Skip to main content

Mummy and Daddy

She knew the world before I did.
She had been in the game before me, hence it was only natural that she was the instructor.
She taught me that locking lips was more of an art than an activity, that women could pleasure women as much as men could. 
Through her, I learnt the primary areas of pleasure. 
We sneaked around from time to time to touch our body parts - breasts today, bums on other days, We enjoyed our company so much that our parents let us hang out as much as we wanted. 
No one could have suspected we were up to anything 'immoral'. 
There were no boys present.
We were brought up in the way of the Lord and no one ever left any 'adult' materials lying around, so from where would we learn such indecency?
We were kids and we were girls. 
What do little girls know about lesbianism?
It was unheard of. 
Daddy only suspected my older brothers' friends and long distance uncles and cousins.
Mummy eavesdropped on my home tutor and I whenever she was home and had our maid sit some meters away from us until after the home tutor left.
So how then could we have found out about pleasure?
All measures were put in place to inhibit our raging sexual urges.
But unfortunately for them, we found out about the basics.
Thank heavens. Just the basics.
We possessed the tools, so wasn't it natural that we experimented?
For instance, we knew that any sensational touch on our nipples made us roll our eyes back. So we tried all sorts to make sure our eyes stay at the back of our heads.
We once saw an erotic DSTV movie where a man used ice cubes on his lady's nipples...we tried it out and it was awesome! *Giggles*
It was fun and funny, although we never shared our amusement with any other soul. It was our own little secret, and joke.
The one thing we never did was touch our belows.
We never discovered the ultimate pleasure, just as we never set eyes the year after I clocked thirteen.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Trade by Barter

It started out as a conversation. I and my friend were discontented about our financial status. I talked about how pleasant it would be if I had ‘sufficient’ and steady income. She talked about how she could not bring herself to ask men for money. We talked about the Aristo Chics we knew that summed up enough courage to collect humongous amounts from their customers. God was listening to our conversation. He had to make a comedy out of it, so he provided me what Unilag girls would call ‘opportunity’. Later that day, I was buying yoghurt around Honours when a white jeep honked at me. I walked up to the car and saw that an old man (most likely older than my father) was the driver and only occupant of the vehicle. “Good afternoon Sir”. “Good afternoon my dear. Do you stay in this hostel?” “No Sir.” “Where do you stay?” “Moremi Sir.” I lied, “Is there any problem Sir?” “No my dear. I would just like to know you better. I want you to be my friend” I could not help but laug...

Frescoed Stories

Ok. I accept. I'm a liar. But really, that isn't the approriate and befitting description for me. I don't lie...Well,I just leave out a lot of "unnecesary" details. You could call it whatever you wanna, but I insist it's an essential trait of a realist (just to say sharp gurl/guy, I went to school noni :p ). Hey! You have had 6 "bedmates" and you are confusd about the current one (Mr. Right Now No.7)... You need advice,so your girlfriend(s) is the first link to clear thinking. In the course of explaining your predicament, it dawns on you that your girlfriend has made out with just 3 guys and has had sex with 1 (Jeez- Life must be a Bitch, Eh?)... You can't talk about this issue without relating it to your other escapades...therefore, a dilemma presents itself. Since you can't stop the story abruptly,you'ld have to: 1. Tell the truth, recounting your 'many' stories. You'ld watch the shock rise from her upper face to t...

Good Evening

I spent my evenings drinking too much. There was nothing else to do. My best friend lied too often and loneliness held my hand too tight as I lay on my bed moping at the roof of my empty room. I had to indulge myself. Make the evenings worthwhile. Get away from it all. The lies my friend told… the babbling of my parents… the pressure to be what I was not… the cheap men that wanted to a piece of me… ambition… I was too young for it all. I had to get away. One of these evenings cannot be erased from my memory. In ten years, twenty or sixty… It started out beautiful… I had had four little cups of Don Simon; they went down too quickly. Seven hard gulps. I liked to feel woozy quickly, laugh early and walk home late, right before the hard-hearted gateman locked the gate. As I walked towards the punch guy to get a fifth cup, a certain character walked up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder… I stared hard at the guy. He looked very familiar… “Yes?” “Hi.” He ...