Let's make love
"Let's make love" she said.
"What?" I had retorted with incredulity. The type that shows in the face and you can't hide it.
"I don't like how you have been fucking me. And before you ask, I feel like an ashawo. The ignorant type at that, the one who doesn't even have the decadence to collect money immediately after the act like how the girls at West of Mines do. You pound me, and I feel it's done only for you to cum, and you don't even end up cumming. Must be some masochist thing, because I don't understand all this suffering we are doing and calling it sex. You leave me sore every time, and call me when you are bored. I can't do that anymore."
Man's ignorance is legendary, but you see when you pair ignorance and sex, men tend to rise above that base instinct and reach a level hitherto unknown even to them. It's a rare thing when a man takes criticism without pants about his performance in the affairs of him and his willy, it's even more rare when the criticism smacks of erudite elegance.
I tried to think of words, acts, reactions, but I laid their partly limp, with little bouts of blood rushing to my willy, reminding me that she didn't call me a "1 minute man" but I felt worse. It was like I was a pig with a diamond ring but with no appreciation for the value of what I had. The only way to ease my mind, to stop it from tearing itself to bits analyzing her words in context and making new things with the scrap was to ask. There is no harm in learning a little, we should not have to relearn every skill in each generation. So I asked. "How do you want us to make love?"
With her winsome bright eyes and innocence to the quagmire she had wrought to my brain, she described scene after scene with particular attention to certain spots she liked been touched at. Snuggling deeper into the curvature of my body, she nestled and continued drawing my active mind to more scenes than I had read from the kamasutra. Where do they learn all these things!! My earlier befuddlement had cleared at the sound of her voice describing things.
If anyone had seen us at that point in time, I'd have said we were practicing subintroductae. Except, she wasn't a virgin and I wasn't an old priest who had sworn chastity upon himself.
"Is that what it means to make love?" I asked, it hit me right there that I was getting dumber despite all the info I'd been given. I couldn't take back that stupid, so I just laid and watched as she slowly rolled and looked into my eyes.
"I want to see the brown in your eyes when we make love. I want you to go gentle and think of me when going down, I want to swallow you and swallow all that comes from you, I desire that you taste me and savor the taste of my inner being. It will please me if you remember the shape of my body, and the color of my skin. I have imprinted your birthmark in the inner reaches of my mind and I see them in the shape of the clouds. If you find my birthmark, I will show you more on how to love me".
If this was an initiation, I done go oh guys. This must be how men end up buying mansions in Maitama for their small chops while madam is in Tudun Wada, tending the family.
My mind didn't race, it imagined briskly, then decided to try it. Ugliness was the chance to make beautiful. She had somehow bypassed all my learning and impacted in me fresh insight distilled in one sentence and taught in the most beautiful way ever.
Gone were all my past definitions of sex, like long lasting, big and deep throated screams that I passed off to be moans of ecstasy. I wanted to try what I had just learnt.
"Calm down", she said. As she made me drink from my cup, while my restless fingers glided over the flat of her tummy, counting the translucent beads that warped around her waist.
Practicing new knowledge can be tricky. Is it too early to add your own variations? Are you doing it right? Will you see immediate results? I ate all the knowledge she had shared with me and I altered some to fit my randy dreams.
The kiss before was manageable, with my new twist, I found her longing for more as my tongue found hers and licked it. New found knowledge is dangerous!
She had a preference for her boobs so I sucked on it like a toddler finding breath for the first time. I nibbled on her nipples and she gasped, then I nibbled again on the mounds of boobs and she held my head in between them. My tongue traced the fine stretch mark that had coursed a path down, "interesting", as I began to scan for the birthmark.
She had found willy, and while I kissed her boobs, she was touching them in a way that it had never been touched. I know how willy feels like, the veins that protrude to give it life, I know how it bulges with excitement when it's in the hands of another, and how it swells when it's in someone's lips. I don't know what willy is doing now. It's like halfway between a bulge and a swell. Throbbing with vigor and anticipation.
I had to repay this favour. As I tasted her down below, she tasted like cream with a touch of something exotic. I licked the upper lips and kissed the lower lips. Then flicked my tongue side ways, feeling the hypnic jerk kicking and begging for more. Oh was I just getting started. I did that, then I did what she said and watched her hold my head in place with her knees and her hands. A couple of more minutes and she dragged me up to her. I had on my face of satisfaction.
She rubbed willy against her outer defences, i saw the satisfied look in her bright brown eyes looking into my eyes. There was something sinister in that look. Teasing me. Playing with me. Forcing me to learn patience. Teaching me virtues I have never needed to learn. Woh! Just kill me already.
Five minutes later and what felt like 10 pumps staring into her eyes, we sighed in harmony. Me collapsing on her and sleeping almost immediately, she stroking me endlessly with a look that is now in my head.
That was my first love making experience. Five years later I've not replicated the deed. What type of person would I be if I never practiced what i was taught? There's beauty in the world even though we refuse to see it. I knew her in her own terms, the way she demanded to be known, from the inside first.
by Shitoto.com, published 4 months, 1 week ago
I was still spread out for his viewing pleasure when a thought crossed my mind. We had talked before about the things we would like to do when we eventually meet. Of course at that time I didn't think our meeting was ever going to happen so I painted quite the picture of an explorer, to match him. Even though he was miles a way and there was no chance of us meeting, what he thought of me somehow mattered to me. I closed my legs, did my best pirouette and walked to the door. His eyes followed me. First with surprise and as what I was about to do dawned on him, a sly smile crossed his face.
Here we were in their family compound in Ikeja Lagos state. His great grand mother on his father's side, a princess and last surviving matriarch at 93 had died. It was celebration of life and every member of the family was mandated to come and pay their last respects. There was more celebration than mourning but it was still death that brought everyone together.
I flew in from Kano the night he arrived Nigeria. He came to the airport to carry me himself. When I approached where he was he looked me over as if to to confirm if the pictures we had shared over time was indeed mine. He was also checking to make sure I had complied with his directives. Wear a black Burqa with nothing underneath. "When I see you, I want your nipples straining through the fabric. " I had protested that because of the heavy nature of the garment there is no way my nipples would show even if they were granite. He consented and said I should wear a gold laced black kaftan instead before cutting the call. That shit is transparent ! How can I walk about the airport like that, and in Kano no less ??? You see these Americanas eh ! It's like as soon as the leave the shores of this country and their innit and yo'mehn enters they forget what happens back home. I had watched all three parts of fifty shades of grey so I didn't argue before he would use me to learn work.
I decided to fly the 6:30 PM flight and hoped that it would be dark in Lagos. My prayers were answered. The flight didn't depart Kano until 8 PM and on arrival I quickly went to the bathroom and changed used a shawl to wrap myself until I walked to where he was. So when he looked me over I could see satisfaction. In the car, he ordered me to spread my legs which I did. He brought out a small satchel, like the type men use to keep clippers and all. Inside he brought out a bullet looking thing. It was purple and felt cold to the touch. He placed it on my clitoris and it began to vibrate. He moved it up and down... Up and down.... Up and down. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "open your eyes. We are in traffic, act normal." I looked at him in wonder. "do you care what people think or what ? " " I don't give a rats ass what they think, this is about me and you. If you make any sound, or close your eyes I'll stop, and you will pay for denying me my pleasure. And trust me, you don't want to make me mad. " I swallowed again. The words were said casually but I'd be a fool if I didn't believe every single word he spoke. I was tempted to tell him to stop there and then but I truly didn't want to get him mad. So I nodded and gestured for him to continue. The slight buzzing began and stimulation followed. I licked my lips and forced my eyes to stay open. I looked out at the other commuters, their faces partly obscured in the growing darkness. I tried to focus on the noise. Lagos go-slow is famous for the drama that always seems to happen. Yet somehow I didn't hear the blasting of horns and the expletives that always followed in Yoruba or pidgin. I didn't even feel the car's movements as his driver tried to maneuver through the chaos. He stopped and put back the gadget into his satchel and smiled at me. we are going to have so much fun you and me he beamed. We rode the rest of the journey in silence me in a puddle of my own making. That was yesterday night.
I walked over to his satchel and opened it. There were things I couldn't even describe inside, so I picked the one I was more familiar with. I have watched too many movies where handcuffs were used and since he is a fan of bondage I figured I could excite him enough to give me an orgasm. He was right behind me. Took the handcuffs and kissed my fingers. His eyes where ablaze. He led me to the closet and handcuffed my hands to one of the high cabinet handles. The feel of cold steel stole some of the warmth from my heart. He gently spread my legs, caressing my thighs, soothing me like a cat about to be put down. His satchel produced ropes he used to tie my legs each to a lower drawer on either side. I was spread wide and he stared in satisfaction.
Then he knelt under me.
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by Shitoto.com, published 5 months, 2 weeks ago
"Why won't you look into me when we fuck?"
I was buckling my shoes when I heard him from the bed. I heard the slight shake in his voice. He was trying to pass this off as casual talk after a very thoroughly satisfying session but I knew better. I wanted to tell him the truth. He was just a random dick I enjoyed now and then, nothing more.
Instead, I climbed into the bed, still wet from our latest session and kissed him deep in the mouth. I teased the insides of his mouth, while giving him soft bites on his full, soft-like-marshmallows lips. He sighed as if in resignation, and matched me tease for tease. I came up for air. Kunle, knew the assignment. When it came to my body's needs, he understood the assignment.
"You make it so. How can I control myself when you get me fucked up. Literally!"
His lips parted in a full smile and I mirrored his. No need hurting his feelings. I needed him to be happy. A happy dick is a more than capable dick. I made a mental note to send him extra money as my driver drove me out of his premises.
Kunle and I met at a Christmas food drive. I had sponsored the drive for 70 widows. On the 20th of December, I got a call from my assistant that some of the volunteers were a no show. That was how I drove to the venue in my jeans and Tees to lend a hand.
He looked at me and I guess he tried to asses my level of importance and judged I was just another volunteer in the ranks. I played along while he tried to school me on the art of volunteering. "you see this gig? Don't stress too much. Just show up and smile. You already have your looks and body working in your favor. After the whole event make an endearing post on social media. This one has been paid for by an annoynmous person which means you can take credit. You sha have to do it codedly, that way you don't get into trouble.
He was a pro. He made sure everybody was coordinated. He took pictures, gave lectures, cracked jokes, pep talks, the whole works. By the time we arrived the point of departure, I was worn out, but fond of him. He collected my number and promised to call. I didn't think much of it, but was happy when he did call.
I was going through a messy divorce that had me flying to and fro the US and Nigeria. His calls always served as salve to my frayed nerves. I knew I was a mark but I didn't care. I allowed myself to feel wanted again. To feel young and desirable.
After a truly nerve wrecking week, I called him. His number was switch off. I couldn't get a hold of him. I asked my assistant to find him and when she couldn't, I fired her. I entered my car by 11 pm and drove round town. I went to all his hangout spots - the ones he had told me about. He wasn't there either. It was like he had vanished. I finally summed up courage to drive to his place. He didn't know I had gotten someone to find out information about him. Since I was sure I was a mark, I needed to know who I was dealing with. Looking back at that faithful night as I headed for my 4pm appointment at the state secretariat building, it was sheer madness. Madness I tell you. I was behind the wheel looking like Cruella Davil with my hair disheveled and smudged makeup. I arrived his home and was grateful there was still lights on inside. I was at the door knocking. It was like I was being propelled beyond my will. Like a lightly puppet strung to a mad puppeteer. He opened the door and the look on his face should have sent me back into my car, to my house, into the earth and stay there. But the puppeteer wasn't quite finished with me. In a rush of words, tumbling over each other I told him to fuck me untill I lost my mind. "I don't think you need me for that. The loosing your mind part. Margaret, what are you doing here?" He looked up and down the street, I guess trying to make sense of what was going on. "Kunle, I need you to do all the things you said you would do to me when you catch me. And I need you to do it to me now." He led me into his apartment but the look of biwildment mixed with panic stuck on his rough face.
Even in the madness of the moment, I noticed the fresh breakouts and wondered what could have caused the violent redness scattered accros his face. Kunle at 26 had a smooth face like that of a teen pre puberty. I asked him for something hot and he got me coffee.
"Margaret, what is going on?"
I dropped the mug on the carpet and walked over to where he sat opposite me. I tried to remember how to be sexy. It felt like many lifetimes ago I was this way. Iman, my soon to be ex husband had been more than generous with his criticism of my body. I unzipped the bubu I was wearing and let it fall to the ground. "Kunle, I said I'm here to get fucked till I lose my mind."
That was four months ago.
The 4pm appointment would drag on till 10 pm. I had sent the driver home by 8pm together with the car. I hated to overstretch my workers and Fabian, my driver who had stuck with me even after his Oga, my now ex husband had left - had a 6 week old baby at home and needed to be with his wife.
By 10: 16 pm I stepped out of No 7 Tonga drive, adjacent to the state secretariat building, to a chill night. I adjusted my coat to ward off the cold and began walking down the streets. It was a beautiful night and I opted to walk instead of the offers to drop me off. Kunle said he was 12 minutes out. I figured that by the time I'd reached the intersection, by the overhead bridge, he'd be there. My heels as the hit the newly laid asphalt echoed in the quiet, causing a certain lull as I walked on.
"Kin kawo mana mai"
I spun at the voice so close behind me. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the face, but I saw four forms. I nodded to an inaudible greeting and continued walking down. I've experienced fear and intimidation most of my adult life. Growing up in a place like Jenta Adamu prepares you for the scum of the earth. I've faced intimidation in South Africa and the US. In business, in relationships, in life. I've always been a fighter.
"Na che kin kawo mana mai "? This voice belonged to a different speaker. His voice sounded hoarse and had a bite to it, unlike the first one. They had kept up the pace with me. I closed my eyes as the unwanted bubble rose to my throat. Fear. Living in Jenta felt so otherworldly, like a distant dream. A terribly bad dream. I kept walking, willing Kunle to appear. The cynical side of me still purred, hands akinbo to question "What are you expecting Kunle to do? He's only good for fuck. How is he going to help you now?"
"Ke" his hand touched my shoulder and I took off. I began to run but it was futile. In my new Guiseppe Zanotti sandals, it was difficult to run. And I couldn't fling them because of the buckles. One of the boys tackled me to the ground. He was over me, punching the back of my head, hard. The rest surrounded me. The one who tackled me, called Ahmed, used my newly installed wig to pull me back towards where I was coming from. The pain seared through me, as my face burned, and my hair ripped. Ahmed, taunted and cursed me in Hausa while the others laughed on.
"shegiya kowai. Kin fi ni gudu ko ? Ina kudi'n da su mazan chan sun baki da an gama chin ki?" "Za ki chi Ubanki, shegiya har kin sani gudu." He kept at it. Cursing me while pulling me down the road. Eventually, the wig ripped off and they all laughed as if on queue. He commanded me to stand. I couldn't. So I lay still. That earned me a kick in the ribs. I was incapable of wailing anymore. My tears, mingled with blood and sand flowed down my torn face. He commanded I stand again while one of them busied himself removing my jewelry, shoes, and other valuables. I braced myself for the assault I was sure was coming. It didn't come. I heard a thud, like a heavy sack falling, then footsteps receding. I didn't dare raise my head. I couldn't even if I wanted to. So I lay there expecting the worst.
"Margerate". It was Kunle. Relief washed over me and I suddenly found my voice. He lifted me like a rag doll, over his shoulder, in the dark and took me to his car. He dropped me gingerly in the back seat and made to close the door. I didn't mean to, but my fingers dug into him as I reached out to him. "don't leave me here" I managed to say through my sobbing. I was badly shaking. He needed to get the rest of my items he said. "Please don't go" I said over and over again untill he entered the car with me. He made a cryptic call then put the car into gear.
He took me to a private clinic inside Dong, away from scrutiny. I was examined, cleaned and stitched up. I had lost some blood and he was given a list of drugs and food items to place me on immidiately. No questions asked, no answers offered. On our way back, he stopped at around wild life park and turned off the engine. I'd been given a cocktail of drugs that had began to kick in, but somehow I could hear his phone conversation. There was a sentence that stuck. It was as loud as if he shouted it into my brain. "Leave that one, na me go kill am". I fought the blackness. What did he mean by that? Kunle... How ? Who do you want to kill Kunle?