“It is not possible. You have to marry me.”

“That will not be possible. This is a big taboo. Our kids can die suddenly. Try to understand “

“Please don’t give me that, I just can’t share you with another woman. You are the only man I have ever known. You are not just my brother, but also my love- the father of my kids”

What started as a gentle conversation was gradually heating up. Chinedu, lover and father of my two kids had woken up on a sunny Sunday morning, tapped me and explained that he wanted to get married to someone else. Chinedu was not just my lover, but also my brother. As a matter of fact, Chinedu was my twin brother. Yes! Born of the same father and mother. It is not funny but many things happened.

If the tragic incident of our father’s death two decades ago had battered us, the untimely death of our mother some two weeks after totally shattered us. Our dreams. Our hopes. Our aspirations. When Daddy died, we were both 21, battling the stressful admission process. Chinedu was getting ready to resume at a prestigious university in the east. Our parents’ death came like a whirlwind. It stopped Chinedu in his academic tracks.

With a sister to take care of and no one to lean on, Chinedu and I decided to leave the city. We moved into a village in the east and decided to take up farming. This was only an innocent attempt to salvage our lives and keep family bond together. Unknown to us, in a matter of months, we would be feeding fat on sacrilege.

Our farming itinerary had us on the farm at dawn, work, cook, and rest a little throughout the day before retiring to our home at night. Chinedu was a hard worker and a doting brother. He ensured I had the best of food; bought me new clothes and even saved on my behalf as he worked harder.

This made me open up to him on every matter. Aside from being a good brother, he was a woman slasher. Ah! Chi bobo loved women. Having gained admission into the university for a course as prestigious as English language, Chinedu was an unrepentant show boy. As he wooed young ladies in the village, he never ceased to show them his literate skills. He even brandished his admission letter to the very stubborn ones. Did it work? Many times, it did.

Chinedu, with my consent, brought girls home and fvcked them mercilessly. I was used to hearing the grunts, the sighs, sibilations and eructation of sheer pleasure from the girls. I heard the spanks and the spats; the thrusts and the slaps over the wall.

My brother was a village p0rn star without the camera.

And that night came. It was not out of the blue. Chinedu and I had decided to stay back on a Sunday to have enough rest. Subsequent days were for harvests. We needed all the energy we could muster.

“Chi bobo, I have a question ooooo”

“Anything for you, Chinwe baby”

“Do you know I am still a v!rgin?”

“Ehn Ehn..Yes now. Is that not how it should be?

“Noo. But you have been sleeping with girls of my age ooo. I even want to see your p€nis. Show me”, I spoke out, surprised at my confidence

“Ah, you want to see your brother’s something”

I didn’t allow him land before I moved forward and unclasped his wrapper.

“This your p£nis is big oooo,”, I marveled out loud.
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Ada bekee and her fake stories sef. Mtchew

Nonexisting:
Ada bekee and her fake stories sef. Mtchew

It is called prose. Read and enjoy.