Akabusi sat back at his desk in his £127,000 mansion outside Luton as he sent off another lottery scam email to an unsuspecting victim. He had been keeping a low profile since the Tanni Gray Thompson Testimonial - there had been problems with access and Tanni had been left in the car park.
He'd spent most of his day walking around his study naked, the newly installed central heating allowing him free and easy nudity. After watching Working Lunch Akabusi positioned a full length mirror so he could have a wan as he flexed his biceps which were so black and shiny you wouldn't be embarrassed to upholster a Porsche 911 with.
He had to drive to Letchworth later to open a new JJB Sports with Roger Black so he turned off the computer and popped his dungerees on and headed to the kitchen to toast a blueberry Poptart.
Before he got to the bottom of his walnut finish stairs there was a loud knock at the door.
As he opened the door Akabusi knew he was going to fuck something this rainy afternoon. There before him we two young women both in smart pencil line skirts and green blousons that he knew concealed at least four epic bristols.
"We're Scientologists!" chimed the duo with accents sweeter than Midnight Hot on FTV when the missus is out. "Would you like to take a stress test?"
Before he knew it Akabusi was serving blueberry Poptarts to the girls in his second living room. Akabusi could feel a spasm in his veiny colossus every time the girls said Dianetics and before long he "accidently" let his denim dungerees drop to the shagpile revealing his toned form that was as black and scary as a balcalva in Derry.
The girls didn't flinch and attached the cold metal of the E - Meter to his now throbbing ebony hose. "Do you like Tanni Gray Thompson?" was the first of many questions asked by the two blondes. Throughout the dials made no movement.
"Would you like to fuck us both on your pleatherette settee?" asked one of the girls. Immediately the E-Meter exploded and Akabusi's cock became so hard he knew he could drill to Calais if they needed him.
He pulled the girls blousons apart with his newly cleaned teeth as they slipped out of their tight skirts exposing four pert and peachy tits and two clunges with so little hair he thought he was looking at Right Said Fred as kids.
He barged into the two of them like a stock car and before long he was plunging his Super Tennants can of a cock into one girl's arsehole as he used his famous tongue on another's clunge that was wetter than a 21st on the Marchioness.
Within hours it was all over, the Scientologists strewn across the plastic sheeting Akabusi had put down moments before copulating. In his head he was humming Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings as he had never seen such twisted naked flesh, cum and blood since Hazel Irvine cam over. His battered cock weeped the last remnants of his powerful seed as he wound it up and slipped into his dungerees.
"Would you like to meet Tom Cruise, Mr Abukusbi?" said one of the girls as she coughed up a short and curly hairball.
"fuck off, I know Fatima Whitbread!" roared Akabusi with a laugh that filled the spacious two bedroom semi like Fern Britton in a thong. He bent down, whisphered "Awooga" in her ear, patted the other on the fanny.
And walked out of the house, slamming the door. Then remembering it was his house. And he was wearing his indoor dungerees. He had no car keys. And he was late for the JJB Sports opening in Letchworth.