At last, he slid out after what appeared like a long time. I waited for the tickling sensation that had set my body on fire to subside, wanting to lean over and hold him tightly. After sex, a man becomes like a piece of log unless I feel strongly for him. On this night, however, I craved to nestle in the arms of this stranger, a man I had felt nothing for less than an hour ago, but who now evoked something in me. It was something whose shape I could speculate, but I had not summoned enough confidence to name it. Very few concepts are more amorphous than that formless absurdity called love. For how else could I explain the sudden surge of intense longing for a man whose encounter, a short moment ago, had triggered terror in my soul?
First, he did not respond to my greeting after beckoning me into his vehicle. My second attempt at engaging him fell flat. I had said my name and hoped to hear something from him, just anything. From the bluish illumination on the vehicle’s dashboard, I saw him nod in a way that appeared more in tune with the rhythm of the music playing on the stereo than an acknowledgement of my presence.
There was a good reason I always wanted to engage. The tone of the voice said a lot about a man. Beyond the words, I tried to read their character from how they spoke, to discern humans from the beasts. Not that I could change the outcome, but it prepared me for what to expect and how to take it. Sometimes, I wonder which is better—to be surprised by a predicament or to know it ahead of time and suffer it mentally before confronting it in reality. My life had been an even blend of both, and I couldn’t say which was better. However, I still needed enough clues to predict the future, even if that future meant a few minutes away from the inescapable traps of the life I had chosen. Or rather, the cruel trap life had chosen for me.
Almost all the important decisions of my life ran counter to my wishes. They were mostly swim-or-sink choices, and when you’re in such situations, you lose agency in your choices. You yield to the capricious dictates of the universe and swim where the tide is bearable. The sensible thing to do is to get to safety first and decide which way to head. In my case, each riverbank of safety was soon menaced with so much danger that I had to continue swimming for my survival. It had been like what I once heard an elder in my village say: ‘If what is chasing you has not stopped, you don’t stop running.’ I had run into beasts, like the fat-headed young man who nearly beat me to pulp until I lied to him that my client, who was a big man at the National Security, knew where I was at every time. My only crime that night had been my insistence that I wouldn’t allow him in without a condom.
Before we began this night, the benevolent man had at first reminded me of the beast. He rejected the condom I offered him. My body ached with the memory of that dreadful encounter, and relief arrived when he produced his own pack of condoms.
‘Thank you,’ I sighed. ‘But I also have this.’ I held out a lubricant.
‘I don’t need it,’ he said, but I heard, I don’t need a lubricant to fuck an ashawo!
Those words from the fat-headed bastard still rang as clearly and loudly as the Catholic church bell in my village.
‘How were you born, natural birth or through a C-section?’ I had asked him.
‘Natural birth,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’
I didn’t answer. I had wanted to tell him that if his mother’s vagina, which granted passage to his head, wasn’t a storm drain, then mine was tight enough to require lubrication before penetration. But he had already demonstrated enough capacity for cruelty, so I kept my thoughts to myself. With a patch of saliva at the tip of his manhood, he revealed the sadist in him, and I sat in warm water for days afterwards.
That was what this strange man triggered when he rejected the lubricant. After we undressed, I knelt before him, grabbed him where it pleases most, and started to stroke while reaching for the tip with my tongue.
Comments
Sign in to comment.