Not a little time had passed before I realized that my bosses, Mr. and Mrs. Fatomilola, had grown a habit of sending me rather odd errands whose need I just couldn’t see.
For a long stretch of time, I wondered why it was that Mrs. Fatomilola would suddenly send me to go and buy something like detergents when in fact we’d be having a full box of detergents at home at the very time, or why her husband would send me to go check if his mechanic was at his workshop when in fact he could just place a call through to him via phone by himself.
The mechanic’s workshop was about a 25 minutes walk from where we lived and all I Mr. Fatomilola instructed me to do was just check if he was at work and return, even though I knew in my heart there wasn’t a need for a mechanic.
Sometimes, having been frustrated with these fruitless journeys, I tried to point out the needlessness of the errands in the most humble way possible to my bosses, but they scolded me and turned me going. So, afterward, I just shook my head and went on them anyway.
But on Monday at high noon, Mrs. Fatomilola called me and asked me to buy a carton of milk from a specific store that was almost 30 minutes walk. I reckoned she ridiculously forgot she bought two cartons just the night before. I decided in my mind that I would not leave, sure that she wouldn’t even notice if I got or didn’t get the milk anyway. I was determined to find out what madness got them like this.
I walked out of the house scuffing my heels on the floor through the kitchen door and then closed it loudly behind me, and scuffing my heels a little further from the door, making sure they thought I was gone. I waited a couple of minutes then quietly opened the door and skulked in. I kept on skulking slowly in until some strange sounds started filtering in from the living room.
It was Mrs. Fatomilola moaning. This was the first time I caught a thin inkling why the silly errands never seemed to stop.
I followed the sounds toward the living room and as soon as I was in a discreet enough corner, or at least what I thought was, I peeked in. My discovery of my bosses’ activity both scared the living light out of me and excited me thoroughly at the same time.
Mrs. Fatomilola’s ass was high up in the air while her husband was driving his humongous meat into her asshole from behind. And yet that wasn’t about the scariest of the things that scared me.
Both her hands were tied at the wrists as her chest and face were bent down to the sofa and her husband held onto her fat ass and rode her silly.
It felt to me as though he was running roughshod over her, but she seemed to like his work well.
Each time he rammed into her, he would spank her hard in the ass. She would scream out in pain and then beg him for more. This spectacle aroused me twice as much as it confounded me, strangely enough.
Mr. Fatomilola soon unplugged his cock from her backhole and picked up what looked like a whip on the ground next to him. I think I died there with mere anticipation, wondering what he needed that for.
But soon enough, the whip went for Mrs. Fatomilola’s flesh as she cried out loud again and continued begging her husband for more.
“Are you my slut, are you a dirty slut?” Mr. Fatomilola thundered in question, shaking and panting as he whipped his wife again.
“Yes, daddy! Yes! I am a naughty, dirty slut. Pound my dirty pussy,” she returned. With each hard spank on her soft meaty fat ass, Mrs. Fatomilola bit her lips, moaning and crying strange languages and her man groaned deeply in pleasure.
This had to be the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Already I could feel my throbbing erection attempting to tear its way out of my jeans.
My hand crept slowly in to free the raging monster as I began rubbing its head to placate it. Mr. Fatomilola entered his wife again, only this time, he spread her legs wider apart as he invaded her wet cunt.
I grabbed my own shaft in response and began stroking myself hard as I watched, lest I died from being deprived of partaking in the hot the action. Each time Mrs. Fatomilola let out a moan, her husband gave her a terrible spank on that fat ass of hers. “Shut the fuck up, you nasty slut. Shut up and take this big dick like a whore! I know you love this dick.”
Mrs. Fatomilola bit her lips and tried to moan quieter now, but she couldn’t, so the spanks kept coming as she cried out louder. I could see pearls of sweat course each other down her face and her eyes rolled up to her head like a little girl’s possessed with a strange demon. My own dick was throbbing like mad as I imagined it was the one entering my madam from the back. When Mrs. Fatomilola opened her mouth and started to gasp as she came, I imagined my cock inside her hot, wet
mouth and straight down her throat. I had a mighty cock, so it wasn’t farfetched, only if I had the chance.
I closed my eyes and groaned underneath my breath as I was my fantasies oppressed me. I worried that they smelled me about.
I looked up to see that Mr. Fatomilola was rather deeply immersed in what he was doing that he did not notice a thing, but when my eyes tumbled down to his wife, they interlocked with hers.
I felt an immediate terror ripple across my whole body but she looked down toward my hand on my cock instead and licked her luscious lips. This excited me to no end. I stroked my cock for her slowly to gauge her reaction and I saw her literally gasp out of breath. The harder I stroked myself, the hotter she got for me.
Her husband was thrusting her hard from behind with his own cock while she locked her eyes on mine. He was pounding that sweet cunt of hers and there I stood imagining I was his rival for her pleasure, doing the exact same. I saw her focus harder on my hands when she exploded again all around her husband’s cock. I knew this climax was mine and smirked at her proudly.
This tipped me over the edge. I came all over my hands and caught Mrs. Fatomilola’s eyes again. Madam then gave me an evil smile, winking at me from underneath her husband.
I looked up to see her husband crinkle the brow in concentration as he gave his wife one last hard spank and drove into her with such an impetus as made her cry out the loudest she had done since. He froze and shot his load inside of her.
I had seen just about my fill of the spectacle. I crept out of there before I Mr. Fatomilola smelled me, else I was toast.
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