Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E26

Story 1 year ago

Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E26

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 26

Femi’s POV

After the second round, I was so weak and exhausted. We both lay tiredly on the bed without clothes. Biola came closer and cuddled me, and that was the last thing I remembered before I dozed off in her arms, our bodies clasped on each other.

Around 4 am, I woke up to ease myself, and that was when I wore my shorts and went back to sleep while Biola was still asleep without clothes.

Biola’s POV

The following day was Sunday. I woke up before Femi. Sluggishly, I wore my long gown after using the toilet. I felt so weak from the vigorous exercise with Femi the previous night. I stared in his direction, and he was still asleep. I looked up at the wall clock, it was 7:08 am.

I was supposed to be preparing for church, but ever since I returned to campus with my big tummy, I haven’t been to the church for once and today shouldn’t be different too. I didn’t want people to give me that judging look in the church. Honestly, I didn’t want to be judged. The ones I get daily from going to classes are already enough.

Unlike Femi’s family, ours is Catholic. My parents and siblings attended Catholic Church. And we Catholics are good at guilt. That’s why we have confession and mass. So I stayed away from the confessional booth ever since I got pregnant. Imagine me saying, “Father, forgive me. I have sinned. I did this, I did that.”

I’m sure you will understand better if you are a Catholic. I didn’t want to go near church until I put to bed. That was the decision I made for myself.

I picked up my phone and started scrolling through my WhatsApp list. I was literally doing nothing on the App. I viewed a few statuses and read some messages from the various group chat. What are we eating this morning? I had pondered.

Then I dropped my phone on the bed and headed to the kitchen. Inside the cupboard were some of the yams Aunty Bose gave to me. I sliced them into sizeable portions inside a pot. Yam porridge was what I had in mind to prepare. I had already warmed the efo soup and kept it for the night.

When I turned, I saw Femi standing at the kitchen door. He nearly scared me with the way he stood like a ghost. He let out a half smile and I smiled back. I was going to say, “Ekearo” (good morning) but he said it before me. He reminded me of being older than him. And in our culture, it was expected of him to greet me, simply because I’m older than him. Well, that’s by the way.

Femi’s POV

Despite the bulge in her tummy, Biola had never looked this beautiful before. She had that glow that pregnant women sometimes get after the morning sickness has ceased before they get too big to move around with ease.

Another improvement I noticed was that of her breast. It had grown into large C– cups. Biola soon noticed I was staring at the changes in her appearance and blushed with embarrassment and then she said, “Stop staring, I know I’m fat!” We both laughed. I assured her she would become fatter by the day and her hips were extremely bigger than the old Biola I met in Ibadan.

Still standing at the kitchen door, I asked if any chores needed my assistance. She said that if it weren’t too much to bother, she would appreciate it if I could help her dispose the rubbish in the dustbin which was a little bit heavy. I quickly complied and asked where I would dump them. She gave me direction on how to go about it. I wore my top and left. When I returned, Biola asked if I was hungry. “Why not. I’m hungry,” I said and sat down on the bed while she continued with the dishes in the kitchen. And not long, the aroma from the kitchen filled the room. I yawned heavily.

***

She walked out of the kitchen, and we chatted for quite a while. I was finally getting to know Biola more and more as we conversed, and it turned out she was such an amazing soul. I found myself consciously staring her in the face as my gaze continued to drop to her C-cup boobs. Biola asked if I was going to church on campus, and I replied speedily in the positive.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been going to church?” I turned in her direction.

“Do you expect me to go with this heavy-duty?”

“Why not. Pregnant women go to church. Don’t they?”

Silence.

“You need to start going. You need to be prayerful too.”

“Hmm. Pastor Femi.” She giggled.

“Jokes apart, you need it. The days are evil.”

“Femi, I barely attend lectures during the weeks.”

“It’s well. Very soon….”

“Femi how soon? How soon? It hasn’t been easy. I never planned for this. You know my initial plan was to get rid of this pregnancy.”

“Yes, I know, but I’m glad we didn’t do that. It was all God’s plan. Don’t get discouraged.”

“Sometimes I do think of the journey ahead. I still have some months to carry on with this,” she said like she was sobbing. I suddenly felt my heart beating faster. She was making me feel emotional with her words.

Not knowing what else to do, I walked over to her and put my arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her. She responded by hugging me tightly and sobbing onto my chest. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood there holding her in my arms, softly telling her that everything would be fine.

After what seemed like an eternity, Biola finally stopped crying and apologized for being so emotional and fragile. Little things could make her cry. She said her hormones were running wild, and she would go on crying jags whenever she feel down. The bed and the pillow had always been her companion. Biola also said the worst of it all was when she feels horny and there would be no one to satisfy her cravings.

I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable talking about these things. She continued by saying that if I eventually go back to Ibadan, she would surely miss me.

She then reached for the plastic chair at the corner of the room and sat. I moved back to the bed and sat down. I looked up and noticed Biola had undone the top couple of buttons of her gown and she started to fan her cleavages. She said she was feeling hot. I couldn’t help but stare and was feeling guilty because the sight of those large breasts halfway exposed was arousing me.

“Femi, you ought to be in the church,” I heard that calm voice again. My heart sank immediately. I was lost in my guilty thoughts when Biola asked “Do you like what you see?” She caught me off guard as I had been transfixed by her boobs. All I could stammer was, “See what,” which made almost no sense at all. She chuckled and said, “Femi, getting bigger boobs is one of the better side effects of pregnancy.”

Biola began talking about the different changes her body was going through due to the pregnancy and eventually the subject of her boobs came up again. She explained that not only did they get bigger, but they became so insensitive that it was uncomfortable to wear bras and clothes. She said she sometimes goes on without clothes since she was living alone. I just couldn’t keep my eyes off her boobs, no matter how hard I tried.

“Femi, please help me turn off the gas, I think the yam is ready,” she announced.

As I got up and walked to the kitchen, I tried to hide the bulge that was growing in my shorts. I turned off the 6kg gas cylinder. I turned from the kitchen to the room, only to find out Biola had taken down her gown from up. She was sitting on the blue plastic chair naked from the waist up. All that effort I had made in the kitchen was wasted as my body quickly made a tent at the front of my shorts.

Biola pretended not to notice as I forced myself to complete the journey back to the bed. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “they’re just so sensitive today it hurt to wear a bra, and it’s too warm for my blouse.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I said as I tried to look away as I picked up my phone but I constantly gazed at Biola while she fanned herself with a piece of cloth.

The bulge in my shorts had grown from being a tent stake to a full-blown flagpole. I continued to stare at Biola’s boobs.

Suddenly, she turned to me, thrust her chest forward, and said “please, massage my breasts for me, they’re so sensitive.”

“On a Sunday morning?”

“And so? Please, just help me. Now that you’re still here.”

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say.

“I know you want to,” she said, “I can feel your desire.”

She reached over and stroked my d!ck through my shorts. I set my down and began to fondle her breasts. I squeezed too tightly at first and Biola let out a gasp.

“Remember, they’re sensitive” she explained, as I lightened my touch and felt her swelled breasts, and watched her nipples harden under my ministrations. “Mmmm,” she moaned as I leaned my head forward and flicked the tip of her nipple with my tongue.

Her hands were working on my shorts, and before I knew it, she had released my cock and was stroking it with both hands. I leaned in closer and took one nipple into my mouth and then the other, oh so gently sucking on them and licking them with my tongue.

“Stand up,” she said.

“Why?” I replied.

“You’ll see,” she said with a wink. So I stood up.

She pulled my shorts down around my knees and grabbed my hips pulling me toward her. My massive member was just inches from her face as she sat on the chair. She cupped my balls with one hand and stroked my shaft with the other. She looked up at me for a moment, smiled, then leaned forward and took me into her mouth with one motion.

She was fantastic! She had just the right amount of saliva to make my d!ck glisten and she slurped on and stroked my rod. She squeezed my balls gently as I cupped her breasts with my hands. She was bobbing her head up and down as I moved my hands from her breasts to the sides of her head, guiding her up and down my shaft.

With her hand on my balls, she could feel them tightening, and at that moment she pulled her mouth from my d!ck. “Not just yet,” she said, “I don’t want you to cum too soon. I need some fulfillment of my own.” “Help me up,” she said as she stretched her hands out to me.

I grabbed onto her hands and helped hoist her from the chair. It was awkward, as she seemed heavier than she looked, and my shorts were still around my ankles preventing me from getting the best leverage. Once she was standing, I pulled up my shorts and followed her to the bed.

“Can you help me out of this gown?” she asked.

“With pleasure” was my response.

I walked over to her and gently pulled down her gown, kissing down from her hip to her thigh, to the back of her knee, and her calf as I pulled the gown free. We stood together, completely nude, her pregnant stomach pressing against me as I kissed her on the mouth, our tongues locked in contact.