With his itchy and picky fingers
to touch the right spots, wandering eyes to illuminate every pore of the hairy
brown and spotless skin and lecherous mind to ravish the poor and excited dame
who lay on his high density mattress waiting to be devoured, the world can go
take a hike in the Himalayas, a certain Asiedu can wear a corset and the
economy of Ghana can crumble into shambles and he doesn’t care.
It was their first time and they have both looked
forward to a time like this. A beginning
of a time that will transcend time itself; and a lingering memory thereof.
Time, so right like the Republicans, mood on point like a nipple and psyche, so
hyped and sustained to last as many bouts as they are willing to go.
If there was anything called love
at first sight, theirs would be one of the prototypes. The aura around them, so
entrusting that no word has yet been scrutinized nor subjected to an iota of
doubt. Suffice it to say, there were no trust issues. Love, so strong and
binding like an adhesive, erases all forms of abuse and hardships when one
falls in one. All he is preoccupied with is how to make her happy – maybe, just
make himself happy.
He inched closer and breathed
down her neck, exuding a warmth they will later talk about when this budding
hot and sizzling ménage a deux is done and over with. It was time to give this
whole tease a closure. A time to please.
With a renewed desire, he traces
her lobes with a couple of fingers, down her nape to the region of her turgid
and filled breasts. He cups the handful mound into his sizeable hand and slowly
tightens his grip until it did not make any more sense just because he could.
Just because he had to, so he can be sure it was really happening. He did
because he wanted to find out the boundaries of his limitations; how far he
could explore on before she asks him to stop or even asks him to intensify his
antics and her feelings thereof.
He props up and slips his other
hand up her thighs into the silky fabric of the lady and goes straight to her
triangle in-between which sends a tingling sensation through her. She further
entrusts herself into his bosom for more of his magical touches. Contrary to
the awkwardness she thought, she finds herself enjoying the moment, the intense
desire, his touches and fact that she feels fulfilled. To hell with those who
say life is not good.
For him, it is yet another moment
to revise his stance on the womenfolk. Somebody is about to rate women yet
again and he is cocksure of his feelings. He was sure it was love at work. He
did not even want to think that it was the cloud nine factors. His ego won’t
allow him to think in that vein even though the thought brought shame to his
face indicating a flash of truth. The bolting rush was so negating that his
surety just went limp in an instant, probably in the same manner it arose.
He went blank and with a sudden
uncontrollable contraction of his muscles, he squeezed the breasts tighter
which sent a painful spasm through her. She feels her body rip apart, opens her
eyes and dies emotionally from the look she saw on his face and fact that his
essential limb has suddenly gone limp.
Big deal?
Yeah! They say it casts a
daunting feeling on the psyche of women – gives them an impression of
undesirableness but this couldn’t be same. He loves her and she knows that. And whoever says sustaining a hard on for a
lady is the only way they can feel loved anyway. He was only fighting his
own devils. He was seeing things – reel of images that are so vivid as though
he was reliving them. All his escapades playing on a giant screen before his
eyes; in his mind, maybe.
He was even engulfed more with
the realization that his feelings for her won’t endure. He knew that too well
because this is how he felt towards Bomba, Annabel, Stella, Flora, Dzifa and
all the other ones before her. For once, he thought his feelings for her were
different and real but it was a lie; a façade.
Would he ever love?
*raps on the door*
The rap was so loud, untimely and
intruding that it made him cringe.
Is it death himself at the door?
As much as he would love to act
dumb to the raps on the door, he also needed some respite, coupled with the
fact that loud music was playing from the room, indicating that someone was inside,
so, he quickly wore his boxer shorts which he pulled from the pile of clothes
on the bed, musters courage and answers to the unending raps on the door.
“Who dat?” He asked like the boss
as he fidgets with the door only to find out it was a man and a woman clutching
bags in the hollow of their shoulders.
“Excuse me Sir, do you have some time to talk about Jesus Christ. We are from the Kingdom hall of
the Jehovah’s Witness”
The writer tweets @vilejah
