To Mmachi, the grass-smeared ground smelled of dryness, rusty and hate. Earlier, she felt the surge to avoid the secluded path. But needed to get fastly to Obiora, her boyfriend, who texted her that his parents were out for a conference outside the campus — Mmam, parents out. Who want some smooch?— a smile eluded her after she read the tersed text, her parents were out too. The fast was empty. Moments with Obiora, to her, were mysteries. She learnt, explore and practise things she never imagined. Last time, he had given her a huge cucumber, she stared and wondered what the green thing was for, until he asked her to imagine the cucumber as his thing and, asked her to suck it— she had laughed herself out— after, she told him, she would rather eat his thing than eat the cucumber. And she did, then spent the day spitting into his sink in the bathroom. Days later, she did them with ease, without feeling nauseated afterwards.

She never liked the quiet, narrow road hemmed by unpainted buildings and bushes. Nor liked the three strange boys walking close, behind her. Obiora had told her not to use the empty path. Now, she wished she listened. She instinctively, began to walk fast. To walk her plight out. But the boys were faster, they were stronger. Her arms and feet hurt from the taut grasped of the hands on them. She wanted to shout, but couldn’t find the energy. Her mouth was gag. Her dress raised to her stomach. Her back hurt from the scratchy grasses. Her eyes were close, because of over closed, because of interminable gush of tears. She needed to open them, to see the monstrous faces, the devils. They were tight, and when she struggled to open them. They met something firm, strong and hard. It was the first boy. He had a smirk, and rubbed himself with his saliva. Then, he hit. It appeared blocked. And he smiled at the two hurting her hands. “She is pure.” —she thought, yes I am pure. Do not do it. Let me go— she thought about Obiora, if it was wise to think about him in a horrible scenario like this. But he has asked for it countless times. They had done just touches and kisses. It was something she kept for until marriage— then another hit. It was the second boy. His hips was moving slowly. And in sluice of mintues, he was down. She wished the last boy would say no. That their act was wrong. The way he stared at her. At her exhausted face. She was sure he would not do it. She could see the sympathy lurked in his eyes. But she was wrong. He was crass. He fumbled swiftly on his trousers and pulled them down. He has an erection even before she could remember. She stared at him. But he looked away, went between her legs and moved his dark buttocks. She looked him, and hate the other two but hate him most. He was the longest. She didn’t know how long. She slept. Then, heard some snores. And wondered if they slept with her. She woke up and saw Obiora at her side. Snoring. She was on his bed. Mystified. She tapped him.
“Did we do it? She asked, staring at her leg.

Half awake. Obiora said. “Yes. We did. You were sweet.”



Story sorce: http://charlesdonaldfreeman.com.ng/surreal/

Hmmmm

Nice read. Fast paced straight to the point. A few grammatical errors here and there but story and writer got potential

wow, very nice piece and really creative!
I luv ur creativity but mind the little errors

internetpo:
Nice read. Fast paced straight to the point. A few grammatical errors here and there but story and writer got potential

thanks so much.. I would keep improving

joromi36:
wow, very nice piece and really creative!

I luv ur creativity but mind the little errors

ok thanks so much.. Would definitely look into it