Story: Opportunity knocks – pt 1
So here’s my new story. Its one where you get involved and decide what happens. At the end of each chapter you can vote on the three options that present themselves to the main character. Voting lasts for 4 days. The option with the most votes is where the story goes next. It’s your call, it’s your story – you decided.
Opportunity Knocks – pt 1
Nkechi pushed key in her door and stumbled into her flat which opened its arms and blanketed her in a cosy warm embrace. It was Friday and she was glad and amazed she had made it through the week as the 9-5 plantation was working her name was Kizzy. 5 business presentations, 4 networking events, 3 business lunches, 2 new projects to start and what felt like 1,000 meetings; she loved working in media but demanding was not the word for her job.
She dropped her handbag and kicked off her black Kurt Geiger shoes as she relished in the relief of being in her newly acquired flat. It had been only been 1 week since she moved in and while it was new and still need work, if felt familiar and comforting. As she walked along the hall way she pulled her white fitted shirt out her black pencil skirt and undid the buttons. She walked passed the full length mirror and caught a glimpse of her side profile. She smiled to herself as she could now see why Mabel was teasing her about trying to give the men in the office whiplash. Her fitted Zara skirt did somehow make her ample behind seem even more so, it was like a booty wonderbra. She burst out loud at her own silliness and wondered into her living room.
Her living room was the most complete room in the flat as she knew she’d be forced to entertain family and friends as soon as she moved in. her family was such a typical Nigerian family, 4 brothers, 3 sisters, 9 uncles and aunties, 23 cousins and countless other ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’. Aunty Bukky was a pastor at her church and tried to invite the entire church round to bless the house before she moved in. She shook her head at the horror when she found out want aunty Bukky tried to do. She remembered Aunty Bukky’s the 3 and a half hour lecture, sermon, dissertation, prayer and bible lesson she got about men, not having company over and living in Brixton. She laughed; if aunty Bukky knew half the things she’d done she’d probably fast for like half a year and call in an exorcist in on her. Having family in the church was making it a challenge to keep her freak inside. Discretion was the key and she knew she had to keep it in check and black London was small and black Nigerian London even smaller.
Nkechi sighed flopped into her sofa, threw her legs top of the coffee table and closed her eyes as she let the stress of the week melt away in the warmth of her living room. As her mind wondered through the weeks happens it floated on to the guy she had seen every morning at Brixton station. Her mind wondered onto his smooth clean shaven head, his broad shoulders, full sexy lips, the grey tailored ¾ length coat wore and the immaculate shoes, Nkechi always thought a man with good shoes was sexy and a must.
She let her thoughts imagine how his body looked. Even with his coat and scarf on she could tell he was toned and muscular. Ever since she’d seen him fantasies played in her mind about how she’d do him, how she’d let him do her. She remembered the morning he had his coat undone as stood in front of her on the train giving her an eyeful of his package. It was thick, long and leaned to his right and down his leg. He stood reading his book while she sat in the sardine packed underground train getting wet gawking at his dick. Her cit pulsed at the flashback as images of him hard and erect began to take over her mind. Her eyes still closed Nkechi’s hand slowly wondered from her side and down between her thighs. The guy was fine and she would love to feel him deep inside her. Her hand slowly moved up the inside of her thigh and her clit began to tingle and dance with anticipation of her approaching fingers.
Just then her house phone rang making her jump upright and gasp. The sweet image burst and floated away as she got up to answer the phone.
She asked cautiously still trying hold on to the fading traces of Mr Brixton station. Only a handful of people had her landline number.
‘Don’t you hello me missy!’ the voice barked down the phone. It was Adenike.
‘Your fufu eating self best be getting ready for later, its fridaaaaaaaay and we gonna party like it’s … fridaaaaaay!!’
‘You know you’re a bush girl. Why didn’t you call my mobile?’ Adenike was the party animal out of their 6 gang band. She knew all the hottest men in London and would party in a broom cupboard if it was the only place to party.
‘Er, it was going to voicemail you fish. Thought you might be getting some Friday dick and didn’t invite me in on the action.’ said Adenike who was smiling down the phone waiting for Nkechi to reply.
‘Fuck you bitch’ Nkechi snapped playfully. ‘I was getting some in my mind until you interrupted my flow’
‘awwwwww did I upset your pussy, wussy? Look woman we going out tonight so get your ass in gear. We need to go hunting for some fresh meat and eye candy Freak boys Nathan & Ola are coming down with some of their boys so you know where that could lead to. It’s not like your going far anyway, Satay bar is just around the corner from you … literally around the corner.’ Adenike voice filled with a tone of ‘don’t give me any lame excuses’ tone.
‘ok, ok!! What time? Nkechi replied knowing that Adenike wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
‘8:30 and you black self best not be late’ ordered Adenike
‘8:30! That’s too early! I need time to get ready. Nkechi’s voice filled with panic at the short time to get ready. ‘A hot woman like me needs time to get ready’ she said trying to buy more time.
‘only ugly women need hours to get ready and cover their face in make up! Adenike slammed the phone down before Nkechi could reply.
Bitch! Nkechi said into the dial tone.
Disturbed from her mini fantasy she returned to hallway and grab her bag and returned to the sofa. Her hand dived into the depths of her oversized bag and rummaged around retrieving her phone and laptop. I got to sort out my bag she thought. One day I’m going to get lost in it and they’ll need to send out a search party for me. She plugged her phone into the charger and switched on her laptop.
Wine! I need a glass of wine she suddenly thought bouncing up at the prospect of a glass of
Remizieres Cuvee Emilie Hermitage. As she made her way to the kitchen she undid the back of her pencil skirt and wiggled out of it and took off her shirt. She smiled to herself that she could now walk around in just her underwear, a luxury she didn’t have the privilege when she was flat sharing with 2 other people at her old place. Nkechi poured herself a large glass and made her way back to her living room as her blackberry had finally rebooted and her computer waited patiently at its log in screen. She tapped in her pin and instantly her phone began to vibrate and ping. She then realised that she probably didn’t realise her phone was dead as the break from constant pings, emails and calls was a welcomed relief.
She logged on her computer and started to check her emails. There was a blog post notification from Eroticnoire. The anonymous writer had sparked her curiosity with his descriptive story, BBM images, sex status and erotic poems. Her girl had told her that he lived in Brixton which made her all the more curious. She smiled at the title ‘Coffee, Cake and Kink pt 3’. Nkechi had been following the blog for the pass week and become addicted. Eroticnoire’s story had her hooked and couldn’t wait to read the next instalment. She loved the tension and build up of the erotic story of Tannisha & Femi getting busy in the basement of a coffee shop in London. The story had her so hook she would read it on the train and get wet and aroused. Her mind flashed back to reading part 2 and how she was so engrossed she missed her train stop. Arousal already stirring inside her she clicked on the link and the blog opened up and Nkechi smiled as she recalled where she had left off in part 2. She began to read as Femi ordered Tannisha to take off her knickers and place her hands on the wall. Nkechi’s nipples became hard and erect as she fell into the story feeling the pleasure and tension of Tannisha’s tingles and Femi’s sexual dominance. She could feel herself getting wet as she let the story wrap around her and pull her in
‘Femi stood up cupping Tannisha’s ass with his right hand, holding the fullness of it in the palm of his hand. His hand whispered softly as it floated on the curve and down between her thighs. His fingers glided as soft as mist between her legs gliding just below her plump, wet woman lips as his palm rested in the insider of her legs.
Femi leaned closer to Tannisha’s ear, ‘I can feel the warmth of your pussy’ he whispered softly.’
Nkechi had become lost in the story reading faster as her heart rate increased and her body experienced Tannisha’s pleasure. She read with baited breath as the stories tension spilled out of her laptop and filled her warm living room. Suddenly her mobile rang shattering her indulgent enjoyment.
‘For fuck sake!’ Nkechi growled at the phone.
As she picked up the phone it stopped ringing. She paused. Only one person drop calls her and they only drop call her when they want one thing. She looked at the missed call list and her thoughts were confirmed. It was Moses Dickson or Moses Dick-something almighty as she dubbed him. Nkechi’s stomach twisted and her mind exploded into recollections of how Moses gave her the best sex she had ever had. The cocky and charismatic Jamaican approached her when she was shopping in Brixton market last year. He was far from the negative stereotype she’d heard Jamaican men can be all crude, drug dealing, 5 babymother illegal immigrant type. He was blunt but witty with it so she gave him her number. Four weeks later she was getting the kind of sex that had even her manager asking how the sex she got last night was.
She recalled the time they spend the entire Sunday having sex. Her walls clenched and quivered with the memory of waking up, having sex, falling a sleep, waking up, having sex, falling asleep, waking up and having sex. She had to call in sick on Monday she was so tired. She didn’t go to church that Sunday but Moses did sure take her to the Promised Land. She was addicted and couldn’t deny it. If Moses said jump, she’d ask if he meant onto his dick. She hated the fact she was hooked but loved the dick he’d give her. She had been ‘clean’ for over 3 weeks and was finally beginning to think she could move on and not have him just as an ongoing fuck buddy. Nkechi shock her trying to shake any more flashbacks out of her head with little success. Nkechi looked at her phone her thumb hovering over the call button.
Her phone vibrated and pinged as a BBM message came through. A divine distraction she thought as she opened up her BBM. It was a message from her girl Adeola, it was a broadcast from Eroticnoire about Coffee, Cake and Kink pt 3. She remembered that she had been distracted from the story but thought with Moses floating around in her head reading any more may not be a wise choice right now. She scrolled down to the end of the broadcast and noticed Eroticnoire’s pin was included in the message. She looked at it for a while before deciding to send a BBM request. What am I doing she thought as he accepted the request. His display picture came up and it was a close up of a man going down on a woman. Her clit boomed and vibrated at the image. His status read ‘let me make you squirt – class is in session’.
A message popped up from Eroticnoire: ‘Hi, thanks for the add, welcome to my erotic world . Friday’s lesson is in session ’
Nkechi stared at her phone before replying: ‘Thanks … teacher.’
Nkechi had always wanted to squirt but never been able to. Not even Moses Dickson could give her that pleasure, and believe he tried. Adeola was a season squirter and was forever ranting on about the full body, mind blowing, leave you weak and shaking, toe curling, emotional and out this world intensity orgasmic pleasure she would get from squirting. She was both envious and curious about his mystical pleasure.
Before she could think Nkechi had typed a message: ‘So, how can I sign up for your class teacher Eroticnoire?’
She covered her mouth as the ‘D’ on her messaged changed to ‘R’ and Eroticnoire’s status changed to ‘writing a message’. Nkechi was about to start flirting with a faceless erotic writer and didn’t know where it would lead.
Eroticnoire’s replied: ‘You can sign up whenever you feel you’re ready and able to handle the lesson. It’s a practical lesson and I’d have to show you ’
The thought of meeting eroticnoire and squirting washed over her mind. She ticked off a list of why she should do it
- he’s local
- I get to meet the man behind the stories
- I’m horny
- It’s a distraction from Moses
- I don’t really want to go out
- And I finally get to squirt
Nkechi pondered on the idea of Eroticnoire’s invitation. Nkechi was stumped. Sparkles of inquisitiveness, arousal and caution crackled and popped in her head. Her phone vibrated again it was a missed call text from Adenike.
Hmmmm … she thought what do to
- Go out with the girls and see get up to mischief with the girls
- Go get some of Moses medicine
- Take up Eroticnoire on his invitation
Nkechi stood in her living room weighing up the opportunities that had presented themselves all within the space of 30 minutes.
* cast your voice as to what Nkechi should do – cast your vote by Thursday 22nd Nov *
The votes have been cast and the readers have decided: Nkechi will meet Eroticnoire for her squirt lesson:
read the continuation of the story here