Erotic Story/Edymaniac: Horny Ibrahim and the sex starved guardian (Part 4)

“Remember your promise. If you say you will do something for someone you had better come through. I’m counting on you.” Aisha said. “Don’t you mean Mrs. Badmus is counting on me?” Ibrahim asked. Horny Ibrahim and the sex starved guardian [Part 3]

Ibrahim ogled his aunty’s breasts openly. He could almost make out the nipple on her left breast as it was held tight by the black lace bra. He caught himself when he realized she had stopped talking and looked into her eyes. Unashamedly he let her read his hungry gaze.

“Remember your promise. If you say you will do something for someone you had better come through. I’m counting on you.” Aisha said.

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Badmus is counting on me?” Ibrahim asked.

“Yes, yes of course,” Aisha said, suddenly hot and bothered.

Ibrahim’s uncle came into the kitchen and stood in the doorway a moment. Aisha pushed away from her nephew guiltily and busied herself with fixing her dress, turning to hide her face from her husband.

“You ready?” Ibrahim’s uncle Hassan asked.

“Yes dear,” Aisha replied meekly heading towards the door.

“Goodnight Ibrahim,” she called out over her shoulder.

“See you people later,” Ibrahim replied. Aisha sat silently in the car as her husband steered it up the street. The dinner party had been pleasant, mostly Hassan’s colleagues and their spouses in attendance. She tried to partake in the conversations but her mind kept wandering and more than once her husband had given her a sidelong glance that made her worry he suspected something.

As they pulled into the drive, she watched as her nephew and Ebube step out of the house. Ibrahim waved to his parents as he followed his girlfriend to the gate where he kissed her good night and then she left in a taxi. Aisha waited for her nephew on the front step as her husband complained of a headache and headed off to bed.

“I see you have got Mrs. Badmus’s dustbin cleared up,” Aisha said, shielding her eyes from the street lamp as she peered across the street. Ibrahim stopped in front of her, his eyes level with hers now that she was elevated three inches.

“Yeah, Ebube stopped by and made it her job to see that I did it right,” he said chuckling.

“I like that girl,” Aisha admitted. “Knows what she wants and how to get it. Some women have a hard time asking for the things they need.”

Ibrahim considered her words in the silence that followed. They stood on the front step for a long while it seemed until Aisha leaned into him, placing a hand upon his chest and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Good night dear,” she said resignedly.

Aisha strolled up the stairs and entered her room. Hassan was fast asleep as the television flickered light around the room. She looked about and wondered again how her marriage had ended up where it was. Undoing her dress she pulled it off her body and laid it out on the bed. Kicking her shoes off in the closet she reached for a hangar to put the dress on when the tip of a nail from a homemade shelf sliced the back side of her arm.

Jerking her arm back Aisha cried out in pain. When she looked at the wound a red line was forming where the nail had cut a shallow opening less than an inch long. As she gripped her arm tightly just above the cut she winced in pain and stepped out of the closet. Her eyes darted to the bed and she rolled her eyes in disgust as her unaware husband snored loudly.

“Story of my life,” she muttered heading towards the kitchen and the first aid kit.

Ibrahim’s door was shut when she passed by and the rest of the house was dark as she crossed through the entrance into the sitting room. The moonlight was bright enough that she didn’t bother turning on any lights in the kitchen as she reached for the medical kit in the cupboard. Within a minute she had applied the antibacterial cream and a larger than necessary bandage that wrapped around her upper wrist.

Replacing the box she shut the cupboard and heard an unexpected voice.

“Oh god, yes aunty, suck it, please. I need you to suck my dick,” Her nephew was saying. Her eyes cast about as her heart began to pound loudly in her chest. She whipped around expecting to see Ibrahim behind her. When he wasn’t anywhere immediately visible she calmed a little and then crept to peek into the living room.

“Suck it aunty, you know if you do I’ll eat your pussy. You know how much I want to eat your pussy? Do you?” Ibrahim said as his hand stroked his naked dick, trouser and underwear in a heap around his ankles.

Aisha felt her mouth go dry and her pussy drenched the lacy panties she was wearing. Reflexively she moved to pull her robe tighter around her body, still ashamed to show her nephew her body despite her barely hidden desires. Her fingers found bare flesh and with horror she looked down at herself and saw that she only wore the black bra and panties.

In her haste to get to the kitchen she hadn’t put anything on.

“I want to eat your pussy aunty; you won’t have to ask me at all. Just give me the chance and I’ll eat it until you beg me to stop,” Ibrahim growled.

Paralysing fear rooted Aisha to the floor. She wanted to cry out but even her voice was lost to her. Her eyes locked on her nephew’s dick, his hand sliding up and down the length, and her tongue began to dart about her parched mouth in imitation of pleasing it.

Ibrahim dared to open his eyes for a moment, praying that his aunty would be watching him again. In the shadows he thought he could see her but it was difficult to tell. The first time he had seen her hiding her robe was the most visible part and now he thought he could make out a leg or something but he wasn’t sure. Closing his eyes once again he decided to make one more try.

“Bring me your pussy,” he said clearly.

“Bring me your pussy so I can eat it. I want to lick your pussy. Come here aunty.”