Fixing My Generator

Fix my generator tigah

I heard a knock at my gate and went to check who it was. Since my Gateman took a leave of absence earlier in the week, I had been saddled with the responsibility of opening and closing my gate after myself. Thankfully, he would be back tomorrow.

“who’s there?” I asked as I got to the gate. Looking through the peephole hadn’t provided any answers as the good looking young man I saw bore no resemblance to anyone I knew.

“madam na me. I come repair your gen, na oga send me.”

Ah! So Chief had made good on his word, I thought, immediately opening the gate for the young man.

“wetin be your name?” I asked, my eyes immediately drawn to his chest and biceps beneath the sleeveless t-shirt he wore. I was instantly attracted to the raw masculinity that emanated from him. Unsullied by any city swag or the trappings of a socially aware mind. He was so naturally male and that was an instant turn on. I licked my lips in anticipation.


I’m here to light up your generator

“na Okon ma. Oga send me say your gen no dey gree start again, na hin I com look am. Wey d gen dey make I see wetin dey do am.”

At this point, my eyes had left his chest to settle on his full lips. I momentarily imagined what ‘damage’ those lips could do to my pussy lips and I smiled at Chief’s idea of a birthday gift. I took Okon to the back of the house where the generator stood and went back into the house, instructing him to call me when he was done.

The relationship between Chief and I was a curious one. I enjoyed being his mistress. An affair is very different than a marriage because you can break it off at anytime. And this man made life very exciting. It was never dull around him. I like when a man has money and he can take me places and buy me things. All women do. Don’t let anybody tell you differently, okay? If he would buy his wife a present, he would buy me a better one. He once bought her a diamond bracelet, and the next day he brought me a gorgeous diamond earring, necklace and bracelet set, very expensive. Tit for tat. This house, the cars parked in the garage…everything was taken care of by Chief. Nothing was too good for me.

Apart from the perks, Chief was also a very good lover and we helped each other fulfill our fantasies. Last time we saw, I had mentioned to him in passing how I often wondered how it would feel to seduce and fuck an extremely physically attractive Calabar handyman. He had joked about how I might end up getting romantically entangled with the fellow and how we would then elope to live in abject poverty in Calabar, fucking ourselves into penury as the days went by. We had a hearty laugh at that and then it was forgotten.

Yet, here was Okon. This million-dollar pussy (as Chief fondly called it), was gonna get whammed!

“Madam! Madam!” Okon’s call snapped me out of my reverie and I immediately dashed into the bedroom to change into something more suitable.

I changed into a short skater skirt and a cropped tee baring my toned midriff, and then splashed some water over the chest area. My big round tits shoved against the material of the top and my nipples stood out majestically. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror before walking out to join Okon, a packet of condoms partly hidden in my hand.

Walking towards him, I saw his eyes widen at my transformation and then the unmistakable tightening around the crotch area as his dick grew in approval.

“start the gen make I confirm if you don do am”

Still visibly shaken, he bent to start the gen and the outline of his taut ass bent at that angle sent my blood racing. The generator roared to life and then he turned it off almost immediately.

“make I start am myself, you know say these things get as dem dey be”

He moved aside to make room for me to start the generator and I bent over in front of him. My really short shirt instantly hiked up revealing my nice round ass. I glanced in between my legs and caught Okon staring wide-eyed at me with his mouth gaping open. I smiled. My plan was working. This was going to be the best birthday sex a girl ever had.

“Okon come help me drag this skirt down abeg”

“err madam, you wan make I drag your skirt come down?”

“I carry water for mouth? Come drag this thing make I for check if this gen don ready”

I saw him walk unsteadily towards me, closing the distance between us in a few short strides. His hands made to pull my skirt down and his now cold palms brushed against my exposed ass cheek in the process. That single touch immediately set off a tremor that traveled all the way to my spine and caused a pool of heat to settle in my money maker.


I want some o that Calabar banana

I. Was. So. Fucking. Horny.

After he pulled down my skirt, he stood uncertainly behind me, perhaps trying to decide what was expected of him…but trust a Calabar man to always come through when there’s sex on the table.

I turned around to face him, smiling seductively. He reached out and ran his hands gently down my neck and across my breasts. I felt my nipples stand erect from his warm breath as he bent and sucked gently on them. Then his hands were sliding down over my waist, around my belly button, closer now to my pelvis and ever so gently, he parted those lips to find me hot and wet. My bud throbbing, just waiting to be caressed. His mouth moved down slowly to join his fingers and he began to lick and suck…gently at first then he went into Calabar mode. I leaned on the wall for support, feeling myself getting wetter as my body tingled all over with desire.

“ohhh yesss, take me home papa!” I moaned spreading my legs further apart for him to enter but he stayed kissing, licking and blowing on my hot, ripe bud that felt ready to explode.  Finally, when I was just about to lose it completely, he took the condom from me, pushed me down on the generator and my now very wet pussy welcomed his long hard cock. Gently at first, then he went harder, more insistent. I held on to the generator while he held my butt. Faster, faster, both bodies slippery with sweat, until I felt the final rise and shudder as we both came together and crashed heavily on the generator.

“Okon, you know you have to return to fix this generator” I said to him, out of breath.

“ah madam, I go dey come fix your generator any time wey you want am”

I momentarily pondered on whether he meant my generator or my generator but I was too tired to give it any thought. Smiling excitedly, I let him lift me off the generator and carry me into the house for some more fixing.

Give me some more Okon



This could have been anyone, that is the most chilling part. We have all made friends off social media, Twitter especially. Some more than others. May God bless us all with the spirit of discernment and good judgement.

Originally posted on WELCOME TO IN AMEHS WORDS:

black-woman-crying-300x222Hi all,
This is a little story I want to share, it’s a tale of pain,sorrow and remorse , and as always I will appeal that you read it and make sense of it, and share it.

The names, dates and events have been altered, so any similarities are entirely coincidental.

I stood in line behind her trying to get a doughnut at an eatery, been a while I had a doughnut, so I was willing to endure the chatter of a young lady in front of us, she seemed engrossed with her mobile phone, typing away, receiving calls and describing what she had on, and looking around as if expecting to see someone, it was getting quite annoying and I soon realized I was not the only one feeling that way, the lady in front of me shared the same notion and hissed loudly between intervals, I would later…

View original 2,695 more words

A Promise Is A Promise


“There is one universal truth, applicable to all countries, cultures and communities: violence against women is never acceptable, never excusable, never tolerable.” – Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon

This year, the conversation revolves around ending violence against women. This is a topic I’m particularly concerned about, people constantly ask me: “why do you write so much about rape and molestation of women?” Well, if in writing, one less woman is raped, one more person is made aware of the perils women face, one more woman is armed to protect herself and other women around her, then my job is done. I write about it because I am tired of speaking about this matter in hushed tones, because women everywhere are getting raped and barely anything is being done about it.

Worldwide today:

  • Up to 50% of sexual assaults are committed against girls under the age of 16.
  • Globally, 603 million women live in countries where domestic violence is not yet considered a crime.
  • Up to 70% of women in the world report having experienced physical and/or sexual violence at some point in their lifetime.
  • Over 60 million girls worldwide are child brides, married before the age of 18

The entire world is talking about the achievements of women, yet the increasing cases of rape, murder, molestations, abuse, depravation and neglect of women begs the question: are we ready to celebrate women in their entirety on this day or is it another one of those honorary days we set aside that don’t really mean anything? Organizing gatherings and functions to make soothing speeches praising women’s courage, perseverance, strength and contributions to society in the name of women’s day hardly holds water if the women we celebrate still do not feel safe in their own country(ies). We need to have a society where a woman does not feel the need to watch what she wears or says because she fears she might be molested or raped; where women are not afraid to speak out against unspeakable cases of injustice against them; where the perpetrators of this injustice are no longer protected by flimsy laws and lawmakers who are afraid to get their hands sullied.

Masculine (and sometimes feminine) violence against women can only be stopped by following a holistic approach towards it in every level of society. The government alone cannot be held responsible for the ongoing incidents of rape and molestations until the entire society understands that the onus lies on them to treat women and girls with respect and equality. It is very essential to create an environment of respect, peace and non-violence in every house from the root level to protect the pride and honor of women. Parents need to educate their male children that it is NOT okay to raise their hands against women; that they are not allowed to take advantage of women; that just because they are married to a woman does not make it okay to forcibly have sexual relations with her.

The time has come for the entire nation to have a rethink on the degrading status of women in the country. Respecting women should not be limited to a single day of International Women’s day but should be a daily phenomenon. Respecting our mothers, sisters, wives and friends is not just a matter of one day but a lifetime responsibility that should come internally.

Here’s hoping today will mark a new beginning. Here is hoping we all take a firm resolution to act sustainably in order to end violence against women, so that the incidents like ABSU rape and the Delhi gang rape are not repeated. Here’s hoping we all join hands to build a viable society where the pride and dignity of a woman are strongly upheld.

To the future: here’s a promise. Happy International Women’s Day!

Christmas on the StreetZ

“Mom, you don’t like pineapple, do you?” Chike’s little voice came from the kitchen behind us, as Uche and I were curled up on the couch, watching TV.
“What are you doing?”  Silence from my chattering five year old is never golden.  In fact, it’s a sign of trouble.  I turned and there he was;  sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the store, unloading boxes and cans of food and ingredients into a neat pile.
“We have lots of food,”  he announced, “those kids on TV didn’t have any.  We’ll just put it in a box and mail it to them.”
I knew exactly what Chike was referring to.  Only 15 minutes earlier, there had been talk on the news about children in Makoko suffering because their homes had been taken from them, many were starving alongside their parents and relatives.
It’s that time of the year; the one where we light up the house with Christmas decorations. It’s also that time of the year where we exchange gifts or we give to those who don’t have enough.
So please join us this year as we do something different. If you have followed the news this year, at one point or the other you would have heard of the displaced settlement known as Makoko. They barely have enough infrastructures to be called a community but that is what they are.
This is why on December the 25th, we are planning on having lunch with as many residents there as possible. Mostly the children and as many adults as we can get around to. And this is where we need you all to come in. We will be accepting monetary donations no matter how little to make this happen. So please feel free to give us as much as you can afford.
Remember “Tis the Season!!We are still in the process of setting up an account but if you feel you want to be among the elite that will start our campaign with us, please feel free to contact us right away… And as much as we need monetary assistance, we will also want more people to get involved. So please get at us. We will also be needing volunteers that will come out to the community with us on that day! More information will be put out shortly!Got questions? Of course you do!Contact us:

Ada (for GTN)
Twitter: @ada_d_body
Tel: 08187145234

Twitter: @madphury
(Same email and number)



I watch him dress up and pack his things. He is leaving again – of that much I’m certain of – how long he’s going to be gone for? Now that’s the tricky part.

I lie there, watching him, eyes glazed. I can still taste his lips on mine, feel his hands gently caressing my body, his tongue flicking over my nipple in that slow, seductive way I’d come to love, I can feel him moving inside of me…the aftermath of our lovemaking always leaves me dazed. My chest constricts when I think of how much I’m going to miss him and I wonder yet again why I let him keep doing this to me, to us.

At that moment he looks up and catches me staring. He smiles and I find myself hurtling down the swift express of memory lane, transported back to when we first met.

It had been at my cousin’s wedding; I was the maid of honor, him-the groomsman. When I first saw him, my heart had beat up a crescendo. He had all the physical features I looked out for in a man: tall, light-skinned, and absolutely gorgeous, with abs that would make Liam Hemsworth green with envy. I was gone and so was he. For the most part, we were lost in a world of our own; a world of brown eyes and dazzling smiles, of wordless conversations and unspoken promises.

“I don’t know about you but this wedding has been an absolute torture! I hate weddings, I think they are such a sham.” He’d said when the wedding finally came to an end. I remember gasping and protesting vehemently about how weddings were absolutely beautiful especially when the couple were young and so in love…
“Thou doth protest too much, can I have your number so we can talk about all the trimmings of a wedding over lunch tomorrow?” He’d cut in with that disarming smile, I was powerless to resist.

The next day, we had lunch, then dinner, then went back to his place and spent the entire night together. We talked about any and everything; I had that nagging feeling of déjà vu – like we’d done this before, like we’d known each other forever. He was Yinka to Yetunde. my When I woke up the next morning in his t-shirt, on his bed…I knew that was where I wanted to be forever.
(I can almost feel your dirty minds running amok – don’t worry, we hadn’t done anything…yet. ;) )

The aroma of food wafted into the room and my belly growled in response, I padded down the hallway to the kitchen to find what was cooking. There I saw him; he had laid out a full English breakfast on a tray and was about to bring it to me, in bed. I couldn’t believe it!
There I was in all my early morning glory – tousled hair, no make-up, nipples pressing against the fabric of the tee, eyes puffy and mouth probably stinking…
“You look so beautiful” he said as he saw me, then he walked over and took my mouth in his. That was easily the best kiss ever! My toes curled and I arched my back to fully accommodate the length of his body. I kissed him right back, the next thing we knew our clothes were coming right off. I don’t remember much of what happened next but I do remember the breakfast tray clattering to the floor as we put the kitchen counter to good use.

And so our whirlwind romance began.

In the space of one year, we had gone through 3 breakups, each reconciliation grander than the last. He loved me, that much I knew and each time he returned, we tried to focus more on making the most of the time we had together thank fretting over when he was going to up and disappear again. He was terrified of commitments, he told me. This may have had something to do with his mother walking out on him and his dad when he was 7. His longest relationship had lasted all of one month before he bolted. He saw no need for a relationship, much less marriage. He had lots of female friends, some had benefits – he was happy.

Then he met me.

Everything had changed for him since then he said, he wanted to wake up with me in his arms. He wanted to share every bit of his life with me: the good, the bad and the downright ugly. He wanted to spend eternity making me smile…

So do then I had told him. ‘Cos if there was one thing I wanted the most in life, it was to spend it loving him in all entirety…

Then he fled again. And returned. And the vicious cycle continues. And once again I’m lying in bed willing him not to leave, not to mortgage our love on the altar of personal prejudice. Not to leave my body and soul bereft of emotion again.

But alas, he doesn’t listen. He never does.

This Rock, This Dream, This River

For Chinny


Far beyond

The seas of dear remembered kisses

On the shores of dreams that might have been,

Stands colossal, this Rock

Of beauteous black and bold womanhood,

Formidably enshrined upon our earth

As giver of that thing with feathers

That miraculously perches in souls

This Rock grandeza

Time after time, age after age,



This sweet and comely River

From out our eastern stream,

Is diamond of the first waters

And Illuminator of the feminist dream,

Flows eternal.

This sweet El río…



You’re what love has given

And where it’s magic breathes;

Where dreams feed their dreams

And whom they’ve dreamt to be:


A golden rose on a bronzed valley of silvered lilies,

Where summer’s warmth greets winter’s moonlight;

A kiss of jazz verbosely saxed on our lips,

Crescendo’d to ends to the soul’s delight.

This Dream is Chinny.


Sing! O’ muse

For this custodian to soo much loveliness

For this child,

Upon whom age smiles prettily

For this giver of that thing with feathers…


For this Rock this Dream this River,

Time after time, age after age,



Thank you dear Voke. :)

It’s My Birthday!!!


I wasn’t sure if I was going to write anything here today but I knew I needed to somehow put my thoughts down.

I’m not even going to lie, this past year has been pretty amazing for me. Great things happened in my personal life, my career and my education. I’m so grateful to God for always staying faithful to me and everyone around me.

Last year, I made some of you write me poems, which was great. This year, I’m just going to thank everyone who I’ve had the opportunity of interacting with this past year: the amazing people who have come to become friends; the friends who became strangers and everyone else who had an impact on my life this year. Thank you for leaving those footprints on the sands of my life. If I could have anything for my birthday I’d ask to have all of you in my life for another year, that a year from now I may wish the same.

God bless you all!

“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are
not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the
weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less
prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced,stray dogs
that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are
measured by these.” -Susan B. Anthony

I’m still collecting gifts sha so holla if you’ve got something nice. ;)


Oh and Google personalised my home page. Amazeballs!!!

The Little Gift That Keeps Giving

*clears cobwebs*

Man, has it been one long minute here? I suppose I should apologise for not posting constantly, yes? Truth is I’ve been really busy recently so things may not change even. I will try to sit my butt down and write something soon though, but in the meantime, here’s a story I wrote for Ynaija last month. So, if you missed it, enjoy!

Julie had just begun to work for us that summer. It is a really big company so typically, I didn’t know everyone who worked there; we only got to see each other at the staff canteen during lunch if they came and this was usually the time most of us bonded and forged friendships.

The first time I’d seen her at the canteen, I’d wondered who she was. She was the only one sat alone amongst everyone else in the huge hall. A strange occurrence if there was any as we prided ourselves as being one big happy family. I remember smiling at her the one time she’d managed to look up from her plate of amala round the room. That was the last I saw of her for a while.

About a month later, on a Monday morning, just as I drove into the company lot, I again caught sight of her dashing into the office building. I’d gone on inside after I parked my car only to meet a slight commotion at the reception area. Apparently, Julie had committed a grave error while completing a customer’s transaction and was receiving a great deal of heat from her supervisor who happened to be friends with me. Some of her colleagues stood around pointing fingers at her and whispering about how she was a terrible staff who totally deserved to get the boot.

As she looked up, I saw a terrible sadness in her eyes and my heart went out to her. I walked over to her, squeezed her shoulders gently and whispered:

“Those guys are morons. They really should get lives.”

She looked at me and said, “thanks!” There was a big smile on her face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I went on later to speak to her supervisor about cutting her some slack this one time and generally took her under my wings; we also started going to lunch together.  As it turned out, she lived near me so I drove her home as well. The more time we spent together, the more I realized just how really cool and smart she was. I asked her to hang out with me and my friends that weekend at the spa and the more I got to know her, the more I grew to love her.

Over the next year, Julie and I became fast friends. I watched her grow from that shy, timid junior staff to a self-assertive associate who knew her onions. She made friends with everyone and could hold a conversation with anyone without once fidgeting—a major feat for her too. When our close of financial year came, Julie was nominated staff of that year and was required to give a speech in this guise.

As the hour approached for her to go up and give her speech in front of over one thousand staff, I saw how nervous she was and I hugged her and said: “You’ll be great dear, this is what you do best-be great!” She looked at me with one of those really grateful looks and smiled, “Thanks.”

She commenced giving her speech and amidst thanking everyone who had helped shape her career thus far; colleagues, friends, family, supervisors, she told of the day she had met me, of how overwhelmed she’d felt that day what with problems at home and not delivering at work either. She told of how she’d decided she was going to end it all that day, how she was going to kill herself. She had already bought enough rat poison to knock of an entire herd of rats to OD on but fortunately, God wasn’t having any of that. He had sent her a friend-me who had brought comfort, laughter, happiness and sunshine into her life. Who knew a year ago that she was going to ever be good at her job much less become Staff Of The Year?

She had looked at me again with that look of eternal gratitude and whispered, “thank you”. I had tears pouring down my face by then, indeed there wasn’t a dry face left in that hall.

Who knew that my little act of kindness had saved a person’s life? Who knew that by extending friendship to that sad and lonely girl, I had not only given her hope but had unwittingly given hope to so many generations unborn? Now I never underestimate the power of my actions. I learned that the support of a caring friend can impact someone in ways we may not fully understand and appreciate.

Being a true and loyal friend to someone is the best gift you can give. I hope I can give enough of these gifts in my short journey through life.



Hello people! Today’s post is a slight deviation from the norm; a heartfelt piece from my friend @Tyvn crying for our dear Nigeria. Enjoy.

My heart bleeds, drowning in pains as I admit to myself, that the Citizens of our beloved Nigeria are all walking prisoners.
Everything has been taken from us by the Government, the Police or our richer neighbor.
As Nigerians we have nothing to stand for, our voices muted by fear. A voice that occasionally whispers, crying for help.
Our hearts filled with dread. We no longer pray to make it through the day;
We pray to make the next hour, not to be victims of another bombing or be in an area were planes drop like rotten fruits from a tree.
The Citizens of Nigeria seek Freedom; Freedom hangs above our reach.
How many more lives, how much more blood, how much more pain & discomfort? What is the worth of Freedom in Nigeria?
I want to be free from PHCN. Living with no electricity and having to pay exorbitant monthly bills.
I want to be free from LASTMA whose interest is to obtain the last twenty Naira in my pocket.
Free from the Police man who has abandoned his duty to protect the people and now protects his ‘well rounded pot belly’.
I want to be free from traffic; bad roads, potholes plunging us to our death.
I want to be free from bombing and having to see the blood of the innocent, spilled over religious fights and tribal wars.
I want to be free from tear-streaked faces, the cry of a mother who just lost a child or a husband to another bombing, Government assassination or plane crash.
I want to be free from my conscience having to debate over my last fifty Naira Gala dinner or giving it to the beggar on Falomo.
Free from a country where the Government is a detriment to progress. The rich get richer and poor no longer get poorer but are left to die.
I want to be free from our Government and their failed promises; the deaf ears they turn to the cry of the people whose votes they once cried for.
I want to be free from money; the root of all bloodshed and problems in Nigeria.
I want to be free from myself having to worry about all the things in Nigeria that I want to be free from.

Tivere P Peretomode, a not so proud citizen of Nigeria

Shoddy buSinEX

“Dayo is going to be home soon! We don’t have time!” I half moaned into his mouth as they ravished my lips.

In response, he bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth aggressively yanking my bra off, my knees buckled and I moaned even louder. He looked up at me and smiled that his knowing smile before lifting me from the doorway to the dining table. That had become our favorite spot, last time I had asked why he preferred the dining to the couch or even the bedroom and between pounding my pussy hard, he’d grunted:

“Cos I love it when you bend over on the table and take my dick like the bitch you are.”

I who ordinarily would have griped fervidly over him calling me a bitch had merely smiled, pushed him off me and taken his dick in my mouth, may as well play this bitch role to a B.

I never actually planned to have an affair. It’s the classic story which starts, “It just happened”. I’d never considered myself anything but faithful. My marriage hadn’t been happy for a while although I’d tried to brush the discontentment away. When I started talking to him it was purely as friends. Actually, we were friends of a friend on twitter. And twitter is where it stayed for most of its duration. I was undeniably attracted to him and we flirted outrageously in dms and bbm but that was all that I would ever do. Then one day the flirting went a little bit further. We were talking on bbm and started describing what we would like to do to each other. I honestly can’t remember who started it first but from then on we were incredibly intense. We chatted most of the day every day when he was at work and even when our spouses were near us at home.

He yanked off my lacy thongs and threw them on the floor and bent to lick my pussy, with slow precision that belied his aggressive gait he gently flicked his tongue over my clit—once, twice and then he just kept going. Soon enough his fingers left my nipples where they had been fondling my nipple and found its way into my now very wet pussy. Gently fucking me with his fingers and licking my clit soon had my thighs throbbing and aching for release.

We tried for a very long time not to meet. Neither of us had ever been unfaithful before and so it seemed like such a big step…but, inevitably we decided it had to happen. Arranging things was easy. He took a morning off work and I dropped my daughter off at pre-school before heading to a really exclusive guest house he’d picked out in Ikoyi. I’d chosen the date knowing that my husband would be away that night. That way I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye for 36 hours after it had happened.

“Fuck you! Fuck me now you punk!” I screamed in frustration.
“Not yet darling, I want you to beg for it” he returned not taking his tongue away from my aching clit. He loved to torture me like this because he knew how easy it was for me to turn to putty in his hands.

At every stage, from driving to the meeting point, to the first moment I looked in his eyes, our first kiss… I asked myself “Is this the point when I should start feeling guilty?” But I never did. Even when I was driving away, knowing he had been intimate with me in a way that only my husband had for the past 8 years, I didn’t feel anything except happiness.

At this point I couldn’t take it anymore so I shoved his head roughly away, turning around; I bent over and touched my toes then gave him a sly smile from between my legs that dared him not to put his now very turgid cock in my welcoming pussy.

Driving back home that evening, I felt more confident than I had in a while. I had had fun, passion and confirmation that I was worth more than a cook, cleaner and mother. I had just been with someone who would rather be throwing me onto a bed than watching Man Utd. beat Arsenal while drinking Guinness. We had been at it for 6 months now; venues had gone from guest houses to trips out of town and eventually to our individual homes. I was a housewife and many a time he’d drive to my place during lunch breaks for a truly stimulating lunch. I had no regrets, I would gladly do this all over again, or so I thought.

He grabbed my ass and penetrated my pussy in one swift move, slowly at first and soon he was pounding away. I was moaning and shaking so bad, before long my legs couldn’t hold me anymore as the first of several orgasms swept through my body. He grabbed me before I fell and pushed me on the table. Raising one of my legs, he kept fucking me really hard. A loud guttural groan shook the room as he collapsed on my back in pure sexual ecstasy and we both lay there panting. He kissed the back of my neck and whispered:

“your pussy got me physically fit.”

That was the last thing I heard before Dayo’s scream of shock as he walked in on us on the dining table, his dining table.

Liebster Award

I almost feel like Lue knows I’ve lost all inspiration to write and has decided to nudge me a little with this award. I’d like to thank her for the recognition and the Liebster award. She’s amazing y’all. :D

Here is a little something about the award: “This award we’ve discovered is given to bloggers who inspire you and have less than 200 followers. The Liebster Award takes its name from a German word meaning ‘Beloved, Dearest or Favourite.”

The rules:

  • Link back to the person who gave it to you and thank them.
  • Post the award on your blog.
  • Give the award to 5 bloggers with less than 200 followers that you appreciate and value.
  • Leave a comment on the 5 blogs to let them know that they have received this award.
  • Post 11 random things about yourself
  • Answer questions posted by the person who tagged you
  • Create 11 questions
  • Notify those tagged of the game
  • No tag backs

I haven’t been reading a lot of blogs recently so I’m giving this to blogs I noticed in the past. However, nobody is compelled to follow any of the rules above, if you decide not to, that’s cool. J Here goes:

1.  The Sirkastiq Center

2.  Weird_Oo

3.  April Laughs

4.  Third World Profashional

5.  Ms_Dania

6. Je_Mc2
Now to the elevens. Apparently I’m supposed to post 11 random things about myself and further answer Lue’s 11 questions. Err.. sorry dear, you see I’m still in the process of discovering myself so I wouldn’t even know what to say. So I’m just gonna go ahead and answer those questions. :D

Luciano’s Questions

  • What is the one thing that frightens you the most?

Losing either of my parents.

  • What song would you describe as your ‘theme song’ ie a song that best describes you or how you feel about yourself or certain issues?

Praise You In This Storm – Casting Crowns

  • Kim Kardashian, the entire Jersey shore cast (if they were formed into one body with a medusa head of all the cast members) and Nene Leakes; if you had one bullet, which would you, shoot?

Jersey Shore please and I’ll throw in Tinsel as a bonus; dunno what those folks are on about. 

  • What was the last most outrageous purchase you made?

Pairs of shoes, I think I must have been jazzed.

  • Is it best to have loved and lost or is it best to not love at all giving the possibility of heart break? Give reasons. (P:S: No BS sappy and generic answers too)

Are you kidding me? Do you know how much that shit hurts? Please I’d rather not love at all if I’m going to lose. Life is too short for that.

  • Tattoos or piercings. Which do you prefer and why? (‘neither’ is not an answer)

Tattoos please, I can’t stand pain. I may get one when I finally meet a man I love enough to totally lose myself with. Probably his name on my berry so he can see it each time he’s dining on Southern Cuisine.  

  • Who do you love the most, your brother or your boyfriend? (If married, replace with husband) Give reasons.

Lol, is this a question? If you know me, you’ll probably know I don’t joke with my twin brothers. Need more confirmation? Click here .

  • Is revenge ever justified? Give reasons.

If you ever get raped/molested, find that mothersucker and end his life. (I kid) 

  • Is religion an important consideration in a relationship? Give reasons.

If I see myself spending the rest of my life with you, it definitely is. I can’t see myself married to someone who doesn’t share my religious views and beliefs.

  • If you were president for a day, what is the first thing you would do?


  • What is your first memory of being aware of/attracted to someone of the opposite sex?

I was in primary school and I had a crush on my class prefect. He was DDG but I could never bring myself to say a word, I was a shy kid. Still am for that matter.

Dog In A Bathtub And Other Sexy Maneuvers

So yesterday I was kind of bored; I had gotten home early because I needed to catch up on my beauty sleep which was taking its pretty time too. Somehow, I had found myself internet surfing when I stumbled on this blog and my was it an eye-opener! I learned that no matter how sexually savvy I like to think I am, there are still loads of sexy maneuvers I had no knowledge about. The blog had started out innocently enough and then the writer talked about doing IT like ‘dogs in a bathtub’, of course my curiousity was properly piqued so I hit up my good ole reliable Google for answers on how to do it that way. ;)

Boy did I stumble on a land mine? I ended up reading up on on a whole lot more than just doing it like dogs inna the bathtub, see my findings below. Unfortunately, I have no one to try out any of those moves with seeing as I’m not married and all but I’m definitely placing a bookmark on that ish. ;)
Here are the 10 crazy sex moves suggestions. Enjoy!

 1. Dog In A Bathtub: This pretty much means putting your ball sack in your lady’s poop shoot (anus) while doing her. Yep, that’s about as hard as it is to keep a dog in a bath tub.

2. Alexander Graham Bell: This takes three people; at least one must have a penis. So, while blowing the dude, the blower talks into the head. Then, participant #3 tries to listen to what they’re saying by pressing an ear up to their balls like it’s schlong phone. It’s telefornication!

3. 72: Simple mathematics—a 69 plus three fingers in the booty hole. You pick the lucky winner!

4. The Ice Cream Stand: She does a headstand. You put ice cream in her crotch and eat it out.
(I wouldn’t advise anyone to try this though, what with the yeast infection and all that)

5. The Abe Lincoln (AKA The Monkey Or The Werewolf): Shave each other’s hot spots. Then, do it. When he’s about to blow, he pulls out and squirts on your face then tosses on the shavings. Viola! Now, you look like you could be president, or a mythical man-beast, or something that belongs in a cage.

6. 40 And Plum: This is when you take a chick 40 miles out of town and plum off the road to sex up.

7. Backseat Bullride (Or The Rodeo): While having sex with a girl doggy-style, reach around with your right arm and grab her left boobie. Then, whisper in her ear, “Your sister likes it like this,” and try to hold on for 10 seconds.

8. Wheel Of Fortune: Have a girl sit in a chair that spins and stick out her tongue. Then, place your D or V at the precise level of her tongue. Spin the chair as fast as you can.

9. Eiffel Tower: A threesome with at least two dudes. While the third is down on all fours, s/he is giving one guy a blowjob while the other is penetrating him/her. Then, the two dudes on either side high-five, forming a structure akin to the Parisian monument.

10. The Window Trick: When you are fucking a girl while she is facing the window. you have your friend in the closet without her knowing then slip out fast and he moves in. you then go outside and wave in the window and at that point the girl will go crazy.

11. Old TV: A funny sexual position where the man moves the woman’s elevated and outstretched legs as though he is trying different orientations for an old-time TV antenna.

What do you make of the list? Have any crazy moves of your own? Share them with us too. ;)


I just couldn’t help but share this post with you my dear followers. Racism, FGM and violence against women is an issue we constantly grapple with. It is high time we sensitise others and possibly bring change.

Originally posted on Mind of Malaka:

I had an Egyptian friend who was an artist, who left his country about 17 years ago because the views of his countrymen were too “myopic”.

“They are too bound by religion,” he snorted with disdain. “Religion has done more to harm my country than it has to help it.”

“I can see that,” I nodded. I mean, it’s true. The abuse of religion and atrocities in the name of whatever God one might ascribe to in any geographic location has only served to set humanity back a few decades.

“That’s why when I went back to Egypt I did an art show using the Qur’an,” he continued.  “I ripped pages from it, painted them red and smeared cow dung all over them.”

“What the hell did you do that for?” I asked indignantly. “Why would you desecrate a holy book like that?”

“You see!” he said triumphantly. “That right…

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Stem The Tide Of Envy

As the stylist tucked the last curl neatly into place, I gave her a warm smile through the mirror, reached into my purse and paid for the makeover—not forgetting to leave a generous tip for her trouble. The mirror told me my hair looked great, I felt good, I felt confident. Walking out of the salon packed with about seven women, my confidence began to slowly wane. Was there something wrong? Did I have something in my eyes or worse my face? The women all stared stonily at me before quickly returning their faces to their mirrors. Not one, nay none of them even as much as smiled at me, nor compliment my new look. Could I have been mistaken? I thought to myself, perhaps I had misjudged how good the hair made me look; maybe it didn’t fit me at all.

“Aunty you don fiiine!”
The security guard at the entrance of the salon enthused as he took the duplicate of the receipt from me on my way out; I generously left a tip for him as well while smiling my thanks, feeling my confidence getting slowly restored. Okay. Great then, at least someone thinks my hair looks stunning, or maybe he just said that for a tip? Hmmm a distinct possibility, one that was soon however debunked by the number of cars that stopped to offer me a ride as I patiently waited for a taxi.

So my hair looks great after all? Why then did all those women in the salon not utter one word of compliment to me? I mean, I wouldn’t say that’s validating; it doesn’t totally remove from the way I feel about myself but it does go a long way.
What is it about women and constantly wanting to outdo each other in the looks department? I find it incredibly tiring not to mention underwhelming. We need to come to the acceptance that not everyone was intended to be drop dead gorgeous and it is perfectly okay for a beautiful woman to think herself beautiful without getting derided for it by fellow women.

There is a snide competition between women, where we allow other women to be beautiful, to an extent. Other women can be pretty, as long as they’re not too pretty. A woman can be beautiful, but if she’s also smart, organized, rich, and has a great relationship? Forget it. We gossip about her and secretly love seeing her slip up. We alternate between wanting to be her and, well, hating her. I remember a friend from Uni, a heartbreakingly beautiful girl who incited much envy from other girls. Her crime? She made the most of her beauty; wearing make-up, dressing well, and styling her hair. When girls blathered about her, they would whisper, “But she wears a lot of make-up,” as if that could explain away her beauty.
This competitive drive, this need to label – am I beautiful? Am I pretty? How pretty? Where do I fall in the beauty spectrum? – keeps us from honoring our unique beauty. It squelches our individuality. Instead of enjoying our beauty, and trying to be our best selves, we act like junior high girls who all have to dress alike, talk alike, and look alike. It SUCKS!

People constantly say women are their own worst enemies, while I don’t totally agree with that, I’m beginning to see the trend. If you have held back from saying a kind word to a fellow woman by way of a compliment or perhaps have scoffed at someone because they thought themselves beautiful, then you are as guilty of this as the ladies who leave those vicious comments about women on Linda Ikeji and other such blogs.

This is not in any way to say that the crux of a woman’s beauty lies in her physical appearance alone. No. There are several women who even though they aren’t quite as good looking as the likes of Angelina Jolie or Keri Hilson, still possess beauty is other areas. While one person is blessed with a face that could melt the heart of an angel, another could have a body that would tempt a Pope (metaphor! Hold your horses, religious bigots!) and yet another could be blessed with wit and intelligence that far belies her age.

I think of how I’ve spent much of my life trying to be someone other than me. Or, a better, improved version of me when I could have spent that time celebrating my gifts. My unique beauty, body, personality? We are all beautiful in some way or another, so next time you are at that salon or at that meeting or see that really nice avatar on your tl, think nothing about paying a compliment. Someone once said ‘I don’t care how bad my day is going, if someone tells me I look beautiful, it automatically brightens it.”

Something I heard in a movie strikes a chord: “God dwells within you, as you.” I don’t have to change and be more like someone else to be okay. I am perfect, just as I am. I am beautiful, just as I am. I can’t be beautiful if I’m ashamed of who I am and what I like. The most beautiful woman that I can be is me.
As I free myself to be authentically, proudly me, I free other women. As I let my beauty shine, I open up a space for other women to shine. Sometimes, this means giving women permission to be drop dead beautiful – prettier than me – and to love them for it.

This is my take, what’s yours?

A Love Letter Of Sorts

How exactly did we meet again?

Oh yes. You happened to come along with my friend and her ‘boyfriend’ one night we went clubbing. I didn’t think much of you then, given what has happened so far, I’m not certain much of my opinion has changed. I thought you were a confused sleazy fellow; hitting on my friend and I simultaneously to your fancy. I didn’t mind, after all, you were a stranger who I didn’t care to ever see again. And then you took my pin and attempted to bring your pathetic flirting ways to my bbm, of course, I wasn’t having any of that. You soon got the message and let me be.

Fast forward about four months, your name crops up in a conversation and I wonder what became of that fellow. I decided to hit you up on bbm but lo, it appeared you had taken a royal exit. What to do? I asked myself, no closer to understanding exactly what this new craving to know how you were doing was about.

Brazenly, I dared to ask your friend for your contact details. I say brazenly for you see, your friend had also expressed interest in currying my affections despite being attached to my friend at the time. We had a good laugh at his myopic reasoning then, but that’s story for another day. I suppose the age old adage rings through; “birds of a feather flock together”. He was hesitant at first, even slightly envious of my interest in you, but that didn’t deter me, I wanted your number and by Jove I was gonna have it!

He relented and thus our whirlwind, love-hate relationship began. Love-hate? You may ask. Well then, let me tell you why. You had appeared purely ecstatic when I contacted you, gushing and expressing your undying love and affection. I didn’t mind then, you made dozens of promises to me. Let me attempt to remember some; a house in Lekki, a car, trips abroad, anything I wanted. After all, why else would a single girl agree to date a married man? You even went further to tell me how much I stood to gain from dating such a mature man; a shoulder to cry on, a wise head to discuss issues with, amazing sex and of course no emotional baggage. I lapped it all up like a willing pet dog.

Today is 6 months since the day I began that song and dance with you. I still live with my friend in Alagbado because you claimed the tenant kept asking for extensions and had refused to move out of the apartment you had wanted to give me in Lekki. I still don’t have a car, clearance issues you’d said. We haven’t travelled anywhere save that weekend I accompanied you on a business trip to Abuja. And the shocker, the absolute gut-wrenching final blow, the reason why I am sat in this hospital waiting room, the reason the scales have finally fallen from my eyes, the reason I’m writing you this letter; I have just learnt I’m pregnant. Did you quite get that? P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T! Again!

I don’t know what it is with you married men not wanting to use condoms! Do you think your penis is a bullet proof van? I remember you laughing off my protests at you constantly cumming inside of me; “you can always drink Postinor angel” you would say. Well, guess what? Postinor aint all that after all, seeing as I’m still pregnant. Not quite so alarming huh? I can always have an abortion like the two I had done for you in the past. But wait, there’s more. I have just learnt that I’m HIV positive too.

I know I should have left your sorry ass that first month when I realized how stingy you were, but I just kept hoping…wishing… It’s all over now. I’m going back to my family house in the village to go and hide my head in shame. At this point, I have no interest in your money or the lofty tales.

A copy of this letter has also been mailed to your wife, alongside those pictures we took together with your limp penis hanging on the side.

If nothing else; she deserves to know the truth. She just might be HIV positive too.

I hope you plunge to your death and all your children die painfully and mysteriously.

Useless man.

Ummm did you guys get what I did there? :) Share your thoughts if any.


Amazing poem! Each line holds a world of meaning, Tolu is indeed a Giant of the Pen.

Originally posted on Tolu Ogunlesi:

By Tolu Ogunlesi

For Us, who missed the party that set forth at Dawn…

“We are refugees fleeing from the excesses of our parents.” – Dambudzo Marechera

Shall we envy them who set forth at dawn?
Dawn, when cohabitation
was the biggest crime
good and evil could jointly muster.

They went to bed with yesterday’s sun
that they might rise, well before today’s,
and set forth, as the tip of day
light’s tongue licked the sky awake.

But as for me and my house
we shall set forth as midnight’s babies,
sleepwalkers burdened
by the ill-packed bags of emergency.

Midnight, when Crime and Innocence beat
with the single heart of siamese twins.

They sing to us
of the need to appease Somnus early;
they, barbers to whom wisdom
has entrusted her grey Afro,
patrons with whom dawn
perfected the strip-tease.

Pity – our gift to them,
our peace…

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Hollow Sacrifice

Like many Catholic children, I gave up sweets for the forty-plus days of Lent. I remember creeping downstairs on Easter morning, hoping to be greeted by a marvelous, solid-chocolate Palmer’s bunny. After surviving the torturous season of sacrifice, I could barely wait to nibble the cottontail’s long, delicious ears.

I would sometimes be disappointed to find a hollow chocolate cross in my basket in place of the preferred bunny. Propped in green plastic grass and surrounded by pastel jelly beans stood a milk chocolate version of my Savior’s object of torture. In place of Christ’s broken body, the cross bore a pink and yellow flower made of sugar. I couldn’t eat it. It felt blasphemous to do so. While it was almost impossible to endure the long, sweet-less days of Lent, the triviality of my “sacrifice” always shocked me when I was confronted by that chocolate cross on Easter morning. Even a child wrestles with the reality of Christ’s ultimate sacrifice.

The annual season of Lent is puzzling to many. Denying ourselves our favorite treats or habits – even for a short time – seems unnecessarily archaic in our I-want-it-now culture. Lent is a plodding, definitive crescendo that leads up to the cacophonous noise of Good Friday and the gorgeous aria of Easter Sunday. It’s a season marked by deliberateness and intentionality.

But we often get in the way of our own best intentions. When fasting from food or technology (or whatever else captures our hearts and threatens to take the place that only God can fill) we might be tempted to feel a sense of pride or arrogance about our sacrifice. The very thing we relinquish sometimes clamors inside us as a “need” to be met. Instead of focusing on Jesus Christ, our attention can dangerously be drawn to the very thing we’ve voluntarily surrendered.

Even so, the practice of Lent can be a valuable discipline. It’s difficult to comprehend what our continual sense of entitlement does to our bodies and souls. Our culture worships at the feet of pleasure, deeply bowing to all its delicious offerings. As we “shovel it in,” we can become desensitized to our needs – the real hungers – in our lives. Observing Lent can help us wrestle with the reasons behind our perpetual consumption. When we decide to relinquish that thing that fails to truly satisfy, we come face-to-face with some tough questions. Can we believe Jesus when he says, “People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God”? How can we make room for the Savior in our buried and burdened lives? Can we grasp the reality of Good Friday and live within its irony?

Lent challenges us to consider the honest answers to these and other soul-searching questions. It invites us to voluntarily jump off the hamster wheel of consumption and experience the pinch of abstaining from continual, thoughtless indulgence. It has the potential to give our frenetic material selves a much-needed break.

Like many believers, I hold fast to the annual discipline of Lent and continue to give up something that I consume. I treasure the season of abstinence, seeking, and revelation. Every year, I learn something new.

Perhaps I was – and still am – offended by a hollow chocolate cross because it signifies what is too often true about our spiritual lives: What we see on the outside might look pretty, but we can be tragically empty. Occasionally, the reality of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and the power of his love break through our hardened hearts. The realization, like a splash of freezing water on our tired faces, causes us to gasp. The hollow parts of our souls can be filled.

Culled from ‘Devotions For Lent’ and written by Eileen Button

Sex Is A Gift

This was originally published in 2010, be kind…

Have you ever considered why a woman who sleeps around changes men as often as she does after a season? Or even men themselves who change women often but succeed in telling themselves that it’s because they are bored and need variety when if the truth be told they have just never searched within themselves long enough to find out exactly why they are as fickle as they decide they want to be. (sorry guys no offence meant)

I am learning in my ‘old age’ to speak the truth and to practice it also because I want to be a person of integrity and show my children how to build character by example and not just by what I say. Well today’s truth for me is what I know most of us know but ignore for strange reasons like we think it’s not modern or it wouldn’t allow us the leeway to act out our impulses without restraint. For those who choose to live on that level please close the page right now but for the ones who dare to travel this journey with me then let’s start with this: SEX IS A GIFT!!

Soul searching some say, is the first step to learning; so ask yourselves how many men you have been intimate with that you have felt compelled to have sex with? How many times sex has been demanded for payment for or in return of a service? How many times have you used sex as leverage to acquire wealth (jobs, contracts, gifts), manipulate a situation or person or even force someone to remain emotionally attached to you against their better judgment? Worse still (and the one married people are often most guilty of); how many times has sex been used as a weapon to reward or punish your spouses or even to keep them from looking elsewhere for intimacy so much so that it loses its meaning and becomes mostly a functional act? Tough questions eh? Well if you found a yes or even a maybe in any of the questions then you stand with me in the discovery that WE have erred and short changed ourselves.

God made sex to be beautiful in its very essence as long as it remains as he created it …A GIFT. It is not just the merging of two bodies in hurried ecstasy but a merging of two souls that reminds us that our spirits are one with God and one with each other as long as we experience it His way. Sex is the only gift that is a seed whereby it can produce the precious gift of life (children) and was made both for our pleasure and for God’s pleasure of creation at the same time. Sex is what can add to a woman’s (or man’s) wholeness and can keep you ‘bound’ to another person in emotional intimacy or can cause you to lose yourself and the ability to be one with anyone if used in any of the ways that we described earlier. So I urge you in this season of lent to join with me as I gracefully acknowledge that to err may be human and though I may have given it or used it inappropriately in the past, my desire is to experience afresh God’s gift of oneness with Him (and him) as we share a gift so beautiful.

The Valentine Affair (R18)

“I’m going to have myself a wonderful valentine.”
I intoned for the umpteenth time as I pushed open the door to my office. I know how almost everyone says they don’t care about valentine. “it’s just another day” Chioma, my 35-year-old married assistant had said when I asked what her plans were.
“Why sensationalize it and throw away money? My husband and I celebrate our love for each other every day!”
“Yeah right” I’d thought to myself rolling my eyes, “it’s now over sensationalized cos you’ve got kids to take care of eh.” 

I’d taken special care this morning. Spending an extra hour in the bathroom doing my facials and waxing my bikini area. It seems funny now considering I really had no laid out plans…all I knew was that it was going to be a memorable one, somehow. 

At precisely 1pm a cake arrived with my name on it…”Happy Valentine Simone” it said with a big heart sign replacing the I. I smiled as my colleagues gushed at the cake wondering who this mysterious man was. No mystery there; I’d simply sent myself a cake. Far be it from me to not have a Valentine cake. I was single and with no man in sight, I knew I had to do this for me. 

Close of work met me not any closer to having any plans and I again wondered why I’d bothered with all that pampering this morning, I was gonna spend the night alone anyway…oh plus my scrumptious chocolate cake, of course. I called my driver to come take my things to the car and I walked out after him already mentally checking the movies I was going to watch tonight. TV was out of it, unless I wanted to watch happy couples snog all night long. 


“Oh! I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed as he ran into me, immediately bending over to pick up my blackberry 9900 that had clattered to the floor. I couldn’t care less, transfixed as I was at the sight of him. Who was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing here? These thoughts went through my mind at the speed of light. He straightened and I stared some more at his incredibly soft pink lips. Where had this demi-god come from?! He was Ryan Gosling, Idris Elba, Lynxxx and Chris Hemsworth rolled into one creamy, 6’4” drop-dead-gorgeous body, even Michael Ealy’s eyes had nothing on his.

“Your phone?”

His voice snapped me back to reality and as I tore my gaze from his lips to his hand that held out my phone, I knew for certain I was going to fuck him tonight and with that certainty, the tension at the pit of my stomach released and flooded my thongs.

“Umm…thank you” I managed, my heart beating erratically. “Are, are you here to see someone?”

“Yeah. I just got in from school and I’m here to surprise my girlfriend, she interns at this firm.”

School? Did he just say school? Oh fuck! He’s so young! And he’s got a girlfriend too. Hahahaha! This was going to be interesting. I had always fantasized about being with a girl anyway.  

It wasn’t difficult to get them both to come home with me to celebrate the valentine. I let the girlfriend sit up front with the driver while we played poker at the back. Some time during the ride we had introduced each other; he was Jack and the girlfriend, Amanda. I was surprised at how quickly they had consented to my proposal…freaky bunch they were.

Amanda was a beautiful girl, she definitely looked older than 20. She was about 5’7” tall, gorgeous body with her curves perfectly formed. She had a great set of tits, and a smile that could win anyone over.

We quickly made our way to my bedroom, Jack and I kissing and necking all the way there. I climbed up onto the bed, knelt behind Amanda who was on it already and guided her head to Jack’s throbbing cock. Pushing her mouth back and forth on it while he stood there and moaned. As I kneeled behind her, Jack reached over her and pulled out my breasts from the top of my dress, wrapping his big hands around them and squeezing them. My nipples quickly hardened in his hands and he began to pinch and pull at them until they were fully erect. 

He leaned in and started to suck on them, and his cock sunk deeper into Amanda’s mouth, forcing her to deep throat him.

“Mmm, yes, take that cock in.” Jack moaned out to her.

Feeling helplessly aroused I reached one of my hands down to my clit and started rubbing it in a circular motion while my other hand was still on Amanda’s head and Jack was sucking on my tits. 

As I started to moan, he looked at us both and said, “I think I want to try something new with you girls. Simone, you lie on your back. Amanda I want you bent over the bed with your face buried deep into Simone’s pussy and pleasuring her.” 

We got ourselves into position and Amanda started to eat my pussy while Jack stood there and watched, jerking his cock off as I grabbed his girlfriend’s head and pulled it deeper into me. As she bent over the bed tasting my sweet pussy, Jack pulled her ass up into the air, spread her legs wide open, crouched down and started to eat her from behind, rubbing her clit and tonguing her sweet hole. He was getting it ready for his rock hard cock. 

“Ohhh FUCK me!! Please please someone make me cum!” Amanda cried out.

Jack stood up, Amanda’s ass still sticking up into the air, he grabbed her by the waist and began to press into her, sliding his cock into her tight pussy from behind. As he inched himself into her, I looked up and watched until he was fucking her violently, she in turn went nuts on my pussy. Licking every inch of it, flicking my clit with her tongue. She inserted two fingers into my hole and then switched to her tongue in my pussy as she rubbed my slippery juices on my clit with her fingers. I reached down and grabbed my tits, rubbing them and even sucking my own nipples as I looked up and watched him pound into her sweet little fuck hole.

“Now I want you two to switch positions” Jack said. 

We rustled around the bed and got into our new positions. Me with my ass up in the air for her Boyfriend to take me and Amanda lying on the bed, spread open for me to taste her sweet young pussy. Jack slid his finger up and down my clit, collecting the moisture from my pussy onto his finger and rimmed my ass with it.

“You are going to get it extra HARD!” he said to me as he shoved his cock into my pussy full throttle.

I gasped and my body jolted forward with the force of his cock slamming into me. My face pushed even deeper into Amanda’s pussy causing her to moan and gush a bit of her juices onto my tongue. As Jack fucked me, he watched her face as she came on my tongue. He slid his finger into my ass, double penetrating me. 

“Omgggg!” I moaned.“Yes baby, make me cum all over your cock!” 

My body was shaking and I started to fuck him back uncontrollably. I came all over his throbbing cock that pounded in and out of my hot pussy so forcefully. He pulled out his cock from my pussy and spread my ass cheeks apart, spitting down into my ass hole and rubbing it in a bit. Then slowly he inserted the head of his dick into my tight asshole, pushing hard as he leaned in, slowly filling my ass completely. 

While he fucked my tightly puckered ass, Amanda turned herself around so her and I were in a 69 position, feeding off of each other’s pussy’s. I fingered her as I licked her clit. She licked my pussy as Jack’s balls slapped off of her head. He pulled his cock out of my ass and grabbed Amanda positioned her up beside me. He had us both bent over, on all fours, asses hanging off of the end of the bed. 

He took turns between us, fucking us, first her and then me, getting his cock covered with both of our pussy juices.

“Mmm Ahhhhhh fuckkkk, Yesss oMgggg” Amanda screamed out as she reached her climax.

Cum dripping out of her pussy and down her leg. Jack scooped it up onto his finger and pushed it into my mouth as he came over and fucked me . I licked his finger savouring Amanda’s taste.

“Mmmm…..” I moaned. 

I could feel him about to explode in my pussy, his dick pulsating, ready to cum. He flipped me around and I lay on my back, stretching my legs out wide as he pressed my knees back into my chest while he pounded me. “Mmmmmm YEAAAAAH!” he cried out. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of me. His throbbing cock shot out a huge load of his hot sticky cum, all down his shaft, on my face and stomach.

“UGhhhh” he grunted as the last little bit dripped out.

Amanda licked the cum off of his dick and then sucked on my tits and worked her way down my tight body and lapped up the cum from my stomach, swallowing it all. 

They both turned to me and Amanda said, “Now, to finish you off!”

They pushed me down on the bed, Jack spread my legs apart and rammed his face in between them, greedily licking my pussy. Amanda grabbed my tits in her hands and started to squeeze them and suck on my nipples. My body started to convulse as I raised my hips up, allowing Jack to get deep into my pussy with his tongue. Amanda reached down and rubbed my clit like a good little helper. 

“Holllly FUCK, don’t stop, I’m CUMMING!!” I screamed.

I started to gush out all of my sweet tasting pussy juice onto Jack’s tongue. He collected it and when I was done he kissed us both so we could taste it off of him. We all smiled at each other, knowing that what we had just done was so wrong but yet felt soooo fucking good.


As I collapsed on the bed after the fifth round, I smiled contentedly to myself: “it had indeed been a splendid valentine.”

Love, Happiness And Other Things Money Can’t Buy

I was watching a movie this afternoon, this rich miser is about to die, so he tells his family to fill up a suitcase with cash and place on the terrace. Says he will grab it on the way up(to heaven). So he ‘kicks the bucket’, as the saying goes, the wife goes upstairs and finds — what else — the suitcase still where she left it.
“The fool,” she says, shaking her head. “I told him we should keep it in the basement.”
We are all familiar with the saying that money can’t buy love or even happiness, I know a number of filthy rich people who are miserable and lonely. So it got me thinking, what are some of the things that money absolutely cannot buy for you?

• Family and friends: this goes without saying, unless they aren’t real friends, money won’t bring you any closer to them. I used to think being rich meant you had a pick of all the best friends and that family will love you to death, but I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, money will bring a lot of ‘friends’ your way but you gotta be able to determine who is there because they care about you and who just wants to live off the crumbs from your table. Making paper won’t bring you any closer to family if you are too busy chasing it.

• Happiness: clichéd, I know but it continues to ring true. No matter how rich you are, you could be lounging in a suite at the Ritz or own mansions scattered all over the world but there always seems to be something missing doesn’t it? Well if you can’t lay a finger on it then maybe everything you’ve got is purely narcotic.

• Personality: It is a sneaky creature, goes by other strange names like virtue and righteousness and at one time, a certain generation used to call it “true wealth”. We don’t really know whether it is around in these times but if you are looking to have it, it has to come from inside of you. Or some such thing…

• Peace: as the saying goes: peace of mind over everything or just generally world peace. It often proves elusive but I never came by a stall that had a jar of peace on a counter for purchase.

• Immortality: here’s the big one! Over generations, man has often sought a way to defeat death but even the wealthiest men haven’t found a way to outrun this sneaky bastard. Steve Jobs(RIP) one of the most influential and arguably richest men in the world passed away last year. What? You think if he could buy a cure for cancer he’d be six feet under? Think again. I’ve often wondered how children of beggars and street urchins manage to outlive us regardless of the fact that they feed on things far from healthy.

• Respect: I know. Nigerians are generally good at kissing ass so you would probably get respected a lot if you had dough to throw around but if you want to really earn people’s respect, you have to really earn it. You can smirk at the poor sods on the lower echelons of life, but they will pull faces behind your back if you are the sort who is perpetually asking for it. Dignity is the most fragile of public possessions. And God help you if they know about the skeletons in your closet.

• Talent: another clichéd, misused, misunderstood word, like creativity, and maybe no one knows what it is anymore, but you are either born with it or not. No way you can get a bill of sale on this one. What you do with it is of course your business. History has been very frequently marked with astonishing examples of creativity outdoing… well, money and everything else. Possibly the best example is Lenoardo da Vinci and a certain portrait of a woman. He took 16 years to paint it, did not bother to name it, packed it with himself wherever he travelled in Europe, refused to sell it to kings and counts. It was ultimately sold by his assistant after he died. Someone down the line decided to call it the Mona Lisa. At the other end of the example is Vincent Van Gogh. All that talent and he sold just one painting of the nearly thousand he made, struggling with poverty all along. Didn’t make a difference either way: in 1990, his Portrait of Dr Gachet went under the hammer for a current equivalent of $ 136.1 million, making it the fourth most expensive painting ever sold.

• Health: Sure healthcare costs being the way they are, you need all the money you can lay your hands on when it comes to facing the bills and pills. But, viewed sanely, a good efficient treatment is not that much of a substitute for a good healthy life. Isn’t it better not to need healthcare in the first place?

• Love: It matters, that little empty feeling when you are sitting with a glass of Chardonnay on your balcony on a Saturday evening, tweeting morosely with twenty sober thoughts chasing each other in your head, and no one to tell them to. That feeling of intense loneliness can neither be bought off, papered over or told to keep quiet and leave the room. Someone says, “Money can’t buy love, but with all the other things it can, I’ll give love a miss.” Your call. You still have the Chardonnay.

So there you go guys, please use the comment box and tell me what you think of my list. Do you agree? What other things do you think money can’t buy? Oh and check out The Beatle’s ‘Money Can’t Buy Me Love’, amazing song.

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