My affair was not a planned thing. It really wasn’t. I’m not justifying myself, but it’s just something that you would have done too.
Where do I start?? From now or from the beginning??
I was happily married. I had two children one was nine and the other one was five. Me and my wife were still not sure if we would have a third child. We talked about it often. We were still young, and we had good jobs and things were looking good for us. Our children would be well spaced, so it wouldn’t be too much of a financial burden on us when they grew up. But we only just talked about it.
My marriage was good. I was forty-five and my wife was thirty-two and I had been married for ten years. My wife was beautiful, but she no longer put in an effort like she used to. To be fair, I didn’t either. We only went out of our way to impress our bosses now, and maybe our families when we were at large gatherings. Like Christmas and new year. Intimacy was reduced and reducing, compared to our first three years of marriage. My wife was bigger now. She had a bigger ass and fatter cheeks, but it didn’t move me because she always wore unflattering clothes. I had a beard now too. And a pot belly and wrinkles on my face and around the corners of my eyes. And I’ve heard her complain more than once that she didn’t like the way I shaved my head clean. She wanted me to do one of those fashionable styles that the younger men in her office did. She even took me to a barber shop once, but I still shaved my head the way I wanted.
It wasn’t wickedness, it was just a preference for certain habits and appearance when you were growing old. Or you were married, or both.
Financially, we were okay. We both earned good money. My wife earned more than me, but it didn’t matter. I was okay with it. I still dropped money in the house. I still gave her money for pepper and clothes for the kids and a little to save up for rent. I gave her eighty percent of my salary every month. The agreement was that she could spend it as she pleased with the entirety of our family’s expenses in mind. The only exception was me. I would take care of myself with the remaining twenty percent. It may seem like an absurd arrangement, but when you considered how much I was making, you would let out a whistle. And she was also making more than me, so she could easily have done these things even without my input.
This had been the arrangement ever since our second year of marriage when she started earning more than me. Then, she used to send her salary to my account, then ask me for money for things we needed, but I liked my freedom and peace of mind, so I made her sit down and we formulated this arrangement. Together. Compared to now, my salary wasn’t much then, but it was still very substantial.
And I felt very comfortable giving her my money because I knew my wife was a very smart woman. Very smart and very responsible.
I knew this when I decided to start dating her. I knew it when we were dating and courting. I knew it before I decided that she was the one I would get married to. And I definitely knew it when I was making arrangements to give her almost my entire income. But my respect for her doubled – no, tripled, when last year, she took me out for my birthday.
She took me to a new house. A small duplex, newly built and complete with everything a house would need. It was tiled and painted. The plumbing was done and the electric fittings had been installed even though there were no bulbs in the house yet. The flooring outside was even done. everything was perfect. it was a house that was ready for habitation, and it was perfect. At first, I thought she was showing me the house because she wanted us to buy it. I was already telling her that it was a sensible investment, and we could work towards it if we cut our unnecessary expenses and maybe worked extra hours. I could even start taking private deals, independent of my company.
After the whole tour, we went back outside and she asked me “Do you like it??” of course I liked it. it was a beautiful house in a good neighborhood. Also added to the fact that our rent in our current place was exorbitant and tiring. I loved the house.
And then she replied to me by bringing out the papers of the land and the house. It was actually ours. She had been building it slowly, very slowly, after we had made the arrangement for the salary division. Apparently, when she started earning more than me, her friends had asked her not to give me her salary. She should spend it on herself and build a life for herself and her children, while still collecting my money to cater for things around the house. She had gone against their advice and had given it to me anyways. And when I had given the money back, and even given her my own income, she had gone to her parents and explained everything to them. And they advised her that she should do this, and she had started the project without telling me about it. this one was even funnier because her parents didn’t even like me. Her dad hadn’t been present at her wedding in protest of her choice of husband. Me.
That day, I cried. I cried right there when she was telling me everything. I cried when I got back home at night. I cried when I was telling my brother about it. That was truly the happiest day of my life.
We moved into the new house five months later, because we had already paid our rent and we wanted to finish it anyways. Plus we didn’t want to disrupt the kids in the middle of the school year, but eventually, we moved.
It is worth mentioning that on the papers of the land, it was my name that my wife had filled out as owner. Just my name. Not Mr. & Mrs. No. She had put only my name on all the properties. I owned them.
The problem started after we moved.
It took us an entire week to move. We gave a lot of things out and bought several more things as we were moving, but eventually, we were done. we were off to a new life. After moving in, it took us another month to settle in, and integrate ourselves into the neighborhood. We joined the Landlord’s Association and visited our neighbors and met their families. The kids found someone to play with and I found trouble. Three houses away from mine was Tinu’s house. Right on the same street, on the same side of the road, and with exactly three houses between us, I had found Tinu again.
Long story short, Tinu was the love of my life. Tinu was the girl I would die for. Tinu was still the girl I would die for, even after having a wife and two children. Tinu was the person that had ever managed to evoke the most emotion out of me. And she was right there. Three houses away.
I had history with Tinu. The most intense memories I had ever made with anyone was with her, and I had been married for ten years. Before that, I had been dating my wife for four years. Still, Tinu was the one.
I can’t honestly remember how or why or when Tinu and me broke up, but we did. And two months after moving into the new house, I set eyes on her again.
I first saw her in the afternoon of that fateful Saturday, getting into her car parked across the road. She was wearing a very eye catching lace material and very heavy makeup. The woman that got into the car with her too was similarly dressed. I really didn’t recognize her at first. But I saw her, and I remember remarking to my wife that we had some very rich neighbors and she just laughed about it. That night, we went over to say hello and introduce ourselves as the new neighbors.
We met her husband at home, and we started talking. He was a nice chap. Younger than me. Not as handsome as me. Chubby. Igbo. And from all the signs I saw, he was richer than me.
We were already seated and having a conversation with the husband before my little spoonful of trouble walked out of the room and came to join us.
She was dressed in simple clothes, comfortable ones, very different from what she had worn out this afternoon. In fact, if I hadn’t known it was her, I would have argued that it was someone else.
She came out and immediately set out to hosting us. She made us very comfortable. Serving us generous plates of food and drinks and insisting we eat and even take something home for the kids. I don’t know if that was a show or not, but mt wife loved her instantly. That was the day we exchanged contacts. Me and my wife, her, and her husband. That was the day we gave out our phone numbers and established channels of communication.
Tinu didn’t bother me with calls, no. not with texts either. But every time she saw me, she winked. It was sharp and sultry at the same time, and I would be the only one to have seen it. Sometimes I would drive past and she would be sitting right there in her compound, reading a newspaper, drinking a smoothie. Wearing a tank top and shorts that put her soft dark brown skin on display. When we met in public places and we weren’t with families, she would touch me and drag her long nails over wherever she touched. In fact, I’m not entirely sure how our illicit relationship came to be the highlight of my week and I was always looking forward to seeing her, but it was. And the relationship was beautiful -is beautiful. We don’t go at it every day, but we were like jackrabbits on steroids when we went at it. Just once or twice every fortnight. Always at her place. She didn’t have kids yet, and her husband was not always around, so it was easy to have the house to herself.
And the sex was always intense. Better than what we used to do as children. And I’m not proud to admit it, it was better than what I had with my wife at home. And even with the shame and regret I always felt after the sex, it still felt like it was worth it, and I was doing the right thing. After time, the sex has only gotten better and that shame has reduced, or I have gotten used to it.
It has been almost a year and half now that I moved into the neighborhood, and almost nine months since Tinu and I have started this relationship. And no one had found out about it. no one has found out about us.
Nothing has happened to us. Not yet. I don’t think anything will. I don’t want anything to. Because I can’t imagine leaving Tinu. Not for my wife and kids. Not even with everything she has done for me. Tinu was the one.
I do not expect you to understand, because I do not fully understand it myself, but Tinu is the one. It has to be Tinu. It has to be her or no one else.
“Tinuola Adebunmi Fehintola, you are a woman, a complete woman. And a woman has so much power, so much more power than a man does. Know how to use this power and you would have a good life”
That is one of my mother’s favorite sayings to me.
The earliest memory I had of hearing that, I was a teenager. Maybe fifteen or sixteen, but I heard it clearly. She said it in Yoruba. She always said it in Yoruba. Over the years, I found that things like that were better said in Yoruba. They have better weight and sway when said in Yoruba.
My mother was never married. Or rather, my mother was always married. Depends on how you look at it. it’s a little hard to explain.
She was a smart woman, a big socialite of the late 80s and throughout the 90s and early 2000s. She had money and she had it well. She had power too, political power, and all the men around wanted some of it. Some of her. And this was where the power she talked about came in. Sex.
She used sex to ruin so many marriages, to ruin so many men, to grow her business, to ensure me and my older brother had a better life. And I can only imagine that with the number of men she went out with, she must have been very good at it. Very very good at it.
She only brought a few of them home with her though. Those were the really important ones. She would bring them home and take them upstairs and for a week, only the maid would be allowed to go upstairs. After which she would be gone for another month again. She was always in the newspapers with this person or that. She was always in magazines for her hairstyles and clothes styles and gele styles. Think of Vogue, but not Vogue. In this part of the world, we called them ‘Ovation’. If you don’t get it, it’s okay. Just think of Vogue.
My mother was at every party. Wedding, burial, birthday, and any celebration that was worth something. She was there. She was very popular too. From Lagos to Ibadan to Ondo and everywhere in between, she was well known. There was hardly and musician that didn’t know her by name.
My mother’s smarts were used in a way that so many of her friends didn’t know. All the money she had?? She invested it. Asides the money she spent on me and my brother, and her business where she sold beer and all kinds of imported alcohol, and the money she used on her upkeep, everything else went into investments. But not Nigerian ones. They were all American and British based investments. She didn’t care about if the profit margin was small or huge, she just wanted profit. And she did long term investments only. The kind of investments that would allow the government to give her a visa to come and check on her investments and business partners. The kind where she could decide to take all of us for summer today, and we would be there within the week. My mother could do that then. She had the money, and she had the influence.
She gave us everything we wanted, but there two conditions attached. Just two. Do very well in school. Exceptionally well. That was the first condition. The second condition was to never get in trouble with the police. It was a little harder for my brother than for me, but we made it work. We knew what she did, she made us know what she did, but she let us know that it was all for us. Everything she was doing was for us, and we had to make all her grinding worthwhile.
I learned so much from my mother.
She is the single individual I learned the most important life skills from, she is the single individual I draw the most inspiration from. Folashade Oluranti Ayinke.
She died of course. HIV/AIDS. She knew what she had done, she knew what was going to happen to her, and she took it like a soldier. Her last five months on the face of the earth were dedicated to us. Me and my brother. Taking us to see people, important people that would help us after she had gone. Bankers, lawyers, politicians, businessmen, drug dealers, babalawos, pastors, everybody. She was announcing to the world that “Awon omo Ayinke ti de”.
When she couldn’t move around anymore, she sat in bed and talked to us. She told us stories. She told us locations of events, she told us words that would give us access to certain people, to certain gatherings, she told us secrets, she told us several things.
For me in particular, she told me “A woman has so much power, so much more power than a man does. Know how to use this power and you would have a good life”.
She said it so many times that I started to think it was a secret password of a kind. I never forgot it.
She died in my arms, refusing to cry until the very end. Her last words were “Bami gbe bag mi ni isale” Anticlimactic, but significant. She was trying to get me out of the room so I wouldn’t see her pass, but her brother knew what was going on and he asked me to stay. I didn’t know why until after it had happened.
We took over the business, me and my brother. He took control of everything, even though we owned it together. From the imports to the locally sourced items. He took up her political image too, the worthy successor. Mobilizing thugs and weapons and money for politicians and just about anyone that needed them. There was never a year that we didn’t record profits. My job was to go out into the world. To go into the streets of Lagos and make sure that the political climate was always in our favour. That we were always safe from the occasional ambitious or idealistic politician, or the scorned one looking for who to drag down with him. It was an easy lifestyle. Fun, thrilling, exotic. It was dangerous too. I can’t count the number of times I have been in situations that I could have died from. That I probably should have died from. But I guess Ayinke has a strong spirit watching over me from the beyond.
I ‘retired’ at thirty-two. I stopped playing the field when it was getting obvious that it was a new generation of women that were being sought after. The ones with tight jeans and perky firm breasts and expensive attachments and wigs. I could have done that too, I could have changed my game to stay on top, but it was better to leave as I did. Plus the new wave of stakeholders and powerbrokers in Lagos didn’t know Ayinke anyways. The ones that did were on their last haunches. I got married to a dole old guy when I was thirty-five.
We had an agreement. I would use my contacts to promote his business and political ambitions, but by word of mouth only. Maybe a few business deals here and there, but absolutely no sleeping around, and he would finance my lifestyle with everything I wanted. All I had to do was ask. He didn’t want children from me, and I doubt his equipment was fully functional enough to get me pregnant, but that was fine with me. I had my daughter that I spent the summer with in London. Ayinke, named after my mother.
I could still go to parties though, I could still get home late or decide not to go home at all like I had no one to answer to, and that was perfectly fine by me. In all honesty, taking myself out of the pool of names that the Lagos men had on their beck and call to fulfill their depraved fantasies was a plus for me. The moment I started to decline calls and jobs for the sake of my marriage, my respect went up. My prices went up too, and my husband’s name became more popular. I wouldn’t have had it happen any other way.
So why did I break my marriage agreement for Teslim?? It was simple. It was all very simple.
I wanted Teslim. I wanted Teslim. And I wanted Teslim for myself.
All my escapades have always been geared towards a particular goal in mind, and not always my goal. I had been a tool for other people to get what they wanted. I had lived my whole life as a tool. I wanted to change that. With Teslim, I was the one choosing to use my body as a tool. And what was the goal?? My own pleasure. Intimacy was a little farfetched, and honestly it would leave both of us in complicated waters so I left it. I wanted intimacy too, but I left it. I would settle for well delivered orgasms from him. It also helped that Teslim had been a friend from the time before my ‘worldly’ ways, and he was well versed in women’s anatomy. He was a wonderful lover.
And he was nearby too. It was so convenient. So so convenient. He could come over and spend a few hours together. Rocking our bodies and the big king-sized mattress in my husband’s bedroom.
It always tickled me to know that my husband was sleeping on the bed that another man had devoured his wife on. It was even worse when he made love to me while Teslim’s sweat was still on my body. While his milk was still inside me. Maybe even his baby. Maybe.
I enjoyed sex with my husband better after I started having Teslim on the side, but it wasn’t because my husband was so exceptional in the bodily arts. It was a mental thing for me. It’s a little hard to explain but the idea of doing something so sinful with Teslim and still having another man – the rightful owner, if I may- climb on me and do the same thing without any knowledge of what I had done turned me on to no end. It was like serving someone leftovers and hearing them say it was the best meal they had ever had. I would be on top of my husband or underneath him and be thinking of how Teslim had done this to me just hours ago. Or how he had put me in this position just yesterday. Or how I had screamed and peed when Teslim made me climax.
I felt so dirty, so useless, so promiscuous, so cheap, and so horny at the same time. I loved the feeling.
I loved being used by Teslim and then having Mr. Husband come home to the leftovers.
I started to look forward to having Teslim over. If we had done it more than twice in a week, I would book a hotel for us somewhere and pay for it and wait for him to stroll in. I liked rubbing his bald head, and I liked the way is moustache and beard tickled me when we kissed. I liked the way he responded to certain things. Like spanking me and like letting me play with his balls and stick my fingers up his rectum. Things I saw that people did now that I wanted to do too. Teslim was my man for my pleasure, and he snored. He snored lightly and I loved that. Knowing he was still there even before I turned my eyes around filled me with a kind of feeling.
I don’t want to think of what will happen if we get caught, I really don’t want to, but I can’t imagine being threatened by my husband. I had helped him more than he had helped me. I had bragging rights over his career.
And I have my own money. All the money I made from fornicating around in Lagos, all the lands and houses I had on the island, and I still had my part of Ayinke’s company waiting for me. If it got too messy, I really can’t imagine being thrown out or begging to stay. I would probably leave and start a new life with or without Teslim, even though I’d prefer him to be in it.
Maybe he could even give me the second child that I want. Maybe…
She was never the type to preach against premarital sex. In fact, she liked the idea of premarital sex. Her mum came from a family of six children. One boy and five girls and all five girls (her aunties) had had sex multiple times with multiple people before they got married. And from the moment she was old enough to talk about sex, they’ve always rung it in her ears that sex was meant to be enjoyed by the male as much as the female (Aunty Yemisi would say “If you want to be gay too, sha just tell us”). They would tell her her body belonged to her first, and she should do whatever she wanted with it. They encouraged her to have sex if she wanted. To enjoy sex. Of course they also taught her about STDs and STIs and about condoms and the several forms of contraceptives that they knew about. They also taught her that sex was more than just sex. Sex was a tool. They taught her that sex was a means of power play. Sex was an apology. Sex was agreement. Sex was spiritual, and sex was wild. They taught her everything.
Her knowledge on sex and related acts and paraphernalia was wide. Wide.
But even with all that knowledge, it still took her years before she had her first taste for sex. She waited patiently till she was in part 4 before she knew she was ready.
It had been hard of course. She started dating officially in her second year and she had dated four men (boys really) in two and a half years and she had funny experiences with each of them. From the one that had just watched Fifty Shades and had wanted her to be his object of physical pain, to the one that was always pulling her hand to his penis like she was supposed to be super excited about it or something. Then there was the one that they had dated for three weeks before she had found incest porn in his phone. There was even one that had almost bitten her nipple off in the name of making out. Things that she laughed about when she remembered them because who taught them about sex??
The first three of them had come and gone within a year, and she had taken a few months break before she dated again, and she was glad she did. She was glad she was available when Kevin asked her out. She had met him talking to one of her friends and he had given her a funny proposal.
“Hi, I’m Kevin. I don’t know if you remember, but Sade introduced us the other day at the computer room…remember??
I thought you looked nice and I wanted to ask you out, but you left early, before we had a chance to talk…
So here is the deal…we go on three dates in one month. Two on me, one on you. We don’t exchange contacts till after the second date, and after the third date is where you decide if you want a relationship with me or you think we’ll be better as friends. Or you don’t want to see me again. It’s up to you. Does that sound good??“
She didn’t even remember ever having met him and she thought it was a joke until the evening when Sade (their mutual friend) had come to ask her
“Kevin said should he dress casually or he should go a little corporate??”
Fortunately for her, he had asked an hour to the date so she had just enough time to throw some clothes on and take an okada all the way there. She was late by thirteen minutes, but he didn’t say anything about it.
The second date came and went.
The third came and went too.
She told him she would need a fourth date to make up her mind, and he obliged even though by that time, she had started telling all her friends that they were dating. The fourth date happened and it went well.
Then they started going to each other’s houses. This was rather tricky because Sade had never been to his house, so she couldn’t vouch for her safety or his behavior when they were alone, but she still went anyways. She was scared as hell, but she still went anyways and it was more fun than she had thought.
She met his roommate and saw everything his room had to offer. Her first thought was that his room was extra extra neat like he had put in tripled effort because he was expecting her. It made her feel nice, but she wondered what his room normally looked like.
They talked and laughed and he cooked for her. Indomie and egg that he still managed to burn. They played PES on his laptop too. She had thought PES was Purble Palace and had been really surprised when she saw it was football, but she still played anyways.
She kept waiting for him to suggest something sexual to her for them to do, but it never happened. And she went home.
Then he visited her hostel the next week after she had told him she wanted to see his new haircut. All the girls in her hostel kept dropping in to see her mystery boyfriend and he had just thought it was funny. “I feel like I’m famous or something”
That was the day they ever did anything that was remotely related to sex.
She made him lie down on her bed and then she lied down on top of him without a bra so he could feel the softness of her breasts on his chest. She took his hands from where they were lying limply in the bed to rest on her behind. Then she kissed him and told him she liked his haircut, but he should keep it full so she could run her hands through it.
He wanted to say something in return but it came out as a high pitched whine like someone was blocking his throat and that had been really funny.
That had been the day she saved his number as ‘Girl Voice’
That was a year and two months ago.
Fast forward to last week when they had been out with a couple of their friends and someone had made a generalized joke about girls and his reply had been “nah, Kanyin is not like that. I don’t know about other girls o, but my Kanyin is not like that. All of you just have bad luck with picking girlfriends”
And he looked at her and winked before moving on with the conversation with the guys.
She looked at him in admiration and awe and that was when she realized that she was ready. She wanted to have sex, and she wanted to have sex with him.
So that night after they were all done and he saw her to the gate of her hostel, she stood on the toes and whispered in his ears what was going to happen on Friday when she came over to his place to spend the night, then she kissed him on the cheek and walked inside. He just stood there, frozen with a childish smile on his face that was there all night.
Wednesday came and rolled by.
Thursday came too.
Then it was Friday, and it was 8pm, and she called him that she was on her way, and he said okay.
And then she was knocking on his door at 8:17 with her heart in her mouth and he opened it for her.
She sat down and dropped her bag and they talked for the first few minutes, trying to skirt the issue. Then there was an awkward silence.
Then they started smiling at each other, then she went to sit with him on his bed and the whole process started.
It hurt, but she wanted it. And she had gotten it.
But the thing about sex was that no one had ever mentioned to her what the post coital norms were.
He was lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring at the asbestos and she was lying on her side and resting on him and she didn’t like the silence between them. She was more nervous about now than she had been an hour before. She wasn’t going to say anything, but she needed to hear him say something.
“Hey…” He turned his face to her. “…was it good??”
“Was it good??” He repeated, wanting to know if he heard her right.
He had heard her right. But it was still funny to him. So he just smiled at her and went back to staring at the asbestos. But she wasn’t letting this go.
He turned to her again and he realized that this was important to her, so he answered.
“Tell me…I want to know”
He didn’t reply her. Not because he didn’t want to. Because he wasn’t sure how to.
Now she was getting scared. And the next words out of her mouth were “Did I do it better??”
This was getting a little out of hand, so he turned and faced her squarely.
“I can’t answer that…I don’t know if you did it better or not because…if I said you did it better…that would mean that I have some kind of prior experience…that I’ve done it with someone else, and I haven’t done it with anyone else. This was the first time for me as it was for you.”
She hadn’t known what she was expecting to hear, but this was okay for her. It was very okay for her…
“That one is for my hair”
“That’s for my fingers”
“That one just smells nice”
“Sorry, that one is for my roommate”
“That one is for when I have rashes”
“That’s body cream”
All this selection was amusing to him. Also a little bit annoying. Why any human being would need five to six different body soaps was beyond him. He only used one. For his face, hair, fingers and whatnot. It didn’t even matter what brand it was. As long as he had his bath. In her defence though, her skin was really glowing.
It wasn’t the number of soaps that was annoying him though. It was all the time he was spending on it. When she suggested sex in the shower, he had started to imagine three different scenarios in his head. All starting and ending differently. None of the three had anything to do with selecting soap.
The only plus side was that she was really finding it funny.
Standing under the running shower, she was enjoying the water on her fair skin and pointing at a random soap for him from the multitude of cans and tubes on the vanity. He had picked the right thing a long time ago, but she was having too much fun to tell him. She expected him to just give up and decide to take the shower without soap, and he did.
He went back to the first one, the one for her hair, and just emptied the contents on both of them.
She squealed as he poured the bottle on her head and on his body too. Partly in surprise and partly because he emptied the whole bottle on them. It was an expensive bottle. She also screamed because now the space between them was now less than a centimeter and the way he hugged her made every part of their bodies slip and slide against each other. It occurred to her in that moment that this was probably the reason why liquid soap was invented.
She switched off the shower so the soap lather would last longer on them.
She looked up to him to see him smiling at her like she was the best thing that ever happened to him. It was a little creepy, but also endearing. Her heart melted a little. His teeth weren’t pure white, but it came out against his dark skin. Chocolate. That was what she thought of when she thought about his skin. He made her think of a chocolate fountain that she could drink from all day long without getting sugar crazy. Where she could take as much as she wanted, anytime she wanted. No sharing.
She reached out her hands to his black low cut hair. Rubbing it slowly…
“Why are you smiling?? You look like you want to eat me and use me to increase your evil magic powers”
“Yes. The Baba said only light skinned girls can work for the sacrifice.”
“Don’t touch me. It’s funny abi??”
In reality, it was actually very funny, and they were both laughing. She was trying to slip out if his hold on her, but she couldn’t. He was strong even with all the soap on them.
“Mister man, leave me alone o. I didn’t not come to this life to be used for sacrifice by one black boy like that”
“But you like the black though.”
“I never said that. Leave me alone. I will shout o.
“If I kiss you, will you still shout??” He was already leaning in to kiss her. All the body contact between them was already doing something to him and even though he prided himself on his self control, he really didn’t want to wait anymore.
“Heyyyy, Mister man. Don’t kiss me. Leave me alone please”
“I should not kiss you?? So why are you biting your lips?? They’re almost swollen by the way”
She knew he had her and she just looked down. She really wanted that kiss, but she wanted to play with him too, but he was a really good tease and she was losing out. She just kept quiet and kept biting her lips. Drawing circles on his stomach.
“Okay, I won’t kiss you. MmDon’t worry. You should probably rinse your body off though. You’ll catch a cold if you’re here too long.”
He made a move to open the shower, but she blocked him. He tried to go around her, but she blocked him again
“Are you now angry?? You’re not supposed to be angry. You’re the one that said you wanted to use me for sacrifice”
“I’m not angry Nifemi, I’m just…” Hugged. Tightly.
His hands were at his sides and hers were around his chest. Her head was in the nook between his right shoulder and his neck. His slight annoyance was quickly turning into frustration till he felt her right hand slide up on his chest, towards his neck.
Her left hand went in the opposite direction. Going down and sliding over his abdomen and then sliding in between his legs. Her fingers found what they were looking for and he groaned when he felt her touch. She used the momentum of events to squeeze herself into his back even more. As much as possible with her hand fondling between them.
She licked his ear and whispered that she was sorry. Usually, getting him annoyed was good for the sex, but she really hadn’t intended to. Not this time.
She kept on licking his ear, twirling her tongue, pushing it as far as it could go inside his ear canal.
Down below, below his waistline, the temperature in his penis was getting higher as it filled with blood. In a matter of seconds, it went from soft and flaccid, to semi engorged, and to angry and hard and poking nothing in particular while her hand slid back and forth over his length
His normal voice came out as a croak. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before his voice could come out normally again.
“Nifemi. Stop this.”
“But I’m soorrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyy…..I dont like when you are angry with meeee” Half whining and half whispering.
“I’m not angry with you Nifemi, I just…fuck” Her hand was still moving up on him and her breasts were squeezing into his back and it was hard for him fo string words together. It felt like his brain was failing him and the only thing he could do was to give in to the pleasure and let her do what she wanted with him.
“Are you still angry??”
“Nifemi…” She had intentionally slowed down her movement and was intentionally making her movements on him as pleasurable as possible.
“Nifemi, let me turn.”
“No. Don’t turn. This is how I like it. And this is what you always do to me too. You are not turning, and you are not leaving this bathroom until you stop being angry with me”
“Don’t Nifemi me. I’m taking care of my baby and you are distracting me.” punctuating her words with her hand moving ever so slowly on the tip of his penis.
“I’m not stopping.”
“Nifemi…fuck!” And he was done.
Pleased at herself, she giggled in his ear and still continued to fondle him. She waited for a few minutes to feel him hardening again before she let go of him. The moment he turned, he attacked her lips and locked on it like he had never been kissed before, his left hand held her hands above her head and his right hand fumbled for the shower knob and found it. The water came rushing down on both of them and he lifted her against the wall and kissed her under it.
The next few minutes was intense for both of them…
If you’ve spent five to ten minutes on any porn site (for whatever reason), one of the most prevalent themes that you can’t not see is the stepmother/stepson or stepfather/stepdaughter relationship that is on every page. Along with tags like MILF, Ebony, PAWG and everything else there (I’m stopping here before you start to think I spend all my time on porn sites).
And of course, like the young mind I was when I started watching porn, one of the questions that was always on my mind was “Is this real??” “Can this happen in real life??”. I was always secretly wondering I knew anyone who had had that experience with their stepparent or some other type of debauchery and depravity. But I wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out about these things.
I was sixteen when my mother died. Of course I wasn’t immediately concerned about whether or not a stepmother would come in later. My thoughts were first about who would cook for us and who would wash my brothers’ clothes and who would drive us to school.
It was a jarring experience really, and in the days and months following the event, I learnt to cope with it. and I thought my brothers did too, until we started getting calls from their school about their truancy and their affinity for violence and destruction of school property. Apparently, they were not handling it well at all. My dad reduced his workload to be at home more often so he could oversee them, we always had our cousins who we thought would be positive influences staying over. We took church more seriously, and even considered changing their schools at one point. Nothing seemed to work permanently. They would always revert back to their saucy and aggressive and destructive ways.
It continued like that for a few years with nobody having any idea on how to deal with it, until I went home for the holidays after my first year in university. Almost immediately after I got home, my dad was telling me that we had to talk. we had to have an important conversation and if I hadn’t already been on my way home from school, he would have called me home just so we could have the conversation.
We had the conversation that same night, and the bottom line was simple. He was going to get married again. His reasons were simple. A mother figure might help to control my brothers a little before they were too old to correct, and he would have more time to focus on work and make more money to support the family. Also, he was still relatively young. He needed companionship too.
It was a conversation that took the air out of my chest, but I knew he was right. His reasons were very valid and I agreed with them. He told me he hadn’t yet asked the lady to marry him, but they had both talked about marriage and she had been open to it. It was Aunty Lola. My mum’s friend that had doubled her presence in the house since mum died. I liked her, she was cool. And apparently my brothers were friendly with her too. Everything was settled. They got married later that year. A simple, quiet court affair, and she moved in.
I can’t tell how much she did to correct my brothers when she moved in because I was always in school, but at least my dad seemed happy whenever he came to see me, and I got less calls about my brothers’ latest escapades. Either they had softened up, or they thought not to bother me again. Either was fine by me.
Aunty Lola was happy too, she never bore any resentment to me or my brothers. She never used inappropriate language on any of us, in fact after a while, it actually started feeling like she had always been the one taking care of us. It felt like she had been there all along. It felt like she was our mum.
As time went however, things began to change around the house, especially between me and Aunty Lola. Whenever I was at home, she was always extra nice to me. Little things that couldn’t be explained. We had a washing machine and I could wash anytime I wanted, but she made sure that she came into my room and packed all my dirty clothes and washed them for me. She would return them folded. My food was always top pick in the house, and she spent so much time with me. She rarely ever got angry with me and she always seemed interested in what I was interested in. On the tv, on my phone, in my room, wherever. She always wanted to know what I was doing and she wanted to be a part of it, but I didn’t think much of it.
The day I knew something was going on was the day she came into the bathroom while I was bathing. She came in with her towel wrapped around her chest and wearing nothing else. She came in and took in the fullness of my body before she took the bowl that she had come for, taking more time than she should have taken, considering that she even shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I just stood there staring back at her. It was later that I realised that she had not only come to check me out, she had come to show me her body too. and yes, I noticed it. Why wouldn’t I notice it?? with how light she was?? or her long legs?? or the way her body jiggled with each movement she made?? I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t notice it, or if I said it didn’t have an effect on me.
That episode came and went, but the next one was not so far behind and it was a bathroom experience too. this time, it was hers. My brothers had gone to school and my dad had gone to work. We were the only two people in the house when her phone started ringing. I ignored it at first and let it die, but then it started ringing a second time. Then I went to pick the phone and give it to her in the bathroom where she was having her bath. I knocked and told her her phone was opened before I cracked the door open to pass the phone to her.
And what was her reply??
“Open the door properly and give me the phone, it can fall down the way you’re holding it carelessly”
So I Opened the door properly and went into the bathroom to hand the phone to her. Of course she asked me to wait till she was done with the call so I could return the phone to where it was charging.
And of course, the call was a long one, so I just stood there waiting for her to round up and hang up, trying my possible best not to look at her, but I was in a toilet/bathroom, there was nothing else to look at.
Funny enough, she didn’t try to cover her body. In fact, I think she wanted me to look at it. She held the phone to her right ear and her left hand was across her head, covering her left ear entirely. I had a full side view of her cleanly shaved armpit and her drooping breasts and the rest of her body glistening with water and suds all over. Then she did this thing where she slowly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. her breasts swayed and her thighs and her behind jiggled. It was a marvelous sight that made my throat dry.
Eventually, she ended the call and I left the bathroom. you can be sure that throughout that day, that was the only thing I could think of.
Following that day, she did all kinds of funny things around me. Like slapping my ass and squeezing them when no one noticed. and when it was just us at home, she always dressed in the least amount of clothes. she was always just in her bra and panties and this was how she did all the house chores she wanted to do. Sometimes she didn’t bother with the bra. Sometimes the pant was a g-string.
At first I was uncomfortable, but then I realised that she was toying with me. she wanted me to react. to make the first move on her. But that wasn’t going to work. because I realised that if she was toying with me, I could also toy with her. I started wearing minimal clothes too. I started slapping her ass too. I spent more time in her room when my dad was around and did everything else I could think of. I could mess with her just as much as she could mess with me. It was simple as that, and it worked for me.
And of course she cracked first.
She came into my room a week before I was supposed to resume to part four. It was cold and dark and the thunder was endless. my brothers were on holidays too, so they were allowed to sleep in the parlour and watch tv all night. my dad had travelled for work and wouldn’t be back until some time when I was already in school. it was just me and Aunty Lola that were inside the house and not in front of the tv.
I was lying on my bed under the blanket, ears plugged in and watching a movie on youtube. I did not see or hear her as she entered. I only felt someone pull the blanket off of me and get under it too. She settled in beside me and I could feel her hot breath on my neck. Her legs somehow getting intertwined with mine and her hand coming to rest on my chest
“What are you watching?? Let me see too”
So I let her see. I gave her one ear of the earpiece too.
I appreciated the warmth. Her body heat was softly warming me up and making the blanket even more cozy to be under. She would snuggle closer to me every few minutes and I didn’t mind honestly. It was really cold.
I did not however realise that she was not necessarily moving closer to me for her own interests. Not until she started kissing my neck and she put her hand under the shirt I was wearing to grab my breast and squeeze my nipple.
My phone nearly fell out of my hand the first time she did that. I felt the sensation in my chest, and at the back of my head, and in my groin, and in my jaw, and everywhere else.
It hadn’t been just a squeeze and release, she had squeezed it like she was in bed with an old lover and she wanted the feeling to be as intense as it could be and for it to drag on for as long as possible. And maybe it was the cold or it was the games we had been playing before then, but I wanted more. I wanted her to touch me more.
I turned around and tackled her till I got on top then I kissed her mouth with a vengeance. Her mouth tasted like the fried fish we had for dinner. Salty and fishy and sloppy. Extra sloppy. She produced so much saliva that it was hard not to swallow some. As she produced it and pushed it down my throat, it got even harder not to get turned on. My whole body was on fire and I wanted more.
our tongues swirled and slid off each other. She pushed her fluids into my mouth and down her throat and I pushed mine into hers. The whole process was very intense. She sucked on my tongue till I couldn’t take it, and I bit her lip and stretched it out till it couldn’t go any further. I licked her face and the sweat on it and she left hickeys on my throat and on my jawline.
the blanket was too heavy to remain on us. I flung it off. I was straddling her now. The only thing illuminating the room was the light from my phone and the yellow light from the security light outside. The light wasn’t bright enough to do a photoshoot in, but it was bright enough for me to see that Aunty Lola was wearing one of my Dad’s t-shirts with no bra, and now that she was on her back her breasts looked flat, but I knew it wasn’t flat. it was anything but flat.
I helped her out of her shirt and the sight of her chest, golden coloured by the light streaking in, was something that became etched in my mind. I went down and attacked the one on my right. The moan that escaped her lips and the way her hand immediately found the back of my head just made me want to suck it harder.
her nipples were dark brown and her areolas were small, but her skin tasted like you would imagine it to taste like and it was hard to let go of it. I moved my mouth to her right breast and my hand stayed on the left one, teasing and flicking and squeezing.
her moans were barely a whisper now, but I still kept going.
And then I stopped.
I kissed her and pushed my tongue down her throat as far it would go. When I separated from her, there was a line of saliva connecting between our mouths. From there, her vagina was next.
Undressing her was easy. Her big shirt that she wore around the house covered the fact that she was wearing only panties underneath. But now that she was in my bed and her shirt was off, it was easy to get the white pant off and start running my tongue all over and inside her. She shook, screamed, pulled my hair and even locked her thighs over my head, but I wasn’t letting up. I wanted to get her off, and it was going to happen.
She didn’t squirt, but she let out a creamy whitish substance from her vagina and I lapped it up and sucked on her clit a little more before I stood up and took off my own clothes. I had given her pleasure, now it was my turn to receive.
My tank top went off and the bum shorts I was wearing went off too. she reached out for my breast, but that was not what I wanted. I wanted to sit on her face. I wanted to feel her tongue in me while buckled my hips to the pleasure of it. I wanted to use her, I wanted to make the object of my gratification, I wanted to turn her face to my bicycle seat. And that was what I did, and I didnt stop till she was running out of air and tapping my thighs to let her breathe.
I still wanted more. I moved down and positioned our openings against each other. The pleasure was good, but it was a little frustrating that I couldn’t get more. I wanted more, and grinding clitoris against clitoris was only going to do so much, but I didn’t know that then. I just kept grinding harder.
After the session, she would tell she loved it, but she hadnt expected me to be that aggressive in sex.
it was during the scissoring that it actually dawned on me that I might be a lesbian, and that my first partner was my Dad’s wife and my stepmother and the realisation actually kind of turned me on. I grinded harder till I got my orgasm and rolled off her panting.
We continued till I had to leave for school, but we always picked up after I came back home. I had one partner in school too, and she showed me where to buy dildos of different kinds.
I had my main girl in school, and I had my incestuous relationship at home.
It was perfect for me, until I graduated and moved out of home and started meeting other girls too, but that is an entirely different affair…
For the past three years that they had been classmates together, James and Elizabeth have played an unspoken game of cat and rat between the two of them. Winks here, lingering touches there, making each other jealous with other people, teasing themselves generally. The tides were always changing for them. Lizzy could be the one dressing sexy and provocative all week, looking like she was down for all kinds of sweaty and back-breaking activities with him or anyone else even. Laughing with her thin voice just within his earshot so he would look her way and she would ignore him. He would just smile at her, knowing the game she was playing, and she would wink at him from the corner of her eyes, her eyebrows heavy with black eyeliner that made the edges of her eyes looking as sharp as a blade. Ready to slice through him.
The next day or the next week, he would respond by sitting in a public place with a girl sitting on his lap and playing with his thick black hair and laughing. The public place was just to make sure she saw him playing with another girl. There usually wasn’t anything going on between him and the girl he picked to play with for the day. All he wanted to see was Lizzy’s reaction to another girl on him as she walked past with her friends. That pause. The shock that ran through her for the fraction of a second that you couldn’t have seen if you weren’t looking out for it. But he saw it. And she knew he saw it. And that was how they played their game.
Sometimes, he didn’t even have to use anyone else. Sometimes, he used her to get back at her. He would just randomly smile at her, or wave to her. Talk to her more inside and outside of class. Talk about her woes, and whatever boyfriend was currently giving her problems. They would walk together, attend classes together, take loads of pictures together for the whole of two weeks, or maybe three, and when he decided that she was hooked enough, he would leave her dry like he never met her before. Just like that. She didn’t have to do anything wrong. In fact, she rarely ever did anything wrong. He just left. This always drove her mad. She would be up all night thinking about him and he would be in his room peacefully sleeping and drooling from a corner of his mouth. Then the next day at school.
He wasn’t leaving her for anyone either. They were in the second semester of their third year on campus and he had had only one girlfriend throughout. A short four month relationship that he had gotten into with a transfer student from another department in their faculty. Lizzy had been moody for weeks after learning about it. And when she heard they finally broke up, she dressed up in as much make-up as her face would take and in as little clothes as she could and went to a party he was sure to be at. She walked in and everyone was gawking at her, but she didn’t care. She had a target in mind. She saw him sitting in a corner with two of his friends and he raised his drink to her when their eyes met, and mouthed “hot” to her, and then he disappeared.
She went to the ladies room to touch up her make-up before she went in for the kill, but when she came out, there was no sign of him or his friends. They had literally disappeared. This was the game they played. And it drove her crazy as much as it drove him crazy. It didn’t matter who was winning or losing. This was the game they played.
And they played it well, even if neither of them could actually remember when, how or why the game started. They played the game and they played it well.
And up till last night, neither of them had considered it ever going physical where they had hands on each other, but it happened.
They were in Econ 316 class when it happened.
Coming from God knows where, James got to the class late and tried to get into any available seat as silently as possible without drawing the Professor’s attention. Bent low and walking into the thrust stage class. He got one and just squeezed himself into it as silently as possible. He spent the first few seconds wiping the sweat from his forehead and trying to catch what the professor was saying. Apparently, he wasn’t that late. They were still going over the contents of the last class before they went into The day’s topic.
He breathed out in relief and brought his phone out to start recording the class for later when it hit him that the person beside him was wearing a familiar perfume smell. He looked beside him, and there she was. Fully concentrated on the class with her book open on the table and her pen between her fingers. He saw her and a smile broke out on his lips.
His reply was a sharp pain on his thighs where she had hit him with her pen. She wanted to be serious in class and she wasn’t going to let him be a distraction. He got the message loud and clear and he didn’t have a problem with it. He sat straight and fixed his eyes on the professor trying to get as much of the class as he could.
But the thing about classes on complex topics is that they are sometimes very boring, or very tiring, or both. Irrespective of how intelligent you are or how much interest you have in it. And it was worse when it was academic work and not something you stumbled on on your own.
So thirty minutes into the class, it wasn’t too surprising that Lizzy was bored. She dropped her pen and rested her back squarely and watched disinterestedly as the professor droned on about whatever theory he was trying to explain as he drew on the board. She thought he looked like an ad for a nursing home, and his drawing looked like a squid even though it was supposed to be a graph of some sort.
She wasn’t getting what he was teaching, and her brain had decided it would just shut off for the rest of the class. She now had ample time on her hands to do water she wanted, as long as she stayed in the class and she stayed quiet about it. But there was nothing to do.
There was no network on her phone, so she was disconnected from the internet. So texting and playing games were cancelled. She took a few pictures, but even that got boring quickly as she could only take the pictures with her phone under the table. She didn’t like the angles she was getting either. She moved to her pen and made a few drawings and doodles, but eventually she got bored too.
And then she glanced at her right, and she saw him sitting there. Him. with his rough hair and his fine face staring at the professor and magically understanding what was going on and writing so many things down.
She immediately wanted his attention. She wanted him to focus on her and not the professor.
She tore a piece of paper from her book and wrote on it. “I’m lost, would you mind explaining all this to me later??” and she passed it to him.
He took one glance at it and scribbled something on it before he passed it back to her.
She opened the note and there was her one word reply scrawled in black ink. “SURE!”
She looked back at him, but his attention was back on the professor like it never left there and she felt annoyed again. What was the Professor saying that was so important?? She was torn between breaking his concentration disturbing him and focusing on the class herself. She did the latter grudgingly because she realised that this was what she was what she was in school for, not the boy with rough hair and the cute moustache beside her, and she couldn’t blame him for focusing on his class either. So she faced her class too.
Five minutes later, she was bored again. Concentrating had been no use, so now she was fully devoted to doing whatever she could to get the attention of the boy beside her. And the first thing she did was to place her right hand on his left thigh. She didn’t look at him, and she didn’t move her hand either. It just remained there. Then she pulled her nails to the center of her palm slowly, enjoying the vibrations of her nails as it dragged over his jeans. She pulled them into a fist, then she released her hand again and returned them to their position on his thigh and paused.
Her orange nails stood out against his black jeans and it was hard for him not to notice how brightly coloursed they were. It was like his skin that was burning underneath where her hand was was not enough to let him know that her hand was on him. His eyes had to notice it too and the neurons in his brain started overfiring. He really didn’t have much of a choice.
And then she started moving her hand again. This time, she was moving it back and forth, slowly, smoothly, increasing his temperature a hundredfold with every square centimeter she covered.
He broke his attention to look at her, but she wasn’t even looking at him. She was staring pointedly at the lecturer and nodding along, her hand still not slowing down or picking up speed. She kept her movement steady. She was toying with him.
He thought he could take it, and he tried his best to, but the swell in his pants was threatening to become visible and he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have her knowing she had any kind of effect on him. So he put his hand on hers to stop her from going any further. He put his hand on hers and stopped her in place.
She almost couldn’t stop herself from breaking into a smile. She didn’t think he would show any signs of being affected, and was so impressed by herself that she was able to break his attention. She wanted more, she wanted to see how far she could push him, but she would wait till he made his move. But she didn’t have to wait long. His warm hand on hers suddenly squeezed and let go, then he picked up her hand and placed it on her thighs.
Then he removed his hand from hers and placed it directly on her thighs, and then he waited too.
It took five seconds before his hand started moving on her jeans skirt. His hand moved to the edge of the skirt that sat just above her knees, but when it was coming back up, he pushed her skirt up too, so his hand moved back up on her bare smooth skin. The table had now turned against her. She was now the one fighting hard not to squirm under his touch. The way he slid his hand up on her skin and then squeezed her thigh like he wanted to do more than just squeeze it was something she felt in her core and her breath hitched in her throat.
He squeezed a second time and she almost slapped his hand away as she bowed her head to keep her face away from the wrinkly old professor in front of the class. She looked down and met the sight of his big hand adorned with three silver rings and every last bit of her resistance (that she didn’t even have before) fell apart.
When his hand moved higher up her thighs she couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than to gasp for air and wait in anticipation for his touch.
His hand went far up enough for him to gain access into her, but he didn’t. He slid his hand back down a little. Then he lifted her whole thigh and placed it on his before he pushed his hand up her skirt again, this time not stopping for anything. His hand went up till he felt the heat between her legs on the back of his fingers, and he didn’t even stop at that. He felt her heat, and he rubbed on her vagina through her cotton panties. Slowly, like the way she did when she started rubbing on him. After a while, when he felt she had had enough and wanted more, he put out his index finger to try and get her panties out of the way. He was almost successful when her hand clamped down on his wrist strongly. But that only made him pause momentarily. He still went ahead, pushing her underwear out of the way with his finger.
He looked at her to make sure he had her approval, but it even looked to him like she was praying for it to happen. Her eyes were closed and her head was a little bit thrown back and she was biting down on one corner of her bottom lip. He kept his eyes on her wanting to see her reaction to the contact of his finger against the skin of her now slightly swollen lower lips. But he couldn’t see the look on her face because the touch never happened.
They were interrupted by the rumbling of their coursemates standing up and leaving the class. They were done with Econ 316n for the day.
She pulled down her skirt as fast as she could before anybody suspected what they had been doing, and she packed her books to leave.
He stood up to leave too, but he made sure she saw him lick his two fingers before he left to mingle with his guys to talk about whatever they talked about and she hurried to the toilet to splash water on her face and cool herself off.
She didn’t see him in any of their other classes or even hear from him until later that night when he texted her.
“Do you want to come over??”
Her day was horrible. From the very start where she found that she forgot her lab coat at home and had to go back home to pick it up and eventually got to the lab late for practicals. And the practicals were horrible too. She knew what she was doing, what she was supposed to do, but for some reason, she just couldn’t do it and the repeated failure messed with her head, but eventually, she got it done. Going home after standing for practicals all day was another experience. The lab was far from the nearest bus stop on campus. The lab had accessible roads, but they were not open to commercial vehicles so she had to walk about five hundred meters to get to where she would get a but to leave the campus and head to her room and listen to Sade Adu and sleep off. Maybe with tears on her face. But it’s the rainy season, and before she gets to the bus stop, the clouds are dark and the winds are strong and cold and threatening to burst.
At the bus stop, there were no buses to get into and the rain had started. She didn’t stay in it for long though. She got a ride from a good samaritan and he dropped her off a small walk away from her building, better than where the bus would have dropped her at the school gate.
She said thank you and got out of the car and ran all the way home covering her hair and her school bag as much as she could. She got into her compound and didn’t stop as she got on the staircase, running all the way to her room on the third floor, dripping all over the tiled floor as she fumbled inside her bag for her keys. She found them and went into the room and she emptied her bag on the floor to see how much of the rain had gotten into its contents and hung the bag up to dry.
Her clothes came off next. Her lab coat, her blouse and her jeans went off and she threw them in a bucket for later. She was tired now and she just wanted to sleep. washing them would come later in the morning. She was in only her tanktop and her underwear, preparing her bed when her neighbour knocked on her door.
She really didn’t want to entertain visitors, not right now, but Kunle was a nice guy. He had done favours for her several times in the past and he rarely ever asked for anything. So if he was here in person, standing at the doorpost of the open door instead of having sent a text, then it was something serious.
“Kunle how far na, what’s up??”
But Kunle’s mission in the room had just changed. He had come to borrow her gas cylinder to continue the food he was cooking, but now that he was in the room, he wasn’t thinking about cooking anymore, he was thinking about her. The sight of her long legs that was entirely exposed to him made his blood run, her skin smooth and light. Her big breasts and her nipples stood out visibly through the (still wet) tanktop that hugged her body and he could not help but stare at her as she didn’t stop moving her hands over her bed, and her breasts and her body moved along with her. Suddenly, staring was not enough. He wanted more, and he was going to take it.
He stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him and locked it. The moment she heard the sound of the locks, her brain sent signals down her head, “something is happening”, but it was Kunle, so she just stood still and waited for him to say what he wanted.
But Kunle wasn’t talking, and he wasn’t standing still like her. He kept moving closer to her, slowly, and in her confusion, she didn’t act. She just stood there until he got close to her and she was forced to move back and she fell on her bed. In a blur of movements, his zipper was down, and her panties were pulled down to her knees, and his hands were holding hers down. That was when she knew what was going on. Every fiber of her being willed her to run, but her mind still hoped that this was a joke or a prank or something similar because Kunle never did anything like this to her before. Kunle was a friend.
Tears started coming out of her eyes when she felt the head of his penis push at her entrance. It wasn’t going in, so he brought one of his hands to his lips and gathered spit and he rubbed it on her entrance and forced himself in.
She wasn’t a virgin, she had had sex twice before, but just twice, and it was a long time ago, so her body was tight. and she willed it even tighter as if it would prevent him from getting into her, but it didn’t work. He pushed his length into her and started moving slowly back and forth.
For him, the initial pleasure was much more than what he expected and he nearly lost his control and collapsed on top of her.
For her, it was hell. She could only scream and shout from underneath him as he picked up his pace and his grunts got louder. The tears flowed freely.
A knock on the door gave her a glimmer of hope. Someone had heard her shouts and had come to see what was going on. For Kunle though, this was trouble. He got off her fast and pushed his still raging erection into his trousers and went to the door.
“Who dey there??”
“Na me, open door.”
“Who be you??”
“Na me, open door!!”
Kunle was trapped. He didn’t know if it was one person outside, or twenty people there. He couldn’t open the door because he would probably be lynched, But he would still need to leave eventually.
In his mind, he made a plan to open the door a little to see how many people there and see if he could make a run for it. So he opened the door a little and peeped out to see who it was.
It was Lekan at the door. Just Lekan, but Kunle knew he was in trouble.
Lekan had a big mouth and an even bigger body. Lekan was the guy that spent at least two hours of every day in the gym, carrying weights and working out. Lekan was the guy that nobody wanted to get into a fight with. And Lekan was the guy in front of the door pushing Kunle back so he could get access to the room.
Lekan got in and closed the door behind him and took a look at the helpless Simi on the bed.
“Kunle, wetin you dey do for here?? you dey rape girl??”
There was no reply from Kunle, and Lekan didn’t ask a second time.
Lekan’s palm landed on Kunle’s face
“You dey rape girl?! You fit rape your mama for house?! Idiot boy!”
Another slap landed
“You no fit talk?! Why you rape am?!”
Kunle, mostly stunned by the slaps on his face that had made his eyes blood red now, still couldn’t say anything. He just stood there, arms at the ready to defend himself from a third slap.
“You sha don finish ba, you don do am and your eye don clear for her body abi?? Nice one. Oya, hold her mouth make I do my own too”
Those were the worst words that Simi had ever heard in her entire life. Even years after, when she was old and died at the ripe old age of 84, no string of words that she heard or read would ever come close to the one that. And the feeling of weakness and helplessness that she felt in that moment would follow her into her grave on every inch of her skin and in every drop of blood and every organ inside of her as she was wrapped in white linen and placed in the ground according to muslim dictates.
Her eyes felt like they had tapped into an endless source of water the way the tears flowed.
Kunle too, when he heard those words was frozen to the spot. Never in his life did he think something like that could or would ever happen. And it was all his fault.
Simi would be raped twice in one night, only minutes apart. If he didn’t let Lekan have his way, he would be beaten into submission and he would have just said the beating was for catching him in the act. Lekan could claim innocence. If the story ever got out, Lekan would twist it to say that he was invited in to partake in the act, and he never had anything to do with it, and depending on who the story got out to, his life was ruined. The school, the church, his office, the police. Everyone of them would easily believe what Lekan said against him.
“You no hear me?! I say make you hold her mouth make I lock door and I go do my own inside. You dey mad??”
Kunle willed his feet to move and he climbed on the bed to cover her mouth. Her only words to him were “Kunle please”.
He covered her mouth and looked away from her face filled with tears, as his own tears ran down too.
All through the ten minutes of Lekan’s doing in and out of her, Simi screamed and kicked and begged and whimpered till she couldn’t do it anymore and just closed her eyes and cried.
Immediately after Lekan was done, he pulled his trousers up and left the room without saying a word. Kunle stayed a few minutes longer out of guilt, but he wasn’t even in a position to try and offer comfort to her because he had brought this upon her. It was entirely his fault.
He left too and went to his room and locked the door and sat against it. Crying silently in the darkness till he fell asleep.
That’s not him.
That’s not him.
That’s not him.
That’s not him.
That was the argument that had been raging in her head for the last twenty or so minutes. Her brain was nagging her at the particular guy seated a few tables across her eating his food. He looked so much like Niiyi, but at the same time, he looked so different from Niiyi, even though she had not seen Niiyi in six years?? Maybe seven??
The guy across her had the face and body stature that looked like Niiyi, but Niiyi was not as built as this. If he was Niiyi, that would mean that he had spent A LOT of time in the gym to get like this. He looked like Niiyi, she wouldn’t deny that, but Niiyi was not bald. She didn’t even think she had ever seen Niiyi on low cut. The guy (sorry, man) she was looking at had a very shiny bald head that looked like a strand of hair had never grown on it, and it looked perfect on him.
Niiyi wore t-shirts, this man was wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans and black leather shoes. The sombre colour was something Niiyi would definitely wear, but not the clothes style. Of course, it was very on character for Niiyi to be alone in public, but if it was him, his ears would be plugged with something and his head would be bopping to music. There was an airpods case on the table though, if that could be considered as a pointer for anything.
Her brain insisted that she knew this person, but her mind was skeptical and her eyes kept darting back and forth. Trying to find more details, and trying to remain inconspicuous.
“Ma, do you want to pay with cash or with your card??”
Her eyes shot up to the voice behind her. She hadn’t heard or seen the waiter walk up to her, so she was a little startled.
“What did you say??”
“I said do you want to pay with your card or pay in cash??”
“Card. Is there POS??”
“Yes ma. Let me go and get it. I’ll be right with you.”
She watched the waiter walk away to the other occupied tables and ask the same question. There were three tables occupied in the restaurant. Hers, Niiyi’s (or at least his lookalike) and one with four people seated around it. They had more papers on their table than food. They had all opted to pay with their cards.
The waiter came back with the POS machine and attended to Niiyi’s lookalike and spent a few minutes with him before moving to the next table. by the time he got to her, the lookalike was already on his feet and gathering his things. He was done and ready to leave and she still hadn’t gotten a clear view of his face yet, and it was even harder with her view blocked by the waiter and her attention divided between him and the POS machine. By the time she was done, his table was empty. She tried to see if she could see the exit he left from, but she didn’t see anything because he actually hadn’t left. He was behind the waiter, waiting for them to conclude business before he stepped into her view and spoke with his rich deep baritone voice.
“Taiwo??…I knew it was you”
“Niiyi!!!” She got up to hug him because she was truly happy that it had turned out to be him.
You see, Taiwo and Niiyi were long time friends that had seen each other through dark times and even darker times, and eventually the relationship had morphed into something physical, and it had been beautiful. Up until the moment where Taiwo had decided that she didn’t want the two of them to continue whatever they were doing without putting an official title on it. Niiyi didn’t feel like he was ready for the commitment and responsibility, so he didn’t want the official tag, and they broke up. After the breakup, Niiyi had thought that he would still have his friend, just without the sex, but he was wrong. She cut him off entirely. Deleted his numbers, blocked him on social media accounts and created new ones to avoid him and cut off all their mutual friends too. Of course, Niiyi found these accounts and he found out about every other thing she had done and he confronted her about it, and she had told him that she was done with him. The breakup had been painful, but Niiyi still had hope that she would come around. Hell, he had even been open to putting an official status on their relationship like she wanted. But after graduating from uni (two years after their final breakup) and there was still no response from her, not even to congratulate him on making a first class degree, he knew it was over and he moved on with his life too.
During his NYSC, he met another person. Another wonderful lady, and he made sure to put an official status on their relationship and everyone knew them together. And it would have ended in marriage too, if the lady had not died during the birth of their son. After his NYSC came a very lucrative job with an oil company where he had been working for the last eight years. He was a made man, and it showed on him.
Taiwo too had gone on with her life. She dated a few guys in school after she and Niiyi broke up, but nothing serious came out of it. During her NYSC, she decided to discard her hijab and put religion on backpedal. She had been fornicating anyways, so there was no need for that again. Plus she didn’t entirely believe in religion anymore after her two older brothers died a week apart from each other. Both of them taking their last breaths in her arms. She became an only child overnight. She got a job after NYSC and eventually ended up marrying her boss. A decision that she would regret for the rest of her life, but she didn’t know that on the day of the nikkai.
She was the second wife to a very territorial woman who bullied and abused her physically and emotionally and mentally till she had to get her own place. She also changed jobs multiple times. It was hard to get respect and secure promotions at where she and her husband worked without having to deal with insinuations of having married to get ahead. She quit and applied to other jobs, but they wouldn’t take her because they didn’t want a scandal, or they offered her lower positions and paychecks than she should have had. A few of them even demanded for sex from her. Demanded, not asked, not cajoled, demanded. Because “For Glo where you dey come, no be toto you use collect work??” The world of telecommunications was a very small one and these things flew around and she was helpless to them, even if they were all untruths.
Eventually, she had given up and gotten into the importation business. The rich men in the Telecomms world wouldn’t hire her, but at least their wives would buy Gucci bags and Chanel sandals from her. It was hard, but she made something out of it. Having only her own mouth to cater to also helped. Her parents had died out of grief from their sons’ deaths, but that was okay, They were old anyways. She didn’t have a child either. She and Alhaji were always busy when she still worked at the office, and even when they weren’t busy, there was still the first wife to contend with. When she quit, he had neglected her entirely and married a third wife. She was married in name only. Life had dealt her her cards.
The hug lasted for five long minutes and she enjoyed every bit of it. Even though her height was not nearly up to his and she had to stand on her toes while pulling him down at the same time. The smell of his perfume filled her nostrils and she realised that the way he laughed with his thick voice was something she missed and she did not want to let go. His voice was much deeper and even now, and his smell had changed a lot from the two hundred naira perfumes he used to use when they were still in school.
The last time she had seen him, she was in a car carrying her brothers’ corpses to the village, and he was in a car that passed by theirs on the journey. They had seen each other, but there was no chance of communication as both cars moved past each other in opposite directions.
The last time she had spoken with him, it was at his apartment in school when she had gone to return the several gifts he had bought her and his things that he always seemed to forget at her place. Both instances were years ago, and now he was here in front of her.
She almost couldn’t believe it.
“I was going to leave, but then I saw you and I had to come say hello. I almost didn’t recognise you. You stopped covering your hair.”
“Yes. I saw you too. I was like who is that fine man sitting by himself?? I wanted to come and collect your number sef. Fine man. You look good.”
“Guy, don’t start this again, please” He wasn’t used to her constant teasing anymore and he was as susceptible as ever. If she pushed too hard, he would probably empty his account on her. And his account was a lot.
“I’m serious. You look fiiiiiiiine. Why are you cutting skin though?? I like you when you had hair. Although this one fits you too sha. Awon madam nko??”
“Ko si madam jare. She’s late. I decided not to marry again.
The hair thing is recent. I had a bet with one of my bosses that I could rock skin better than him. I won the bet and I just decided to keep it that way. How have you been Taiwo??”
That question made her just want to start running her mouth and tell him every detail of everything that had happened in her life since they had broken up, but she couldn’t bring herself to. The memory of having been the one that broke up with him made her unable to.
But more than the question, it was his eyes. He looked at her like he was looking at a younger version of her. A younger version of her that was on top of her world and was perfect in his eyes. His eyes touched her and made her feel something inside.
It felt like this was her Niiyi, and she could claim to be his, and all was right in the world, but it only felt like that. She was not his, and he was not hers. And nothing was right in the world.
But they both still sat and caught up on old memories and talked about what had happened to either of them since they last spoke. They spoke for hours until Niiyi’s driver came to remind him that they had a meeting to be at. He was going to blow the meeting off, but she had to leave too. They could only exchange contacts and promise to keep in touch with each other from time to time. Both of them conveniently skirting the breakup.
Niiyi’s car left the restaurant grounds with him explaining how that was the woman he wanted to marry when he was still in university. How they loved each other and he had even made plans for them to travel out together and had started saving up towards it. He laughed at himself for his youthful naivete, and his heart ached silently as he laughed out loud.
Taiwo too, alone and silent in her car, wished that things had gone differently.
It isn’t until weeks later, during a delivery run on the island that she decided to call him and ask for an invitation to his place. Of course, the idea of seeing him again had been constantly reappearing in her mind, but she still couldn’t will herself to call him. Even the decision to call him had been made in the middle of the road while she was driving. She had made beautiful sales in the last couple of days and she was feeling particularly good with herself and decided that she would call him. What was the worst thing that could happen??
She found the nearest parking spot and searched for his number on her phone and called him. When she made the call and the voice she heard from the other end was a woman’s voice, she tensed up a little. But it was only his secretary. He was not in the country, but he would be back by the weekend and he would call her when he got back.
On Friday afternoon as he was walking out of the airport, her number was the third one he called from an endless list of people who had tried to reach him. Saturday was when they fixed their appointment for. He hadn’t wanted to call it a date, so appointment was the next most appropriate thing. But it was going to happen, and it was going to happen at his place and it surprised him that someone of his age and status could still get excited by that kind of thing. If it hadn’t been the jetlag and fatigue in his bones, he probably wouldn’t have slept that night.
The next day rolled around and in nervousness and anticipation, she dressed up and left her house to go to his. His house was big, very big, but it wasn’t an ugly monstrosity like most of the other houses that were in his estate. It was obviously built to taste. He was outside waiting for her, looking like he was going to buy something at the supermarket than for a date (*appointment) with an old friend that used to be the love of his life.
He wore a plain white shirt and black shorts. A single gold bracelet was around his left wrist. His two phones were in his hand and his wallet bulged from his pocket. His hair and beard were showing signs of growth, but it wasn’t so obvious. It looked good on him in a way that was sexy and edgy.
As she got down from her car and looked at the serene sight of the compound, he came over and hugged her and led her inside. From the moment when she stepped into the house, there was no apprehension of any sort. She walked around barefooted as he gave her a tour of the big house and she almost got lost in it. He had two living rooms, eight rooms with their own bathrooms and walk in closets and a library that smelled strongly of old books. Barring the kitchen, that was the only part of the house that smelled differently. They sat by the pool and ate while they talked about everything, but in more details this time. At the end of the day, he knew about her all her woes with Alhaji and his three other wives and their children and how she was desperately fighting for a divorce and she kept getting subverted. and she knew about his heavy workload and heavily politicised job and how he written his letter of early retirement, but the amount of money he made daily and monthly was too much for him to actually submit it. The letter was in his drawer in his office waiting to be signed and submitted the moment he made up his mind that he had enough.
They ate fruits and drank the juice that one of the servants brought out to them. They spent the whole day talking and neither of them noticed as time sped and blurred past them. They eventually went inside to his room upstairs, where he brought out a box of pictures that went as far back as when they were still friends. He had kept the memories all through the years, even though he hardly ever went through them. His graduation pictures were there, pictures of when he started his job, of his siblings and parents, of the late mother of his child and his little boy in London and virtually every other important period of his life. She went through everything and she could only smile at his progress through the years and think to herself “what if??”
He was so proud of how far he had come, even with all the problems he had faced and was still facing, and she could only be proud of him too. He had done well for himself.
The way they sat so close together that their thighs were touching, and the way his voice was thick and resounding in her ears added to the feeling of missing an old friend and having missed out on what would have or could have been a beautiful life was too much for her. Silent tears ran down her face and they largely went unnoticed until a drop fell on one of the photos. She excused herself to go to the restroom before any question could come up.
Even his restroom was beautiful. It looked like a restroom from a magazine. Everything was white and immaculate. The soap smelled like a flower she couldn’t name and the mirror was taller than her. She did her best to clean her face and regain her composure and washed her hands as she left.
When she got back into the room, he had already packed the pictures back into the box. It was unnecessary, but she was grateful for it. She went back to where she sat beside him and they both sat in silence until he decided to hug her and the tears came flowing down her again. Neither of them said anything and just let her cry.
After a while, she stopped crying and just sat in his embrace in the cool air conditioned room. When she looked up at him, his eyes were already on her, and she didn’t think twice about it, she kissed him.
The kiss was weird for her because she didn’t imagine that she would be kissing anyone again. She was thirty two, and a certain age, these things just stopped happening. And if she had thought about it, she couldn’t have imagined that it would be him she would be kissing, even though there was no one else that she would rather do it with.
He too, had felt weird about the kiss. As a result of work and his busy schedule, he generally had no time for women. Since the death of the mother of his son, he could count all the women he had been with on one hand. He was busy with work and the thought of having a second child was not something that plagued him, but the idea of using his lips to wipe off the pink lipstick that coloured her lips was something that he had thought about all evening. And now that it happened, the memories of their escapades so many years ago came flooding back. It was like those memories had been locked away and sunk to the depths of his mind, but the moment their lips touched, they were back like nothing ever happened. And he also realised how much he had loved the woman in his arms.
…and then all that was followed by memories of how she had broken him and torn his world apart.
He wasn’t going to do that to himself again. And he wouldn’t give her a chance to do it either.
He let the kiss run its course because he didn’t want to stop it halfway. Her enthusiasm told him of how much she had missed the touch of a man. How much she had missed his touch in particular. He didn’t want to separate from her and then shatter her heart. No, he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t a cruel man. And if he was being entirely honest with himself, he was enjoying it too. Much more than he thought he would. Much more than he should have, and he almost got carried away with it, but he regained his senses.
As the kiss broke up and Taiwo was about to stand up and pull his shirt from over his head, he held her hands.
“Taiwo…stop. We can’t do this…”
She just sat there looking puzzled with her makeup smudged lips.
“We can’t do this. The last time we did something like this, I was the one that was broken for almost four years. I’m sorry, I can’t do this again.”
“Niiyi we were kids then, I didn’t know anything, I’m sorry”
“I know, but I can’t do this…I really can’t. All these years, I kept waiting for you to come back to me. Even when I was dating Lara, and even after she died. I was waiting for you. Do you understand that?? I was waiting for you to come back to me from a breakup that happened years ago, even when I had my son in my hands…”
Then it hit her. It was in that moment that she truly came to understand the damage she had done to him. She had made her decisions based solely on her own feelings. Her own wants and needs, and she had conveniently forgotten about him and how he would feel.
There was nothing wrong in the way she had prioritised herself and her own feelings except that now there was a broken man in front of her. A man too broken to even hold her again for fear of being fixed, then broken again. She really understood how it felt, even though she couldn’t begin to understand the pain he had gone through.
She just stood up and walked out of his room, and out the door with her shoes and bag in her hand as she left. She couldn’t even cry on her way home. It hurt, it really did, but the tears were not coming.
She squeezed her eyes and stayed up all night thinking about him, but there was nothing to say or do.
He was done.
On his part, he wished he hadn’t said those things, but he also knew that he had been honest. With himself and with her. It was better this way.
He went downstairs to his kitchen and called out to his chef.
“Chef, ki la ma je laleyi??”
I hesitated. I didn’t like her tone. A bitch wasn’t going to come to my house and order me around in my house.
“I said lick it”
I didn’t want to answer her, I really didn’t, but I was already so close. My mouth was literally just inches away from her opening and I could smell her from a few inches away. It was her own distinct smell, but it wasn’t a bad smell. She faintly smelled of sweat, and a little urine, and her sweet flowery perfume I had smelled earlier in the club.
Her shave was probably two days old, and the hair was just coming out again. Forming a slightly darker V shape just around her vagina. She had a FUPA, but it wasn’t fat fat. It was just okay.
Seeing her up close was enough to pull me into her. I wanted to know what she tasted like, to see if it tasted as good as she smelled, so I licked it. I put my hands around her thick thighs and pulled her closer to me. My mouth was getting to work on her.
Immediately I touched her, she wrapped her thighs around my head. And the more time my tongue spent on her surprisingly large nub, the more she tightened around me. My head was getting locked in, and it was getting harder to breathe. I didn’t have the free space to lift my head up and play with her ass, so I just went deeper in her vagina. The headlock was restricting me. I couldn’t breathe.
I tapped her thighs to let me up for some air, she didn’t let up.
“Yes! Suck it! Lick it! Suck it with your whole mouth! Yes!” moaning between her words. Her words were annoying me. I was trapped and running low on air, and all she could do was shout at me. Lick it, suck it, wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be getting all the licking and sucking??
I licked it though. I put my tongue into her as far as it would go, and I licked and sucked. Sucking her clit felt like I was sucking a little dick, but I sucked it anyway and it drove her wild. She thrashed and buckled, but she didn’t let go of her hold on me, and I didnt give up mine either. She just kept screaming for more. She would call God for a while, then she would beg me to stop, then she would ask me for more, then she would moan again in an irregular voice. It was a whirlwind of sounds and actions, and it lasted for all of ten minutes till she ran out of strength to hold me down and she let me go.
I rose up from between her legs and was greeted with a view of her naked and sweaty body on my bed. Her hair was tousled and she looked like this was the best she had gotten in a while.
“I like boys that are good with their tongue. You’re a good boy.” Of course I wasn’t going to reply to that. Whatever power play she was doing, or joke she was trying to pull off, it wasn’t working. It was just annoying. And I was properly annoyed, and my dick was hard.
I wasn’t going to let the semi rape slide just like that. No. Fucking. Way.
I pulled her close and pushed my length inside her. It was a smooth entry. She didn’t need any more lubrication for me to slide in. All that saliva added with her own natural juices were more than enough.
Her insides were soft to the touch. Loose and slippery. The suction that her vagina created around me was intense, but it still felt like I was masturbating with an overlubricated sex toy that was designed for someone with more length and girth than me. It was just too smooth. Too pleasurable. Easy to pound. And I was going to pound it. Hard.
I took a few strokes to ease into it before I grabbed her neck and started hitting it hard. Oh, I was angry, and all that anger was poured into smacking my pelvis into hers and smacking it again.
Her mouth was no longer running this time. Maybe because of my hand round her neck, squeezing at the sides and cutting off blood flow to her head, or it could be because of the pounding she was getting. Either way, she wasn’t doing all the trash talk like before. The sounds that came out of her mouth now were barely intelligible. It was my turn now to do all the trash talk.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, dirty, useless, horny bitch. Fuck you” each one accompanied with a thrust into her. Her only reply was “Yes” over and over again. She just kept saying yes. and I kept hitting it with the same vengeance.
Her legs wrapped around my back and pulled me to her, and I went even harder in her.
I removed my hands from her neck and it was a little bruised, but I really didn’t care. She wanted it rough. I was giving it to her rough.
I held down her hands on each side of her head and clamped down on it. I wasn’t even annoyed anymore, but all that energy was still coursing through me and it had to be spent somewhere.
There was a minor debate in my mind whether to spill into her from this position, or switch to something else before I was spent. I stayed like that. I didn’t want to go through the process of untangling her legs around me and bending her back for backshots. Which would have been quite the sight, but I was close already. I just made my strokes harder till I filled the condom and got off her.
I lied down on the bed breathing hard, and she was panting beside me too and I thought that was all until she got up and put her lips to my dick, licking and slurping it up like it was coated in milk and sugar. She licked everything. Her cream and mine, and she licked it clean. Of course I would still need a bath after all this, but her tongue had done a wonderful job, and her throat had swallowed everything.
After she was done, she came to lie down beside me and kissed me, and I kissed her back. I put my tongue inside her mouth and pushed a gob of spit down her throat and she took it greedily. Our mouths played and came in and out of each other till we eventually broke off the kiss and she said “Thank you.” And of course she was welcome.
My hand stayed on her ass, and her head was on my chest till we slept off, neither of us bothering about the covers.
In the morning when she was leaving, she gave me her name and her number, along with her official card.
“If you want to see me again, call me. I’m not a prostitute though, I just like good sex.”
I wasn’t a player either, I just liked good sex with random babes from the club every other Friday after a stressful work week. I would call her though, or I would conveniently forget her card in my wallet. I hadn’t decided. But I didn’t tell her all that. All I said was “Okay”, and watched as she swayed her ass in her tight jeans and heels.
Maybe I was going to call her again…
He almost didn’t hear the knock on the door.
It just happened that at that moment, the song he was playing had ended, and he was in the few seconds of silence before the next song started.
“Who is there??”
He put on the lights and went to open the door. Bare-chested and barefooted. He wasn’t expecting anybody, and definitely not at this time either. He had planned to work all evening and into the night, so he had cancelled all outings and switched off his data to avoid distractions and stayed in with his ears plugged in, playing music at an almost deafening volume while he tapped away on his laptop keyboard. This visitor was very unexpected and more than a little bit unwelcome.
The light from his room spilled into the dark passageway and on the face of his guest as he opened the door. Never in his life would he have thought he would be seeing her here.
“Hi, good evening”
“Hey, good evening, how are you??”
“I’ve been good…”
“Do you want to come inside?? my room is a little rough, but it’s not so bad. come inside”
He opened the door wider and motioned for her to come in. In three tentative steps, she was in the room and looking around at the mid-sized room. She didn’t sit down intentionally.
“Is your roommate around??”
“No, I live alone now. I decided to stay on my own here”
“I like it”
“Yeah. what do I offer you?? I think I have some drinks in my fridge or I could get something for you downstairs.”
“I’m okay. I only came to talk to you. it won’t be a long conversation.”
“Okay, so let’s talk…”
She came to talk. What did she want to talk about that she couldn’t text and had to come over at 9:26 pm without calling first?? And there was also the fact that he hadn’t given her directions to his new place. Hell, he hadn’t even told her that he was moving out from his former place.
“Since we broke up, have you been with anyone else??”
That was a question he half expected, and he answered truthfully.
“No, I haven’t been with anybody. I decided to take a break from the whole dating thing. I’ve just been on my own.
He answered and she looked at him like she didn’t believe him. She didn’t say anything though. Her friends had told her the same thing too. That he was still single to the best of their knowledge. She didn’t believe it though. Because she knew him. He was too good to be true. the almost perfect boyfriend. She had expected someone else to have scooped him up immediately they had broken up. But apparently, no one had.
The first question was the easy part. The hard part was the question she was going to ask next. Her throat felt like it was swollen.
“Okay. Um… the second question…can you please take me back??”
surprisingly, she saw his face soften. She thought he would kick her out and say mean things to her. But then again, he had never been the one to do things like that.
She wouldn’t have been surprised though, if she knew what had been on his mind.
After the first question, he had been expecting her to tell him that she had given him some sort of STD or STI. And from the look on her face, it was probably something terminal. especially since he hadn’t been taking drugs to treat whatever it was for a little more than a year now. He couldn’t have treated what you didn’t know he had.
So when she asked him to take her back, he was relieved. His mind had cooked up the worst-case scenario, and it hadn’t been that. It wasn’t even bad at all. Phew.
But this now posed a new problem. She wanted to come back together.
But did he want that??
“Vera…I don’t know…the reasons why I broke up with you are still very valid.”
“And the reasons why I fell in love with you are still very valid too. And to be completely honest, I was angry at first, but in the last few months, I realised that you’ve been the only constant part of my life. Even when we weren’t dating. You were always there.” As she said that, there was a mantra going off in her head.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
But it was getting hard not to cry.
“Vera are you listening to yourself?? How can you be happy with me when I’m not happy with myself?? I have issues I’m dealing with that you don’t know about. I don’t want you to be the person that I offload everything on. That would be very unfair to you.”
“But we can sort through them together! I can be there for everything. I’ll take it, I promise. I’ll be patient and understanding, I’ll do everything. Why do you always insist on going through everything by yourself?? You can’t always be independent of everybody. It’s okay to need help. Please. Let me help. Please.”
The mantra was useless now.
“I’m sorry V, I really am”
There was really no point in pleading with him.
“It’s okay. Be the guy that eats himself up with the need to do everything by himself. you and your toxic masculinity. Mr Independent.
You’re being selfish by putting yourself before us, but I’m the same too. Selfishly wanting you to myself despite all your issues.
I hope your demons go to rest, I hope you pull this off, I hope you stay happy. cheers to the bright future that is not here yet.”
And she turned and left. Sniffing and wiping tears with the back of her hand and just walking till she got home.
As for him however, he just sat there. He didn’t move an inch after she left. He couldn’t even talk or think properly. it was just him and his troubled mind.
Eventually, he went to sleep thinking about everything he had and hadn’t done and he concluded that she was right after all. Maybe it was time to deal with his toxic masculinity.
Or maybe not.