Credit: Kwadwo Sheldon
Mike had a secret, a secret darker than his heart and he must protect it. Blood will be shed, lives will be lost but he was determined to do whatever it took. He opened his closet amidst confusion looking for something…
She sucked on his middle finger to avoid screaming as he ate her out…cunnilingus…isn’t that the word? She liked it…he liked it more. There were days he made jokes of having her on a plate for dinner, served with ketchup. The alarm went off and she hit it with her hand almost immediately. Time’s up but Kwame still can’t get his dick up. They’ve been doing this longer than she could remember, but she sure as hell remembered all their lovemaking ended in a BANG and tonight, history won’t be made. He walked out of the bed and she followed;
“This isn’t working out. What’s wrong with us?” Kwame asked putting on his boxer shorts.
Beauty was as confused as Kwame. She knew her body and if she didn’t cum tonight after all the licking and sucking, she’s sure to wake up with acne and severe pains in her left breast. Maybe she could use her knowledge of Kwame’s body to trash this out. She knew he’s six feet, wears shoe size 44 and it is evident in the size of his dick…maybe a myth of the feet size being pronounced on the size of one’s dick, whether true or false, Kwame confirmed this myth. What else did she know? She knew the trick to get him in the mood again and it was simple and nasty…she hated it but she would choose that over waking with acne and breast pains.
“Let’s start this over again” Beauty said lecherously as she ran to pin Kwame to the wall, pulled his boxers down and started eating his ass. It was his weakness and she knew exactly what she was doing to him with every single slurp. Yes! She was getting somewhere and so was his erection. He pushed her back on the bed and opened her legs wide. It was time for the strokes. His groin kept hitting her ass as he banged her with her legs raised to his shoulder. He pressed her boobs with his left hand and kept moving her waist to where it’s supposed to be whenever she pushed his abdomen from her. Soon it was over and they lay staring at the opposite walls.
“Kwame, this ass eating must stop. It is nasty”
“This relationship must stop. It is tiring” Kwame responded.
He got up and walked to the bathroom.
She wrapped a towel around her and sat on the bed. Kwame was the kind of guy who didn’t care whether you cum or not, he wouldn’t agree to a second round to save his life.
She raised her head to catch a glimpse of herself in the giant mirror. She hated how she had aged. She will be twenty-eight in less than seven hours but looked slightly above thirty-two. She had a successful career, a big house, fat bank accounts and anything a woman her age would need but a man. Yes, Kwame wasn’t hers…fine…he was hers…no wait…it got complicated like a relationship status on Facebook. Despite these changes, she still had that great smile and grace whenever she smiled.
She’s been unlucky with men all her life even at twenty-seven she still hoped and prayed for a miracle…a miracle in the form of a man who wouldn’t be an ass. A man who would man up enough to try out the challenge called loyalty, a man who wouldn’t walk to her one night after sex and say he’s not sure of what they share, a man who would respect, trust and be faithful to her like she’s always been to them. Her previous relationships were always shorter than a fun filled weekend. They ended before they begun.
Her first was Dela; the fine biker and dancer she had a one night stand with. Dela didn’t have anything to bring to the table apart from great sex which sometimes made her feel she could do more for him apart from fuelling his bike and constantly paying for his sex. How she was the last person to have heard of Dela’s wedding surprised her.
Then came James; James Ebo Dawson. He loved her to mention his full name. It gave him some sort of pride and self-esteem. They met at a mutual friend’s father’s funeral, just a few weeks after Dela’s bullshit. She tried to play cold but James was determined. He called and texted her than she breathed, sent Gifts regularly and showed up at the most awkward moments. She noticed something genuine about him…his smile, his eloquence, his sense of fashion and how blunt he was…and to the cherry on the cake; he was a lawyer, and to Beauty, nothing spelt sex than a smart man who dressed well and smelled great and won arguments for a living. James swore he loved Beauty, maybe he did…maybe not…maybe a scheme to get into her bed and now that it was all over, she realized it had been just another lust clothed in love. It never had been from her end. James was sweet and calm and gentle over the phone and now he was her addiction she couldn’t get rid of. She wished it all had ended with the chats and his smiles. All the interesting phone calls were replaced with missed calls to him and she read over their text trying to find out where she went wrong.
She vent her spleen in her old diary and wrote about her thoughts on men. “Men are dogs”. This cliché got outplayed in her writings. She wrote more on her idea about relationships which always ends with the man as a monster. Gradually , she grew to become a feminist on social media. The kind of extreme feminists who have been badly hurt and betrayed by men. Those feminists who did nothing about fighting for equal rights but would rather fight men in all their arguments but she wasn’t the ugly type.
Her final project at the School Of Performing Arts was a play she wrote and directed. She called it; “If Men Were Dogs”. It won the best play in her year group and got featured in a British Magazine. Even though she wrote all the filth about men, deep down her heart, she had a conviction that she needed a man in her life. Not because she was unhappy but she still knew how it felt to be touched at all the right places by a man.
And Kwame came into her life after they met at the coffee shop; he called just when she had forgotten about him.
“I forgot how I saved your name, I just figured it out” a male voice at the other end of the phone said.
She wasn’t sure who it was but she believed it was Kwame…the voice, she remembered how it sounded. How could she forget that voice that almost made her want to rip him off his pants and eat him right after the accident?
“My name is Kwame, the guy from the coffee shop. You might not remember me but…”
She cuts in “I remember you. Hello Kwame. I thought you got raptured. I never expected your call”.
“I usually wouldn’t have called”
“So why calling?”
“Can’t we talk about this over coffee?”
“Sure. Just promise there’d be no more accident”
They talked all night and subsequent nights. They had a couple of dates and Beauty started revising her thoughts on men. There are some great men out there, she wished she had met Kwame earlier. Their sex was the best even though Kwame had fetishes like ass eating and anal.
Beauty had grown a tough skin and nothing about men surprised her. That night, it was over a fine planned dinner at her apartment and Kwame broke the news to her. His wife and children were returning from Egypt in a week. He would want their relationship to be a secret. Beauty checked on her phone to make sure it wasn’t 1stApril. That was when she realized she’s been fucked…literally…she’s really been fucked. She felt cold and nervous and nauseous. The man she’s been going out with just broke up with her with the most stupid excuse of having a wife and children.
He looked sorry but she didn’t care if he ceased breathing. He hugged her so tight, she was visibly shaking. She had wanted to call Mimi and Naana; her best friends but it was a subject she wished to tell them personally and not over some stupid phone call. Kwame spoke to her and they came to terms. He wasn’t leaving her completely neither was she having him completely. He’d visit her regularly but not often as before, his attention was divided between his family and her. She didn’t know why she agreed to this eventhough she knew it was a stupid idea but she knew she loved him and felt she would eventually win him to her…stupid enough?
Kwame visited her as agreed and they spent time together and they made sure every single second was savored with the best sex and chats and wine until Kwame started making excuses for not showing up on certain days…certain weeks and now months with no phone calls or texts. Whenever he returned, she naïvely accepted his apologies and excuses, he climbed into her bed, fucked her and fucked her up.
Kwame came out of the bathroom and kissed Beauty from the back, she snapped out of her past and laid her head on Kwame’s chest, something she missed doing. He kissed her forehead and she hoped the next time this happened wouldn’t be after months. She held him so tight as he put the light off and all they could hear in the silence of the night was each other’s heartbeat and deep breath.
She woke the next morning to a note by the bed. It read;
“Last night was great. You always give me a home away from home. Sorry I can’t be here on your birthday. It’s my first son’s birthday too. Family needs me. Happy Birthday Beauty. Love; Kwame”
The last time he left a note, she saw him after three months and that was just last night. She wondered if sex was all she was good for. She picked up her phone and dialled Kwame’s number. It was switched off. She opened her text and smiled at all the birthday messages and wishes. She wasn’t ready to reply any, she will later in the night but all she needed now was a getaway, a getaway from all the horror of her experience with men, get drunk, high and wasted and probably a one night stand with a stranger she wouldn’t even mention her name to. All these seemed like a plan to her but only one person could make this happen, and she was a phone call away. She dialed a number. The caller picks up
“Happy Birthday bitch” a female voice answered.
Someone hit her neck with a club, she screamed and the phone dropped!
To be continued….
