SAINTS, SINNERS AND STAG (18+) PART 1
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‘Wait!!!!’ Segi yelled, trying to push him away,
bucking her hips so that she could dislodge
his head, but he tapped her thighs, silently
asking her to keep still as his tongue
delivered its swift ministrations down there,
at the very core of her being. A long swish
and then tiny flicks at the same lazy but firm
pace, dancing to the rhythm of the beats
playing only in his head. She did not know
how he did it, but she had never come
across anyone who could give head the way
Keppy could.
She knew it would happen soon, could feel
the build up and as the buzz in her veins.
Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh.. soon, almost. She
was coming, coming, com…. All of a sudden,
it stopped as she crashed into alert
wakefulness. What had happened? Why had
it stopped? The s£nsat!ons in her K!ttyC@t
had so felt real, as though someone had just
touched her there. Sh*t. She had really been
enjoying that dream. Why had she woken up
right at the edge of her delicious come? Why
had she roused?
Before the question left her head, she felt the
kick again, this time, slightly firmer than the
first. ’S.H, please I need some drinking water’
said the hoarse voice, heavy from sleep.
How about you get up from bed and get your
own damned water. Who wakes another
person for Sh*t like this? ‘Okay D.H, I’m
coming.’ she said, as she groped for her
phone in the dark, hoping to use it’s torch as
illumination to the kitchen.
She shuffled, out of the room, irritated that
she had been roused from her delicious
dream, asked to perform a task that he could
have done himself. She could still feel the
tingling between her thighs. ‘Anyway’, she
thought, ‘perhaps I will score some points
from the Almighty for this, after all, we have
been told to submit to our husbands.’ she
said, slightly guilty because she ought to be
so spirit filled that she should really not have
these evil, yet so enjoyable dreams.
She was certain that none of the other
women at the Pastors Wives Fellowship,
where she was a new member, would be
having these type of dreams. Many times, it
was really hard being a Pastor’s wife. She
was still not sure she was prepared for this.
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She had first met her husband, Derin Hughes,
a few years ago at their NYSC Camp in Oyo
State.
He had been withdrawn and sulky in the first
days of Camp because his aunty had
promised him a Lagos posting.
Unfortunately, the plan had not materialised
and Oyo had come a close second.
Segilola on the other hand, had been excited
to be in the Oyo Camp because one of her
older male ‘friends’ had informed her that he
had personally removed her name from the
Zamfara State List. So she had been very
excited to be in Oyo State, not so far from
home.
Segi and Derin had been in the same platoon
and she had been drawn to him when they
had been conscripted into the Drama Group,
alongside a few other too-eager-to-be-in-the-
NYSC programme guys. Segi had liked the
aloof air Derin had walked around with, like
he was better than the rest of them. She had
set out to be friends with him and the rest
was history.
Derin had ticked all the right boxes for Segi.
He was posh, seemed to have some money
and had a lot of prospects. He had studied
Economics at the University of Lagos. He
could be considered a big boy, he even had a
car back home. Derin had told her he lived in
the posh Lekki area of Lagos.
She had been very enamoured with him on
camp had worked on being friends with him,
they had kept that friendship beyond the
three week orientation camp after which he
had gone back to his business in Lagos as
he had agreed to a ‘settlement’ with the
Coorodinators whilst she stayed back to
ensure she was posted to Ibadan.
They had enjoyed many long, mid night calls
and although she had rarely seen Derin in
that service year, she knew they were in
some sort of relationship, so she kept her
‘runs’ to a minimum. Derin was the one she
had resolved to settle down with. She had
believed everything he told her and it was not
until it was time to meet his family for the
introduction that things became a little
clearer, but it was too late then because she
had been two months pregnant. It was then
that she realised that the ‘Lekki’ he referred
to was actually past Ajah and his real car
was an old banger. There was so much
history that she did not want to dwell on.
Back to the present, she could hear the
cockroaches as they scurried for cover, the
irritating sound of their hairy legs as they
crawled on nylon bags was enough to send
her running, but she did not want him to
begin grumbling again, so she braced up and
did a cursory sweep of the kitchen with the
light from her phone torch. Once she was
certain that there were no roaches in sight,
she cleaned a tray and served the water in a
tall glass cup. She was not surprised that it
was not cold. There was never any light here,
anyway.
‘God bless you S.H, you are indeed a woman
after God’s heart’ he said as he gulped the
water down in a rush ‘Ha, its not cold?’ he
asked as he dropped the glass back on the
tray.
Why should it be, do you have a standby
generator? ‘But you know there has been no
Nepa since yesterday morning’ she
responded, still irritated at the intrusion to
her slumber. She had checked the time and it
was 1.15a.m. In a few hours, she knew he
would begin his morning prayers, which
would disturb her sleep again for Derin’s
prayers were sometimes very loud.
‘Okay, let us sleep my dear’ he said, patting
the space beside him on the bed, silently
informing her that there was no need to
return the tray right now.
‘Let me quickly return the tray’ she said,
hoping to sideline his obvious intentions.
When her husband pat the bed like that, it
only meant one thing and she was not ready
for a repeat of last night’s experience. It had
been the same story all over again. Her
spiritual husband had come before she had
even begun to get wet. The worst part was
that he expected her to be grateful for his
‘ministrations’. She was not ready to be
disillusioned again this night and so, she
stayed back to wash the cup and tray, she
also refilled the bottle from the water
dispenser. She stayed back until she
suspected that he should have sifted back
into sleep before she went back into the
room and sat gently on the edge of the bed
to analyse her dream.
She knew from the many conversations they
had in the Women’s Fellowship that there
was such a thing as ‘Spirit Husbands’. Was it
possible that she, the praying wife of a
Pastor could be visited by a Spirit Husband?
Even if her prayers were not strong enough,
was she not sleeping on the same bed with a
spirit filled man? What could the problem
then be? To be honest she thought it is not
as though I really mind, is it? this Keppy guy
brings it on every time. It seems to be the
most delicious s*x I have had in ages. She
wondered if it was a pure coincidence that
Keppy came only when she had unsatisfied
urges from the rubbish performance her
husband gave.
‘But wait, I have never seen his face in the
dream, so how do I know his name?’ she
wondered. ‘Keppy…. Keppy… do I know
anybody that goes by that name?’ she
searched her mind and realised that there
was nobody she knew by that name. She
cast a glance over her shoulder to confirm
that her husband had slept even deeper and
decided to shelve the worries for now. She
needed the deep bliss of sleep. As she lay
her body on the bed, she heard his hoarse
voice, gruff from sleep, ’S.H, oya come to
papa’.
Segilola rolled her eyes and conceded, aware
of the fact that even indomie noodles cooked
slower than her hubby’s come

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Respect Stag for once

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