My siggy was right after all....*mute*

HumbledbYGrace: My siggy was right after all....*mute*

Conspiracy theorist

Ishilove:
Conspiracy theorist

do I need to say more?

So you still updating?

HumbledbYGrace: do I need to say more?

So you still updating?

I'm working on it

Eze Promoe: Did Chilo actually said she's a virgin
May God punish her and other Nigerian babes that are like her.
Continue jor.

Once the hymen hasn't been breached, she is technically still a virgin. Chilo is still a virgin

Eze Promoe:
Didn't you write that she used bottle and hand pestle for self service?

"She pushed it in, but it only went half way
before it met with a barricade.Getting past the barricade was not in her plans so she
contented herself with playing around the
barricade."
The barricade is the 'gate keeper from heaven', aka, hymen. She played around it and didn't try to go past it. That's what that line means.

Jeeze Eze, you are forcing me to say bad things!

Ishilove:
Oniranu jatijati

sidestepping the lure to read the story
and fall into the clutches of the seductress

good job Ishilove.
You've got more than 11,000 views
It must be a masterpiece

When you've finished at the end of the year
kindly summarise into a one page document
so that i can also enjoy it in a short burst
Tnx ma

esere826: sidestepping the lure to read the story
and fall into the clutches of the seductress

good job Ishilove.
You've got more than 11,000 views
It must be a masterpiece

When you've finished at the end of the year
kindly summarise into a one page document
so that i can also enjoy it in a short burst
Tnx ma

Lwkmd!! Esere, you are soooo not serious!

Clown

Hmmmm chilo is turnin 2 sumtin else oh

Behold our gud girl gone bad.weldone Ishi

*rushes to carry Bible to preach to Chilo*
That girl own don finish! Pestle? Hanhan!

How could chilo m.ast.urb.ate for 2 yrs and all the big english guy could do was to supply po.rn material? From roll-on to pestle, what next? Maybe the base of a star bottle!

Ishi, call me when you find a befitting d'kkk for chilo.

Chilo!!!
na to find aboniki rub for that toto. Yeye gehl, Ishi abeg find better liberation for the technical virgin biko

”Who is Kirk Odig?” Father asked suspiciously. The question was directed at Kodi.

The family was assembled in the parlour watching ‘Newsline’. Oliver was in a corner of the sitting room trying to do his homework, Andrew was on the sofa looking lost in thought, Andrela was somewhere in the house doing only God knew what, and Mother dozed on the chair in front of the television. Mother always occupied the vantage point in front of the TV, very much to everyone’s distress. This was because she would drag a chair in front of the television, and stay awake for all of five minutes before she started nodding away. Meanwhile, the rest of the household had to make do with catching glimpses of what was happening on TV in between Mother’s head movements. When they grumbled, Mother always told them not to complain because they did not know how lucky they were to have a television to watch in the first place. She claimed that when she was growing up, her family had two televisions which they piled on top of each other; one for picture, one for sound. The one for sound had a bad screen while the one for picture had a faulty speaker, so they improvised.

Father was holding a piece of paper in his hands; Kodi’s scholarship application form.

“I am asking you, Kodi, who is Kirk Odig?” Father repeated, a storm beginning to gather on his brows.

Kodi squirmed and fidgeted like one caught with his hands inside the soup pot. He licked his lips and nervously replied “I’m the one.”

“Oburogwoloko!” Father exclaimed. “Who named you Kirk Odig?”

Mother was awakened by her husband’s alarmed cry. She demanded to know what the ruckus was about, and Father in a proper huff informed her that their first born son had changed his name while in school. Kodi was in his final year in the University of Lagos, and he had applied for a Master’s scholarship.

Mother turned her flustered gaze to her errant son and demanded to know if what his Father said was true.

“Mummy, I had to change my name because it is too long. Do you know the kind of stress it gave me when I was filling my WAEC and JAMB form??” he retorted.

“That is no excuse!” Father fumed. “You could have simply shortened it”, he added in helpless ire.

Kodi scowled. “Daddy, do you think it is easy shortening ‘Kodinayinma Obierumani Odigidawu’”?

“So you think ‘Kirk Odig’ is a better option? What does ‘Kirk’ mean sef?” Mother demanded, totally flummoxed.

A rowdy argument broke out between the rebel and his parents. Oliver had abandoned his homework and was hooting with laughter, Andrew had roused himself from his musings and was grinning, Andrela had come out from wherever she had been and now sat, clutching her heart and looking like one about to swoon.

Chilo watched everything with semi-detached amusement. It seemed Kodi was always arguing with their parents, and this latest development was definitely going to go down in the familial annals of infamy.

She couldn’t really be bothered because she had more pressing issues that bothered her. Her eldest brother could change his name to ‘Derico Nwamama’, that legendary Onitsha bandit, for all she cared.

She was still reeling in shock from the dirty blow UNILAG had dealt her. She had applied to study Mass Communication, and it was to her utter and complete mortification when she opened the admission letter and discovered that she had been offered admission to study Igbo Education.

Almost convulsing in shock, she had collapsed into Andrela’s arms and wept like a baby. Chilo rarely cried, but whenever she did, it always looked like a dam had collapsed somewhere. She wailed and rained snot everywhere, tore her hair and gnashed her teeth. Mother tried to console the distraught girl as much as she could, but was forced to wonder if the disappointing course offer wasn’t the only reason behind Chilo’s hysterics.

Mother was right, only she didn’t know. Chilo was weeping because she felt that it was her sins that made ill luck dog her. She felt that self-servicing was the open doorway which allowed the devil gain access into her life. Who, if not the devil, would have made whoever it was that responsible for admissions, give her Igbo Education of all courses?? The devil was to blame! She had given him a leeway to oppress her, and now she was reaping the fruit of her immorality. Thus she wailed with an energy induced by shame and regret.

Father had finally allowed her register in a computer school for a training course in Desktop Publishing, but she had not gained anything from the course because the tutor was a very unserious fellow who spent hours talking about his supposed familial ties with the Adeniji Adele family, and how he belonged to the larger extended family of Oba Oyekan. Chilo, who was infatuated with the rather good looking, but chubby cheeked and fleshy lipped young man, did not try to encourage the teacher to stick to the topic, but rather made goo-goo eyes at him and laughed at his air-headed jokes.

She had even had a brief ‘something’ {she didn’t know what else to call it} with a classmate. The classmate, a guy named Kalu, had propositioned her, and because of his persistence, she had agreed to go on a ‘test relationship’.

Kalu rather fascinated her. He was taciturn and in possession of a certain aloof dignity which she found very alluring. When he related, in his conk Igbotic accent, his exploits in the Umuleri/Aguleri War, her heart raced a mile a minute, and she would fancy herself in love. Although he denied killing anybody, there was a certain hardness in his eyes, borne out of witnessing unspoken horrors that belied his denial.

The fascination ended the day, on a certain afternoon when the school was empty, she and Kalu engaged in a lip lock and grope fest. After she had felt the rigid evidence of his arousal with her grasping hands, the larger than life image of him she had built in her mind crashed into million pieces, and she had lost interest completely.

In a way she felt he had been demystified. He was just an ordinary man with blood in his veins, not some African demi-god. He was a man who could be reduced to a panting, groaning mess, just like any other man, so THAT was the end of that!

Half way into the programme, the school was closed down due to low patronage. Chilo had not even gone halfway in the curriculum, so the whole venture was a waste of time and energy.

That was the first blow. Now UNILAG had dealt her another blow.

O how she longed to gain admission to that famed citadel of learning. Life on campus, as related by Andrela and Kodi appealed to her youthful sense of adventure. She was regaled with stories of student life, and she wanted nothing more than to be part of the perceived glittery and glamorous life of the average UNILAG babe. Now, it seemed she was going to have to wait another year.

Father suggested she get a form from the LASU School of Part-time Studies, but she passionately refused. LASU and UNILAG are not in the same league, no sirree!

Another year of boredom, another year of disillusionment and disappointments. Another year of psychologically debilitating self-servicing. . .

Over the months, the rate at which she self-serviced had reduced, but with the bitter pill she was forced to swallow, she went back to full time mast.urbation with a vengeance. However, the voice of her conscience had grown louder and more insistent, and she could no longer silence it.

The voice demanded she stopped polluting her spirit and body. Many times she would tell the voice that she didn’t have any power over the magnet that drew her to por.nography, and that she was fully under the control of whatever demon that was responsible for mas.turbation.

She wept, prayed and self-serviced, in that order.

In her seventeenth year, Chilo wrote the UME for the second time.

“I wonder what course UNILAG will offer you this time” Andrew wondered, when the admission season opened.

Chilo pouted and remained silent.

“Emma’s cousin was offered Urhobo Linguistics last year” Andrela said. Everyone present chuckled, except for Chilo. The memory of Chilo’s outburst was still fresh in their minds, so they were mindful of what they said.

“So did he accept it?” Mother asked.

“Of course he did. He has been writing JAMB since year 2000!”

“It doesn’t matter what you study” Father offered. “Even if it is Broom and Sweeping Technology, as long as you can make a 2.1, you can even be able to work in the bank with it.”

“O daddy please,” Chilo interjected “Igbo Education is the very last thing I ever want to study!”

Months later, when Father brought back an envelope bearing the University of Lagos’ seal, everyone gathered in the sitting room for the opening. Chilo was too nervous to open the envelope so she handed it to Oliver.

Oliver cleared his throat with an air of self-importance.

“It is our pleasure to inform you” he began, “that you have been offered provisional admission to study. . .” He paused and looked up at the tense faces of everyone present.

“TO STUDY WHAT??” Chilo barked.

“What’s your problem? Will you finish reading it, my friend!” Andrew rumbled.

“Islamic Religious Knowledge” Oliver burst out.

Everyone froze.

“Give me that!” Andrew snapped, and grabbed the sheet of paper from Oliver’s hands.

He quickly skimmed the lines and handed the sheet to Mother in utter shock. Mother adjusted her glasses and read what was written on the pristine white sheet, word for word.

“Oloko!” she exclaimed disbelievingly.

Chilo took the letter and read it. Her eyes bulged.

“Are these people mad?!” Father exclaimed incredulously. “Didn’t they see her name before offering her that course?”

Chilo stood stock still for a few seconds before suddenly bursting into laughter.

“Salim really needs to do something about these UNILAG people.” Andrew interpolated in exasperation. He had never bothered to apply in the university, and was now studying Printing Tech in Yaba College of Technology.

Chilo had continued laughing uncontrollably, and at the end everyone ended up laughing over it. It seemed she would have to wait another year again.

However, in the middle of the night when everyone was fast asleep, Chilo soaked her pillow with hot, briny tears. She wept bitterly, feeling very frustrated with her life. She wondered again if her sins were catching up with her.

By this time she had broken up her friendship with Big English, haven decided that his influence was doing her more harm than good.

Chilo was making a conscious effort to stay away from por.nography, and had resorted to giving herself very hot slaps whenever she felt the urge to self-service. Mother was rendered speechless when she walked in one day to behold Chilo mercilessly hammering away at her face. After glibly lying as to the reason why she was beating herself up, Chilo fled to her room.

However, she quickly realised that it would take more than self-torture to kick the bad habit, so she intensified her prayers and got rid of every material in her possession. Big English was in faraway Ibadan studying at the Polytechnic there, so he wasn’t around to supply her por.n even if she had the inclination to request.

Despite her efforts, she still gave in to the urge occasionally, but it was no longer as frequent as it used to be. Whenever she found herself thinking dirty thoughts, she ran to her bible and read Psalm 19 over and over again.

By the time she sat for the UME for a third time in her eighteenth year, she was very well on the road to recovery. She had stopped self-servicing and had forced herself to develop a strong hatred for everything X-rated.

******** ********* *********

“Chiloooooooo!!” Mother called from her bedroom.

It was a hot Thursday morning and Mother hadn’t gone to work because the school where she worked was on mid-term break. Chilo lay spread eagled in bed. Her legs were wide open and positioned in front of the standing fan by the bedside. She had taken off her underwear, and the fan was at full blast. She had read somewhere that it was very important for a woman’s nether parts to have access to fresh air at least once a day to avoid germ infestation, so she was putting the claims to the test.

“Chiloooo!” Mother called again. The loud grinding of the fan’s engine made it difficult for Chilo to hear.

“Ma!” she answered, but made no move to get up.

“Daddy just called” Mother shouted.

“Okay. What did he call about?” She asked.

“He said you have been given admission.”
She immediately sat up and switched off the fan.

“Admission to study what??” she shouted back. Her heart had begun to hammer, even as she absently wondered why Mother hadn’t come over to the room to pass on the good news. Rather, they were conducting a shouted conversation.

‘What had they offered her this time?’ She thought cynically. Mat Weaving Technology?

“Creative Arts!” Mother yelled, happily.

“Creative Arts ke??”

“Yes o. Finally, the Lord has done it.”

Chilo was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Her mind felt strangely blank.

“Are you there?” Mother inquired. Her voice was still raised.
She shook herself and answered: “Yes, mummy. Thank God sha.”

Chilo looked around her. Colours suddenly seemed warmer, more vibrant. She leaned over and switched the fan on. Her long hair billowed like a black cloud behind her. She leaned back on the pillow and positioned her legs again directly in the path of the rushing, cool air.

While she savoured the feel of the delicious air in her nether parts, the eerie numbness that had possessed her senses since Mother had first broken the news began to break apart, bit by tiny little bit.

Comprehension came, swift and sudden.

Chilo hastily reached behind her, yanked the pillow from beneath her head and covered her face with it. Taking a big lungful of air, she screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her entire eighteen years on earth. . .








Forsooth,Part One endeth.

*claps* Perfecto!!

Mazi_Omenuko: How could chilo m.ast.urb.ate for 2 yrs and all the big english guy could do was to supply po.rn material? From roll-on to pestle, what next? Maybe the base of a star bottle!

Ishi, call me when you find a befitting d'kkk for chilo.

You badly need Jesus!

So Chilo finished secondary school at age of fifteen? Even after missing a year due to lack of funds?

uj_sizzle: Chilo!!!
na to find aboniki rub for that toto. Yeye gehl, Ishi abeg find better liberation for the technical virgin biko

uj_sizzle: *claps* Perfecto!!

Thank ya

Campus life nexxxt!

Correct kpekus shall commence

Frosti: So Chilo finished secondary school at age of fifteen? Even after missing a year due to lack of funds?

If you'go back and read carefully, you'll get to the point where it was stated that she jumped straight to Jss2 because she was a precocious child.

Hmmm... Ishi... Beautiful. When I grow up I want to write like you. I have this feeling it's about to take a churchy turn

I'm no english guru, but I think your 'haven decided' ought to have been 'having decided'. Haven sound em... somehow to my untrained ears.

Wow..

Oahray: Hmmm... Ishi... Beautiful. When I grow up I want to write like you. I have this feeling it's about to take a churchy turn

I'm no english guru, but I think your 'haven decided' ought to have been 'having decided'. Haven sound em... somehow to my untrained ears.

My brother me I no know o. English na my third language.

Eze Promoe: Ishilove, Chilo must be disvïrgïned in your next update whether you like it or not

You need Jesus.

Kudos. Sense of description is sensational.

Ishilove i dey suspect say na you be this chilo