My brother, babes who wear glasses are the hottest

You know them, those who look as if they were born and bred in the library.

I grew up in Delta State and back then in Agbor, we had this belief that anyone who wore glasses was a genius or at least was on his or her way there. And we also saw them as Aje butters. I mean, poor men’s children didn’t were glasses.

Where did all that come from? Well, let’s just say that those who wore recommended glasses as we called them in those days were usually more studious, looked more studious and usually spent more time than most of us in the library.

The boys didn’t participate in sports and ditto for the girls. They didn’t play football either because they were always worried their glasses would break.

But as we got older something strange began to happen. The boys who wore glasses got the girls. It was as if girls felt that the boys were really aje butters and so hotter than the rest of us.

But it was different for us boys. We avoided girls who wore glasses. It was as if we thought them too fragile to shag and God help you if you broke those glasses in the heat of passion.

So, while glasses made boys more desirable, it somehow made girls less desirable and approachable. Personally, I gave them a wide berth.

Until I met Sheila. We had gone out of town for a two week course and even though we had been work mates for over three years we had never exchanged more than the casual “hello”.

On our second day, we were assigned a project and the lecturer had put me and Sheila and four others in the same group.

“Dan, oya make you and effico help us,” one of our team members said as we huddled together after class.

“Na who you dey call effico?’ Sheila snapped slapping him hard on the back with her note book.

“Okay, no vex. Na two of una sabi book pass, so help us. We will review on Friday then submit on Monday.”

That was how Sheila and I ended up spending about six days together huddled in the library or reviewing materials in my room.

The first thing I noticed was that she smelled great. Her body, her mouth, her hair. It was always as if she had just stepped out of the shower.

Then I realised she had beautiful knockers.

One afternoon, I think our third day in the library, I had caught sight of her knockers as she leaned across the table to hand me a book.

She caught me looking, held my gaze then said “waka.”

“What?” I asked spreading my palms.

“Liar. If you keep lying like that you will go blind,” she said

“Ahh, no joke with bad thing,” I said and that was one other thing I had come to like about her, the way she spoke pidgin without affectation.

Anyway, that afternoon seemed to have broken the ice and I began to flirt with her.

“You have been seeing me for three years, why now, because we left office abi?” she asked as we walked back to our lodgings.

“I wasn’t really seeing you,” I said trying to pull her to me but she had slapped my hand away.

“Why, eye dey pain you?”

By the fifth day, Sheila and I were holding hands and by the time the project was done and submitted we had had our first date and kiss.

She wasn’t a great kisser but there was fire beneath.

“You no sabi kiss,” I teased as I walked her back to her room. “but I fit teach you.”

“Teacher,” she said and bam, she had slapped me on the back. It was her thing.

And so we spent the evening kissing in her room and then when I said I had to leave she surprised me by standing with her back to door and stopping me.

“Bring your hand,’ she said.

I did and watched as she undid her belt buckle, pulled down her zipper and pushed my hand into her panties.

She was dripping.

“You want to leave a woman wet and unsatisfied?” she asked taking of her glasses.

And looking at her without her glasses, really looking and seeing her, I realised that Sheila was a beautiful women.

“Come,” she said and taking my hand led me to the bed. She made me sit and watch as she took off her clothes. Her t-shirt first, then her jeans and she was left with matching lacy bra and panties. The panties were white and I could see the patch of unshaven hair that led to the pleasure pot.

Her nipples were hard and dark against the lacy fabric of her bra.

“Your turn,’ she said stepping back and sitting by the edge of her table.

My hands were shaking as I undid my belt and let it drop. My boxers were doing a poor job of reining in my erection.

Then I took off my shirt and I had my vest over my face when I felt her lips on my nipples. She teased and sucked and licked then as I watched, she dropped to her knees, pulled down my boxers and took me in her mouth.

She couldn’t kiss but girl could blow. Her lips were made for fellatio.

She was so good I came right in her mouth.

That was when she took off her panties and bra and asked me to return the favour. I tasted her sweet smelling nectar and dived in like a man just leaving jail.

And when we finally made love, I realised what passion was. Sheila was hot and wet and willing to go as far as I wanted and we didn’t stop until I was bruised.

We made love as often as we could in the remaining days and every time I see her naked now, I wonder how someone so unapproachable could be so hot in bed.

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