Peckham Princess
"Dayo's aunt Yemi comes to stay from Lagos, and the thick Nigerian beauty shows him that age is just a number when it comes to teaching a young man about pleasure."
Dayo's mum had warned him. "Your Aunty Yemi is coming to stay while she sorts her visa. Make sure you behave yourself."
What she hadn't warned him about was how Aunty Yemi looked. When she walked through the arrivals gate at Heathrow, Dayo nearly dropped his phone.
Yemi was forty-two but looked thirty, with smooth dark skin, curves that defied physics, and a backside that made her ankara dress look like it was painted on. She was his mother's younger sister, and apparently, all the beauty genes had gone her way.
"Dayo! Look at you, so big now!" She pulled him into a hug, and he got a face full of her ample chest. "Last time I see you, you were small boy. Now look—you're a man!"
The ride back to Peckham was torture. Yemi sat in the passenger seat, her thick thighs barely contained by her dress, chatting away about Lagos while Dayo tried to focus on the road.
"Your mother say you have girlfriend, yeah?"
"No, Aunty. Not right now."
"Why not? Fine boy like you?" She reached over and squeezed his arm. "Strong too. Lagos girls would be fighting for you."
Dayo coughed. "Just focusing on work, Aunty."
"Work is good, but a man has needs, yeah?" She laughed, and the sound was warm like palm wine.
The first week was manageable. Yemi cooked incredible jollof rice, kept the flat spotless, and spent most evenings watching Nollywood movies on her iPad. But then came the Sunday morning that changed everything.
Dayo had stumbled to the bathroom half-asleep, forgetting that Aunty was staying in the room next door. He'd pushed open the bathroom door and found her stepping out of the shower.
Time stopped.
Water dripped down her dark skin, over those impossibly full breasts with their thick nipples, down her soft belly, over her wide hips and that magnificent backside. She made no move to cover herself.
"Ah-ah, Dayo," she said calmly. "You don't knock?"
"I—I'm sorry, Aunty, I—"
"Sorry for what? For seeing a woman's body?" She grabbed a towel but made no hurry to use it. "You're a man now. Don't be acting like small boy."
She wrapped the towel around herself, but it barely covered anything. She stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell her shea butter soap.
"I see how you look at me, Dayo," she said quietly. "Since airport. You think I don't notice?"
"Aunty, I didn't mean—"
"Shh." Her finger pressed against his lips. "Your mother doesn't need to know everything. And I've been in Lagos too long without a man. It makes a woman hungry."
Her hand dropped to his chest, then lower, finding the evidence of his arousal through his joggers. Her eyes widened appreciatively.
"Ah! Your father must be proud. This one is serious."
She led him to her room—his old room, now filled with her perfume and her presence. The towel dropped to the floor, and she stood before him in all her glory.
"Come," she commanded. "Let Aunty show you how Nigerian woman does it."
Dayo's hands shook as he touched her. Her skin was impossibly soft, her body warm and welcoming. She pulled him down to the bed, wrapping those thick legs around him.
"Don't be gentle," she whispered in his ear. "I'm not some small girl. Give me everything."
Yemi was insatiable. She rode him until the bed frame protested, then demanded he take her from behind, her massive backside bouncing against him as she cried out in Yoruba. Every time he thought they were done, her hand would find him, stroke him back to attention, and they would start again.
"Good boy," she panted. "Very good boy. Aunty chose well."
When they finally finished, the afternoon sun was streaming through the windows. Dayo lay spent, exhausted in the best way possible.
Yemi traced her fingers down his chest. "Our secret, yeah? What happens in Peckham, stays in Peckham."
"Yes, Aunty."
She smiled that beautiful smile. "Good. Now rest. We have two more weeks together, and I have many things to teach you still."
Those two weeks became three, then a month. Yemi's visa "complications" seemed never-ending, and Dayo certainly wasn't complaining. His mum called to apologize for the inconvenience.
"No problem at all, Mum," he said, watching Aunty Yemi walk from the bathroom in nothing but a silk robe. "Aunty is great company."
Yemi winked at him, letting the robe fall open just enough to show what was underneath.
"In fact," Dayo continued, "she can stay as long as she needs."
His peckham princess was teaching him things they definitely didn't cover in school. And he was an eager student.