Till Death Do Us Part


…This is one of those love stories that you need not read in a hurry. It’s a story for all youth irrespective of whether you are still searching or ready to mingle. Whether you go to church or not and no matter your religion, you need to read this. Just relax, grab a bottle if possible and take your time. Don’t worry drinks on me… Enjoy!

It just happened to be one of those cold long lonely nights. I was having a warm shower when the doorbell rang. I had just hit the shower and so couldn’t answer it immediately. After some minutes it was my phone ringing too. If there was one thing I hated, it was having the doorbell ring during a warm shower or having to hear a vibration on my bedside table from my phone.

Normally I would have taken up to fifteen minutes or more in there, but the sounds from the bell and phone couldn’t allow me. I stepped out of the shower cubicle, took a towel from the rail, dried my body and grabbed my bathrobe as I stepped outside wearing it.

I went straight to the bedside table to check who was calling. It was Bayo my fiancé. Probably he wanted to tell me he was back from work. Immediately I called him back and as it was ringing, the doorbell rang again. Bayo had also answered the call as I walked towards the door. It was raining heavily that night and I couldn’t hear him clearly enough. I opened the door and was surprised at who I saw. I didn’t remember showing him my house except he watched me walk into my house the day he dropped me off.

I looked at the time on my phone; it was some minutes past 10 and before me was Bayo my fiancé. He was drenched and was obviously shivering where he stood. I looked left and looked right, but didn’t see his car anywhere outside. I was confused at what to say but just had to let him in. Without asking what happened I showed him to the bathroom to dry his body while I waited in the living room.

Bayo was this kind of guy that lived so much on principles. He had a Christian background and wasn’t just a church goer but the best praise leader in the choir. Unlike me he was devoted to working for God and made sure he did what the church perceived right before God and man. Since he made his intentions of wanting to marry me known to our pastor, we have never visited each other. His work doesn’t give him chance to see me during the day and he was totally against us meeting at night. The only place we had time to discuss was after church services.

Here I am in the living room and Bayo in my bathroom, with his clothes wet. I was at the same time scared and a bit excited. I was scared because our wedding was in a week time and the Bayo I know will for no reason visit me at this time. I was a bit excited too because I know how much I have wanted us to spend a night together even if it was just for one  night and here was the opportunity. Bayo knew how naughty I was and it was his believe that I would take a new leave. He actually was the reason I started attending church services. We met in a workshop organized by his church.

I had a lot fluxing through my mind when he walked into the living room on one of my bathrobes. Obviously he wasn’t going home and even if he was, not anytime soon. He slowly walked towards where I was and asked if I could make him tea. I still couldn’t say a word. I moved into the kitchen, made him the tea he asked for and came back.

After taking the first sip, he turned to me and said, “Why haven’t you said anything since I came in. You didn’t even ask me about my car and why I came here at this time. I immediately adjusted myself on the couch and cleared my throat as I managed to muffle out some words. I just didn’t know what to say. All I could say at that instance was to ask him how his day went at work. He told me it was fine only until few hours ago on his way back.

He had a flat tyre on his way home in a very dangerous spot, some distance away from my place and he stopped under the rain to replace it only for the car not start anymore when he finished. He had to find his way to my apartment on foot. As he finished narrating, he paused and asked me in a rather quiet and scared voice. “Can I pass the night here? At least my clothes could dry up before tomorrow, and then I could find someone to fix my car”. Immediately he said this my heart skipped, and at this moment I remembered I had done the most improper thing: answering the doorbell with just a bathrobe. I had nothing underneath the robe I had worn. Without the robe I was naked. What if it were robbers, raping me would have been so easy.

I knew Bayo had no intentions, but for me I couldn’t let the night pass by. My friends had told me they suspected he was impotent and I needed to be sure before our wedding. Rather than asking if he had had anything to eat, I asked if he was ready to sleep. His reply was he would have loved to but definitely not on an empty stomach. I just couldn’t hold my urges. I felt like jumping on him. I couldn’t even walked straight as I went into the kitchen to get something ready for him. We moved to the dinning and as he ate, I watched him keenly like I was viewing a movie.

After the meal, he thanked me and we went back to the living room. My apartment was a 2-bedroom flat which meant that he wasn’t going to be in my room. But how could my ‘devilish’ plans work if I don’t have him sleep in my room. It wouldn’t be easy but not impossible I thought. I looked at the time again and it was 11pm. He started a conversation about how nice my apartment was and how he loved the way I arranged the living room.

Along the line, the question of how many rooms popped up and I had to clear my throat first. I was afraid if I said one he would know I wasn’t saying the truth. I just covered up with something else. I couldn’t even look at his eyes, all I could have myself doing was staring at his lips as he spoke wishing he would ask for sex right there on the couch. I felt my tight clits losing up gently as it got wet. It needed no foreplay from Bayo to get in the mood. It was all ready and hungry for action.


Photo Credit: taobao.lazada.sg



About TheScribe

In one sentence, TheScribe is a writer that makes writing his forte. Call him a writerholic and you wont be wrong.

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