When love is fresh; sour agbalumo taste permeating every corner. When love gets cocky, and becomes something else, substandard and hurtful. When you leave me, or take me for granted. Omo, I go sell market.
Chika spread her legs wider apart and ran her hands leisurely over his back. "Mmmm....", her moan trailed off as he pushed slowly inside her, trying to bury his whole body inside of hers. Closing her eyes, she traced her fingertips lightly down his arms; shoulders to wrists, and thought about those other arms. The … Continue reading Warm Bodies