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CHRONICLES OF A RUNS GIRL PART 1
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Running girl
I have learnt many things in life and one of
them is that you cannot run for your life in high
heel shoes.
As I was running down the slope of Falomo
Bridge, at some time past 4 am, I was actually
praying for the heels of my Dorothy Perkins
shoes to break because I did not dare to stop
to take them off. I was no longer aware of
Mama running behind me. I couldn’t hear her
footsteps but I wasn’t stopping to check on
her; it was well and truly an every-chick-for-
herself kind of situation. And besides, we have
always told her to lose weight. Maybe now, if
we make it out of this alive, she would finally
learn the folly of embracing her orobo title.
At the bottom of the bridge, on the Ikoyi side, I
ran into the remnants of a police check point.
The officers were drinking what I can only
assume to be paraga, and counting the days
take. If I was shocked to happen on them at
four in the morning, they were equally startled
to see a yellow girl in a cream low-cut chiffon
dress running at them. They scattered away
from my path and would have let me continue
if at that point Mama had not called out to me
and finally break my get-away.
The policemen regained their composure and
immediately proceeded to arrest us, pointing
their guns and shouting at us to tell them who
we were.
I was out of breath, Mama even more so. The
officers waited while their paraga woman
opined that we must be ashewos and they
agreed, without relenting their hold on their
weapons.
As I was contemplating whether it was wise to
tell them from what we had fled, Mama, ever
the loud mouth, filled them in with every ‘oh’
and ‘ah’ of her thick Yoruba accent.
“Ritual killer!” she shouted. “He is there on the
bridge. He stopped to piss, that is how we
escaped. He didn’t know I speak Yoruba. He
was telling his friend on the phone that he has
found two girls for the ritual!”
Indeed, she was right. The boy had picked us
up at the gate of Shoprite and taken us to his
hotel room at the Four Points. He spoke funeh
and ordered room service for us. Mama had
asked for big Stout and assorted meat pepper
soup, which the kitchen didn’t have, and I had
accepted his offer to share a bottle of wine with
him.
He had been gentle and nice, and he came
across as every bit the mugun. Mama had been
first to start touching him up but he had shyly
reclined from her fat arms and in due course
started talking to me instead.
He wanted to know what I did for a living.
Somebody who had picked me off the road at
past midnight wanted to know what I did for a
living. I told him I was a student, which was not
a lie, and he wanted to know why I had decided
to study mass-com, which I wasn’t studying. He
talked at length about his life in London and
how he was only in Nigeria for a UN contract.
I chopped, Mama chopped. She even sent me a
BB message when he was asking how many we
were in my family. In her message she asked
me to let the boy do without condom while she
pretended to be asleep. She said that that
would make the mugun fall in love. Mama’s
over zealousness has rendered her advices and
opinions irrelevant, so I wasn’t even upset at
her stupidity.
No long thing, Mama soon covered her bulky
body with the duvet and pretended to be asleep
and the London boy finally approached me. He
asked that I follow him into the bathroom and I,
playing the part, asked him why.
We bleeped right there on the bed – with a
condom – and Mama did not once move even
when I pinched her buttom.
I let him hold me as he fell asleep and I must
have fallen asleep as well because his phone
woke us up.
He took the call in the bathroom and Mama
pretended to wake up. When he returned he
looked upset. He explained that he had to fly to
Abuja on the first flight out of Lagos and asked
where we lived and if he could drop us off.
I sensed Mama about to ask him for money so
I quickly told him he could get us a cab to Ikoyi.
He refused to let us take a cab at that time of
the morning; he was going to drop us so he
could know where I stayed – so he could come
see me when he returned later in the night. He
then asked if I could come with him to Abuja. It
was a business meeting, he said, it would take
all of two hours then we would catch the last
flight to Lagos. Flights cost around thirty k. If
he was willing to pay that much just for me to
follow him to Abuja and back, how much would
I end up fleecing out of him?
It was on the way to Ikoyi that he called up his
friend and started talking in near whispers in
Yoruba. Both Mama and I speak fluent Yoruba;
we grew up in Lagos, after all. When he pulled
over on the deserted bridge and told us he had
to pee, no one begged us to jump out of his car
and run. I have never run so fast in my life.
The policemen listened to our story as told by
Mama and asked us if we wanted to come to
the station to make a statement.
“He is on the bridge!” Mama shouted at them.
“You can still catch him!” I was thinking the
same.
One of the officers explained their position: “See
ehn, just go and do thanksgiving that he did
not succeed. By now he would have run away.
How do we know where to catch him?”
Mama pointed out that we could take them to
his hotel room but the same officer explained
that “hotel people don’t like that kind of trouble.
They won’t even let us see the man. Just go
home and you too, stop doing ashara.”
We stayed with the policemen, partly out of
having been placed under arrest and partly out
of not wanting to be alone, and we listened to
them tell stories of girls who had barely
escaped ritual killers, just like we had. When
they were ready to leave we realised we were
also free to go. We begged them to drop us
home and, surprisingly, they obliged.
When we got to the boys’ quarters on Peeple
Road that we share with four other girls, there
was no light. Clara, whose real name is Nkem,
opened the door for us because they had
locked the padlocks from inside.
“From where you ashewos dey come from this
night?” she asked and thus unleashed Mama’s
impatience to narrate our ordeal all over again.
Clara woke Toyin, Toyin woke Beatrice, Beatrice
woke Antina who woke two other girls I didn’t
know and who had taken my spot and Mama’s
spot on the mattress.
Clara lit a kerosene lamp and the girls listened
in silence as Mama embellished the story with
magic rings and hidden charms. At the end of
her tale the girls exchanged looks then burst
out into laughter.
I was trying to see the humour when one of the
strangers explained it to me.
It wasn’t a new thing; in fact, many sharp girls
had fallen for the same trick. The boy wasn’t a
ritual anything; he simply didn’t want to pay us
and he tricked us into running away.
The girl, whose name turned out to be Kenny,
assured us that if we went back to the hotel we
would be told that the occupant had checked
out, probably on his way to Abuja as he
claimed.
To say I was pained is an understatement. But
Mama preferred her own interpretation and
hung on to the ritual story, no doubt, to be
repeated to many a girl in the days to come. I
only wished that she would leave my name out
of it.
I was still smarting from being played so deftly
when Kenny asked if we had checked our bags.
Mama asked why, but I had clocked. I opened
my bag up to the glow of the lantern and
searched frantically. I emptied the contents of
the bag onto the floor and searched the inner
pockets. My money was gone.
That morning, as I lay on the crowded mattress,
seething with anger and loathing the alarm that
would soon go off to wake me up to get ready
and go to school, I prayed to God to let me see
that boy again. I didn’t tell God what I planned
to do with him when I saw him.
My name is Amaka, by the way. But people call
me Juliet.

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

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FAVOURITE, THREE GIRLS, SAME SCHOOL PART 1
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I went on this school trip to Malaysia. I just turned 15 then. There were 12 kids, 2 teachers and a leader from the company we used. The trip was offered a year before we left and there was a lot of build up. However, not until the last couple of weeks did the group start really getting to know each other. This one girl whom I knew from primary school was going. She was kinda pretty and I dunno I noticed her I suppose. She said to me at some point after we had been getting along pretty good, “I didn’t know your name until like a month ago. All I knew you as was Popsie [my nickname] from primary school”. Popsie was a name one of my teachers gave me and it kind of became my name for most of my primary school life. When we were in country, she and I started talking and getting on really well and flirting. She initiated it because shez older than me and I didn’t at first think she was interested and all that—I’m not exactly one for showing a lot of interest straight up. So, yeah, in the airport and on the plane, the first few days we were pretty good. I really liked her. The 3rd day we moved to a different place. It was like a home stay, kind of, in a longhouse in the middle of the rainforest—really, really, remote but not tribal at all. After the first day the teachers and leader caved into letting us swim in the river because it was so humid and hot. (The kampong/ longhouse is right next to a river—the only way besides helicopter you can get there. It takes about 2 and a half hours by boat.) So we are swimming around and some of the guys are wearing thongs (as in flip flops) cause it a river and that. The currents were pretty strong and this one guy’s thongs came off and one of them went down river really fast. Luckily it gets caught on some trees over hanging the river. So thinking they are truly pretty much gone, he just leaves it. Everyone was swimming but eventually people start going back up to the longhouse and it was just me and the primary school girl and one of my other (rather clueless) guy friends. Me and the guy are flirting and playing around in the water and just talking about stuff, pretending the other guy isn’t there, paying him out and stuff cause he wouldn’t go away. It started to rain, heavily, so we ran back up to the longhouse which is like 200m away and get everything completely soaked. The next day after we’d done some work —painting, looking around, helping out— we went down to the river for a swim, which had lowered substantially since the day before. It was wet season and the river went up and down all over the place. The guy who lost his shoe and the girl I was flirting with went down river along the bank looking for his thong cause you kinda needed them there. They came back covered in like this mud stuff, like the mud people have at day spas—really smooth, clean mud (can mud be clean?), telling everyone to go down there and see this mud, quicksand- type thing they found. So I go down there with them with about three other kids. The teachers came to pay us out, to make sure we didn’t die, and to take photos. We started throwing mud around and got completely covered head to foot. The deepest part went up to half way between my knees and waist. It was a lot of fun. Again, everyone cleared out after a while because they had stuff to do, except that one idiot friend of mine who got the picture when the primary school girl and I started wrestling and lying around together, and she nicked off pretty fast. After about 3 seconds she and I were on the grass. I was lying on top of her and we were making out, head to foot covered in Malaysian mud. It was f—–g epic, until I realised she had no idea what she’s doing. So I kind of pretended I heard someone coming and cut it short. She knew that she had no idea what she was doing and that I noticed, and she looked absolutely mortified.
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MY ADVENTURE WITH AN OKADA RIDER…..(18+)…..Part 1
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I’m a slutty bitch. A s*x freak. A nympho. As I
write this, I have a date with Sikiru, the Okada
driver. Its all I can think about and the thought
of the groovy time i’m going to have with him
leaves my body tingling, my slutty Kittycat
forever wet and dripping, and my Tips hard.
He bleeps real hard like an animal and I just
cant get enough of his Joystick. I don’t attend
the kind of parties Sikiru attends, you know,
my status and all. However, for the reward I’ll
get afterwards, I sure would attend any thing
as long as I’ll get to feel that Joystick inside
me afterwards.
I have a boyfriend, James. In his eyes, I am
the model girlfriend. Chaste, modest,
respectful and just your normal ‘take home’ to
mummy girlfriend. We’ve been living together
for sometime now.
James however, does not know my wild side.
He is not aware that I love s*x to the point of
addiction, in fact, I am addicted to s*x. And
the more, the merrier!
I remember how it all started……………….
I passed unnoticed through secondary and
first two years of university since I was gawky,
geeky and warty. so I had no boyfriend and
guys didn’t notice me but I had been
introduced to s*x by one of the popular boys
in my senior secondary school, not knowing
that it was a challenge and a bet he had with
his friend to sleep with the most ugly girl in
school. I didn’t know this and I put out for
him! He took my hymen and introduced me to
the pleasures of the flesh and we did it so
many times that I became addicted. I naively
took his interest for love but was brought
down to earth when I overheard him bragging
to his friends at the cafeteria that he had
F***ed me many times and he showed them
my Pour and blood stained panties of the first
F**K and several love letters I had written to
him. I was devastated!!!.
In no time at all, the story spread round the
school and I became the laughing stock of all
his friends and their girlfriends. There was
nothing to do but to stick to myself after that
and quench my thirst for Joystick with my
fingers, candle or any object that would fit into
my aching Kittycat.
In year two of university, a friend invited me to
a frat party and I became the mascot. How it
happened, I cant remember and is of no
consequence, only that it marked a turning
point in my life. About 2am during the party
after I had taken a few beer, all my pent up
emotions came to the fore and I just stood up,
staggered to the dance area, pulled my dress
off and started dancing Unclad and
suggestively. There were very girls there and
all the males were old members of the frat
since the
new boys were being initiated. One bold guy
danced up to me and we started dancing
lewdly, with me grinding my Bosom against
his chest and my bare Kittycat against his
very hard crotch. He wasted no time and
stated handling my Bosom and squeezing my
Tips which had by this time gone
rock hard. I was in a blurry state of euphoria
and continued rubbing hard against him, he
couldn’t take the pressure anymore and
guided me to an empty area, pushed me on
the ground and started finger fucking my
Kittycat and running his hands through my hot
and flushed body. I responded by taking his
Joystick in my mouth and sucking for all I was
worth. After about five minutes of this, he
pulled away, and I quickly opened my legs
wide for him cos I knew what was coming and
I was damn ready, in fact too ready. With one
mighty lunge, he plunged deep into my
Kittycat and I let off an animal scream while
he pounded into me fast and hard. I loved
every minute of it and encouraged him loudly
in both voice and action by begging him to
F**K me harder and faster while wrapping my
legs round his waist to get his Joystick as
deep inside me as possible. Because of the
drinks and tobacco in his system, he lasted a
long time and I had orgasm after orgasm after
orgasm, before he finally grunted and
offloaded his Pour deep inside my willing
body. I grabbed his Joystick with my Kittycat
muscles and milked him dry.
He got off me but before I could say ‘jack’
another body had replaced his and a hard
Joystick was once again digging into my just
been used Kittycat. I was game as I also urged
the new guy on and welcomed the invasion of
my body by yet another cockmeat. He finished
his business and got up only to be once again
replaced by another. I was too far gone in my
lust to care or keep count after the first four
guys but just abandoned myself to the
pleasure.This continued until day break and
my used, slurpy Kittycat was replaced by my
asshole when it became too full of Pour, slurpy
and less elastic. My mouth also partook of the
pleasure since some of the frat guys could not
feel anything when they entered my Kittycat,
opted for my mouth. I didn’t care and gladly
sucked them and took all the Pour they had to
offer.
I don’t recall how I got back to my hostel but
was told by the friend who invited me that I
had been F***ed by over 20 guys and that her
boyfriend brought me, while they both carried
me to my room and she cleaned me up. I was
leaking Pour in both of my holes for over a
week and that marked the beginning of my
slutty life
My adventures with Sikiru, the Okada rider
started innocently enough. While returning
from work one fateful evening, my car broke
down and all efforts I made to at least have it
take me home that night proved abortive. I
called my mechanic who did everything he
knew how to make the car move but my car
was not ready to sleep at home that night
“aunty, we go leave the car here o!’ my
mechanic declared ‘you know say we no fit
push automatic and na tomoro I go fit buy an
fix wetin spoil inside’
‘okay’ I said
I had to lock up and leave the car where it was
and was left with no choice but to take the
popular okada home since my fiancé had
traveled some days earlier and would only be
returning that night.
It was already dark and almost 8pm by the
time we finished arrangement to leave the car
where it was. I called a passing okada rider
and while we were going, I noticed him
pushing back at my ample Bosom, trying to
push back at my crotch. I pretended not to
notice but when continued, my Tips became
taut and stood erect. I couldn’t hold it
anymore after some time and pushed back at
his back, moving closer him on the okada so
as have more friction on my Bosom. My
pantyless Kittycat was dripping wet and hot.
The okada suddenly stopped at a bushy lonely
stretch of the road and the okada man said
something was wrong with the machine. He
started fiddling with it and I just stared at his
crotch which had a noticeable bulge. I couldn’t
resist any longer and just grabbed his hands
and put it on my exposed thighs, I was
wearing a mini length lycra skirt. Exactly what
he had been waiting for! As he pulled up my
skirt and pushed his fingers into my sopping
wet Kittycat, fingering me and finger fucking
me deeply. I pushed back on his finger leaning
on the okada and moaning loudly like the slut I
was. He pulled out my and started sucking on
them one after the other. I pulled down his
shorts and one of the biggest cocks I had ever
seen sprang free!!!!gasped and Pour loudly
from the mere sight of that Joystick. I quickly
my bag, brought out a cd and encased his
Joystick with it. Then turned and presented
my glistening wet Kittycat to him doggy,
holding on tightly to the okada , bending my
waist and raising my Kittycat as high as I
could. He didn’t hesitate as he quickly shoved
all that cockmeat into my hungry Kittycat,
pushing it all in at once while grabbing and
squeezing my Bosom for all it was worth from
behind. I moaned loudly and pushed back at
him, meeting him stroke for stroke and
wanting it
all!!! He F***ed me like a real slut, banging into
me hard and fast and not sparing my hanging
Bosom by handling them hard and squeezing
my erect Tips, bringing tears of pleasure to my
eyes. I moaned in pleasure, not minding the
glare of oncoming vehicles’ headlights
occasionally lighting us up like a stadium,
making it obvious to all and sundry what we
were doing. Okada man just banged away,
oblivious of the havoc he was causing in my
oliver twist Kittycat. He F***ed me for over
twenty minutes and I had Pour after Pour until
he grunted and gave a mighty shove spilling
his seed into the rubber encasing his Joystick.
He pulled out, removed and threw way the
cumfilled cd then pulled up his shorts while I
pulled down my skirt and rearranged my
Bosom in my blouse. My Kittycat was hot and
wet with several Pour, flowing Kittycat juices. I
stood aside waiting for him to finish the
repairs for us to leave but to my surprise, he
got on his bike, kicked it started and told me
to climb on. I asked if the bike was okay and
he said yes, that he parked because we both
wanted a F**K. We both laughed it off and he
told me his name was Sikiru, gave me his
number and that I should feel free to call on
him whenever I needed servicing. It was a
raunchy thing to say to a lady but I don’t
deceive myself, I know am far from a lady, I’m
a slut. Sikiru dropped me off at the junction to
my house and after paying him (with him
squeezing my Bosom in the process) I walked
home, thinking of the F**K I just had, the size
of his Joystick and dreamily imagining when
next I would have to feel that wonderful
Joystick again in my aching Kittycat. I got
home, showered, made dinner and showered
again. About forty five
minutes after my arrival home, James drove in
and I welcomed him with open arms, my
Kittycat once again wet at the thought of
fucking my loving fiancé. While making love,
he asked how I had been coping without him
for the past three days and I smiled demurely,
thinking of the raunchy I had just had with
sikiru, okada man. If only he knew……
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MY P-MAN FRIEND’S DAUGHTER PART 1
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This ASUU strike has been on for a while, and in
my opinion, it is
both favourable and unfavourable. After what
happened to me
recently, I think I’ll even want the strike to last till
next year. (lol)
I was on my own in the sitting room,
simultaneously chatting
with one girl and watching TV. I was laughing
like a goat, I
swear. Dont give me that look…c’mon, we all do
these things.
I was tempted to use Pidgin English for this
story, I must
confess, but from now on I’ll just use ‘Pman’ for
Father and
‘Momsi’ for Mother. Dhazall.
I was still laughing like a drunk chronic madman
when my Pman
came out from his room. He asked me what I
was laughing about
and I just said I was reading one joke online. He
walked to the
kitchen and as I heard his foot steps coming
back, I immediately
co-ordinated myself as if I was doing a job
interview online.lol.
He asked me to go and help him give his friend
one document
and that I should explain to him that he’ll see
him later. Me i just
happy say I go even leave that house sef. Even if
the place I was
going to was not far.
Two minutes later, I don jump enter one jeans
wey I hang for my
wardrobe door. I pick one Tshirt from my box. I
never wear this
Tshirt since when I don come back from school.
I trekked out of my street and picked a bike. The
man was telling
me N100 as if its not this same place i used to
go before. I finally
negotiated N50. All these Okada people sef.
When I got to the man’s house, I did not even
waste time before i
started knocking because I already knew the
routine. If you come
this early to his house, there is just no way you
wont knock for
up to 10 minutes at least. I wonder why my
pman does not
always call this man before he sends me here.
Anyway, I continued knocking. I looked at the
street and found
out that it was a bit live-lier than my own. Chai…
see the girls
wey dey this place sha. The girls that would not
be around on a
normal day, now because of ASUU, they are all
over the place.
It was still about 8:45 that saturday morning. I
continued looking
around after intervals of knocking.
Soon, i heard foot steps. Theres a special way
women slippers
(or i dont know what they call it) sounds.
I was already composing the start-up statement i
would tell Mrs
Chizoba.
I always preferred her husband to be the one
that would recieve
me. I hate all those fake smiles that women put
up. The smile
wey go be like say their face wan tear.
The gate opened, and I took my face away first
as if I was
watching one woman who was helping one girl
carry her tray on
her head. Before i looked back, I put on my most
honest smile. I
get this innocent smile wey I dey always give
elderly women, or
near elderly sha.
So, back to the story.
As I turned back with my honest smile, I first
confuse.
It wasn’t Mrs Chizoba I saw oo.. It was a much
younger lady. Ah!
It was not me that was shouting o. Its that
stubborn boy in my
head.
This girl was fine ooo. Anything else would be an
understatement.
I swear!! I looked at this girl for up for one
minute, until it was
getting awkward. She just gave me that ”yes?
what do you have
to say” look.
She was just waking up, I could tell from her
face. All these
people dey talk say, if you wan know girl wey
fine, go check am
for house for morning. Omo, if na that one be the
case, this girl
na Ogbanje. She was fine in every sense.
I was happy when my mouth started moving,
because it wasn’t
me that was moving the lips. Left to me, i was
comfortable just
staring at her till Jesus go blow 2nd trumpet by
himself say
make I begin climb stairs come up.
I told her that I was there to see Mr. Chizoba.
She nodded and
told me to come in. As she shifted a little for me
to enter, i
noticed something that made me know that God
works on
sundays. She was wearing her nightie and the
nightie was just a
little bit transparent. I could see that she was not
wearing a bra
underneath. Me sef, i silly! Who wears a bra to
bed anyway. I
saw her Tips and a little of the roundness of her
bosom. The
bosoms were firm. They stood up like that
without any sign of
sagging. I swear, if i wasnt this close to this girl,
I would have
argued with Gani that this girl was wearing a bra,
the way the
bosoms were firm.
She then made matters worse. She decided to
close the gate.
Oboy! The transparency of the material fully
came into view as
she turned to close the gate. For a brief moment,
i caught a
glimse of her full right bosom. Needless to say
that by now, my
Joystick don dey play god of war inside my
jeans. Thank God i did
not wear that my 3-quarter shorts. Chai… E for
bad. The
Attention for show, no be small.
So this girl was around because of ASUU?? Chai.
I knew Mr.
Chizoba had a daughter, but since I had been
coming here, I did
not for once lay my eyes on her. Its just either of
her brothers I
usually saw. But most of the times, the parents
were home alone.
Thats what happens when theres no much
spacing between your
kids. They all enter the university at close to the
same time.
i was still waiting for her to finish bolting the
gate. I could not
have waited for more than six to seven seconds,
but those
seconds seemed like hours oo. I cant lie. I read
books where
they say ”minutes looked like hours”, but this
time i was
experiencing it myslef.
I was not smiling again. That kind happiness
wey you no go fit
smile. I just decided to calm down and act
natural. Then she
turned again and started walking towards the
main house. I
turned too, and started following her.
This my eyes sef. It went down again and I saw
her Bottom. That
shii was apple buttom. It was not small at all,
and it was not that
extra large Bottom. This one was perfect from
the view I had.
And she knew how to sway it. I dont know if she
was doing it for
me or that was just how she walked normally.
She didnt behave
awkwardly at all. She didnt even smile like that,
so i didnt think
she was interested in me.
Anybody that was looking at us then would have
thought that I
was following her inside, but na yansh i dey
follow. If her
backside had moved away from her body and
went back to the
gate, i would forget what i went to do there and
follow the
backside to where-ever it was going.
I just kept staring at the Bottom. Then i realized
that anybody
could be looking at me through the windows, so
i re-directed my
eye lenses. But somehow, it restored to default
settings and went
back to the yansh. The panty outline was
obvious. It was a short
trimmed panty. I dont thing it was exactly a g-
string. The shii
was a little bigger.
I began to fear that I’ll even injure my Joystick
with the way it was
struggling in my jeans and boxer shorts. If the
thing get mouth, e
for shout.


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FREE Pv$sY, FREE PREGNANCY PART 1
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As I looked back that day to sound of my name
called by a voice, I saw some ladies that I
couldn’t identify cos the distance btw us was
dead far.
I replied by waving my hand at them while they
did the same.
I feel like moving towards them to know who
they are but I was being sent on an errand by
my father. Later, I shouted.
I was feeling like ‘why is it that girls like my
name’ as I was moving down to Amoo’s house
which is not so far from our house.
Let me not forget to introduce myself sha, my
name is Fawaz, I’m an artiste popularly known
as iTSF(The Soul of Flowz), I live at ibadan!!!
********************************
I was on my way back home the day after I
delivered Alhaji’s (my dad) message to Amoo
when I saw those ladies that called me the
other time, to my surprise I didn’t know any of
them.
I greeted them and they were like ‘so, you don’t
know us again??
Me: I don’t o
Lady A: we were the one that took pix with you
at elegant hotel!!!
Me: I’m sorry, I still can’t remember u people o.
B: you don’t need to, anyway my name is zinat
C: keji
A: they call me shally dee but my real name is
shalewa…
D: my own name is bimbo
Me: you’ve all got a nice name and pls what
can I do for you o
Zinat: actually we saw how you performed at
that show at elegant and we loved it, so we
decided to invite you to a birthday!
Me: and pls who is the person celebrating the
birthday?
Shalewa: I
Me: wow!!! you know what? I’m busy right now,
let me give you my phone number and pls give
me a call!!!
Bimbo gave me a phone of which I don’t know
how to operate, I returned the phone to her by
telling her to type it that I’m gonna call it for
her
0 8 1 39 47 04 20…. I said,
We’ll give you a call as soon as possible….
Bye bye, they said…
So, as I was going home na so I dey remember
those babes, lemme describe them to u
*Zinat is short, dark with a very large bossom
and nice backup…
*Shalewa’s complexion was light, her bossom
was not that plentiful, her height made sense,
(in short she looked like fathia balogun)
*Bimbo was chocolate, not that fat but huge (if
u know wetin farmers do refer to as Bumper
harvest, she’s the type) she’s tall, not that tall o,
she carry back(massive type), she carry front
(she really tried for the front), everything just
gather for there and
*Keji is light with full and massive chest that
I’m sure any guy that suck am will suffocate,
her behind is good one and have the same
height as bimbo….
As I got home, na those babes matter I still dey
carry for head as I fell into trouble…
Alhaji: where is that Fawaz
My bro: I donno where e dey o
Na so I sneak out of the house cos I know that
I’m in dead soup, then I summon the courage
to go back inside.. As I open the gate, na so I
saw something wey shock me…..
***********************
Alhaji called me in the morning to clean his
shoes and wash his car, as I wan lay hand on
the shoe na so he called me back to quickly go
to Amoo’s (alhaji’s friend) house to collect
some money from the man…
I didn’t know that I’ve spent up to 40 minutes in
the place that I can use only 2mins, Due to
those girls I met on my way and the foolish
thought I was thinking for my room…
*********************
The thing that shocked me was that the shoe
he said I should clean was soaked in water by
my step mother’s son, I was like is this boy mad
or crazy
As I wan open door to Alhajiz sitting room, I
saw alhaji at my back with a Koboko, I was like
‘why do I answer these girls now, see what
they brought me into’
Go and kneel down in my room Alhaji said with
a lion face… I’m sorry was what I said before I
saw myself in an ocean of slap….
Alhaji: the way I will beat you today, you’ll never
forget it
Me: (weeping and rubbing my two hands
together to plead for mercy)
Alhaji: you said u no go listen to me abi, I will
kill you today
Na only cry I dey cry as I knelt down in his
room, na so he lie down for bed….
For like an hour I was still on my kneel, na so I
tap him for leg, to my surprise…. Alhaji don
sleep!!!
Which kind rubbish be this was what came to
my mind, na so I dash out of his room…..
I was really angry that I shouted at my mother
when she called me…
As I sidon for one corner in my room, I brought
out my phones out of where I put them….
I saw some missed calls on my phones….
On the first phone
12 missed calls- Alhaji(when he sent me on
errand)
8 missed calls -Queen(8minutes ago)
On the second phone
2 missed calls -Alhaji(long ago)
1missed calls -Mum( an hour ago)
4 missed calls -An unknown glo number(22 mis
ago)
2 missed calls -An unknown mtn num( 3 mins
ago)
I decided to go out to my mum shop to collect
recharge card on credit,
Me: abeg, gimme mtn 100
Mum: sheybi na me u dey shout at abi
Me: pls, no mind me! Na dat your husband wey
dey vex me
Mum: (hissed and gave me the card) and where
is the money
Me: we go see later na
I ran inside my room and as I carry my phone,
I saw another 2 missed calls from that mtn
unknown number… As I was loading the
recharge cards, na so the num come call again
Voice: its that iTSF
Me: (silent)
Voice: are you there??
Me: (cough)
Voice: you aint serious
Me: abeg who is this I’m speaking with
Voice: who did u gave your num to this
morning
Me: you see that’s why people fail WAEC,
what’s your name
Voice: anyway sweetheart, I’m Zinat
Me: I’m sorry pls, I donno u were d one.
Zinat: apology accepted
Me: let me call you back..
Zinat: okay (ends the call)
Chai! Why am I this foolish That I said I will
call her back… Questioning myself…
As I load the recharge card I bought, na so the
glo num call enta my phone
Voice: its me bimbo that collected your num
this morning
Me: ah ah, okay…
And pls why is your voice this sweet??
Bimbo: you don add comedy to your song
abi
Me: no mind me jor
Bimbo: and why don’t you pick up your call the
other time
Me: I was playing with my dad in his room,
that’s why ann I’m not with my phone!!!
Bimbo: hmm hmmm, daddy’s pet
Me: thanks o!!! You know what I will call you
back now!!!
Edited the num and saved Zinat with zinats and
Bimbo with bimbos….
I then dialed my queen’s num, she didn’t even
allow it to ring before picking it!!!
Queen: hello
Me: iyawo (wife) broda fawaz, how far
Queen: I’m good
As I wan talk, na so I saw my door opened with
Alhaji and his koboko for hand for my door
starring at me.

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A JOURNEY WITH STEP-MUM PART 1
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Sometimes its difficult for me to fathom
whether it was anger, jealousy, hatred, or
extreme s-x drives to dig into my step
mother poontang.
Maybe I can blame the devil for the cause.
In either cases ones harm is done the next
step is how to fix it.
Ohhh….am just wasting much of your time
not hitting the nail into your hands at ones.
Well this is how it all started…….
Am Albert of 23 years. Am tall of about 5’8
feet. Am in a family of four, my dad and
two other siblings. The elder among us, a
young lady Cassandra is in the United
States so i live with my dad and sister,
Jessica who is 21. We resides in Accra –
Madina. Jessica is a level 200 law student
in University of Ghana and I just had
admission to the same school to pursue
psychology.
I guess you are thinking am not that smart
in academics. Yes, maybe, cos I wrote
novdec almost three times before I was
able to pass my English language.
Jessica and I go for lectures in my little
Hyundai Elantra car.
My dad is the CEO of Zenith Bank.
He has been living without a wife since my
mum passed away in 2002.
Though I knew he was f—–g his secretary
cos he used to invite the women to our
house.
Life in the house was very exciting with
fun even without a mum. Jessica and I use
to tell our Dad to marry Maa Christy his
Secretary cos we like her though she
sneak into our dads room once a blue
moon only for our father to tell us he is
not ready to marry…
I guess he was so much in love with my
late mum cos he used to be taking much
about their happiness together.
Just last year 7 th, October, around 6:30
pm the cripple was able to dance azonto,
the unexpected happened. I was seated in
the hall with my sis when my dad walked
in with a young girl. From my little human
growth related experience she might be
between the ages of 23-26.
She was extremely beautiful, in fact she
was more beautiful than my sis. Dad
greeted suddenly..
Dad: Good evening guys. Am back from
work. Anyway meet Susan my new wife, ur
step mum.
I turned to look at Jessica, we were
surprise. In fact I thought my dad was
drunk but none of his postures portrayed
that. I began to wonder what was wrong
with my dad. The girl could equally be a
daughter to my dad..
I raised my head and stared at that Susan.
I accessed her from head to toe. She had
a picky round bosoms and nyc lips. Her
dressed eye lashes were too long but fit
her. Her legs were thick to. She was
actually a nice young lady except that my
father made the wrong call.
Me & Jessi: fine evening. You welcome
Susan.
Susan: thanks. Am happy to be part of
your family.
Susan left with my dad to dad’s room.
Jessica and I were so confused. We
couldn’t say a word to each other till we
left for our room.
While on my bed I was thinking about how
we will call this Small girl mum. In fact I
hated my dad from that day. She was too
young for a man of 49 years.
I realized once she is my dads wife we had
no choice to call her mum…

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