TUG OF WAR

Author’s Note: This is based on a true life story. Whose story, you may ask? Wel,l I don’t know. It is probably the story of that Father, Brother, Friend, Husband, Uncle, Mentor, Boss who is right next to you. They may seem well put together and composed, but inside they are fragile, because there’s a war going on.

*

Slumping into my bed after a really long day at work, I was looking forward to just relaxing after a shower and dinner. My laptop bag acted as a pillow while I shut my eyes for a bit, just to savour the peace and quiet of my room.

My phone just then began ringing, waking me up from my near-slumber. I checked the caller ID and it was Mrs. Ate, my CEO’s personal assistant. She was calling me from the office phone. This couldn’t be good, I thought as I answered.

“Good evening, ma. You still dey office so? I think say you for don dey prepare to close by now?”

“Hmm, my dear,” Mrs. Ate replied, “I still dey o. Oga asked me to call you sef. He wants to speak with you. Hold on while I patch him through.”

A few seconds later, and then the voice of my CEO, Dr. Charles Ebi, sailed through the receiver. “Felix, good evening… How are you?”

Let Me Be Your Bitch

FOREWORD: As you can already tell from the title, this is an erotic work of fiction. I’m putting this out here for those who will commence reading, expecting some braingasm. There is none to be had here. It’s about delicious, filthy gay sex. And it’s PG 25, and PG ‘All Those Already Behind Their Desks At Work.’ 🙂 Read at your own risk and titillation.

*

It was on a Friday that I went to my favorite restaurant for lunch. This hot, young, new waiter that looked like he was not a day older than twenty greeted me at the door, and escorted me to my table. He was Caucasian, with ginger hair, hazel eyes, and a slim, well-proportioned, sinewy body. He stood at about 5-feet and 10-inches, and it looked like he weighed around 160 pounds. He looked like someone had poured him into those fashionable blue Levis and black shirt. His pants fit snugly and wrapped perfectly around the cute bubble ass I could see departing from me after he took my order.

Although the restaurant was packed with customers, he went out of his way to assist me. He seemed taken with me, and I could see that my physicalness that impressed him just as he had me. I have the dark skin of my African origin, am 40 years of age with a swimmers body. I stand at 6-feet, weigh a muscled 170 pounds, and look no older than my late twenties.

He kept returning to my table, asking me if I needed anything else. After the fifth trip, it was obvious that his behavior was out of the ordinary. He was smooth, oh-so-very smooth in his shenanigans. He stared into my eyes, extended his hand, rubbed his crotch up against my arm and said, “Hi, my name is Phil. And you are?”