My Encounter With An African Size Queen.


Three years ago when I was a college student in Lagos, West Africa, I sat in a cheap restaurant on campus one evening quietly enjoying my dinner when Tracy walked in. Instantly, all eyes were on her as she sauntered across the diner.

Tracy had broad hips and a fat ass that was very much emphasized that evening in the tight jeans pants she wore. But it wasn’t just for her endowment that she attracted such instant attention as she walked into the restaurant. She was the daughter of a Nigerian multi-millionaire and easily one of the richest babes on campus. Talk of movers and shakers on campus, she’s one of them and not a few students would want to be in her shoes.

She ignored everybody and walked in my direction with a smile on her face. When she got to my table, she called my name and asked how I was doing.

“I’m fine,” I responded wondering if this was a case of mistaken identity. I was a poor guy on campus and by no means in the circle of friends that Tracy kept. We were not in the same department either and our paths had not crossed before. So how come she walked straight to me to say hi and even mentioned my name. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” She asked politely still smiling.

“Please do,” I responded flashing a smile. “The pleasure is mine.”

She pulled a chair and sat opposite me, still beaming with smiles. “How is the campaign in your department going?” she asked. “I’ve seen your campaign posters.”

“Oh great,” I responded. “Everything is going on fine. I’m contesting for Fin. Sec. (Financial Secretary) and so far, I’m unopposed. Next tomorrow is deadline for nomination and if by then nobody comes up to contest with me, I’ll have automatic ticket. Notwithstanding, I’m putting all efforts in my campaign.”

“Don’t worry whether you’re opposed or not, you’re going to win. I have lots of friends in your department and everybody I’ve spoken with told me they would vote for you. It looks like you’re very popular in your department especially with the girls.”

“Me popular?” I asked laughing. “I’m not popular; I’m just an average guy trying to exercise his civic rights.”

Unmindful of the inquisitive stares at us from other dinners, Tracy continued to chat with me and I was surprised that she seemed to know so much about me. I tried to find out from her why she was interested in me and she explained that she saw my photographs on my campaign posters and just liked me and wanted to know more about me.

Well, I didn’t totally buy her explanation but decided not to push her further. I was convinced that with time I would know her real intention.

By the time we left the restaurant that evening, we had exchanged phone numbers, became friends on Facebook and followed each other on Twitter. And in the next few days, she was hanging out with me on campus and tongues were wagging that I was her new boyfriend.

I was rather uncomfortable with the development. Like I said, I was not convinced that she was hanging out with me just because she saw my photographs on my campaign posters and simply liked me. I felt there was more to the sudden friendship. Why me when she had a lot of rich, handsome dudes at her beck and call she could pick on for a date?

However, my friends felt I was being ridiculous. The girl was in love, they concluded and I should consider myself lucky that I was her object of desire. All I needed to do was hit on her and possibly have a chance to access her father’s wealth. Well, I told them I wasn’t a gold digger and hitting on rich girls for cash wasn’t part of my resume.

Anyway, Tracy didn’t leave me guessing for long about what she wanted from me. She offered to take me out one evening and we drove in her Aston Martin sports car to a five star hotel in downtown Lagos and checked into a luxurious suite. We drank expensive wine, ate chocolate and ice cream as slow music played in the background. The ambience was good and the wine relaxed my nerves and I was mentally and physically ready for whatever surprises she had up her sleeve to throw at me.

Before long, Tracy asked me, in a rather commanding tone, to stand up and stand in front of her. I was taken aback but I stood up from the couch were I sat with her and stood in front of her like a slave before her master.

“Drop your drink,” she ordered and I put away the glass of wine I was holding and stood hands akimbo before her.

Tracy looked at me, scanning me from head to toe, and then a mischievous grin with a tinge of passion to it spread across her face. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me, take off your clothes… UnCloth for me.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, take off everything… No more questions just do what I said.”

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