Miss Gullible I – a short story

“Sometimes I trust too easily, not because I am naive,  but because my heart wants to believe that no everyone is out to deceive” 

Please don’t judge me until you know my story. I wonder why “DoST” thinks that Miss Gullible aptly describes my story. He is quick to judge in my opinion. I do hope I find a more patient and less condescending reader. Are you one?

I will share my story in hope that you all don’t think I am gullible.

My Aunt, Jessica, thinks that I am incapable of making decisions myself. She barks instructions to me every single day since I arrived her home many years ago as a poor young unassuming girl.

I lost both my parents when I was 4, and I have since lost count of the number of times I have been moved or the names of the families that were gracious enough to allow me sleep in the corridors of their homes before they tossed me out. I never understood why they never allowed me stay up to a year.

Only Aunt Jessica was willing to allow me to go to school and so I stayed with her. I started primary school terribly late and was deservedly the class captain because I was the oldest at 9 years.

Just Imagine a primary one pupil who already had small mounds of flesh on her chest and looking like the older sisters to all her colleagues. I didn’t mind to be honest. I was just glad to be out of the house and to serve a purpose. My uniform was my best attire and I wore the whitest socks to school every morning.

Thankfully, the subjects were easy to catch on and I earned a double promotion, thereby skipping a class every other year till I graduated when I was 13. The school principal thought I was a stellar student and had assured me he would have a word with Aunt Jessica in hope that she would allow me advance to the secondary school just a stone throw away.

It was a public primary school and within 10minutes stroll from Aunt Jessica’s.

Oh…. Did I mention, that Aunt Jessica had three children of her own. And they of course attended the posh private schools within the neighborhood and were dropped off by the driver every morning and returned with her at the close of the day?

Her kids were spoilt brat. It was a lot of work keeping them in one place. And…if I may mention, they were not academically bright. I would literally have to do their homework after school. They didn’t care about their grades!

Aunt Jessica owned a boutique in the main plaza just around the estate gate. She sold the best handmade attires and imported a good chunk of her wares too. Her boutique was the melting point for a lot of politician and celebrities gossips and so she was pretty much always busy. She barely had time to see how her kids were faring academically.

I probably didn’t mention that Aunt Jessica is a strikingly beautiful woman. Oh my God! She had a beauty that made those billboard-princesses look as paper thin as they were. I promise you, I will never see a more beautiful woman for all of my days. If only I could look half as pretty as she was. I was dark skinned in contrast and can’t hold a candle to her even if I could draw my self in the prettiest book.

No need for wishful thinking.

Back to being me.

I stayed at home after school. I wasn’t required to cook. There was an elderly chef who fulfilled all their culinary needs of the family and by Jove, he cooks up a storm. Food wasn’t a problem in this household and so I filled up the right body spaces quickly too.

I spent my time alone tidying up my school assignment and doing whatever house chores Aunt Jessica instructed before I left the house in the morning.

I am told to clean the toilet, even when there is nothing dirty about it. I am told to sweep the entire house every morning before anyone is up. At 5am, I am barely awake, sauntering about like a headless chicken who has missed the way to the kitchen. It would sometimes take me 10mins to find the broom behind the kitchen door where I kept it the day before as I struggled in a fit to yawn and stretch at the same time.

Every morning I have to wash the two cars too. Aunt Vicky’s husband drives a Lexus SUV and that car must be cleaned until it glimmers. That is a tall task even at dawn. It was the most tedious part of my house chores.

I try to avoid running into Aunt’s husband. The way he looks at my perky breast even when I am fully clothed, makes me cringe. It always feels like I am butt naked when I walk past him in the living room. Thankfully, he never talked to me inappropriately or made any untoward advances. He would bark instruction in his rich masculine voice and that was it.

But strangely, I like the way he looks at my slightly protruding backside when I walk past him at the dining table. I could feel the rays of his eyes burning the hubs of my Butt. Sometimes I would catch him staring lustfully and his eyes would dart away in search of something else to look at. Men!

Please don’t blame me, I am in my teen and my hormones are raging hot. I have never had any sexual relationships with any man when I moved into Aunt’s house. But each day when I stepped out to buy loaves of bread from the local bakery a few meters away from the house, in the evenings, catcalls and lingering eyes tell me that I am already desirable for mature men. What a pleasure!

Sometimes I would go out without wearing a bra, letting my nipples strain on the weak fabric of my dress. The men behaved differently, as they would literally walk at a close distance while staring at my breast like monkeys on heat. I let my breast bounce to tease them sometimes and I sometime just increase my pace so they could enjoy the pleasure of my ripening bosom. Those moments made me feel good about myself.

I started touching myself when I was 15. I couldn’t help it. The heat in my loins became unbearable, seeking for an outlet of release. At first, I liked it and looked forward to the moment. But it left me exhausted and so spent, I often slept off afterwards to the chagrin of my Aunt. From deep sleep, my name would ring out until I am ack to reality.

“Sleeping in the afternoon. Lazy girl”

So, I reserved my secret pleasure till it was night time and I was ready to retire to bed. But after all the work chores, my hands could barely reach my panties before the first snore escaped my open mouth.

I wondered what it felt like to have sex or to be loved. I never could understand it when Aunt Victoria came over to the house with her boyfriend and they glowed like they just came from out of space. This was despite Aunt Victoria not looking anything like her elder sister. They even kissed even in the living area with their lips smacking and making sensuous noise. I felt something in my loins that afternoon and suddenly longed to be kissed like that. My breath failed me.

And so, I started looking out for my first kiss. None of the guys around the house appealed to me. The gateman was some old burly and unkept man whose breath was responsible for the mosquito genocide around the gatehouse.

I wanted someone mature, like Aunt Jessica’s husband. But men of his calibre didn’t roam the street in the burning afternoon sun. Most of the men that remotely looked attractive were university students who didn’t even spare me a second look.

And so, I started looking out for cloths to wear. Attires that would tease enough and yet not reveal enough. Short skirts, gowns and tight tank tops became my favorites. As though a light bulb was turned on, my sojourn to the bakery in the evenings took a different turn. The men started approaching. First it was the security officers at the plazas and then the gate men manning fancy houses. I shook my head in disappointment. There was barely any difference in the two set of men. One wore a worn-out and smelly uniform while the other looked like they forgot to press their shirts. To make matters worse, they couldn’t even speak good English.

When I started borrowing one of Aunt Jessica’s perfume, I attracted a different set of men. They looked mature and dressed even better.

That was when I met Uncle Soji.

He wore his beards with a tint of grey. He had a warm smile that allowed his perfectly white dentition to peek out lovingly. I immediately felt comfortable with him.

I was picking up the loaves of bread from the till when he offered a modest advice.

“You should try the wheat bread, its healthier” his voice had the rich baritone that made my body tingle.

I couldn’t even look him in the face. He must have noticed how shy I felt.

“Don’t worry, I will pay for one so you can try it” He spoke with a certain type of authority, I didn’t dare refuse. I nodded like the teenager that I was.

“Yes sir”

“You can call me Soji. Here is my card” he handed over his complimentary card. At this time, I didn’t even own a phone. Aunt Jessica didn’t think it was necessary. There was a table set in the living room and if there was any need to make a call, I was to make use of only that.

“I would like to know what you think about the wheat bread” Oh my God, he took interest in me. I still couldn’t fathom what was happening right there.

He walked me to the exit of the bakery before walking off into his car.

“How soon before one can call numbers on a complimentary card?” I wondered.

Oh well, I called him that night. There was no one to speak to about when to call. I hadn’t even tasted the wheat bread. It didn’t matter to me at the time. I had been fondling with my Aunt’s first daughters phone under the guise of playing one of the games on it. She let me in return for writing her assignments, which was getting tougher as she advanced in classes.

We spoke for a few minutes before the credit on the phone was exhausted. He called back. My heart raced as though I was in a short sprint at my former primary school. He made me laugh. He said the right things and made me truly happy.

The next time we met, 3 days after, he offered me a mobile phone set and asked that I keep the phone safe from my Aunt. It was a fairly decent phone with a large screen. He told me he stored some short videos in a secret folder for my viewing pleasure.

When I found the folder later that night, it was all porn. My first experience with porn.

At first it was disgusting. I found no pleasure in watching it especially with the way the ladies moaned and groaned. Some even screamed. I thought it was utterly disgusting, until uncle Soji explained some of the scenes to me during our late evening phone calls. Sometimes our calls would go on for hours until the phone battery went out and I would have to sleep terribly late.

In the mornings, it was becoming quite tedious waking up to do house chores. I was barely getting enough sleep. Uncle Soji would send me messages to wake me up in the mornings. Every morning since we met.

When he invited me over to his house, I told him I would really have to plan my get-away very well. I wasn’t allowed out of the house, and there was no excuse tenable enough to give for a few hours away from the house except I abscond.

I gave it a lot of thought, but the only window we managed to meet up was on the evenings when I bought the bread at the bakery and we would walk the long routes. That was when he showed me his apartment, a self-contained apartment, at the back of a really big mansion. He didn’t live far off from the house.

The first time I visited Uncle Soji, was when Aunt Jessica asked me to bring her phones to the boutique after she left them in her haste to meet up with a client that morning.

I hurriedly text Uncle Soji if he was home.

On my way back home, I stopped at his place. He answered the door cladded in wet towel around his waist.

He didn’t need to say much, we had talked about every single detail on our daily night calls and all that was left was just to experience the bliss he had promised.

That was the day I was made a woman!

Uncle Soji was such a darling. We had sex every week from then on. He promised to get me into university the moment I can pass the entrance examinations and gave me a weekly stipend after every roll between the sheets.

Let me tell you about our tryst.

Please follow the story into the second part- click here

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2 thoughts on “Miss Gullible I – a short story”

  1. Pingback: Miss Gullible II – a short story – Akin Akingbogun

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