The unique aroma of catfish pepper soup wafted in from the kitchen. I had suggested the beer parlour and pepper soup joint famous for its deliciously spicy soup just around the corner after listening to Dokun grumble all day about his cravings for something hot. It had taken him only about ten minutes to heed my suggestion and return with the soup.
Now, I could hear him moving around the kitchen, as he dished it into one of my mother-in-law’s favourite china bowls.
“I got you some.” The aroma wafted even stronger in as Dokun walked into the sitting room with a tray of the pepper soup and spoons.
“Uh …” I looked up at him from the fingernails I was painting, thinking about the late dinner of eba and mixed Okro soup I just had. “Nah! Think I’ll pass.”
Passing up Mama Kuddy’s – Kudirat for full – pepper soup was just one of those things you never did. The freshness of the soup, the delectable hot spices that tickled your taste buds, and the array of assorted, well-seasoned fish, meat, and snails -whichever kind of pepper soup you were buying – were just not things you passed up. But tonight … I couldn’t trust my stomach not to revolt if I ate more than I should.
“Okay, if you insist,” Dokun replied in between spoonfuls of soup. He came towards the sofa where I half-lay, with my upper body leaning against one of the armrests and my lower body stretched across the seat with my toes touching the second armrest.
Just as I began to fold my knees to my chest to make room for him on the small two-seater sofa, Dokun grabbed my feet, clad in thick pink and purple striped socks, onto his lap with one hand and balanced the tray on the other as he sank heavily onto the sofa.
Surprised, I said nothing and continued to paint my nails with the Ox blood red nail polish my mother-in-law had bought at the supermarket yesterday.
“Hmm! You should taste this! It’s amazing,” and before I had the chance to object, he leaned forward with a spoon and prodded my mouth open with it.
“Nice, huh?” he watched me swallow the content of the spoon and lick my lips.
I held my hand to my lips, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to see that.”
When he raised his eyebrows quizzically, I added, chuckling nervously, “My annoying lip licking.”
“No, darling! It’s not annoying. It’s sexy. Do it again.” He leaned forward a second time with another spoonful of the soup, and as I felt his breath, a mixture of freshness and hot spices, only inches away from my face, I mumbled some lame words of objection before swallowing the soup.
He fed me a third time, with a hand on my bare arm. I couldn’t explain it but the light touch sent pins up my spine. I shivered.
“Hey! Do you feel cold?” His hand was on my arm again.
“No, I don’t,” I responded, pretending to be busy with replacing the lid of the bottle of nail polish in my hand.
“Here, let me help you,” he placed the tray on the floor beside him, snatched the bottle from my hand and began to paint my fingernails with the greatest care.
“We can take, we can take, we can take our time, baby …” he sang in that deep voice – the same one I was immediately fascinated with the day Lanre introduced us – to Trey Songz’ ‘Slow motion’. Because I had reduced the volume to its minimum, I almost forgot that I had left the radio playing.
“Wow! You’re quite the singer,” I said, pretending that his singing and meticulous manicure weren’t doing things I couldn’t explain to me.
“Yea uh! I know,” he grinned widely, his dimples deepening. He continued, “I just wanna see you dance in slow motion …”
Suddenly, without warning, he pushed the bottle of nail polish to the floor and pulled me closer to him by my waist. Then he belted the last words of the song into my mouth before kissing me.
With an image of Lanre flickering briefly across my mind, I held back but responded when his tongue found mine, stroking and exploring. He pulled me closer to him still so that the heat from our bodies sent a ripple of what felt like electricity between my legs. I felt warmth spread there, too, and as he pulled my small night dress above my head and began to explore, trace, nibble with his tongue every crevice from my neck, breasts, to my belly button and just below it, I shivered and let out a light moan. Running my fingers through his hair and dragging my newly manicured nails from his scalp down the nape of his neck, I pulled his face closer to mine for a kiss – full, deep, and lingering.
Waves of pleasure rolled through me when his fingers pushed my white tong aside, slid back and forth over my wet clit, and finally slid inside, plunging deeper with each passing second. I spread my legs wider and arched my back to let him rock my insides even deeper. My mouth opened to let out another moan, and when his fingers continued to stroke and probe with the skill of a craftsman, I felt more warmth spread across my thighs.
I sighed, gasped, and moaned as Dokun’s lips trailed kisses from my breasts to my belly button and down to my wet lips below, where he stopped to lick, suck, and nibble gently. With one hand, I held on to his head, urging him on, and with the other, I cupped one of my breasts. Still cupping, I let him lift and place me on the soft, lush centre rug on the floor, where he deftly removed my tong and proceeded to bury his head in my cunt, now dripping wet from unimaginable pleasure.
When I felt myself on the edge of climax, with my body going limp, he raised his head to look at me, and with a wicked glint in his eyes, he watched my face contort with pleasure before standing to remove his hard cock from his trousers. I knelt, held his thick erection in my hand, and began sucking on it. He closed his eyes, gasped, then moaned and groaned. Grabbing a chunk of my hair, he thrust his cock deeper into my mouth with my head bouncing back and forth to the rhythm of his thrusting. He then pushed me onto my back and positioned his strong frame on top of me, steadying himself with a hand on the rug and the other on my shoulder. Slowly, he slid his strong, massive cock deep inside me. My wet pussy welcomed it, gripped it, and tightened itself around it.
Dokun moved slowly at first, then thrust deeper and faster. Then with the swift movement of an expert, he withdrew his cock polished with juices from my pussy and waited long enough for me to beg in a voice thick with desire before sliding it back in. I stifled a cry of pleasure, careful not to wake my mother-in-law asleep in the room down the hall. She was a deep sleeper and it would take much more than a cry of pleasure to wake her, but I couldn’t take chances.
His thrusting became sharper, more violent, squeezing all of his thickness inside me till my hips contracted and my body convulsed. I dug my fingernails into his back and sank my teeth into his shoulder. He stiffened and I caught a wicked grin playing around his lips, just before I closed my eyes and felt my pleasure reach its climax. This time, I let out a sharp cry, while he groaned, his eyes rolling over as his pleasure matched mine.
I gave a satisfied smile, happy that Lanre was called back to work almost as soon as we arrived at his mother’s for the holidays and had left me in the company of his childhood best friend.