Kinky Fifty something (second part)


He told me what each was used for, when and how it was going to be used, and what would warrant him to use them. I watched in total amusement. My knowledge of Dom/sub is from the movie FOSG, which i thought was somewhat cool. Excitement crawled up on me as i thought of being tied up and spanked. There i was two weeks ago thinking  I’d seen and done it all. He got up and walked towards me in a slow but rather dramatic manner, he began to kiss me, then put the blindfold on, while he secured the blindfold he refused to let me touch him. Did he think he was Christian Grey? It was frustrating well because I’m used to being in control, i used to be the one wearing the boss pants. He asked that i be silent and not touch him, then he started to take my clothes off, slowly teasing me with his fingers. My excitement climaxed, adrenaline rushing through my veins, i just couldn’t wait for the next step. There i was butt naked before Frank, all i heard were foot steps, it killed me that i didn’t know where he was and what he was doing. He held my hand as he ushered me into another room, i guess it was his bedroom, with every step i took, lust filled my soul. We finally stopped walking and he instructed i get on my knees, legs spread, wrists together behind my back. He tied my hands with what felt like leather as he tightened the bindings until i could barely twist my hands.. A part of  me was more than terrified and i kept on thinking there was a possibility Frank was about to use me for some sort of sacrifice. The greater part of me wanted to stay till the end. So i went with the greater part of me that chose to stay.

He then said from that moment on i was going to refer to him as sir, talk only when i was asked and for every time i defy his instructions he’d give he five whips of the cane he showed earlier. He said a Dom’s role was to give a sub what she needed and that was exactly what he was going to do. At that point i was so wet i felt my juice slide by my thighs. I felt something soft work through my ear to my breasts then my midriff area all the way to my wet self, it tickled in a way that got me turned on. I could feels Frank’s breath on my neck as his hand’s made to loosen up the blind fold. The dim lights from the chandelier was all i had, Frank looked years younger. I wanted him and i wanted him with immediate urgency, i felt like my life depended on him tossing himself inside me.

Damn it! Frank, how long are you going to torture me for? He stood right there above me, as i fell to the floor in utmost frustration. He knelt beside me and whispered in my ears ” you broke the rule’s sweetheart”, remember what happens when you do?” His voice was smooth, like water laced with ecstasy. The cane landed on my behind, the sound echoing in my ears as i tried to understand what just happened. SWAT! And three more spanks followed suit. A brief image of my mum beating the hell out of me with her two mouthed koboko when i came last in primary 4 clouded my memory right before i got back to reality. But this pain was different, i enjoyed it, even though my back side felt like a thousand needles were pricking at once. I cried out in pleasure and mostly pain. He then gently caressed my behind before helping me back up to my kneeling position. He sounded like a total stranger when he requested i follow orders to avoid more pain. I thought it was funny that he was giving order’s, he sounded like some power crazed politician. Laughing was a bad idea as he didn’t find it funny and it seemed to upset him. But i heard him laugh with me as i felt something feathery stroke my breast, it felt soo good , i could feel my nipples rise,  then a harsh whip followed suit. I let out a loud cry as the whip landed on my breast the second time. It was probably the most painful thing my breast’s ever felt, but it was bitter sweet pain, i loved and at the same time hated it.

” i love me an obedient woman Kokoma, and you are going to be an obedient woman for daddy”  he allowed one hand rest on my head.
My wants rose from zero to hundred then vice versa in thirty seconds. How could he go all daddy on me?  I allowed a small smile escape my lips to hide my frustration. I decided to play along. Excerpts from FSOG came to my head as  His questions snapped me out of my stray thoughts “do you understand?” He said in the most authoritative way. “Yes sir” i replied with my head down.

He got down and knelt before me. I could feel him on my neck, as his warm breath moved from my ear to my neck. He complimented my fruity smell and admitted it got him more excited, excitement in his eyes like an adventurous child. His hand slowly worked  from my ear to my lip, as i made a weak attempt to suck on his finger, but it was down my neck in no time. I cursed beneath my breath. His hand gently explored my nipples, he knew i was more than ready for him. He looked up at me and ordered i looked straight into his eyes. For some reason i was shy, i was weak for him and he knew it. He’d won and he wanted to rub it in my face, i hesitated for a bit before he reminded me of the consequences of disobeying his order’s. So i slowly rose my head to meet his gaze, his eyes were brown and wide, all i wanted was to rip those stupid binds off and get on top of him. I felt his fingers tease my triangle, my eyes wide with surprise. He wasn’t about to do what i thought he was going to do, his fingers trailed off to feel my damp thighs. My vulnerability gave in to the horses riding in my belly as his finger slid between my legs and stopped. I let out a deep sigh. He complimented my perfectly waxed beneath, i responded with the usual “yes sir”. This time meaning it, the power he had over me made me tingle all over, it curled audaciously round my inside. I took a deep breath, as i shut my eyes in lust as his fingers parted my lips and it was in. His finger found my crux and pressed firmly. Again and again. My heart was about to implode, the room was spinning. My breathing seized,  nothing in the world mattered to me at that moment except the unexplainable pleasure i felt from the way he played and pressed. I couldn’t help but let a loud moan through every ounce of emotion that run through my body while he worked me until my body gave up everything I had to offer. For the second time that night, Frank kissed me. It felt so good all i could do was loose myself in the moment.
   He carefully lifted me from the floor then placed me at the edge of the 3 feet high bed, he got on top of me, biting, sucking and kissing every part of me amorously, my legs wrapped firmly around his lower waist. I wanted to dig my fingers in his back so bad, i wished the stupid binds weren’t so tight, they cut into my skin every time i tried to cut them loose. I cursed out loud then asked him to take the binds off. He gave an evil smile before landing four hot slaps on my cheeks

“You don’t tell me what to do sweetheart” his eyes were filled with rage.
then he flipped me to the edge of the bed, my head down to my waist dangling down the edge of the bed while my legs struggled to stay locked. I felt the blood rush too my head, i could have sworn i heard a snap from my back. That was when i knew it was over. Before i let out a defeated sigh as everything around me turned black.

I woke up sweating and trembling. It took a moment before i realize where i was. I was in my bedroom and it was my birthday. I was a little bit disappointed that there was no Frank and it was all a dream. But more grateful i wasn’t half dead.

Kinky fifty something


    I always prayed to God that whenever my time was up, he should be merciful enough to make it fast, probably when I was asleep or something. I knew I was going to die that night, Well my best bet was it wasn’t going to be fast and I was going to be fully aware, well  not fully aware, I believe I was almost half dead as I lay in a position I would have believed to be anatomically impossible. How did I find myself in this near death circumstance? First of all, in my signature self defence tech; I’ll blame a huge part of this on misconception and a dash of fantasy and stupidity.
It’s alright to say I’ve had my fair share of fuckboy’s, Yoruba demons and what not. At 26, I’d been with about 16 people, from church boys, geeks, extreme romantics, numb fucks, basically I’ve dated almost all body types, tribe and financial class our country Nigeria has to offer. Well excluding married men, they’ve always been a no no for me. My last relationship was the longest and most dedicated investment of my life. Todimu and I dated for about 2 years ( forgive me, I but get bored ) but that wasn’t the case with Todimu, I didn’t get bored with this one. I loved him and he did too or so I thought. I found out he’d gotten two girls pregnant , to put a ceremonial ribbon on his achievement, his brothers wife was one of them. Being the shady one in a relationship used to be my thing, and just when I decided to give being ethical a try, baby boy went on to become a sperm depositor. I cried, gained weight, went through the whole hard work of the post breakup therapy.
  It took me about six months to fully get over Mr sperm depositor. Honestly I got bored of being alone. I needed to start dating again, but I wanted to be with someone new to me, I needed a new experience. During my post breakup syndrome, I spent a lot of my spare time reading romance novels and I found I was attracted to the older characters. So I decided to Chanel my attraction towards older men. But the big problem now was that, finding me a hot, single fifty something sugar nut was a huge problem, I didn’t mind an average muffin top but I just couldn’t go all the way with those pregnant looking men. But the universe decided to favoured me on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
   Frank was about 51. He was a divorcée with two kids. He’d just moved back to Nigeria after his divorce. He spent the better part’s of his years in Spain. And yes! He was one of the best looking guyz I’d ever been with and his Spanish was enough to get me turned on every time he spoke in the language . He was smart, witty and full of life. He was a famous chef and  owned one of the biggest restaurant’s in Abuja. I went on a lone wolf dinner at his restaurant to celebrate my promotion to head of operations manager. Did I mention I’m a banker?  Forgive my manners. Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Kokoma Ndifrike, I’m one of the most successful, manipulative, power driven bankers you’ll ever meet. I graduated top of my class at the university of Abuja. I’m presently the youngest head of operations manager in the history of my bank. I really don’t want to spend time gloating about my achievements, so Back to my near death experience. Frank and I got talking, He was so young at heart, he knew something about everything. He was such a hipster and he loved to rub his achievement in my face. He told me about how he met his ex wife, how they fell in and out of love, and all that nostalgic talk about his past. We spent so much time on the phone and we facetimed everyday. We had similar interests, Frank was my kind of person, I loved that he enjoyed being in control. We went golfing on our first date and subsequently hung out at lounges and other places we both loved. It felt nice to hangout with someone i could honestly relate to.
  It was my birthday and Frank had planned a private dinner at his house, just me, him and a table filled with all the aphrodisiac bliss you could ever imagine. Frank’s house was a massive mansion, one could tell it wasn’t one of the new money mansion’s in town. The architecture was solid and everything about that house had a touch of elegance to it. I actually saw myself living there with Frank on the long run. He’d given all his staff the weekend off so we could have the house to ourselves. For dinner we had what Frank called “his special take on sea food” he  made what was hands down the best champagne ginger cocktail I’d ever had. Dinner was divine, well apart from sitting opposite frank at his 10 seat Italian dinning  and drooling over his beautiful features as he spoke about food with nothing but passion and sincere love. I couldn’t wait to rip his clothes off And show him what being with a hot connie felt like. He took me on tour round his house. The last room we went into was his bedroom, Frank had explicit taste and everything in his room was Victorian. His walk in closet was well organized from his shoes, to his shirts, to his chefs uniform. Everything was in the right place. His cologne stand was the best part of the house, he had over 20 different types of perfumes. Name it, he had it. He unintentionally gloated about every country he’s been too and how many international celebrities he’s worked for. His stories were nice and adventurous, for a moment i was even jealous of how spontaneous he was, but truth be told I was getting bored. Why was he stalling, sigh it was up to me Make the first move. He was showing me one of his signature chef uniforms and asked if I could try it on, for some reason he was excited and he had this naughty smirk on his face as he buttoned up the uniform. We were about a feet apart, heart pounding, the tension and steam filled the room, he suddenly grabbed my butt closing the gap between us as he leaned in to kiss me. I didn’t see it coming but I was glad he made the first move. His kiss was something like a hungry teen impatient and eager to get to the next stage. For a fifty something his grip was firm enough to keep me in place. His cologne weakened my knee’s. He smelled so so good, I could have him for breakfast through dinner for the rest of my life. He whispered something in my ear, something I didn’t expect. I was surprised but at the same time excited “let’s role play” his voice was different, for some reason I thought he sounded like luscious from empire. Hell yes I wanted to role play with my kinky fifty something hipster. I immediately assumed the role of chef, I started planning on how to be the best fake, sexy chef Frank had ever seen. He took his shirt off revealing his beautifully toned body. How does a fifty something year old man look this good, he bent over  to retrieve something’s from the bottom drawer he stood before. He brought out a pair of biker gloves, a folded cane, a blind fold, and restraints…

Not a mindless post

A United Nation statistical report states that more than 250,000 cases of rape or attempted rape are reported to law enforcement annually. Apparently about 3,512 people between the year 1999 and 2013 have been reported to be victims of vitriolage and sexual assault, Majority of them women.

Nurbanu: a 36 year old woman from Bangladesh, was forced to go back to her husband after destroying half of her beautiful face with acid.
   Zhou Qin, a female teacher in Bijie Ashi reported a case of rape to the police and she was dismissed on the basis that “sex with with a condom is not considered rape”. We have 33% of law makers in Yemen saying some women deserved to be raped. If the so called law enforcement officers in a country  can say that… Then the victims are damned and the culprits are being handed merit awards for violating a fellow human. I do wonder if they will stand their ground if the tables were turned.
Dianna, a beautiful 25 year old was gang raped, and her case was practically thrown out the window because she was a sex worker.. Most believe sex workers shouldn’t file a rape or assault case because of what they do, Majority even believe they deserve it.
     Countries like Yemen and other middle East countries do not acknowledge child marriage and marital rape as a constitutional offense. In countries like Sudan and  China  if substantial evidence cannot be found to charge an accused person. The victim may face persecution on other sexual offenses and may incur the death penalty. We have about 74% of women in Mali saying “a husband is justified to beat his wife if she refuses to have sex with him”. 44.5% of rapist in Cambodia never experienced legal charges.
  In 2013 about 1,822 cases of rape was reported in Brazil, most of the victims being women. And just 70 persons where “arrested” in relation to the assault. In 2010 mexico reported about 14,993 cases of rape where filed by the police.
In South Africa a woman is killed on domestic violence on an average every eight hours.
Sexual assault in Nigeria is pretty much the same as every other African country.
The CLEEN Foundation reports 1 in every 3 women admitting to being a victim of domestic violence. The survey also found a nationwide increase in domestic violence in the past 3 years from 21% in 2011 to 30% in 2013. Sexual violence in Nigeria is mostly not reported by the victim’s as a result of lack of evidence and most importantly due to the social stigmatization that comes with going public. About 25 percent of women in Nigeria reported the case of forced sex in the hands of their previous or present spouse.The list is endless.
   The most alarming part is the stigmatization most victims have to go through in the hands of family members and society. Majority of domestic violence and assault victims prefer to keep their ordeal to themselves mostly because of the manner in which law enforcement agencies in their country handle assault cases. It is never a survivors fault, they should NEVER be treated like it’s their fault. Most Assault victims are not brave enough to live with the post effects and tend to thread the path of depression, anxiety or even worse; commit suicide. Though the cases of female on male assault’s aren’t as high, doesn’t make it nonexistent . Above 80 percent of this incidents die with the victims, because society has a stereotype image of what a man should and shouldn’t be and being assaulted by a “mere” woman isn’t one of  the should’s. Sadly such cases aren’t even taken seriously by law enforcement in many countries. That being said, There’s a need  for society  to know that either intentionally or not domestic violence  and assault are totally unacceptable. Victims don’t deserve to be treated as outcast either by law enforcement or society. They need to know that people out there are ready to stand by them, help them survive this ordeal and fight the good fight. We need to support the few brave ones that have taken it upon themselves to help survivors get their life back.  Women need to know that no man has the right to devour them. Women in third world countries need to know that there is nothing justifiable about assaulting a woman and no man should go Scot free for engaging in such barbaric act.
Irrespective of the circumstance,intentions and emotional state of the predator, sexual violence is still a tool used to scar, hurt , dominate and objectify others and should never be justified. Men need to understand that assault and violence are totally unacceptable by the law and is an unforgivable sin In the sight of the creator. Reducing the rate of violence against defenseless women and men all over the world should be part of our top priorities in making today’s world a better place. Different victims handle the post assault phase differently and it is common for survivors to experience anxiety, paranoia, fear, disassociation, anger,and or depression. The healing process takes time, requires love patience, and spiritual growth, survivors need to be reminded of all the beautiful reason they have to live again and regain a sense of control over his or her life.
I do not know that all this talk about domestic violence and its statistics will make sense to my readers, i do not know that anyone reading this will take me serious. But what i do know is that victims are falling all the way down the bottom of the depression well and i do know that assault victims need to be shown endless support and love. These are little things we are more than capable of giving and guess what? It doesn’t cost a single penny.

Chronicles of Miss Allen’s love life ( final part)



I stood there too shocked to give Tuvi an answer.. He’d just asked me to marry him, MARRIAGE!!! Tuvi and I met barely two months ago most of which I spent ignoring him while I fantasized about him making sweet love to me. But that wasn’t the point now, he wanted me to be the mother of his children, his Salamander, even though I still wonder why he chose to use the word ” Salamander” aniways he wanted so much from me and I just couldn’t be all those things, I needed time. Saying no to him was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, he looked so vulnerable. I told him I couldn’t and the best excuse I could let out, of all the million and one reasons I had was the repulsive “its not you, its me” spiel. I drove home that night in tears concluding I was one of the one in five black women destined to end up alone. My case a little bit spiced up with me having over fifteen cats and various collections of Russian nesting Dolls to keep me company when I’m old and grey.

Once, when I was ten, Molly and I went with my mum to the beach. It was on one of those rare occasions when she had the time to cater to us, so we were both excited as the prospect of having fun with her. Molly was an excellent swimmer so she loved the beach even more. She was older by two years but we always did everything as twins. It was probably because I was super smart in school so I caught up early and we’d been in the same class for a while now. While we were playing, I stumbled on a glass seashell. It was very beautiful and I knew it would look even more gorgeous framed somewhere in my room. I hurried off to find a bucket to scoop it up in. As I returned, I saw Molly rubbing gently on my seashell. She had found it and dug it up. I told her to hand it over! It was mine. I had found it first after all. She refused saying she found it first. Adamantly, I refused to let this go. Molly was my best friend, and had a knack for having her way and I was going to draw the line here. I made for the seashell and she resisted. We started to tussle, each fighting hard to claim this price. My mother who had previously been on a reclining chair was now behind us, watching our dance of superiority. She told us to stop and took the seashell from us. I thought, mum will most definitely solve this. She’ll give it to me. She turned towards the waves and threw the seashell as hard as she could without saying a word into the water way beyond our reach. To this day, she never told us why she did that but now, she doesn’t need to either. Right now, in this dance of superiority between these men in my life, I’m that seashell.

After I turned Tuvi down that night, I called Molly. She had been living in Port Harcourt for two years now with her husband Tonye, the oil executive. They loved each other deeply and started off as high school sweethearts. Theirs was a love story I longed for and tried to model, with less success obviously. I got with Chukwudi in the first place to have what I envied in my bestie, the security of having a man to call mine. I really was that naïve at that time. I cried with Molly on the phone, talking to her about my dilemma, about Tuvi, about how both men made me feel. She was coming down to Abuja to help me out. I needed her to. She had always harped on the benefits of independence. I never took heed because in my opinion, she had that self-assurance because she was in a solid relationship that had been tested and trusted. I just wanted my best friend here with me. She always knew what to do.

In the time it took Molly to get to Abuja from Port Harcourt, I decided to do some soul searching of my own. I was to meet my 15 year old protégé for dinner as lunch was out of the question. She was in SS1 and didn’t get out of school till about 2. The dinner meeting was at her family home, with her parents and younger siblings present. Basically, I was going to have dinner with the family and then pitch my idea of a new deal to her and her parents at the table. How not fun.

Hauwa was an amazing 15 year old. As soon as she saw my car pull up to the driveway, she walked out of the house to meet me. We exchanged pleasantries and she complimented my outfit and my hair, mentioning that her dad made her cut hers so she could concentrate in school and that she couldn’t wait for college so she could grow hers out like mine. I found that funny because I did start to grow my hair out in college, a brutal six years of the natural look therapy. She talked about her friends, the inspiration for her books, her imaginative processes, what it was like to have a Catholic for a father and a Muslim mother. I did not solicit this chain of conversation but I was glad to be involved in them. She talked about what she wanted to do as an author, the awards she was most interested in winning and who her inspirations were. After introducing me to her parents and siblings she invited me to her room upstairs as her dad prepared the table for dinner. He was the better cook and his wife, Hauwa’s mother is so proud of his skills that she ‘unleashes’ him whenever the family had guests; a task he grabs with open arms and hands clasping a spoon and spatula.

In her room, we got talking about school. She asked me what my secondary school experiences were, how I dealt with peer pressure and boys. She ventured to say that she knew I was one of the popular girls. She then wished she was popular. She wrote under an alias so nobody in school knew she was a bestselling author. Again her parents insisted on it, to give her the semblance of a normal life. Smart parents. So, here I was talking to this normal 15 year old with all the problems and quirks I had at that age and with all the insecurities and an even greater pressure to succeed that I did at that age. The only thing I was ‘bestselling’ at was my skill at jumping into a moving bus on my way back home after school. I found myself giving her advice on the dos and dont’s of the teenage years, how I navigated secondary school, and then college. I didn’t however broach conversations about boys. It seemed this household was strict and not like my liberal upbringing so my experiences in that regard would not compare. In all this time, not once did I get a chance to bring up the new deal.

After dinner, we sealed the deal. Her parents were happy with the new arrangements and we had Hauwa on board. I felt good. This was a big win for the firm and for me. As I stood to leave, I remembered what I was going home to and I got sad again. It’d been such a good day with this family, I didn’t want to leave. Outside, Hauwa stopped me before I got in my car. She thanked me for showing up in person today. She then reiterated that she meant what she said when she told me I was amazing. She had googled me and then started to tell me all she found out about me and the things I had accomplished before making senior partner at the firm. I was impressed with what she knew, I had forgotten I did some of that stuff. As she made for the front door of the family house she said, “Miss Allen, you’re the shit. I do want to be like you when I’m older”.

I kept thinking about that on my way home. I am the shit. I am a damn good seashell and I will survive in the water.

Chronicle of miss Allen’s love life ( part 7)


I remember that night vividly… Like it was an hour ago, it was the night Chukwudi promised to make me ‘a woman’ the night he promised to introduce me to the other side of me I never knew existed. A night of so many unfulfilled promises. Well what basically happened that night was nothing more than Chukwudi popping my cherry now that I think of it; the sex wasn’t all that,it lasted way too long and I was in pain and I had a tear and I suffered for about four days. But in the midst of all the discomfort I was eager to learn more, to feel the unexplainable excitement and chill down my spine, and most importantly to hear Chuck’s say he owned me and no one else will ever make me feel this way and I was his forever. It always made me feel some type of sweet way whenever he said those words and he knew the power it had over me. So when he said those exact same words in his hotel room four years later all I felt was this burning heat from within, I wish it was the heat of Passion but it wasn’t; it was pure unadulterated anger. Something I didn’t even know I felt. And I knew exactly why I was angry. I was angry because Chukwudi was a two timing, lying, manipulative, twisted, self centered, son of a bitch. I was upset that despite all he had done to me, he had the impetus to say those words to me. What was he expecting to happen though? He probably hoped my knees would get weak, my heart would race  and then I’d comburst and tell him I love him. None of that was ever going to happen  and most importantly I was angry because the sex wasn’t that good and I was at the verge of receiving a query at work.  I realized he was close to letting out, so I withdrew from his grip, and left him hanging.
   On my way to work I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself, even though it took me 4 years of being his yes girl, I was glad it was finally over. I replayed my final words to him in his hotel room just before I left in the most elegant yet dramatic manner I could have ever pulled off. The terror and shock in his eyes made me feel nothing but endless glee. Chukwudi couldn’t believe I was walking out of his life for good. And after cursing and yelling he promised i was going to be back. He said he was all i knew, and he was damn wrong! I walked away and nothing was ever going to bring me back to him. I wasn’t even going to dwell on how I wasted four years of my life on a guy named Chukwudi Rejoice Peters. I decided to do some soul searching of my own.I decided to invest in work, so i requested to work on the Omeliora case. A fifteen year old prose savant who already had three best sellers to her name was in talking with the firm to have us publish her new work. The top three vipers I worked with were also interested in this particular deal, I had about zero percent hope but for some unknown and weird reason my boss decided I was the best man for the job. I had a whole week to prepare and make sure I signed the deal.
    About five days after closing the Chukwudi chapter, Tuvi messaged to ask if I was interested in going to the movies later that night. To be fair I know ignoring him was a terrible thing to do and I sort of felt guilty because he was nothing but a sweet young man, whom in a way helped me see Chukwudi for the skunk he was. So I agreed to go to the movies with Mr hotshot . Tuvi looked as effortlessly elegant as ever, he got two tickets to watch ” The great Gatsby” I remember I told him the book was one of my favorites and I was impressed he didn’t forget. The movie was beautiful, Leonardo DiCaprio killed it. When Jay died protecting the love of his life; Daisy, and she didn’t have the decency to go for his burial or send her condolence. It got me thinking, I didn’t want to end up like Jay neither did I want to be the Daisy in anyone’s life. I just wanted to be the little Miss sunshine in everyone’s life. So I decided I was going to take things slow with Tuvi, explain to him that I didn’t want anything serious, well not for a while. I was going to tell him after the movie. The last thing I wanted was to lead him on. We got engaged in a little post movie critique over a bottle of wine at some fancy place I didn’t know even existed in Abuja. It was time to tell Tuvi how I really felt, as I proceeded to start the conversation, Tuvi suddenly had something to say, after pushing back and fort we agreed for him to go first, it seemed like he had good news. But I swear by everything holy and pure I wasn’t expecting what came out of Tuvi’s mouth…

Chronicles of Miss Allen’s love life (part 6)



I was about ten step’s away from knocking on Yinka’s door and creating what would be the greatest scene in my entire existence. Then I thought to myself, was this confrontation necessary? The devil on my left shoulder wanted me to go in there and pour my heart out to Yinka, risk a 70 percent chance of being humiliated in the presence of that rat faced jerk and well possibly beat the shit out of his two timing self while I was at it, but The angel on my right shoulder made me realize my action will probably put too much pressure on her, and  giving her a reason to get with her shit face ex was the last thing I wanted. So I returned to my car and drove home half mad and half convinced I did the right thing. Days went by and I couldn’t get myself to stop thinking about Yinka, God! The thought of Her body and her weird laugh clouded my mind. I’d hoped for days that she was going to call but there was nothing. The girl needed time to think and make up her mind, and I had enough of it to spare.


After chukwudi left my house that morning, I was more confused than ever. A part of me wanted to give him another chance for the umpteenth time, While the other part of me forbade me from thinking about him.
  I’d promised to give him an answer by Thursday, and it was Thursday already. I knew what I wanted and I was well aware of what I deserved and Chukwudi wasn’t part of it. I was sure I didn’t want to be with his two timing, lying self anymore, I played my memorized speech over and over again in my head as I  got out of my car. Telling the man I loved for so many years I didn’t want to have anything to do with him ever again at nine a.m on a drizzling Thursday morning was one thing, me foolishly deciding to do it in person right before going to work was the king of dumb moves. I felt more confident in front of my mirror an hour before as I admired myself in my black three quarter body con skirt and nude chiffon wrap top. At this point matching this outfit with black red soles was worse than a terrible hair day on a monay morning. My feets where sweating and i could tell i was walking in an awkward manner. Thank goodness I was the only one on the walk way, I began to have second thought’s and questioned my feelings.
I summoned every ounce of courage and I knocked on his room door and in no time he opened up, chukwudi looked fresh, elegant and edible in his all black traditional outfit, there was no way in hell I was going to dump this hot slice of freshly baked chocolate cake. We sat at opposite ends of the couch, his eyes fixed firmly on mine, he asked what my final decision was as if he was certain I was going to take his lying ass back, sad part is I actually wanted his lying ass back, I wasn’t sure I wanted his lying ass back forever but I knew I wanted him right there on that couch or the table six feet’s away. I cautioned my thought and tried to hold his gaze, I told him I was confused and needed more time. He moved closer to me, eyes still fixed on mine, my heart began to beat faster, my heart pleading with me to leave and never return, but my body was in contrast. My body wanted him all over me doing different exciting things. Before i could think of an excuse as to why this was a recipe for disaster, He pulled me close, forcing me against his chest, His lip was on mine in no time, waiting for a go ahead, breathing heavily. I lost all sense of reasoning as I parted my lip. His kiss was rough and warm not exactly how I remembered it to be but I still went ahead. Before I knew it we were on our feet peeling  off every piece of clothing we had on.  He spent few seconds appreciating my every curve with his eyes before he pulled me back in and continued to kiss me then his hands came to life as he let his fingers find their way to my ready sex,  with two fingers inside of me,the feeling was more uncomfortable than it was Tuvi, this was different, it was rough fast and slightly hurtful. I felt him and I could tell he was already filled with want as the the level of his arousal increased. He let go of my mouth as he turned me  over  the table in front of us, yes! The table, My legs apart, one hand firm on my back, the other firm on my behind. In a nano second he was inside of me,He didn’t slow down movement, i was excited mainly because i had never been bent over. my breast going back and forth, he spanked my behind and the words that followed changed everything for good…

Chronicles of Miss Allen’s love life (part 5)



When my father, the adroit political playmaker Tambuyi Peters called me and ordered I be back in Nigeria in a fortnight for a ‘meeting’, I knew he had made yet another power play. After that phone call, my frolics in Dubai seemed commonplace. The video vixen and reality star I had flown out from the U.S to party with us no longer seemed as distracting. It didn’t stop me from getting with them though. That was probably the only highlight of the entire trip. I was more than eager to go home. And then there was Yinks, my virgin sidepiece. We’d started talking again after I decided to take a break from her about ten months ago. I don’t know what it was with girls that give up their virginity to you but they become too clingy. It was all supposed to be harmless fun. When we met four years ago, I got with her in response to a dare from my guys because everyone in our circle knew Yinks was the hottie that did not get with anyone. She was this up and coming editor with a meteoric rise and a heavy resume. Everybody wanted her, no one was winning. So, I took up the challenge. I played my game which had never failed before and I won her. When she told me, she was a virgin; it irked me out a bit to be fair. It was just odd. Who’s still a virgin in this age? She was my rare price though and I collected. After that, probably the euphoria of being the only man to have gone there kept me interested in her, even though I wasn’t a one-woman man and that will never change. Sex with her was unique. She started out clueless and let me dominate, basically teaching her everything. I even introduced her to porn, I think. I’ve got to say, it all turned me on. She was mine to do with as I pleased, and I pleased a lot.

I got bored, as I always do with women so I had to end it with her. She didn’t take it very well. Molly, a friend of hers kept me informed on how she was. Eventually, I grew tired of the women in Lagos. I’d gone round full circle among the socialites. I didn’t fancy movie stars; too public and the female captains of industry were a tad old for me. Abuja was straight dead as far as I was concerned and it was a no go area down south, so I decided to take a vacation abroad, somewhere. I needed the space too because believe it or not, I missed my sidepiece. I don’t know, I might have fallen in love with her, you never know with these things, so I had to get out of Nigeria for a minute to recalibrate. Oshos had suggested Dubai a while back so we decided to hit the UAE.

About a month in, I missed Yinka badly. I mean, she was my Yinks. I had been casually sending her emails all this while and when she finally replied, I was super geeked. Oshos thought I was being a pussy and maybe I was but she had me hooked. We started talking again, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company like before. She had a thing for writing, so I wrote to her by hand. It was a bullshit task because I had to tell her I was at a village in Sudan with my NGO covering kids who were victims of forced migration, and then I had to re-route the letters through there to get to Nigeria or some shit like that just to give the ruse credibility. It was tiring but I wasn’t about to tell this chic I was busy getting it every other night out here in paradise. I did mean it when I wrote to her that I missed us and I wanted us back together, at least I think I did; I don’t know, man. I also had to tell her I got promoted at work and would be back home to resume soon. Truth was my dad had me quit that job ages ago, when I told him I was interested in politics. I never told Yinka that. A fortnight passed and I was on my way back to Nigeria. Oshos stayed behind. He couldn’t get enough of Arabian women. Yinka and I had gotten back together and I was going to go see her in Abuja after I met up with my family. I cussed myself out on how I was looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe I really was a pussy

When my dad introduced Tamara, his plans became clear to me. He was setting me up with one of the most powerful families in Nigeria. The Amadis held key positions in government by none more critical than those held by Tamara’s four older brothers. The patriarch of the family Ahamefula Amadi was a one-time governor in old eastern Nigeria and rubbed shoulders with past heads of state making him one of the richest men in the east. Tamara was his youngest out of 8 children and he played no games with her welfare. Both parents had come to an arrangement I wasn’t privy to but I was going to marry this girl. She wasn’t a stunner. In fact she was nowhere near Yinka but someone surrounded by such power was not to be joked with, and she was a force in her own right; Oxford graduate, worked as a partner in a law firm in the U.K. We talked, after dinner, away from the family of course. We went out, somewhere, I forget the place but it was Italian. She was tired of men intimidated by her status and family. She couldn’t stay in a stable relationship as she usually towered over her partner and this was no fault of hers. She was very warm and fun to talk with, and smart as a whip too. I could get how her pedigree would throw guys off. The class system is dead I know but sometimes it does matter. We vibed though as we shared a lot of things in common, asides a strong family name and I was excited about the prospects here, Tamara and I ended up having what was probably the most controlled sex marathon of my entire life, that girl is one hell of a control freak and For some strange reason her freakyness excited me, well I was until I remembered Yinka.

Throughout the flight to Abuja, I kept playing how all this was going to go over in my head. I wanted to marry Tamara Amadi. I’m pushing thirty and a player is expected to settle down. But I fancied Yinka, a lot. She was that ride or die, the fall back girl. I could be my real self; she believed whatever I told her.  When I saw her at the terminal, my heart sank. She’d taken care of herself in my absence and looked even better. I gave her a hug and kissed her. She still felt as good as she did all that time ago. I missed my sidepiece. As we drove back to her place, I made the decision; I was going to keep them both. Yinka would understand why I have to marry Tamara. It’s just business, an investment in the future. And Tamara shuttles between Lagos and London, she’d have no business in Abuja and they would never meet. I just had to break the news gently to Yinks. We had dinner, and she slipped into lingerie, looking all shades of hot. Damn. I have to give myself a pat on the back. When I met her, shorty was bad but now, after me, she’d become evil. We cuddled up on her couch watching TV and then I stroked her hair the way I knew she liked and told her I loved her over and over again, trying more to convince myself than anything. I told her the universe was bent on keeping us and our love apart and that I had to marry someone my dad insists on. I told her it was political and that I was even going to divorce her in a year. I thought that shit would show my commitment. I really didn’t know this girl because what she did next stunned me. She asked me to leave. She’d grown more dependent since our split and I just realized that now. She said something about me causing her unending pain and all that but I was more surprised than hurt really. I figured the best way to get her to calm down was to not put up a fight and just go calmly, at least for now so I left.

I hung around in Abuja for a while after that night. I had a few distractions in the city and I had them visit me. I wasn’t about to be out about town with other women and run into Yinka, or worse her cheer team; Sadia and Molly. I called her, casually at first but I was now pissed off because she refused my calls and didn’t answer my texts. Who did she think she was? I was legit livid. This was my woman. She had no right. I had to cool off so I decided to hit the club scene. Oshos was in town so I knew it was about to be lit. We decided to hit up club 440. It was legendary for rave parties and some amazing company. It was a Friday, I had the squad with me and we were about to fuck Abuja up. Forget Yinka, Tamara, politics, heck even the playmaker Tambuyi Peters. I just wanted to chill out. It was all good for the first couple of hours. We had the bottles and the groupies. The VIP section was off limits so things got freaky quick. As I stepped out, I could hear Shayne Ward. This DJ was a mess. Who  listens to shayne ward up in the club? Bruh, I saw Yinka making out with a dude, on the dance floor, to freaking Shayne Ward. I was gone…
As we drove away from 440, all I could do was punch my fists into the dash, softly at first but then harder and harder until Oshos had to smack some sense into the back of my head. It was his Range Rover after all. He had yanked me out the club through the back door when I came back into VIP and started smashing stuff. On our way out, he saw Yinka and immediately coded what was up. I knew he lifted weights but I never knew I was light as fuck. He threw me over his shoulder and made for the back exit. He later says he didn’t realize he had done that but he had to because making a scene would go viral and no politician survives scandal, especially over a woman. Back at the hotel, I was haunted by what I saw. My sidepiece was being fondled by another man who would most likely smash this night. Another man was going to come inside my house, my woman. Heck no! And then it hit me, I was being an asshole. I’ve seen more pussy since I’ve been with Yinks than I did before I met her. I was the one who made her share with other women. Why was I even mad? I had Tamara whom I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave now. This was just one girl, a girl I fancied at best. Why was I tripping? I spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. I kept picturing her with Mr. Hotshot the Fondler in various positions and in different places going at it. He looked like a freak, the fucker, and she was always so eager during sex. He’d do the most and she’d like it. That was it. I couldn’t take it. Sure I was a fuck-up but all those women meant nothing to me. Yinks does. I loved her, I love her. Aww fuck. I do love her but I like to get my dick wet. Who doesn’t? That didn’t give another man the right to claim my woman. Call me chauvinist but I love her and not the others. That should count for something, right?

I made my way back to her place around 5am. I saw his car parked outside and I smashed my fists into the steering wheel. They were bruising and probably grumbling from all the assault they’d endured tonight.  He was in her house, in her bed, right now. I was mad, but Oshos’ sentiments came to mind in that instant. If I went in there, I would kill that bastard, go to jail and probably die in there. I had to restrain myself, so I spent the worst two hours of my life waiting outside my girlfriend’s house while another man plowed her. At about 7am, I got out of my car and made for her front door. Fuck it; I guess I was going to jail. I felt tears streaming down my face. I knew this was real, what I feel for Yinka. I’ve never shed a tear for a woman before, not even for Grace in JS 2 who was then ‘the love of my life’ but let Akpan touch her under her desk. As I got to her door, it opened and out comes the guy. He was faceless to me, on purpose because if I made out a face, I would fuck it up. He steered clear, planted his goodbye kiss and took off. Yinka looked like a different woman. She never looked like this after sex with me. I had to cut this shit down now. It took a mix of sincerity and my A game or something in between but I felt that joy of success a few minutes later when she began to cry as I had my head down in her thighs half-feigning wails.

#Rayofhope 😚😚😚

Chronicles of Miss Allen’s love life (part 4)


    It was even more heart-wrenching than I had anticipated for Chukwudi. Tuvi clearly aware that he was to stay clear of the ensuing drama gave me a hushed peck on the cheek before walking to his car. Chukwudi never took his gaze off me, his eyes smoky with betrayal, his look of utter dejection and horror. I left him at the door and walked back in to sit on the couch. I couldn’t say a word. There was no denying it. I was with another man last night. That man, the one that just walked past him. He had come to tell me that he called off the wedding and challenged his father to either accept me or lose him. He was in love with me and begged me to take him back now with more urgency than I’d even seen before. I was triumphantly pleased. He didn’t think I’d live without him? You’re wrong, mister. Many want what you clearly don’t cherish.  Burying his head in my lap as his tears snowballed into wails. Chukwudi was crumpled, shaken to his core. I’d never seen him like this, passionate about me. This was real. His feelings were real. I started to cry too.



I wanted to see her again. I had to see her again. It’s funny. She looked a mess that day at the pharmacy. I could tell she had a wild night and tried to cover it up with a morning shower and makeup. I empathized with her haven been a victim of wild nights myself and when the pharmacist whom I thought was being slow for no reason told her she was out of aspirin, I offered Ibuprofen as a suggestion. In fact, I blurted it out. There was something cute about her dejection. I just wanted to reach out, give her a hug and tease the mess out of her like an old pal would. She introduced herself visibly checking me out but was a bit self-conscious that she didn’t notice I didn’t give her my name. We had the slight casual banter as we waited on the pharmacist. I could tell she wasn’t fully sober yet but her voice was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. Damn! I offered to pay for her order just to keep her around. She was running late though so we exchanged numbers. I’m horrible with follow-through so I knew right there and then this was it for me and Ms. Wild Nights even though I promised to call her.

When I got to the gym, I found out that I had her ibuprofen prescription. I laughed. This had to be some kind of cosmic play. Good one, universe. I texted her on the obvious slip-up since I know for people who work, texts are the best way to get their attention at their convenience. That’s how it is at my practice. She texted back and we got talking. I found out she hated working out, loved my music preferences and worked as a publishing editor. I did tell her I was one of the youngest pediatricians in Abuja haven graduated from Howard Medical School and done my residency at Saint Joseph’s in Chicago. The thing that struck me about her was that she could take a joke and run with it. We spent some time goofing around on how inept the pharmacist was and what would have happened if we hadn’t exchanged numbers. She said she would have had to bulk up on my protein shake. I found that hilarious and yet highly believable. We agreed to lunch the next day and she gave me the address to her office. She looked even better then.
It was a cool week with Ms. Wild Nights. I found out she was single and her ex like mine was real shitty. We decided to go out Friday night. I suggested #440, a club a pal of mine manages. She knew the place and it was a go. When I saw her that night, as she got out the cab it was like a ton of bricks dropped on me. I was winded man. I mean, she had a killer body, just the way I like my women but her eyes, her eyes lit up when she saw me and she smiled. I was just gone with that smile. She already had me at offering to bulk up on my shake. This was just overkill. We then got in and had shots, lots of them. I have to admit, she held her liquor very well, even bested me; then we danced, first to House, then EDM. The DJ decided to slow things down with old school Shayne Ward. As we closed in on each other, I noticed she’d become sad but was trying to fight it. Obviously, this song had history for her and all I wanted to do was kiss her. She beat me to it, and I thanked her, with fervor pulling her close to me. We left #440 not long after. She made to get a cab but I had to take her home. I wasn’t going to let her out alone on the streets of Abuja this late.

On the drive, I have to admit, I was anxious. I had become weary of women following Grace’s betrayal. And though I felt a strong connection to this woman, two things troubled me. Did she feel the same? Was this going too fast? I’d tried the casual sex thing back in the States. They were never really connecting encounters and I hated that emptiness, not immediately but after a while. Grace was the last straw. She was the one I invested emotion in and connected with before and after sex. She had other plans though, plans that didn’t involve me. But here I was with a beautiful woman who clearly knew how to have fun and was cool. I was going to let the night just play out. No need to over-analyze. We got to her apartment and she invited me in.

She had a nice ass. I don’t know man; my apprehensions were gone here and now. I was gonna fuck this girl. I just had to be sure she wanted it too so I held her and kissed her neck…

I woke an hour before she did. She was as beautiful now as she was at the club. I got up and looked around her place. It was a pretty decent apartment. She loved reading novels, I could tell as she had books all over the place. Baldacci wasn’t bad. I then saw a picture framed on the wall. She was cuddled up to a man. He looked bougie, probably the son of a politician. I knew this was the ex. Why did she still have his picture up? She probably hadn’t let go. That was never a good sign. I knew I had to leave. This was what it was, a good time for both of us; nothing more. I had to keep it that way. I went back to the room, put on my clothes and went to get a drink of water from the kitchen faucet. I heard movement in the bedroom so I figured she was up. I went to say goodbye. She was staring at the ceiling and was laid back in bed when I walked in. I must have startled her as she reacted oddly on seeing me still around.  I kissed her on the head and told her I was heading out. She got out of bed to see me off and as she walked naked to grab a shirt, I once again gazed upon the Amazon goddess I could not possess. It sucked man. At the door, we hugged and by default I promised I’d call her later, a remark I regretted making as soon as the words left my mouth. She muttered something incoherent in reply. She then opened the door and there stood the ex, disheveled and almost irate. As soon as he saw me, his countenance changed. I’d never seen a man go from 100 to 0 that quick. It was pitiful but I still felt he was a bitch for fucking Yinka over. Common sense told me to extricate myself from this situation so I gave her a kiss on the cheek and made for my car without saying a word to the guy. I could hear them go inside and shut the door behind them.

As I approached my car, I ran the events of the past five days in my head. I hadn’t been as happy recently as I had been these past five days. Grace crushed the last fiber of my being when she left me in the States for a woman and since I got back to Abuja, it had been one empty connection after another. But with Yinka, this was different, this was not just sex. I shared great vibes with that girl, even in that short span of time and now the undeserving ex was going to swoop back in? Fuck no; I said to myself as I walked back to her apartment, I want that woman…

P.s Raymond rocks  😍😍😍

Chronicles of miss Allen’s love life (part 3)



We got to my apartment in about ten minutes, but it seemed longer . I could tell He was as anxious, but not as nervous as I was, I hadn’t thought of what my reaction would be the next morning, I didn’t even want to at that moment. I ushered him into my apartment, he walked behind me, I could tell he was observing my petit behind as i intentionally swung it and bent down in front of him trying to lock the door to the main entrance. He grabbed my waist from behind, his warm breath on my skin, as he kissed my neck, I stood there; still in shock and at the same time wanting more, he put my back on the door, making me face him, his body so close to mine, he held my chin up, eyes burning with passion. His eyes looked really beautiful, his tongue teasing my bottom lip, then my jaw, he worked his way down to my neck. First licking, then bitting, I felt it again, the shiver ran through my spine.  Yes! He was doing it right, he lifted me off the floor, my leg’s crossed round his hip, his hand supporting me, he started to kiss me, his tongue exploring and stroking the inside of my mouth,he took my lower lip in between his lips, he tasted like vodka and pleasure. I didn’t hesitate to respond to his kiss, my hands stroking his kinky hair as I savored our hungry yet intriguing moment. His free hand, fixed on my behind. I unlocked my legs and got on my feet, my dress already rolled up to my waist, revealing my newly aquired red lasenza Lacey half panties. I held his hand as I ushered him into my bedroom, I took my stiletto’s off, making me about 4 inches shorter. I turned to face him, pulled him closer and reached for his tee shirt slowly taking it off as he stood there,his eyes fixed on me,  observing my every move. I unbuckled his belt and reached for his zipper, he held my hand, looking straight into my eyes,my bedroom light wasn’t doing me any favour at that time, good lord his eyes looked beautiful. He peeled off my dress and ushered me to the bed, there i was like an obedient grade one pupil. My breast bare in front of him, his eyes wide from excitement. He gently placed me on the bed and got on top of me, his fingers stroking my hair just the way i loved it, then planted petal kisses on my 36dd’s, his fingers running through them slowly, intentionally avoiding my nipples, his mouth finding my right breast, His tongue exploring every inch of my nipple slightly grazing them with his teeth, assisting himself with his free hand, while his other hand focused mainly on fundling my other breast, there i was embracing that familiar feeling of pleasure and at the same time bitting my lip, trying really hard not to let out a loud moan. He switched sides, cupped my other breast,fundled it for a bit before putting it back in his warm mouth, he went on to kiss my abdomen then all the way to the dampish lace crotch of my panties, which was on the floor in no time, then he spread my legs wide, lowered his head, teasing my tighs with the tip of his fingers, the feeling was almost unrecognized, the thought of Mr hot hotshot kissing me down there was unsettling, l abruptly closed my tighs, like an inexperienced teenager. He looked up at me, and let out a slight laugh, he put my legs back in place more firm pinning them down like there was an invincible rope holding them in place, then he spread my legs wide, he slowly slid in one finger then another inside of me, there was an unfamiliar pain, i let out a slight moan as my body embraced the once familiar feeling, his fingers went in and out of me , then I felt the warmth of his breath between my thighs, he kissed me round my left tigh, then without hesitation he gave my Virginia a slow surface lick. My breathing got faster, he looked up at me then buried his head back in, as his tongue carefully stroked my clit. He could tell I was ready to have him inside of me, my wants climaxing, he stoped  and fished out a condom from his pocket,got on his feet and took off his jean, there was a clear view of his beautifully errect penis, it looked really edible, with strings of pubic hair surrounding it, he slid the condom on and without hesitation got back on the bed, positiond himself perfectly above me, it was a different type of missionary position, his entire body weight was on me, we where breathing as one, he then moved forward so that the base of his penis was in direct contact with my clitoris, my legs wrapped firmly across his thighs and then he was inside me, I felt a sting of guilt as my body absorbed his wholeness inside of me. We moved together in a rhythmic motion. My fingers deep in his back as he got faster, he began to talk dirty, words like ( that’s right baby, good girl and the most unsettling was ‘ who’s your daddy) Chukwudi never used to talk dirty to me. I scowled at him in my head occasionally. I snapped out of my stray thoughts and continued to savior my moment with mr hotshot, he got faster, I could feel the chill all over my body, my legs got shaky, I felt every ounce of fulfilment, my moaning got louder, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the best clitorial stimulation of my life,I couldn’t hold it any longer, I was ready and in a nano second  I combust and almost immediately and he followed suit, he let out a slight moan of satisfaction as we both tried to catch our breath
   I woke up feeling rather refreshed the next morning, Mr hotshot wasn’t in bed with me his clothes weren’t on the floor either, I silently prayed he was gone. I lay in bed reminiscing all that happened the previous night. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Mr hotshot talking dirty to me. He walked into the room interupting my review, I felt a little bit disappointed and at the same time excited, he was set to leave. He kissed me on the head, I got out of bed, put on my oversized tee shirt, my hair frizzy from last nights marathon.we found our way to my living room. We hugged and he promised to call me later that day, I secretly prayed he didn’t. As i  opened the door, all I was capable of was freezing like I’d just seen a ghost, or worse, my heart beating faster than normal. It was Chukwudi! What was he doing at my house?

Chronicle of Miss Allen’s love life (part 2)


image   It had been about two weeks since Chukwudi told me he was getting married to his arranged bride. He had left over fifty messages and up to a thousand missed calls on my phone since that night. I ended up slamming my phone one night when he wouldn’t stop calling. I still couldn’t cry, I guess the pain was too much for my tears to bear. I was cold and I didn’t care about the world. Nothing seemed to comfort me, I didn’t want to talk to Sadia nor Molly, all they wanted to do was console me, and I didn’t want that. For some strange reason i began to feel like the pain and heart ache was a now a part of me, i got tired of  fighting it, fighting it was just to exhausting. Unlike the past when i would channel all my energy towards work, I didn’t feel like my consolation was spending hours and hours at work, I didn’t even want to be at work, All I wanted to do was get laid by a smart, good looking man. I was in desperate need of a one night stand, since chukwudi couldn’t fulfill my needs before he did what he knew how to do best (cause me immense pain). I knew i deserved to get laid, it had been what? Nearly two years since i last had sex. I wanted a total stranger, well not some drunk guy at the club, or some freak on a dating website or some guy from work(yes! I admit I’m a very picky person). I needed someone I could relate too and have the perfect one night stand with, someone I could look at the next morning and give myself a trophy for a job well done, So I began my hunt. I dressed really spicy to the supermarket, looked my best to work, I even went to parks and weekend get hangouts that I dread so much. Who knew finding the perfect one night stand would be exhausting. I was really tempted to open an account on a fancy dating site; then it happened.
It was on a Thursday morning, I’d been drinking the previous night, well it had been more of an every night thing since Chukwudi. I’d overslept and to crown it up; I woke up with a nasty hangover, which rarely happened. I had an important meeting at work in which i was supposed to represent my boss, so rain checking was out of the question. I was already about an hour behind schedule. I rushed into the shower, got dressed and left the house in under twenty minutes. The one sided migraine wouldn’t stop, and it was beginning to get on my nerves. So I decided to stop by a pharmacy on my way to work. The attendant was annoyingly slow or maybe it was just me and my bad mood thinking so. I’d requested for a sachet of Aspirin, and after what seemed like a thousand years she returned to tell me they where out of Aspirin. ‘ you could use Ibuprofen too, it is quite similar to Aspirin’ I looked in the direction of the owner of masculine voice on my left side. Through my over sized glasses I saw him, it was him! I had found my perfect one night stand candidate, I immediately scanned through his finger for a wedding band, he had none,in my head I jumped up and down like a five year old. I smiled at him and managed an apologetic ‘thank you’. I requested for the Ibuprofen and the attendant dashed away to get it. I stretched my hands trying to be as flirty as I could, and luckily for me I had enough alcohol in my system to boost my confidence. Thanks again, I’m ibiyinka I said casually. He smiled and shook me back. I felt a chill rush through my spine as our hands touched. He looked really edible in the blue fitted pant trouser and white long sleeve shirt he wore. His hair low and kinky, he was rather tall, hot caramel skin and from the frame of his shoulder i could tell he was really fit. His beauty; just irresistible. I secretly wish I had time to do my full facial make up that morning, at least all the long hours i spent learning how to make myself up would have paid off. There was just something intriguing about him ( maybe it was the tickle between my legs speaking). We engaged in friendly chit chat until the attendant returned with our order, she handed us our individual bags, he volunteered to pay but my pride won’t allow it.  We both set for the door and left the pharmacy. He had the whole courteous lady’s first attitude and I liked that he had manners. I told him I had to rush to work, we exchanged numbers and promised to talk later. I rushed in my car and drove to work. I had a busy day at work and didn’t even have time to use the medication, the irritating headache started again at night, I reached for the bag of ibuprofen only to find out that the clumsy attendant had given me some kind of protein shake and dietary supplement instead. In the midst of my anger, my pain in the ass migraine, and rumbling tummy; it occurred to me that the clumsy attendant had given me Mr hotshots purchase. I also realized I didn’t get his name earlier ( what is it with me and introductions). Anyway I had a reason to call him now, I reached for my phone for the first time all day. There were couple of missed calls and a message. The message was from Mr hotshot.’ hello Ibiyinka… Trust you had a good day, by the way i Guess the attendant switched our orders. Sorry about that, be good… Tuvi. So Mr hotshots name wasn’t so bad after all ‘Tuvi’. He saved me from having to ask him myself.   I didn’t hesitate to text back, we got talking and to my surprise Mr hotshot was a 28 year old know it all medical doctor, he loved working out, loved reading, listened to Tracy Chapman, Lupe Fiasco and Asa. The only thing we had in common was his taste in music, I dread working out, and I am a senior editor at a publishing
company. At the end of our two hour texting spree I had summed up Mr Hotshot’s personality. He was an ambitious, ego filled, successful and at the same time goofy 28 year old. I just had to hi five myself for a job well done. We decided to use lunch as an excuse to meet up the next day. We met for lunch at a random restaurant not far from my office.  Mr hotshot looked even more yummy at lunch, he wore a black pant trouser and a sky blue cotton short sleeve shirt. My low V neck wrap dress was more than perfect for the occasion, and It was the perfect way to effortlessly flaunt my 36dd’s and yes! I had time to perfect my make up for my date. Mr hotshot wasn’t that bad after all, I couldn’t have hoped for someone else to be my perfect one night stand candidate. Mr hotshot and I got more comfortable around each other over the next three days, our conversations went from casual, to kinky and flirty. we were both single heartbroken people. Well i didn’t know what he was in need of, but i knew i was in desperate need of some back arching sex. We decided to go clubbing that Friday at club #440. After spending hours trying to figure out what to wear, i finally settled for my black low cut v neck dress and red stilettos. We agreed to meet at the club. So i got a cab to drop me off. Mr hotshot looked different that night, in his ripped jean trousers and white polo shirt. I kicked off my night with a double shot of Virgin Peach,  then we had shots, I made sure I had enough to boost my confidence and self esteem ( diary of an inexperienced celibate woman) Mr hotshot was a good dancer, his hands on my hip,as i whined and twirled on the dance floor. Thanks to my signature mini V neck body con dress, I could once again flaunt my 36dd’s and my petite behind. I constantly reminded myself to flirt with him, making eye contact was a necessity at that point. I was feeling rather confident, The DJ suddenly decided to play a slow jam for ‘ the love birds in the house’ I think we slow danced to Sean Words Breathless. For the first time since I met Mr hotshot I was nervous, that moment brought back memories, memories I wish I could relive, memories I wish I could forget. I wasn’t going to let Nostalgia ruin my night. His eyes were filled with want as he looked at me and smiled, I couldn’t dare to hold his gaze, my confidence was suddenly ninety percent low,i reached for his lip and kissed him. I could tell he wanted it, i was in control and i loved it. for a moment I was hesitant, but I didn’t want him having second thoughts so I went for it. His lips surprisingly soft, his kiss was more wild and spontaneous,he grabbed my behind as he went on to savor the taste of my tongue, I was surprised for a nano second, but for some reason I seemed to get more turned on. His kiss was nothing like chukwudi’s slow subtle passionate kiss. We danced for a while and then decided to call it a night.  He volunteered to take me home.  That was it, the moment I and the tickle between my legs had been looking forward to all week long. To have Mr hotshot behind closed doors. Nothing was going to ruin it. Not even the forces could dare to be against me…