Jumoke - S01 E15

Story 19 hours ago

Jumoke - S01 E15

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 15

“AIEE! Chhhhhhhhh! NO! Not when baby in me,” She pleaded in a dismayed but lusty hiss through her teeth, glaring at me with annoyance that quickly melted into wry amazement. “You so BAD! Bad boy, Chizzy Daddy.”

Unapologetic, I grinned wolfishly at her, kissing her shoulder, neck and cheek as I slowly moved in against her lithe back and started to push between her legs again. Jumoke made another sound of angry feminine protest but relented with a purr at the sensation of my big member sliding and settling against her wet, welcoming pussy. Her breathing deepened as she luxuriated in the feeling and grew more receptive, until finally patting my chest and submitting to me just like she always did.

“Mmm. OK, OK, we do again,” Jumoke pursed her dark lips at me, clicking her tongue between her teeth. ” But this last time tonight we fuck. Tomorrow I work, you go school.”

I nodded as my pregnant maid rose to her knees, tiny crucifix glittering and tinking against her sweaty breasts, her nubile body glistening in the dark. She straddled me with a look of loving but lingering bewilderment, clearly wanting to set the pace after my painful, failed attempt at anal. With her hair plastered to her lean back, Jumoke stroked her round belly reassuringly with a far-off look, maternal instinct momentarily at odds with pleasing her mate. Her impregnator.

I luxuriated in the sight of her fertilized body at that moment, flourishing at the end of her first trimester. She was so beautiful, so erotic in the shadows of the maid’s room. She looked down at me with a growing, lazy smile before wrapping her fingers around my huge cock length. Jumoke gripped and positioned it as she maneuvered herself to crouch over my waiting cock with her rounded distended belly. Her swollen pussy lips kissed my dickhead with their slick, velvety folds, strands of her cream already dripping to wet the glans. She spread her legs some and squatted down lewdly to devour my entire length inside of her with a drawn-out grunt. Jumoke’s eyes shut with pleasure, lip bit hard as I filled her canal so completely. The tightly enveloping, familiar heaven of being sheathed in her pregnant cunt was indescribable ecstasy as our pubic bones mashed together and I crushed up against the entrance to her busy womb.

Her pussy walls vibrated as she came hard with a low, animalistic moan. Jumoke bowed her head, hunching her back to lean forward with a tremble, hands supporting herself on my abs. Slowly, my maid started to ride and fuck herself onto me on our secret, licentious marital bed. The lecherous, wet slap of my big cock being impaled over and over into her sopping hairy cunt smacked discordantly with the soft music from the TV.

Our maid looked so filthy and fucking sexy squatting and sweating above me on my big cock. It was a deliciously familiar sight. Her cunt was stretched around my thick, veiny meat, coating it in pearly girl cum. She was so completely filled that her greedy little pussy lips pulled and stretched down my long length every time she lifted her hips and slid upwards on my demanding dick.

“aunn! Fuck me…nnh…” Jumoke grunted between each thrust before it devolved into a long string of shuddering moans. “I..hnn…love…AUnn! You so…beeg…nnm! Diick…”

If Jumoke was anything to go by, all women at their core desired a genetically well-endowed male. For her part though, Jumoke had early on berated me before, during, and after sex that my abnormally large penis was simply too big, not just for her but for anyone.

Ego surging over these grotesque, sex-addled thoughts, I gripped her ass and then hips as I fucked back up into her, harder and deeper, knowing the supple fucking machine of her body could take it all. She wailed in delight as we fucked one another, once again consummating our forbidden mating pact. Jumoke threw her head back with gritted teeth, unruly strands of silky hair matted to one side of her sweaty face. It gave her lust-consumed Asian features a wanton, primal cast. Perspiration ran in rivulets down my wife’s breasts and the gravid globe of her small baby belly as it heaved and bucked with every smack of her hairy broodmare cunt.

Jumoke’s back arched as we fucked, pregnant bump bulging obscenely between her legs to stand out even more with fertile arrogance. I placed both my hands on the taut, hot skin over her swollen womb, holding and caressing it as it rose and fell above me.

My dick was truly back where it belonged, clenched in the sweltering, unbelievably tight vise of her hungry womanhood. We pounded against one another as Jumoke’s walls pulsed and flexed along my shaft in unending orgasm, this impregnated cunt so desperately thirsty to suck even more of my potent cum up into her body.

Eventually, it was too much. With a groan that rose up deep from my chest and out my teeth, I felt my cock expand and surge inside her. My climax built in a towering wave of unstoppable pleasure, seed churning up from my balls. My mind went blank as I pulled her down onto me by her hips and erupted up against the plug of her cervix in what felt like a torrent of cum. Jumoke climaxed with a throaty whine that crescendoed into a scream and squirt of her own juices at the sensation of being overfilled again, each boiling pulse of my orgasm roiling and drowning her canal in my seed.

As I subsided, Jumoke crumpled forward against me in a sweaty, huffing mess. The firm press of her round bump, heavy breasts, and hard nipples raking on my torso made me twitch inside her as my thick cum began to ooze out of her hairy pregnant cunt and over my thighs. Her fading release left her in a state of tender, silent convulsion, hot flesh trembling on mine. Jumoke panted against my mouth, my world filled with her pretty, immensely satisfied face.

“Mmn…I love you,” I breathed into her ear as I nuzzled past her cheek. It just kind of came out, probably awkwardly. Until now, I only murmured that I loved her back when she initiated the declaration, but that’s just how I felt in the moment of afterglow. True.

My words made her pussy ripple weakly around my softening member, milking more of me into her oversexed body. She pulled back to give me a long stare full of fierce love in her eyes. But then it darkened to something that looked like apprehension, even fear.

The hot gaze lingered and took on a dumbfounded quality. It reminded me of how she looked at me after I approached her for sex while she was cleaning the house. Maybe it was post-coital clarity reminding her that she was having a dangerous, depraved affair with a young guy and was now pregnant by him. The son of ‘Sir and Madaam’, who were both sleeping on the other side of the house.

Jumoke frowned deeply, bottom lip trembling in trepidation. It looked like she was about to cry before the spell broke and she kissed me on the cheek, sweaty chest still rising and falling as she regained her breath. Without another word, she disengaged our joined bodies with a long, wet slurp. My semi-erect monster flopped out from her well-fucked cunt with a gush of semen that splashed over our legs and the bed. Jumoke’s hair followed her as she cupped her weeping pussy and unlatched the door to slink bowlegged outside and into the adjoining servant’s bathroom.

The fuck was that all about? I drew up to sit. The air was thick with the sweet, tart smell of Jumoke’s musk and my cum; the tang of male and female sweat. I balled up some of the moist bedding in a fist and wiped the mixed fluids from my thighs and flaccid cock before swinging my legs over the side of the raised slab to stand. Did I say something wrong? Was that it for tonight? I had made her cum a lot, more than usual — that was good, right? So why did I feel like I fucked up somehow?

Jumoke and I didn’t communicate very much. Usually, it was just furtive looks and innuendo during the day, or just straight fucking around if we could get away with it under my parent’s noses. But we still didn’t really talk besides her telling me to do my homework before we had our after-school or nightly trysts, or the usual maid stuff like urging me to eat all my meals and asking if I wanted my room cleaned. The most common conversation we had was during foreplay and sex. All just dirty talk. Sometimes we would whisper endearments to one another between rounds, but nothing substantive. Probably the last time that happened was when I promised I would marry her.

Was my pregnant maid getting skittish again or something? All the sex these past months seemed to distract and comfort her from her original fears. I thought things were going great.

My first instinct was to blow it off, that Jumoke was just being hormonal or whatever, and head back to my room to sleep. But that look and her hasty exit? They gave me pause. Every night without fail she would wish me goodnight, kiss my face, and ask me to kiss her belly. Then sometimes a cheeky swat on my ass as I left. But not this time.

Something was wrong. Alone in the darkened maid’s room, the voiceless concern was infectious. The tiled walls lined with pop posters and small shelves started to feel suffocating in the tiny space. As I stood there and tried to think, I noticed things I wouldn’t normally have. The portrait of the Savior was still turned away, a nightly ritual for her. A couple of high school-level English learning books and one in Yoruba.

The chunky white paperback of Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus, which I couldn’t believe she could actually read, but it looked used and earmarked. For some reason, there was also a pair of mostly-eaten twin bananas on a plate. Cravings, maybe.

The cold thrill of what I had done, the strange knot in my stomach at the weirdness and fear of fucking with the trajectory of my entire life — it had been a constant company at the beginning, but faded to background noise over the last couple of months. Now it was back with a vengeance.

I wasn’t afraid of being a father. Jumoke was the mother, a professional homemaker, and she would take care of the baby. She was born for the role. I figure out how to take care of them, somehow. I kind of already had a plan, foolish as it was.

I was afraid of my maid running away though, back to her village. I wouldn’t allow it.

The door creaked as I stepped out into the near-pitch of the laundry and kitchen area, hearing roaches scuttle across the floor and up the walls. A heavier scrabbling above me was from one of the rats that I knew cohabited the bones of our house. The first time I had confirmation of the fact was watching some late-night episodes of Sponge Bob Square Pants in our first-floor room in the dark.

I heard a scrabbling noise from the other side of the room and saw the shadowy shape of a giant freaking rodent on a desk. To my fascinated horror, it was gnawing on the neck of a spray bottle to get at the water inside. The next morning I checked out the lemon-yellow plant spritzer to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Yep — two fang marks right through the plastic.

That was Port Harcourt though. Live and let live, right? Same reason why I kept my room an air-conditioned icy 16 degrees centigrade — none of the creepy crawly things could survive in that kind of climate.

The bathroom door was mostly closed but for a crack of spilled orangish light. I could hear the spray of the shower emanating from within. I stepped up to the door and peered inside.

The maid’s bathroom was easily the shittiest room in our large mansion. A claustrophobic square cell of old tiled walls, it was barely big enough to fit in the only squat toilet in the house and an open basin with a little bucket to flush it.

A tiny sink with a wall-mounted mirror in one corner and a hose shower in the other filled the rest. This drain on the floor caught excess water and probably welcomed the roaches and other flying motherfuckers in.

At least it had a tiny vent window up high to keep the smell under control. I had never been in there more than to take an urgent piss after one of our fuck sessions — too dirty for me. A far cry from the five-star hotel-type bathrooms we had elsewhere in the house, although Mother complained about them being ‘a smidge too old fashioned and outdated’ for her taste. But somehow my secret wife made what she had work, and was always fresh and pretty for me.

Jumoke was standing there naked in front of the mirror, staring at her body. My maid’s ripening pregnant beauty was on display in all of its glowing glory. Her tits hung heavy in their fattened teardrop shapes; elongated nipples dark and so suckable.

The wild tumble of normally straight hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her youthful face was so exotically attractive, so different from the rich babes I was expected to chase. But Jumoke’s pregnant belly was the focus of her attention as she stood there, her hands draped over its bulging curve on either side.

She was carrying low. My woman turned to inspect it from her side profile and stroked it with motherly apprehension. But then a look of contented pride softened her features to see how her uterus jutted out so fully this early on like she had swallowed a little melon or something.

In the clearer light of the bathroom, the reality of our situation hit me again, but differently. She was really very obviously pregnant now. It felt like the growth to this state had happened fairly quickly, just over the past week or so.

Yeah, Jumoke had inevitably started showing early on with her lithe body and although I had foolishly dared her to flaunt it in front of my parents, they were too oblivious and self-absorbed to notice. But now?

Jumoke’s expression changed to one of sadness as she stared at her reflection. I hated seeing her look like that. What was going on?

Suddenly, it clicked in a rare moment of empathy for me. Now it wasn’t perverse fun and games anymore. Not for her.

I mean, I couldn’t read Jumoke’s mind but I had a pretty good idea what was going on in her pretty head. I knew that her feelings for me had been entwined with a heavy shroud of shame.

Her strict religious upbringing and the implications of our age difference had probably gnawed at the edges of her consciousness for a long time. Grappling with the fear of judgment, the weight of societal expectations, and the terrible uncertainty of her future.

My mind spun out of control, watching her like that. Maybe Jumoke was questioning whether her feelings were genuine or simply a fleeting, sex-filled escape from the challenges of her life. Maybe she questioned whether the love she felt was worth the risks it carried.

Now that Jumoke’s pregnancy had become truly evident, maybe the walls of her internal struggle were crumbling down. The shame she had fought to suppress was literally staring her in the face. The reality of impending motherhood reflects her deepest fears and vulnerabilities. Maybe she was torn between her love for me and the weight of the stupid choices we made.

I mean, shit, I wielded my power as her employer’s son to manipulate and seduce her into becoming my loyal slut. My bitch. My self-declared wife. In that moment, I really, truly felt for her.

But despite the concerns that my higher functioning synapses were firing, my hormones were increasingly inflamed by the sight of Jumoke’s growing, mesmerizing pregnancy being flaunted in front of me. With a pang of lust, I felt my low-swinging cock start to engorge and rise again.

Fuck, I was conflicted. I probably should have just given her space and had a heart-to-heart with her after school the next day, but I got harder and harder as I gorged on her with my eyes. Better judgment quickly started to fade. In the end, like always, I let my dick lead me into the bathroom.

Jumoke let out a little shriek as I pushed into the tiny chamber and shut the door, reflexively covering herself. She glared with narrowed eyes at me, hissing through clenched teeth in a raised whisper. “Chizzy! NO. You go now! Go sleep, I wan shower. You…CHH!” she snapped her tongue in a fury when she felt my big, hard dick poke her leg, raising her hand and threatening to give it a slap. “ENAFF!”

The room was barely big enough for the two of us. The shower spray was splashing wonderfully against my muscled back as I loomed almost head and shoulders over her petite frame. “Hey, hey hey!” I tried, placatingly. “Shhh. Sorry! It’s not my fault! You know I can’t control it! I was just worried about you.”

Jumoke’s expression softened to skepticism and incredulity. “You worry for me?” she frowned with the bud of her dark lip, the diamond glinting from the hand on her hip. “I worry for you my baby. Belly so beeg now, too beeg. You see!” she barked, holding her stomach for emphasis. “Sir and Madaam go find out soon, what we go do, Chizzy?” she pressed, near tears again. “You promise you care me…” she whimpered.

I could guess what was unsaid. All that awful shit I had been thinking, confirmed, and probably more. Like I was still a boy even though I had shown her I was a man. Still a student, a kid without a job who didn’t know shit about responsibility. Of course, she was right but I was determined to keep her.

I came closer, putting my hands reassuringly on her shoulders, the shaft of my big throbbing dick pressing against and sliding up over the curve of her belly as I gently embraced her.

It felt so good. She made an angry sound of opposition at first but stopped as my hands caressed her back with tender affection. I leaned in close to murmur my plan in its entirety near her ear. As I did, she fidgeted and pulled at the diamond ring on her finger, but slowly relaxed as the tension began to melt away.

“You…do that for me?” Jumoke whispered aloud, stunned.

“Yeah,” I promised. “You’re my wife, I love you.” Again, I meant it this time.

Jumoke crumpled into me, sobbing, but it sounded like relief. There in the shower, she confided all the shit I hadn’t cared about or wanted to know until now, about how she had been so lonely, and how it was just her, completely supporting her destitute parents and sister’s schooling back home.

How the heartless agency had controlled her life and she was so completely at the whim of my parents — and especially my cruel mother. She was terrified of us being discovered, which was now in her mind, imminent.

I kissed Jumoke’s head as I held her. There would have been a time when I wouldn’t have cared at all about her problems, like, just dismissed them as completely beneath me. But something had changed. She was changing me. I did care.

I promised Jumoke that from now on, I would give her almost all of my allowance. It wasn’t much to me, but to her, it was probably at least her monthly salary. To send home, use for the baby, whatever.

Jumoke threw her arms around my neck and cried out her love for me in her bad English, kissing me passionately over and over again as her belly pressed against my abs and my large cock, draping it over the top of her bump. I reciprocated, luxuriating in more love than lust for a change as our lips met. A new feeling for me.

When my sexy maid drew back, letting my cock slide back down over her stomach, my desires flared. I put my hands over the tautness of her pregnancy and smooth, warm skin, looking down at it with obvious hunger.

To Be Continued.