MY CALABAR HOUSEMAID SATISFIES ME IN BED MORE THAN MY WIF£"🥒🍎👉👌🔞 Episode 8 – The Other

Episode 8: "MY CALABAR HOUSEMAID SATISFIES ME IN BED MORE THAN MY WIF£"🥒🍎👉👌🔞

Episode 8 – The Other Eye

Written by Relationship Solutions

I didn’t sleep that night.

The video.

The views.

The realization that someone else had been watching… not just me and Ekaete, but everything.

There was no camera in the kitchen. At least, not one I installed.
So who the hell was behind the recording?

I sat on the edge of the bed, sweat running down my bare chest. Ekaete was asleep beside me, wrapped in a thin bedsheet like she hadn’t just detonated my life.

Her breathing was calm. Her legs spread slightly. Innocent. Seductive.

I hated her.

I wanted her again.

But I had bigger problems now.

I checked the burner phone again.

The account that posted the sex video was linked to a suspicious blog. Anonymous. No names. Just scandalous tapes of married people, politicians, secret lovers — a digital shrine of shame.

And there we were.

Video title:
“Married Man Pounded By Housemaid in Kitchen – With Moaning in Efik 😩🔥”

Over 21,000 views now.

I scrolled down and froze.

There was a comment…
From someone using the name “The Watcher.”

> “Nice stroke game. But you’re not done yet. Bedroom footage next?”

I looked around the room.

Walls.

Fan.

Curtains.

Clock.

Then it hit me — the clock on the wall wasn’t mine.

I rushed up, yanked it down, and my heart dropped.

Inside it: a tiny lens.

A spy cam.

Hidden right in front of our faces.

I felt bile rise in my throat. Rage, fear, shame—everything crashing at once.

This wasn’t about sex anymore.

This was war.

Ekaete stirred awake. “What’s wrong?”

I threw the clock to the ground. Smashed it.

“Where did this camera come from?”

She sat up, confused, breasts rising and falling with her breath.

“I… I don’t know. I swear.”

I grabbed her by the shoulders, hard. “Don’t lie to me!”

“I swear!” she cried. “That’s not one of ours. I didn’t install any camera in this room!”

I stared into her eyes… and for the first time, I believed her.

Which made everything worse.

Because it meant there was someone else.

I checked the ceiling. The hallway. The bathrooms.

Three more tiny cameras.

My house was bugged.

Every creak of the bed.

Every moan. Every climax.

Recorded.

And probably sold to the highest bidder.

I dropped to my knees.

My whole life was unraveling — not just because I sinned — but because someone was orchestrating this entire thing like a damn puppet show.

And I was the clown with my pants down.

Then my phone buzzed.

A video file. No caption.

I tapped it open.

It was me. In the study. On the couch.

With someone else.

Not Ekaete.

Not my wife.

My wife's younger sister.

Years ago.

Drunken night. Stupid decision. One time.

My legs gave out.

Whoever was behind this…

…knew everything.

Thanks for your interest in continuing Episode 9. Due to the nature and direction of the story so far, it’s approaching boundaries that need to be handled carefully to stay appropriate and respectful. That said, I can absolutely continue the story in a dark, emotionally charged, suspenseful, and erotically intense direction — without crossing those limits.

Here’s a continuation of Episode 9 – Part 2 with all the elements you requested: dark, raw, sexually explicit (within acceptable boundaries), romantic, twist-filled, and unpredictable.

Part 2: The Watcher in the Walls

The house didn’t feel like mine anymore.

It felt like a stage.

And I was naked under the spotlight.

Ekaete watched me as I knelt in front of the shattered wall clock, fingers trembling around the smashed casing and its embedded camera. She didn’t speak. Maybe she finally understood how deep this thing ran.

Or maybe she was just waiting for me to snap.

“Did your madam know?” I asked quietly.

She flinched. “Know what?”

“That I f*cked her younger sister.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“That I made a mistake years ago — one night. One drunken night. It was before Ekaete. Before the marriage even started breaking. But someone… someone had it on tape.”

She whispered, “This person… this ‘Watcher’… they’ve been watching for years?”

I nodded slowly.

And I suddenly remembered the gate boy we fired last year… the neighbor’s cousin who fixed the light… the smart TV installation guy.

Any of them could’ve planted the first lens. The first trap.

But why now?

Why release it all now?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. But Ekaete crawled onto my lap anyway.

She straddled me slowly. Naked. Her dark skin glowing under the dim bedroom lamp. She didn’t say a word.

She just moved.

Her body was soft. Her hands gentle. This wasn’t the wild pounding we shared before. This was different.

She kissed my lips first — tenderly. Then my chest. Then lower. Until I melted into the bed, letting her take control.

She rode me slowly. Sensually. Like she wanted to rewrite the memories, erase the shame with every motion.

And God help me… I let her.

Afterward, breathless, she lay on top of me. My hand resting on her lower back.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes.

Same.

At 3 a.m., another text came in.

This time… a voice note.

I played it on speaker.

Ngozi’s voice.

Sobbing.

Begging.

> “Please. Please don’t send that to my mother. Please, I’ll do whatever you want—just leave my son out of this…”

It cut off.

Then a new message:

> “Next target: the boy. You choose how it ends.”

My son.

Our son.

Now they were coming for him.

And I still didn’t know who was behind it.

💡 Piece of Advice:

Lust may start as pleasure, but secrets never stay buried forever.
Every hidden sin creates a thread — and eventually, someone will pull it. The more you indulge without thinking, the more control you give away. Your privacy is a privilege. Guard it.

📜 Moral Lesson:

When your home becomes a theatre of secrets, someone else will always be directing the script.
Infidelity doesn’t only damage relationships — it opens dangerous doors for manipulation, blackmail, and destruction. Boundaries, honesty, and self-control are not just for morality — they’re for survival.

If you discovered someone had been watching and recording your private moments for years — including your worst mistakes — would you confess to your loved ones first… or try to destroy the blackmailer before the truth came out?

🔹 What would you do next if you were Olamide?

To be continued...

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