A Taste of Nigeria

 I've always heard great stories about sex with Nigerian men. I was 36 when I finally experienced it for myself. Mide was his name. A slim, silent Yoruba man. He was 45. A bad dressing, hardworking Capricorn man sharing the same birthday as my aunt, January 12th. Mide was a breast man, and I am ample in the bosom department. We had a few encounters before my 2nd break up with my husband. But I was hammered and drunk on wine most of those times, so I don't remember much. However, this last time, I intentionally didn't have any alcohol in my system. I drank pineapple juice and water in attempt to make my juices sweet when he savored my juicy papaya. 

I was nervous. Nervous because my husband was the last man to penetrate my love. And my husband was an amazing lover. He knew my body better than he knew his own. One reason why it was hard to leave him... Mide is very affectionate and mature. As we lay in bed beside one another, he could feel my apprehension. In his deep sultry Yoruba drenched English accent, he asked, "Babe, what's wrong?" I told him I was nervous. He understood. He told me that we didn't have to do anything sexual until I was ready. Of course, his nurtuing and genuine care for my feelings made my middle moist. 

I told him I was nervous, but ready. He then took his boxer briefs off, and pulled his shirt off over his head. He climbed on top of me and kissed my lips gently. His dick was as hard as a rock already. Ready, ready from the last time I spent the night. I was on my cycle and wasn't in the mood for sexual shenanigans. His dick stabbed me in my back all night. It knocked, throbbed, and thudded against my ass. He asked if he could cum in between my titties. I was disgusted so I said no. He was hard for two days straight. 

Mide is firm and masculine but not overly aggressive. He takes control but isn't selfish. I felt him kissing lower and lower but I stopped him. I wasn't going to give him head that night, so I didn't let him go down on me. My husband is a hard act to follow. No need to waste time. He came back up and without hesitation, shoved his big hard long love into my cave of seduction. "Shit!" I said as I gasped for air. He filled me up and didn't leave an inch to spare. I took in his love and thrust my pelvis up to meet his deep athletic strokes.

How can this 45 year old man fuck me like he's 20? I was confused, a little angry, but turned on heavily nonetheless. Stroke after stroke, I feel him anxious to hit my G spot. Each attempt gets closer and closer. But then he starts to pant heavier and heavier. Thankfully, he comes. Covered in sweat, smiling with satisfaction. 

I think we made love two more times before the sunrise. Then in the morning, as I was brushing my teeth, guess who comes in from behind me and starts kissing my neck... He whispered in my ear, "You are irresistible." He caressed my breasts and pressed his ever hard dick against my nice, soft, round ass. He dropped his shorts, lifted my nightie, and inserted himself so deeply into me that I felt his heels lift off the floor. He fucked me in the bathroom and we both snuck glimpses in the mirror. I rested my elbows on the sink as he pounded my from behind. After innumerable pumps he turned me around and lifted me up so that my. ass was half on half off the sink. In and out and a steady and rhythmic pace only a proathlete could keep. My thighs flicked the bathroom light switch off and on. And I'm sure his roommates could hear the items being knocked around on the sink. I'm certain they could feel Mide fucking the life out of me and damn near reloating the bathroom sink.

He then carried me to the bed, and pushed my thighs into my chin. I couldn't help but howl loudly as I allowed Mide to control my body from the core. He is a machine. I could smell the sweet scent of jolloff rice and stewed chicken seeping from his pores. His perspiration mixing with mine created a melting pot of hot romance from the motherland to the other land. I was relieved when I heard the his breath get heavy. He started to pant and I knew the vagina slayer was on the cusp of giving in. He came again, this time almost shooting out my left eye. We shared a laugh and he cleaned me off so gently.

I'm not sure if this is how Nigerian men are bred to operate in the bedroom. But based on the stories I've heard, the legend is true. My pussy pulsed for several days after I left his room.

I'm going back for more tonight.