He is not an everyday kind of guy, Tayo. He’s not even an every year kind of guy. He’s a lifetime kind. I like to think he’s the kind you get as a reward for a great good you did in your past life and I tell you, not everyone did a great good in their past life.
‘Where are we going?’ he had asked me the first time we met. Not ‘what’s your name?’, not even ‘where are you going’. You see there was a ‘we’ from the moment our eyes first kissed. I was on my way back from work that night and it was at the place I hated most, the roadside market where there was always so much hassle and tussle. There were car horns honking, traders screaming at the top of their lungs, bodies rubbing and people hurrying.
I always make my passage there as quick as possible and it was in my usual rush that I met him. He was coming my way and I was going his and when our eyes locked, I felt alone with him, the market no longer there. When we finally walked past, howbeit slowly, his fragrance stuck. There was something about it. I stopped a few paces later and saw he too had stopped. I wasn’t surprised. It felt so right. Our minds had communicated or so it felt. That was when he walked back to me and asked where we are going and I pointed him to my direction
We hit it off from there.
We went on dates regularly after that and soon, I felt like my life depended on them. After one, I hopelessly spent the rest of the week or however long it took, waiting for the next. I planned what I’d wear, what I’d do to my hair, what shade of lipstick I’d wear and even what to talk about. I wanted everything to be perfect for him. I was sure someone so cool must have been with even cooler people and I didn’t want him to think for a moment that I was any less.
The first time we did it, it was to me like he had planted a time bomb inside me. I was sure I was going to explode. I just didn’t know when. Before we did it, I knew it was going to happen. We had it coming. Those raunchy kisses, those times he groped me under there in his car, those times I ‘mistakenly’ brushed my hand against his crotch, there are no clearer signs.
He had me lie on my back with my legs slightly parted and traveled his hand all over my body. No spot was left out, not the bald edges of my hair, not even my ugly little toe.
As his hands went slowly and sensually down, the spark he lit in my body ever since we met, became a flame. When his fingers got to my left breast, my body hardened with my nipples. That particular breast did a lot of things to me, I’ve never before had it so revealed. I waited to see what he thought about how ugly and out of shape it was. I took almost forever to find out. He paid more attention to it than any other part of my body. Finally, he said, ‘Baby, I’ve never seen a more perfect breast.’ I haven’t seen a more perfect man either sir.
We didn’t make love. He made love to me. My pleasure was his pleasure, he told me. Whatever that means. He did it to me like it had and still has never been done to me. It was like he was worshiping my body, the way he took his time, the attention he paid, the length he went. It was an initiation to lovemaking, I was a virgin and clueless again.
He nibbled on left my nipple, robbed my other nipple with his fingers while gently squeezing my breast and stroked my clit with his left hand. I was on fire everywhere. He understood what it was to tease and he knew to stop just before I run mad. On his way down, his tongue drew patterns on my belly and by the time he got to my inner thigh, it was raining down below.
He gently asked if I was ready to take him and I pulled him closer in response. He wouldn’t have it, he wanted me to clearly say I wanted it. I screamed yes, I could die if he stopped then. His penis wasn’t a cassava. I won’t say I haven’t seen bigger but it wasn’t a pencil either. It was beautiful. It wasn’t till later that I found out it was dangerous as well. It could do anything it set its mind to do. It could conquer the world. It could become president.
After he slid in, he gave me time to adjust, maybe more time than necessary then he began drilling. That was how it felt, like he was drilling an entirely new road down there, one that has never been used. I say this because everything I felt was new, the feeling that my life supply would be cut and I’d die if it ends, the fire in my soul, the feeling that a bomb was inside and I was going to explode, and the orgasm that almost had me paralyzed afterwards.
When I recovered and asked what I could do to at least make him experience half of what I did, he said my pleasure was his pleasure, whatever that meant.
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