Master of Lust

Chapter - 227

After dinner, Jemimah excused herself from the table and headed to the kitchen, her silhouette moving gracefully as she worked. The sound of running water and clinking plates filled the otherwise quiet house, a comforting rhythm that echoed through the walls.

Rick's father, feeling the need to clear his head after the tense mealtime conversation, stepped outside to get some fresh air. The night welcomed him with its cool embrace, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets providing a soothing soundtrack to the evening.

Rick, his mind still swirling with unanswered questions and lingering doubts, made his way to the small room just below the staircase, a makeshift guest room for the night.

Jemimah had insisted on vacating his room, which she had been occupying, for him. But Rick didn't really care. He was here only for a day, and he could easily adjust to the small, cramped space of the makeshift guest room.

The room itself was modest but clean, with a bed squeezed into the corner and a small dresser by the door. Rick let out a tired sigh as he entered, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders.

He dusted off the bedsheet, making the bed as comfortable as possible. The room felt sparse, almost bare, with just a single bed and a small nightstand. The sloped ceiling overhead added to the cramped feeling, but Rick shrugged it off. It was just for one night, after all.

The action of setting up his room for the night felt almost meditative, offering Rick a moment of solace to process the strange events of the day. With each movement, he found a sense of calm amidst the chaos swirling in his mind. Stay updated via novelbuddy

Just as he finished arranging his belongings, Jemimah appeared in the doorway, her presence bringing a gentle interruption to his thoughts. "Would you like to take a bath?" she asked, her voice soft and considerate, a hint of concern in her eyes.

Rick shook his head, feeling the exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. "Nah, it's alright. I'm just beat. I think I'll pass and crash straight into bed," he replied, his voice tinged with weariness.

Jemimah nodded understandingly, her expression filled with empathy. She didn't press the matter further, simply offering her support. "Alright. If you need anything, just let me know," she said before turning to leave.

Rick couldn't help but watch her as she walked away, his gaze lingering on the subtle sway of her hips with each step. Her jeans hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating every movement she made.

The sight stirred something within Rick, a primal desire that pulsed through his veins. He felt a familiar heat rising in his cheeks as he fought to maintain composure. Her walk was hypnotic, each step deliberate and smooth, a rhythm that seemed to echo in his mind long after she disappeared down the hallway.

Closing the door to his room behind him, Rick leaned against it, exhaling a slow breath to steady himself. The image of Jemimah's swaying hips lingered in his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

With a heavy sigh, Rick flopped onto the bed, his mind still consumed by thoughts of Jemimah. The soft embrace of the mattress did little to distract him from the persistent tension in his jeans.

He shifted restlessly, his hand absently drifting down to the bulge in his jeans, seeking some relief from the pressure that pulsed beneath the fabric. The motion was slow and tentative, as if he were trying to maintain a semblance of control over his desires, his mind filled with the memory of Jemimah's swaying hips and the intoxicating allure she exuded.

Rick's thoughts drifted back to the unexpected moment earlier when he had glimpsed Jemimah in the room, the surprise etched on her face and the tantalizing glimpse of her body that had sent a jolt of desire coursing through him.

He replayed the softness of her voice, the curve of her lips, the way her presence seemed to fill the room with an undeniable magnetism. It all merged into a vivid daydream, fueling the fire of his arousal.

His hand moved more firmly now, the friction against his jeans both soothing and arousing as he sought to relieve the pent-up tension that coiled tightly within him. With each stroke, he felt the heat building, his breath coming in shallow gasps as pleasure tingled along his nerves.

The day had been long and filled with unexpected revelations, but in this moment, all Rick could focus on was the overwhelming desire that Jemimah stirred within him. His body hummed with anticipation, every touch igniting a blaze of sensation that threatened to consume him entirely.

As exhaustion began to creep in, Rick's breathing slowed, the tension gradually easing from his limbs as he surrendered to the comforting embrace of sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the day finally catching up to him as he drifted into a contented slumber.

~~~~~

Rick's sleep was abruptly shattered by the creaking sound of someone moving upstairs. Letting out a soft groan, he fumbled for his phone on the bedside table, his eyes squinting against the sudden intrusion of light as he checked the time.

It had barely been 15-20 minutes since he had finally drifted off to sleep, and his body still felt heavy with fatigue. But the curiosity and a hint of caution urged him to get up and investigate.

The house lay silent, except for the faint, ghostly footsteps echoing from above. Rick quietly opened the door to his room and peered into the hallway, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. The dim light from his phone cast eerie shadows, adding to the suspense of the moment.

He strained his eyes, trying to make out the person who was moving towards the upper floor. The question lingered in his mind—who could it be? His father? Or perhaps Jemimah? His thoughts raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

With a silent determination, Rick crept out of his room, moving stealthily on the balls of his feet. The house seemed to hold its breath, enveloped in an unsettling stillness that made every sound seem amplified. As he ascended the stairs, he made a mental note to avoid the spots he knew would creak, his breath held tight in his chest.

As he climbed the stairs, the soft creaking of the door opening reached his ears. His suspicion and curiosity peaked, and he moved closer, his senses on high alert. And then, cutting through the silence, he heard it—the melodic humming filling the air, a familiar tune that could only belong to Jemimah. It seemed she was still in the bath.

Soon Rick found himself at the top of the stairs, a mix of curiosity and suspicion swirling in his mind. He glanced to his left and noticed the door of the bathroom slightly ajar, a small detail that set off an alarm bell in his head.

A smirk played on his lips as a sudden realization struck him. He had a hunch, and he was at least ninety percent sure that he was onto something.

Moving with the stealth of a cat stalking its prey, Rick made his way silently down the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom, his heart pounding with anticipation. As he approached the slightly ajar door, he couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation that gripped him.

Peeking inside, his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. His hunch was right on the money.

The layout of the bathroom was such that upon entering, there was a narrow hallway-like space. To the right stood a large mirror and washbasin, while a bit further ahead was the washing machine and a basket for clothes. On the left, two more doors awaited, one leading to the bathroom itself and the other to the toilet.

Rick's father stood in front of the washbasin, holding a black panty in his hand. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were in a trance. With a deep breath, his hand slid down to his own pants, his actions becoming increasingly intimate.

Rick's mind reeled with disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not his own father. Not in their own home.

"And he says there's nothing going on between them," Rick muttered under his breath, his smirk faltering as he processed the disturbing scene unfolding before him. To see his own father in such a state, it was sickening.

"You old manther," Rick muttered, a mix of disgust and disbelief coloring his words as he struggled to come to terms with what he was witnessing.

[Ding!]

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