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Sunday, July 26, 2020

Lunch


N/B: 18++

Every lunch break, I would find myself standing before a man with a bulging arousal. Every lunch break, my phone would beep, ‘it’s lunch time,’ my heart would sink, and then I would distill my fear to courage. Minutes later, I would find myself in a state-of-the-art office, the smell of wealth collapsing all over me. Every 12 p.m., the door opened, I would find myself effortlessly standing before him like a child prepared to be sacrificed to the gods.

He would let his unzipped trousers fall, and I would crawl through his table to be fed my lunch break, a brown swollen shaft. I swallowed and then pant. He always felt warm. I would start licking, slowly, from top to bottom as though I was licking a cone of ice-cream.

 His hairs would scratch my jaw, and then he would begin to thrust. As his thrust goes deeper, he would let his bald head sag backward, his half-shut eyes would stare into the white ceiling like a hallucinated man, and his mouth would begin to open slowly. His breath, like the starting of an I-pass-my-neighbor generator, followed by sudden shocks of bliss. And when I would use my tongue to tease the head of his shaft.

“Oh! oh oh… there…,” his hands would swing helplessly, “I thin-k yo-ur pro-promotion is sealed, eh! My boss’s voice heightened with excitement as tears rolls down my cheek and then my mind would travel.

“I know this my daughter will always make me proud. I gave birth to her. She resembles her father. This girl can read…oo She worked so hard and now she is a big woman eating oil money” Papa will always say whenever I visited with my car’s boot swelling with large tubers of yam, a large cat fish, bags of rice and all sorts of provisions and new clothes for my siblings.

“Is it not my daughter?” mama would cut in, dancing, raining praises “she is very hardworking. She is the male child I did not give birth to.”

But only if they knew… Only if they knew that I no longer own myself — myself no longer belongs to me. Only if they knew that I am just a mere toy, my boss’s toy. How could they possibly know? How he would thrust and thrust into my mouth and when he was spent, I would feel white sticky juice draining down my throat. Only if they knew, I am now a being made up of logical bones, void of emotions. I wish they could see, that they could see behind those my fake smiles, there stands a fury glow in my eyes eager  to quake ‘cause my humanity has kissed insanity.

It all started 18 months ago, when the economic recession began. Life became unbearable for many as there was massive laying off of staffs here and there. I lost two of my close colleagues to depression, they could no longer live within their means. I was so terrified, and I wondered what would happen to me, my siblings, and my parents if I am laid off.  On one of those tensed afternoon, Mr. Bamidele took me upstairs, to his office. I entered that office, a human and, for next 18 months, I would always come out a lesser human.

Today, it is 12 p.m. and I am in his office, all ready for him. In a single strike, I unzip my gown, and my nakedness emerges – full breast,  popping of my bra and, waist narrow, and my hips waggling from side to side as I walk towards him, in a slow breathtaking motion.

‘’Ahh!!,” he is startled as his yoruba accent punctuates his curiosity, “my baby is looking all sexy to finish me oh.  This is good,” his eyes trails my every step, “Come baby, I see you are set for it. I can’t wait..” Excitement envelops him as he hurriedly pulls his agbada, looses his rope, and my lunch drops like a waving flag, dangling.

In a second, I crawl through his table and I am holding his 4 inches and foams begin to form at the tip of his head. I throw it in; he ascends to cloud nine, moans ascending with him.

“You’re so sweet. This girl — this girl, I think I should have married… ‘cause I don’t know what my wife is doing”

I peep up, then I adjust myself to have a firm grip. I begin to bite, my incisor tooth, piercing into his succulent flesh.

“Ah — What are you doing? What is she doing?” He is jolted back to reality, surprised at my weirdness. “What are you doing nah? Do you want to kill me? ahahahahahah... ahhhh… what is this?” He screams in excruciating pain, trying to free himself but I decline and grip my lunch firmly. He hits my head, my back with dire eagerness. Pain creeps into his skull, pulls my hair as he struggles to free himself but the more he struggles, the more my mouth sinks deeper.

And now, I begin to bite harder, harder and harder, and I could feel the taste of blood.
“Help! Hee – lp! Security! Security! Security… O ti pa mi! O ti pa mi… Ahhhhhh… Kí ni mo ti șe sí ara mi… I am dead...o this is insane” Uncontrollable tears gushes out.

With love

© I. C.
#BigDaddy

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