The school bell rang, and Evans promptly closed the thick, cream coloured pages of the novel he had been reading—better still, just some selected sentences. Evans had scanned the pages in search of paragraphs marked with red ink. Obviously, someone who had read it before him had taken an extra time to mark those paragraphs—all erotic. The last sentence he had read was: Her moan deepened, and his thrusts too.



Evans pulled the zip of his black school bag, and in went the novel. His shoulders felt the weight of the bag after he had secured its content.

Time to go for the kill, Evans muttered. He stood from his seat and adjusted his trouser, pulling it down, an inch below his hips. It had become a common ritual each time he stood up; a ritual he would deem complete after he pushed back the large bump that always formed at the crotch-point of his hurriedly tailored trouser. Evans, for a brief moment, observed the chaos and noise around him. The final bell for the day had been rung, and the teachers would hardly care about the noise. The perfume of different brands of cheap talcum powder filled the air.

Evans walked towards his best friend, Emeka, who stood close to the blackboard. Emeka stood still as Gladys applied white powder on his face, while Memunat held up a small mirror.



“Chap, I’m off.” Evans said when he got close to the blackboard—and after he had gotten Emeka’s attention.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Emeka asked.

“No.”

“I could wait for you, so we go home together.” The girls who stood by his side did not seem pleased with that comment, and it showed on their faces. It meant they had to wait too.



“Don’t worry. Just go home.” Evans said, and turned to face the exit door. He felt a hand on his shoulder after three steps.

Are you sure you’re okay?” Emeka asked. “You look scared.”

“I’m fine.” Evans said in response. He knew he had to leave immediately, else his plan might fail. “I have to go, Mrs. Bassey would not be pleased if I show up late.”



At the mention of Mrs. Bassey, Emeka let go. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“But, why after school hours?” Emeka called out.

Evans just shook his head, an indication that he had no idea. He hurried out of the class, and down the stairs, until he was alone in the biology laboratory. Evans wiped his sweat off his face. He knew the weight his thoughts placed on him, more than the speed at which he had run, was responsible for the sweat. He was sure Imabong would appear soon. He found a broom at a corner of the laboratory, and started to sweep—anything to give as an excuse for his sweat when Imabong showed up. As he swept, he imagined what it would feel like to hold Imabong’s large breasts with both hands. He thought of Imabong standing close, with her large eyes staring at him, and he cringed, a bit. Emeka had described those eyes as sexy, but to him, they were just—large.



Evans raised his head just in time to see Emeka, through the slightly open window, walk past the coconut tree at the middle of the school compound, heading for the gate. Gladys by his right, and Memunat by his left. There was an addition, the shy but pretty Bimpe who walked behind the trio.

Evans resumed his self-imposed task, with the events of his first day in Michael Adeshina Comprehensive College in mind. It had also been Emeka’s first. The two new boys who were admitted rather late in the term were given a seat in front of the class, and a friendship had begun. They had become best friends after a fight and some shared secrets.

Evans heaved as he thought of a more recent event. Emeka had been the one who had conceived the idea of what he was about to do. He felt guilt run through him knowing Emeka may likely never get to know about his attempt. Evans had no doubt that Emeka believed his claim that as the newly appointed laboratory prefect, Mrs. Bassey had asked him to wait behind to assist her re-arrange the laboratory. He was also sure that Emeka had not noticed that Mrs. Bassey had left early, though the Biology laboratory had remained open. Evans was sure Imabong, Mrs. Bassey’s daughter, was also ignorant of this fact.


Evans heard footsteps and he swallowed. He turned to face Imabong standing at the door. Her face showed her surprise seeing Evans alone.



“Where’s my mother?” Imabong asked as she walked in. Her tone failed to show that Evans was a.... Continue reading: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss/

EPISODE 2

Evans had his eyes shut as Imabong’s lips touched his, and it remained so only for an extra second. In that brief moment, he had recalled a sentence from the novel in his bag; a sentence marked with red ink: Amy let her lips linger on his, and Jôse fed on the warmth and love.



Evans considered the open door, and it reminded him that Koboko, as the Vice-principal was ordinarily called, was usually among the last to leave the school each day—in his old Volkswagen car. It also reminded him that Imabong had omitted Koboko from the list of those who would stay a reasonable distance from the biology labouratory. Evans pulled from her grip, with an added reason—Imabong’s lips had a terrible taste. Evans was sure he would throw up if Imabong came that close again.

“I suggest you start sweeping now, or I’ll do it myself.” he said, his voice—a bit—shaky. Evans was certain he would have preferred the words, ‘Don’t bother sweeping, just go.’

“Maybe you are just a virgin.” Imabong said coldly. The stress in her sentence fell on the word—just. Evans quickly figured that virginity would be a state to be despised, if Imabong was given the task to set a new order. He marveled at her confidence. Evans could bet on anything, being fully persuaded, that Imabong had had sex in school. “Tell me the truth,” she continued, “have you had sex before?” Imabong looked straight at him.



Evans returned her gaze, and said, “I’m not a virgin.” Imabong smiled. Evans did not. He made himself believe that he had lied. But in fairness, Evans could not exactly pick the description that fitted him best—a virgin or not. He was not sure the extent a boy could go before he actually lost it. A thought crept in, one he always wished never happened. He promptly pushed the thought away.

Imabong edged close. Then a step closer. And finally, her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hands found rest on his chest—just a little space, on each side, that her large breasts were willing to share. Evans stood still, for a moment, expectant. He smiled, realising he had expected too much from himself. Imabong smiled too, but for a different reason. And her hands started a slow trail down his chest, reaching for the bump on the crotch point of his trouser. Evans took steps backwards; he knew that Imabong had mistakenly taken the bump for an erect penis.

“I’m off.” He announced, picking up his bag from where he had left it. As Evans walked to the door, he reassured himself that it was the right time to leave. He did not mind what Imabong would think of him, conceivably she might rate him high—if none had turned her down before. But, what occupied him most was the knowledge that he had prevented Imabong from reaching the emptiness in the extended crotch point of his trouser.

“Wait,” Imabong called out. “At least let’s go home together.”



Evans did not consider the request. He had reached a conclusion before Imabong was done speaking. “I’ve already wasted more time than I anticipated.” Evans said. He remembered the ritual with his trousers, and his hands made the required adjustments. Before he made an exit, Evans said, “Here’s the padlock, the key is with your mother.”

As Evans stepped out of the labouratory, he made a quick search, trying to find the lanky Vice-principal. He only saw the Vice-principal’s car under the coconut tree. Then he saw Emeka approaching. Evans swallowed and quickened his steps, trying to bridge the gap between them. He was sure he had earlier seen Emeka walk past the gate.What are you doing here?” Evans asked.



“I forgot my chemistry textbook.” Emeka responded. His words reminded Evans that the chemistry teacher had given instruction that the assignment must be submitted before... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-love/

interesting

EPISODE 3

Evans stirred, then he stretched, and finally he opened his eyes to the new day. He saw his school bag on the reading table, and he remembered the novel in it. Evans also remembered a paragraph from its fourth chapter: Amy spread her legs a little further, ready for the deep thrusts that would follow; she knew Jôse was about to spurt.



Evans felt the sheets, searching for a damp spot. He searched, but found none. He had to search, for a damp spot on the sheets had become an almost every-morning discovery, the evidence of a spontaneous orgasm. Evans rolled on the bed, certain that he had slept alone. His elder brother, Jerry, had marked another night of faithfulness to his newly-adopted practice, which involved sleeping on the three-seater sofa in the living room. Previously, Jerry had always returned to the room each night after watching a late night movie, but in the last three months, he had preferred the sofa. Evans could swear that Jerry’s action was deliberate. Nothing else, Jerry would leave the sofa and walk to the room, and the bed, once it was five-forty each morning, knowing that Evans, whose day normally began at five-thirty, would be awake, and out of the bed.

Their mother, Nneoma, had been vocal with her displeasure. Then, when the practice was yet new, it was common for Jerry to drift off to sleep, leaving the television on. It was also common for Evans to be awakened when a row started between mother and son.

“I’m twenty now, I’m not a kid anymore.” Jerry would remind their mother. “Find a suitable means to pass your message across, stop shouting at me.” Jerry’s voice, most times, sounded louder.



“We would not be having this conversation if you were responsible enough to act like every other twenty year old.” And she would continue, telling—same tales—of what others had achieved by the time they were past the teen years.

Whenever they were not loud enough to awaken Evans from his sleep, Jerry surely would not miss the opportunity to tell him they just had a brief argument, as Evans would be awakened by the bang of the door after he had walked into the room. These days, their mother would rather let her eldest child sleep while she switched the television off.

Evans tried to stand and he felt an ache in his head. Evans reached for the torch that lay on the floor, close to the bed. He turned it on, directing the light to the clock on the wall. The clock revealed that it was twenty-five minutes before six, and he had slept for less than five hours. It also revealed that he had only an hour fifty-five minutes before the deadline for the submission of his chemistry assignment. Evans was glad he had fetched enough water the previous evening. He only had to brush his teeth, take his bath and eat his usual breakfast of tea with bread.

Evans picked his toothbrush from the rack where he normally kept it—except the days he forgot it in the bathroom. He walked to the door, heading for the kitchen where the toothpaste was stationed, before he would follow the path to the bathroom, to brush his teeth and to take his bath.



“Ruth,” Evans called, after he had tried to open the bathroom door. “hurry up” he begged. He had felt an urgent need to urinate, so he had walked to the bathroom first. Evans then walked to the kitchen to get the toothpaste, hopeful that at his return, his younger sister would be out of the bathroom.

“Mummy, good morning.” he greeted. She was pouring hot water into a flask. Nneoma was fully dressed, which meant she was almost set to leave for her shop at Idumota market.

“Good morning.” she responded. In the past, she would have added, ‘how was your night?’ These days, she did not find it necessary. The responsibility she bore, since her husband died, had made her loose some of the niceties that were formerly hers. Jerry also made her burden heavy. Years back, Jerry had been her favourite—unsaid, but evident. Nneoma’s love for Jerry had grown after a prophet who had been invited to their church had later....... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-epsiode-3/

EPISODE 4

“Mr. Obi said he will delay a bit. He is still marking our assignment.” Bimpe, who had gone to call the chemistry teacher, announced. “In the meantime,” she continued, “y’all are required to keep yourselves busy with your textbooks; exercise thirteen, page two hundred and seventy-four.” Some hissed, and a few searched their bags for their textbook. Those who were indifferent comprised the majority. Evans continued with the novel he had been reading, before Bimpe’s interruption. He flipped a page, searching for the next paragraph marked with red ink. The new page had three paragraphs marked with red ink, and Evans started with the first: Jôse’s cock leaped each time her lips touched him. He felt his huge, erect member; and his desire grew. Amy saw the plea in his eyes, and she made his cock leap one last time before she took all of him in her mouth.



“Evans,” he heard, and he looked up. Ijeoma Nweze stood quite close, and Evans wondered why she had raised her voice to call his name. “I’ve been standing here, and you did not even notice my presence.” she said. As usual, it did not require more than one sentence for one to recognize that Ijeoma had spent most of her life in the village. “Ehn, what are you reading?” Ijeoma asked. She tried to reach for the novel, but Evans quickly moved the book. She hissed before she delivered her message. “Mr. Hassan wants to see you in his office, now.”

“Mr. Hassan?”

“Yes. Or, you don’t know him again?”



“Why?” Evans asked.

“When you get there, you can ask him that question. And others too, because I know you never run short of questions to ask.”

Evans stared at her, giving Ijeoma the false impression that her words had gotten to him. On the contrary, he was pleased. Evans had engaged her in a conversation just to buy himself some time—enough time to return to a flaccid state.

“Mr. Hassan said you should come immediately.”



“What’s your problem this morning?”

“My problem, abi? Don’t worry, when you get to Mr. Hassan’s office you will know that you are the one who had a problem all along.”

Evans stood to his feet. He also made his usual adjustment with ....... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episode-4/

EPISODE 5
Nneoma held a large calculator with her left hand, while her right middle finger went from one button to another, in her bid to ascertain the accuracy of the figures Margaret had summed up. Nneoma had been slow to trust Margaret whom a friend had brought to her, as most shop owners would. But in time, she had come to trust the new salesgirl. Now, three years down the line, some customers do find it hard to believe that Margaret is not Nneoma’s daughter. Nneoma only thought it wise to ascertain the figures because the profit, as the book revealed, seemed overstated. Though as she pressed the buttons, Nneoma prayed that she would arrive at same total figure.



“Twenty five thousand four hundred,” Nneoma said softly as she added the last figure from the list of sales. “Chai!” she exclaimed. Nneoma was greatly pleased as the total figure she had gotten matched Margaret’s.

“Nne, kedu?” Nneoma heard as she gathered her financial records. It seemed to her like, for a moment, her heart had skipped a beat. As always, Izuchukwu’s smile was infectious, and she smiled in return. Nneoma always looked forward to Izuchukwu’s occasional visits, though she would never fail to remind herself that she must hide her joy.

Her throat felt so dry that she had to cough. Then she managed to say, “Izu, welcome.”



“Thank you.” Izuchukwu said, a concerned look had quickly replaced his smile. “I jikwa ahụ—are you well?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” he said, and his smile returned. “And how are the children?” he asked, same time helping himself on the bench Nneoma sat. Nneoma moved to the other end of the bench, creating too much space between them. Izuchukwu was not pleased, but he tried not to show it.

“They are fine. The two younger ones have gone to school.”



The pair sat silently for a while. When Nneoma coughed again, Izuchukwu maximized the opportunity. “It seems you have cough.” he said.

“My throat just feels so dry. And when I cough I feel pain in my chest.”

“Ndo—sorry.” he said, moving closer to Nneoma. She did not move this time. “Have you taken any medicine?”



“Yes, I have.”

“Sorry. You will be fine soon.”

“Thank you.” Nneoma said. Then she cleared her throat before she called out to Margaret who had previously been attending to a ....... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episode-5/

EPISODE 6

Evans lay on his stomach, supporting both elbows on a pillow, while his hands held up the novel he had been reading. Having read all ink-marked paragraphs in the four hundred and two page novel, Evans knew the pages that offered a more detailed obscene adult content. His hands quickly made the search each time he thought of a relevant erotic content. Evans favoured the paragraphs where Amy, the main character, had sex with Jôse.



Evans smiled as he remembered a particular episode. “Page one-nine-five,” he muttered softly, and in few seconds he had opened the page. Evans frowned, realising it was not the page he had in mind. Still he started with the words of the first paragraph marked with red ink: Jôse gently slid his hardness into her wet, inviting core. She endured few deep thrusts before he pulled out most of his erect cock, leaving only his cone-shaped glans to caress the walls of her cunt. Amy laid on her back, both arms thrown apart. Her eyes shut. The only activity she allowed were the repeated circles her right toes made on the sheets and the moan that occasionally escaped her heavily painted lips. Jôse . . .

Evans heard the very-familiar squeak, and he turned his head, in shock, towards the door. As Nneoma walked into the room, Evans quickly slid the novel under the pillow. His biology textbook which he had left untouched in the last hour he pulled close.

“You’ve not slept yet?”



“No. I just finished studying. I have a biology test tomorrow morning.”

Nneoma nodded. “Did Jerry leave his phone at home?” she asked. “I’ve dialed his number repeatedly, but it goes off without any response.”

It was not uncommon for Evans to maintain an erect penis long after the source of his arousal had been taken away. Even the presence of his mother did not aid a quick transition to a flaccid state. And his shorts that aided his trousers in hiding his erection in school that morning would not attain such feat now, being the only item of clothing he had on. Evans knew this and he was careful as he turned on the bed, taking a sitting position. He was also quick to place the other pillow on his laps, while both hands laid on the pillow....


“I don’t know if Jerry left with his phone,” Evans said. He easily recognised the worried look his mother had. Then he added, “He only went to a vigil,” Evans said reassuringly, though the words did not come out easily. “after all, Jerry’s in God’s house. And he will be back in one piece in the morning.”



Nneoma nodded again. She heaved and turned towards the door. “Make sure you put the light off when you are done.”

“Yes, ma.”

“Do say a prayer.”



“I will.”

Evans felt his sins would triple if he failed to pray, as his first sin had been the lie he told to aid Jerry’s outing; and the second, the lie that he had just finished studying before his mother walked into the room. He knew the prayer was needful too, as he had barely studied for the test. And Mrs. Bassey’s tests were most times too difficult.

Evans fished the novel from under the pillow and gently he eased his frame from the bed. Immediately Evans approached the table where his school bag sat, he pulled back the zip, then he..... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-6/

Patiently waiting to read your first fvck.

Hope you were fvcked brutally

more update loading today.. you can visit the site to find more interesting story @ www.ugobestiky.com

EPISODE 7

They started up the stairs, four of them, being the first group to finish the impromptu biology practical. Emeka had been greatly pleased when, in the biology laboratory, Mrs. Bassey had placed him in the same group as Kelechi Nzeh, the best biology student. Mrs. Bassey had described the practical as ‘the forerunner’; the main test she would still conduct, later that day.

“I wonder why the girls we love don’t seem to love us in return,” Efe said as they climbed the stairs. He hoped it would strike up a conversation.

“Its a lie, abeg!” Gbolahun quickly disagreed.

“Gbolahun, please, this is not the right time for your silly jokes. I’m serious.”

Gbolahun continued, making it seem like Efe’s plea had been directed to a different person. “I don’t know about the others, but for me, the girls I admire, they admire me too; and most times they make the first move.” Emeka and Kelechi laughed, Efe too. Gbolahun did not. “Hey, Efe, that wristwatch you bought for Amaka, I mean the one you spent all your savings to buy, did you collect it from her after she dumped you?”

This time they all laughed.

“But, I think Efe is correct,” Emeka said. “Its even worse when the girl is cool with your friend.”

“Better person, you sabi something, not like this black, fat gay.” Efe said. Kelechi, who had remained quiet, was the only one who laughed.

“Your father!” Gbolahun said.

The word ‘gay’ made Emeka to remember the events that followed after his father switched off the television set the previous evening. The piece of paper, he muttered to himself. Emeka was sure that he had not left the paper on top of the dining table at home, where he had stayed to read. He was also sure that Efe had given Gbolahun a ‘fitting’ reply, but he had not heard even a word that Efe had said. Emeka unknowingly had quickened his steps.

“Hey Emeka, are you already scared of our gay friend?” Efe said.

Emeka did not respond as he continued his walk to the classroom, and straight to his seat. His school bag hung on his chair, empty. It was his usual practice to empty the contents of his bag inside his locker. Emeka opened the locker and searched the pages of his biology textbook. Or, did I place it inside my notebook; Emeka thought. He wondered why he had not collected his notebook from Kelechi immediately he remembered the paper. He closed his locker, and stood from his seat, waiting for Kelechi to walk into the classroom.

“My note, please.” he said immediately Kelechi walked in.

“Did you see any piece of paper inside my note?” Emeka asked after he had searched the note.

“No. What paper?” Kelechi asked.

“A—” Emeka did not know how best to describe it. “Never mind.” he said. How could he possibly have said, ‘the paper where I drew Evans and labeled him—GAY.

Emeka heaved. He made a silent prayer as Efe and Gbolahun walked in—dear Lord, no one should see that paper.

* * * * *

“Good afternoon, ma. You are welcome to our class.” the class greeted.

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Bassey responded. “I hope you are ready to take the test?” The response Mrs. Bassey got varied, but the majority had said ‘No’.

When Evans opened his locker, he noticed a piece of paper on top of his books. The paper was blank, but it was obvious that the other side was not. Evans turned the paper, making it rest on its blank side. And, right before him was an illustration, and his name written beneath it. The illustration had another word written by its side—GAY.

* * * * *

“Mummy, welcome.” Ruth greeted. Even before she opened the door, Ruth already knew it was her mother who had knocked. For a moment, Ruth clung to Nneoma, pressing her body against her mother’s. As Nneoma tried to close the door, Ruth helped her carry the nylon bag she held.

“Drop it in the kitchen,” Nneoma instructed, “you will find a small nylon inside, the one with the fresh fish. Remove the fish from the nylon and place its pieces inside any of those bowls on the sink.”

“Ok, mummy.”

“This NEPA people, evenings like this when there ought to be light, they will just seize it,” Nneoma said in lament. “And my phone’s battery is flat.”

“There was light when I came back from school. They took the light not too long ago.”

“Are you the only one in the house?” Nneoma asked. She had raised her voice a bit as Ruth was now in the kitchen.

Ruth also raised hers as she responded, “No. Evans is in his room.”

“What about Jerry?” Nneoma asked. She recalled how she had tried severally to call Jerry, before her phone went flat.

“I don’t know. I’ve not seen him since I returned.”

“Maka gịnị kwanu—for what reason?” Nneoma said softly, then she raised her voice again. “Has Jerry not returned from the vigil?”

“I don’t know.”

Nneoma dropped her bag on the three-seater sofa. She held her small purse as she walked to the boys’ room. As Nneoma entered the room, she saw Evans on the bed.

“Mummy, welcome.” Evans greeted. His voice sounded weak, and her worry heightened. For a moment Nneoma’s concern moved from Jerry to Evans.

“What is wrong with you?” Nneoma asked, walking closer to the bed.

“Nothing,”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” Evans responded, though he had only served himself a small portion from the rice Ruth had cooked.

Nneoma heaved. “Where is Jerry?”

“I don’t know. Jerry was not at home when I got back from school.” Evans answered. Nneoma held herself from asking him a second time if he was fine. “I don’t think Jerry has returned home from—” he purposely left the remaining words unsaid. He did not want to be a part of Jerry’s lie again.

“I tried calling him in the morning, but no response. And my phone has been off most of the day.” Nneoma pulled the zip of her purse, then she brought out her phone. She switched the phone on, but it went off almost immediately.

“Jerry won’t be able to answer your call,”

“Why?”

“His phone is on the table, he left it there last night.” Remembering that his mother had asked him about his brother’s phone the previous night, Evans quickly added, “I only discovered it this morning.”

“Ke ụdị nsogbu dị ihe nka!–what kind of problem is this.” Nneoma exclaimed. “Where could he have gone to?” she asked, deliberately ruling out the possibility that something bad had happened to her son. “Do you know the name of the friend who invited him for the vigil?”

“Charles.”

“Where is Jerry’s phone, let me have the boy’s number.” Nneoma remembered that her phone’s battery was flat, and ............. CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episode-7/

LarryBee1k:
My first kiss was unintentional. I went to her house, she touched me and I responded. I was naive but immediately I saw her eyes I know it was going down. She put her hand on my penis and it was already erect. I could see she was surprised, omg a fucking 10 inches penis. Na so she run away.

And you didn't pursue her?

...

Story continues Updates loading

EPISODE 8
The sound of Jerry’s mobile phone, indicating an incoming call, made Evans to turn on the bed. Ordinarily, he would have ignored the call. But the situation at hand required a contrary action.



Evans sighed. He was sure the clock had a long way to go before it reached five thirty.

As Evans rose from the bed, he felt light-headed, a sure sign that he had not slept for long. Still he was grateful that nature had overpowered his thoughts, offering him sleep for a while. The piece of paper he had discovered in his locker had dominated his thoughts.

The phone had stopped ringing before he got to the table where it lay.



Evans turned the switch on, making the electric bulb come alive; his thoughts also came alive. Who could have placed that note in my locker, he mused. Am I really gay?

Jerry’s phone brightened again, and Eminem’s ‘When I’m Gone’ filled the room. The screen revealed the caller—Charles.

“Good morning.”

“Is Jerry back?”



“No.”

The line went silent for a while, but it was obvious the call had not ended. Evans held the phone, waiting for Charles’ response. The voice he heard next had a distinct tone.

“Hello. Evans. Jerry’s things, are they all in place?”



“Hello . . . who are you?”

“It’s Lanre, a friend of ours.” a voice said. Evans easily gave the voice a name—Charles. “Its a conference call, Lanre just joined.” Charles said. “He wants to know if anything is missing in the house, like—Jerry’s clothes, shoes, your mum’s property, anything.”

“I’ve not noticed anything.”

“Check.” To Evans, Lanre seemed to have an air of authority. Evans liked the fine timbre of Lanre’s voice.



“I guess you have to call back.”

“Just go ahead and check. Don’t worry, the call is free.” Charles said.

“Ok.”

Evans walked to the wardrobe, and he pulled its door. He considered the clothes, most of them Jerry owned.



“His clothes seem to be in place.”

“Him no go notice easily, even if one or two dey miss,” Charles said, obviously to his friend. “Guy, make we let the boy go sleep. In the morning we go reach their side.”

“No wahala.”

“Evans, sorry for disturbing your sleep. Lanre and I will come to your house in the morning.”

“Ok. Thanks.” Evans for a moment tried to paint a mental picture of Lanre, a physique that would be just right for the voice he had heard. Tall, dark, slightly muscular, with a face that offered a smile only once in a while; he imagined.



Evans walked back to the table to drop the phone. As he approached the table, Evans noticed something. Instead of two, only one of Jerry’s bag was on the floor, under the table. The smaller bag was not there. He lifted the bag from under the table, then, he pulled its zip. The bag, Evans was sure, contained more items than it used to. And atop was a novel. Evans brought out the novel and flipped through its pages. Most of the pages had been marked with ink too. Unlike the other novel, this one was marked with yellow ink. Evans stopped at a page, and he started with a paragraph marked with yellow ink:

She had stated her price quite quickly, and he had reached for his wallet without any bargain. He had approached her knowing she was naive, though she had priced herself too high. Marcus did not mind. He liked them that way. As he slid a finger between her wet opening, he knew he was in for a treat.

Evans closed the book and placed it back in the bag. Though he was sure he would return to it later.

Nneoma turned on the bed. A stretch and a yawn, and she was grateful, though surprised, that she had slept for a while. As she sat up, she picked the scarf that lay on her pillow. Nneoma placed it on her head, without tying it, before she began to pray.

Nneoma yawned before she let the scarf rest on the pillow again. Then she eased her frame from the bed. Her prayer had taken a much longer time than usual, and she had mainly prayed for Jerry’s safety. Nneoma sang softly, so as not to wake Ruth, as she walked towards the door. A thought found its way to her mind as she walked past the wardrobe. Still she continued her walk. She held the door knob, undecided. Her hand remained on it as she struggled with her thoughts. Nneoma let go, and started a walk towards the wardrobe. As she got near it, Nneoma tried to keep her thoughts in check; she tried same with her fears too.

Nneoma pulled the door that secured the wardrobe. Then she brought out a black bag. She provided the correct combination, three digits, one-six-four, and the bag opened. Immediately Nneoma knew that someone had recently tampered with its content. It was not much of a surprise when she discovered that the money she had kept in the bag was missing, three hundred thousand naira.

She felt queasy, and a bit on edge. Her stomach also felt full, added to it, an uncomfortable sensation. Still she gently let her frame off the bed. She knew she had to, before her mother would walk into her room, with a cane and a sermon. A virtuous woman has no business with her bed, once it is five o’clock in the morning; her mother had told her severally.

She soon began a slow walk to the door, heading to the bathroom, eager to spit out the saliva that had gathered in her mouth.

She got to the door and turned its half-broken knob, immediately greeted by the strong scent of a locally made disinfectant. The scent stretched her discomfort to its peak, and a sudden rumble in her stomach followed suit. Her steps quickened as the need to use the bathroom had .... CONTINUE READING: https://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episdode-8/

EPISODE 9

They stood side by side on the stairs leading to the first floor, deep in a conversation. They stood quite close, shoulder to shoulder, like a pair desperate to confirm their 2-inch height difference. When a group of students had emerged, in haste to use the stairs on which they stood, the duo had momentarily created a path, wide enough for just one student at a time.

“Miss Onuorah, ọbu chukwu zọputara anyị—it was God that saved us. My sister, it would have been a fatal accident oh!” Mrs. Ibekwe exclaimed. “If not for God’s mercy, it would have been a totally different story. A whole family of seven, consumed, just like that?!”

“Chukwu agaghị ekwe—God will not permit such.” Miss Onuorah, the English language teacher, said. “Our God protects His own.”

“I am a witness oh!”

A student showed up on the stairs, standing a reasonable distance away from the teachers. It took a little less of a minute before they recognised her presence.

“Ah, Imabong! Have you been standing there?” Mrs. Ibekwe asked. “Come my dear, there’s enough space for you.” Both teachers moved a bit, to opposite sides, to create room for Imabong. “Imabong,” Mrs. Ibekwe continued, “you are getting more fleshy these days. Eh, everywhere is just shaking.” Imabong smiled, while Miss Onuorah laughed. “What special food have you been eating?”

“No special food, ma.”

“Her mother must be taking good care of her.” Miss Onuorah offered. “You know these south-south people, they like their daughters to be plump, especially when a suitor is at hand.”

Imabong had a shy smile when she said, “Ma, there’s no suitor.”

“Don’t worry, God will bring one soon.” Mrs. Ibekwe said.

Imabong smiled and continued her descent on the stairs. The teachers maintained their positions, but their eyes proved to be faithful escorts. They resumed their conversation, though favouring a new line, after Imabong had gone a reasonable distance.

“Oh!” Mrs. Ibekwe exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“As if you don’t have eyes to see. Or will you say you have not noticed anything?”

“My sister, it beats me oh!”

“I wonder if Mrs. Bassey is the only one remaining who has not noticed that her daughter is pregnant.”

“Will she carry the pregnancy for Imabong?”

“Is her mother a novice?”

“She is a born-again, a deaconess too. She won’t do such.”

“Nsogbu adịghị. Mgbe ada ya nwanyi turu ime nke abụo, ọga ahọta—there is no problem. When her daughter gets pregnant a second time, then she will understand.”

* * * * *

Evans sat on a single seater sofa in the living room, holding the novel he had found in Jerry’s bag, the one marked severally with yellow ink. Evans had been in the same spot for a little above an hour: reading the paragraphs that highlighted the sexual escapades of Marcus, a rich Colombian drug dealer; and occasionally drifting in thought to the recent events his family had been plagued with, mainly, the revelations that were ushered in when Charles and his friend, Lanre, came to visit. Lanre had not measured up to the image Evans had painted of him, though he had not been too far from the mark.

Evans still held the novel, but his thoughts had drifted again.

“Ma, it was a surprise when I got Evans’ call,” Charles had said, shortly after a conversation had started between the visitors and his mother. “I was surprised because Jerry did not show up at the party.”

“Party?” Nneoma had said. She had turned towards Evans. Evans, who had kept his gaze on his mother, and occasionally on Lanre, had looked away.

Charles had continued, much to Evans’ delight. “Evans told me that Jerry had mentioned a vigil. There was no vigil. And I did not come with any flyer when I visited that afternoon.”

Lanre who had been quiet had spoken next. To Evans, Lanre’s voice sounded better in person. “Lately Jerry had repeatedly mentioned a name, one Mr. Ray, saying the man was willing to help him travel abroad. We did not take him seriously, because his claim seemed far-fetched. But, who knows, Jerry may have been serious about it. We just felt you should know.”

“We called last night, early this morning actually, to find out if anything had been discovered to be missing. Evans said nothing was missing.

Nneoma had nodded repeatedly.

“After the call ended, I noticed that one of his bag was missing.”

“And you did not tell me.” his mother had said softly. She had continued before Evans could respond. “Well, it all seem to fall in place now. My money, three hundred thousand naira is also missing.”

Evans heaved, flipping unto a new page in the novel he held, unwilling to continue with his thoughts. He began to read again, the first paragraph marked with yellow ink in the page he had just flipped open.

* * * * *

Evans heard a knock and he stirred from his sleep. He sprang to his feet, surprised he had drifted off to sleep while reading the novel. He heard the knock again, and he turned towards the clock on the wall—3:22 pm. He guessed it was a classmate who had bothered to check on him, as he had been absent from school. Evans had complained of a headache, and his mother had not raised any objection when he told her he wanted to stay at home. Evans walked towards the door. He pulled its bolts when he got to it, and the door opened. And in front of him stood Walter.

“You did not come to school today, what happened?” Walter had said, even before the door had fully opened.

Evans merely stood, unsure if he wanted Walter in the house or not. His thoughts immediately got free rein: I lied to aid Jerry’s exit, because of you; not long after I got close to you, I get a funny note in my locker; and, what if the same person who dropped the note shows up now, and finds me alone with you?

“Hello . . . ” Walter said, waving his hand before Evans’ eyes. He made an attempt to walk past Evans, into the living room. Evans surprised both himself and Walter when he stood in Walter’s way. He knew he had to say something convincing enough.

“My mother is at home. She’s sick,” Evans lied. “and—she’s ........ CONTINUE READING: http://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episode-9/

EPISODE 10


*****Ten years earlier*****

Nneoma stirred on the bed. Then she welcomed the new day with a quiet ‘thank you, Jesus’. She counted herself lucky, being a nursing mother, yet being able to sleep through the night, without a cry from her baby. The first six days after her baby was born had been, as anticipated, challenging. But the little girl was quick to make up for all the trouble, adopting a new routine that Nneoma readily welcomed. Six months after, Nneoma was grateful her baby had maintained same pattern: sleep early, remain asleep all night, and wake once the morning prayer began in a mosque nearby. Nneoma was sure God had blessed her with a good child. Her previous experience, raising her sons, had not been that easy. It had even taken her a longer time to completely wean her boys off her breasts.

Nneoma moved her husband’s hand, rubbing it gently, before placing it on the bed. Chukwuma’s hand had been on her stomach. As Nneoma sat up, she noticed the beads of sweat on her husband’s forehead; and with the loose end of her wrapper she dabbed at them. Nneoma smiled as she peered at her husband’s face. Chukwuma rarely smiled, except when he slept. She loved the smile; she also loved the playful look Chukwuma would put up each time she teased him about it. Nneoma wished she had a means to capture that look, because most times Chukwuma did not believe her claim; other times he would raise a defence: I’m sure I was dreaming about you, he would say. Nneoma touched his hand again, pressed with the desire to feel his hands touch her, to take in the strong scent of his muscular body, to surrender to his thrusts and finally his strength. Nneoma wished that she could wake Chukwuma and openly express her need. But it had not been so with them. She was his wife. She was there to respond to his needs, not the other way round. Nneoma eased her frame from the bed, recognizing other pressing needs. She tied her loose wrapper firmly as she walked towards the door. She had a full bladder to ease, and a six year old son whose temperature she had to check.

* * * * *

Nneoma knocked on the door for the second time. She had waited a while after the first knock, but when no response seemed to be forthcoming, she had knocked again. The second knock lasted a little longer. Nneoma heard footsteps, and she restrained herself from knocking the third time.

“Who is that?” she heard.

“It’s Mama Jerry.” Nneoma answered.

Nneoma heard the sound the door bolt made, then she adjusted the baby tied to her back. Evans who had been standing by her side she pulled close. Evans tightened his grip on the food flask he held.

“Good morning.” he greeted, his voice croaky. The sixteen year old boy looked very handsome, though he had just woken up from sleep. Nneoma was sure Steve would be of help that morning.

“Good morning dear,” Nneoma began. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, but I want to ask for your assistance.” The worried look Steve put up did not tamper his handsome face, neither did it discourage Nneoma from making her request. “Evans has been sick all weekend, though he is better now. But he’s still not strong enough to go to school this morning. Please, I will like him to stay with you. I don’t want Evans to go with me to my shop, the market is usually rowdy on Monday.” She quickly added, “But I’ll come back early, in the afternoon.”

“No problem. He will be fine with me.”

Though Nneoma had not expected a contrary response, still she heaved to show her relief. “Thank you.”

* * * * *

Evans roused, opened his eyes, then he looked around. He was quick to recognise the unfamiliarity of the room. Evans sat up quickly, fear written on his face. Then he remembered: his mother had left him with a neighbour; Steve had led the way to a room, asking him a few questions as they walked; Steve had taken the food flask from him when they got there, placing it on a table; Evans had found a pack of cards which he played with, after Steve had crawled back to bed, covering himself with a thick blanket. Evans also remembered that.....
READ FULL EPISDODE 10: *****Ten years earlier*****

Nneoma stirred on the bed. Then she welcomed the new day with a quiet ‘thank you, Jesus’. She counted herself lucky, being a nursing mother, yet being able to sleep through the night, without a cry from her baby. The first six days after her baby was born had been, as anticipated, challenging. But the little girl was quick to make up for all the trouble, adopting a new routine that Nneoma readily welcomed. Six months after, Nneoma was grateful her baby had maintained same pattern: sleep early, remain asleep all night, and wake once the morning prayer began in a mosque nearby. Nneoma was sure God had blessed her with a good child. Her previous experience, raising her sons, had not been that easy. It had even taken her a longer time to completely wean her boys off her breasts.

Nneoma moved her husband’s hand, rubbing it gently, before placing it on the bed. Chukwuma’s hand had been on her stomach. As Nneoma sat up, she noticed the beads of sweat on her husband’s forehead; and with the loose end of her wrapper she dabbed at them. Nneoma smiled as she peered at her husband’s face. Chukwuma rarely smiled, except when he slept. She loved the smile; she also loved the playful look Chukwuma would put up each time she teased him about it. Nneoma wished she had a means to capture that look, because most times Chukwuma did not believe her claim; other times he would raise a defence: I’m sure I was dreaming about you, he would say. Nneoma touched his hand again, pressed with the desire to feel his hands touch her, to take in the strong scent of his muscular body, to surrender to his thrusts and finally his strength. Nneoma wished that she could wake Chukwuma and openly express her need. But it had not been so with them. She was his wife. She was there to respond to his needs, not the other way round. Nneoma eased her frame from the bed, recognizing other pressing needs. She tied her loose wrapper firmly as she walked towards the door. She had a full bladder to ease, and a six year old son whose temperature she had to check.

* * * * *

Nneoma knocked on the door for the second time. She had waited a while after the first knock, but when no response seemed to be forthcoming, she had knocked again. The second knock lasted a little longer. Nneoma heard footsteps, and she restrained herself from knocking the third time.

“Who is that?” she heard.

“It’s Mama Jerry.” Nneoma answered.

Nneoma heard the sound the door bolt made, then she adjusted the baby tied to her back. Evans who had been standing by her side she pulled close. Evans tightened his grip on the food flask he held.

“Good morning.” he greeted, his voice croaky. The sixteen year old boy looked very handsome, though he had just woken up from sleep. Nneoma was sure Steve would be of help that morning.

“Good morning dear,” Nneoma began. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, but I want to ask for your assistance.” The worried look Steve put up did not tamper his handsome face, neither did it discourage Nneoma from making her request. “Evans has been sick all weekend, though he is better now. But he’s still not strong enough to go to school this morning. Please, I will like him to stay with you. I don’t want Evans to go with me to my shop, the market is usually rowdy on Monday.” She quickly added, “But I’ll come back early, in the afternoon.”

“No problem. He will be fine with me.”

Though Nneoma had not expected a contrary response, still she heaved to show her relief. “Thank you.”

* * * * *

Evans roused, opened his eyes, then he looked around. He was quick to recognise the unfamiliarity of the room. Evans sat up quickly, fear written on his face. Then he remembered: his mother had left him with a neighbour; Steve had led the way to a room, asking him a few questions as they walked; Steve had taken the food flask from him when they got there, placing it on a table; Evans had found a pack of cards which he played with, after Steve had crawled back to bed, covering himself with a thick blanket. Evans also remembered that.....
READ FULL EPISDODE 10: http://ugobestiky.com/my-first-kiss-episode-10/