The weirdest thing can be commonplace in Lagos. You’ve heard it before that the most beautiful girls are single. This is true most of the time. And was quite so with India, who on one day had reached the dimmest blue of her prolonged horny-tude.
Every where India looked, she saw penises.
All sizes.
Roll a dice, and the numbers might help you understand. She saw them – two penises – four – three – every where she looked.
She was in a fast car with her boyfriend, but he would never know how fiercely her nerves were raving. The word boyfriend might have been a bit of a stretch.
They met three months ago at a wedding.
He was cute, rich, and spoke fluently. When he made a move on her, she didn’t have to overthink it. She just needed someone to feel the lonely void in her heart and, well, her bed too.
She said yes.
The next day she realized rather quickly how he liked to talk big and explicit about sexual matters.
He was like any other over-pompous Lagos bred whose brain cells were nutted in his frigid scrotal sac.
This one even dared to call himself a sex god.
He talked about so much he wanted to do to her. He talked about how he could do magical things to her breasts; from sliding her nipples over his lower teeth – and flicking his tongue across the nipple while in motion – to teasing them sensually with ice.
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Then he would boast about how he could drive her to climax just by sucking her navel. He’d done it a hundred times, he would claim. The trick was to combine the pleasure. While sucking on her navel, he said, he would either grab her butts with his finger tips or gently fondle her breast in a way only he knew.
His greatest strength was down on the vagina. He was a clitster – a clitoris master.
He would make her beg for sex.
Tell me about it, she would ask him.
Why tell you when I can show you?
She would begin to yearn for him. Finally, someone who knew what to do to a woman. Her last boyfriend was not at all sensitive to her body. He would just go down to work like he was trying to brush her clean with his tongue, applying so much pressure that it always became painful.
But now that was history. Dawn has come.
When she eventually went to visit him, she surrendered her body and soul to this sex god before they hit the sheets. He had an adorable athletic physique.
He kissed her softly on the blade of her right ear. And then slid slowly to her to her neck where he bit her gently, sending tingles down her spine.
Her knees had buckled at this point.
He carefully removed her gown and unbuckled her bra.
She wore no pants.
Then he pushed her down on the bed, strutting toward her like Adonis.
He was quite the showman.
Now he kissed her some. And came to take her breasts.
Her nipples were keenly waiting. His words were resounding in her head.
Then she felt a sharp pain. He had bit her nipple too hard.
Maybe she was just too sensitive.
But it happened again.
Now she put her hand over his head, and guided him to her navel. Perhaps, they could sync around there.
Instead he skillfully bypassed her navel and went straight to her wet vagina.
Even better, she thought to herself. Then she closed her eyes as she spread her legs apart.
He opened his mouth, just a bit too much, with his tongue like a mini-towel, and wiped up her.
That felt good.
But then he spat on it, and quickly took it as a child might do with a piece of meat he wanted to swallow in a hurry. He brought everything to the party – tongue, lips and teeth – all at the same time. It was hurting her. And, worse, there was suddenly saliva all over the place.
Now she was no longer wet. But he had his face soaked in his own spit. He was brushing away, and grunting. It was like a gruesome chore. And this was the part where she was meant to be begging for sex.
She made a mental note to inspect her vagina after this.
After what seemed like a frustrating eternity, he rushed to his feet, removed his pair of boxers, and came right back over her.
He was swift about it. Now it was time for sex – the grand finale.
Then he began to pound away – very hard, very fast.
What troubled her instantly was that the pounding was all she felt. She wanted to ask him, “are you inside me?”
Suddenly, things went from bad to worse.
He came.
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She was frozen. This was a bad dream.
He slumped on her like a pig, panting like the Kenyan who narrowly missed the marathon gold medal.
The moment needed silence, and it came to her easily because she was in overwhelming shock.
When he got up, she quickly looked at his penis.
She had to.
And he didn’t have a penis. What he had was a weenie bieber. It was the smallest – no, tiniest – she’d ever seen.
Her heart sank into a torturous abyss.
Yet with the most unbelievable temerity she would never understand, he asked her, “how was that?”
She smiled calmly. It was all she could do.
As they got back in his fast car to drop her off, her nerves were raving.
Every where she looked, she saw penises.
All sizes.
Roll a dice, and the numbers might help you understand. She wanted them all – two penises – four – three – everyone she saw.
She’d never been more horny in her life. As she would later describe it, her vagina was beeping.
One thing was for sure. When she was back home, she’d call the first number her eyes find on her contact list.
It wouldn’t matter who he was. Or where she would find him in this Lagos.
She would find him.
She’d screw him to hell and back.
