(C) 2018, Ikenna Igwe (author of the true story novel, THE DARK RIVERS OF YESTERDAY)




SYNOPSIS

Unarguably, the past has an inexplicable way of making or marring the future.
Michael and Chineye are close cousins. Furthermore, they are close friends. But there is a problem: one of them is madly in love with the other.
Pretty soon the stage is set for a display of abominable intimacy as the fruit of pleasure is eaten heatedly in a moment of weakness. Several years down the line, the consequences of an unholy act knocks on the doors of the participants. It is time to pay for the secret sin that was committed on a beautiful night, in a beautiful house, in the beautiful city of Enugu.



CHAPTER ONE


YOU’RE ABOUT to read a vivid account of how the icy fingers of my dark past reached out ominously, grasped my bright future, and almost crushed it.
Certainly we live in a world framed by good and evil...a world markedly defined by the cyclic system of ‘cause and effect’ – echoing Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion, which boldly states that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
My name is Michael Ugo. And this is my story…
I was born and raised in Lagos...the last child out of four children. My father is a major league contractor. Sadly, my mother is dead. She passed away when I was seven. My older sister, our first born, sort of mothered the rest of us – a role she still plays remarkably well.
My father is a gentleman, and nice to a fault. His fatherly role, especially after my mother’s demise, has been nothing short of exceptional. Hey, don’t get me wrong. He, like everyone else, has his faults. But on the overall he’s a great guy.
After my primary school education I sat for the Common Entrance examination, which I passed with flying colours. I gained admission into Saint Ferdinand’s College – one of the finest, all-boys secondary schools in Nigeria. I recall, with nostalgia, that I always wore my school uniform – a white short-sleeve shirt over equally white shorts – with a high sense of dignity and esteem...unlike some students I knew.
However, maintaining the white colour of the uniform was quite an arduous task for a good number of students. To say the least, it easily showcased those of us who were, perhaps, dirty by nature.
Lucky for me I used three uniforms per school term. Now, this doesn’t mean I was a dirty person; no, far from it. Let’s just say I was fortunate enough to have a father who could afford to procure the clothes for me. Some students, who obviously weren’t as fortunate, envied me because of this.
After my junior secondary education, and passing the relevant examinations, I opted for the Science Department for my senior secondary schooling. I did this because I really wanted to become a Mechanical engineer. Now, my classmates, without the slightest hesitation, had chosen me as their class captain – a position I held on to till I graduated from the school. In my final year the school board made me the health prefect – a position that generated controversy because it broke protocol.
As a rule then (even now) any class captain who was to be made a prefect had to first relinquish his position to someone else. My case, however, was quite different, as none of my classmates was interested in donning the mantle of captaincy. They hotly insisted I retain the position. As such I simultaneously functioned as both the class captain and the health prefect – something that had never happened before then, or after. Naturally, this made me an object of hate to some students, as well as to a few of my fellow prefects.
Time went by swiftly, and the next thing we knew was that the Senior Secondary School Examination, which had appeared miles away several years back, was now just around the corner.
After paying the SSCE fees, each of us (final year students), as part of the registration requirements, had to fill out a form with the subjects we intended to sit for. Below the form, on the left hand side, was a dotted line – a space for signature and date.
A month to the SSCE we were given our various examination numbers. Mine was 302. Two weeks to the SSCE, the time table, for each examination paper, was released. The first subject for Science students was Chemistry practical. It was a morning paper. Everyone, I believed, was already studying in earnest for the forthcoming exams.
Like a river flowing to its expected destination the day for the Chemistry practical paper arrived. The venue, as designated, was our Chemistry Laboratory. We all stood dutifully outside while a West African Examinations Council (WAEC) official read out our names and examination numbers from a broad sheet of paper. Whenever any student heard his name and number, he would immediately walk into the Lab and sit down at the desk assigned to him.
And now here comes the shocker. Every student’s examination details were read out – except mine. When I complained to the WAEC official he showed me the broad sheet and asked me to look through it myself; perhaps he had erroneously omitted my name and number, earlier.
As it turned out he hadn’t. My examination details were missing on the sheet of paper. I carefully looked through the broad paper again...and again my name and number were absent. I began to sweat, despite the cold morning.
That’s weird, I thought. How is this possible? How come I’m the odd student out? God, what’s going on?
The WAEC official advised me to report the matter to our school principal, at once, before I was totally excluded from the SSCE.
Some of my classmates, who were already seated in the Lab, were staring at me, through the Lab windows, with puzzled expressions – visibly wondering at what the problem was. What the hell was I still doing outside when they were about to commence writing an important paper?
I wish I knew.
I dashed off, worried and muddled, to the principal’s office to register my complaint, just as the Chemistry practical examination kicked off.



Stay tuned for Chapter Two on Wednesday.

Meanwhile you can read my other short story, titled LOVE'S FOOL (Chapter 1-6) in this section. Thanks.

That is a nice start, let me seat at the front with my mosquito net til wedenesday

CHAPTER TWO



ON ARRIVING AT the reception area of the principal’s office I learnt he wasn’t on seat; that he had travelled out of town, the day before, to attend to an emergency.
What is so imperative to warrant his absence, from school, when the SSCE is currently taking place? I wondered. I didn’t really know. His secretary, a black-skinned, small-statured, and big-headed woman, who I suspected knew, clearly wasn’t interested in telling me.
I reached for the next best thing. I asked for the vice principal. Without offering me a glance as she typed out a document at the speed of light – her long, thin and busy fingers clicking noisily on keys of her typewriter – the secretary told me the VP was making the rounds to ensure that the SSCE was running smoothly. I quickly went looking for him. I found him within a short time, and concisely explained my quandary to him. We both went (more like rushed) to his office.
One thing I loved about our VP was his orderly nature. It reflected in everything he did; the way he dressed, talked and arranged his office. Everything, from his file cabinets to his pens, was meticulously placed.
Whenever I was in his office I couldn’t help but be awed. But when I stepped into his office, on this particular day, I was in no mood for admiration – not when I was yet to figure out the kind of mess I was in.
The VP went to one of his office cabinets, opened it, and brought out another broad (actually, broader) sheet of paper – this time containing the names and examination numbers of all the final year students sitting for the SSCE. The sheet also contained the subjects entered for by each student.
The man and I scrupulously searched through the sheet and, to our astonishment, discovered that my exam number and the subjects I’d entered for were different from the ones I originally had. The former, which was initially 302, was now 305, while the latter, which were strictly Science-oriented, were now Commercial-oriented. It was really baffling.
The VP began to sweat. I was already doing that and more.
To be certain, the VP looked through a bulky file, on a corner of his table, soon located, and brought out the photocopy of my registration form (the original had been submitted to WAEC). I was stunned at what I saw.
The photocopy was not that of the registration form I had initially filled out!
True, my name was on the form quite all right, but, like in the broad sheet, my exam number and the subjects I’d entered for were different. And here’s another bolt from the blue: the handwriting I saw wasn’t mine. Clearly, someone had tampered with my original form, and then submitted a fake in its stead. The person had even forged my signature remarkably well. The only tell-tale sign of fraud was that his (or hers) was smaller than mine in size.
The VP was opened-mouthed as I pointed out, and explained, my discoveries to him. By this time he was sweating copiously. He brought out a white handkerchief from the left pocket of his trousers and wiped the sweat away from his face and arms.
When he eventually found his voice he said, more to himself, “This is incredible! How could this have happened?” He sighed and nervously rapped his right fingers on the edge of his table – apparently thinking on the next move to make. He looked directly at me, his anxious face searching for the faintest ripple of lie. “Are you sure you properly filled out and submitted your registration form?”
I remained a solid portrait of sincerity. “Sir, I assure you, I did.”
The man gave another sigh. I could sense his mind was still twirling with confusion, as it wrestled with the real source of the fault. Was it me, the school management or WAEC? He faced me again. “Okay, come with me. Let’s go and see the WAEC Chief Supervisor.”
_______
The VP and I rushed out to look for the man. I glanced at my watch as we did. About forty minutes had slipped by since the Chemistry practical examination started. And it was a two-hour paper.
When we found the Chief Supervisor, and explained my predicament to him, he was quite sympathetic. After offering a detailed explanation on how the error couldn’t have been from WAEC he made it pellucid that at that stage I had just two options. “Young man,” he said in a tired voice, “the truth is...it’s either you sit for the Commercial-oriented subjects, as they are, or...you completely forget about the SSCE for this year.”
There they were...loud and clear for all who cared to listen.
At first, for me, both options were, outright, unacceptable. How can I sit for subjects I know next to nothing about? And how can I just forego my SSCE, after spending six good years in the secondary school?
No doubt, I was at a crossroads.
Which do I take?
Eventually, after a critical assessment of the reality on ground, I chose the second option. To put it blandly, it was devastating. My father was really furious. He wanted to take legal action, bordering on gross negligence on the part of the management, against my school, but my siblings and I managed to dissuade him from doing so.
The school principal, on returning from his emergency trip, expressed his sincere apology – promising to deal ruthlessly with anyone, staff or student, found to be culpable of tampering with my SSCE registration form.
Three years later, one of our teachers – the Biology teacher, actually – while on her death bed, after being struck by a strange and incurable ailment, confessed to the heinous crime. Regrettably, she carried the reason for her devilry to the grave.
I was astonished – since I, like most students, had venerated the woman. She was soft-spoken kind-hearted...the type that wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Well, it’s no secret that humans, even those with lofty and affable natures, are most unpredictable.
Let’s move on.
Having failed to sit for the May/June SSCE, I registered, and began to studiously prepare, for the Nov/Dec General Certificate Examination (GCE).
As God would have it I made all my papers – with seven A’s and two C’s. The next hurdle was the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) examination, as it was referred to back then.
As was required, I picked two higher institutions; the University of Lagos (UNILAG) as my first choice, and Enugu State University of Science and Technology (ESUTECH) as my second one. Interestingly, I chose the same course for both institutions: Mechanical Engineering. I wanted to study the course because I was simply crazy about machines – or is machinery a better word?
Anyway, when the JAMB examination result was released I scored 232. I now waited, almost apprehensively, for the cut-off marks for Mech. Engineering from both universities. There was no Post-Jamb examination – an internal examination conducted by higher institutions for candidates who were successful in the JAMB examination – in those days.
The cut-off marks eventually came out...leaving twin disappointment in their wakes. For UNILAG it was 250, while for ESUTECH it was 244. Obviously, in both cases, I was more than 10 marks short.
I was quite depressed – a state that worsened when I learnt that some of my friends and colleagues had clearly scaled the cut-off marks for their respective courses. I found it hard coming to terms with the fact that they, unlike me, were going to gain admission into their chosen higher institutions.
I was still floundering about in gloom’s dark cavern when a ray of hope shone through an unexpected opening.
_______
One morning, my uncle – my father’s younger brother – who lived in Enugu, called and informed my father that he knew someone – a friend – at ESUTECH, who might be able to help me gain admission into the institution, to study my dream course. And furthermore, I had to come over to Enugu and stay with him while the admission process was worked out.
At first, my father played the sceptic...but in end my uncle convinced him to give the proposition a shot. So, with a good measure of faith, I set out for Enugu on a cloudy Tuesday morning.


Chapter Three will be uploaded on Friday. Stay tuned. Thanks.

CHAPTER THREE


I BOARDED A bus bound for Onitsha, because I couldn’t get the one headed directly for Enugu. As a matter of fact, back then very few buses journeyed straight from Lagos to Enugu.
I sat beside a dark and corpulent male passenger, who turned out to be a first-class glutton – as he made it a point of duty to gobble up all kinds of edible items along the way. The man’s cavernous mouth worked voraciously – biting, tearing and chewing away – virtually throughout the entire journey. He, severally, offered me some of his goodies, but I politely turned him down each time.
We arrived at Onitsha late in the evening – owing to a sudden and heavy downpour, a few miles to Asaba. The almost blinding rain had induced a severe gridlock.
After debussing at the bus-park I, like some of the other passengers, boarded a mini-bus going to Enugu. We got there, 8PM on the dot. I climbed down and took a commercial motor cycle, popularly known as Okada, to my uncle’s residence. I got there at exactly 8:45PM.
My uncle and his family were wide awake. They’d been worried when I failed to turn up on time. My father and my siblings were equally worried because each time the former called my uncle, over the telephone, to find out if I had arrived, he got a negative response.
Of course, in those days mobile phones were not available on a wide scale, as they are now; so there was no way I could have communicated with my family to let them know where I was at every point in time.
Anyway, everyone was quite relieved when I arrived safely at my destination. I felt somewhat tired as I walked into my uncle’s house, which was a massive, two-wing, fully detached duplex. Each wing carried four bedrooms, and a mini living room. The large and central living rooms were situated on the ground floors. My uncle and his family stayed in one wing of the duplex, while the other wing was, more often than not, used by guests. Both wings were linked by a short passageway, downstairs.
After quickly explaining why I had arrived late, to everyone, I was shown a nice-looking bedroom in the guest wing. I unpacked my luggage, took a long cool shower, got dressed and came downstairs for dinner, which consisted of hot fufu and egusi soup, which contained two enormous chicken laps. I ate dinner alone, because the rest had eaten theirs, before I arrived.
After the rather tasty meal, and several glasses of cold water, I went to the living room where my uncle and his family were seated, watching an interesting movie on T.V.
I joined them.
Now, my uncle had four kids; two boys and two girls. The first child and daughter was my age mate. Her name was Chineye. She was two years older than the second child: a boy; four years older than the third child: another boy; and seven years older than the last child: a girl.
Before then, the last time I saw my cousins was four years ago; and now they were all remarkably grown up.
Chineye, who was twenty at this time, was particularly stunning. She had blossomed into a beautiful young lady – with, as they say, the right curves set sexily in the right places.
While we were all watching T.V, I suddenly noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that Chineye, who was seated to my left, was staring at me. I turned in her direction.
She maintained eye contact. A rather...seductive smile lay curved, downwards, on her pretty face.
I couldn’t quite comprehend what lay behind the pleasantly devious expression. But I smiled back and returned my attention to the television set. Several minutes later the interesting movie came to an end.
My uncle then turned to me and we began to discuss issues relating to education. I learnt that Chineye had scaled the cut-off mark for her course in ESUTECH. She was already a Jambite – a local term for a freshman.
My uncle assured me he would do his best to ensure I was also admitted into ESUTECH. He kept up with the academic-related discussion, but, at that point, my mind was only processing half of our discussion, as I was already feeling sleepy. It registered in my tired eyes...my eyelids battling with the weighty bags of slumber. My uncle’s wife noticed this and pointed it out to her husband – prompting him to allow me retire for the night.
I thanked him for his concern and promise, and then I got up and excused myself. As I was about to walk out of the living room, I, once more, observed that Chineye, again, had her eyes on me – though the seductive smile was gone this time. But there was this piercing look in her eyes – like she wanted something from me. And whatever it was, she was going to get it – no matter what it took.
I wasn’t exactly fazed by her facial expressions. I summed it up to the fact that she was just toying around with me. She and I were close. We’d been that way right from childhood. We chatted and played together. We were really good friends. But when she was eleven she had relocated with her family from Lagos to Enugu. We didn’t see each other again until five years later when she and her siblings (except the last child) came and spent the Christmas holidays with me and my family in Lagos.
She and I were very happy to be together again, to play together again. A night before my cousins returned to Enugu Chineye had given me a small envelope, containing a folded piece of paper. She made me promise not to read the content of the letter until after she and her siblings had left the next day.
So, a few minutes after they departed the following morning, I opened the envelope, brought out the letter and read its content, which was just a sentence, written in red ink: Darling, I love you with all my heart.
I smiled; but I didn’t take the letter serious. So, I tore it up in bits, and threw the pieces into the dustbin. That was four years ago.
I remembered the letter episode as I crept into bed that night, oblivious of – and consequently ill-prepared for – the bomb that about to explode in the near future.


Chapter Four will be uploaded on Sunday. Stay tuned. Thanks.

CHAPTER FOUR


THE NEXT DAY or so Chineye and I were back on the same track. We talked and played games together. She was pretty good at Chess and Ludo. It was as if there had been no four-year physical interval in our relationship.
Everyone knew we were close; they were already used to seeing us together. Although we had spoken, not too often, over the telephone, over the last four years, it was incomparable to seeing each other in the flesh.
Chineye took me on a tour of ESUTECH on the third day of my arrival. My uncle, by the way, kept helping out with my admission.
_______
On the fifth night of my arrival, I was lying in bed, in my room, on the verge of drifting off to sleep, when I kind of sensed someone’s presence; that someone was close to me. My eyes shot open and, to my astonishment, I saw Chineye, seated on the bed, beside me. The door to the guest room wasn’t locked. But I still wondered how she got in without me knowing. Did she ghost her way in? She must have been sneakily quiet.
Chineye had on her night gown. And from what I could see, she was naked underneath it. She had on a smile – the same seductive smile she had sent my way the night I got to my uncle’s house.
As I said, I was quite surprised to see her. I glanced at the wall clock opposite my bed. It registered: 1:45AM.
What is she doing here, in my room, at this time of the night?
I had observed that my uncle and his family usually went to bed between 10 and 10:30PM.
“Did I scare you?” my unexpected visitor asked teasingly, on noticing how astounded I was.
I quickly regained composure. “Of course, not. It’s just that I’m...er...”
“Surprised to see me,” Chineye finished for me.
“Er...yes...yes...surprised to see you. So...er...what are you doing here...at this late hour?”
Staring directly into my eyes she said, “Well, I came to check up on you – to know how you’re doing.”
Again, her gaze was piercing – this time, almost intimidating. Quite unexpectedly, I felt my heart racing.
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound as genially as I could.
The penetrating look remained. “Did you read my letter?”
I knew she was referring to the ‘Darling, I love you very much’ letter. But I feigned ignorance. “What...letter are you talking about?” At the same time I wondered why she was bringing up the letter issue now – after four years. I figured she’d forgotten about it – since she never mentioned it anytime we talked on the phone.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Chineye asked, with a touch of anger.
I kept up with the act. “Honestly, Chi, I don’t know anything about any letter.”
Now, with more than a touch of anger, she said, “Don’t tell me you lost the letter...that you didn’t read it.”
I felt it was time to put her out of her misery. I smiled, broadly.
Then she knew I had been kidding with her. She relaxed.
She smiled, warmly. “So...you read it.”
“As a matter of fact I did.” I didn’t tell her, though, what I did to the letter afterwards – since I hadn’t taken it seriously.
Her next statements made me feel more than a bit uncomfortable.
“So...what do you think?”
“Well I...er...” I tried desperately to find the appropriate words, “...it’s natural for family members to feel...er...love for one another.”
She was quiet for almost a minute, but her eyes never left mine. At that stage I became rather concerned that someone might come looking for her – and end up finding her in bed with me.
Then Chineye drew closer to me, her full breasts jiggling slightly under her night gown in the process. “I’m in love with you, Mike.” She had an earnest look on her face. I didn’t doubt her. A painful lump formed in my throat.
“I love you with everything that is within me.”
The lump became bigger.
I was thinking on how best to respond when, to my utter surprise, she swiftly leaned forward, aiming her lips for mine.
Swallowing hard, I caught her, by the shoulders, just in time. “Chi, what are doing?” I asked, alarmed. “Do you realise I’m your cousin – that I’m your close blood?”
“I know.” Her voice was clearly laced with indifference. “But, Mike, I can’t help how I feel about you. I just can’t. I’ve been in love with you for so long...it’s driving me crazy. Don’t you see? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me? Am I not pretty enough for you?”
I knew I had to be very careful with my answer. “Chi, I...do love you...but not the way you want...not like this. We’re too related...too close to have passionate feelings for each other...it’s not right...”
“I don’t care if it’s right or not!” she said, cutting me off, her voice a bit high. With both palms I gestured to her to keep her voice down.
She did. “I’m madly in love with you, that’s all I know,” she continued, her tone lowered. She looked and sounded quite determined.
I tried another approach. “Chi, what you feel for me is not love...it’s...it’s infatuation. You’re totally infatuated with me.”
She laughed quietly. “Mike, I might be young. But I’m not naive. And I’m not stupid. I know what infatuation is. I know how I feel. I know what I feel. My heart beats intensely for you. I love you.” She tried to kiss me again, but I held her back.
Clearly, I could see she wasn’t in her right frame of mind. I had to end this lunacy fast, before it took a turn for the worse. “Look, Chi, it’s late...and moreover, someone might walk in on us, and get the wrong idea of things.”
That seemed to jolt her back to her senses.
She rose slowly from the bed and sashayed over to the door. She leaned and placed her right ear against it, listening for any movements outside. Hearing none, and just before she turned the doorknob, she turned and blew me what I supposed was a goodnight kiss. She unlocked the door, slightly and cautiously poked her head out, glanced furtively along both sides of the passageway, stepped out of my room, and closed the door behind her.
I spent several minutes trying to wrap my head around all that had just happened. What I initially felt was a mere joke had apparently turned out to be quite serious. Admittedly, I really loved and cared about Chineye. And I must confess, if she hadn’t been my close cousin I would, most likely, have fallen in love with her. But then, she was my close cousin – and that, without question, ruled out any form of intimate feelings between us. However, it was obvious Chineye wasn’t interested in keeping to the rule. I, on the other hand, was.
I was still mulling over my unexpected visitor, and the things she had said to me, when I unconsciously drifted off to sleep.


Chapter Five will be uploaded on Tuesday. Your feedbacks are welcomed. Thanks.

wot a nice story we hv hr...I am fully following...

CHAPTER FIVE


THE FOLLOWING DAY, in the evening, I was standing on the balcony, leaning against its railing, admiring the beautiful scenery before me, when I heard someone approach me from behind. I turned to look. It was Chineye. I hadn’t seen her all day, because she went for lectures – the last of which was responsible for her coming home late.
She came and stood beside me on the balcony. She greeted me, quietly. I returned the gesture. She looked solemn, and was somewhat uncomfortable – or to put it better, embarrassed. We both admired the gorgeous panorama before us, in silence, for some time. My uncle’s house is situated in one of the best locations in the state.
I glanced covertly at my friend. I could see she wanted to say something, but didn’t exactly know how to begin. So, I decided to help her.
I said, “Chi, don’t worry about last night...I’m not, in any way, angry with you.” That was the push she needed. She apologised for her indecent behaviour the previous night, stating she didn’t know what came over her. She pleaded with me to forgive her. I told her I’d already done that, which was true.
She asked if we were still friends. I assured her we still were. At this she smiled, brightened visibly, and narrated how her day went. In the end she asked if I wanted to play a game of Chess. To convince her I held nothing against her I agreed. We played the game, thrice. And, as usual, she won each time.
Our friendship went on smoothly – having cast aside the dark clouds of abominable intimacy that had threatened it.
A couple of days later, my uncle presented me with bittersweet news: his friend at ESUTECH had, regrettably, informed him that he couldn’t help me process my admission to study Mechanical Engineering. But, he could help me get in to study Chemistry – since I did Science-oriented subjects in my Nov/Dec GCE. The ball was now in my court. I didn’t spend a second considering the Chemistry option. It was Mechanical Engineering or nothing else. In fact, I was willing to sit for another JAMB examination – just to achieve my aim.
Fortunately, my father and my uncle, unlike other members of my family, stood on my side of the fence. My stay in Enugu was no longer necessary. I had to return to Lagos. Chineye, of course, was saddened by the unanticipated development. But my mind was already made up – and no one, not even her, was going to change it.
Two days to my departure from Enugu, my uncle and his wife travelled to Asaba, for the burial ceremony of a close family friend. They planned to spend a few days there.
A night to my departure, around 11PM, after a refreshingly cold shower, I, dressed only in shorts, was about to climb into bed, and sleep off, when I heard a soft knock on the door. Without really giving it much thought I told whoever it was to come in.
The door opened and Chineye walked in.
Again, I was astonished. What is she looking for this time?
She was clad in a pink, silk robe.
For some strange reason I felt uneasy. Very uneasy.
But before I could utter a word, she held out her laced fingers in a pleading gesture. “Please, Mike, don’t be offended...there’s something I need to tell you...it’s urgent.”
She now turned, locked and bolted the door behind her.
What on earth does she want to tell me behind a locked door? My uneasiness shot through the roof.
In what I can only describe as a split second, Chineye disrobed, and stood completely naked, all her natural glory displayed, before me.
I was distracted for an instant, just an instant, which was all the time she needed to close the distance between us. It seemed she floated, like some resolute spirit, across the room, towards me with celerity. She literarily threw herself at me. The impact knocked me slightly backward. She held me in a vice-like embrace – simultaneously planting her hot and demanding lips on mine...her ready tongue plunging deep into my mouth...tasting, searching, and probing.
I tried to push her away, but she fought back, clinging on – utterly determined not to let go of me. She was purring like a cat on heat; and she kept muttering, at intervals, “Oh I want you...I want you so bad...I want you inside me...deep inside...please, Mike, take me...take me...and don’t stop...”
I tried to push her away again, but I really couldn’t. Her grip was extraordinarily strong.
“Make love to me...” she blurted out, her voice husky with emotion. It sounded more like an order.
At that point, the feel of her soft, delicate and nude body against me, the intoxicating smell of the perfume on her smooth skin, and the deliciousness of her hot lips and tongue, had to a great extent clouded my reasoning, and eroded the firm foundation of my self-control.
Chineye, apparently, sensed this, as she began to feverishly run her hands all over my partially nude body – drawing me deeper into the abyss of ecstasy.
Then she inserted her right hand into my shorts and, with her fingers gently and deftly massaged the shaft of my private member, which, against my will, was already throbbing hard, at full attention. I felt all resistance and logic go out the window.
I lifted Chineye up, and she straddled me, firmly wrapping her legs around me. I carried her to the bed, where I carefully positioned her, and together we rode the thunderous waves of pleasure. It was simply explosive...so explosive that we did it again.
Some minutes after our second round of illicit engagement, Chineye climbed down from the bed, and went and retrieved her robe, which was still lying on the floor where she’d dropped it earlier. She slipped it on, held it in place with its cord, and came back to the bed where I was lying lazily and observing her. She leaned down, and we kissed for almost a minute; lips over lips, tongue over tongue.
After the intense kiss, she smiled – a satisfied smile – and said, “I really enjoyed myself, Mike. Thank you very much. Have a safe trip back to Lagos.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I merely smiled and nodded.
Chineye straightened up, turned around, went to the door, unbolted it, unlocked it, and listened closely for movements outside. Satisfied, she opened the door, glanced furtively along both sides of the passageway, walked out, and shut the door behind her.
After a satisfying stretch I got down from the bed, went to the bathroom, and took another cool shower. After that I came back to the room, fell on the bed, and dozed off. Truthfully, I had thoroughly enjoyed myself. I guessed a part of me had always lusted after my cousin.
I felt no guilt or regret...not until a couple of days later. But, somehow, I was able to put the entire unholy affair behind me.
At least that was what I thought.



Chapter Six, the final chapter, will be uploaded on Thursday. Your feedbacks are welcomed. Thanks.

today is Thursday.........am waiting ooo