Suddenly, Rachel felt extremely shy… It’s not like they hadn’t done this before, but this time it would be different, she just knew it. This time, it’d be more intimate, more of a promise, more forever. So she let the hotel bath robe fall to the floor, then slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat because he was strikingly handsome in this moment. His boyish face filled with a kind of intent expectancy. Plus, the eager I-will-chop-you-raw look in his eyes right now made him so darn hot!
He raised a hand and casually, confidently waved his fingers, beckoning her closer. She took a few unsteady steps and came to a halt right in front of him. Ross was already ready, in every sense of the word. He was naked and damp from his shower, his D at half mast, in honour of the bountiful goodness of the land awaiting his pillaging. He reached up and cupped her left breast, moulding it gently in his palm, his thumb and forefinger rubbing on her nipple like it was a magic lamp. Her lips parted in acknowledgement of his ace move, her right arm reaching out to tweak his right nipple, the sensitive one. He pulled her down and kissed her on the lips, a kiss that wrought out a ragged moan from him. A kiss that took her years back, to that first breathless kiss all those years ago. Yet here they were, still eager, still knowing how this would end yet nervous nonetheless.


Holding his gaze, she firmly pushed him back on the bed, then dropped to her knees between his legs. Her smile was one of wicked enjoyment when she saw the dewy drop of precum spilling out of him. Using only her eyes to touch him, she lowered her mouth fractionally until she swallowed him into her mouth. The groan he let out was tortured; pleasure, impatience, the need for more, and a desire to make this last. She wondered if it made her a sadist, the fact that she enjoyed toying with him this much. His next move was unexpected.
She had her eyes closed, and her tongue languidly stoking the length and width of him when he sat up, grabbed her by the waist, turned her around and lay back down. The implication was, while she continued molesting him orally, he could now do the same to her. It was an evil plan because now she couldn’t keep still and interrupted her ministrations frequently to scream out. She was almost sure she felt his lips against her lower lips, curling into a smile whenever she screamed.

Rachel was soggy as a dish rag and quite frankly needed more, so she flipped around until she was straddling him and looking into his eyes. Those eyes that had done everything imaginable to her. Eyes that had stripped her naked, flashed with anger, crinkled with laughter, widened in appreciation, latched on in serious attention, rolled in exasperation and winked in a shared joke countless times. Those eyes closed momentarily now as she lowered her wetness around his thickness, sloooowly, until there was no more of him that wasn’t inside of her. He opened his eyes and chewed on his lower lip, his hands on her hips guiding her up and off, then pulling her sharply back onto him.
She rode him slowly, her body tilted back, eyes closed and hands cupping her breasts as she bounced up and down. He hugged her to himself, then rolled her over until he was on top and her legs were wrapped around his waist. He stroked her hair and caressed her face as he drove into her gently, whispering any and everything that came to mind. His heart rate quickened when her breathing became more and more ragged, then peaked in an uncultured shriek. Her body froze, eyes closed, mouth open, he felt the heat of the liquid coming out of her and he lost it then. He exchanged his gentle strokes for rough, hard, irregular ones, and soon he too had his eyes closed and animal growling mode on fleek.
He rolled onto his back to allow her rest on his chest, the light from the open bathroom glinting softly off their matching silver wedding rings.





How to be a Nigerian Christian

This is a crash course, so I’ll just run you through the salient points.
First of all, nothing bad is ever meant to happen to you. Anything bad that does happen is the work of your enemies, and everyone knows that enemies will die by fire.
Oh, I missed this one. Everyone has enemies whose only focus is to cause sickness, accidents and general bad luck.
Every single human being is a Joseph; every dream you have is symbolic of something and must be interpreted to reveal the goings on in the spiritual realm.
The only way to go to heaven is to attend as many church programs as possible, invite as many (Christian) guests as possible, and pray loudly in tongues real or imagined.
Actual evangelism to pagans and non-Christians is not as important.
Sometimes I wonder if God looks down and feels sad; when did His people get it so wrong?
You can’t enjoy watching horror movies; they are demonic and will initiate you into the occult without your knowledge.
Those who act horror movies become possessed afterwards, and need special prayers.
Every unmarried girl who “delays” before settling down has a slew of marine spirit husbands who are jealous of all the men who come close to her.
Every attractive woman is possessed by the spirit of seduction.
Every fucking thing is a spirit. Spirit of poverty (especially when you do nothing to earn a living), spirit of lust (it is unnatural to just feel horny; biology is not recognized), spirit of anger (even when you have been wronged, and anger is a natural human reaction), spirit of privacy (I’ve been told my not allowing people (men) visit/call me whenever they want is a spirit), etc.
Apparently, just living a quiet life of struggling daily to be a better person, not complaining about problems, gently going to church a few times a week, and being kind to everyone around you will NOT get you into the Nigerian heaven.
Go big, or go home.
Be ostentatious or your salvation will not come to you, and you will burn eternally in hell.
The Nigerian hell, which is just like our prisons; overcrowded, disorganized, mismanaged, and crawling with people doing time for crimes they did not commit.



February-Love Giveaway!!!

Alright, so some of you have probably been waiting for this with bated breath because, free things. As I said earlier, I’ll be giving 5 people N1,000 airtime each  absolutely free (kinda)!!! All you have to do is answer the question I have for you in the comments section, and my friend Johnny Q will pick out the 5 most interesting answers, and voilà! N1,000 airtime is yours. To all of those who were all over twitter on Saturday griping about how boring Valentine’s day really is, pele. And if you stayed home all day Saturday only for that “special” someone to take you out yesterday,


But don’t feel bad, because


We’re starting from the borrom, bhet we wee get dia someday! :D

Oh, did I mention? You have from now till 8pm to post your comments, and only comments posted before then will be considered.
Your time starts now.

What does love mean to you?



Of Mandibles and Other Romantic Things

So I went out with someone this week.
Let me make it clear, please.
It was not a date.
It was NOT a date.
It was not a DATE.
He brought up the idea of us hanging out and I said Ok because, meat. Quite frankly, you can kidnap me with meat. Or is it still kidnap if I willingly hop into the car with you, clutching the container of yummy saliva-wave inducing dead animal… I think my ability to hear or focus is hindered drastically when I’m eating meat that I really enjoy. But that theory has not been proved.
Continue reading


Saturday Is Wedding Day

Saturday is wedding day.

In other parts of the world(I assume), Saturdays are for resting, catching up on personal projects, meeting up with friends and family, or simply recovering from the previous night’s hangover.
In Nigeria, Saturdays are for weddings. Washing clothes and attending weddings. I hate both.
I mean, it’s like someone blows a trumpet somewhere and all of a sudden everyone is rushing out with buckets and heaps of dirty clothes. Younger siblings are sent to the neighbourhood shop to buy washing soap and Ariel N15, while one sister is somewhere inside frying akara or chips or eggs for breakfast. So, washing done, breakfast consumed, out come the outfits selected for the day, to be ironed while NEPA is happy.
Then the strategies come out. How many people are going to the same wedding, so they can ride together. Is there more than one wedding that day? Which one deserves a church attendance, and which holds the promise of a more interesting reception. And so on.
Honestly I don’t get the fascination.
In all my years on earth, I can recall about 7 weddings I’ve attended. And most of them were my siblings’, so attendance was kind of mandatory by blood or something.
If I were still living at home, my mom and I would have our Saturday wedding conversation, something like this:
Mum: Ehen, Mrs. So-and-so’s son is getting married today, shey you will come with me?
Me: Nooooo Mummy.
Mum: *genuinely puzzled. Every single time* Ah-ahn, why naw?
Me: I don’t want to go.
Mum: But are you going somewhere else?
Me: No, I’ll be at home.
Mum: Let’s go, so you can see what is happening, see how people are doing things.
Me: *laughing in a blushy way, this woman is so funny*
Mum: So you will know how to do your own too…
Me: *ah. There it is*
Mum: …and so people can also attend yours.
Me: But I don’t want people to attend mine!
Mum: Don’t say so!
This usually goes on till she gets dressed and leaves me to breathe a deep sigh of relief. Then when she gets back, I am regaled with stories of how the hall was decorated and “how people are doing things now”.
To be honest, it’s all just a big show for strangers and the bride. It is unnecessary expense and too much tension for just one day. It’s a social competition. Sometimes it’s the thing a narcissistic couple will do to have all eyes on them, at least just once, before they move on to the drudgery of everyday life…
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against marriage itself. I just hate weddings.
The only redeeming aspect of weddings is the after party!!! Two of my siblings did this and I simply CANNOT, for the life of me, understand why more people don’t have them :s
Anyways, that’s just my small, wobbly take on this. Go forth and enjoy the day’s wedding lineup.




Keeping Your BFF


Here are some tips about best friends I wrote down a while ago:

-Keep the amebo flowing. Gossip is the grease that oils the cogs of the world. It is not to be underestimated.
– Though distance separates you, communication is key.
– When you deliver your gist, be sure to make it media-rich. Include images, web links, audio, video footage, bloody powerpoint slides if you can. Continue reading


Instant Flash: Bracelet

I am in a bus headed for Asaba. There’s a skinny fair guy sitting next to me who’s been making small talk with the third person at the back, an elderly lady. I’ve come to realize that my girlfriend lied; Asaba is apparently further away than the four hours she promised, and it’s in no way going to be a smooth ride, if the present rough road is anything to go by.
I’m trying to sleep to eat up the kilometres, but there is really nowhere to rest my head. I glance towards my skinny neighbour and access his profile. Glasses, very little facial hair. I quite suddenly want to grab his head and kiss him. It’s not my fault. I love to kiss but this single life won’t let me prosper…
Continue reading