motion of nuances had been ignited in him, as he took advantage of every potholes the bike bumped into, not on account of the rider incompetence but on the account of odds of the road: the road has been ban bad.
At the statement, he gave a stealthy smile: sketching the smile with the consciousness of frown – mixed in the acerbity of inerta. He grunted- inaudible syllables – not remorse about the offshoot of his exhibitions. The woman accepted her fate: a fate fitted firmly in the frame of folly.
The bike bumped into the pothole again, this time, tilting them forward to the bike man. The sixth instinct told the woman right that he was going to take advantage of the latter, but well,she wasn’t ready to do owt bout it. Yes, she wasn’t prepared for this.
As you would have it, at the bump, he enveloped her back in his broad arms, caressing her boobs with his thumb, had a quick grab of both boobs-full hands-, then released before the excuse was squeezed. As if that was not enough, as the bike had tilted, he brushed the bridge between her anus with his erected erection, stimulating strong urged in the woman, spilling drips of arousal in the border of her consciousness.
“God, I will sha come down “
She’d thought. A lot of thoughts rippled through her heart, transporting sundry opinions to the brain. She’d thought of sitting on his erection, whirl her waist dexterously till he would moan. But nay, she wouldn’t repay evil with evil: mrs-most-holy-art-thou.
Finally, she got to her stop and got off the bike like a liberated prisoner. She ate him up with the continue-putting-that-fucking-dick-in-the-anus-of-the-bike-rider kind of rubberneck. The man heaved his phizog of the didn’t-you-enjoy-it kind of smile. He waved and proceeded to his own destination, as the rider tampered with the bike’s velocity.
Gramghb….
The bike again. Elated by the dead-eyes of the intimation between himself and the woman, lost in the labyrinth of it allurement, covered in the regalia of his seduction, hugged the bike rider, suiting his palms on motorcyclist’s chest as he squeezed them lyrically….
Wohzzz!!!!
Exactly what you’re thinking.
19:06:18:12:42
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral Piece. Na Lagos
Ancestral Trail 