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The Storm on 18-02-2020 08:31:37

Alison’s eyes fluttered open in the late afternoon unsure of the day or her location at first. Her mind was blank to the preceding evening. George Ikechi was in her bed.

They were both naked, his arm around her, his hand cupping her breast. In a daze, she watched his black fingers play with her stiff nipple, as pink and firm between them as an eraser on the end of a pencil — twirling it around and keeping it erect.

“Mmmm,” she mumbled dreamily, taking no action to stop him, initially. After a few minutes, she realized this was no dream, but reality.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” Alison asked confusedly, trying to move his arm from her chest. “Get your hands off me and get out of my bed!”

George always enjoyed this special moment when the pheromone started wearing off and lucidity began returning, each woman reacting differently to her apparent promiscuous behavior the preceding night.

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