Amarachi, my oh so pretty wife, would often get giggly when she found a new crush; and tall, dark, good looking guys were her cup of tea.
Demilade was just the guy who adorned the picture perfectly—young, fit, ruggedly handsome and, which was most important, interested.
Amarachi and I had gotten to Calabar just in the back of high noon. The flight from Lagos had been direct but long and tiring, so we ended up grabbing an early supper and
crashing. That was when we first saw Demilade. He was having a meal in the hotel restaurant as well but had no company with him. I sat with my back faced to him but then could make out his reflection in the polished, white marble wall. And of course, I had noticed how frequently Amarachi kept looking past me, smiling bashfully and batting her lashes. She made me notice the man behind me in the first place.
“You take a fancy to him, don’t you, Amara?” I asked. She blushed again, a big red flush rushing across her cheeks, and met my eyes. “Are you crazy, babe?”
“Am I ever?” I returned.
“Most of the time, yes, you are. The nerve to ask me that. Gosh!” She shook her head and hissed, as I chuckled quietly.
“You jealous, baby?” She asked smiling devilishly, running her finger along the base of her wine glass.
I felt sharp envy smite my heart at the root upon the question. “Not about yet,” I replied with a quivering heaviness in my voice.
Amarachi smiled again. “We may have to do something about that, fine sir.”
Something about that came the following day. Tired from our long flight, we had slept in, had our breakfast late, and gone a little sightseeing. It felt all too nice to escape our busy mad lives in Lagos for the time, but then that was only some fragment of the reason we had come here visiting with Calabar.
I and my wife ran again into Demilade back at the hotel, this time he was sitting on the rooftop verandah, and alone yet again. We shared one of the large chairs, my wife and I, she in my lap, and Demilade reclining at the far end of the couch beside us. It was a rather respectful distance between strangers.
I clutched Amarachi’s sexy body as she leaned close and whispered, “Him, again, we have within sights, baby.”
This was how the game was roused typically and set slipping afoot. I nodded, kissing her soft mushy lips which tasted sweet as always. Would this hunk taste her delight too? I questioned in my mind as gut
jealousy stung me again. That was part of it all too, of course. A crucial part much the rather: the jealousy. It made the excitement all the wilder.
“I’m going to lie down, Amara,” I said coolly. “The jetlag is finally taking its toll, I guess.”
We shared one more kiss, deeper than that one before. I could feel her heat singe me in that kiss, betokening events set to unfold.
“Get rested, hun. I’ll just enjoy the warm sun a little longer.”
I nodded, whispering, “And I’ll see no one bothers you,” and then left, which seemed a long and ponderous drag, because I was still loath to go. To get up, smile, and leave my sexy wife behind, knowing what usually ensued, almost always sink me down to a panic attack. I thronged my mind with countless things of a scattered family as I bolted the doors that led up to this floor, putting up a “Closed” sign so that dared come near to worry them, then circling around so that I could watch covertly from around the corner. Luckily, getting around to do all this was quite the breeze. There was a second storey to the rooftop cafe with windows that just overlooked the veranda where my wife was sitting. By the time I made it up there to watch them, they had already begun a conversation.
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Demilade. I’m sure I saw you last night. You’re here alone, I suppose?” Amarachi had on a striped summery, short-sleeved and loose blouse on top of lacy, white shorts that I loved so much. And as if in spite of her large hat and sunglasses on, her smile shone still brilliantly through.
“You suppose right, ma’am, I am,” Demilade returned in a thick robust accent.
“Business. You are with someone?” He asked in turn.
“Oh no, pleasure. And yes, with my husband,” Amarachi replied smiling gorgeously, but I could tell by the way the man’s shoulders dropped how he really felt upon the news. His vibe had appeared to incur a big blow.
My wife lowered her sunglasses, studying his reaction over the top. “Does that seem to dampen you?”
“No…no. Not in the least. Only I wonder that you’re not wearing a wedding band to signify status.” The odds of something going down just shot up by radical degrees. Despite Amarachi’s taste for men like this, if they pushed their game too strong, she was wont to lost interest and abandon the whole project altogether.
She held up her bare left hand. “You observed right. I’m not wearing it.”
I heard him gasp, all the way from high up my perch. He recognized the invitation and grinned widely from cheek to cheek. He asked, “Is your husband in the know of this?”
I could tell Amarachi had the instinct to look up in my direction, to wave, and mar the whole game altogether. But she wouldn’t. She wanted the young man too much to jeopardize the process.
“What does that matter?” she asked confidently.
He glanced down at her pretty legs and smacked his lips as though involuntarily.
“Matters nothing, I reckon, until you say it does,” he said, with a little hint of a lustful smile across his face.
“Good quip!” I thought, impressed by him. He was breaking through the game triumphantly, letting my woman alone in charge and playing good ball.
“Hubby knows of my wild uncontrollable fetish for hot, sexy men,” she said, smiling naughtily. Then she set her sunglasses down and reclined into her chair. “How much do you like sexy, caramel women, you?”
I felt my cock growing hard listening in on their conversation and watching the vibe swelling between them. Demilade seemed to squirm a little in his seat, adjusting himself uneasily now, obviously excited as well as taken aback where this was headed.
Amarachi smelled him out quickly. “I’ll take that little squirm of yours there for ‘very much'” She pushed a hand inside her shorts, her eyes
fluttering shut. Demilade had sunglasses on too, but they couldn’t shade his astonishment. My wife had
grown bolder since she and I began at this game, but this moment’s beauty was unchanging, the moment when it occurred to the other man that
she was available to him.
I felt something clench in my stomach as I watched the young man’s realization, and watched him now fondle himself through his own shorts in response to the dick-provoking spectacle my wife laid out before him. No holds barred now, it appeared.
Amarachi then unhooked her shorts and pulled them off, baring to the amazed air her delicious-looking meat. From up high where I was, I enjoyed a clear view of her smooth pussy, glistening with expectation.
Demilade squirmed where he sat again, riveted to his seat as my wife shoved two manicured fingers into her cunt, throwing her head back as pleasure coursed through her. I could hear her make a sweet moan, a hand at the back of her head as her fingers plunged in and out of her wet sweetness. Yet as sexy a spectacle as Amarachi put up, flicking her bean like that, watching the young man watch my wife was, for some weird reason, even better. He didn’t cut across, at first sight, the sort of man struck dumb by many, but here he was, rudely tongue-tied.
Amarachi moaned louder now, biting her nether lip as the hand that had been behind her head slowly crept up under her blouse, seeking her hard nipple and fondling away to heighten the overall pleasure. Demilade broke into a happy smiled, glad to see this hot woman turned on right in front of him like this.
At length, as though having mustered enough courage, he asked, “Mind some help with that, ma’am?”
My wife slowed her thrusts, opened her eyes and met his again, a mischievous smile pervading her face. “You mean to help with touching?” she asked, feigning the innocence of a clueless child. Creeping out of her chair, she stalked up to him, her lips parted a crack, half smiling, half predatorial. “I was hoping you might come around sometime.”
Demilade sat forward, leaning back on his elbows, as my wife fed her cunt-tasting fingers into his mouth. He sucked hungrily, more than glad to taste her. I swallowed spit, imagining me him. I knew what ensued afterward usually, hands down the most intense moment of any encounter.
Amarachi pulled out her fingers from his mouth, leaned into him, and claimed his lips with hers.
At this moment usually, I felt the urge to tear out of my hiding and break off the engagement, my jealousy swallowing me up in flames. I was losing breath very quickly and could see stars literally flare at the edges of my vision before I could catch my breath again. I placed my hand against the window, steadying myself, and suddenly panicking that I may have been sniffed out.
When I returned watching them, I knew I needn’t have worried. Their kiss had deepened, either’s tongue probing the depths of the other’s mouth, and each other’s hands roaming the body of the other.
To be continued…
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