There was this guy that had been bugging me for sex for years, Dotun, and I had been turning him down every time. I just didn’t see it happening. We met on Facebook. He was attractive alright, a model even. But I found him rather slow upstairs. I am a stickler for wit and intelligent conversations, so I felt he’d have nothing to offer.
I graduated from the University and moved back to Calabar. He was still on my case, with hope that I’d move to Lagos and give him a good fucking. I laughed at his delusion. We still hadn’t met.
I was posted to Taraba for my NYSC. I started the service there, but my parents would have none of it. They had me moved without my consent to Lagos. Dotun was happy. He begged to meet me and I kept posting him.
A year and a half afterwards, I’d secured a job and moved to my own apartment. His persistence wore me the hell out, and so I invited him over. We talked, or rather, he talked and I listened. I was bored, but I did find him immensely attractive. Night had fallen, and there was no light. The room was hot, so I told him to take his clothes off. He did so; I could tell he was a little shy, which i found odd, because as a model, shouldn’t taking clothes off at the drop of a hat be part of the job description? His clothes came off, and he laid back on the bed and we were silent for about three minutes. The longest three minutes ever. Continue reading