Akukom's Posts

Nairaland Forum › Akukom's Profile › Akukom's Posts

1 2 3 4 (of 4 pages)

Romance › Love Letter To My Future Wife by Akukom(op): 10:05am On Jan 01, 2019

“What more can i say, God bless you for deciding to spend the rest of your life with me. I cannot promise you much, but for everyday that i live i WILL make you very happy, I hope you know how big that word is.

Thank you for knowing all of my past but you still decided to stick with me. Many think i’m lucky, but i rather say i am blessed.

After all you heard about me and all in all my imperfections, you still here and all will be, Thank you.

For the 2 wonderful girls you gave me, these are the best gifts i ever got, Words are Just not enough.

Thanks for not being jealous of my girls, understanding that i am more of a father than a husband, but who says you are not my daughter too?

Love hasn’t treated me right, I was damaged but for you i am healed and i will always love you like no other.

Marriage can be a whole lot of work, but you have made it the best time of my life by being a good wife, i say Thank you.

You are one reason i want to wake up every morning. Your smile when you say Good morning is everything i need to start the day.

The man is the head of the family, but what can a head do without a good neck. Thank you for knowing that you decide the mood of the home, and you make good decisions about that.

As carefree as i can be about money, you keep tabs on our accounts, you definitely the best manager life has to offer.

Whenever i see what my kids are growing into, i marvel at what you are making them into. They don’t deserve a better mum.

The love you have for my brothers is over whelming. Thank you for understanding how much they mean to me and you respect that. You do your very best to keep my extended family intact, thank you.

Even their wives love you like a mum because you always there for them.

Mum and dad tell me how often you call yo check on them and even though its our money, they appreciate the gifts you buy for them. I appreciate that you take time out to do all these for my family.

Thanks for understanding that i cannot make every family holiday but you make it sacrosanct for the love of the girls.

Please avoid spanking the girls when im around, you know i cannot take it one bit.

When we argue and i apologize immediately, Queen, this doesn’t make me guilty, i just prefer that we live in one accord than argue over anything at all. Understanding that apologizing to me when you are wrong doesn’t make you a lesser person is one trait i always envy about you.

I have forgiven all my Exes as much as you have forgiven yours, and we wont be talking about them, and even when we do, its just jokes and bants.

Thanks for understanding that your Iphone is a Wephone, and my small Nokia phone cannot be passworded, so i appreciate that you pick my every call whenever i m not close.

I know you appreciate that i never go out, but i thank you for always taking my girls shopping and to the cinemas, also when i decide to bring the part home with my friends, thanks for always being the best host ever.

I also appreciate that you never stay out late the few times you hang out with your friends.

The way you look at me when i cook warm my heart. The way you talk about the meals i prepare when i do is always captivating but learn to agree that i am a better cook.

Thank you for liking my friends and more especially my day One goons, what would i have done if you did not. Whenever i watch you and their wives gist and argue, i feel glad that you are helping to keep the relationship we always kept.

Whenever i go out to work, the way check on me to make sure i am alright is hearth warming. It rejuvenates me at times when i am down. What more does a man who work so hard deserve.

Even with all this cash and investments, i still remain a local man, so i..
Continue: https://akukom.com/love-letter-to-my-future-wife/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Author Profile: [url]Akukom.com/author/wale-applause/[/url]

Literature › Of gods Who Bring Death by Akukom(op): 11:23am On Dec 27, 2018

My mom was always a pacifist, especially when it came to issues regarding her marriage. She chose to overlook a lot of my dad’s irresponsible behavior, and his temper as long as we had peace or at least some semblance of it. Our peace was a fragile and tenous truce, fraught with the possibility of breakdown whenever we ran into our father in our small house. The only way to sustain it was to stay out of each other’s way which we were more than happy to do.

Deep down I suspect mother had no regrets about her marriage. Not because there wasn’t cause for regrets, but because she’d become so conditioned by her belief in the traditional interpretation of what it means to be a wife, a belief reinforced by the church she chose to attend. The church was one of the more narrow minded versions of the Nigerian pentecostal church, the type that made sure all the women understood the need for them to be submissive and told them to leave domestic abuse up to God. My mother’s favorite phrase in fact had been “God knows best.” She used to drive my brother Chidi nearly crazy whenever she used it to sidestep a tense situation.

As I watch her casket being covered up, I try to blink back tears and be strong. If she was here by my side, she would have told me to wipe my tears while gently reminding me that I was the first daughter, the Ada. She would have told me “People are looking up to you nne.” I can’t help but think about how it seemed she only lived to give, to give all of herself for us. She’d only been interested in our success, mine and my brother’s. Whatever it took to bring about said success was a fair price as far as she was concerned.

In fact the only time she’d stood up to our father it had been on our behalf, when he threw a tantrum because we didn’t want to study the courses he’d planned for us to study. My father was the kind of man who’d plan out your life immediately you were born and expect you to stick to his plans like they were law. He was an angry, violent, sorry excuse of a father and husband (and pastor) but we’d long learned to simply act like he didn’t exist and that worked. Until it was time for Chidi and I to go to university.

Chidi had always wanted to become a journalist but father believed he’d make a fine engineer. I on the other hand wanted to be the engineer, I loved figuring out ways to fix stuff, but father thought that it wasn’t a female profession and fought against it. He wanted his daughter to become a doctor not caring that I couldn’t even stand the sight of blood.

My mom could only defer to him so much. She was determined that we would be whatever we wanted to be, unrestrained by any person, bias or ideology. My father threatened to stop paying our fees if we didn’t accede to his wishes, my mum said no problem. She worked herself to the bones to send us to school in the UK where Chidi and I got the best of education, subsidized by numerous scholarships over the course of our study. We got jobs and settled down in the UK while my mom remained in Nigeria basking in our success, and bragging about her kids to anyone who cared to listen back home.

Chidi tried relentlessly to convince her to get a divorce, an idea she refused to even consider, it was against her faith. When he saw that he couldn’t get her to leave our father, he tried to convince her to relocate and come live with one of us, but she turned down this suggestion too, “Who’ll take care of your father?” She’d ask much to Chidi’s chagrin. It was fun watching them spar. My mom had was no longer..
Continue: https://akukom.com/of-gods-who-bring-death/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

For More Action Stories: https://akukom.com/category/action/
Read and Share Interesting Literature with Millions of people Worldwide on [url]Akukom.com[/url]. Register and Start sharing.

Literature › I Wish I Never Went by Akukom(op): 12:15pm On Dec 25, 2018

https://akukom.com/jax_u/2018/12/36CEBDA5-F47C-423D-ADC2-E952AF6A4200.jpeg

We stayed in a public yard normally called face me I face you, so we the children of the house usually played together… everyone in our yard behaved like family, well why wouldn’t we, we heard basically everything that happened in our different homes.

Like every other normal day I went into Aunty Nancy’s room to greet and gist with her, she was with a friend that day and when I got in it was like they were trying to adjust themselves, but they were half naked… I tried excusing myself but they stopped me, she locked the room and asked me to join them, I protested and she threatened me with a knife.

I lost my virginity to two ladies, they did obscene things to me and I couldn’t protest as it got to a point I almost fainted. I wasn’t too young to know that what they did was a sin to God and they also violated me, I was aware but helpless, no one would believe me, and because they all saw her as a woman of God well she painted herself as one… she is a choir mistress in her church so everyone expects her to be very close to God.. I did too, I never knew she had this dark secret; everyone in the neighbourhood believes that’s why no man ever comes to visit her, now I know the real reason why.

I picked myself up when they were done and dressed up, she gave me some water and food to eat then she held me a while longer, cleaned my face and made sure I was fine before she let me go… when I got home they didn’t care to notice anything since I was in her room not anywhere else.

Days went by I avoided her like a plague until she sent for me lying she wanted to send me on an errand, I knew what she wanted but I didn’t want anyone to notice or know anything, I went and she locked the door and the episode that followed was the same as the first.

After the first month of my first experience with her, I began wanting it myself, I started getting attracted to girls and I initiated the other girls in the compound into it, they enjoyed it, as we all began getting exposed to pornography by Aunty Nancy of course… it continued that way until we moved away and I went to the university, but the damage had already been done I guess…

I went to school and continued with that lifestyle, but I had to hide it anyways, I wasn’t in the western countries where it’s overlooked… I had a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and I always had $ex with them both, only I enjoyed it more with my girlfriend and just managed with my boyfriend, it continued that way until my boyfriend found out and threatened to release my nudes if I didn’t let him have his way with my girlfriend and I, I couldn’t do that, my girlfriend didn’t even know I had a boyfriend… I pleaded and pleaded but he didn’t bulge and eventually it happened, he released not only my nude but he did a video of my girlfriend and I. I was devastated, so was my girlfriend and she later committed suicide and I became the talk of the town and school and also a target for cult boys…

I became depressed and distressed, I couldn’t..
Continue: https://akukom.com/i-wish-i-never-went/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Author Profile: [url]Akukom.com/author/amaka/[/url]

Read and Share Interesting Literature with Millions of people Worldwide on [url]Akukom.com[/url]. Register and Start sharing.

Romance › Virgin by Akukom(op): 11:35am On Dec 22, 2018

https://akukom.com/jax_u/2018/12/C68BDBEA-D8EF-4026-8ED2-53866EF8BD00.jpeg
Kiss me there, my neck, please, I said to him as I shook with ecstasy and excitement

Tease me papi, touch me, I want you, please

He stares at me with a smirk playing on his lips as I plead trying to take his hands all over my body

I want you,I mouthed as he raises my face unto his and kisses me

I moan into his mouth as his tongue play with mine

He smiles as he stares at me needing him.

You’re so soft he says, I blush. I know you haven’t done this before, are you sure you want to now?

I let my hands roam his body as a response to his question

I touch him in his most sensitive place and he moans into my hands

Please, I say, his countenance changes as I say this, I see the hunger in his eyes

He turns me around and spanks me

Damn, I want you I say, he kisses and kneads my ass cheeks and then spanks me again

I moan into the dresser, I don’t remember how many times he repeated that action as I moan in ecstasy

Then he parted my pussy lips, his eyes asking me and my eyes saying yes

He plunges into me as our eyes meet, and kisses my moans and pain away.

My body quivers as he starts to move inside of me, my walls stretching for the first time.

He brings himself out of me and teases my clit with his head, I couldn’t but moan out his name as the sweet sensation erupts through my body.

He holds me firm on my waist and plunges into me again, this time harder, making me scream out his name, then he starts moving slowly

Look at me, he says, do you like it baby, he asks

All I could do was nod as he moved inside of me

Please have me, I say, have all of me, he says call me papi

I mouthed something like that and he moved faster, like I unleashed something in him..
Continue: https://akukom.com/virgin/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › Virgin by Akukom(op): 11:30am On Dec 22, 2018

Music/Radio › Ybnl Mafia Album Review by Akukom(op): 8:50pm On Dec 18, 2018

If there is one thing Olamide is famous for asides hit tracks and consecutive yearly albums, it will be taking young talent acts from rags to riches, from being promising to becoming superstars, Adekunle Gold and Lil Kesh are obvious witnesses to this.
This time, he took it a step further when he signed not one or two artistes. In a calendar year YBNL has Limerick, Lyta, Temmy Ovwasa, Picazzo, Yomi Blaze and Fireboy under her umbrella. Many wondered how he was going to manage this number of acts giving that YBNL is not the only label in Nigeria, more so there are a lot of other promising acts signed or independent, but you can tell that Olamide was ready from the onset especially with this YBNL Mafia album. If you ask me, i would say it is long over due as one should have beenmade in the days when Lil Kesh, Adekunle and Viktoh were under the label, but trust the never say never guy to know best.
Now we have the album, let us enjoy it.
Olamide sure knows how to arrange a body of work. Now used to his style of releasing good materials without too much prior notice, (an idea which has always worked for him), he has giving us the YBNL MAFIA album, a conglomerate of different young talents. Permit me to say that this album did not fall before par. It is one that has all the Olamide hit album ingredient and more. The new boys and young lady brought a different kind of energy into this. One would have thought that a body of work from these very promising acts would be haphazard, but every song on the YBNL MAFIA album was precise.Let us go one after the other about the tracks.

WELCOME ft. Olamide
From the title, this 3:55 minutes track is just perfect for the introduction to the album. Pheelz Mr Producer comes through as usual with a kind of old school hip hop touch to accommodate Olamide’s rap. You always know what to expect from the Olamide, Pheelz synergy. They always come through. Welcome is one song that come up in your car and you nodding your head all the way. It gives a good picture of what to expect from the album. You listen to welcome off this album, you want to go all the way.
OKE SUNA ft.OLAMIDE
This is one Olamide song you get on every album. A good follow up to the introductory welcome. The bounce, the progression, the lyrics, Olamide’s album will never be complete without a song like this. He glorifies the woman’s body on this song. I like this 3:23 minutes track, although anxiety might make you want to skip to the next track. Dance floors and wedding performances will enjoy this song very much. I advise you listen till the last second. Another good one done by the mystro alone. You already know what a fusion of Pheelz and Baddo can give.

MACARONI ft. Picazzo, Olamide

Although Olamide will not be looking to relinquish the throne anytime soon, this young man Picazzo indeed got eyes on that throne. Picazzo took Nigeria social media by storm a while back after his freestyle videos were posted by PR gurus Tunde Ednut and Bizzle of The plug. Picazzo sold himself with his freestyles earning him a seat at the YBNL table. From the very first second which introduced Pheelz as Mr Producer, you can tell the song is a hit. Picazzo is not taking any chances. His bounce and progression is owned by him. His use of words and sound is fantastic. He also has a thing for word play.You probably need a second listen to have a good understanding of his comic relief. Then again, HIS SPEED. DAMN!
Olamide chose the right song to jump on. After letting the young man Picazzo enjoyhimself on the beat, he came through to show who the boss really is. Take nothing away from Pheelz’s production and the magic he put towards the end with the telephone autotune. Pheelz is indeed Mr Producer.

MOTIGBANA ft. Olamide

Nothing need to be said about a song that stormed the airwaves for many months. Let me remind you what you already know, Motigbana is a good contender for song of the year. Now to telling you what you don’t know.

JEALOUS ft. FIRE BOY

I have listened to songs by Fireboy formerly known as DML for quite a long time and i knew all he ever needed was a platform to be heard. I am glad YBNL is giving him that. Boy is super talented. I am glad he was allowed to enjoy the beat all by himself. Sometimes i think Fireboy makes a song so perfect you don’t need anyone else on it. This 3:37 minutes track should be playing on every radio station in Nigeria and beyond. This is a very good song. I still hold the thought that the best is still not heard from the young talented Fireboy. The flow from the conventional pop to the igbo vibe still get me. This song should be playing in every bar. You just shake body after a few bottles of beer. Kudos Fire Boy.
IKA ft. Yomi Blaze, Olamide
Yes, Yomi Blaze is wicked! I like this song. He went in hard. He has shown that if given the chance and audience, he is another rapper to look forward to. Yomi Blaze gives us the Olamide from Rapsodi. This is just hip hop.Flow with ease, beat wickedly murdered. The verses and chorus are well coordinated. Produced by Pheelz or not, you can hear his influence on the entire song. He always knows what to do with pure rap songs especially the olamidesque rap. After Yomi Blaze, Olamide comes again to bless the beat. Don’t you just love the way he shows who the boss is? This is 3:12 mins of good rap music.

SEND HER MONEY ft. Dj Enimoney, Lk Kuddy, Kizz Daniel, Olamide, kranium

On behalf of summertime party people, I say a big thank you to Olamide for the inclusion of this track on this album. One song if well harnessed will cut across the globe. The inclusion of the underrated Lk Kuddy’s melody, Kizz Daniel’s everything and Kranium’s presence makes the song a good sell to cut across the world. As far as good music goes, this is one of them. Production, progression, melody, LIT. I am sure Dj Enimoney will enjoy playing this song at every event.
I’LL BE FINE ft. Fireboy
It will be very difficult to have another person on a Fireboy song. He makes every song his. To be on a song with him, you must be bringing something different to the table. Fireboy will go down as probably the revelation of the end of 2018.This song is one for the hustlers. I feel like he sang his soul on this one. Thinking about where he is coming from and where he is right now, i can feel some pain in this song. This song should be on every music device in the world. Pheelz sure always know whatto do. This is a song beautifully made. The lyrics is one everyone should listen to. Fireboy made the 3:17 minutes spent listening to this song one well spent. Pheelz added violin to this one and you will just want to be in his brains. How does he come up with these things.All the pain of yesterday, sure Fireboy will forget them tomorrow.
POVERTY DIE ft. OlamideOlamide sure knows what to release in December. This is the kind of December song you would have expected with Phyno, but with or without him, this dropped and became an instant hit. Olamide showed in 3:10 minutes that there will never be a December he will not be doing many shows. Poverty Die? Amen.

FIRE DOWN ft. FireBoy, Picazzo

I am finding the right words to describe this young talented Fireboy, i will let his fans be the judge of that. Boy is too good you never know what he will sound like next. I am sure this would not be one of those freestyles for Picazzo, he must have taken his time to carefullylisten to the magic made by Fireboy before he jumped on it. Fire Boy made the song almost perfect you will say why add another person, but the young beast Picazzo came through. He did what Olamide would have done if he was on the track. He is learning well from his CEO and you just cannot ask why he was featured on this one. Good chemistry they have on this one.
LE LE YI ft. Lil Kesh, Fire BoyTake this off the album and you can easily title it No bad song. I don’t speak on behalf of everyone, but i think people are tired of the cliche Lil Kesh rap. Glory to God for the inclusion of Fire Boy on the track, made the 3:05 minutes spent listening to it worth it. I for one think it is high time Lil Kesh switched his music style. Love Story, Rora are a few of the best Lil Kesh we have had in a while. It is that time to step it up. That sound is gone.

LIE ft. Limerick, Olamide

I was looking forward to the Limerick song because for some reasons, i think he is very underrated. I personally like his style of music, his sound too. On this one, Limerick does not..
Continue:https://akukom.com/ybnl-mafia-album-review/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

cc lalasticlala, Fynestboi, airmark

1 Like 1 Share

Celebrities › Ybnl Mafia Album Review by Akukom(op): 8:44pm On Dec 18, 2018

1 Like 1 Share

Music/Radio › KIZZ Daniel "No Bad Song" Album Review by Akukom(op): 10:33am On Dec 18, 2018

At first, listen, I was tempted to jump on my computer to do a review because it sounded good from the very first second, but the critique side of me wanted more. I would not write about an album at first listen owing to many reasons such as the fact that the album must have been put together in not less than a year, it would be very ungrateful and disrespectful to write about such project few hours after release.

I was scared for Kizz Daniel, judging by his former record label brouhaha. His first album set the tone, That is a body of work fit for the museum.

My fear was would he be able to pull that off again being on his own. Nobody to critique, no contributions from Sugar boy, I had reasons to be afraid. but if I was going to release a body of work like the one he just dropped, there would not be a better title than NO BAD SONG.

The confidence in the Album title got people thirsting. Yes, Kizz Daniel is super talented, but to say No bad song? His core fans needed to be sure he has a good understanding of what it means not to have a bad song. On this Album, Kizz defined what it means to not have a bad song, not even one.

At first recall, only Banky W fit that bill. I doubt if Banky ever had any bad song.

Whoever advised Kizz to listen again to his first album while working on this one did a good job, taking that advice was just the first step in the right direction.

Both albums old and new can stand side by side with each other and will most likely generate a Messi/Ronaldo kind of argument.

Let me advise that when listening to Kizz Daniel’s NO BAD SONG album, do not use cheap headphones from computer village and neither should you even try it in your car stereo if it doesn’t boom because that will be undeserving of this album.

To key into Kizz’s message and the idea behind this body of work, a little high would be good. Just a little!

On the No bad song album, Kizz maintained a bpm (beat per minute) of between 90 of Maye and 120 of the first track gods and only going off with the last track Tobi with a bpm of 144.

This goes to show that he knew exactly what he was doing. Kizz wanted to make a body of work that will outlive him. Something mid-tempo while you still need your dancing shoes.

Quite a few people argued that having 20 tracks on an album is a little too much, but I would say that with the level of his ‘super talent’ Kizz would have comfortably released a 30 track album.

Let me give a quick track to track break down

GODS
Coming in with this very track is one of the highs of this project. Similar to New Kings on his first album, gods is a fantastic first track for a superstar’s album. It is one song that can start your morning. It was a good choice and obviously very intentional. With a bpm of 120, this 3 minutes track occupies just the perfect place on the No bad song Album.

NO DO
This song was an instant hit when it was released in 2017. Every club, bar in Lagos and beyond made it an anthem. Whenever the song came on, it took the dance floors to
another level. Content-wise on this 106 bpm 2:32 minutes song, Kizz Daniel did his traditional less is more. Talks less and makes more impact. Not much need to be said about NO DO.

TERE ft. DIAMOND PLATNUMZ
In my opinion, I would think this particular song was made with the East African fans and market with a specific feature of Diamond Platnumz. Bpm of 120, this 3:48 minutes track will be a major hit in East Africa. It will be a crowd pleaser in the East African region and Kizz was able to bring back the old Diamond Platnumz. Nuff said, this track definitely deserves a video very soon.

ONE TICKET ft. DAVIDO
The thought of releasing this particular song just before the album is worth a million dollar. The djs instantly fell in love with this song as it is on a comfortable bpm of 106. Song dropped and you knew what to expect on the album. Having superstar Davido on the track was a match made in heaven. Song dropped and it was a shutdown.

OYIBE
Kizz Daniel has a thing for always having the people from the eastern part of Nigeria in mind. This is going to be an anthem in major markets in Nigeria. Igbo traders will love this one hereby selling it to the general populace. This 111 bpm 2:22 minutes track is just right for every hustler. The song is short, precise and will serve its purpose.

TIME NO DEY
This is where Kizz Daniel tells his usual love story in an unconventional way. It is just a feel good song. With a bpm of 92, this 2:50 minutes track is one you can bump to while you drive in Lagos traffic. The lyrics already gives a good description of the video and where he said ‘I knack am UNLIMITED’, tells me the video will be directed by Unlimited LA.

MAYE
The beautiful part of this song for me is the vulgar part of it. This is another feel-good music with a bpm of 90 which should be enjoyed with weed and palm wine and in cases where that is not available, weed, tonic and gin will be a good substitute. ‘Shey mumsy o ni mo ti’m ba f_ck e’ line is very appealing to me. The comic relief in the sound engineering of that part makes it sound real good. I like this song. The 3:07 minutes spent listening to this track will not be a waste of time and honestly Na person go become oko olosho.

BAD ft. WRETCH 22
Hopefully, Major Bangz gets a credit for what he did on this production. This is not what you find just anywhere in the Nigeria music scene. Feel good music with bpm of 97, and it indeed BANGZ. The kick, the percussion, progression is one you will fall in love with instantly. Having Wretch 22 on this particular track was a fabulous decision. He wrecked his part in this 3:12 minutes track. He did what MI or Ycee would have done if featured on this particular track. He added a good vibe to the song and for me, this is a song that can cross borders.

GHETTO ft. NASTY C
Akon will be very proud of Nasty C on this one. Nasty did what Akon would have done if he was featured on this track. Another song which deserves international accolades tells the story of what kids from the ghetto go through to get to the top.
100 bpm, 2:24 minutes, you wouldn’t want more. and indeed YOU DON’T WANT TO UNDERPAY OLOSHO, THAT IS A CRIME.

SOMEBODY DEY ft. DEMMIE VEE, DJ XCLUSIVE
This is where you need your dancing shoes straight away. This is a jam! One that will not be noticed yet until many years later. 111 bpm tells you this is one for the dance floors. DJ Xclusive did DJ Xclusive on the track, but I think the Demmie Vee part is negligible. He did not do anything worthy of note on this song, but all in all. this 2:45 minutes track is another banger.

AYEE
This is the Kizz Daniel you will expect on an album project. Where he takes you back in the days with the old school vibe but staying recent with the lyrics. 102 bpm, 3:22 minutes, Ayee is a good song on every ground. A little high when listening to this track will give a perfect understanding of what he was looking to achieve with this song. A beautiful piece.

HAPPY
Boy Kizz on this one just wants us all to be happy. A song you can easily dance at any owanbe with your two hands raised up. It is a 2:45 minutes of happiness.

JA
Same Kizz Daniel with the old school vibe garnished with new school lyrics. Ja is another feel-good music you can listen to at any time of day. Something you can call conscious music. Talks about the social vices in the Nigerian society. Do not expect to hear this
102 bpm 2:24 minutes track in the clubs or bar. Maybe you will almost never hear it on the radio, this one is a personal something. Just for you to hear, listen and digest on your own.

MADU
This is my favorite song on the album. Maybe the danceable beat of 109 bpm, or the lyrics seeking permission to spoil his woman with money and d_ck. This is a song that should be played back to back at any wedding. Because the song is only 2:42 minutes long, I will advise that it is put on repeat to really absorb the intent of the song. I remember dancing to this song at almost every instance it has come up irrespective of where I am.

POKO
This one is for the gals dem. Be sure in no time there will be many twerking videos to this 2:50 minutes banger. The bpm at 106 is just right. Expect a few DJs who know their onions to make the best of this track. Most girls want to whine it, it will only make sense if you tell
them how you want it. Poko does that for you.

IKWE ft. DIPLO
This is a very old school vibe. The watta bambam vibe of yesteryear. I like the idea behind the song. ‘Wattabambaming’ with the famous Shaggy lyrics of ‘Wasn’t me’ is a brilliant idea. This will also serve a lot of twerking purposes. Djs will enjoy playing this when the club is just about to begin or just towards the end. Diplo also came through sending the song to the Caribbeans. This is a sure hit for the summer.

NESESSARI ft. PHILKEYZ
On this song, Kizz popularizes a side of Philkeyz which has always been there but not loud enough. Now it can be seen and heard that Philkeyz is another melody king. Nesessari is another one for the gals. Straight banger from the first second. Bpm of 111 says all you need to know about the tempo. Takes you to the dance floor one time. And again Kizz does the traditional less is more. Went on about ‘Fine lady your body is a nesessari’ without making it boring. Kudos to the sound engineer for that telephone autotune.

OVER
In my opinion, I think Kizz is doing well in trying to own that old school vibe with the new school ‘genre’. On this song, he goes from Aliyah to Amaka, (from north to east) to express his love for his lady while showing interest in her sister. What a Yoruba demon thing to do. How would you be moving to a girl and also signifying interest in her sister. All in all good song off the album.

Continue: https://akukom.com/kizz-daniel-no-bad-song-album-review/

SOurce: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

1 Like 1 Share

Celebrities › KIZZ Daniel "No Bad Song" Album Review by Akukom(op): 10:18am On Dec 18, 2018

1 Like 1 Share

Literature › Waves(a Touching Story) by Akukom(op): 7:48am On Dec 17, 2018

They were on horses, galloping, the hoofs making dotted lines as they progressed, the sun was slightly hot with the waves splashing the shore, retreating and splashing the shores again. There were people playing by the water and they looked at them as they rode past, a toddler clapped. It seemed like a scene out of movie; a romantic movie. Her hair flapping in the air, her fragrance in the wind, his horse behind her, chasing hers. It was sexy the way her body bounced with the motion of the horse. The synergy, the rhythm, the balance wow, she really could ride he thought to himself. He looked behind, the jockeys were running after them. It was like him, and a princess escaped from a castle and the guards were chasing them. When they finally stopped she was laughing.
“I told you I could ride a horse” she said in between giggles
“Who would have believed you,” he said clapping his hands, “wow, wow wow.”
“Ha ha ha.”
“I am actually jealous you rode the horse this good.”
“Ahh shut up, you dirty mind.”
The jockeys reached where the horses stopped. They wore pleasant expressions on their faces. One of them asked him if they would go one more time? He looked at her and she shook her head. So he jumped down from the horse and rushed to help her come down telling the jockey not to worry, not to worry. He paid them with a tip.
“God bless you” they chorused
“And you too” He said.
“You are so happy today huh baby?’
“You make happy.”
“Awwwwww” she said putting her hands in his.
A man, with cameral hung on his neck walked in front of them saying “ahh oga this pose go fine for picture well well. Just stay like that make I take?”
“No no no no, thank you” he replied, waving his hand
“Oga this pose ehn, if you shake again e go spoil. Make I just take am like this?”
He looked at her, she was smiling. “Ok” he said and held her closer. The photographer took a couple of shot, and she jumped on him kissing his neck.
“Ahh oga..”
“My Friend just take the picture.”
“Ha ha this oga they vex.”
She wore a khaki bum shorts and vintage shirt tied at the midriff, that exposed a lot of cleavage, while he was clad only in a sky blue beach short; he had left his shirt on the mat. They were walking towards the mat, after having pointed to where the mat was so the photographer could bring the pictures after he had printed them.
“It’s tiring walking on beach,” she quipped.
“I know right, it’s like the younger brother of a quick sand.”
“Yeah like I am only going to let you go because I’m still learning how to be a quick sand.”
“Then in some places it will be like damn I’m getting good at this.”
“Other places it will be like damn I suck at this, I cant even suck a feet.”
“Look at you.”
“No, look at you.”
“You are crazy.”
“No, you are crazy ha ha.”
He remembered the first time they met. At the pool party. She was sitting on the edge of the pool, using her leg to play with the water; the ripples going forth. The music was loud. The people were going crazy: drinking alcohol, dancing, and playing games. In the midst of all this he was really surprised to see her looking sombre, sitting almost still, except for circular motion of her legs in the pool. So he sat by her and she didn’t even flinch. He remembered telling her that the way she was sitting, hunched over, it seemed she cried the pool. He didn’t know even why he said it; it felt like something he shouldn’t have said but she just started laughing so he smiled to himself thinking I’m a natural at this, until he noticed she was crying. He honestly didn’t know what to say. Then she said do you know why I am sitting by the deep end? He thought about it then said you are mermaid and by midnight you legs turn to fishtail? She laughed and said I was looking for a sign. She had paused rotating her legs and now she continued. He joined her, removing his shoes and dipping his legs in the water; it felt good. They sat in silence rotating their legs in the water then she said, my friend Kemi brought me here, she has gone to make out somewhere with her boyfriend, she left me with a couple of guys but I wasn’t feeling them nor was I in the mood to be social, they noticed and told me they would be back. She thought the party would be a good idea, remind me of what it’s like to be alive but frankly it didn’t help much. What makes you alive is not some stupid party you do not know anybody at. I know she means well but I have been suicidal for a while now and this was the last thing I needed, I mean she knows I am not the party type, since I lost my mom I have been going through severe depression. Look at my arm, I have been slicing myself with razor. I feel like there’s nothing to live for; I’m tired of life, honestly I am, so I sat by this pool planning to slip in unnoticed except God gave a sign, a sign telling me not to give up, a sign that God was looking at me now, this moment. Then you came siting by my side on the edge of the pool telling me it looked like I cried the pool.
Look at him, whistling, rubbing my hand as if he is here but I know he is far away in thoughts, he always whistles when he is far in thoughts, I hope whenever he goes away in the mind he is thinking good things about us; I always say imagination should be used for imagining the best, life is cruel already no need imagining monstrosities.
“Baby,” she said poking him
“Yes love”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing, I’m just soaking in the moment”
“Hmmmmm”
“What? I’m serious. Some processes cant be reduced to verbal explanations. Let’s just say my mind is reminding me of how much of a lucky guy I am. See how you are smiling. I love it when you smile like that”
She ran ahead of him. He chased her.
They arrived at where their mat was, unevenly shaped on the sand, she adjusted the edges and knelt on the mat, opened the basket, the napkin fell on the mat and she picked a bottle of water, rushing it, some dripping on her neck and sliding down her chest. He picked up a can of Heineken, and said I’ll be right back, she stopped drinking the water to ask him what, but he was already walking away. He walked towards a guy sitting a couple of feet behind their mat, selling little wooden statutes.
The sculptor had a weather beaten straw hat, and sat on timbre. He pretended he hadn’t seen Josh coming and rearranged his wooden pieces. Josh on getting to him, formed a shadow over him, the man looked up.
“Oh you are back” The man exclaimed, quickly looking at the Heineken, then at his figurines
“yes”
“Oh that is good,” the man said rearranging his figurines
“Yes, thank you”
“No problem sir, This for me? Thank sir, but I don’t drink.”
“Oh,” Josh said, then added, “how much is this canoe with people inside”
Three thousand Naira, but for you, I give two thousand”
Ok, let me have it. Here you go.
“Thank you, thank you thank you thank you very much sir. I’m sitted here if you still want to go and play in the water, I can watch your things again, no problem”
“Ok man. I appreciate”
Josh turned around.
Seems the tides have risen. Look at how she is seated, her hair on free fall dancing with the wind; I can just stand here looking at her forever. Wish the sculptor was a painter. It will be perfect to have a drawing of her facing the waves, the waves rising and bowing to her. Your royal highness. Love would make you wish you were many things: a painter, a dancer, a singer. With her I am already a King anyway.
You make it look like its magic
Cause I don’t see nobody, nobody but you
You you
Im never confused…
Making your man reminisce the weeknd aren’t you now? That’s what I like about you, you bring out the sensuality in me. Oh look at the tallow glow of the sun, that would have been in the painting, the sun, staring at you in bashful envy.
He, for a moment stood there in front of the sculptor, transfixed, staring at her, with the breeze blowing his shorts, processing as he would say, then he noticed a blip in the waves, looked closer, and it was the hands of somebody. There was a woman by the shore shouting. He dashed towards the sea. Iveren saw him dash past her and was confused. She stood up, everybody’s attention was now at the sea. When she realised what was going on, she put her hands to her mouth. Is he insane she said to herself.
Bare feet, wind slapping ear lopes. People staring. There is usually a life guard where is he? Where is he? Nobody else seemed to be running towards the sea. The woman, is she the mother? Her screams are louder now, and frantic. The tides are really high. Wet shore. Water comes at his ankles. He squinted. Saw the figure and dived into the water. Cold, cold cold. He saw a wave coming and buried his head, then brought up again after the wave passed, saw another and buried his head again. He was pushing under the wave, and brought his head up again. Another wave again. So many waves my God. He went under when..
Continue: https://akukom.com/waves/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › A Blogger's Rant #childnotbride by Akukom(op): 3:40pm On Dec 14, 2018

https://akukom.com/jax_u/2018/12/F53040DD-8A4C-4C7B-B2E8-6B38CDD041A0.jpeg

My neighbour is just 16! How crazy can people be O my God, what is this world turning into… my pregnant neighbour is just 16 and she’s married to a man whose age is no lesser than 45. I can’t even date him and she’s married to him. That’s so insensitive of her parents, its pure wickedness and hatred. I am filled with disgust at the pure insensitivity of humans; this girl can barely take care of herself not to talk of two human beings, I pray she doesn’t suffer complications during child birth. She is just so young; I can’t even imagine my younger sister telling me an older guy is checking her out not to talk of talking marriage with her, I will kill someone. What a wicked world.

Talking to Amanda, she narrated her story to me of how her aunt came to cajole her parents to marry her off to a rich suitor due to their inability to provide the necessary needs of their children which led to her marriage to this paedophile. Well Amanda looks more mature than her age which led to her parents increasing her age and eventually lying to the man about her age, according to her the man later found out and still agreed to marry her that he liked them innocent and city girls aren’t that.

I have watched her these past few months, watched how she had changed from a young, innocent village girl to a young mature woman with loads bigger than her shoulders, her walking system changing due to well we know what, her body becoming quite more attractive leading to all these boys ogling for her body.

I have seen the neighbours turning blind eyes to her predicament but I’m sure they know what she’s going through; we all know what she’s going through in the hands of that man. In all of that I see her pain, her emptiness, her hurt, her envy seeing the young girls going to school why she’s not, the way she feels when she knows she’s stuck in a man’s house with no other future to look forward to; faced with responsibilities that are not meant to be hers at this time of her life all in the name of helping her family.

Why didn’t the boys learn trades, why didn’t they tell them to hawk, why marriage of all things, it’s really horrible, seeing a young girl her age in a man’s house as a wife not a daughter. Girls her age are having boys break their hearts, first loves, they are trying out dresses for parties, they are taking their first bad steps in life, and they are losing their virginity. They are having sleep overs, they are gossiping about cute boys.

Ooo her teenage days are lost in the arms of an older man, in a home as a wife, and with another human coming from her. It’s a sad feeling and a sad thought to think of; it is disheartening that the issue of child marriage has not really been a thing of debate in the world because it still happens and everyone just sympathises from afar with no action whatsoever. The abuse these young ones face in the hands of their husbands, or is it their short lived goals and aspirations or the complications faced during child birth which eventually leads to their death.

Amanda gets beaten, even at that she cleans, cooks, and then her muffled screams from the pain of sexual intercourse with her paedophilic husband… I am going crazy thinking about this, I am going to rescue her from all of this, but how? Kill him my mind says and I think I would go with that…

Weeks, months went by and it was like my plan had been fully laid out; I go to their house to offer a helping hand..
Continue:https://akukom.com/a-bloggers-rant-childnotbride/

Source:[url]Akukom.com[/url]

Business › Budgetary Control And Organizational Performance by Akukom(op): 12:49pm On Dec 12, 2018

Following the uncertainties prevailing in the Nigerian business environment today, managers and stakeholders must be poised and prepared to compete favourably under these rapidly shifting conditions. In order to survive under these environmental complexities and vagueness managers and stakeholders of both private and public sectors need sharp tools, proven management techniques to forecast the major changes which are likely to affect the business while they choose future direction and dimension of resources needed to attain selected goals.
Budgetary control as a proven management tool helps organization management, and enhances improved performance of any economy in different ways. It’s primary function is to serve as a guide in financial planning operators; it also establishes limits for departmental excesses. It helps administrative officials to make careful analysis of all existing operations, thereby justifying expanding, eliminating or restricting present practice. Budgeting and control entails a distinct pattern of decisions in an organization which is capable of determining its objectives, purposes or goals, and how these goals are achieved by establishing principal policies and plans. However, the inability to recognize the problem concerned and fixing a boundary off investigation creates an obstacle for the successful implementation of budgeting and control. Some organization creates an obstacle for the successful implementation of budgeting and control. Some organizations only look for narrow ranges of alternatives which they arrive at from their past expenses and present situation, other management levels even avoid long-term planning and budgeting in favour of today’s problems thereby making the problems of tomorrow more severe. The foregoing reflects on the need for organizations to set up a formal mechanism for scanning its environment for opportunities and give early signs of future problems, this course of action will improve the system of budgeting and control, resulting in an appropriate expectation of improved performance in the manufacturing sector.

POLICY ISSUES
After a preliminary investigation of how budgetary control are linked to the performance of an organization, the researcher through her findings and analysis, came up with the following recommendations to help organizations maximise performance:
• First, organizations..
Continue: https://akukom.com/budgetary-control-and-organizational-performance/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › An Orphan's Tale by Akukom(op): 2:29pm On Dec 11, 2018

There’s this stupid reporter that’s been bugging me, he’s one of my customers, whatever, don’t judge, I’m a prostitute, yeah! So what? I didn’t just have it as a goal when I was growing up, duuh! I’m just one of the few with stories behind their actions, not one of the best resolutions but I had no choice, I was broken, everything I had fantasized about torn away from me within the inkling of an eye, I wasn’t even let to enjoy life or see happiness, first my parents, then the only person I thought could offer me succour used and dumped me.

Anyways let’s move away from the mushy, emotional part of my story. I was a prostitute, a different kind that offered a different type of service… I had a fetish that was having anal sex, well I could take it in both holes and most men liked that, then I am a submissive, I did whatever they asked me to do. Don’t judge yet, wait for the story. I feel so much pain within, like I’m being crushed by a heavy machine…

Stacy I heard, I opened my eyes and I see this reporter well he’s basically the only one I have on planet earth, he was my customer but he claims he’s fallen in love with me, what is love? I don’t think I understand what he means by love, was it not this same love that got me here, I was in love when it all started right, I tell myself.

Maybe I was the one who was in love but the one whom I loved had something else in mind, to make me his slave, the beck and call girl and oh those times I was blinded with the words ‘I love you’, I wanted to please my lover, my support so I thought… Stacy do this, you know I love you, Stacy do that you know I love you, Stacy open up for him you know I love you, Stacy let’s try this, you know I love you… those were his normal statements until they changed to Stacy you’re a slut, why is your vagina so wide, you’re sleeping with other men, you’re not my type and it finally came to Stacy leave my house, I don’t want to ever see you again, you LovePeddler.

I became an illiterate, dirty, smelling LovePeddler… by the way I’m an orphan and I was cohabiting with my lover. At the end I was thrown out, with nowhere to go, no money and no one to run to. I was on the streets with a dirty body, very low self-esteem, and dirty life. I refused to feel anything anymore, I blocked out all emotions and I joined the streams of girls on the streets.

I decided to venture out into BDSM the new in thing, girls were afraid to do it and I made extra cash by also involving in anal sex so I saved up money, got myself a house and I set up my BDSM centre, well I was the submissive.

I felt there was no more to life or even my body, whatever wanted to happen have happened. I started out my new way of making money, to be honest it wasn’t easy, I felt pains, sometimes I enjoyed it, but in all it was the money, I didn’t know why I was doing this but I did it anyway, I was dirty after all…

On the other hand, there was this emptiness that came with wealth, all I ever did with the money was looking good, getting equipment for the betterment of my customers, go for tests. I was dirty right, nobody cared, no one was there to ask after me, if I was happy, sad, no one to listen to me, I was all alone in this cruel world, all alone!!.

Then there came this reporter and my sickness also started. The reporter had frequented my place a number of time but he never touched me, all he ever did was to lay with him and he would cuddle till we slept off, maybe he needed..
Continue:https://akukom.com/an-orphans-tale/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

1 Like

Literature › Re: 6(thriller) by Akukom(op): 3:25pm On Dec 10, 2018

To Direct you to the full Story.

Adamsmith13:
If you know you are not posting the full story why did you bring it here

Literature › 6(thriller) by Akukom(op): 10:15am On Dec 10, 2018

Finally, the sun.

It beat down mercilessly on the people, perhaps in an effort to soak up all the water that had found its way down to the earth in the past few days.

The environment was looking much brighter already, flowers blooming on all sides while the local livestock wandered about, doing whatever they did at this time of the day.

A great day it was destined to be, as it was the day of ‘igba ndu’ festival, One day that the royal gates are thrown open to allow the villagers a direct line of communication with the king as they seek the help of their forefathers in the coming planting season. , nothing could ever go wrong.

The king, a young 37 year old who took over from his father two years ago had made great strides already. A known billoniare who had amassed his wealth in the city and quite suprised everyone by agreeing to become the new king.

He has shown himself to be a just ruler, with the utmost respect for all and sundry, regardless of social status.

The drums beat steadily after noon, the sun having retreated a bit, leaving an aura of calmness behind which suited everyone just fine.

People wasted no time in thronging to the palace in little cliques, the men making small talk about the best time to till the ground while the women went on about whose daughter looks pregnant, and whose son hasn’t been man enough to increase the number of wives in his household.

The entrance of the king and his entourage increased the energy to a crescendo, the drums beat even harder while the screams “igweeeeeee!” from excited subjects filled the air, bringing with it strands of dust from different feet being clamped firmly on the earth.

Unknown to them, disaster was coming, for about 700 yards away, perched on tree was Olivia, known in the underworld as ‘6’ who is probably the deadliest sniper in the continent, armed with a Barett M82 semi-automatic anti-material riffle with 12.7* 99mm ammunition in hand, holding still for the perfect shot.

Back to the palace, the king stood up and after pausing to soak in the adulation of his subjects, raised his hands and all fell silent immediately.

“My people” he began with a smile.

The shot came immediately, piercing the silence and as the king hit the ground from that perfect headshot, pandemonium broke loose, as everyone ran in all directions, screaming on top of their voices.

The guards quickly rushed to the king while a few courageous people stood, their eyes darting in all directions to find where the bullet had come from. It was too late.

‘6’ had successfully dislodged her weapon after giving it a full blown French kiss, made her way down from the tree, slinging..
continue: https://akukom.com/6-2/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › A Trip To Lagos by Akukom(op): 10:27am On Dec 07, 2018

“How much does it cost to get to Lagos?”, i said curtly. #1,000, the driver replied. I paid the fare amidst mixed feelings. I was neither excited or sad about the trip. All thanks to dad’s tales about Lagos.
‘You have to be smart out there’
‘Shine your eyes well in Lagos’
‘It’s a dangerous place’
Dad’s words echoes….
Mum had her fair share of the dreaded Lagos. She once recounted her trip there. She hid her money in her underwear cause everyone was suspected to be robbers. All these dampen my spirit about the city- the bubbling place, the hustle and bustle hub of Naija. How will i survive in such an area? Does that mean there are no sane and good people roaming the streets of Lagos?
Prior to my travelling, i was considering going to Lagos or Abuja for the Easter break which was going to last for three days. Dad suggested i come home or stay back in school. I pondered over it. Going home was going to be a stressful one- spend a day enroute and the break was just for three days, i’ll have to come back on the fourth day. There was no point- i erased it. Going to Abuja was a no-no, staying back in school was the biggest NO. I really need a break from all the academic activities- biochemistry was a living hell. Loads of assignments, assignments and ASSIGNMENTS. I sure need a break from all this. Then a thought struck me, Bola had been insisting i come to visit. This was my chance. A smile broke out on my face. That solves it. Lagos, here i come.
I jolted back to reality when the driver killed the ignition to get gas for the car.
“Where are we? I tried to search for a signpost or advert post.
‘Shagamu’, the guy sitting next to me responded.
How long is it gonna take to get to Lagos? I sighed.
In an hour or two, depending on the situation, he enthused.
Are you new to Lagos? He added.
Yes… What kind of situation? A scowl on my face.
Traffic oooh… He smiled.
The much talked about traffic which can go on for hours. Traffic was a regular for Lagosians.
‘”Please God, let it be traffic free”, I prayed silently.
I’m actually going to Bariga, where will i stop?
‘Alight at Palmgrove. Take the overhead bridge to the other side. You can either board a bus or bike there. My neighbour remarked. I appreciated his kind gestures.
A lady shouted at the back. Obanikoro wa oo… She kept on screaming at the top of her lungs. Obanikoro wa oooo, Obanikoro wa ooo. I had to ask my neighbour, ‘why is she screaming?’ The driver is probably not deaf and besides the conductor is within earshot. He’ll inform him(driver). “Welcome to Lagos”, my neighbour laughed. This is how it’s done. If she doesn’t do that, the driver will take her past her alightment point. He added, ‘ you need not shout, just keep on reminding them. Don’t worry, i’m stopping same place as you. I’ll do the mention.
Gala! Gala!! Gala!!! Buy your gala here!!! The voice of the gala seller echoing in my ears. Gosh!!! these lagosians are noisy. Everywhere, noise- from the bus to the streets, seems noise is their livewire here. I trudge my way through the sea of people to the other side of the road. A guy bumped into me. Aaah… Sorry, sorry, he begged.
Why are these people always in a hurry? I sighed. Flashback to stories heard about people bumping into others and their belongings and possessions go AWOL. I rummaged through my bag.
Thank God, my hand on my chest. The money in my purse was intact, my debit cards in sight. Thanks for this, my eyes gazing into the sky.
What next? Get a bus going to Popoola street. I walked down the bus stop. Saw a mob right there. In the midst of them were two persons smeared with blood, fighting tooth and nail.
“God, can i just get home, already? I’m tired of all these dramas. My hands up in the air. The people looked on, cheering them. Few persons were taking the video footage of the fight.
“Are these people for real?” I mused. I better get going. I cannot be involved in..
Continue: https://akukom.com/a-trip-to-lagos/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

1 Like

Literature › What I Did For Love by Akukom(op): 9:50am On Dec 05, 2018

He rode through the city
He rode all night
He rode through the darkness
His passion…His light
Over the hills on high
He rode to a woman’s sigh
His life..he forfeit..for a woman’s kiss.
For she was his treasure and poison
His broken vow..
His pure Bliss..
He rode to her every night..
For every night..she was his.
Before dawn..he is gone
Away on Love’s back
As the sun shone
He swore he wouldn’t go back
Then the sun sets
Guess who is riding back?
Everything he swore under the sun
He forgets..
But tonight was different..
Tonight..
He never made it passed the gate
Nemesis caught up to him
She is never late.
He laid on the ground..
With darkness around..
The taste of his beloved on his tongue
Prayers were prayed..
Songs were sung..
The bell was rung..His time was up..
Brothers…my brothers..
My day is done..my night is come..
I choose death in place of life..
For I have tasted the king’s wife..
His last words
Before the axe swung
Head separated from body
An end to a love forbidden

Source: https://akukom.com/what-i-did-for-love/
More Poems by Author: https://akukom.com/author/unholy-ghost/

Jokes Etc › The Smart Drunkard by Akukom(op): 2:23pm On Dec 03, 2018

Mr Martins, After drinking 8 bottles of beer was so pressed, in his subconscious mind, he knew he needed to pass excretion.

“I need to use the rest room” he said, whispering to the 8th bottle of beer which was half empty. He went inside the hotel’s rest room to urinate and on entering the toilet, he saw the reflection of himself on the mirror and shouted to his own image…”Oh, sorry I badged into your privacy, I never noticed somebody was using this room when I opened the door”. So he shut the door, without easing himself he walked back to the 8th bottle of bear and said to it with a warm smile “Dear Friend I’m sure you missed me for a while”. He then emptied it in his mouth and decided to go home.

After drinking, Mr Martins got up and started searching for his phone all around which he was actually holding in his own hand. He puts on the phones’ torch light (the one he is looking for) to enable him look for the phone on top of the table filled with empty bottles of beer he took. Along the line, the same phone rang, it was his own wife…he picked up and answered “Darling please call me back, I’m looking for my phone, I will be home soon as soon I find my missing phone”.

He then walked to car garrage, entered his car and drove off, on getting to the major road, he saw “Dangote’s trailer” that has been there..
Full Story: https://akukom.com/the-smart-drunkard/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › The Smart Drunkard(comedy) by Akukom(op): 12:54pm On Dec 03, 2018*

Literature › Stolen Happiness: A Journey That Never Began by Akukom(op): 7:45am On Nov 30, 2018

‘‘Welcome dad’’, Nene greeted but got a ‘‘keep your greetings to yourself’’ as response. Nene was the first child of her mum, who is now married to Abel Daniel, a dark skinned man in his late thirties. His job as a security guard on weekends compliments his earnings from being a cobbler during weekdays.

Abel’s marriage to Nene’s mum had been somewhat blissful, well, not until he began to be turned on sexually by Nene’s developing features. Then the pestering began. When all efforts to get into Nene’s pant proved abortive; he resorted to the habit of cooking up lies against poor Nene which were most times occasioned by diverse forms of maltreatment and even denial of food.

Beatrice; Nene’s mum is an average height chubby woman who is in her early thirties. She is a food vendor at the state’s capital city which is just a fifteen minutes’ drive from her house. She gave birth to Nene when she was eighteen to her teenage boyfriend who denied responsibility. She had been taking care of Nene until the arrival of her children with Abel which diverted her priorities towards them.

Nene is a tall, light skinned, good looking girl. Puberty had been kind to her, giving her a full round chest which usually caused a stare. The misunderstanding she had with her mum led to her not supporting education anymore leaving Nene with no choice of sponsoring herself through secondary school. She worked as a waitress at Food Republic and Oh God! She could draw, so she sold her artworks at the eatery. Despite promises of gifts from her male pervert customers she never resorted to advances made by them but worked hard so she could take care of herself and see herself through school. She was not diligent at her place of work but also at school; despite her busy and exhausting schedule still squeezed out time to study, making her top of her class every academic year.

A year later, Nene sat for the West African Senior Secondary School Certificate Examinations, (WASSCE) and passed with flying colours. Joy without bounds filled her heart but it didn’t last long. Mr Abel started his persuasion for sex afresh this time with different tactics including promises of gifts and sponsoring her university education which she resisted consistently. Finally, one fateful day he came up with a devious plan to be kind to her; He offered Nene a cold glass of apple juice and a bowl of coconut rice with a big lap of fried chicken. ‘‘This is suspicious’’, Nene thought to herself. She had eaten nothing since morning except a sausage roll and a bottle of coke she had at work. ‘‘Thanks, I am not hungry’’, she said; ‘‘But I want you to eat’’ he insisted. She finally accepted and devoured the food quickly. Unknown to her, the apple juice had a sedative in it and she drank all of it without noticing the slight difference in taste. In no time, she felt weak and drowsy; sleep engulfed her like a helpless animal in a cage that cannot break free. Happy as Mr Abel could be, he hurriedly took off her clothes while she laid on the sofa and wore a condom he had in his pocket, but was confused which part to exploit first. He ended up choosing her full round breasts and had fun with them, with her little nipples in his mouth most of the time. Her temple was next as he gently caressed it. Finally he was in; enjoying the tightness it offered, forward and backward was the motion for the next twenty minutes till his condom was filled. He got his sweaty body off her and carried her naked along with her clothes to her room and hurried back to clean the blood stains before heading to his bathroom to freshen up though he had nothing to fear because her mum and her siblings had gone to the village to see their grandmother.

The morning of the next day, Nene woke up naked, feeling uneasy she touched herself and noticed the difference; but sadly all she could remember was she came back tired, ate and slept off. She went to the bathroom to freshen up and couldn’t help but drown herself in thoughts of why she woke up naked because it was never a habit of her to sleep naked and why she was feeling sore in her privates. She came out, got dressed and checked the time and realized she was already an hour late for daily shift as she hurriedly picked her phone and hand bag and dashed out of the room. She locked the front door as she presumed Mr Abel had gone to his business station. Evening came, her working hours were over, she strolled back home with Abigail, her new friend. Abigail was the newest employee in her work place was unarguably the only one she could relate with since they were both the same age. Nene and Abigail talked about almost everything; their likes, dislikes, families, and all one could ever imagine. ‘‘Dem no reach, with their kpomo leg?’’ Abigail said in a seemingly loud voice when Nene said that Chelsea will win Real Madrid in the Champions League Final that was to be played the next day. ‘‘I’ve been having this strange feeling all day’’ Nene said. She was about continuing, Abigail keened up with eagerness to listen, Nene’s phone rang; ‘‘Come home now!’’ her mum shouted over the phone. ‘‘I am sorry, I have to go, mum just called’’ Nene apologised as she boarded the next available taxi which hurriedly drove her to the house. ‘‘Thank you’’ she said as she handed the taxi driver his fare. She dashed into the house wondering in fear what bad thing she had done. ‘‘Come over here you stupid child’’ her mum roared as she entered the Living room.

‘‘Mummy, you are back? Welcome’’
‘‘Keep your welcome to yourself’’ she replied
Who did you bring home last night? She asked
‘‘No one, I came home alone yesterday ’’ Nene replied
In no time two hot slaps were stylishly placed on her cheeks as she roared further
What is a used condom doing in my living room?
Used condom? Nene asked
“I go reset your brain ooh, sometin dey worry you for head”? She thundered
‘‘Make I do like say nothing happen, but the next time you try am ehn, you go hear am’’ she said.

Lucky Abel stood behind the door the whole time listening to the conversation between the two and waited some minutes before coming in. He went into his room without wasting time and met his wife who narrated the story to him but responded with no words except shaking his head in disapproval. He cut her short by asking if there was food, of which he was served and afterwards slept like a man with no worries.

The normal hustle began the next morning, every man to their respective work stations while the children sat at home since it was the holiday period. Jane being the eldest of the children was given the sceptre of authority for the day. She was to make lunch for herself and her brothers. How hard can preparing a meal of cereal and buttered bread be for a twelve year old?

As fate had it well planned out, Nene came back earlier than usual from work, she had been vomiting at work and she was left with no choice but to excuse herself back home. Could I be pregnant? She thought to herself while walking back home. From the little knowledge she has acquired from Abigail, vomiting was one of the signs; ‘‘but I have not had sex yet’’ she said as she dismissed the thought. She was home; her siblings were fast asleep after long hours of play. Abel dashed into the house few minutes later as she was leaving the kitchen after taking the dosage as prescribed by the man at the patent medicine shop to reduce her stomach upset. ‘‘Come to my room now’’ Abel requested. She got to her room, dropped her bag and hurried off to his room. What is it this time? She thought to herself as she entered his room. ‘‘Come help me look for my glass case, he requested. Nene obeyed as she went to the corner of the room where he carelessly dumps his books. She bent over looking for it carefully until she felt something hard pressed against her buttocks going up and down. She turned around and there was Abel with his third leg so swollen.

What are you doing? Nene asked
Come here, how hard can you be? He asked
What are talking about?
‘‘You know what I mean; I have promised you a helping hand in your university education’’.
‘‘Get away from me you disgusting pig’’ she roared
‘‘Shut up’’, he said..
Continue: https://akukom.com/stolen-happiness-a-journey-that-never-began/

SOurce: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › Ungagged by Akukom(op): 9:22am On Nov 28, 2018

The sound of car horns permeated the still Lagos air. It had been raining for about a week but the nights were hot and uncomfortable. Rissa adjusted her weight in her seat between a young man and an elderly woman at the back of the bus. The bus was crammed to the teeth. The conductor had instructed that five passengers were to be seated per row. It was one of those Volkswagen ancient buses. Despite the terrible inconvenience, the bus driver was charging 300 naira from Obalende to Yaba. Ordinarily it should have cost about 150 naira but this is Lagos and taking advantage of precarious situations was the order of the day.

“Oga please shift small, the metal part of the seat is what I’m sitting on” complained a lady sitting on the detachable sit beside the door.

“Shift to where? You see space for here?” the man replied angrily and hissed.

The lady not surprised at his outburst replied angrily as well. “I can clearly see the space between your legs you used to put your bag. You can afford to shift.”

“See this rubbish girl oh, na me send you make you fat? The space wey you sit down for, two people fit stay there. Abeg nor give me stress oh!” He looked menacing in the dim glow from the tiny bulb hanging from the headliner of the bus. Some of the passengers just ignored the man’s insults and just watched on for drama. “You shouldn’t have spoken to her like that oga.” Rissa piped up. She hated how these men unabashedly abused fat women. Other voices joined in to criticise the rude man’s behaviour. After a threatening warning from the conductor, the man eventually shifted. The lady thanked the other passengers in the bus while the man hissed.

It was a common habit in Lagos for people to fat shame women who weren’t as slim as others. Sometimes, they would be refused entry into the bus on the ground that they could only ride the bus if they agreed to pay for two seats because of their size. Rissa had experienced her own share of embarrassing moments on buses. She was just counting down the days till her entry level position would become junior asset manager so she could afford her own car and avoid the insults.

The bus crawled slowly in the traffic. It took about three hours before she could finally get home. I need to either leave this country or move closer to the Island, Rissa thought to herself as she climbed the stairs to her room.

Rissa had studied estate management in the University. She was one of the ‘lucky’ ones who got a good job for their NYSC placements. Shortly after her service year she was retained at Sunrise Capital. She did market research for investments in Nigeria. She lived at Alagomeji in Yaba with her aunt’s family. After a quick shower she checked her email notifications. Another debit alert from Guaranteed Trust Bank, 150 naira for SMS fees, but it’s not even close to the end of the month; Rissa groaned inwardly. She had to get some extra money before the end of that week. She had spent a considerable sum of her savings on transport and her last month’s salary had been used to purchase a new prosthetic leg for her younger brother Raymond. Her mum worked as a nurse at Luth. Her dad was a retired Construction Engineer. Combining his pension and her mum’s salary would not be enough to get him the prosthtic leg he needed so she had volunteered to pitch in.

A call from Anwuli snapped her out of her reverie. “Babe I’m close to that Dominos at Yaba, I’m meeting up with Mark from that Insense shipping company.” She said hurriedly. “Hi Anwuli, I’m sure you’re fine, I’m fine too thanks for asking.” Rissa replied sarcastically. “Aunty I’m sorry, I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all.”

Rissa huffed. “You! Anwuli! Nervous to see a man, why?”

“He’s the German guy I told you about “Anwuli cried impatiently.

“Is this a work related meet up?” Rissa asked

Anwuli exhaled and then responded, “not exactly.” “Their company has my firm on retainer. He came to the office for a meeting recently and my department is handling a dispute they were having with NIMASA. He sort of took an interest in me after that but this is the first time I’m meeting him outside the office.” she sighed.

It dawned on Rissa that Anwuli was interested in this guy.

“You’re beautiful and brilliant Anwuli, I don’t think you have anything to be worried about” Rissa said in an encouraging voice.

“Thanks dear, my dad also can’t know I’m meeting up with foreign men at night.” She trailed off lauging.

Anwuli’s dad is a retired Brigadier General in the Army. He was quite cotrolling about her movements. While her mom worked at NNPC so she was relatively comfortable financially. She had her own car because of her dad’s grouse with the Lagos public transport system. She lived with her parents. She was one of Rissa’s best friends.

“You’re welcome dear. Let me know when you’re done. I could use some Cold Stone Ice Cream tonigh.” Rissa said running her hands through her short braids.”

As soon as the call ended, messages from Olamide, Selene and Ediseh popped up. The girls had made a group chat where they could keep tabs on each other easily.

Rissa logged in to her Upwork account to search for jobs. Rissa was a pretty good graphics illustrator. In her spare time at the university she learnt graphics designing. She loved how proficient she was at using Adobe photoshop for her illustrations. She made book covers and arts for writers on writing platforms. Selene was the only person she did free graphics for.

She scrolled through the messages. Olamide had registered all the girls for the GT Bank Fashion Weekend. She was contracted to help with the set up for the event. The girls all seemed excited to be going. Rissa didn’t particularly love these fashion shows.

They made her more self-conscious of her weight and she didn’t need that right now. She feigned some excuse about not being able to attend which was partially true. She needed to finish a report she had started earlier that day at the office and she would love to use the office Wi-Fi for her Upwork job hunting. The girls seemed bummed that she wouldn’t be able to make it.

Thirty minutes after she started drawing the characters in her new comic she dozed off. She didn’t realise she had slept off on her table till her 4a.m alarm rang.

She bolted off the table and immediately felt the strain in her neck. She tried to massage her neck. It was quite stiff. She moved gingerly to her bed and propped her pillow under her chin. The next time she saw colours, It was 8;30 am.

“Hey 8:30!” Rissa groaned and got out of bed.

Rissa hurried through her shower and breakfast. Placing her tab carefully in her bag, she set off for the office.

The roads were relatively traffic free, she said a quick thank you prayer to God as she stepped in to the gate.

“Madam, good morning” Musa the gateman greeted.

“Good Morning Musa, have a great day” Rissa replied.

She took the steps to her office floor. She stepped in, a couple people were in. The accounts manager in the pensions department and some of his team members seemed to be having some team meeting. She walked to her department office and sat at her desk. Put in the office wifi password on her tab and placed it on the table as she got to work on her report.

Rissa you need to leave here before 2 pm , she said to herself. She started the report and within three hours she had made considerable progress. She finished by 1 and did her final proofreading before sending it to her department head.

“Clarissa” a slightly unfamiliar voice called. Rissa turned, searching for the strange voice calling her by her full name. No one called her Clarissa, not even her parents.

A tall, dark bespectacled man was walking towards her with his eyes trained on her. She racked her brain for its database of faces. He was the new regional manager. She mentally face palmed herself. He had resumed earlier that week.

“Good afternoon sir.” She greeted politely. The man was easily in his late twenties, younger than the previous regional manager. How he knew her name she didn’t understand.

“Oh please no need to be so formal,” he said with a slight Yoruba accent.

“Alright then, hello Mr Adekunle.” He extended his hand for her to shake , she shook him but his grip lingered just enough to make her a bit uncomfortable.

“What are you doing in the office on a Saturday?” He chuckled softly.

“I just had a few things to tidy up. I was about to leave.” Rissa did not like how he was sizing her up. He licked his lips indiscreetly.

“Would you mind discussing some files with me. I’ve been told you are the research wiz in your department.” He said with his eyes trained on her chest. Rissa was becoming even more uncomfortable with the turn of events.

“Sir, if you don’t mind we could discuss them on Monday.” Rissa replied warily, the office was eerily quiet...

Continue: https://akukom.com/ungagged-aswc1/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › Re: Monkey Tail(captivating Story) by Akukom(op): 6:40pm On Nov 26, 2018

The writer is amazing.
Luper Tarkaa is his name.

[url]Akukom.com[/url] allows for writers/the public to share their Literature/stories with the world.

nijabazaar:
I went to the link....

You are terrific.. .

Why is it tgat any author who writes about the civil war wins hearts?

Literature › Monkey Tail(captivating Story) by Akukom(op): 7:34am On Nov 26, 2018

Leke passed the several bars that lined Square Lane, the road which led to the village square. He did not go into any of them because they were crowded, he kept walking till he came across Monkey Tail Bar. It was empty except for a sinewy bar-man who stood behind the counter. It was just the kind of place he was looking for, where he could be alone with a bottle of kai kai.
He chose the darkest corner of the bar to sit in and ordered a bottle of the vile drink, kai kai, which most of the village men favoured. His solitude was not meant to last, the bar’s door loudly swung open and a scraggy man staggered into the bar. He stood in the middle of the room and studied Leke, then he finally staggered over to Leke’s table.
Leke stared at the man, then looked around the room and wondered whether the man did not see the other tables.
“Agbo my man,” the man slurred to the bar-man. “Agbo, give me pami.” Pami is a local wine extracted from the sap of the palm tree.
Leke watched as the man swallowed a deep draught of pami from a gourd. He stared at the man’s abnormally large adam’s apple which bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The man wiped his hand across his mouth, then belched loudly. Leke shifted in his chair and eyed him with irritation. The man stared back sleepily. He wore an old pair of khaki trousers and an old t-shirt that must have been red or pink, it was hard to tell from how faded it looked. He seemed to be in his fifties, but he must not have been that old. Most of the elderly men in the village were younger than they looked, this was only one of the scars from the war that ended a decade ago, and of course the drinking too. He let out another loud belch.
The man took one sleepy glance at Leke, then studied the whitish liquid in his gourd before gulping down the whole thing. Belch.
He started to croak a song. It was a war song that was popular among the old soldiers. Leke must have known it.
“I followed you,” the man said when he stopped to sing. “You passed the other joints where there are people, lots of drink and music and fine fine girls. Why?” Leke did not answer.
“You were walking like a zombie that is tired of living.” He laughed at his own joke till he started to cough, then he ordered another gourd of pami when he stopped coughing.
Leke only looked at him, the man stared back with half closed eyes. He brought out a broken cigarette and started to smoke.
“Agbo, this one does not talk?” he asked the bar-man.
“Maybe you should go back to the music and fine fine girls. The man does not want your company, let him be”
“Hmm, you don’t talk?” the old man asked. “Well I have a lot to talk about. In fact, a story to tell. You see, everyone has got tired of hearing my stories. Even Agbo, that skinny goat.” The bar-man only laughed.
“But you my young friend, you seem like you’ll be here for a while.” The old man said, eyeing Leke’s half full bottle of kai kai. “So story time it is.
“Where should I start?” he asked with his eyes now gleaming. “Oh, yes. Would you believe me if I told you I was once on my way to being a priest? A Catholic priest, yes, a Father. I even left my girlfriend for priesthood.” He shook his head and smiled. “She was lovely and my mother liked her. She cried herself to sleep in my mother’s room the day I told her I wanted to become a priest, her crying almost made me change my mind. My mother tried to talk me out of it but my mind was made up, she didn’t talk to me for months afterwards. You see, I was her only child and she thought I would give her grandchildren someday. My father had several other children from his many wives, so one son going to the seminary didn’t bother him. In fact, he said I was the family’s gateway to heaven.
“My mother gave up trying to change my mind after I had spent two years at the seminary, she said she couldn’t fight God, that she shouldn’t have christened me Samuel, maybe I would have been different. And she brought my girlfriend with her the first few times.
“See, it was the white Father in our parish, Father Rudolph that first put the thought in my head. I was a teacher in the mission school and he was our headmaster. I was fresh out from the Teachers’ Training College. He saw me teaching one day and asked me to see him in his office after school. I went to see him and he told me how brilliant I was, and that a young and brilliant man like me would be a good priest. He said the ‘Church’ was in need of native priests and he saw a perfect one in me. He said a lot of things that had me hooked, like I might become the first native Bishop around these parts and that he would take care of my needs, I wouldn’t have to worry and a bunch of other things. He made me believe it was God talking to me, calling me. So my poor mother and my crying girlfriend couldn’t change my mind.”
Samuel paused to light another cigarette. “Agbo, this one is still sitting here, he’s liking my story.”
“I bet you Sammy, he’ll be back tomorrow for another story.” Agbo said, laughing.
“I was a good seminarian.” Samuel continued. “That’s what everybody said. They even said I looked immaculate in my cassock, I looked priestlier than our white Father. I felt like the Holy Father, the Pope.
“My ordination was months away, I had already bought new vestments for it. Then gboom!” he slapped the table. “Just like that, the killings in the North started and before we knew what was happening the country was thrown into a civil war. It was a terrible mess, it was. People stopped coming to church because they were afraid they would get bombed, anything that looked like a large gathering of people was bombed by enemy planes. Father Rudolph left when all missionaries were asked to leave the country, I bet you he was happy to leave.” He motioned to Agbo to give him another gourd.
“Three of my brothers joined the army, no one has heard from them since. They are probably manure for some tree in the forest. When the army was no longer getting recruits, they started conscripting young men and boys. Ah! Those were evil days.
“One morning, a group of soldiers stormed the church, my door was knocked down from its hinges and a group of boy soldiers, the oldest not more than seventeen, dragged me outside. Their leader, they called him ‘Commander’, stood outside with a revolver on his belt, he was a large man with a bald head and beady eyes. Some of the boys carried rifles while the rest wielded machetes and long knives. They dumped me on the ground before their Commander. He asked me why I was still sleeping, he asked if I didn’t know the country was at war. He said...

Continue:https://akukom.com/monkey-tail-aswc1/

Source: [url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › Love In A Time Of Secession(drama) by Akukom(op): 2:11pm On Nov 17, 2018

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me but since I met you, my day is only completer when I hear your voice,” Obi speaks into his phone.
“Awwwww, the feeling is mutual,” Rahila, replies.
“What’s that?” Obi asks.
“What’s ‘what’?” Rahila asks too.
“’the feeling is mutual’, are you suffering from mumps?”
Rahila feigns anger and refuses to respond to Obi for well over 45 seconds. When she will not respond to his “I’m sorry”, “are you there?”, “please, talk to me”, he resorts to flattery.
“Omalicha’nwa! Omaa!” Obi teases. “My tomato Jos, my ego oyinbo”
Rahila bursts out laughing. “This guy has sweet mouth,” she says to herself and he just knows the right words to use. What makes her laugh, though, is “ego oyinbo” (my foreign currency). How an Igbo man can conveniently slip money into a love talk and still sound sweet, is what she cannot comprehend.
“You know I love you too, Obim. You are my muse. My heart skips a beat each time your name appears on my phone screen. You make me. . .”
“E don do, my ego oyinbo”, Obi cuts in. “I know that. I just want to hear you say it. The magic your voice does to me, I can’t explain”.
Rahila giggles and confesses to feigning anger just to hear him beg.
“Go joor,” Obi replies, half-laughing and just loving the fact that his feelings, no, not feelings, devotion. Yes, the right word is devotion, mixed with commitment, laced with a pinch of love and respect for her, is growing by the day.
He met her when he came for the National Union of Journalist, NUJ, national convention in Jos. Theirs isn’t love at first sight. She sat across from him during the two-day convention. What struck him about her is her intelligence, ability to think outside the box and most importantly, her receptiveness. She’s the most unassuming person he has ever met. They continued talking after the convention and after a visit back to Jos, their love story blossomed.
“Have a great day Oma and be a blessing to someone today, okay,” Obi finally says.
“Alright Obim, I will. I’ll make sure Henry, Ben, O.J, Abdul and Kaynoe get blessed by me today”.
“Yes o, make sure John your cubicle neighbor, his father, grand-father, grand uncle, paternal great grand-father and. . .”
By now, Rahila is laughing hysterically. Obi’s dry humor, mixed with sarcasm, doled out in a calm way, is one of the things that makes her look forward to his phone calls. There is never a drab moment talking with Obi.
A loud crashing noise interrupts her laughter. The sound came from Obi’s end.
“What’s that noise?” Rahila asks Obi. “Hello! Hello!! Obi are you there?”
In a far-away voice, Obi assures her that he’s alright and will call her as soon as possible.
“Alright, be careful and stay safe,” she says to a dead line because he had dropped the call as soon as he was done speaking. “Please keep him safe, Lord,” Rahila prays.
____________
Rushing out, Obi could not believe his eyes. The source of the sound is that of two armored tanks, crashing (deliberately, he can’t say) into Nnayi Emma high stocked crates of drinks that were delivered early morning for his bar business. To crown it all, these armored tanks are not the conventional ones he is familiar with. They look like something out of a Stephen Spielberg’s film.
Obi walks towards his friend, Chekwuebe, who’s discussing with some “yard” boys.
“Nna, wetin dey happen?” Obi asks in pidgin as is normal with how he converses with Chekwuebe.
“Nna mehn, as you see am so, I no get idea.”
“What kind of car is this?” Nneoma, a ‘slay queen’ asks. Everyone turns to look at her. She’s putting on a bum shorts under and an orange tank top that is barely covering her heavy cleavage. Her face, with traces make-up, is dull as she looks like she just woke up from sleep. On a normal day, her question would have sent Obi and his friends rolling on bare ground with laughter but, today is far from a normal day.
“It’s called an armored tank” Obi manages to rely her.
“Armored tank kwa, what is it for and what are those long sticks on top of it?” she ask further.
The question thoroughly irritates Obi who is trying to get the full gist of the “invasion”. But come to think of it, didn’t Nneoma claim to be a third year student of Bio-chemistry in the State University? Confirming that is for another day. Just then, he heard a familiar sound- Robin Thicke’s “Lost without you” is competing with the noise around it. Of course it’s his sweet heart.
“Hello”
____________
Hello? Am I hearing right, Rahila asks herself. Obi salutes her so, if they have a misunderstanding. He always responds with “Oma”, “ego oyinbo” or “my tomato Jos.”
She’ll let it slide today.
“Are you there?” she hears Obi’s impatient voice through the receiver. She snaps back and responds.
“Yes love, what’s happening up there? Are you alright? What made that noise?” she asks in one breath.
Obi realizes how he answered and tries to make it up.
“It’s some army armored tanks, Oma, with countless army trucks passing through our street.”
“What made that sound then?”
“It’s my neighbor’s drinks that was stocked up outside his bar. I don’t know how some of the tanks ran into it.”
“Was that deliberate or what?”
“Obviously it is”
“Anyway be careful and talk to you later”
“I love you, Oma”
“I love you too dear” Rahila replies and clicks the end button. She dresses up and heads out to work.
In the bus, Rahila keeps hearing some Igbo people talking repeatedly about “Python dance.” As she walks the remaining distance between the bus stop and her office, she chuckles as she thinks of the incredulity of a python dancing. To what now? “Come to think of it, does a python dance?” she asks out loud to no one in particular.
“Good morning ma,” Jemimah the receptionists greets Rahila as she walks into their station’s complex.
“Morning Mima, hope you slept well?”
“Yes ma”
“Good. By the way Mima, have you ever seen a python dancing?”
“Ma huh

” Mima responds with a wide-eyed blank look.
“Never mind,” Rahila says and marches on to her cubicle.
As she sits to take out some of her personal effects from her hand bag to put on the table, Kaynoe walks up to her corner and after exchanging pleasantries, he asks.
“Ever seen a python dancing?”
“You took the question out of my mouth,” Rahila replies. “What’s with all that? I kept hearing that from some Igbo men in the bus I boarded to work today.” Just then, her phone beeps to notify her of a new message on Facebook. She quickly checks as she listens to Kaynoe talk of his experience in the bus too. Obi’s status on Facebook reads, “Egwu Eke”
“Kaynoe,” she calls after him as he makes to leave her cubicle. “What’s the meaning of ‘Egwu Eke’?”
“Roughly translated, it means snake dance,” Kaynoe responds. “Wait, are you sure it’s not related to this python dance thing?”
Being a born investigator, Rahila dials Obi’s line. After five rings, he picks the call and tells her that he’d call back and drops the call. Somehow, this action did not bother her because her mind is already working -trying to connect the dots. Armored tanks in Uahia. Igbo’s angry conversation in the bus about Python Dance. Obi’s status that means snake dance.
She begins to dial another number.
_____________________
This is one week since the “invasion” of the army in Uahia and surrounding. The army’s operation, code named Python dance, is meant to quell down the Secessionist activities of the BOPE- Bonafide People of the East.
Obi’s anger and frustration knows no bounds as he recounts the events of the past six hours
“Sir, kindly give me back my tablet,” Obi tells the army officer with the badge name reading Ghaddafi Umar. “I was not covering anything. You saw it on the table so you can’t say I was video-covering you.”
In a split second, Ghaddafi throws the Samsung Galaxy tablet to the ground and smashes it with his Jackboot. The crushing sound, is one Obi will not forget in a hurry-not because of the tab, but because of the twisted anger and pain that accompanied the crushing sound as the show of ignorance and “power” continues. Obi looks at Ghaddafi’s guns and what remains of his tab and walked away to his cubicle.
That tab is worth more than half of his one-year savings from the meagre pay he receives as a reporter for Maple Press.
“Bring out your phones and electronic gadgets,” barks another army officer with a badge name reading Dantata Aliyu.
Obi watches on as his colleagues’ phones and tabs met the same fate as his. Even their midgets were not spared.
“What’s the meaning of this madness?” asks Chekwuebe.
“What?” Dantata asks in feigned shock. “You dare to question me?” He asks as he moves towards Chekwuebe to butt him with his gun but is stopped by Babawo Ganja, his colleague.
“This is what you get for sending out false, unconfirmed reports to the gullible Public.” Babawo announces to all the teeming Journalists present in the Uahia NUJ centre. “You incite the locals and paint us black before the international community, this is what you get for being unprofessional.”
The army officers begin to troop into their vans.
“Hey you, will you keep rolling,” Braimah, Obi’s torturer brings him out of his woolgathering. Obi rolls over in the cold mud. He thanks God that the rain is now in drizzles as his mind lulls back to the previous hours’ events.
As the army van drives out of the National Union of Journalists’ Centre, the chairman drives in with his entourage. His fit of anger is obvious as the veins in his necking are visible and his eyes, red.
“What effrontery!” he begins. “What effrontery!!” he continues. “What effrontery!!!” he ends. There’s a chaotic uproar as..

continue:https://akukom.com/love-in-the-time-of-secession/

Source:[url]Akukom.com[/url]

Literature › Bottom Pot by Akukom(op): 8:11pm On Nov 09, 2018

You ran your hands through your short thick ebony black hair. “There had to be a way,” you thought, to fight this battle. Then again, you were not a woman given to fighting. You thought and over thought every problem, and when Seun didn’t come to the rescue you let the tears fall. It didn’t matter that you were thirty eight, and mother to two beautiful children. You were young at heart, a grown adult who would rather stay home and watch Winnie the Pooh. You looked over Seun’s phone again. The Samsung Galaxy Note 9 was frail in your hands and for a moment, you resisted the urge to let it fall to the ground. “Evidence is most important,” Ginika would say. Now it was. You typed in the password you had almost broken your neck to acquire and the phone screen greeted you. Maybe it was a lie. You checked the Whatsapp messages and saw her photos glaring at you. She was beautiful, undeniably so. Seun had good eyes, and like all his exes she was light skinned. “Oyinbo”, “Lepa” and all the many things you were not. She couldn’t be more than twenty eight, and there she was sending Seun pictures. Making him ask for more. Little wonder he had been absent minded for days. He crept into the house in the mornings, and disappeared with the excuse of going to work. “How dare he?” You looked at the large wall mirror again for assurance. Your face was still oval and beautifully dark but your cheeks had developed the puffiness of akara balls. Your arms were what Ginika called “Christian sister arms”, flabby and dimpling. Your once flat stomach had rose like rice boiled in water to become as big as a bag of garri at Onitsha market. Your once prominent behind looked smaller because your chest had grown in multiple proportions Seun had been complaining of the wrappers you tied around the house and the Moju powder you loved to rub around your neck, like it was a beautiful necklace. It was hot anyways, and you were so busy trying to care for him and the children that you didn’t care how you looked. “Was that a valid reason?” Seun had changed, too. His hairline was thinning. He had developed a beer belly that was as big as that of a woman in her third trimester. He no longer wore those nice smelling colognes that drew you to him. He now smelt of beer and sweat and honestly, you were tired. Oh!!!If only Ginika were there. Ginika, your 200 Level roommate..

full Story: https://akukom.com/bottom-pot/
Source: www.akukom.com

Literature › 6(thriller) by Akukom(op): 3:53pm On Nov 09, 2018

Finally, the sun.

It beat down mercilessly on the people, perhaps in an effort to soak up all the water that had found its way down to the earth in the past few days.

The environment was looking much brighter already, flowers blooming on all sides while the local livestock wandered about, doing whatever they did at this time of the day.

A great day it was destined to be, as it was the day of ‘igba ndu’ festival, One day that the royal gates are thrown open to allow the villagers a direct line of communication with the king as they seek the help of their forefathers in the coming planting season. , nothing could ever go wrong.

The king, a young 37 year old who took over from his father two years ago had made great strides already. A known billoniare who had amassed his wealth in the city and quite suprised everyone by agreeing to become the new king.

He has shown himself to be a just ruler, with the utmost respect for all and sundry, regardless of social status.

The drums beat steadily after noon, the sun having retreated a bit, leaving an aura of calmness behind which suited everyone just fine.

People wasted no time in thronging to the palace in little cliques, the men making small talk about the best time to till the ground while the women went on about whose daughter looks pregnant, and whose son hasn’t been man enough to increase the number of wives in his household.

The entrance of the king and his entourage increased the energy to a crescendo, the drums beat even harder while the screams “igweeeeeee!” from excited subjects filled the air, bringing with it strands of dust from different feet being clamped firmly on the earth.

Unknown to them, disaster was coming, for about 700 yards away, perched on tree was Olivia, known in the underworld as ‘6’ who is probably the deadliest sniper in the continent, armed with a Barett M82 semi-automatic anti-material riffle with 12.7* 99mm ammunition in hand, holding still for the perfect shot.

Back to the palace, the king stood up and after pausing to soak in the adulation of his subjects, raised his hands and all fell silent immediately.

“My people” he began with a smile.

The shot came immediately, piercing the silence and as the king hit the ground from that perfect headshot, pandemonium broke loose, as everyone..

Full Story:https://akukom.com/6-2/

Source: www.akukom.com

Literature › Madam(an Intriguing Story)(chapter 6-11) by Akukom(op): 5:38pm On Nov 08, 2018

CHAPTER 6
Cynthia was getting tired of following Henry. She began to sweat profusely after riding for a long time. Her thighs were beginning to ache, her eyes were sleepy, and a headache was coming on. But she wouldn’t just leave her Madam in the hands of that dreadful beast, hence she was prepared to follow till the end. It started to feel like forever before Henry finally pulled over to the right side of the road.

Cynthia quickly brought her bike to a stop, got down silently from the bicycle and ran into the nearest bush hiding she could find. Henry had parked his car quite farther ahead, so she didn’t need to fear being caught, but she remained cautious. Cynthia heard the car’s door open, footsteps, another door opening, the falling of a body into the bush, doors being shut, then the car zooming off at great speed.

She heaved a heavy sigh of relief before she stepped out of the bush. She looked around the street. This street was not developed, but there were a few houses at the next right turn up-ahead. Cynthia looked ahead of her to where she heard the body drop – her Madam’s body drop – and ran as fast as her short legs could let her. By the time she arrived at the location, she was breathless and began to step into the bush, searching for the body.

When Cynthia found the body, she noticed that Henry had removed the sheet he used to wrap Ireti’s body. She also noticed the evening gown, the one Ireti had worn for dinner just hours before. Cynthia caught herself weeping again. And she couldn’t control it. She was looking at the face of her dear friend, the one who treated her more special than anyone on the face of the earth. Ever since they met, Cynthia had loved Ireti like she would love her sister, even though Cynthia had none.

Again, Cynthia had to do something, and fast. She bent low so she could touch Ireti, to shake her to see if she would wake up.

“Madam. Madam, wake up. I’m here, Madam. Na Oga do you like this? Kai, Madam please wake up, you hear?”

Cynthia put her ear to Ireti’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. She remained as quiet as she could, not breathing nor blinking, trying hard to detect life in her Madam. Cynthia had watched a lot of American movies on the big screen TV in the house, and she had seen doctors doing what she was doing now, trying to listen for some sign of a heartbeat. Now she wished she had a stethoscope.

There it was! So faint! So soft, but Ireti’s heart was still beating. Her chest was barely lifting and falling again, so that was why Henry had not noticed that she still breathed. Cynthia began to laugh and cry at the same time, clutching her hands together in prayer-mode, looking up to Heaven, thanking the universe for listening to her prayers. Then she hurriedly grabbed her skirt to clean the tears streaming down her face so she could see clearly. And she needed to find help, someone willing to take her Madam to the hospital. Thankfully, Cynthia had spotted lights coming from a few houses on the next right turn. She walked fast towards the houses, wishing that she would find someone kind enough to offer a helping hand. She needed a “Good” Samaritan.

SANDRA

“Who be that? Who be that?!” Someone was pounding heavily at the front gate and the gate man was having a hard time keeping his anger in check. Fear had gripped him at first, but now the persistent banging was beginning to piss him off really bad. Did this person not possess the word ‘patience’ in their dictionary? Apparently not. So Steven ran to the gate, pulling his trousers over each leg, trying hard not to trip. By this time, he knew his ‘Madam’ would have heard all that noise and would be very much awake now.

“Who be you?” Steven asked the stranger that kept looking at him through the peephole, with wide, frightened eyes, like someone had been chasing her for hours.

“Who you dey look for?” Steven asked again as she refused to answer, but kept looking

Continue: https://akukom.com/madam-chapters-6-11/

Source:www.Akukom.com

Literature › Defining Ikechi by Akukom(op): 8:43am On Nov 08, 2018

The excitement of starting senior secondary lit up everyone’s faces. There was everything to be expectant about – the fact that you can’t be bossed around by seniors anymore, the fact that you now have that unspoken general right to be regarded as senior and boss juniors around, you now intentionally sound more bookish and pretend like you’ve got life all figured out, and the sweetest part, you openly flirt with all the pretty girls who would occasionally throw you side glances, and dare yourself to befriending the wild ones who knowingly play water games after school hours so that the macho boys they play the water games with can have free rein to ogle at their now see-through school uniforms.

That’s a boy’s fantasy. Or a girl’s, if you secretly fancy does over stags. I don’t fantasize, or fancy any of those, in any conceivable way. I was what many would call ‘the weird one’, and it had taken my three years as a junior at Prairie Model Secondary School to investigate and find out why I repel people like it is magic. I now know what magic I have – I care, way too much. It’s like a default setting, and my only goal – my own version of senior secondary school excitement – was that that was surely going to change. I had mapped it all out. Execution remained. The first step was to resist the temptation to always correct Mabel’s grammatical errors. I had helped Mabel pass the Junior WAEC English exam and when I was caught giving her answers in the hall and was punished by being stood up for thirty whole minutes without writing anything, what the entire class did for me was control their giggles. After the paper, outside the hall, a thousand fingers would rise from the air and point at me, until I left the school premises, and some distances after. They laughed.

When our Chemistry teacher asked Mabel to list the first forty elements in the periodic table, when she got to Argon, she said Agron. Then my people-pleasing alarm went off. I cued up my resistance strategy – a piece of bubblegum, an illegal cellphone, and distraction. I made my phone ring, and it took my mind off Mabel. Success. Then I heard Ikechi’s voice all the way from the back of the class, correcting Mabel. “Argon. A-R-G-O-N.” What was Ikechi doing at the back of the class? Why was he paying any mind to Mabel? Mabel was me, but fairer, richer, and taller, but me. Ikechi never talks to the likes of us. It was sarcasm. He was getting better at being mean.

But it wasn’t sarcasm. Ikechi went ahead to shout at the class for laughing at Mabel. Somehow, my name got mixed into his public reprimand. The chemistry teacher was beside herself. She must have wondered what had gotten into him. Ikechi, whose notoriety as the school’s biggest playa was concerned over puny Mabel and me? I stood to have a better look. He was at the back, of the class, and I still couldn’t see him. The chemistry teacher then called him to the front of the class, requesting apology for interrupting her lecture. Seemed she’d just gotten over the dazzle. Then Ikechi wheeled to the front.

His smile, his set jaw line, his tiny eyes, his perfect conditioned hair, his flawless skin tone, fine boy no pimples, his intricately ironed school uniform, his silver-plated wristwatch, his muscular arms, swinging as he walk….

…his muscular arms, pushing the top of the wheels on his wheel chair as he wheeled to the front of the class. Wheeled to the front of the class. When did Ikechi break his legs? Since when did he start using a wheelchair?

As if he knew the question was at the tip of my tongue, the moment he stepped, sorry wheeled – gotta get used to that – to the front of the class, he answered by telling the tale of Ikechi’s 10 Days Before the Start of Senior Secondary.

I’ll paraphrase these, but leave them in quotes for effect:

Day 10 before the start of senior secondary: “I, Ikechi, was riding my bicycle around our neighbourhood and then got a phone call that my girlfriend, I mean, friend that is a girl, was seen in another man’s Camaro. There was no time to borrow my mum’s RX 350, so I disobeyed my mother and rode to save my friend – girl – from the guy. I’m a perfect cyclist, but seeing her kiss this old fart gave me a stop, and in extension, lured me to an oncoming lorry. I thought I died.”

Day 9 before the start of senior secondary school: “I, Ikechi, found myself awake in a hospital. There were drips and stuff, and I couldn’t move. I cried.”

Day 8: “I, Ikechi, did nothing else but cry.”

Days 7 to 1: “I, Ikechi, … still crying.”

It all sounded like a sordid mixture of an American Kindergarten ego-driven show and tell and the saddest story I’d ever heard. The toughest of them all, Ikechi – whose name is Igbo for The Strength of God – was before me, weak and crushed, and shedding tears. I wanted to help him, give him something to soothe his pain. He would never walk again, that is a worse fate than, well, than the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I didn’t know when I had begun walking towards him. It was like superconduction—perfect magnetism, and right before I reached him, an encore of my Junior WAEC experience happened, but not to me this time. It was meant for Ikechi, the one who had initiated it on me, and it was hurled towards him by his friends. This is where I remember one of my mom’s quotations from the bible, he who kills by the sword shall die by the sword. It was just cruel that the dying had to come from his compadres.

That day started for me the strangest journey of life any girl—especially socially inept ones like me—could wish for. When I found myself wheeling Ikechi into his mother’s RX 350 – he wasn’t lying about that – and introducing myself to his mom, and explaining why none of his friends were offering help—the explanation, in case you don’t know, is that Ikechi hadn’t any friend, no true one at least, and I guess this is why he let me wipe his snort, tie up his shoes, pack up his uneaten lunch, take his notes, and attempt to make him laugh all the time—I wondered what it all meant. Ikechi was a catch, any girl with an eye in that school could see it, but since his accident, it seemed only I could, and it felt like life had opened up a large window for me to jump through and claim the house bearing the window. But I wasn’t sure of anything, so, I altered the story of that day a little bit. “Mrs. Opara, Ikechi’s friends had a mandatory assignment the principal told them to do, so they forced me into taking him to you.” His mother looked relieved, especially at the mention of the word ‘forced’. “I should get back now.” “You do that,” she replied, and before the door closed shut, I swear I heard Ikechi use that same voice he used on the class on his mom, “That was uncalled for, Mother. You were rude.” My lips stretched cheek to cheek and my stomach tickled.

One thing I learnt about Ikechi’s life is that people are slow. Honestly. Okay, well, he had gone through a very traumatic experience over something so trivial it is as laughable as it is horrifying, true. But come on, it took a well-calculated, measured, experimentally-biased-though-ridiculously-favourable set of well-thought psychological procedures over the entire school year to get Ikechi to have his first, sincere, heartfelt laughter. Ikechi was crushed throughout SS1, no matter what I tried, until he laughed. He laughed at the silliest thing. You see, I know you can tell—I hope you can tell—at least by my narrative tone and by the names of the characters and settings used in this tale, that Ikechi, myself, Mabel, and the Chemistry teacher all converge in the most ajebo school you may imagine in Nigeria. There is not one kpako bone in any of us. We no wèrè at all. That said, you shouldn’t find it ridiculous when I tell you that at SS1, we all had read volumes, as school projects and reading assignments, from the following authors: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, William Shakespeare, Gustave Flaubert, Anne Bronte, Emily Bronte, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, George Orwell, Mark Twain, Jules Verne, William Golding, Hans Christian Andersen, H.G. Wells, Lewis Carrol, J.R.R. Tolkien, even Homer and Aesop. Notice how not even one single African writer is there? They didn’t even allow us the courtesy of Alexandre Duma, at least he was black. I’ve gone off-track. The silly thing that made Ikechi laugh was the most infamous question from Lewis Carrol’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, “why is the raven like a writing desk?”

He had answered it. He said, “because you can imagine it. And when you do, it becomes true for you. Who’s to say what’s real and what’s not in the world? Why does a crippled boy have to be sad? He doesn’t. He may laugh.” And so he did.

The deepness of that reply left me on my toes. That was the kind of thing I’d say, perhaps not as deep, but certainly as queer. I had begun rubbing off on him. True. At entry into SS2, he had transformed into the male version of me— no celebratory wristwatches, no obligatory unfolding of the shirt collar or sagging of the trousers or wearing of the ankle socks just to piss class teachers off and gain unnecessary, oft-unrequited attention, no posse, not one, ‘cept me. Someone had thrown a snide sneer from a distance once asking him what garbage can he got his new girlfriend from. Don’t take a genius to know I was the garbage girlfriend.

The comments from classmates and strangers alike grew and grew until it became uncontrollable. We didn’t know how..
Continue:https://akukom.com/defining-ikechi/

Source: www.akukom.com

Literature › Lydia's Crucible(18+) by Akukom(op): 9:14pm On Nov 07, 2018

‘‘Give me your bag old lady’’ a tall huge masked man shouted at a middle aged woman. ‘‘My son I beg of you please don’t harm me’’. The next sound heard was that of a gun and down on the floor the woman went with blood gushing out of her head while the masked man went away with his loot. The small gathering of people nearby took to their heels with fear because either of them could be the next victim. The police didn’t help matters as they trembled at the name of the notorious gang that swung open the broad gate of hell on the community. This was the environment Lydia grew up in.

Lydia was the first of the three children of her mum, Jasmine. Her mother was divorced from her father when she was barely ten. Jasmine is a banker who has no time for her children, leaving her role in the hands of her sixteen year old daughter, Lydia. On a fateful day while she and her siblings were walking back from school, a blue car pulled over in front of them and a huge masked man whose appearance seemed similar to that of the man who killed the old lady a month ago stepped out of the car, fired a bullet into the air causing Lydia and Phoebe to fall on their faces to the ground while their brother was dragged into the car as they watched in fear the car zooming off at the highest speed. The futile search for her brother almost lasted for a week not up until his decomposing body was found near the border of the neighbouring community with his legs, ears, fingers and private part dismembered. Lydia and her mum mourned bitterly as they lowered his remains at the cemetery the next day.

***********
Lydia continued her life happily hoping all things will be better; what more can a sanguine wish for? Her mum got promoted at work to be the regional manager of her bank. This meant a higher pay for her and for Lydia it was the beginning of the end of the mother daughter bond they started building. ‘‘That means no more time for me; it is going to be work today and conference tomorrow’’ she said to herself. The promotion came with a change of environment. They had to relocate to Abuja. ‘‘Lydia darling, you should be excited; you know it’s the country’s capital city’’ her mum said. Lydia fixed a gaze at her mum and shook her head as she returned to the movie she was watching on her phone. They alighted from the taxi when they got to their flat at royal garden estate. Their house was painted turquoise blue and lemon. The taxi driver helped them get their bags inside. ‘‘Give the taxi driver some extra cash, Jasmine told Lydia’’.

***********

Settling down in a new environment was a bit hard for Lydia. She and her sister got enrolled in a new school, a school for the wealthy so to say. Onyx international school was her new school. The school is located at the Peace Garden Estate which is half a kilometre from the airport.

On her first day at school, she and her sister, Phoebe walked to their different classes after their mum dropped them off. Phoebe was the shy type, a fifteen year old girl whose body physique was quite as beautiful as that of her sister. Phoebe walked into her class with her breasts leading the way; the physics teacher was already in class; But John notwithstanding still managed to whisper ‘‘what the f…’’ in such a loud tone that the almost the whole class busted out in laughter. The teacher, Mr Abel, made her stood before the class; Phoebe’s face was down most of the time. ‘Tell us your name’’ the teacher asked. ‘‘Phoebe David Abiyah’’ she said in a voice audible to her alone. ‘‘Obviously she is the shy type; her name is Phoebe David Abiyah. ‘‘feel at home’’ Mr Abel said to Phoebe as he showed her where to sit and continued his session.

Lydia had no trouble settling down in her class as she was ready to fire back at whosoever wanted giving her a tough time, she was somewhat the outspoken one. She was such an epitome of beauty; smooth and flawless ebony skin, a full round mammary gland and an onion bulb bottom just like her sister; she and her sister were quite intelligent and were out to shock their new school that one can be endowed, beautiful and smart.

***********

Lydia kept her cool for the first term, she barely spoke to anyone. Greg was tall dark and handsome guy. His well-built physique was a turn on for girls. Time after time Greg tried making friends with Lydia but all efforts proved abortive. On a particular occasion, Greg had himself bathed with the ice cream he bought for her. Finally, after a thousand and one times she gave in to his advances. ‘‘Hi’’, Greg said. For the first time Lydia gave him the warmest smile. ‘‘Let’s get some snacks before break time is over, I’ll pay’’ he said. They sat at the school’s cafeteria ate yam chips and chicken from the same plate as they talked and laughed at sweet nothings.

***********

Their love grew stronger as time went by, they both now sat close to each other in class. The other things that accompany love followed. The bell for break went off; Greg held her hand as they hurried off to the changing room of the school’s basketball arena as they had earlier agreed. Wet with desire, she moved her hands up and down his groin, got hold of his belt and down his trousers and underwear went giving her a full view of his erection. She knelt before him like a worshipper at a shrine, making sure she got the full satisfaction his erection had to offer in her mouth. Greg pulled...

Continue: https://akukom.com/lydias-crucible/

Source: www.akukom.com

1 2 3 4 (of 4 pages)