The journey home that afternoon was quite funny; neither of us said a word to each other, each lost in his thought. I knew what I was thinking about, what I was playing in my head, but wondered what was going through Bobby’s mind; I could wager my right arm that it wasn’t something decent; judging from my own rotten thoughts, I knew Bobby could only be worse; the young man had no good in him. I was beginning to feel hot between my thighs, my member was rock rigid, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have my fantasy brought to life. My nerves tingling, heartbeat thumping faster; oh god! Let not this full package pass me by.
“Boy, wetin dey worry you?”
Bobby’s voice brought me to.
“How do you mean?” I asked confused. He took his eyes down to my bulged zipper. I was in no way embarrassed; I almost burst open with laughter.
“guy, I was just imagining tomorrow, Mrs. Angela...and...”
What Bobby spat next got me shocked.
“so you were imaging humping her? Instead of thinking about what to do with the money she promised to give. i am thinking of what and what to buy and...”
What? Bobby, thinking about money and not sex? Something must be wrong.
“Wait o, you were not imagining sex with Aisha?” I asked, trying to be sure I was not dreaming.
“oh boy! I will have all the time in the world to think about that when we get home...”
Yes! I knew I wasn’t the only perverted soul of us two.
“...not about sex with her o, but the outcome of the activity. Whether na for head the soldiers go shoot me abi na for chest.”
Another silent moment as I chew on his words.
“You don forget say na general wife be dat?” he added. It sounded more like lamentation than a question to me; I could sense the regret in his voice. We argued on the topic for a long time. We killed the topic the minute we walked into the compound; one of our neighbor was seated outside, lacing his football boot; Matty B. aka ‘quickfeet’, well known by everybody in the neighborhood for his fast dribbling skills, hence the name ‘Matty quickfeet’. Bobby and I took the chair beside him, we were so tired and the rest was very much needed.
“You breathe like a fat cow mehn.” Matty Quickfeet said to me with irritation in his voice. We rate him number one when it comes to getting people pissed, to respond to his remarks would be your undoing. So I hope you understand now the reason behind my silence. Bobby hated that Matty Quickfeet could say just about anything and get away with it; he rose to my defense.
“For two of una who dey breathe like cow? You go just dey yab anybody anyhow wey you like. You wey go play just ordinary ninety minutes for that small field dey breathe like person wey wan vomit him throat...” my laughs were beginning to build up, not because of Bobby’s words though. Matty was done tying the laces, he remained silent.”
“...you know wetin we do today? Na work we just dey come back from...” Bobby continued.
“Even if him breathe like cow na because him do work wey pass you, from eleven ‘o’ clock reach now na him he don dey ...”
Matty quickfeet picked up his football on the ground, walked towards the open gate and looked over his shoulder at Bobby.
“mattyquickfeet@gmail.com, please email me the rest.” With that, he walked out of the compound. I couldn’t stop laughing. Bobby was red with rage, he was trying to defend me, and there I was, laughing my guts out at him. He stared at me for a long time.
“Ah ah! Na wetin? You wan beat me?” I asked him with more laughter. Bobby stood up and walked into our room...did I not follow behind him with my laughter?
That night, some minutes to twelve, Bobby and I lay awake; we talked on the day’s work at the supermarket and then on our expectation the next day, on the possibilities of it playing out the way we had thought them.
“I bin think say you no wan run married woman parole?” Bobby teased me. Truly, we have talked about dating married women several times, but I have always declines the proposal. Bobby had gone on without me, comes back every time to complain about how broke the women he has been banging were.
“At times e go be me like say make I even pay them self. I wonder how woman wey no get money go take wan be sugar mummy.” He would joke.
Slowly, sleep came upon us. Bobby had joked about how he would make Aisha moan in hausa.
“...she go dey say, kai, kai, kai yowai!” we did laugh a great deal on that one.
Few minutes into sleep, I had the most erotic dream of my life that I woke up with wet dream. Madam Angela had come into our room in the middle of the night, naked, just like me. Her round and firm breasts stared me in the face, her nipples as big as the tip of a coca cola bottle; I couldn’t wait to have them fill my mouth. And down below, her mound...shaved clean. I have never seen anything this edible my entire life. And then she started to move her waist slowly, drawing closer with each movement...my member stiffly upright without shame, defying gravity. She sat on the couch and slowly spread her legs wide apart to reveal the pathway to hell; oh sweet hell! Seconds later, I stood inches away before her, my member almost poking her lips apart. I moved my hip forward to thrust in and...
“Guy, wake up!” Bobby shook me to wake. Damn it! Just when I was...
“God! no! no!” I muttered to myself. I must get back to sleep. I shut my eyes, tried to get the last picture of what I was dreaming about, to continue from where I stopped...nothing! I stared at Bobby with anger in my eyes and murder on my mind.
“But I no tell you say make you wake me up na, Bobby.” I lamented angrily. Words cannot explain the pain and anger swelling in me at that moment, all because my dream was cut short in its prime. Bobby couldn’t figure out the reason behind my reaction, and I had no intention of telling him.
I couldn’t stop grumbling; Bobby had denied me something wonderful and he didn’t even know it, not even the slightest idea. We went out for our normal early morning jogging, came back sweaty and soaked to our shirts to join the rest of the guys at the backyard to push weights. Bobby had never liked the idea of suffering in the name of weight lifting and had never fancied muscles and all that comes with it; but I was surprised when he got on the bench; he did not do badly at all for a starter. Matty quickfeet never tried to mount the bench, all he did was distract the boys with his premiership argument;
“There is no way Manchester united is winning the league this time around, not with the way they have been playing lately.”
I never cared to follow the league, but had to oppose matty just because every other person did. I hung the weight and got off the bench for Bobby to go in next. Matty turned to Bobby...
“Your paddy wey no dey watch soccer dey follow these guys argue with me. Shey you no watch last week game? Common Everton wan kill man.u. if e no be refree wey dey bias. Even Rooney no dey fit plus...”
Bobby burst into laughter, we were all confused at his insane act, but he laughed on.
“Quickfeet.” Bobby called.
“Yeah?” came the response.
“Bobby@yahoo.com, email me the rest of the story.” We all went wild with laughter; that was revenge served hot. Bobby laid back and started to push on the weight like nothing happened. Even as I laughed, my mind was still playing around on the visit to Madam Angela. I had to quit gym early to keep the guys from noticing my hard on. In less than two hours, I would be with Madam Angela...silently, I prayed for the event in my dream to replay in real life.
Yours truthfully, Baron Chidalu.
Chidera Reginald .
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