Toto Series: MY LANDLADY

Toto Series - That's your problem

Do you have a girlfriend?

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. If you are going to be living under my roof, you must abide by my rules and that includes no girlfriends.”

“In 2021? I can’t have a girlfriend come to visit me in the house that I am paying for.?”

“Those are my rules, you can either take it or leave it.”

This is 2021. I always thought it was women who had a hard time finding an apartment if they were not attached to a man. Here I was, after roaming through several locations closer to campus and finally finding the one apartment that fits my needs and my landlady abi would be landlady is telling me that part of her rules is not having girls visiting me and lights out is by 10:00pm.

“I leave it ma. I have a girlfriend. Maybe I should move in with her and save this money for better things.

“Ehen? Until she reminds you who’s house it is, then you would understand the value of having your own house.’

"I know that. But what value is the house if she can't come and cook a pot of soup for me or keep me warm now that this weather don gets as e be? Mama, you sef check am out. You be family woman. You suppose know-how e dey be.

“Hmmmmmm. Okay. If you promise say na one girl only. I be family woman and I get small children na why I dey put all these rules. I no want make una come spoil my children for me biko.”

“Mama, I be your boy. Take me as one of your children too. As you see me so, na one babe I get. One babe pere.”

And that was how I began living in Madam Gladys’ house. She was a tall well-built woman with bleached out features. I believe she used to be a fine young woman. I guess running a beer parlour and having a retired soldier who serves as the area drunk as a husband does wonders to the beauty of old. What she lacked in physical beauty she more than made up in attitude. Madam Gladys’ was kind and welcoming and never missed an opportunity to gift. It did not matter if she had 10,0000 naira or a stick of carrots. If you met her on the highway or in her tavern, she always had something to give away.

The first time Halima- my girlfriend came to visit, Madam Gladys brought a pot of Banga soup she had just finished preparing. We had exchanged pleasantries and I introduced Halima to her as my girlfriend.

“Ah! Awwal, you have brought a woman to this house?”

“Mama, She is the one I told you about. This is my Halima.”

"Wow. And she is so beautiful. Halima, welcome fa. Awwal has told me so much about you that I feel like we are sisters. If you don't mind, I brought this soup for him. I made enough so that the single people here can have some homemade meals." Of course, Halima did not object even though I knew there was hell to pay when Gladys left. I had told her of my first encounter with my landlady but did not furnish her with the details of how we had gotten close. I did not mention that I now tutored her children in Chemistry and Math. I did not also mention that she allowed me a free beer and a plate of pepper soup every Friday evening. Halima can read meaning into everything and I did not want a situation where if I told her she would tell me to stop.

“Awwal, I know when a woman wants something and she clearly does. How come men are so blind to the obvious.”

Halima had waited until late in the evening. When I had carefully undressed her. She was in my bed with my mouth over her breasts when she decided now was the time to talk about my landlady. I ignored her and tried to salvage the mood but she was hell-bent on ruining it.

“Awwal, ina maka magana ama don nema’n gindi baka ansa ni bako?

“Hmmmmmmmm. Kin san kowai in na kale ki pharpadia na ka ma ni. Tabas ke maiya chi.”

“I am serious. What does she want from you?”

“I am serious about the way your skin feels tonight. Please Halima, I have missed you, did you not miss me too?”

I recaptured her knob sized nipples with my lips. Halima was like those girls who did not want foreplay too much less they showed pleasure. She also did not show pleasure even when she orgasmed. She would then wake up in the morning and act like I had condemned her soul to hell. It was a routine I was used to, but I still went out of my way to see her squirm. To have her hold on to the bedsheets or in some cases, latch on to my back so tight, it left welts. I remember the first day I convinced her to give her head. We had spoken about it for close to a month. I had given her enough time to talk about it with her friends and to read about it. I came over after classes and we hung out with her friends until six PM. I excused myself and bid her friends' goodnight. By 9pm she called me to come back. Even though it was 202certain things remained the same. Even though we had sex, and spent the night in each others' rooms, we needed to be undercover.

I smelt the incense, thick and potent in the air when I arrived. She offered me kunun aya and bananas and she smelt of Umra. I drank the kunun aya and ate the bananas she offered. She was wearing her silk robe- the one she wore when she was crazy horny or we were fighting and she wanted to make amends.

I stood up and went to the loo, there, I drank a potion of the honey mixture Tijanni swore would make my tongue turn to Zuma. I had never given a woman head before. I don't know why I had asked Halima sef. Before now, It was almost taboo for a man to give a woman head. But my guys always talk about how their women are dicmatized and can't leave them because of how well them sabi eat their girls out. I decided to also eat Halima out so that she will never leave me.

I came out of the bathroom and she was in the kitchen clearing the dishes. The lights in the room were switched off. I took off all my clothes except for my boxers and went to her. I held her from the back and kissed her neck. She giggled and protested but did not push me away. My hands roamed her body and it registered she was not wearing anything underneath the robe. Shege Halima, she was looking forward to tonight as much as I was.  I guided her to the bed but she insisted that whatever it was we would do needed a soundtrack. She was a romantic so she played some Hausa guy who sang about the loneliness of having to live without his second wife.

I lead her back to the bed and guided her to lie while I knelt down on the edge. She was so nervous, I felt her shakes even before I touched her.

“Halima, I am not going to hurt you. Please don’t fight me.”

"I trust you Awwal. This is new for me, that is all. But I trust you."

I knelt between her legs and hoped that Tijanni was right. I looked at her spread before me and wondered if I made the right choice. What if I was no good? What if Tijanni was wrong and she did not like it and she never spoke to me ever again? I darted my tongue and tasted of her woman. I had watched enough you-tube tutorials so I let that guide me. In no time, I was holding her thighs and following her prompting. That night I learnt two things. Halima loved head, and she was loud.

After that night, she would insist I give her head before we sexed. I watched too many videos and drank so much honey I was more than confident that she would never leave me.

One Friday evening, I was gisting with my landlady and I mentioned how Halima couldn't have enough of my tongue. It was not my fault really, I had drunk two bottles of smooth that night and it had given me a certain level of invincibility. my landlady listened with such attentiveness I think it was not much my story but how it made her feel.

After that day, I  noticed she became even more friendly. Sometimes she will come to my door as early as 5 am. She would look me over then leave. No word said.

“You sure say you sabi do all these things you dey talk so?”

"Mama, na your boy ooo. I go tell you wetin no pure?"

She had resorted to giving me two bottles of beer and a plate of whatever pepper soup I wanted. Isi ewu, Fish, intestine or cow tail. She would ask me about my week but was only interested in the parts with Halima and more importantly, the parts that included me and Halima getting down. I knew that and I made sure she was happy every Friday. It did not matter that I and Halima had been fighting for weeks over the pot of banger soup she had brought over. Or how she had come the morning after by 5am to invite us for devotion. It did not matter that we were of different faiths and did not attend devotions. Halima kept eyeing her the whole time how she spent preaching about the sin of fornication. No, I always told her how we fucked in empty classes and dark staircases in school. I painted beautiful pictures of how we would then go to her house and I would watch her remove her clothes one after the other. On the occasions I was feeling really in the mood, I would tell her how Halima would take me in her mouth real slow. Tasting the textures and feeling the corners of my dick as she gave me head. Halima had also learnt how to swallow and on the days we had quickies in dark staircases, she would just at the right time, turn and envelope me inside her wet warm mouth and draw out my fluids.

On one of such Fridays, she asked me to wait for her till closing time. She offered me my usual but I declined. I did not want to be intoxicated while I prepared Halima's Surprise party the next day. Everything was set but I still did not want to miss any details. Halima had always wanted her 22nd birthday to be grand and I wanted to deliver.

“Wetin you just dey do for your phone since eh”

"Na school work o" I lied. I knew she did not like Halima and she looked stressed already."Come help me small na, abi you no see say na only me dey shop today?" I agreed and plugged my phone to charge.  By the time she closed by 10pm instead of midnight, I was exhausted and grateful.

She invited me to her house but we went through the back. She said she did not want to wake her children up and when her husband was not around like today, she usually went through the back. I followed her in the dark as she unpacked what she brought. I listened to her move about as she told me about her family and how she never knew she would ever work in a joint again after she watched her mother do things when she owned her own joint.

I am sure she must have guessed I wasn't listening so she went quiet. After a moment, the lights came on to reveal my landlady in a thong.


“Please don't call me that. Call me Lizzy. I no be your mama.”

She was always in boubous so I felt she was overweight or had so many folds. But the woman standing in front of me was stunning. Her breasts laid bare before I was still perky even after three children. Her stomach was fleshy but did not look out of place in contrast to her hips and ass. And boy did she have an ass for days. I could not help it. I stared at her as she stood in the doorway to her kitchen.

“You fit handle me?”


I walked to where she stood and stared.

“You go stand dey look ni abi you go begin work?”

I buried my face in her ample bosom. She held my face to her chest while took deep breaths. She smelt of cheap cologne and firewood. Her skin felt like satin; smooth and slippery as I rolled her hands over her buttocks.

"Biko, leave that one bia rie ọtụ m". She moved to the dining table pushed to the corner of the kitchen and held her large food coolers. She removed the thong and climbed on it. The table creaked and dipped dangerously but did not give way. How was she able to arch this way?

I went to work as she ordered. How do I begin to describe how she tasted? My hands could not go round her to keep her from wiggling but I did not mind because her movements gingered me on. She tasted like spices mixed in honey with a drink of palm wine to top it off. She began to speak incoherently and I intensified what I was doing.

I climbed onto the table and said a silent prayer it will not cave in. It didn't. If her skin felt like rich satin her pussy was even richer! Her juices rushed to invite me into her perfect moulds. I dug in and did not want to pull out. I was overtaken by jinn. It was like she was sucking my spirit through my dick and with each thrust I was nearer to be enslaved. I thrust deeper, faster, wilder till I erupted and fell unto her cushion-like arse.

"Ah! You no lie oooo. See as I just dey cum anyhow ooo. Omo! You sabi fuck die!"

“Mama, I be your boy ooo”

“I no teh you make you stop dey call me mama?”

We heard a crash dowsers.

She jumped down and switched off the lights and commanded me to stay put and stay silent.

I listened as the door in the front opened and her husband walked in. His unsteady steps grew louder as he got nearer. I hoped he could not hear the pounding of my heart from where ever he was.

“You don bring another one?”

His voice was without emotion. Flat and deflated. We both remained silent. He struck a match and raised it to his lips. The yellow glow from the match stick cast an eerie glow revealing parts of his face. Not enough to show the whole face, just fragments that did not look completely human. His eyes were bloodshot and blank. He took a deep drag and the house was back in darkness except for the red glow from his cigarette.

"You tell am say you go suck him glory, make am as useless like me and all the others? Abi this one no know?" He took a few drunken steps forward but did not enter the kitchen. I held my breath and covered my now very shrunken penis. What did he mean by sucking my glory?

He staggered off and the kitchen was now completely dark.

Was that what happened to him? There was gist on the streets that she was involved in some diabolical stuff but there was nothing about her that seemed true. How could her husband know that there was a man in her kitchen who had probably fucked her and not care? His comments were more a warning to me than accusatory towards her. Was Halima right after all and my landlady had seen something in me that she wanted? Was it physical? Or was it more diabolical.?

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Toto Series: Undiluted Worship Pt. 2

by, published 2 years, 4 months ago

Undiluted worship shitoto series konji

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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Toto Series: Vibes and Insha Allah

by, published 2 years, 6 months 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?

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