I knew Ngozi through a friend. I happened to be viewing his Whatsapp status at an opportune time and I saw her picture posted with the short birthday wishes to his beautiful colleague. He had been gracious enough to link us up when I asked him for her number. He had probably accepted that she was out of his league but considered my chances much more realistic because I was not only good looking, but also the only son of my oil tycoon father.
Our conversations had been amazing and I found her to be as intelligent as she was beautiful. She was so funny and I had never had a girl make me laugh so much. Ngozi was a breath of fresh air. She was a working class lady and although our tax brackets were far apart, she never requested anything from me so I was all the more happy to shower her with unsolicited gifts and money. It was only natural that my heart grew so fond of her. I could even see myself committing to her eventually. But I had to first be rid of my cravings for other beautiful women. In the early talking stage, I came clean to her about my obsession with pretty women and my inability to commit to a serious relationship and she had been fine with having a casual fling with me. But the more intrigued I became by her, the more my jealousy and possessiveness sent mixed signals about what I wanted. She too was smitten and even though I never officially asked her to be my girlfriend, there was an unspoken bond between us that told us we belonged to each other. Her exploits in bed roped me even tighter into whatever our thing together was. Ngozi was a sex bomb. Six months after our situationship started, she found out that I was fucking two gorgeous friends she had introduced me to so I could connect them with a popular media mogul pal of mine for modelling gigs. She confronted me like a girlfriend would and when I reminded her that we were not really together and that I had already told her what to expect beforehand, she apologised in tears but said she couldn’t cope anymore. We had amazing sex for what was supposed to be the last time then she suggested that we keep a healthy distance, a suggestion which I respected even though it felt terrible to see her heartbroken and even worse to not be so close to her anymore. Once in a while I would check on her and we would have a light catch-up conversation, then we would go back to being strangers. Over time, it got easier to be without each other and Ngozi had almost become a historic thought when things took on a new twist. This was six months after our “break-up” and just as I discovered her on a Whatsapp status, I learned of her marriage ceremony the same way. I skipped it without a comment, feeling jealous and overlooked. After further thought, I overcame my pettiness and sent her a message congratulating her and the lucky man. I promised to send her wedding gift beforehand as I would not be in attendance. She apologised for me finding out the way I did and said she was supposed to bring me a special invite and a gift basket but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Then she asked if I wouldn’t be attending because I had another engagement that day and I told her that as selfish as it sounded, I just didn’t want to be present when she was given away to another man. She responded saying she was happy and knew I would be happy for her too and eventually find what I was looking for in a woman, then tactfully changed the subject. Later that night I sent her a million naira as my wedding gift to her, more for my ego than for the benefit of the couple. I went to sleep hoping she missed me.
I woke up to four missed calls from her the next morning, which I ignored with the rest of her Whatsapp messages. When she called back later that evening, she expressed gratitude, surprise, doubts about accepting the entire sum, and then more gratitude. She ended with a promise to drop off my invitation at my office the next week. I wasn’t surprised that she would avoid coming to see me in my house, and perhaps that was for the best too. When she finally came by, I wasn’t at the office and she left the invitation card and gift basket with my secretary. I was a little disappointed that I couldn’t see her one last time. She called me afterwards to say she was sorry she didn’t meet me, and to express her desire that I attend the ceremony. I gave her a response that was neither a yes nor a no but we both knew I wouldn’t be there. The designated Saturday came and went and she got married to her handsome husband who was doing okay for himself by average standards, and things were back to normal.
A month later, I was lounging in my large plush office with not much else to do for the day when my secretary buzzed the intercom to inform me of an unscheduled visitor. Ngozi! As soon as she walked through the door, all the memories came flooding back in with her. There she was in a navy blue single button suit over a white large collar button-up shirt on a knee length corporate skirt, complete with navy blue stiletto pumps, and looking more beautiful than I remembered with her full breasts, wide hips, caramel skin, legs for days, the face of two models combined framed by long braids, and a smile that could light a scented candle from a distance. The fact that she was taken only added to her appeal. I couldn’t even stand.
“Hi, this is a pleasant surprise,” I started shakily, managing to pull myself onto my two feet.
She rushed towards me with a happy shout to hug me but my outstretched palm stopped her.
“Please Ngozi. You don’t know how good it is to see you again, and you brought our memories with you. You’re so fucking beautiful and all I want to do right now is fuck you on this table. I can’t because you’re somebody’s wife now. But if I hug you I don’t think I can hold it together anymore. So I beg you, please don’t make me do it.”
At my helpless confession, feelings she had long since tried to bury came bubbling back to the surface. She grabbed my face and kissed me hungrily. I didn’t even have the time to think. I just kissed back, lifting her by her ass onto my large desk and hiking her skirt with urgency. She tore my shirt off me with equal haste. The rush was on. I pulled her white panties to the side and was greeted with the familiar sight of her beautiful trimmed pussy. I kissed her as I shoved my erect manhood into her. She gasped in delight and the heat of her breath drove me wild as I began pumping into her.
I intensified my strokes, pounding deeper and faster into her. The tight grip of her cunt tempered by her wetness contrasted smoothly to create the sweet friction that was pushing me closer to an explosive orgasm. Her body absorbed my bucking and heaving, moving in vulgar rhythm with mine. Her soft moans and perverse encouragements were a potent aphrodisiac. She writhed underneath my lithe frame as I ravished her, enveloped in the entanglement of sweet coitus. She gripped me in a bearlike embrace, whispering her dirty words to me as the ripples of pleasure in her cunt crescendoed into an ecstatic climax. Her walls closed hard around my shaft and the convulsions of her body set off spasms in mine as I came with a powerful ejaculation of my sperm into her. My penis was still stroking her with each jerking motion as my nerves were flooded with the sweet ache of release. Ngozi and I still have regular sex dates. And I can’t understand why we are now crazy about each other just after she got married to another man.