The Gardener
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The Gardener. free porn video
It is a Friday evening in the dry season, and a group of former classmates is in the garden of a bar in a quiet, prosperous village in Onitsha. Former classmates, but not by much. These young people finished school about a month ago and are in that odd dry season limbo that precedes the onset of the rest of their lives, in the form of work or University (or, indeed, unemployment). One of the group, a handsome but rather diffident boy called Uche, is explaining his plans for the rest of the summer.
“So I’ve had these flyers printed, right, and what I’m going to do, I’m actually going to knock on doors and talk to people rather than just push the flyers through letterboxes, try to make some personal contact. Hopefully get a couple of jobs straight away, then a bit of word of mouth gets round. Dad’s still got all his gear and the van, said I can use it, so there’s no outlay for me. All I want to do first of all is make enough for myself and Chinwe's holiday at the end of the summer, then that’ll prove to Dad that I can make a go of it longer term.”
He passes round a few of the flyers, to general approbation. “Uche Ekobe. A Name You Can Trust. All Types of Gardening Work Undertaken.” they proclaim.
Chuks the banker’s son, cuts in with his overbearing drawl: “Well, Uche, mate, this is all well and good but it looks like a lot of effort to me. Can’t you get your old man to sub you and Chinwe for the holiday? I know that’s what I’d do …”
Chinwe, Uche's girlfriend, defends her lover like a mother tiger would its young: “Chuks, could you maybe do yourself and all of us a favour by taking a day off – just a day, to start with – from being a twat, yeah?”
Chinwe's tough inner- Onitsha upbringing and Ijaw ancestry combine with a sharp intelligence and sharper tongue to give her a maverick status within the group: a speaker of truth to the middle-class, provincial complacency of her peers. She is now clearly winding up for one of her set-piece rants. Thing is, right, Chuks we all know your Dad’s fucking rolling in money. We know because you remind us all on a daily basis, yeah, and it’s how you end up going skiing in the Maldives or scuba diving in the Alps or whatever it is he pays for you to do whenever you get a little bit bored. Now I’m saying nothing about how your Dad makes his cash. Nothing at all. Nothing about the City and banks and stocks and hedge funds and all that dodgy shit that brought the fucking world to its knees, right? I mean, that was all your Dad’s doing, yeah? He was personally responsible for all of it, and if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t doing his job properly, cos that’s his job, right? Fucking over normal people and getting rich on it. And you know as well as I do that Uche's Dad had a real job, right, using his hands and his skill, and the strain that put on his body means he can’t work now. And I tell you, Chuks, and I’m serious now, I am so, so fucking proud of Uche for trying to make a go of this and keep his Dad’s skills alive, and do something real, like real, proper work, and then enjoy the fruits of it. Cos I’m telling you, boy, you could be in the Maldives or the Alps or on the fucking moon while Uche and me are in Ogbudu cattle ranch, but every drink by the pool, every long, lazy afternoon, is gonna be a thousand times sweeter than you can imagine, cos Uche and I will have worked for it. So, Chuks. Stop being a twat. You twat.”
Chuks to his credit, raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fair play, Chinwe guilty as charged. Sorry, Uche mate, no offence to you or your old man, yeah? Who wants another drink?”
Chuks goes to the bar. Uche gazes adoringly at Chinwe, for whom he harbours the very special devotion that a young man reserves for the girl who has recently relieved him of his virginity. He resolves to express his gratitude later that evening with some particularly attentive cunnilingus – a practice for which he has discovered a natural aptitude. For a moment he is lost in a daydream, in which he is lowering his face to the moist, musky warmth between Chinwe’s slim thighs. At the sound of little Oge's quiet, sensible voice he snaps back to the present and shifts in his seat to conceal his suddenly surging erection.
“So, Uche, where are you going to start?”
“Er, well, I thought I’d work my way down the estate, I know all the people there well so that should be a good start, then try the big houses on Jezco Drive. Big gardens and hopefully a bit of cash to spend.”
Chuks has returned with the drinks. “Jezco Drive, eh? Mrs Milf’s house? Watch out, Chinwe.
Chinwe again: “Jesus, Chuks, are you on dickhead overtime today? I just don’t get this ‘Mrs Milf’ thing with Nneka Ekwealor. Since I’ve been working in the shop I’ve chatted to her a lot – she’s a really nice, normal woman. Just cos she’s younger and prettier than most of our mums, everybody makes out she’s like this predatory cougar or something. Seriously, has anyone seen anything to suggest that she’s anything other than happily married and faithful to Ejike?”
No answer from the group.
“See? And anyway,” with a sly grin, “Nneka Ekwealor may be young and pretty but she’d have her work cut out taking my Uche from me.”
Uche smiles shyly, and shifts in his seat again.
The next day Uche embarks on his project, trying to sell his gardening services to the good people of the village. A few expressions of interest, a couple conditional on “seeing what my husband/wife thinks.” One quick and easy lawn mowing job on the estate. A start, at least. Then to Jezco Drive. Big, detached houses, set back from the road. Should be a goldmine. Number twelve. The Ekwealor’ place. He is oddly apprehensive. He rings the bell. Mrs Ekwealor answers. She looks younger than the 38 years which are generally attributed to her. She is smiling, wearing a sundress over a bikini, with outsized sunglasses pushed back onto her head. Tanned, petite, shapely, busty, really very pretty, with blue eyes, high cheekbones, and long chestnut hair tied back into a ponytail. She embarks on a typical outpouring of cheerful niceness.
“Oh hello Uche, long time! How are you these days? Are you looking for Ifenna? I’m afraid he’s out for the day. Gone to the coast with Amaka. I told him they’d be sitting in traffic all day, in this heat, they’d be better off in our garden, but he was determined to whisk her away. Young love, eh? I hear you and Chinwe are an item? I see her quite a lot at the shop, you know. Lovely, lovely girl. So clever and funny. Brings a bit of life to this place. Lovely looking, too, you lucky boy. So, yes, I can tell Ifenna you were looking for him, if you like.”
“Actually, Mrs Ekwealor…”
“Nneka please, Uche.” “Actually, it wasn’t Ifenna I was after. I was wondering if there was any gardening work you needed doing.” He offers her a flyer.
“Oh gosh, how super!” She really does say “super”. She must be the last person alive to use that word without ironic detachment. “So you’re taking over your father’s business! Oh, Uche, I think that’s wonderful!”
“Well, for the moment I’m just trying out, seeing if I can earn enough for Chinwe and me to go on holiday.”
“Oh lovely! We’re just back from France, you know Amaka came with us. We had a lovely time. Where are you and Chinwe going?”
“Ogbudu cattle ranch, that’s the plan … so … um … Mrs … Nneka do you think you can … er … make use of me?”
Why on earth did he phrase it like that?
“Well, you know, Uche, I was just sunbathing out in the garden now, and I was just thinking, after we’ve been away for a couple of weeks, it does need a really good tidy up, and Ejike is away on business again, and I’d have a go myself but I’m really a bit clueless with all of that, and, look, how about you come through, take a look at it, see if there’s anything you can do to knock it into a bit of shape, eh?”
Mrs Ekwealor sunbathing in her garden. During Uche's adolescence, that had been the holy grail of the boys on the estate. Make friends with Ifenna Ekwealor and find an excuse to go round to his place on a sunny afternoon when his Mum was sunbathing. It was well known that she sometimes went topless, or even nude – everybody knew someone who knew someone who had once seen, like, everything. Nobody could remember exactly who, though, or when. Uche walks through the spacious house, out through the French windows at the back, into the large, rather rambling garden, and looks around. Well, there’s a few hours work, he thinks. Lawn, bushes. The flower and herb bed edges need re-doing. Weed the beds themselves. That wet spell followed by the heatwave sent everything growing like crazy.
“It’s a lovely garden, all right. Tell you what, Nneka, how about I give this a couple of hours of general clear-up, then we see how it looks and if you want anything else done, maybe another day. I can start now, if you don’t mind the disturbance.” He names a price and she agrees.
“Oh Uche, you’re an absolute darling. Thank you so much. Now, it’s ever so hot, so how about if I leave a cool box with some bottles of water on it here on the patio, yes? So you can just help yourself. I’ll put a couple of beers in there too, as a treat.” Furtive giggle. “You don’t mind me staying out here while you work, do you? Only it seems a shame to be indoors on such a glorious afternoon.”
“Ah, no, that’s fine, very good of you, Nneka. It might just get a bit noisy with the mower, that’s all. But if you don’t mind that … Well, right, I’ll get my gear out of the truck and bring it round, if that’s OK?”
By the time he is lugging the petrol mower round the side of the house, Nneka Ekwealor has resumed what he guesses was her previous position, lying on her back on a sun lounger on the patio. The sundress has come off and she is wearing a scarlet bikini. Halter neck, with shaped cups to support her large breasts. The bikini briefs are cut low on her hips. Her skin is evenly tanned. The sunglasses are over her eyes so Uche can’t tell whether she can tell how much he is or is not looking at her. The drinks cool box is next to her. Uche makes a very determined effort to look straight ahead and focus on his work.
As he gets going. Nneka watches him. He is a lean, athletic boy, strong and with a certain ease and grace to his movements, all the more apparent after he has taken off his t-shirt and the sweat is shining on his tanned skin. His baggy khaki shorts sit low on his hips, showing his fine physique to great advantage.
He is trying very hard indeed not to look at her, and not to need a drink. But it’s hot work. He mows the lawn without a break, but once he cuts the mower engine and silence descends, he knows he needs some water. He turns towards the patio. Nneka is now lying face down on the lounger. Is she asleep? As he reaches for a bottle of water, she says in a drowsy voice, “Uche, would you be a sweetheart and put some lotion on my back, please?”
“Er … um … yes, of course … I’ll just wash my hands in the kitchen if that’s OK?” When he emerges from the kitchen she is still face down but has unfastened her bikini top so that, from the back, there is nothing covering her above the waist. It’s not like he can see anything – her breasts are resting in the cups of the bikini top which is underneath her – but still he stops for a second to catch his breath. Ifenna Ekwealor's mum, sunbathing topless. Face down, but topless. His younger self would have crawled over broken glass to see this, to be here. Come on, he says to himself, grow up, you’re an adult now, you’ve got a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend and it’s absolutely certain you will have sex with her before the end of the day. So, if the very pleasant, friendly Mrs Ekwealor asks you to rub sun lotion onto her naked back, that’s fine, you’re just lending a hand. Be adult about this, Uche.
He picks up the lotion bottle. It’s a spray one. “Where would you like it, Mrs … er … Nneka?” Christ, how dodgy did that sound?
“Oh, if you could just spray it on me and then rub it in as much as possible, that would be lovely.” What is this, he thinks, National Innuendo Day? But, obliging lad that he is, he sprays the lotion generously onto her slim, tanned torso. There are no tan lines on her back or shoulders, so he guesses that the bikini top never stays on for very long. He starts to massage the lotion into her shoulder blades.
“Mmm, that’s lovely, Uche You know, for such a strong boy you’ve got ever such a gentle touch.”
Chinwe says this to him as well, and he is proud of it. Maybe it’s exactly because he likes working with his hands that he knows how to moderate his own strength, and to be subtle and exact as well as powerful. He likes to think so. He is being very, very careful indeed not to let his hands stray down off the upper surface of her back, anywhere near the sides of her breasts which are squashed under her.
“Ooh, could you just do a bit lower down, Uche dear? Thank you.”
He works his way down to the small of her back, towards the waistband of her bikini briefs, to the start of the swell of her neat, round buttocks. He is utterly determined, quite against the odds, not to get an erection. To distract himself, he looks up. The house is on the outside of a curve in the road, and what with that and the high fences on both sides, the patio is not visible from the neighbours’ upstairs windows. No wonder she finds it so easy to take her clothes off out here. At the back, the tall bushes do not quite block the view from the nearest house, which is a way off anyway, but he knocked on that door earlier and there is nobody in.
Mmm, thank you my dear, that was lovely.” She is calling a halt, thank God. And he didn’t get a hard-on. Round one to Chinwe
“I’ll, er, start on those bushes now, if that’s OK.” Hurriedly, he resumes his work.
For a while he has his back to her as he deals with the thick vegetation at the far end of the garden. He turns to pick up a pair of secateurs from his toolbox and sees that Nneka is sitting upright on the edge of the sun lounger, slowly and lovingly massaging sun lotion into her big, full, naked breasts. He can’t look. He can’t look away. He is wearing sunglasses so can probably just get away with a glance. She’s spraying the stuff onto them, lifting them in her hands, squeezing them, rubbing them. Little finishing touches to the nipples with her fingertips. Fuck. She is looking straight at him, with her boobs in her hands, and smiling sweetly. Oh God. He grabs the secateurs and turns to busy himself with the plants. His heart is racing. And there is no escaping the fact that there is now the beginning of an erection in his shorts.
He finishes the plants at the furthest end of the garden. Now he has to work his way back up to the house. And he is very thirsty, with the start of a headache. He really needs some water. Water which, of course, he left in the cool box next to Nneka's sun lounger. Why the fuck did he not bring it with him? Deep breath, Uche. Just do your work and keep yourself hydrated. She’s just put lotion all over her tits herself, she can’t possibly ask you to do that. Get some water or you’ll make yourself ill.
He strides purposefully to the patio and heads for the cool box. She’s lying on her back, breasts fully exposed. Was her hand at her crotch for a split second before she saw him approaching? Surely not. He stands next to her lounger to pick up the water. Should he say something? He looks down at her. She has folded her arms across her torso, so that her breasts are lifted and pushed together. Her nipples are visibly hard. He looks away hurriedly. She says, very softly, “It’s OK, Uche Don’t worry. It’s all right to look.”
“Er … no … I mean … sorry … Mrs … Nneka…” Again, very softly: “I’m telling you, Uche, it’s OK if you want to look at my breasts. It’s normal, natural. I know you’ve got Chinwe, and she’s a gorgeous, sexy girl. I’m not suggesting otherwise. But I know I’ve got a nice body too, and I know a young man like you can’t help but want to look at me. So, take your time, drink your water, and look at my breasts if you want to.”
It would seem rude to carry on looking away. So he doesn’t stop himself from looking down at her. She carries on talking, in any case, so he can tell himself he’s looking at her face and not at the glorious bare bosom a few inches below it. And that she is looking at his face, and not at his flat, toned stomach and the fine line of dark hair that leads from his navel down into the waistband of his shorts, where a bulge is clearly forming.
“Maybe it’s a nice contrast for you, Uche I mean, I’ve noticed Chinwe has got those lovely pert, pointy little boobs, hardly needs to wear a bra. In fact sometimes she doesn’t, I’ve noticed that too. And they’re ever so nice, but maybe it’s nice for you to see some big ones like mine, too. What do you think?” It sounds such an innocent question, as if she’s asking his opinion on a plant in the garden. Uche's head is spinning not only from his proximity to Nneka Ekwealor's naked breasts but also from the notion that Nneka has been checking out Chinwe's tits in the village shop. What the fuck can he say?
“Oh … er … yes … well, thank you … yes … very nice … I’d, er better do that herb bed …” He returns to his equipment, slowed slightly by the erection that he hopes to God she has not noticed.
Should he just make an excuse, pack up and go? Risk losing money, the word-of-mouth recommendations, the start of his business, his ability to keep his promises to Chinwe and Dad? The holiday in Ogbudu cattle ranch? She’s just bored and winding you up, he tells himself. It’s all harmless. He begins to apply himself, with great concentration, to the task of recutting the edge of the herb bed. That’s better.
Fucking hell, he’s left the water bottle up there again. How long can he carry on in this heat without a drink? A long time, actually, almost but not quite long enough to finish what he had set out to do. Until a stray blade of grass from the cuttings pile he created earlier, that he is going to put in the compost bin at the end, is picked up by the gentle summer breeze and floats into his mouth, catching at the back of his throat. He coughs and splutters violently. Resistance is useless. He has to have some water.
Oh Jesus Christ. She’s face down again now but she’s … is she? … yes she is. Naked. At some point she has removed her bikini briefs. The skin on her bottom is only very slightly paler than the rest of her, suggesting that it gets a fair bit of exposure. She is lying on her front with her legs together. Uche is very careful to walk round the side of her to remove any risk of looking at her directly from behind. He prays that she is asleep. He stoops for the water bottle. Again the drowsy voice: “Uche, my dear, I’m sorry to be a pain, but would you be ever so kind and put a bit more lotion on me?”
His heart pounds. “Nneka… are you sure?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind, that is. On my bottom where the bikini was, and a bit on the backs of my thighs, if that’s OK?”
Is that OK? Really, is it OK? Massaging sun lotion into Nneka Ekwealor's naked buttocks and thighs? Is that OK by you, Chinwe Of course it fucking isn’t. But there’s a limit to how much the presence in a young man’s life of a beautiful, charismatic and sexually enthusiastic girlfriend can do, to hold him back from following his deeper instincts when opportunities present themselves. And he is very very close to that limit now. He washes his hands in the kitchen again, returns to the patio. He tries to position himself so he is looking down Chinwe's body towards her feet, not up towards the cleft between her legs. He kneels next to the lounger, sprays the lotion onto her bum cheeks and begins to rub it in. Deep breath.
“Ooh, that’s lovely, Uche.” Damn his skill, damn his dexterity. She is loving this. Still in that drowsy, dreamy voice: “Uche was Chinwe your, you know, your first real girlfriend?”
“Er … yes, yes she was”
“And you were her first boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“That’s lovely. Ejike and I were like that, you know. We were married and I’d had Ifenna by the time I was about your age. And you know what, I have only strayed from Ejike once …” Why the fuck is she telling him this? “… and that was with a man who had only been with one woman, and she’d only been with him. I know they call me Mrs Milf but really if you were to draw a diagram of my sexual connections, it would be pretty small.”
He starts to see where this may be heading. And still he is massaging her buttocks. He starts to feel a tiny, rhythmic tensing of the muscles under his hands. Almost imperceptibly, she is very very softly grinding her pelvis against the towel underneath her.
“Does Chinwe like you massaging her, Uche?”
“Yes, yes she does.”
“What else does she like?”
“She … she likes me … she likes me to use my mouth.” The Rubicon has been crossed.
Very quietly: “Would you like to use your mouth on me, Uche?” He says nothing at all for a long while. Then, barely audibly: “Yes.”
Uche Ekobe. A Name You Can Trust.
Sorry, Chinwe.
Nmeka turns onto her back and slides down to the end of the sun lounger. Lying back, she flexes and spreads her legs so that her cunt is completely exposed. He kneels in front of her. For a moment he admires her full naked glory. He is pleased to see her dark brown pubes, trimmed just enough for the bikini. Perhaps unusually for a young man these days, he likes female pubic hair – he has encouraged Chinwe not to depilate herself fully. He bows his head between her legs and nuzzles at her hairy mound. He inhales deeply to immerse himself in the musky aroma of her arousal. He kisses her there, softly. Then works his way with gentle kisses down to her moist slit. Licks it with long upward strokes of his tongue. She whimpers. He sucks her outer labia into his wide open mouth and slips the tip of his tongue between them so that she is in him and he is in her. Holds that position for a while. Then pushes his tongue further in. She reaches down so she can hold herself open for him. He focuses on her clit for a while, with rapid little flicks of his tongue. She moans much more loudly now. The thought flashes though his mind that although the neighbours can’t see into Nneka's garden, if they are outdoors they can no doubt hear everything. Now he pushes the first two fingers of his right hand, slowly but firmly, into her vagina as far as they will go. She shouts out load. He explores and probes with his tongue, licking the rim of her cunt hole where his fingers are filling it, then up to her clit, then down to he hole again, all the while steadily finger-fucking her and curling his fingers slightly to locate her G spot. She is gasping and moaning loudly. Must be audible all down the street on this quiet afternoon. Suddenly her body tenses and she grabs his head, pulling his face hard down into her crotch. “Oh FUCK!” she yells, “Fuck, fuck, YES! Oh your FUCKING tongue!” He feels the spasms of her orgasm against his mouth and fingers. They seem to go on for ever. Then finally her body relaxes and she gives a faint little giggle. He slowly withdraws his fingers from her, and kneels back on his haunches. His erection chafes against the inside of his shorts.
“Oh Uche” she gasps, again with that little laugh.”Oh God you’re good. You’re a super cuntlicker, Uche Lucky Chinwe. Oh fuck I needed that.”
He is stunned, speechless. His lips and chin are glazed with her juices.
“Uche I’d like to return the favour.” Still getting her breath back.
He says nothing. That gentle, coaxing voice again: “Uche, my dear, I’d love to suck your cock. Would you like that, Uche? If you don’t mind.”
If he doesn’t mind. If it’s not going to inconvenience him in any way.
She sits up on the lounger. He stands close in front of her, lets her undo his shorts and pull them and his underpants down his legs. He steps out of them and is naked, and fully erect.
“Oh what a lovely young cock,” she whispers.
Chinwe is an enthusiastic cocksucker, of course, but her technique is rather full-on, deep and strong. Uche has never felt anything quite like the sensation that he experiences as Nneka takes his swollen knob into her pretty mouth. So slow, so soft, so careful that all he feels is an enveloping warm wetness, He cannot even discern tongue and lips. She is, of course, of a generation that did not learn sex from internet porn. It is almost enough to make him come straight away but somehow he holds back. She draws back, plants little delicate kisses all down his shaft, cups his tense balls in her small hand, licks them slowly. Then back up to his cock end, letting her mouth melt onto it as she holds his rigid shaft steady. She has taken off her sunglasses and is looking up at him with those big, smiling blue eyes. He strokes her thick brown hair gently. She sets up the gentlest possible back-and-forth rhythm with a slight rocking of her head. His breathing begins to get deeper. Not far off now. Then she pulls away.
“Uche, would you like to come inside me?”
He can barely speak. “But I haven’t got any … you know …”
“It’s OK, Uche. Remember what I said about the diagram? It’s safe. And I’m on the Pill. Nothing can happen. I like it from behind, Uche Would you like to fuck me from behind?”
He nods, wordlessly. Businesslike, she gets up, takes the towel from the sunlounger and spreads it on the patio. She gets down on it on her elbows and knees, raises her naked rear end towards him. Her cunt is still moist and swollen from the licking he gave it before.
“Please Uche, put it in me. I want it in me.” Her voice is soft and insistent. “I’d love you to come inside me while I’m still wet. I know you must be bursting for it. You can just use me, Uche. Use my cunt as a receptacle for you to come in. Fill me up … aaah … yessss … oh you’re fucking big …”
He has interrupted her monologue by pushing his cock all the way into her. He holds onto her hips. No long porno thrusts, more a steady, rolling, grinding movement, keeping his cock as far inside her as it will go. Sweat is streaming down his body onto hers. He has taken his sunglasses off and the sunlight is blinding. Perhaps his pupils are dilating. He squints as he looks down at her small neat body, bent over to receive him. He grabs at her big tits where they are swinging and bouncing under her. Grinding faster now. Then moving to proper thrusts, using more of the length of his shaft. The way Lucy likes it. Chinwe Oh my God, Chinwe. Nneka is moaning and whimpering. “Oh fuck yes, Uche, fuck my cunt, fill me up with your big young cock, fuck me, come in me, pump my cunt full of your spunk.” He holds her hips again and gives a few last really hard pushes, then lets out a great, neighbour-waking roar as his cum pours out of him and into her. So much it feels more like one long stream than a series of spurts. The base of his cock is actually hurting from the v******e of his ejaculation.
They hold still like that for a while, both gasping and sweating. She murmurs “Oh Uche. Oh Uche that was fucking beautiful.” He now thinks he heard some movement next door on the other side of the fence. Or did he? And what can he do, anyway? His erection begins to subside inside her body. He bows his head, gazing at her lovely arse as it glistens with sweat. Slowly his cock slides out of her.
“Oops!” she says. A dribble of his cum has run down her leg. She grabs the towel, stands up and starts dabbing and wiping at her cunt. “Gosh, Uche, that was a lot! It’s dripping everywhere!” she giggles.
In the pocket of his discarded shorts, his mobile phone rings. He is naked and still semi-erect as he fumbles for the phone. It is Chinwe, Insanely, he answers it.
“Hiya babe, you all right?” Her voice is cheerful and carefree.
“Er … hi … er … yeah … I’ve … I’ve just been doing …” He can barely speak.
“You OK? You sound knackered!”
“Yeah, I’ve just been doing Nneka… doing Nneka Ekwealor's garden. Round the back.”
“She been working you hard, babe?” Laughing. “Yeah … yeah … needed quite a lot of work … hadn’t had much attention recently … needed a proper going-over. It’s hot.”
A lascivious cackle. “Babe, have you any idea how filthy that all sounds if you don’t know the context?”
He laughs nervously. Nneka has finished cleaning herself up and is – no, she can’t be – oh fuck, she is – she is kneeling, still naked, and wiping his cock clean with a tissue while he talks to Chinwe. He looks down at her; she mouths “Say hello to Chinwe from me,” as she dabs at his sticky glans.
“Er … Nneka says hello.”
“Great, tell her hello from me and I’ll see her in the shop soon. Listen babe, I’ll let you get on but see you later, yeah? And well done on working today, yeah? I’m fucking proud of you, Uche. Just keep a bit of strength in reserve for tonight, right?” Another dirty laugh.
“Yeah, yeah of course. Better go. Love you.”
“Love you, Uche.” She hangs up.
Nneka, still naked, is now standing in front of him holding out a chilled bottle of beer in one hand and, in the other, a bundle of banknotes that looks like way more than the price they agreed. There are definitely voices on the opposite side of the fence now. And was the window of the house behind Nneka's already open before he got there? Fucking hell, what have they heard?
Uche, you can have one drink even though you’re driving, can’t you? You’ve certainly worked for it. And here’s your payment, with a little extra to help you get started. When would you like to come back and do the rest?”
“Erm … whenever works for you, really, Nneka.”
“Super. Thank you Uche. You’re a good boy.”
They face each other in the sunlit garden, naked.
“So I’ve had these flyers printed, right, and what I’m going to do, I’m actually going to knock on doors and talk to people rather than just push the flyers through letterboxes, try to make some personal contact. Hopefully get a couple of jobs straight away, then a bit of word of mouth gets round. Dad’s still got all his gear and the van, said I can use it, so there’s no outlay for me. All I want to do first of all is make enough for myself and Chinwe's holiday at the end of the summer, then that’ll prove to Dad that I can make a go of it longer term.”
He passes round a few of the flyers, to general approbation. “Uche Ekobe. A Name You Can Trust. All Types of Gardening Work Undertaken.” they proclaim.
Chuks the banker’s son, cuts in with his overbearing drawl: “Well, Uche, mate, this is all well and good but it looks like a lot of effort to me. Can’t you get your old man to sub you and Chinwe for the holiday? I know that’s what I’d do …”
Chinwe, Uche's girlfriend, defends her lover like a mother tiger would its young: “Chuks, could you maybe do yourself and all of us a favour by taking a day off – just a day, to start with – from being a twat, yeah?”
Chinwe's tough inner- Onitsha upbringing and Ijaw ancestry combine with a sharp intelligence and sharper tongue to give her a maverick status within the group: a speaker of truth to the middle-class, provincial complacency of her peers. She is now clearly winding up for one of her set-piece rants. Thing is, right, Chuks we all know your Dad’s fucking rolling in money. We know because you remind us all on a daily basis, yeah, and it’s how you end up going skiing in the Maldives or scuba diving in the Alps or whatever it is he pays for you to do whenever you get a little bit bored. Now I’m saying nothing about how your Dad makes his cash. Nothing at all. Nothing about the City and banks and stocks and hedge funds and all that dodgy shit that brought the fucking world to its knees, right? I mean, that was all your Dad’s doing, yeah? He was personally responsible for all of it, and if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t doing his job properly, cos that’s his job, right? Fucking over normal people and getting rich on it. And you know as well as I do that Uche's Dad had a real job, right, using his hands and his skill, and the strain that put on his body means he can’t work now. And I tell you, Chuks, and I’m serious now, I am so, so fucking proud of Uche for trying to make a go of this and keep his Dad’s skills alive, and do something real, like real, proper work, and then enjoy the fruits of it. Cos I’m telling you, boy, you could be in the Maldives or the Alps or on the fucking moon while Uche and me are in Ogbudu cattle ranch, but every drink by the pool, every long, lazy afternoon, is gonna be a thousand times sweeter than you can imagine, cos Uche and I will have worked for it. So, Chuks. Stop being a twat. You twat.”
Chuks to his credit, raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fair play, Chinwe guilty as charged. Sorry, Uche mate, no offence to you or your old man, yeah? Who wants another drink?”
Chuks goes to the bar. Uche gazes adoringly at Chinwe, for whom he harbours the very special devotion that a young man reserves for the girl who has recently relieved him of his virginity. He resolves to express his gratitude later that evening with some particularly attentive cunnilingus – a practice for which he has discovered a natural aptitude. For a moment he is lost in a daydream, in which he is lowering his face to the moist, musky warmth between Chinwe’s slim thighs. At the sound of little Oge's quiet, sensible voice he snaps back to the present and shifts in his seat to conceal his suddenly surging erection.
“So, Uche, where are you going to start?”
“Er, well, I thought I’d work my way down the estate, I know all the people there well so that should be a good start, then try the big houses on Jezco Drive. Big gardens and hopefully a bit of cash to spend.”
Chuks has returned with the drinks. “Jezco Drive, eh? Mrs Milf’s house? Watch out, Chinwe.
Chinwe again: “Jesus, Chuks, are you on dickhead overtime today? I just don’t get this ‘Mrs Milf’ thing with Nneka Ekwealor. Since I’ve been working in the shop I’ve chatted to her a lot – she’s a really nice, normal woman. Just cos she’s younger and prettier than most of our mums, everybody makes out she’s like this predatory cougar or something. Seriously, has anyone seen anything to suggest that she’s anything other than happily married and faithful to Ejike?”
No answer from the group.
“See? And anyway,” with a sly grin, “Nneka Ekwealor may be young and pretty but she’d have her work cut out taking my Uche from me.”
Uche smiles shyly, and shifts in his seat again.
The next day Uche embarks on his project, trying to sell his gardening services to the good people of the village. A few expressions of interest, a couple conditional on “seeing what my husband/wife thinks.” One quick and easy lawn mowing job on the estate. A start, at least. Then to Jezco Drive. Big, detached houses, set back from the road. Should be a goldmine. Number twelve. The Ekwealor’ place. He is oddly apprehensive. He rings the bell. Mrs Ekwealor answers. She looks younger than the 38 years which are generally attributed to her. She is smiling, wearing a sundress over a bikini, with outsized sunglasses pushed back onto her head. Tanned, petite, shapely, busty, really very pretty, with blue eyes, high cheekbones, and long chestnut hair tied back into a ponytail. She embarks on a typical outpouring of cheerful niceness.
“Oh hello Uche, long time! How are you these days? Are you looking for Ifenna? I’m afraid he’s out for the day. Gone to the coast with Amaka. I told him they’d be sitting in traffic all day, in this heat, they’d be better off in our garden, but he was determined to whisk her away. Young love, eh? I hear you and Chinwe are an item? I see her quite a lot at the shop, you know. Lovely, lovely girl. So clever and funny. Brings a bit of life to this place. Lovely looking, too, you lucky boy. So, yes, I can tell Ifenna you were looking for him, if you like.”
“Actually, Mrs Ekwealor…”
“Nneka please, Uche.” “Actually, it wasn’t Ifenna I was after. I was wondering if there was any gardening work you needed doing.” He offers her a flyer.
“Oh gosh, how super!” She really does say “super”. She must be the last person alive to use that word without ironic detachment. “So you’re taking over your father’s business! Oh, Uche, I think that’s wonderful!”
“Well, for the moment I’m just trying out, seeing if I can earn enough for Chinwe and me to go on holiday.”
“Oh lovely! We’re just back from France, you know Amaka came with us. We had a lovely time. Where are you and Chinwe going?”
“Ogbudu cattle ranch, that’s the plan … so … um … Mrs … Nneka do you think you can … er … make use of me?”
Why on earth did he phrase it like that?
“Well, you know, Uche, I was just sunbathing out in the garden now, and I was just thinking, after we’ve been away for a couple of weeks, it does need a really good tidy up, and Ejike is away on business again, and I’d have a go myself but I’m really a bit clueless with all of that, and, look, how about you come through, take a look at it, see if there’s anything you can do to knock it into a bit of shape, eh?”
Mrs Ekwealor sunbathing in her garden. During Uche's adolescence, that had been the holy grail of the boys on the estate. Make friends with Ifenna Ekwealor and find an excuse to go round to his place on a sunny afternoon when his Mum was sunbathing. It was well known that she sometimes went topless, or even nude – everybody knew someone who knew someone who had once seen, like, everything. Nobody could remember exactly who, though, or when. Uche walks through the spacious house, out through the French windows at the back, into the large, rather rambling garden, and looks around. Well, there’s a few hours work, he thinks. Lawn, bushes. The flower and herb bed edges need re-doing. Weed the beds themselves. That wet spell followed by the heatwave sent everything growing like crazy.
“It’s a lovely garden, all right. Tell you what, Nneka, how about I give this a couple of hours of general clear-up, then we see how it looks and if you want anything else done, maybe another day. I can start now, if you don’t mind the disturbance.” He names a price and she agrees.
“Oh Uche, you’re an absolute darling. Thank you so much. Now, it’s ever so hot, so how about if I leave a cool box with some bottles of water on it here on the patio, yes? So you can just help yourself. I’ll put a couple of beers in there too, as a treat.” Furtive giggle. “You don’t mind me staying out here while you work, do you? Only it seems a shame to be indoors on such a glorious afternoon.”
“Ah, no, that’s fine, very good of you, Nneka. It might just get a bit noisy with the mower, that’s all. But if you don’t mind that … Well, right, I’ll get my gear out of the truck and bring it round, if that’s OK?”
By the time he is lugging the petrol mower round the side of the house, Nneka Ekwealor has resumed what he guesses was her previous position, lying on her back on a sun lounger on the patio. The sundress has come off and she is wearing a scarlet bikini. Halter neck, with shaped cups to support her large breasts. The bikini briefs are cut low on her hips. Her skin is evenly tanned. The sunglasses are over her eyes so Uche can’t tell whether she can tell how much he is or is not looking at her. The drinks cool box is next to her. Uche makes a very determined effort to look straight ahead and focus on his work.
As he gets going. Nneka watches him. He is a lean, athletic boy, strong and with a certain ease and grace to his movements, all the more apparent after he has taken off his t-shirt and the sweat is shining on his tanned skin. His baggy khaki shorts sit low on his hips, showing his fine physique to great advantage.
He is trying very hard indeed not to look at her, and not to need a drink. But it’s hot work. He mows the lawn without a break, but once he cuts the mower engine and silence descends, he knows he needs some water. He turns towards the patio. Nneka is now lying face down on the lounger. Is she asleep? As he reaches for a bottle of water, she says in a drowsy voice, “Uche, would you be a sweetheart and put some lotion on my back, please?”
“Er … um … yes, of course … I’ll just wash my hands in the kitchen if that’s OK?” When he emerges from the kitchen she is still face down but has unfastened her bikini top so that, from the back, there is nothing covering her above the waist. It’s not like he can see anything – her breasts are resting in the cups of the bikini top which is underneath her – but still he stops for a second to catch his breath. Ifenna Ekwealor's mum, sunbathing topless. Face down, but topless. His younger self would have crawled over broken glass to see this, to be here. Come on, he says to himself, grow up, you’re an adult now, you’ve got a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend and it’s absolutely certain you will have sex with her before the end of the day. So, if the very pleasant, friendly Mrs Ekwealor asks you to rub sun lotion onto her naked back, that’s fine, you’re just lending a hand. Be adult about this, Uche.
He picks up the lotion bottle. It’s a spray one. “Where would you like it, Mrs … er … Nneka?” Christ, how dodgy did that sound?
“Oh, if you could just spray it on me and then rub it in as much as possible, that would be lovely.” What is this, he thinks, National Innuendo Day? But, obliging lad that he is, he sprays the lotion generously onto her slim, tanned torso. There are no tan lines on her back or shoulders, so he guesses that the bikini top never stays on for very long. He starts to massage the lotion into her shoulder blades.
“Mmm, that’s lovely, Uche You know, for such a strong boy you’ve got ever such a gentle touch.”
Chinwe says this to him as well, and he is proud of it. Maybe it’s exactly because he likes working with his hands that he knows how to moderate his own strength, and to be subtle and exact as well as powerful. He likes to think so. He is being very, very careful indeed not to let his hands stray down off the upper surface of her back, anywhere near the sides of her breasts which are squashed under her.
“Ooh, could you just do a bit lower down, Uche dear? Thank you.”
He works his way down to the small of her back, towards the waistband of her bikini briefs, to the start of the swell of her neat, round buttocks. He is utterly determined, quite against the odds, not to get an erection. To distract himself, he looks up. The house is on the outside of a curve in the road, and what with that and the high fences on both sides, the patio is not visible from the neighbours’ upstairs windows. No wonder she finds it so easy to take her clothes off out here. At the back, the tall bushes do not quite block the view from the nearest house, which is a way off anyway, but he knocked on that door earlier and there is nobody in.
Mmm, thank you my dear, that was lovely.” She is calling a halt, thank God. And he didn’t get a hard-on. Round one to Chinwe
“I’ll, er, start on those bushes now, if that’s OK.” Hurriedly, he resumes his work.
For a while he has his back to her as he deals with the thick vegetation at the far end of the garden. He turns to pick up a pair of secateurs from his toolbox and sees that Nneka is sitting upright on the edge of the sun lounger, slowly and lovingly massaging sun lotion into her big, full, naked breasts. He can’t look. He can’t look away. He is wearing sunglasses so can probably just get away with a glance. She’s spraying the stuff onto them, lifting them in her hands, squeezing them, rubbing them. Little finishing touches to the nipples with her fingertips. Fuck. She is looking straight at him, with her boobs in her hands, and smiling sweetly. Oh God. He grabs the secateurs and turns to busy himself with the plants. His heart is racing. And there is no escaping the fact that there is now the beginning of an erection in his shorts.
He finishes the plants at the furthest end of the garden. Now he has to work his way back up to the house. And he is very thirsty, with the start of a headache. He really needs some water. Water which, of course, he left in the cool box next to Nneka's sun lounger. Why the fuck did he not bring it with him? Deep breath, Uche. Just do your work and keep yourself hydrated. She’s just put lotion all over her tits herself, she can’t possibly ask you to do that. Get some water or you’ll make yourself ill.
He strides purposefully to the patio and heads for the cool box. She’s lying on her back, breasts fully exposed. Was her hand at her crotch for a split second before she saw him approaching? Surely not. He stands next to her lounger to pick up the water. Should he say something? He looks down at her. She has folded her arms across her torso, so that her breasts are lifted and pushed together. Her nipples are visibly hard. He looks away hurriedly. She says, very softly, “It’s OK, Uche Don’t worry. It’s all right to look.”
“Er … no … I mean … sorry … Mrs … Nneka…” Again, very softly: “I’m telling you, Uche, it’s OK if you want to look at my breasts. It’s normal, natural. I know you’ve got Chinwe, and she’s a gorgeous, sexy girl. I’m not suggesting otherwise. But I know I’ve got a nice body too, and I know a young man like you can’t help but want to look at me. So, take your time, drink your water, and look at my breasts if you want to.”
It would seem rude to carry on looking away. So he doesn’t stop himself from looking down at her. She carries on talking, in any case, so he can tell himself he’s looking at her face and not at the glorious bare bosom a few inches below it. And that she is looking at his face, and not at his flat, toned stomach and the fine line of dark hair that leads from his navel down into the waistband of his shorts, where a bulge is clearly forming.
“Maybe it’s a nice contrast for you, Uche I mean, I’ve noticed Chinwe has got those lovely pert, pointy little boobs, hardly needs to wear a bra. In fact sometimes she doesn’t, I’ve noticed that too. And they’re ever so nice, but maybe it’s nice for you to see some big ones like mine, too. What do you think?” It sounds such an innocent question, as if she’s asking his opinion on a plant in the garden. Uche's head is spinning not only from his proximity to Nneka Ekwealor's naked breasts but also from the notion that Nneka has been checking out Chinwe's tits in the village shop. What the fuck can he say?
“Oh … er … yes … well, thank you … yes … very nice … I’d, er better do that herb bed …” He returns to his equipment, slowed slightly by the erection that he hopes to God she has not noticed.
Should he just make an excuse, pack up and go? Risk losing money, the word-of-mouth recommendations, the start of his business, his ability to keep his promises to Chinwe and Dad? The holiday in Ogbudu cattle ranch? She’s just bored and winding you up, he tells himself. It’s all harmless. He begins to apply himself, with great concentration, to the task of recutting the edge of the herb bed. That’s better.
Fucking hell, he’s left the water bottle up there again. How long can he carry on in this heat without a drink? A long time, actually, almost but not quite long enough to finish what he had set out to do. Until a stray blade of grass from the cuttings pile he created earlier, that he is going to put in the compost bin at the end, is picked up by the gentle summer breeze and floats into his mouth, catching at the back of his throat. He coughs and splutters violently. Resistance is useless. He has to have some water.
Oh Jesus Christ. She’s face down again now but she’s … is she? … yes she is. Naked. At some point she has removed her bikini briefs. The skin on her bottom is only very slightly paler than the rest of her, suggesting that it gets a fair bit of exposure. She is lying on her front with her legs together. Uche is very careful to walk round the side of her to remove any risk of looking at her directly from behind. He prays that she is asleep. He stoops for the water bottle. Again the drowsy voice: “Uche, my dear, I’m sorry to be a pain, but would you be ever so kind and put a bit more lotion on me?”
His heart pounds. “Nneka… are you sure?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind, that is. On my bottom where the bikini was, and a bit on the backs of my thighs, if that’s OK?”
Is that OK? Really, is it OK? Massaging sun lotion into Nneka Ekwealor's naked buttocks and thighs? Is that OK by you, Chinwe Of course it fucking isn’t. But there’s a limit to how much the presence in a young man’s life of a beautiful, charismatic and sexually enthusiastic girlfriend can do, to hold him back from following his deeper instincts when opportunities present themselves. And he is very very close to that limit now. He washes his hands in the kitchen again, returns to the patio. He tries to position himself so he is looking down Chinwe's body towards her feet, not up towards the cleft between her legs. He kneels next to the lounger, sprays the lotion onto her bum cheeks and begins to rub it in. Deep breath.
“Ooh, that’s lovely, Uche.” Damn his skill, damn his dexterity. She is loving this. Still in that drowsy, dreamy voice: “Uche was Chinwe your, you know, your first real girlfriend?”
“Er … yes, yes she was”
“And you were her first boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“That’s lovely. Ejike and I were like that, you know. We were married and I’d had Ifenna by the time I was about your age. And you know what, I have only strayed from Ejike once …” Why the fuck is she telling him this? “… and that was with a man who had only been with one woman, and she’d only been with him. I know they call me Mrs Milf but really if you were to draw a diagram of my sexual connections, it would be pretty small.”
He starts to see where this may be heading. And still he is massaging her buttocks. He starts to feel a tiny, rhythmic tensing of the muscles under his hands. Almost imperceptibly, she is very very softly grinding her pelvis against the towel underneath her.
“Does Chinwe like you massaging her, Uche?”
“Yes, yes she does.”
“What else does she like?”
“She … she likes me … she likes me to use my mouth.” The Rubicon has been crossed.
Very quietly: “Would you like to use your mouth on me, Uche?” He says nothing at all for a long while. Then, barely audibly: “Yes.”
Uche Ekobe. A Name You Can Trust.
Sorry, Chinwe.
Nmeka turns onto her back and slides down to the end of the sun lounger. Lying back, she flexes and spreads her legs so that her cunt is completely exposed. He kneels in front of her. For a moment he admires her full naked glory. He is pleased to see her dark brown pubes, trimmed just enough for the bikini. Perhaps unusually for a young man these days, he likes female pubic hair – he has encouraged Chinwe not to depilate herself fully. He bows his head between her legs and nuzzles at her hairy mound. He inhales deeply to immerse himself in the musky aroma of her arousal. He kisses her there, softly. Then works his way with gentle kisses down to her moist slit. Licks it with long upward strokes of his tongue. She whimpers. He sucks her outer labia into his wide open mouth and slips the tip of his tongue between them so that she is in him and he is in her. Holds that position for a while. Then pushes his tongue further in. She reaches down so she can hold herself open for him. He focuses on her clit for a while, with rapid little flicks of his tongue. She moans much more loudly now. The thought flashes though his mind that although the neighbours can’t see into Nneka's garden, if they are outdoors they can no doubt hear everything. Now he pushes the first two fingers of his right hand, slowly but firmly, into her vagina as far as they will go. She shouts out load. He explores and probes with his tongue, licking the rim of her cunt hole where his fingers are filling it, then up to her clit, then down to he hole again, all the while steadily finger-fucking her and curling his fingers slightly to locate her G spot. She is gasping and moaning loudly. Must be audible all down the street on this quiet afternoon. Suddenly her body tenses and she grabs his head, pulling his face hard down into her crotch. “Oh FUCK!” she yells, “Fuck, fuck, YES! Oh your FUCKING tongue!” He feels the spasms of her orgasm against his mouth and fingers. They seem to go on for ever. Then finally her body relaxes and she gives a faint little giggle. He slowly withdraws his fingers from her, and kneels back on his haunches. His erection chafes against the inside of his shorts.
“Oh Uche” she gasps, again with that little laugh.”Oh God you’re good. You’re a super cuntlicker, Uche Lucky Chinwe. Oh fuck I needed that.”
He is stunned, speechless. His lips and chin are glazed with her juices.
“Uche I’d like to return the favour.” Still getting her breath back.
He says nothing. That gentle, coaxing voice again: “Uche, my dear, I’d love to suck your cock. Would you like that, Uche? If you don’t mind.”
If he doesn’t mind. If it’s not going to inconvenience him in any way.
She sits up on the lounger. He stands close in front of her, lets her undo his shorts and pull them and his underpants down his legs. He steps out of them and is naked, and fully erect.
“Oh what a lovely young cock,” she whispers.
Chinwe is an enthusiastic cocksucker, of course, but her technique is rather full-on, deep and strong. Uche has never felt anything quite like the sensation that he experiences as Nneka takes his swollen knob into her pretty mouth. So slow, so soft, so careful that all he feels is an enveloping warm wetness, He cannot even discern tongue and lips. She is, of course, of a generation that did not learn sex from internet porn. It is almost enough to make him come straight away but somehow he holds back. She draws back, plants little delicate kisses all down his shaft, cups his tense balls in her small hand, licks them slowly. Then back up to his cock end, letting her mouth melt onto it as she holds his rigid shaft steady. She has taken off her sunglasses and is looking up at him with those big, smiling blue eyes. He strokes her thick brown hair gently. She sets up the gentlest possible back-and-forth rhythm with a slight rocking of her head. His breathing begins to get deeper. Not far off now. Then she pulls away.
“Uche, would you like to come inside me?”
He can barely speak. “But I haven’t got any … you know …”
“It’s OK, Uche. Remember what I said about the diagram? It’s safe. And I’m on the Pill. Nothing can happen. I like it from behind, Uche Would you like to fuck me from behind?”
He nods, wordlessly. Businesslike, she gets up, takes the towel from the sunlounger and spreads it on the patio. She gets down on it on her elbows and knees, raises her naked rear end towards him. Her cunt is still moist and swollen from the licking he gave it before.
“Please Uche, put it in me. I want it in me.” Her voice is soft and insistent. “I’d love you to come inside me while I’m still wet. I know you must be bursting for it. You can just use me, Uche. Use my cunt as a receptacle for you to come in. Fill me up … aaah … yessss … oh you’re fucking big …”
He has interrupted her monologue by pushing his cock all the way into her. He holds onto her hips. No long porno thrusts, more a steady, rolling, grinding movement, keeping his cock as far inside her as it will go. Sweat is streaming down his body onto hers. He has taken his sunglasses off and the sunlight is blinding. Perhaps his pupils are dilating. He squints as he looks down at her small neat body, bent over to receive him. He grabs at her big tits where they are swinging and bouncing under her. Grinding faster now. Then moving to proper thrusts, using more of the length of his shaft. The way Lucy likes it. Chinwe Oh my God, Chinwe. Nneka is moaning and whimpering. “Oh fuck yes, Uche, fuck my cunt, fill me up with your big young cock, fuck me, come in me, pump my cunt full of your spunk.” He holds her hips again and gives a few last really hard pushes, then lets out a great, neighbour-waking roar as his cum pours out of him and into her. So much it feels more like one long stream than a series of spurts. The base of his cock is actually hurting from the v******e of his ejaculation.
They hold still like that for a while, both gasping and sweating. She murmurs “Oh Uche. Oh Uche that was fucking beautiful.” He now thinks he heard some movement next door on the other side of the fence. Or did he? And what can he do, anyway? His erection begins to subside inside her body. He bows his head, gazing at her lovely arse as it glistens with sweat. Slowly his cock slides out of her.
“Oops!” she says. A dribble of his cum has run down her leg. She grabs the towel, stands up and starts dabbing and wiping at her cunt. “Gosh, Uche, that was a lot! It’s dripping everywhere!” she giggles.
In the pocket of his discarded shorts, his mobile phone rings. He is naked and still semi-erect as he fumbles for the phone. It is Chinwe, Insanely, he answers it.
“Hiya babe, you all right?” Her voice is cheerful and carefree.
“Er … hi … er … yeah … I’ve … I’ve just been doing …” He can barely speak.
“You OK? You sound knackered!”
“Yeah, I’ve just been doing Nneka… doing Nneka Ekwealor's garden. Round the back.”
“She been working you hard, babe?” Laughing. “Yeah … yeah … needed quite a lot of work … hadn’t had much attention recently … needed a proper going-over. It’s hot.”
A lascivious cackle. “Babe, have you any idea how filthy that all sounds if you don’t know the context?”
He laughs nervously. Nneka has finished cleaning herself up and is – no, she can’t be – oh fuck, she is – she is kneeling, still naked, and wiping his cock clean with a tissue while he talks to Chinwe. He looks down at her; she mouths “Say hello to Chinwe from me,” as she dabs at his sticky glans.
“Er … Nneka says hello.”
“Great, tell her hello from me and I’ll see her in the shop soon. Listen babe, I’ll let you get on but see you later, yeah? And well done on working today, yeah? I’m fucking proud of you, Uche. Just keep a bit of strength in reserve for tonight, right?” Another dirty laugh.
“Yeah, yeah of course. Better go. Love you.”
“Love you, Uche.” She hangs up.
Nneka, still naked, is now standing in front of him holding out a chilled bottle of beer in one hand and, in the other, a bundle of banknotes that looks like way more than the price they agreed. There are definitely voices on the opposite side of the fence now. And was the window of the house behind Nneka's already open before he got there? Fucking hell, what have they heard?
Uche, you can have one drink even though you’re driving, can’t you? You’ve certainly worked for it. And here’s your payment, with a little extra to help you get started. When would you like to come back and do the rest?”
“Erm … whenever works for you, really, Nneka.”
“Super. Thank you Uche. You’re a good boy.”
They face each other in the sunlit garden, naked.
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