This story is set in the Victoria Garden City, one of the more posh neighbourhoods in Lagos, Nigeria.
Like most of my stories, it is based on near truth experience.
Again constructive critcism would be welcome.
THE BLIND DATE
It was a dark night that was as silent as a graveyard as the clock struck midnight. The din of the old church bell reverberated through the starless night, stunning the night creatures into an unholy silence. A gentle breeze wafted through the plains, making a solemn hymn of whistles and flutters on the pines and palms that littered the countryside as it blew away the remnants of an otherwise dead day. The night was at peace with itself.
As the breeze died down, a shuffling of feet could be heard on the asphalt, and by the sound of it, the owner of those feet was either very tired of walking or standing or maybe even living; either way, whoever it was that was taking a midnight stroll needed to rest, and fast. The street lamps, that were the only source of light on this dark night, cast their golden glow on the only soul plying the midnight road, shifting focus from everything else to the young lady who had her broken shoes and a purse in her hands and clad in a torn blue dress. She looked every bit as tired as her feet told us.
Her hair, dishevelled as it was, was adorned with broken twigs and dried leaves; her face, though pretty, was an image of sorrow, with tears and blood flowing freely down her face. Her dress, that only few hours ago, was a stellar compliment to her stunning figure, was now a piece of rag that hung off her body on some threads that seemed to be all that kept her from the seemingly inevitable advent of insanity. At a precursory glance, she looked to have led a team of axe swinging albeit highly fashionable Valkyrie clad in Vera Wang gowns and Gucci shoes against a horde of barbarians and lost.
While her noisy shuffle was the one minor disturbance to the quiet of the night, in her heart, a storm was raging, and in her mind, the tape of the battle, that had left her an eyesore for the first time in her life, played in a constant loop.
It started like every other evening could have started. Having dinner and sharing a bottle of wine with a guy across the table from you seemed pretty normal, right? Though her oldest friend and flat-mate warned her against the evils of online dating, emphasis on the innumerable freaks that adorned those halls, she had never been able to pride herself on her listening skills. So against the better judgement of her best friend, she’d donned a blue gown that seemed to dangle off her hips and dance enticingly around her thighs, making a show of her beautiful long legs. The low-cut bust line of the gown troubled her a bit but she knew it would have a desired effect on the fellow she would be spending the evening with, so she tossed a white shawl over her shoulders in a weak attempt to conceal the garment that revealed a little too much of her pleasant C-cup breasts. When she looked at her reflection on her vanity, she smiled at her 5’9” frame; she knew that her long spell of “manlessness” would soon be over.
Well, in hindsight, she couldn’t help thinking that she was the author of her own mishap. While her date had kept his hands to himself for most of their stay at the rather bourgeoisie restaurant, she was quite certain that she must have made it a little too difficult for him to stay seated and composed, not the way she was dressed, not the way she acted. Her dress now tattered, was an off shoulder piece of wonder that hugged her body most sensuously. The dress as per the wishes of its designer was ordinary to say the least, but she re-designed it to show more of her well toned caramel skin. “A little too much”, her flatmate, Toni, had warned, but she never listened. The light shawl she’d thrown over her shoulder was supposed to shield her goodies from unwanted attention, so it was suffice to say that Barbra left her apartment with a deep-seated yearning for some attention.
Q: Did her dress and actions fetch the attentions she sought?
Yes. Richard could barely keep his eyes off her (well, her boobies); she was, after all, a very pretty woman. She stood at 5’9”, with beautiful C-cup breast, a flat stomach that led to a gentle swell of hips from which a pair of beautifully carved legs seemed to go on forever, resulting in a mouth watering figure. Richard saw all these, topped with the well sculpted face and wide inviting smile, and he wondered, ‘what in the hell is such a beautiful girl doing in on a dating service anyways?’ Her shawl kept doing this funny thing where it kept slipping off her shoulders, revealing most of what it was meant to conceal; a healthy pair of bodacious tatas, and the sight of them left him deaf or mute for most of their conversation. Then there was that smile, like she was getting off on his optical adoration of her boobies, like she was daring him to do more than just stare. After dinner, drinks and some light dancing, Richard offered rather insistently that he walked her home. The walk through the Marwa Estate Park was her idea and he welcomed it.
Halfway through their walk through the park, he steered her into an enclosed alcove and drew her in for a kiss. She could have stopped it at just a kiss, but she didn’t. When she felt the palm of his right hand cover her breast, she moaned into their kiss. When she felt her nipples hardening to the cold caress of the late night breeze, it was then she tried to stop him. A little too late though.
As she tried to rearrange her exposed breast into her bra, she couldn’t help a nervous giggle. Now, Richard was already close to losing his mind. If the taste of her lips on his tongue and the feel of her breasts on his palm had him dangling from the edge of a lusty skyscraper, that girlish giggle pushed him right over. And he lost his cool.
His movements were too fast, his grip too strong, in a few words, she didn’t stand a chance. First she felt him grip her rather roughly, and next thing she knew, she was on her knees, face pressed into the ground that was carpeted by fallen leaves and broken twigs. She fought back, pushing up and back against a Richard who was suddenly and uncharacteristically violent, and in so doing, primed herself for the inevitable onslaught that was obvious to everyone involved but her.
Her thong, buried in the cleft of her vaginal lips, was moved aside with a flick of his finger. “Don’t you dare”, she warned in a shaky voice that undermined the threat. He replied in a calm voice that belied his restraint, “You fucking cock-tease”, and with that he shoved his painfully rigid manhood into her partially slick vaginal opening.
Yes! Partially slick. You see, Richard was right in thinking that Barbara was getting turned on by his constant staring, and without realizing it, he had prepared the altar for what would be a fuck to rival all others.
She’d opened her mouth to scream her lungs off but not a sound came forth. Her silent scream could’ve been caused by any number of reasons, but one could easily place money on the length and girth of his manhood and it would be money well spent. While his dick (10.5” by 4”) was of nearly astronomical proportions, it was merely a lesser contributor. To put it in simple terms, her body betrayed her. 18 months ago, Barbra broke up with her then fiancé, and since that time, she’d had nothing but her fingers and a couple of lifeless phalluses to pleasure herself. Now, she was on her knees, ass in the air before a man who was well into his agenda of taking her against her will and he very nearly brought her to orgasm just by sinking his very impressive dick into her. Her body needed that orgasm and her mind was well on its way to losing the battle. She closed her eyes and breathed through clenched teeth as tears started to spill from her eyes.
Richard could not believe how warm she was, couldn’t believe how tight she was, but what had him shocked was the constant shuddering and flexing of her inner walls around his tumescence. Richard knew he would not last very long if she kept at her incessant milking. What a slut! He slowly pulled out of her till it was just the head of his shaft left in her opening and then he thrust it back in with as much force as he could muster. Her comment on this was a cross between a gasp and a groan. He kept thrusting, long, even and powerful thrusts that left her overly moist and dripping the excesses onto the organically carpeted ground.
“Please”, she’d pleaded, “Stop”, she’d begged, but her pleas only served to egg him on. He pulled on her hair, forcing her upright with her back against his chest. “Don’t... tell me... to stop”, he said in between strokes, “You like it... you slut”. While she could not get herself to deny his bold claim, this was not how she thought her return to the game would be after 18 months off the stick. She’d envisioned scented candles and sensual baths, but here she was, fumbling and tumbling into what seemed to be the makings of a mind-blowing orgasm at the hands (or dick) of a sociopath in the middle of the Marwa Estate park no less. Ain’t life a grand affair?
With one hand around her neck, and the other roughly fondling her breasts, Richard felt, with much disappointment, the slow build-up of what was to be a fast and stroke inducing climax. Thinking fast, he reached down and caught her clitoris between his fore and index fingers and then he squeezed.
Although she liked the feeling of his dick pressing most deliciously against the walls of her pussy, it did not change the fact that he was taking her against her will. So she chorused a few, “Please stop”, a couple, “No more”, and a, “You’ll rot in jail for this you bastard”. All that stopped the moment he reached down and touched her where she’d been craving to touch. “OH FUCK!” the results were almost instant.
“OH FUCK!” he’d heard her say just before she went crazy. She took her breasts in her hands, squeezing her nipples as she bucked wildly on his dick, quaking and shaking through her orgasm. Her orgasm caused even more shuddering and flexing of her inner walls, so much so that it jumpstarted his climax.
His grip on her neck grew tighter, his pace got faster. She knew he was about to cum, he wasn’t wearing a condom so he’d be depositing his semen directly into her pussy. Her orgasm addled brain could make all these out but she could do nothing to stop it from happening. Just as her climax came to a shuddering halt, his began. The feel of his seed washing the walls of her already quivering uterus induced in her another orgasm.
They bucked wildly against each other, quaking and shaking through their simultaneous orgasm that was both mind-blowing and stroke inducing and it left them lying on their sides in the dirt, trying to recuperate spent energy.
She’s crossing the empty street to her apartment building, barely two houses away. Barbra is grateful it’s past midnight, not a soul in sight to laugh or sympathize with her. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she was filled with equal parts self-loathing and intense satisfaction. Her mind raced to the awkwardness that ensued after the glow had dimmed and the reality of their actions dawned upon them. She remembered the anger that boiled strong within her when she heard Richard’s pathetic attempts at an excuse; “I don’t know what came over me”, “it was the work of the devil”, he’d said. The son of a bitch couldn’t even own up to it.
As she slid her key into its rightful hole, all Barbra could think of was a hot bath and her soft bed. She turned on the lights to find Tina, her flatmate, waiting for her. ‘Oh crap!’ Barbra thought, “Sweet Jesus!” Tina exclaimed as she shot up to her feet, “What the fuck happened to you?” “Nothing”, Barbra replied as she made her way to the bathroom, tuning out everything else Tina had to say. As the hot shower pummelled the dirt and fatigue out of her, Barbra couldn’t help hating herself for loving every minute of the untimely fuck, and loving herself for kneeing the bastard in the gonads for what he’d done.