Debased ...

He didn’t just take my innocence, he took my hope.

When I was 8, he said to me "Girl, look how fast you're filling out", as he played with my hair, "In a couple of years you're gon be all grown child".

When I was 10, he said to me, "Everybody gives Uncle Tony a kiss before going to bed in this house", as he stroked my cheek. My mother's house.

When I was 12, on a drunken night, he broke down my room door and covered my screaming lips and held down my fighting legs and thrust himself inside me.
When I was 12, he started killing my soul. Little girls like me never grow up, they just die.

The kind of hurt that he made me feel, it doesn’t go away.

My mother walked into the room and all she saw was the mess in the room, not the whimpering child curled up in a ball in the corner , and all she said to me, as she looked at the bloody sheets around my waist was "Child, You only got your period."

And I shook my head, "He hurt me ma, he pushed, and he held me down", I said with soundless tears streaming down my face.

My mother said to me, "Hush your mouth child, you only got your period"

….and now, its been 25 years, I can hear my daughter screaming in the room next to mine, her father had a bad day. When she comes to me crying, I'll hold her, wash her up, and tell her soothingly, "Hush little baby, Daddy loves you…you only got your period".

#TurnTheLightsDownLow ....

It had rained that night.

But the rain wasn’t the only reason why she picked up her phone and called him, repeatedly, till the damn MTN woman decided to put her through instead of lying about some unreachable network.
The rain wasn’t even the reason why she put her favorite Marvin Gaye record on as she swayed around her hotel room in her monogrammed white towel tied slightly above her breast and another wrapped around her shower soaked hair.
The rain didn’t excuse the tightness in her lumbus or the gently escalating throbbing that she had been feeling in that same region for the past hour….and a half.

It had simply been a rainy night, but what does one expect in the metropolis of Lagos?
She had even been stuck in an unending traffic that night, had been shouted on by her beer-stomached boss, and she had just had a fight with her best friend who, on any other night, would have gladly come over to share gossips over the this and the that of her life.

It was one of those nights where after soaking herself in the bath tub, she still had to stand under the cascading shower, letting the water massage her back and shoulders as she turned the knob from hot, to cold, to hot, and then to cold.
But even that still did not ease the annoying teasing and taunting that she felt in her clitoris like a button had permanently been turned on in her brain and it wouldn’t go off till she could feel him inside her.
So she called him. Repeatedly.
MTN is a cock-blocking network, but she refused to be daunted!
Tonight, she wanted someone to mechanically work her body through and through with the right touches, manually manipulating her breasts and nipples till they rose as a synonymous unit to bring her pleasure, Kneading and rubbing parts of the body, and using them as weapons of sexual satisfaction.

And he came over immediately. All she had to do was whisper in her naturally husky voice filled with emotions and sexual tensions and the desire to be fucked over and over. All she had to do was breath into the phone all the things that she wanted to do to him and have him do to her, in as few words as possible. All she had to say into the phone was, "I want you!".

No questions asked, no ulterior motives implied except that tonight he would have to leave his wife of 2 years and drive across islands and mainlands' to get to her hotel room.
No answers needed because in those three words, she had loaded, heavily, the past that they had built together, the familiarity of their love lost, love found, and love lost again.
You see, it was history that was calling.
No names even required on the phone, because the honesty of the situation was that he had known when her flight landed in Lagos earlier that afternoon, known her hotel room and number just as she booked it, and the luggage man had already told him that she had come alone. The housekeeping staff had already mentioned that she had finished her late scheduled meetings for the day. The honesty of the situation was that, he already knew. He was already waiting.

So without much further ado, he had kissed his wife on the forehead, proclaimed a last minute outing with the boys as he drove out of his newly furnished house at one o'clock in the morning. He packed an overnight bag. Just in case, he said.

He knocked on the room door once, bag in one hand as he used a finger of the other to quickly push down the visible edge of the green Durex condom that he knew she favored because of its ribbed sensational feeling when he was sliding in and out of her.
She opened immediately after that single knock, almost as if she had been standing behind the door, awaiting his arrival.
He stepped through the brown glossed door and he used the back of his heel to shut it till he heard the click that signified the auto lock. He lowered the hand that held his custom made bag till the bag was flat on the blue plush rug, and in his head, if he could, he would have had her right there by the floor of the door. But he bid his time. They would have their moment.

This night had been a long time coming, through break ups and make ups and his engagement to another, and subsequent marriage to that other, they had kept coming back to each other, finding solitude and peace in each other's arms, episode after episode, no questions asked, so no answers supplied. They simply had an understanding.

And he was the only one that understood that sometimes she had to have it brutally rough in other for her to reach her climax of satisfaction. He was the only one that understood that she would rather have hours unending of foreplay, than 10 unsatisfactory minutes of some random ungentlemanly fellow plummeting into her feminine walls without a definite rhythm. He understood her.
And she understood him. In ways even his wife could not.
She knew how he liked to be ridden in regular recurrence with her body sliding up and down the length of him, tightening as she rode up, and relaxing her wells as she slid down. She had mastered him. She understood him

And so she understood when the very first thing he did was to unwrap the hem of her towel, letting it fall into a wad at her feet. He didn’t expect her to step out of it, so she didn’t.
He released the towel on her head and let her somewhat damp hair cling to her back and her shoulders and the top of her breast.
He wanted to look at her, and so he did. And in doing that he could see how tightly her aureoles had peaked into darkened rings of color, he could see the swelling between her slightly parted legs, so he placed two fingers in between her legs such that the heaviness of her clitoris rested on his immediately damp fingers, and the heat radiating from her aroused femininity made his fingers sweat.

She wanted him.......




Because of space, and well, because of continuance ...this post will be in 3 parts! I love you too :p

#TurnTheLightsDownLow .....(Dimmer)

"I want you", She repeated. In case he was too self-consumed to realize the urgency of her needs. But he understood. She had always come first with him. Always. Her pleasure, was his pleasure…her passion, was his passion.

He wanted her. She could feel him through the blackness of his tailored pants, the length of him, the thickness of him.

He stood slightly above 6ft, and she was slightly above 5ft. She was petite really, such that when he closed the distance between them, she could feel the strength of his masculinity on her toned stomach.
The heat between them could only be described under the hidden and buried pages of Jackie Collins novels or Harlequin romance.
He wanted to do explicit unsayable things to her that would make her knees buckle from too much pressure and her body quiver from too much intensity.
He wanted to fuck her, then make love to her, then hold her.

With all the hunger that could dominate his body, he pushed her naked slim figure on the wall of the hotel room, with her perky breast resting on the wall, and the curve of her ass thrusting up for access into the bodily cavity of her butt as he rammed into her with as much ferocity as he could muster. He had barely had time to let his pants drop to his ankles, he had barely had time to wrap up his member before applying the kind of internal pressure that could have caused the involuntary and sensual non-human moan to escape from her lips, and erupt from her throat.
This time was simply to acquire as much satisfaction as they could while quenching their animalistic thirsts.

He wanted her in every possible position, and in every possible flexibility. He wanted her shaking and begging and screaming and tearing at his back, and digging her fingers into his hair.
So he turned her to face him, her back against the wall as he kissed her already swollen lips deeper than he should have, with his tongue pushing, searching…he used his right hand to cup the under of her breast as he alternated between gently squeezing and then thumbing the insides of her breast to her nipple.
A soft almost inaudible moan escaped her lips as he bent his head to her bouncy bra-less breasts, sucking in on the hardness of her dark nipples, paying careful and thorough attention to the excitement that was building up in her utterances. He brought his head up to kiss her on the lips, and as she tried to push his head back, he held up both her hands on the wall above her head. She was powerless to the little pinpricks of pleasure she felt with each nibble on her neck, and on her shoulders, and on her breast. And with each kiss that he placed on her earlobes, and her navel, stomach, and every other part of her body her could get to.

With the effortlessness of an athlete, he lifted her size 6 body off the ground. He lifted her so high off the ground that her legs would wrap around neck and shoulder blades, and with an upward thrust of her lower back, his head would be buried inside her vaginal walls, and his tongue could dart in and out of her vulva, with his ready tongue wetting her clitoris as it flickered back and forth, before he settled into absorbing and soaking up her total femininity.

Without a moments hesitation he carried her sensitized body and laid her on the plush bed as he stripped himself of the rest of his clothing. Her eager hands attempted to help him but he brushed her fingers away and consumed her lips, earlobes and forehead with kisses.
With the pounding of her heart and the touching of lips, the kisses made her head useless, as if she was intoxicated by some elixir, an elixir of sensuality and passion that cannot be found in all the world. His smoldering seduction made it almost impossible for her to avoid the state of dissociation that she was reveling in. She'd never been so desired, so consumed by a man…this man.

Fingers traced her chin, her mouth. His breath on her neck, in her ear. Heat lay against her face. Teeth delicately held her lip, and then a sting, just the smallest one that left a longing for a deeper cut. The temptation of delicious wickedness. They played with each other and ran fingers over skin, as if they could only think, exist, if in contact with each other.

All unspoken requests were immediately answered, but there was no urgency this time, only the patience of timely exploration of bodies that had been robbed of their familiarity. He wanted to get to know her again, and he did.