Toto Series: SAME OL GAME

Toto Series - That's your problem

Same OL Game

The seeds of deceit were being planted and I was an active participant even though I did not know.

The first time he messaged me, I ignored him. He was not on my friends’ list, we didn’t have any mutuals, plus it was a random good morning beautiful. I didn’t even bother to open it. Three weeks later, he messaged me again. This time I went through his profile out of curiosity. His header was a beautiful poem from an unknown African author.

Herbs are not important to the one that only sees weeds.
Fires are dangerous to he who wills it only to burn
Love is never enough for the roaming eyes.

his profile picture was a picture of a man, woman and twin boys in matching outfits. It was a breathtakingly beautiful picture taken at an outdoor event. The woman had strikingly beautiful blue eyes with full wavy red hair that trapped the sun’s rays and came alive. There was a sweet innocence about her. The man- Damian was all smiles in his kente and shorts. His smile was broad but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was clearly well-read and well-travelled. He enjoyed talking about architecture and education. Whenever an argument ensued which seldom happened, he was never forceful or a gloater.

His message, the one that got my looking up posts of as far back as 2012 read “good morning Peace ( I hope I can call you Peace). I am Damian, a Ghanian happily married to Isabelle a Canadian and we are blessed with a set of twin boys. I work with the United Nations and I enjoy reading your thoughts here and I see we have quite a few things in common. Do you think we could be friends?

Sorry for my initial message I totally understand if you hold it against me.

I did not reply to the message but this time I opened it. Small progress. That evening he sent me a friend request together with another message.

Mr D: “Sorry, I know I am disturbing you( I feel like I am). I never get a hint from silent treatment so, please tell me to bug off and I promise to leave you be.”

Mr D: “I also sent you a friend request. Smiley face”

P: “hello Damian. Thank you for the introduction. How can I help you?”

I couldn’t help feeling put off. There was the good morning beautiful message that clearly did not fit with the innocence of the do you think we can be friends bit. Plus what kind of friends would we be? He didn’t need to be in the DM’s if it was as he put it or was I just overthinking this? Then there was the possibility that he could be a scam artist looking to score.

Mr D: “Ouch”

P: “???”

Mr D: “Well like I mentioned earlier, I just wish us to be friends. If that is too much for you, I can understand and leave you be. But know I wish you no harm”

P; “Okay”

Abeg some of these seemingly harmless friendships can end in please admin hide my identity. Before long I’d forgotten his face and all was well with the world.

My wellness was short-lived. One day he is an unknown social media user and the next minute he is everywhere. He is under my friend’s posts with funny witty replies, he is also under my posts but ensures he’s replying to those replying to me and never directed to me.

Our mutuals were now 210. un-fucking-believable. Yet somehow I had gotten used to seeing him on my timeline. Thankfully he wasn’t a nuisance so I didn’t bother.

A friend wanted to sell off a property in the highbrow area of Maitama. If I got a buyer in a week I could get 10% of the total sale. As soon as I posted the property I got a message from him

Mr D: “Hello is the property still on the market?

P: “Good afternoon. Yes, are you interested?

Mr D “Yes, can I see it?”

P: photos.

Mr D: ” I mean can I come to Maitama and see it myself?

P: Hold on let me confirm. When would you want to see it?

Mr D: I will be in Nigeria on the 5th of August. Let’s say the 9th.

P: “This is a distress sale so it is going on a first come first serve basis. but if you are looking for a property in Maitama I could hook you up.

Mr D: “then I’d take it.

P: Wouldn’t you want to see it first?

Mr D: “I like the pictures. It fits with what I am looking for. And at 550 million, it is a steal. The only issue is I would really love to carry out some damage assessment; so that work can commence soon.

P: “let me get back to you.”

On the one hand, 10% of 550 million was good money but on the other hand, if the house was a beautiful hollow shell or a haunted mansion or worst embroiled in some court wahala, could I afford to have my name mixed in such drama? Seeing that the house could easily go for .7 billion naira. after having an honest conversation with my friend I could confidently begin planning how to spend my 550 thousand naira.

P: “Good evening. You won’t need to do much repairs except if you are looking to remodel. This is actually a steal.”

Mr D: “Great. Just mail the papers to me at and we would proceed from there.

P: “Sounds good to me. Expect an email from”

And just like that, the deal was done. No back and forth, no jumping through hoops, no extra fanfare. He even sent an extra hundred thousand which according to him was for making the process easy for him. Damian is the kind of clients God should be sending abeg.

P: “Good evening to you. I wanted to ask if the house was to your liking. Any feedback you give is highly welcomed.”

I’d contemplated sending the message a million times and each time I rejected the idea. He said he would be in town from the 9th, but by 20th I had not heard from him. I messaged my friend and she said he had moved in already. For real? Well, the least he could do was let me know, right? On the 31st I drove past on my way to visit David’s lounge- fantasy and for whatever reason, I parked my car and watched maybe his nanny or relative drive the twins out the gate. I watched as she passed me oblivious to my existence with the boys screaming along to Phyno’s man of the year. Why was I bothered? Shey I should be happy that it was a clean deal and focus on getting more deals? So why couldn’t I shake off his silence? I shared same with David who looked at me like I had a spider on my face.

“When last did you get laid?”

What the hell Dave! How does this factor here please?”

I’m serious. Shey if you were getting good dick now you would have time to be worrying if some random stranger sends you a message or not.”

“You won’t understand. This was the same man who couldn’t leave my inbox and now all of a sudden is AWOL? Plus he is in Abuja, as in the same city with me ooo.

“Did you want him in the DM’s?

“No. But…”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

I wanted to argue further but I knew it would be futile. David would never understand. He was such a straightforward no assumptions guy. The waiter, a fine-looking man took my order while Dave excused himself. This was his baby. A lounge that was home to everyone looking to escape the insane Abuja hustle. A place of no judgements and knowing David, that’s exactly what he was offering. The lounge wasn’t officially open but he’d opened his doors to a few patrons sort of like a listening party to feel the pulse of what people actually want.

“Still looking at my waiter?”

“Well it is criminal that you put these fine men to serve sex-starved women such as myself”

“He’s gay tho. But hey! I’m here whenever you need serving”

“I’ve got your number. Might use it someday.”

On the drive back three hours later, I somehow found myself parked across from the street again. Must have been there for about 10 minutes before realizing how insane what I was doing was. How did I go from ignoring his DM”s to stalking his house? how??.

Mr D: “Good morning Peace, so sorry it has taken this long to get back. The move has been hectic. I am officially in your city!! perhaps when you are less busy you would show me around?

O no he didn’t. The move had been hectic? He had been in town for over a month and his excuse was the move? After he had left my message on read twice! I was pretty upset and didn’t know how to react so I didn’t respond. Let us all leave each other on read.

Mr D: “I sent you something for the weekend. I know how busy you have been lately. You can go to a spa or retail therapy.”

Mr D: “I hope you don’t mind. I know I should have asked first.”

I had seen the alert of 300 thousand from a Nexend corp. almost two hours ago. I had even contemplated going to the bank to find out the sender before EFCC would knock on my door saying I’m an accomplice to some crime I didn’t commit. 300k for a spa day or retail therapy just like that? I had still had not replied to his request to show him the city and truthfully I had been busy with my pet advocacy project as well as exams prep. Somehow he had been pushed to the back and now suddenly he was back. Why did he send me the money? Did he feel some type of way or was he trying to buy my good graces? But with 300k?

P: “Thank you. It was unexpected but I am grateful.”

I felt a little guilty about putting him on read but I couldn’t speak on that now that he had sent me money. Before he would think the money was persuasion. Since he didn’t reply, I returned to exam prep.

The weekend after my final papers he was back in the DM’s which wasn’t strange. I was in celebration mood so I decided to indulge him.

Mr D: “Congrats on your final paper. How are we celebrating?”

We? Must be speaking French.

P: “My friends and I are going to Ghana to celebrate.”

Mr D: ” Sounds like fun. Do you mind if I send you something for souvenirs? ”

Mr D: ” Don’t say no. I know you can handle yourself, just a little something okay?”

P: “ Thank you. I don’t mind.”

P: “The trip is for Tuesday, maybe we could hang out this weekend if you are free.”

Mr D: “I am out of town. Maybe when you come back from your trip. Is that cool?”

P: “ Sure.  But what took you out of town? Hope all is well?”

Mr D: “Yes and no. But don’t let me bore you. Congratulations once more.

P: “It is fine. I am here if you wish to talk.”

Mr D: “Maybe some other time. Good night.”

I got an alert of 700k from him 3 minutes later. Ghana would definitely be turnt. My coursemates and I had contributed to have a weekend trip to Ghana to celebrate 6 years spent for a 4-year course along with all the other “colourful” things found in a Nigerian tertiary institution. We figured having a final year dinner was not enough to wash away the trauma we had endured for the certificates we were not even sure of getting.

Ghana was amazing. We swam and danced and drank and did all we needed to do. Our motto was what happens in Ghana better not come back to Nigeria. By the time we arrived at the airport on the fifth day, we had experienced our version of a Vegas weekend. I sent Damian a message to thank him for making Ghana a truly enjoyable experience.

Mr D: ” Are you back yet?”

P: “Not yet. Our flight got delayed. Still at the airport.”

Mr D: “In Ghana or Nigeria?”

P: “ Ghana. We are at the Kumasi airport.”

Mr D: “Why? You should have gone to Accra instead. When is the next flight?

P: “ I honestly don’t know. We have been here for close to three hours.”

Mr D: “give me your number. I could arrange a private jet for you. How many of you are there?”

P: “We are six of us. 08030012877.

Mr D: “Got it.”

Courtesy of Damian my friends and I had our first private jet experience. We took pictures and drank all the champagne on board. By the time we arrived in Nigeria, I had become a mini-celebrity. It is not every day you get saved by a man with access to a private jet.

In Lagos, there was a limousine waiting for me with instructions to ferry me to the Lagos boat club. There I met Mr D. he was even more striking than in the pictures. He was large. I don’t know heights but he was way taller than me with broad shoulders and an almost invisible neck. He requested I waited for him to finish up his meetings then we would fly back to Abuja together. Did I wish to rest or go somewhere? I opted to rest and was driven to Westwood. His meetings lasted well into the evening so we couldn’t travel that night. He invited me for dinner at the restaurant but I could barely eat. Everything felt surreal. He told me his story. He was a pro basketballer who didn’t quite go pro because of a knee injury. He however had an eye for raw talent and became a scout. After a few years of doing that he decided to go back to school but ended up joining the military and became a member of an elite international squad. That was how he met his wife Isabelle.

He was generous with praising his wife. She was his anchor and had stuck with him through a tumultuous time and now that she had blessed him with twins he wanted to give her the best. We talked into the night. The next morning by 9 am he sent a message, he should be done with his meetings by 12 noon so he would book our flight for 5pm to factor in any other delays he may experience. The limousine was at my disposal to do with as I wished. I went to Balogun market and bought clothes to come and sell to my school friends and Facebook followers. I had an eye for great fashion pieces so picking clothes in vogue that will sell asap wasn’t a problem. By 3pm I was back in my hotel to freshen up and pack. I ordered for light lunch while I packed. By 4:45 pm I met up with him at the airport. He said he had a few more stops so I brought his luggage from his room.

In Abuja, he disappeared again. He had my number and I had finally accepted his friend request. I sent him a message to thank him for saving myself and my friends in Ghana but a curt no problem was his only response. Did I do anything wrong to him? Was it the clothes I was posting on my timeline and stories for sale that was the problem? I had gone over all that transpired and I couldn’t fathom what it was. Then out of the blues, he was back.

Mr D: “Hello Peace. How about that hangout you owe me? Do you think this weekend works?”

P: “ This your disappearing acts na wa. Where did you run off to this time around?

Mr D: “I’m sorry. I will explain when we meet. Suggest a cool place for a drink. I will send my driver by say, 7pm.

P: “Okay. I will send directions to my place. See you at 7pm.”

That was when he revealed to me the woes of his marriage. On the outside they were perfect but the cracks in their marriage could fit an alligator. His wife had become disillusioned with his constant travelling. She had accused him severally of cheating and when that didn’t stick she accused him of being gay. After their sons were born she totally shut him off and even filed for divorce before succumbing to pleas from family and friends.

How can such a sweet man be cursed with a woman who couldn’t stand the sight of him? He was great looking with a very strong sex appeal. He was generous and kind and clearly adored his wife. My pet project deals with women who are seeking to find the spark in their marriages, to heat up the coals that had gone cold. Here was this man who clearly still had the hots for his wife but was being shut out. I gave him all the advice I had, we both spoke to sex therapists and gynaecologists who attributed her coldness to many factors including the birth of their twin boys. He was advised by professionals to continue being kind and thoughtful in his pursuit of coitus.

He became busy with a new project of his and he requested I stepped in. He got me a phone that was a clone of his and I began interacting with his wife. I’d ask about the children, remind her of her appointments, send her thoughtful gifts on special days as well as random days; all the things she had held against him because of his busy schedule. By the time he came up for air, she was eager to have him at home and in her bed.

I felt like a god, working my magic in the shadows, seeing how she had turned from a bitter spiteful woman to a blooming flower. As a thank you after a successful weekend of them closed off just the two of them, he sent me off to Dubai to shop and unwind.

As soon as I arrived, he was at the airport to pick me.

“How can you be so busy and still come to pick me up from the airport”

“I must say, you have made me realize what is truly important and to make the effort.”


We drove to a popular buka for some much-craved amala and ewedu ensemble. We ate and talked – I listened as he spoke about this new project. It was revolutionary and a part of me felt giddy knowing him and being a part of his vision even by proxy.

It was 7pm when he drove down the road to my apartment. We sat in the car in silence. “She is not moving back. She is staying back in Ghana with the boys.”

“I am so sorry…”

His mouth swallowed the rest of my comments. His lips trembled as he sought comfort. I kissed him back. His hand cupped the back of my neck and drew me closer. Thank god I had removed my seatbelt so I could move in closer. He stopped jerked off as if from a trance and sat back in his seat. He adjusted noisily and cleared his throat.

“Ummmm… I am sorry about that. It is just…”

“It is fine.”

I dropped from the vehicle and watched him drive off. What just happened?

I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. The way my entire body responded to his trembling lips. My God! My entire headspace was filled with wanton thoughts of the feel of his hands; the way the balls of his fingers rolled over my neck as his kisses got deeper. What was wrong with me? He on the other hand was acting like nothing happened. He didn’t fail to insert his wife and kids into our conversations. It was all good, we both knew that the kiss shouldn’t have happened.

Mr D: “SOS”

MR. D: “I missed our anniversary. I am out of town, won’t be back till tomorrow. HELP!”

P: “Ouch!”

P: “Did you have any plans?”

Mr D: “None. Totally slipped my mind. This new project has taken over my life.

Mr D: “Brb.”

Mr D: “I will call you in an hour”

I watched the clock on the wall wishing the time could pull a Usain Bolt. I tried to distract myself with the work on my desk but my mind was hell-bent on the wall clock and my phone. After almost two hours of fidgeting, I got a message.

Mr D ” It’s been settled. Talk soon.”

Huh? What the hell? talk soon? Not after I had made calls to cake shops and flower vendors. Not after putting my bolt guy on standby in case, it got too dark out. It’s been settled. The way I was invested in this man’s marriage you would think that was my great commission.

I had too much pent up feelings and I knew no amount of work would distract me. I called the bolt guy, I needed a drink or two. There was that open invitation to fantasy. It won’t hurt to enjoy some male company and David fit the bill. Devilishly handsome, rich, well connected and had a crush on me.

The interior of fantasy had been properly crafted to make it look spacious yet welcoming. The lights were mellow and the air was filled with heady woody scents. The exterior made you eager to enter, the exterior made you too comfortable to leave. I went to the bar and ordered a dirty martini then texted David.

He came, all smiles and hugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Well, I wanted to surprise you. Surprise!”

You almost surprised yourself because I was about leaving”

Whew! With the amount of pent up energy, I had, not meeting  David would have been a disaster.

He invited me to the back away from the music and people. He informed me four back rooms were catering to various clients’ needs. Where we were going he said was exactly what I needed. Well, lead on mister.

As soon as I stepped in I was immediately transported. The room was like an old southern diner complete with a jukebox machine- I’d never seen one of those in real life. this room was for those looking to indulge in some nostalgia or those like me who have some romantic scene stuck in their heads. I was transported to the bodyguard starring Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner. All that was missing was an unknown stalker.

You bought the coins needed to use the jukebox. Four coins cost a thousand naira and you could only play two songs. I played Jolene by Dolly Parton and moved to the forlorn melody. David watched me spin imaginary binding cords in the air from the skirting shisha smoke floating upwards. I played out the resigned fate of the singer. The knowledge that she would always be second best but still appealing “ don’t take my man even though you can”

“You are a beautiful woman. I now understand why this room is a hit at Fantasy.”

I sat beside him and took a sip of my drink.

“What other rooms are there?”

His eyes dropped to my lips and slowly rested on my ample bosom covered now with a thin film of sweat. I followed his eyes and escorted them back to my face.

“They are occupied at the moment. And just like this one, you need to experience it instead of being told.”

I nodded and collected more coins. David had worked many jobs on his way up the ladder, one being a bartender and from the flow of exciting flavours and perfect blends, he must have been in high demand. I played “I’m every woman” by Whitney Houston and “sexual healing” by Marvin Gaye. There were thousands of songs to pick from; songs about money, pussy, weed, old-time love, war, everything. This room, the escape; the old romantic hues of brown, orange, ox red, the amazingly tasting liquor that kept flowing and David. The ever-smiling great conservationist who had joined me to dance to busy signal’s missing you. To hell with Damian and his talk soon. If he imagined that I would be huddled in some corner waiting for him well he thought wrong.


How the hell did I give this man such power over my thoughts? I could be thinking of doing the dishes and the image of him would intrude. Why did I suddenly feel empty without him? Here I was having a good time and yet I was wishing it was his perfect white dentition shadowing mine. I wanted his hands on the small of my waist and not David’s. It was our bodies meant to be moving to the magic in Busy signal’s voice. And just like that, the magic was gone. I was back in my seat a sulking heap.

“Can we go?”

David had been nothing but a fantastic host and I hated what I was doing but I could not stay here a minute longer. He didn’t push. He only asked if I was sure. That was something about David. He never pushed. He believed that a woman should be as eager to be with him or nothing. “We matching energies or nothing at all” he would always say. It was cold outside. I had planned to stay till around 11pm max 12 but here I was by 2:00am wrapped in David’s coat waiting for my bolt guy. He’d insisted on dropping me off but I insisted back. I did not want to have the awkward conversation of whether he should come in or not. Even though he wasn’t that kind of person, there was no need to push him.

The drive back was sober. My bolt guy who was usually chatty was silently humming to Sinach played on low volume. Why couldn’t I match David’s energy? Why didn’t I feel more than a deep appreciation for him? When I first arrived in Abuja, he was there for me. A solid friend who housed me for four months before I got my own place. He was the one who connected me to my first billionaire client. I wanted fireworks and wildfires. I wanted Damian. Damian was unpredictable, sleek and passionate. You never knew what was coming up next with him.

“Small Madam no be house you dey drop?”

“Sorry. Na here I dey drop. How much be your money?”

“Small madam, na normal way”

“Okay. I go transfer am give you for morning.”

No wahala small madam. Good night.”


I hugged David’s coat closer to wad off the biting wind. In the cold night, the road to my doorstep felt like the great wall of China. The heaviness in my heart seeped to my legs as I trudged on. As I put my keys I saw my plants move. I didn’t wait to see what was behind them. I flung my purse and shoes and ran off. Whatever it was had legs and was following me too.

“Jesus!!!! Jesus!!!”

What is wrong with you? Would you stop running… and screaming!”

What the hell Damian! What are you doing here? Jesus, you scared me!.” He gripped my arm and wordlessly pulled me back towards the house. He ordered me to open the door while he picked my purse and shoes. Inside he flung my purse and shoes and pulled me into him. I felt the rush of blood flood my entire system blocking every sense I had. His chest heaved with every breath he took, crushing my puckered breasts. My throat was dried and I began trembling in anticipation of what was to come.


There was no foreplay, no sweet words spoken, nothing. He pulled up my dress, pulled down my panties and inserted his humongous dick into me.


I felt like I was being split into two! He was pounding into me and my scream was stuck in my throat along with his dick. I stiffened as he continued his assault. So this is how I will die? Split into two by the Thor of dicks! No wonder his wife was unwilling to move back with him. The poor woman had escaped murder. He grunted off after he was done while I lay there still shell shocked by the last 5 minutes.

“What the fuck just happened?”

“I know right?”

“You know you just raped me in my house, right?”

“O please., rape? Isn’t that far-reaching? So I was overcome by jealousy mixed with fear since you were not picking your calls or replying to my messages…”

“And that is enough reason to come to my house and rape me?”

he was up and pacing my living room. My eyes widened as he spoke. Was he being serious?

“I didn’t rape you. You know you wanted this as much as I did. Don’t pretend you didn’t know that we would end up fucking. If I rushed it, I can make it up to you now.”

“Get out.”

“O come on. Don’t be like this. Do you want me to apologise? fine, I am sorry. I am sorry that I am in love with you and I can’t think straight. I am sorry that ever since I came across you on Facebook I have been plagued by the thoughts of you; your mind, your body, everything! There I said it”

“I said get out!! get out of my house before I scream and wake the neighbours. Get out Damian; out!!!!”

How did I let this happen? How did I not see this for what it was? The monies, the “o I love my wife and want to please her routine.” It was the same ol game and he had played it to perfection.

I texted David. He said he would be at my place in two hours. I used the time to clean myself and my apartment. I allowed the heat of the water to burn my skin. I scrubbed off Damian until my skin was tingled and raw. I then proceeded to the kitchen to make my Sunday special. Pancakes. I mixed the flour, pinch of salt and sugar, and baking powder together, then the butter, milk, eggs and vanilla extract separately and kept it. I filled a bowl with an array of fruits; strawberries, blueberries, diced bananas and pineapples. I poured a generous amount of yoghurt and placed it in the fridge. Back in the room, I put on my most racy underwear. A red matching lace set I got on my trip to Dubai three months ago courtesy of Damian. I suppressed the image of him. Forced him out of my mind and mentally prepared for David’s arrival. We matching energies or nothing. That was his creed and I was going to match his energy. David sensed something was off immediately. I never served him. We treated each other’s homes like it was ours. But here I was wrapped in a silk robe pouring honey over his steaming pancake. he could never resist my pancakes and I watched as he wolfed the pancakes. By the time I brought the bowl of fruits he knew where this was heading to. He ate slowly as if tasting the various flavours, savouring the contrast of the tastes and textures wrapped in creamy goodness. While he ate I unwrapped my robe and stood before him. The look of surprise was replaced by the unmistakable heaviness of desire. He sat back in the seat, the bowl of fruits forgotten on the table.

He watched me for what felt like a thousand years before he stood up. he walked up to me slowly, watching my face for any clues as to what my intentions are. I told him.

“I want you to fuck me. Don’t ask me why just fuck my brains out”

“Are you sure?”


He searched my face to give me a chance to back down. But I didn’t. I NEEDED THIS.

He lifted me and took me to the bedroom but not the bed. He had always said my bed was too soft for any serious action. He teased me that that was why I never got any action. Since I moved in a year ago, no man had slept in my bed. No man had fucked me until last night.

He made love to me first with his eyes, then his words, then his hands and tongue before his dick. This man that I had shunned for so long, this man that I didn’t know could ever make me feel passion brought out the woman in me and I was a believer.

I didn’t know I could cum just by having my breasts worked on but by the time he had gotten to my soaked panties, I had come twice.

I tried to close my legs to shut out the sensations. I was drowning in the puddle of my own making and I wanted it to stop. He used his broad shoulders as a wedge while he continued to eat me out. I felt the spasms rock me from my little toe right through the tip of my hair. As my breathing began to normalize and I gradually made my descent back to earth, he straddled me. His dick was wet and shiny with a thin film of pre-cum dripping off. I watched as he used the tip to wipe my clitoris. His movements were a mixture of fast and slow building up momentum with every move. My body had taken on a mind of its own and was responding like a duet. My legs that had shaken from earlier spread open as he dug into me without entering. His face was contorted as he concentrated on giving me pleasure. I had cum twice, on the verge of the third yet he shone gloriously not in his release. My throbbing grew erratic. He must have sensed it too as his free hand shot to my nipple forcing me to erupt gloriously. That was when he entered. His haggard breathing, a testament to his own pleasure. He pinned me to the ground with his fingers wrapped around my neck and rode. He began slow, too slow. Working my vagina walls, ensuring he filled me up completely. David was big, but I welcomed his full length. The way he filled me up, perfectly like he was made just for me. His veins served as tentacles conjuring unbridled sensations as he pushed in and out. Fully in, halfway out.

The ta ta ta ta rhythm grew faster and faster and the fireworks beckoned. My juices mixed with the smell and feel of him.

“Oh, You’re so juicy! Fuck! Fuck ME! URGHHHHH! I’M COMING URGHHHH!! ”

I thrust my hips forward and spread wider as his groans filled the room. I held him inside me while his body shook. This man is delicious abeg. Why did it take me so long to get here? Why did I have to go through the beast to get to my knight? Here I thought David was safe. Not knowing he was blue flame, the most dangerous of them all.

I wasn’t sure what this was. How we would go from here. I had not seen beyond this moment. I knew I would have to deal with Damian soon enough, I knew we would have to find a way to make this work. But for now, I lay on my back holding tight to David. Satisfied in the now.

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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 1 year, 2 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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