“Remove ya drouse na.” Ibrahim scowled as he returned from checking to see if the coast was clear. The sight of her micro-mini boxer shorts had annoyed and excited him at the same time. He eyes roamed over the tight swell of her pubic before scanning upwards to her bare chest, where the gravity-defying swell of her breasts—teasingly hidden behind spread fingers—stared at him. He shivered at the thought of what he was about to do and felt the expanding turgidity in his middle threatening again to burst his boxers.
Pulling off and casting aside his long gown with a fluid motion, he fell on her with a vengeance that must have come from a dark part of his genes. His hungrily lapped at her breasts while his teeth intermittently nipped on her fingers, forcing her to pull them away and expose hardening nipples to his moist mouth.
She gasped as his tongue found her nipple.The hotness of it must be sending jolts of electricity towards her middle, he thought.
She was about to explode and he knew it. He also knew she might try to stop him before he got her to that point of no return; the very one she has been wanting for months now. At least her secretive looks and fluttering eyes told him so.
It must have taken all her strength, but as his fingers fluttered across her belly, heading downwards, to that slit and the knob that may well shatter her senses, she place her hands on his shoulder and pushed him back, gently, yet with enough force to hold him off.
“Wait now…wait first?” she said, hyperventilating.
Ibrahim was almost past caring. He wanted her and all his body, mind and soul knew that and proclaimed it.
His ignored her, his hand continued travelling; his ears heard her from far away, as such made no sense of what she was saying. For him, all that existed was the lithe body beneath him and the echo of the need he could feel in it.
He removed his mouth from her left nipple, only to replace it with his fingers and to capture her full lips in a savage kiss that did more than silence her protests.
His moved across her, readjusting his body to grant him more freedom to manoeuvre, to reach more places, to touch, kiss, and…Suck. His fingers stopped heading towards her middle, knowing she wasn’t far gone enough to allow him full access. Testing, he moved it down, and withdrew it fast when she tensed, only to move it down again and again, each time going lower and closer to his target.
When his fingers finally found their intended target, it wasn’t on their own accord. Her hands had moved, as if on their own volition, grabbed his middle finger and slide it to herself. Once, twice, repeatedly, her hand worked his fingers. She squirmed, she arched, she moaned and she cried.
Strangely, he screams seemed so much like the sound of a car horn. He must remember to ask her about that later, he thought.
He tried to pull his hands back, to take control of the situation, but her hold was vice-like. He discovered he was no longer on top of her. She was still on her back, but he was lying on his side, his left hand captured between her tights. Her moans reached into his head, he made to roll unto her again, but she chose that moment to let go of his hands and straddled him. His penis replaced his finger as she grasped the shaft and used it in ways he never thought possible.
He also never thought it possible that he would feel that much sensation from having his penis rubbed vigorously around the lip of a female’s vagina. It sure did feel good, enough to be mistaken for the real thing, but even though his eyes were clinched tight, he knew he had not penetrated her. She did not allow that, as she made sure to stay far away enough. Attempts by him to plunge into her core proved impossible on a consensual level.
He felt the deep throbbing in his member increasing in intensity. He could have stopped it had he control of the situation, but she was in charge and the sudden arching of his pelvis was met with more vigorous rubbings. As his hot seed sprouted all over, she screamed—that car horn-like scream, which she sustained for longer than he thought a human lung could.
His eyes still tightly clinched, Ibrahim heard her call his name. The voice again sounded from far away, not from above or beside him on the mattress.
He struggled to open his eyes. The light was brighter than it was moments before and he had to raise his palm as some kind of shield. It was with shock that he recognised his surroundings. The fact that he was outside the security house that doubled as his apartment, lying full length on the camp bed that served as his seat, disoriented him. Slowly, as he began to notice a figure in front of him, reality dawned. So na dream I bin dey dream so? He thought as he made to sit up.
The figure in front of him was Zainab, the girl of his fantasy, the love he would never claim. She stood there, hands on hips, fully clothed with school bag slung low on one shoulder, looking at him with disgust.
He frowned, wondering why she should be this mad at him for sleeping in the afternoon. Perhaps them don dey horn since, he mused.
She looked down at his middle, briefly, the disgust in her face as clear as daylight. His eyes followed the path hers had taken.
Shame washed over him in cold torrents as the real story told itself. He jumped up.
He turned and ran into the security house, past the mattress that had been prominent during his sensual daydream. His fingers were sticky with cum as he turned on the shower knowing the water can never begin to wash away his shame.
The car horn blew from outside again and he hurried outside to see her locking the gate behind her mother’s car. He stood there not much bothered by the admonishing for sleeping on duty that he was sure to get from madam, but wondering how she would see him now.
“Ibrahim, come here,” her mother called angrily as she ushered her younger children ahead of her towards the house.
Again, his heart did not fly, as it would have on other days, for already it was filled with sadness. A sadness that the dark look Zainab gave him as she turned to follow her mother deepened.
He did not want to speculate on how much she saw, he was sure she saw enough: He with his penis hanging out and his hands spattered with semen. He felt very guilty.
What if she knew I have been making love to her in my dreams for months now, he thought as he shook his head sadly and went to answer a summon he felt was less weighty.
By Fred Chiagozie Nwonwu.
Fred Chiagozie Nwonwu is a writer of fiction and non fiction.