Archive | June, 2012

My First…

22 Jun

This one is dedicated to @Hardeyi Happy Belated Birthday Bro………. I know it’s coming in late but ‘Better Late than Never’ Right?? 😉 Hope you had fun though…. Enjoy 😉 😀

I’d been eyeing Chiamaka since the minute I set foot in that neighborhood, she was the only girl I “saw” in the area; it was love at first sight, but I wasn’t brave enough to walk up to her to tell her how I felt, I had to send her Elder brother who was a close friend to arrange a meeting. She walked into the eatery and time stood still, I watched in 3DHD as she walked down to my seat giving me a smile displaying a set of teeth that shone, I felt so proud of myself. As I stood up to play the ‘Perfect Gentleman’ , I suddenly felt a rumbling in my stomach signaling flatulence, and it would be a big one I envisaged; quickly I straightened up and removed her chair for her, settled her down into her seat and excused myself to use the men’s room. I silently cursed the pate of beans I ate the night before that threatened to thwart all my chances with her, as I technically ripped off the farts as soon as I was a safe distance away from her, or so I thought because by the time I got back from the toilet, I beheld a sight that was outrageously embarrassing. All the diners in the eatery were holding their hands to their nostrils, choking on their own breath as a result of my fart; as fate would have it, I was the only one coming out of the men’s room at that moment so all accusing fingers pointed at me. I tried to salvage what was left of my dignity by fanning the air with my hands and making choking sounds too but the effort was left to naught as a mischievous boy ran to my ass and smelt it proudly proclaiming loudly in the eatery “He Farted” (In conc Yoruba accent ‘Awon na Buso’ ). That was the proverbial needle that broke the camel’s back because Chiamaka stood up, walked towards me and gave me a resounding slap….!!!!!

Seyi! Seyi! I felt another slap on my face as my dream was mercifully cut short and I shouted out “I’m sorry now” “sorry about what!!!” My mother thundered, “Will you stand up now and go prepare for Church?” she continued. I sat up on the bed as I rubbed my cheek sorely dreading the rest of the morning as I was sure she would give me an earful for not waking up until she slapped me on the face which was the height of it. My Mum normally wakes us up in stages, and a Slap to the face is the final stage (In Mortal Kombat it’s called “FINISH HIM”); first she would call your name, knocking your door twice then give you like 2mins after which she comes into the room; second she would start slapping your leg softly for like 10secs, still calling your name. Stage four is when she starts getting annoyed, her voice is a little higher now calling your name in full “OluwaSeyii”, stretching the last syllable, if at this time you’re not up, your ass is gone because the next stage is a bowl of water on your face after which she rounds it all up with a resounding Slap, two in my own case. So as it stood, my pillow was already wet, and my head was pounding maybe as a result of the “Double combo” slap I got (Both from Chiamaka and my Mum) as I made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. I quickly went about my morning duties suffering a little from a pounding headache and a soliloquy from my Mum about the dangers of excessive sleeping and so on, until everyone in the house knew that I really overdid it this time; all of them throwing in their own anecdotes to buttress an already overstressed point. By the time we were ready for church though, it had all turned into a joke as everyone was in high spirits making fun of me and my sleep, of the fact that Mum had to go to such an extreme, mimicking Mum’s way of waking us up and other funny awkward moments at home.

As we made our way to church, I spotted Chiamaka leaving her house and I wished my Dad would drive faster so I could catch a glimpse of her face before she turned into the corner and maybe I would chance a wave at her. Though we caught up to her, my hand froze at the thought of waving at her lest she ignores or do something worse; but though the spirit was willing as they say, the flesh was just too weak. I silently watched on, too dazed to even smile, I kept looking straight at her. Service was in our headquarter church which was very far from our house that faithful Sabbath so we had to drive a longer distance, almost 30mins till we got to the church; as we entered the premises of church I spotted friends that we’d known each other since we were little kids but had not seen because our parents attended different churches. I quickly detached myself from family, and started “rolling” with my friends all over the church premises, catching up with one another and generally having fun.

Very soon we were predictably tired and bored of the program so the bravest of us (which I was one 😉 ) sneaked out of the church and made for surrounding shops, three guys, myself towering over the remaining two. 3 of us met at a youth camp for the church the year before and we’d been inseparable ever since; we were notorious for our blatant disregard for authority at the camp and our funny, snide comments at the programs, I had so much fun at the camp with I.K and Precious though they were both igbos, and I was the only Yoruba. We became like brothers (In Ghanaian accent). After walking to the market in the area, we were on our way back when we noticed a beer parlor by the road side, and seeing as we’d been walking since in the hot sun, IK suggested we cool off with some minerals at least. To my utmost surprise, IK ordered a bottle of Star, I couldn’t believe my eyes I’d never even been inside a beer parlor, not to talk of taking alcohol; He turned to me and asked what I would take but I was tongue tied, “I’m about to lose face in front of these guys sha” I thought “and na me tall pass, make me sef carry one jare” I concluded. “Same” I told him and Precious to my chagrin now settled for a bottle of Maltina, but the deed was done, the beer had to be drunk. After two bottles, and endless trips to the bathroom, we stood up and started on our way back to the church premises; I wasn’t feeling unusual so I felt proud of myself, saying “you’re now a man” repeatedly. We were wise enough to buy some Tom-Tom on our way back so it masked the stench that usually accompanies alcohol (I don’t think that works though) and soon enough we were done at Church. I started feeling a little tipsy by the time we had gone half the distance home, saying a whole lot of gibberish, laughing out loud at everything and anything, just generally making a fool of myself, but by the time we got home, it was a totally different story.

Thankfully, my parents had to go for a meeting so I came home with my elder siblings, who really had no idea what was happening though or they acted like they didn’t, acting normally like everything was okay. After I forced food down my throat, I went out of the house still very much tipsy and disoriented; I stumbled upon Emmanuel, Chiamaka’s younger brother and told him to go get Chiamaka that I wanted to talk to her. “You mean Bro Kelechi?” He inquired confused “Chiamaka” I emphasized “and run along joorr” I added as I climbed the short wall beside their gate, nodding my head to the “mysterious imaginary music” playing through my ears.

I heard the bang of the door inside the house, signaling that someone would soon be at the gate; I made as if to jump down but suddenly the ground looked too far away, like it was moving nearer and farther away every second. As I heard the rattle of the lock of the gate been drawn backwards, I quickly made a decision to jump, and to my surprise I found out that the ground was exactly below my feet thus making a total fool of myself as I jumped and tripped on my own feet, falling face down on the sand. The gate was already open by this time and as I quickly tried to stand up, I only succeeded in raising a cloud of dust over myself, tripping and falling several times; just as I found my footing and crouched to raise my head up, I couldn’t stomach it again as I vomited thoroughly at the feet of whoever it was that stepped out of the gate. The dust had not completely cleared all this while so I had no idea who was outside until I raised my head up after totally emptying my stomach at his/her feet, and clearing my throat, spitting out every drop of alcohol inside my system, to find out it was Chiamaka’s Father…..

 

PS: There are no sequels to this that’s why it’s long, so please don’t ask me; I have so many unfinished ones already and I don’t want to add to it.

Tights n Camisoles 1

11 Jun

I’m supposed to be writing the concluding part of “Aftermath”…………………. I know, but I just couldn’t resist the urge to post this after witnessing a couple of event this past weekend. Its not really a story per say….. But all the same Enjoy……………………… 😉

The first time I saw a “Tight”, I was between 5 & 9 years old (can’t say specifically), it was during one of the Olympic games on TV and I was fortunate to see it without been chased out of the room (which was the norm…). I noticed the way it grabbed the asses of the athletes, especially the female ones and I wondered why all of them looked so skinny, yet sexy in the ass. I couldn’t bring myself to check out the male athletes, their bodies were just rippling with muscles, taking all my childish attention & making me wonder to myself when I would develop those kind of muscles (I still don’t have them though X_X). The “Tight” really is tight, and it always brought a still unanswered question to my  mind “How on earth do men cope with Tights?” I’m not just talking about the way it looks on their body, but the fact that it cramps up anything and everything (If you know what I mean) it is important to note that the Penis and the sack needs a lot of breathing space, yet they choke them all up. Why can’t Men wear something “free-er” yet better in athletics than something that could have a negative long lasting effect on you. But this is not even why we are here; Now I’m 20something years old and the number of “Tights” I’ve seen in my lifetime is incredibly enormous; and I’m not even talking about the male variety, but the female one. Ladies have a way of making “Tights” look fashionably sexy, you almost forget that it is in actual fact a very annoying piece of clothing. I’ve seen “Tights” in my house, at my friends’ house, in the car, on a bike (Don’t even get me started on this one…), on the road, practically everywhere I go. The only question that comes to my mind for the ladies is “Why Tights?” They’re so ugly, so annoying and most importantly, a practical “P-Blocker: Trust Me If she’s wearing Tights under those skirts or Jeans, You sure as hell ain’t getting none, unless She really wants to……. I’ve been in so many awkward situations with “Tights” so much that I don’t just hate it, I Loathe it with passion. Its elasticity is practically beyond human comprehension, it arranges the flabbiest of thighs and make them look so good, until you remove it and all those “extra” chunks of fat spills on your hands. Ladies feel so comfortable in them, I just had to try one of them out (Just for the fun of it X_X) and trust me, it is not an experience I ever want to try again.

I pulled them on that fateful day, and went about my chores, seeing as I was the only one at home; by the time I was done, I was so tired I fell asleep in the living room, with the tights still on. I woke up to one of the most embarrassing moments of my life; I heard a persistent knocking on the gate and I quickly made a dash for the gate, forgetting that I had the tights on…… (Nuffsaid) I’m yet to convince some of my friends completely that I’m very straight and not Gay. As if that wasn’t enough, my penis was so fried, it looked totally like a new born baby’s and I had to take a very cold shower to at least bring it back to normal, practically pulling on it in the process. As a result of this, I have my own definition of tights as: a contraption designed to hide the truth in a woman’s bodice, and to keep out wandering hands (;-)). The minute I start making out with a girl and I feel the silkiness or whatever material the “Tights” come in, I automatically lose interest, regardless of what she does after that, it would take a very high stage of “Konji” or “Highness” to make me continue with her.

Let me quickly add here that another extremely annoying thing about “Tights” is the fact that Ladies tend to forget it is also an important part of their underwear, thus they tend to neglect it a lot; wearing it for days on end without so much as washing it or even repairing the “wear n tear”. They’re so comfortable strapping it on like that; Torn, smelly, dirty, wool sticking out of several places, e.t.c. Some have holes in strategic places that make you wonder how exactly they got torn in such sensitive areas but any direct question to that effect would automatically label you an “Enemy for Life”, and note that such a question would also place you in the Friend Zone till eternity. (There are some questions you must never ask a lady if you know you want to get down with her….)

After all is said and done, let me just add that just because I loathe tights don’t necessarily mean I don’t like the way it “arranges” and “packages” the way a girl looks; it always make their asses firmer, so if she walks by and she’s well endowed in that region, you have no choice but to notice, even if you don’t want to. I love a Girl who knows what’s good for her, what makes her look good and does it, puts it on; but I just want to say that I wish there was an alternative to “Tights”.

PS: Let me know what you feel about “Tights” as they call it, feel free to add your own reasons and all……. 😉 😀

………. To Be Continued………….

 

Aftermath

6 Jun

*Its been a while yet again…………… I know right……* Enjoy.. 😀

‘Akin’ ‘Akin’ I groaned out loud as I heard and recognized the voice of my landlord’s wife “Jane” I slipped my head under the covers, hoping against hope that she would leave, but that was not the case as she rang the doorbell and whispered my name yet again ‘Akin’, ‘Pls open the door for me’ I dragged myself out of bed, reached for my blanket and wrapped it round myself as I stood from my bed and made for the door, picking up the pieces of clothing strewn over the chairs in the living room. As I unlocked the door, she rushed into my arms, knocking me off my feet and into the nearest sofa; I quickly prepared myself for an awkward sitting arrangement, partly caused by my early morning erection and the fact that I was completely naked beneath the blanket. I succeeded in placing her just above my penis, on my stomach though I was sure she would still feel it on her, it was better that if she sat completely on it.

Tears streamed down her face as we sat there on the sofa; all my efforts to placate her proved abortive, after a while she said amidst sobs “He’s…. at.. it again….”, by “He” I knew she was talking about her husband, my Landlord; He has this habit of spanking his wife on the ass like a child every time they just had sex, He calls it “Atoning for Mortal Sin/Sin of the Flesh”. No matter how wonderful the sex was they would undergo this weird ritual, at first I assumed the screams I usually heard late at night was from the Sex,  especially since whenever I saw “Jane” my landlord’s wife the next morning, she wouldn’t be able to look me in the eyes, she was always embarrassed and would quickly scurry off. It wasn’t until we became close after I had an unsavory incident with her husband that I found out what really was happening, and this had been going for the past 5years of their marriage. I held her closer to me, and crooned in her ears continuously, “It’s ok, It’s alright, He can’t hurt you now”; I knew that her husband had crossed the line this time, there was no way I was going to take this lying low, although it’s really none of my business, I just couldn’t stand by and watch the man destroy such a beautiful woman’s self esteem. I purposed in my heart to have a heart-to-heart, man-to-man conversation with him immediately he got back from work that day, although the abuse had been on for a while, this was the first time Jane would run to my apartment crying, so I imagined He really overdid it.

After long, torturous minutes of holding and rocking her back and forth, I succeeded in calming Jane down and sh scooted to the side a little to make way for the discomfort she had been causing me since we landed on the chair; I quickly excused myself to relieve myself as I had been badly pressed before she rushed in, but there was no way I could leave her in the state she was in when she came in. I forced myself to be done in half the time I usually took in taking my morning Piss, causing some strain on my Penis; I quickly made a little detour into my bedroom to put on a pair of boxers beneath my cover cloth and returned to the living room to find her sprawled on the three-seater face down. As she heard me walk in, she called out gently “Can you help me rub some salve on it? It hurts”…. I went back into my room, picked up a bottle of balm and went back into the living room; my heart beat increased rapidly as I understood the gravity of what I was about to do, “Massage my Landlord’s wife’s Ass” “Me? A full grown Man, with blood pumping through my veins??…..”

Just as I dipped my fingers into the balm to apply it to her ass, Her husband barged in screaming her name…….

 

……………. To BE Continued……………. :D:D

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