IN THE WITCHING HOUR

IN THE WITCHING HOUR

Fear is good; it reminds us we’re still alive. Courage is better; it helps us navigate strategically beyond fear.

*

2: 14 am

The night was alive with the croaking noises of toads. It was apparently their breeding season and the entire estate was plagued with their incessant croaking at night. I had just downloaded the ninth episode of the third season of Orange is the New Black, when MTN alerted me that my midnight bundle had been exhausted. So, I went on to Grindr as I usually do whenever I’m bored; these days, I log on there to chat without expectations.

It was in this very early morning – or very late night – that he sent the message.

Hey.

Hi, I replied.

How are you, he typed.

To which I replied: Besides my molar toothache and croaking toads, I’m lovely.

He was direct in his approach. He was awake and horny. I was awake and in the mood for an adventure. And since we were both in the estate, he asked if we could meet.

Sure, I responded, just because I have proper manners.

However, I told him we would have to meet at a middle ground – Close 50. He acquiesced and we exchanged contacts. Thereafter I snuck out of the house.

While I was a little way off, I decided to video-call him. And I saw he was still at home, trying to get his shoes on. At least, he was human. He assured me that he was on his way out to meet me.

I kept chatting with him and informed him when I got to Close 50. He told me he was on his way. Reacting to some instinct of self preservation, I decided to move to Close 52, where I waited patiently behind the overgrown tall grass. Minutes later, he chatted me up to let me know he was at Close 52 already, approaching 50. From my hideout, I observed him to know whether he was with company and whether I could manage to take him on should things go awry. When I’d made my determination and seen that he was alone, I emerged, telling him I’d seen him.

He was a hunk. He was handsome. He smelled like he bathed with an expensive perfume. His fitted outfit showed off his muscles lavishly, arms the size of my thighs, and firm abs and pecs very well defined by his fitted shirt.

We greeted with handshakes. He was macho in all ramifications.

Focus, I told myself, trying not to get lost in my admiration of his physique.

So I focused – on his face, on his slanted, pretty eyes. The guy was a walking, talking, breathing distraction.

He had an accent, and I was reminded that earlier in our chat, he’d told me he’d just returned from the States. Without much ado, we began deliberating over where we’d fuck, since the estate was very well lit. It would be unwise to fuck on the roadside or in the park, which was often patrolled by security. Even if the security didn’t have patrol, the park was also well lit. He suggested his house, but oh no, too soon. So I suggested we find a corner on Road 2; Road 2 had many dark corners (this much I’d gathered from the many night walks I was used to taking). He agreed, leaving our safety up to my judgment.

We talked as we walked, getting to know each other some more. Then we got to Road 26, a link to Road 2. And there, we found our dark alley.

I was shy. Finally confronted with all the macho I’d long since craved for and thirsted after for ages, I was shy. Then I swallowed my shyness, leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled back a hair’s breadth, resisting for just a split second, and then drew me in, as though he’d needed to evaluate my taste first.

He grabbed me by the waist and we kissed passionately. He slowly slid his broad palm into my draws, slipping his fat finger into my already dilated hole (from a session with a friend-with-benefits the previous day).

I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by his muscles and the excitement of the public place we were that I let go of the control of my outer anal ring to the dictates of his fat middle finger, my hands grabbing at his body – his shoulder, his pecs, his ass, everything solid and pulsating underneath my touch.

I pulled down his tight elastic shorts and got down on one knee, as if to propose, and I buried his fat, thick, heavy dick in my mouth, straight down to my throat. The taste of this dick was just indescribable and gave me such joy as I bobbed my head ferociously back and forth. He moaned as I took his dick all in and out, sucking him like he was feeding me the tastiest lollipop ever.

Eventually, I pulled away and stood. And he began begging me to let him fuck me. Unfortunately, neither of us brought any condoms or lube, so I declined. Then he gently requested that I give him a hand job.

I knelt again on one knee, and with all pleasure, took that thick dick in my mouth again for another round of blow. He was moaning again, with one head placed on the back of my head to guide his thrusts into my mouth. With the other hand, he lifted his shirt over his head, exposing his sculpted torso. I reached my hand upward to cup his right pecs, my fingers getting familiar with the nipple. Then I slowly slid back up and we locked lips again, while I jerked him off. His hand also made its way into my pants and he started jerking me off. And so, we were both jerking each other off simultaneously.

We kissed like our satisfaction depended on it and after a few minutes of intense kisses and wanking, I could feel from his sharpened groans that he was about to cum. And so, I increased the speed of my wanking, holding his cock slightly harder as my hand shot back and forth over the dick. We came within seconds of each other. He jerked spasmodically against my body as he came, his warm cum erupting all over my hand and his breath exploding harshly against my face, whereas I was quieter and steadier with my ejaculation.

And just there and there, I felt like going home with him and cuddling up into his bed with him.

Instead we wiped the cum off our hands as we adjusted our clothing over our bodies, walked out to the T-junction and shared a final kiss goodbye before walking back to our respective houses.

 

3: 05 am

I snuck back into the house, praying that my absence hadn’t been noticed by someone wondering the house at night. I washed my hands to get off the dry cum, and rinsed my mouth reluctantly; I wanted to savor his taste a little while longer.

And then I went to bed, slipping off to sleep with the ease of someone who has just had everything in his life righted by the universe.

Written by Jay Armstrong

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4 Comments

  1. Babyfwesh
    June 15, 08:44 Reply

    Biko where do u pple see all dis hunks in lagos. Me sef I want a hunk in my life o 😂

  2. Mandy
    June 15, 12:35 Reply

    This has to be a hookup in Lekki or Victoria Island. Cos only in such places would Grindr hookup go the way you see on TV. No kito, no lynching, no set up. Just ping someone at 2 am, stroll out, meet the person, exchange blow jobs, and return to your bed.
    *sigh* 🙁

  3. Olacolar
    June 15, 13:50 Reply

    It doesn’t necessarily have to be lekki in magodo phase1 before it became this developed I have caught friends (straight) doings it in dark corners on the street behind a flower near their gate

  4. Dickson Clement
    June 16, 20:34 Reply

    One word ‘whore’ lols! Yassss!
    Category is- 22nd century whores!

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