Fantasy

I Lay down beside him, his scent electric.
I’m attracted to his vibes, he’s quite eccentric.
I’m halfway in love with him, am I neurotic ?
Do I need a drug ? pain killer ? Or an Antibiotic?

I take sample sniffs, I quite cant help it.
Its toxic and sweet, my stupid smell- fit.
His aroma consumes me, Its all over my bit.
He smells extremely good, extremely lit.

Many a night I’m awake with this fantasy.
Am I pervert ? The lady who’s not quite a lassie. Why am I addicted to his smell, Is this classy ?
I really dont give a fuck, nor a even a tiny mercy.

I love the smell wrapping around him... wafting. Its calling me, beckoning me... waiting.
In my head, I wrap my hands around him... soothing.
In reality, I turn my back... the ending.

The Chase 1

I was scrolling through my Instagram timeline, then I stumbled upon a page. I had to look twice. She looked simply amazing. Beautiful smile, great curves, and pretty eyes. I was smitten. I sent her a DM, but as you can guess, I was willfully ignored. That did not deter me though, I was determined to chase this lady, and get her- especially after finding out she resides in the same area as I did. Her page is a business page and I did justice to it by sending her texts and emails. I still did not get any reply. I was sipping chardonnay a few days after when I had a nice idea. I sent her another message, this time with a twist. it paid off... I got an immediate reply. We began to chat and not long after, I found out that indeed, the number I´d been texting was wrong. She gave a spine-tingling chuckle during our call and it sent a zing to my dick. I could not wait to meet her. On the pretext of business, I set up a meeting with her. She arrived looking sexy as hell and oh so beautiful. we started discussing and I found out quite a bit about her. She is very intelligent and resourceful. I gave her the job on the spot. She is a business analyst and I needed the services of one for my company, although freelance. We had quite the nice discuss and I could not stop thinking about how to seduce her. From that moment onward, I decided to chase her. After the sex, I don't have any plans- but before and during the act, I'm fully ready for her.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!

A lot of character come to our noble gathering, I call them character even though they are the same family that gathers every year; they still pull a show yearly, bringing different drama to the table. My silly uncle David last year got a cute model pregnant and named the child after his wife, this year, his wife discovered that each of their children was named after his girlfriends in his hay days as a gigolo. My aunt Sleeq is a citizen of six countries by marriage as she married six different white men, the crazy side of it all is that, she is engaged to her longtime boo from the Univerisity, Bros Sege amidst all her marital escapades. Bros Segun is a regular face at our new year family reunion since I was 10, that is about eight years ago, hoping to one day wife my crazy aunt, he does the barbecue every year, poor bearded guy. Aunt Bolaji is another drama to behold, she came to the reunion two years ago as a Muslim convert, last year as Jehovah Witness evangelist and this year, she is all traditional, she's been talking deeply about this Orunmila diety, I think she is now a convert in that realm, so weird. My Uncle Utibe, a singer, a gospel one at that; the child my grandma never seize to hype at every slightest opportunity, he is a radical evangelist, known far and wide in the Christian music dorm, he, last year declared to everyone that he is now gay, the shock was still on but got worse this year, when he came back with his gay lover, one fine nerd looking, doctor, he calls Victor. My grandma is still casting and binding the demon out of him.

My favorite uncle, the one I really want to be like, he apparently is the reason my we have a large family, he own a train of baby mothers who are at peace with him,  no official wife and no intention of getting one, my dear uncle Damien, he sings too, the devil's song as my grandma tag it. Of his eight baby mamas; I love four dearly not because they are with him but because I hope to one day tap the ass. They are drop dead gorgeous! Damn! I think his line of work exposed him strictly to beautiful women, long list ranging from my favorite, Temi, dark-skinned full boobs peng bae, she was so hot; my uncle Damien hit twice, she bore him two adorable girls. The mother of the first boy, Eny, she is torture to my world of blues, a body that will arouse the gods and a voice that will calm a storm, she owns a poise that will aid whatever sexual tension you think you have. My third fav Tolu, I don't understand how my hothead uncle landed a lady of her type, my grandma loves her to a fault, she is who my granny hope my uncle will settle with, she is beautiful, smart with a legendary business acumen, despite all these smart traits; she fell for my uncle's wiles, opened her leg and voila, a baby boy came outta the venture, my uncle is a god, don't you think? She still comes around on the request of my grandma, whether my uncle still taps that ass or not; I cannot tell. My last fav and most current baby mama is Bola Smallz, Y'all may know her the owner of one of the biggest nightlife empire in Abuja, damn all that; I know as a stat to the piece of sporadic genital of my uncle Damien, the short, curvy and light skinned lady have my uncle on lockdown right now, she is the most current and headliner, the latest barbie in the store, she is pregnant with twins, it is a wild buzz in the family, I learned my uncle promise to marry her if both children are boys. Playboy move as always! This was the thing she told Aunt Mo, except that one was smart enough to scamper after seeing the dynasty of reproduction my uncle own. All these said, I still want to be him when I grow up.

I have few other no-good uncles, my uncle Kiigbe is an internet scammer who defrauded a bank, was caught and jailed, he came out and is now into cigarette production, most of which he sells to inmates in prisons nationwide, how is that for business acumen. I won't forget to mention my uncle Opus, he is a pastor, runs a ministry, quite successful and popular, his ministry is an all women ministry with only him as the man, unlike my uncle Damien, Uncle Opus married all  his baby mothers, many of which are from his fruitful ministry, I read in the news that he is having problem satisfying them in bed, some news about size of something not long enough to command expected result, his first wife Mbuoti called him out, mad folks I have.

My mom! The one who seems to have it figured out amongst my grandma's kids, a single mother of one (yes, just me), certified businesswoman, all her siblings are financially stable but she seems to be one with a clear conscience money making business empire. She had me  18years ago by the love of her life who ran away and left her to raise a child all alone, she ever since have shut down emotionally and transferred all her love to me and her business, maybe that sped things up for her, her relationship limbo have spanned near two decades, thus it has become an issue at the gathering yearly with same questions of when is she going to love again. The Truth is my mom has been knacking on a low from time. Not different men, just one man who insisted that I call by his name at all time, Mr. Zoza. That dude has been on my mom's ass for years now, they are almost inseparable, it got worse when I clocked 18. It was like my mom was waiting for to just hit 18 and enjoy her rendezvous with her Mr. Zoza.
He has a familiar knock on the door when asked who it is, he replies with a question "his Kemi home?" I know instantly that it is knack time for my pretty mom, so I just laugh when my granny stresses her out on the marriage thing, with a dick she is apparently enjoying being consistent, my mom won't come to that marriage phase, Mr. Zoza is doing a good job.

This, however, might come to my end as my mom just discovered that Mr. Zoza is the husband to her last sibling, my aunt Wunmi. She is as calm as a dove this year and had warned that I do not engage with him (Mr. Zoza)...

All these are why the family just try as much not to dwell on what is happening and try to enjoy the fun of the moment. Many things are left unsaid. Eat your food, sip your drink, catch the vibe and be merry.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

The feeling of new, the air filled with unusual freshness, happiness on the faces of folks, the joy of being alive. Good food, drinks in their variety, eye candy decoration, music, smoke from the barbecue, loud laughs, few fake smiles, wonderful conversations and few other chastising one; these all happening at once is my environment every new year. Maybe too recurring but we all look forward to it, we happily want to experience the same old event. It brings the entire fam together to have a good time and as my grandpa would always say "to enjoy God through each other."

A new day, of a new month and of a new year. It stirs a joy within, you are just happy even if all ain't going well, there is an urge to enjoy the moment, count your blessings, sip or gulp your drink, dance to good music and sometimes; act the fool, which is usually my top activity on the to-do list.

There is a usual sense of abundance in the gathering, abundance of food, drinks, music, love even when it's being feigned and permission; on new years; we youngsters and young adults have an unusual permission, a freedom to do whatever, you can drink alcohol if you want to, no one gives a fuck, no one is watching, even when caught; it is unseen by the seer (does this make sense?) - LOL! No monitoring spirit, no gauge of fun and no judgmental vibe around, even at its slightest. It is the one day you can do just about ANYTHING. This, however, with a reasonable level of trust, these don't change the fact that my piety grandpa and spirikoko grandma won't hesitate to drag you in the mud if your fun is getting outrageous, as an individual; you re expected to recognize that the one day of fun will end and you are left with the rest of the year to answer to your actions. No one wants that baggage, just one act of one day for 364 days of torture. Hell No. 

KONGI X (He Was More)

CLOSURE 

 I drove like a formula 1 contender, to a nearby hospital, he wasn’t received there as they claimed no professional on ground to attend to him, I continued my frantic race, tried two other hospitals, they refused to take him in asking for a police report for treatments to begin, I wondered how they expected us to get a report from a stray bullet. I drove him to a hospital where my mother worked, she was about leaving for the house when we rushed in, with alacrity; she responded, rushed him to a theater, I stood to watch how my mother struggled to revive my hood love, she tore his blood-soaked cream shirt up, for nearly two hours, she removed bullets from inside of him, she explained after stabilizing him that he got hit in delicate places, a bullet to his chest, missed all vital organs and traveled out through his back, one went through his outer left thigh and exited through his inner left thigh causing a minor scrotum hit, one to his leg causing a fracture but the one with concern was that which went through his hip, traveled through vital organs and registered in his upper shoulder area. 

All her professional talks was to say that his chances were slim, she encouraged me to be strong (I still don’t believe she said that), gave me hope by saying he has a determined heart, the time we were was tagged as a time for God to work, she left in anguish and visible sadness. I was with my bae on his bed, he was beating well but was responsive to nothing. 

Unfortunately for me, Kongi never woke from that deep sleep, he died exactly 5:44am, I felt life leave his body, also, a unique type of kick in my womb, I called the nurses to come and verify what I know, Kongi’s work was done. His face covered and all gadgets disengaged, I couldn’t even find tears that day (I cried the most in later times). How can somebody get love so right and live so shortly? 

I never thought for once that He (Kongi) would ever need my mortician service, I was able to cry when I began to wash his remains, it was the most horrible two hours of my life, I had to dress him that one time to never see him again, I broke down a couple of times but mustered up strength to get it over with, his son in the womb was  my strength. It made sense at that point when I remembered him saying a lot will change. I was not even a widow but I felt like one, LOL! I needed to be a symbol of strength to everyone, Kongi won't have it any other way. Knowing him have helped grow a tough skin. 

He got a wonderful, street, colorful, people’s burial BUT I’d rather he was with me in the most un-colorful way. His death paved way for civil interest in the hood, it became better and safe, a street was named after him so was his son. He died a better man, he took a better stand and showed millions the way forward. He came very alive, I could feel his presence, what he usually talked about as a well-lived life was the exact event that was in play. Painfully it took his own death to show the way, I wanted him to myself, sadly, I cannot deny nor control the fact that he is for so many people, he seems to have given the gift he owes me, a version of him; in flesh and blood. I found joy in his legacy, I may have fallen love for a hood boy in the sight of men but I saw him become the best of himself. I regret nothing, I will make sure his son live as much and better than him.  

His life, death, and legacy bring me joy. HE WAS MORE. 

KONGI VIII (He was More)

—- The D day! 

Morning started early for us (I and Kongi), he woke acting all mushy all over, it was quite cold, rain had fell through the night, quite breeze, my warm and ready body responded to all of his touch, the most romantic he’s ever been; kissing, fondling and even twinkling me, I chuckled softly, he was obsessed about my bump which at that time was becoming obvious, he was so all over that I got my first baby kick. He called me beautiful and strong, played with my cheeks, made sure I never stopped smiling just cuz he wants to see my dimple, he said sweet words to me, not those flattering ones — elevating words, more like balm for injuries I’m not sure I have, I turned to him to behold his face, indeed a good way to start the day, i was in one word, a grateful man. 

We made careful love that day, things were on slo-Mo, somebody went for some tutoring, I received my first head from my soon-to-be baby daddy, he went miles above my expectations. He was too careful, maybe to not pop the baby’s head, it was intense in some way, he let me just lie and enjoy his well planned program of what he was going to do with me. I was in trance when his lips met with my vagina, instant synergy, he ate deep, my heart was running, baby was switching position in the womb, I was moaning helplessly, how can one treat a pregnant woman with so much finesse? 

It was too wonderful, so much so — it got me suspicious, every feeling was new, seemed temporary and like something I may never get again, he stroke me gently, marinated in my pool of juice, took his time to make sure I enjoy every JOY. Mixture of hood, tenderness and passion made me squirt the hottest, I even had hiccups, trying to catch my breathe, this point had baby watching for itself as I ceded to the invasive lead of Kongi, he gave the stroke a bit of speed, my legs comfortably in the hair, he filled me in, again; a dream I never had. 15mins in it and Kongi was tireless, his face lit with pleasure, I was having flashes of what seem to not be pleasant, like something is about to happen, the good dick was giving me a clue but was also distracting me from knowing what it is exactly. I wanted him stop but it will be wicked to, considering the joy I was getting (Joy is the exact word) — he finally came, it was cream flood inside of me. He looked happy and fulfilled; we switched to the talk mode, I asked him the reason for the glow:

“A lot will change today” he said 

He got up, dressed and bid me goodbye, this around 5:44am, he was enthusiastic about the day, I was to join him later. Something was off about his exit that morning, I couldn’t place it, it felt like something was going to happen and I cannot help it. I went ahead with the day in sheer optimism, hoping that nothing disrupts the day. 

Packed with crowd, most of people even Kongi wasn’t expecting to see, positive projects as such do not get this many turn out, something was evangelical about the day, I stole glances to admire the enigmatic Kongi, who he was and who he’s becoming, I was glad of my impact, I was trying to have a deep introspection but the flashes from the good sex from earlier in the day continually distracted me. He looked different, he talked different, related different and was ready to command change. It turned out that he was doing what many people would love to do but are too feeble-minded, a natural leader of his caliber was the requirement to make it happen, he got a lot of support, the gathering posed him as the balance between the elites and the ghetto, he shook a lot of hands and shared a lot of love.

Kongi Trying to silence the blustering tension as he was aware that a number of boys in the hood weren’t ready for the change, the dependent system of condemnation happen to be enough for them, some opposing forces were against the cleansing taking place thus there was a drastic need to stop the good about to happen. Kongi didn’t undermine the tendencies of such tension but he chose not to be defensive to pass the message clearly of what a civil society should be. Expected of man who understood violence but against all odds, chose to let love lead.

A lot didn’t think in that direction, a needless fight broke out at the tail end of the program, boys with old grudge against Kongi were the tools used by perpetrators, bullets began to fly everywhere, sporadic and destructive shootings, men and women scampered, young children left at the mercy of the men behind the gun, it’s a movie in my eyes only that there were no cameras or production crew around, Kongi spent time he ought to escape with - trying to save helpless children from gunshots, I watched him from the back of the car where he kept me, bullets in the air like legumes, puncturing through walls and other present amenities, frantic and thoughtless race for safety, some got hit in the process, rants from bullet happy boys, police arrived the scene and it was a shootout, the police seem to want to express their long bottled hatred for the hood, no plan at all to save scampering civilians, loss of lives were mere collateral damage, their aim was to put the backs of notorious hoodlums to the dust; anything that comes between is expendable,  their presence further aggravated the shooting, all I wanted at that point was for Kongi to flee for his life, I was afraid for him, dust was in the air; I couldn’t see clearly, each time a motion is visible, it’s usually Kongi trying to save somebody, everyone were on their heels as it had turned into a battle between two opposite sides. 

Kongi was approaching a counter for cover when he was hit, he fell to the ground, he began to bleed, gasping to keep himself alive, whilst at this; another bullet hit him again, I felt a sharp kick in my womb, I tried to reach for him but couldn’t, the resistance from his associates made sure, I saw him look at me, he tried to drag himself towards me, to a place safe enough to reach him, another bullet pierced his left leg, he groaned in pain, these three bullets after a later research was shot at him by the police. We dashed to pick him as he could move no more, as his blood gushed — his body weakened, he was turning white, craving for the deep sleep(death) to end the excruciating pain.

The Hunt

I want you to hunt me
Me, as I seek and run
Running while your roar your beast
Beastly while you track yours; I
I toss and turn
Turn as sleep eludes my psyche
Psyche that has never beheld you
You yet rob me of rest
Rest, even as I feel your presence
Presence which is Angelic not
Not unlike what is dark and delicious
Delicious like the tang of bitter chocolate
Chocolate with a tinge of sour lemon
Lemon; You’re like thunder
Thunder that is Big and huge
Huge, with a growl to match
Match and catch; while you plunder my snatch
Snatch it all! You’ve taken over my senses
Senses unruly by undiluted opium
Opium causing ecstasy of the rawest delights
Delights leaving me in billows of love
Love that I hate the power you wield
Weilding worse because you don’t even know I
I sigh and think


Thinking of how you prowl and gaze
Gaze into my soul, im your next meal I think
Thinking.. When dost this end?
Endless years you’ve been on my mind
Mind you, But we’re light years apart
Apart, yet I’m building castles in the air
Airing dreams of having your kids run
Running my hands to calm you down
Down and strong, trying to tame your beast
Beastly beautiful, yet I’ve never beheld you
You yet slip fingers through holes of my consciousness
Consciously, they drag apart my reserve
Reserving and creeping into dangerous depths
Deep, even as i scream in love
Lovely, yet I’m bereft of your cups and still
Still the wine bottle is empty
Emptied; It was never filled yet
Yet im drunk on desire
Drunk on thoughts of you
You make me feel
Feel things i cannot
Cannot allow to exist
Existence makes me have sleepless dreams
Dreams of you and I
I and you, although we never Exist..

Stalker

I spotted her like Vitiligo on melanin skin.
Like black spots on Dalmatian pups.
Like black stripes on yellow Lagos buses.

I saw her move and I followed suit.
She skipped and scurried across asphalt and brick roads.
I tiptoed and followed.
I watched and observed with keen interest as she haggled prices at the market place brimming with zest.

"Who is she?" I asked myself whilst being befuddled.
5 foot 8 inches in flowing gown and dazzling hijab.
Her face knocked you out cold like Tyson with one Jab.
Inked hands and feet, artistic aesthetics complementing anatomical perfection.

Savagery

You have a bitter voice
A bitter heart
Yet you yearn to be heard
Woe betide your soul
You spew vitriol
That see men to their end
Your words
Faceless and cowardly
Hiding behind fake accounts
Causing calamity
Breaking homes
Destroying self esteems
Because yours is shattered
Jealous and bitter being
Shriveled with hate
Enemy of everything beautiful
Direct your negative energy
To more fruitful endeavors
You need help
Your mental health is sham
Your emotional health is worse
Speak to a psychologist
Or better still, use that energy to fuck.

Two (Ho story 4)

Okay.. so, I met this absolutely gorgeous hunk at camp. I took a look at him and I was like, yes, I’m definitely gonna have this nigga.
I strolled up to him, and what can I say, we became instant friends. We had a crazy chemistry and a mad build up. Little kisses here and there, little touches and oh so romantic. We fucked the night we got out of camp and it was climatic.
This nigga got a big dick and he absolutely knew how to use it.. I was also on my period, so it helped with the greasing.

Not long after, I realized this nigga had a girlfriend. Which he failed to tell me about. The day I found out, we had finished fucking in his aunts big bed (I went to visit him there) and then this text came in when he went to bath.

Oh well. He’d always gisted me about his brother, but I paid no mind. After I found out about his girlfriend, I didn’t say anything. Just went mumm and then he traveled home. A few days later, he texted me saying he misses me and all— this nigga went to see his girlfriend o! I decided to go visit him. Told him I’m coming.

Unfortunately for him, he was on a date with his girl the day i decided to go. He sent his bro to pick me up from the bus stop If I thought he was gorgeous, I was mistaken! His brother was fineeeer! And taller ! With the sexiest voice ever. While he drove me to their house, I flirted with him like there was no Tomorrow. Later that evening, the camp guy got back from his date with his girlfriend... so we had to lie that I was his brother’s girlfriend He was so pained because he wasn’t able to properly explain to me.. based on the fact that he was claiming single He was caught in the middle Anyway, I slept in the brothers bedroom that night and we had the hottest dry hump in the world. The camp guy was pained asf because his girlfriend was clingy and he couldn’t get space to talk to me properly.
Suffice to say, I fucked the brother too. Whose dick is better by the way, and I left them with their mess.
Oh , after fucking the brother, I still fucked him too. On the same bed.

KONGI VII (He Was More)

I haven’t replied when he launched in, Jeez!! 🔥

I think I lost three years of my span from that pain, all I could call was my mommy, it definitely wasn’t Kongi’s first time, he stroke the shii out of me, maintaining same speed, being consistent and coming in correct; such prowess! He guard the bench with his legs, helped balance my leg on his shoulders and did necessary justice, it took time for me to adapt to the pain but HEY; it was worth it. It was the first best sex of my life, that night created a standard of what it should be for me, I pleaded that he cum, the dude could go all night. Hood dick needs a special anointing to contain — for anyone considering one.

We had various wonderful sex, in weird places and in the most outrageous manner, I remember having one in the morgue, you really don’t want me to share that. 

KONGI VI (He Was More)

DID WE KNACK? 

Oh yes! We did! Multiple times and I have no regrets. There was no way I could say No to such alluring dick, it was irresistible—I have seen it form ambiguous long shapes in trousers when in its prowess, ever since have I had it as a dream to one day take it in. 

It was against all I was taught as a child, ironically; my first sex was a hood sex, with a hood dick and on a hood bench; yeah you read right — a hood bench.  Wonderful cold night, after the rain had disturbed the day, we were seated at Kongi’s favorite spot, I was taking him through some English lessons as he was preparing at that time to go back to school, we have had two hours of serious and focused lecture thus I was bored and tired; So I pleaded that we did something else, he obliged in the most surprising way, it was pitch dark with another looming rain, the cold was brute, he chose to sing for me, he made me promise not to laugh, I haven’t seen him want to sing, it was a ‘go’ for me, I grinned hard, it was quiet, the rain and its wetness had sent people to bed and some to liquor joints. He began to sing to me with gravely voice, very low in tone and melodic, it was the Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds song, I was seated on his laps, facing him and backing the road where we were.