It was 6.30pm by the time our bus got to Nyanya Motor Park. I was thoroughly exhausted. I never knew Lagos to Abuja was like Africa to Asia. I was in high spirits, a mood of anticipation at the beginning of this journey, you know, going to the capital city for the first time and all that. But all that good mood wilted when I was stuck in Lokoja traffic for hours that seemed unending.
My brother was at the terminal to pick me. I hadn’t seen him in seven months since his traditional wedding in May, at Nnewi. The church wedding was last month, but I couldn’t attend because I had an exam. He was looking quite different. Was that a pot belly? We quickly exchanged pleasantries, put my bag in the back seat and drove off. We kept bantering on different issues all through the short ride.
Adaora was at the door to welcome me, her dearest brother-in-law. She was fonder of me than the rest of my siblings. Perhaps because I’m the last or because I’m the sibling who is closest to her husband. Yes, Ugo is the eldest of us, but the two of us, first and last, have a special connection. Adaora sashayed toward me as I jammed the passenger car door close, and flung out her arms in a wide embrace that couldn’t take two people in. I took in her Jessica White body figure and we hugged for some seconds.
Ada: Eze, don’t think I’ve forgiven you for not coming to our wedding o!
Me: Ah-ahn! I’m sorry na, Ada. Shey I explained things to you.
Ada: It’s alright. You and this your ‘shey’. Yoruba boy. Let’s go inside biko.
Ugo: Bia, Eze, so I should carry you bag inside too, ehn?
Me: Which kain broda you be sef?
We all laughed and proceeded to the sitting room. I sat down and threw back my head, a little relieved. Our trio continued bantering, especially about my journey.
Then Adaora called out, “Ari, come and say hi to your in-law!”
I gave a start. I’d thought it was just the three of us in the house. Ari? Like Arianna Grande? You’ve got to be kidding me! A girl in this house would spell doom for me. I just don’t have a thing for girls even when they throw themselves at me. Yes, I am that handsome.
So I was expecting to see a pony tail, night gown and nipples. Instead, when the curtain hanging over the doorway to the corridor parted, I saw a singlet, boxer shorts, and a mapped-out, dangling shape of something in them boxers. I swallowed hard. Arianna Grande was nowhere as sexy. I recognised his face, from the traditional wedding. Damn!
Ugo: Eze, this is Arinze, my wife’s youngest brother. I’m sure you saw him at the trad. He’s in Bida Poly and came around for the weekend. Arinze, here’s my kid brother, Eze.
I wasn’t sure if I moped with my jaws apart all through my brother’s introductory speech. I hoped I wasn’t. Arinze was of average height, 5’9 perhaps. There was something about the way he smiled. He had strong legs, and biceps that didn’t bulge too much. Aha! Flat tummy. And yes, cakes. I took all these in a matter of seconds and still managed to look uninterested. After Ugo was done speaking, we shook hands.
Arinze: Welcome Eze. How was trip?
His voice – Chineke nna! I don’t know if I replied or smiled like a clown, but I mumbled out some words.
As if to worsen or better my plight – I didn’t know which – my brother said something. He said I’d have to share a room with Arinze.
Save me, dear Lord. How was I supposed to survive this night sleeping next to a chocolate hunk who I wouldn’t mind trekking back to Lokoja for?
I followed Arinze inside with my bag. The bedroom was fairly big with a medium-sized mattress, big enough for two people to squeeze into. There was a wardrobe, reading table and chair. It was comfy. And there was rug on the floor too. He fell on the bed and began to fiddle with his phone. I stripped off, and prepared for a bath. He stole looks at me, looks I caught but pretended not to see.
Maybe he is what I hope he is, I thought with bated breath. Bless you heavens if he is.
After dinner and night prayers, I announced that I was tired and needed rest. We said our goodnights and everyone retired. My brother and his wife went to their room to commence whatever it was newlyweds do at night. I lay on the bed beside Arinze, avoiding body contact. He’d had a quick shower after prayer. Oh, how nice he smelt. I was in just briefs, and he was in just boxers, no singlet.
Jesus, come save me!
The subdued night light gave his body a kind of hue. His nipples jutted out on his chest, very thick. My fingers itched to stroke them. He had hair sprinkled on his chest and abdomen too, but not as much as mine. His barbered head and goatee. His shy navel and slender waist. The contour and folds of his boxer. Chim o! I had to do something before something would do me.
I decided to break the awkward silence. I started by asking him how the wedding played out. He started out slowly, but gathered velocity soon. He wasn’t like a Ferrari. We talked, and soon we were laughing. Look at me nau, that was supposed to be tired and asleep. God punish konji.
We switched talks to school life and campus. And soon, during a lull in the conversation, he was snoring mildly and gently. I wondered briefly how strong my thirst for his cakes was that I even found his snoring melodious. Feeling my heart pounding, I nudged his side. I didn’t exactly know what I wanted to confirm; perhaps to check if he was truly asleep. There was no response. Maybe he really was asleep. I scanned him from head to toe. Then I gave another nudge, a harder one this time. No response still. Just his pleasant-sounding snore. My oga at the below was already doing press-ups like a redhead lizard. Silly thing might just burst out of turgidity.
After about ten minutes of battling with my mind in creepy silence over what to do next, finally unable to resist the temptation, I reached out my hand and brushed my index finger against one of his nipples, circling the aureole. And just then, someone let out a gasp.
Arinze: What took you so long?
Startled, I jerked slightly away from him.
Arinze: Did you think I was asleep?
He was smiling like the Mona Lisa.
Arinze: I liked you from the day I saw you at the traditional wedding.
I stared at him with utmost astonishment as he kept talking, wondering if this is real.
Arinze: I saw you in the car through the window, when Bro. Ugo drove in, and I went in to wear boxers and do a few push-ups.
Was I dreaming? I pinched myself. The pinch hurt. I wasn’t.
Faster than I could say Jack Robinson, he began sniffing out at my briefs, pulling it down. He brought out my oga that had been throbbing and wrapped his mouth around its head.
Oh Jesus, thy kingdom is come here in Abuja!
He took in the entire 8 inches shaft and didn’t gag. Impressive. Nigga was even hornier than I was. He began tracing circles on my balls down to my ass crack. I was at his mercy. He struggled with his boxers while giving me head, and revealed a pretty sized dick, 6 inches at most. It was rock hard. Soon we were in a 69 position, and nigga smelled nice. I buried my face in and tongue-fucked him. He gave out muted moans. A cool zephyr coming in through the window caressed our skins. I turned him over and gave him head too. He was writhing with pleasure and was drooling precum all over. I threw his legs over his head and rimmed him again. This time, he almost tore the sheets into shreds. He knew he shouldn’t moan out loud lest we wake our siblings. So he had a pillow to his face, and grunted into it.
I quickly reached for rubbers in my bag and my Nivea lotion too. He was already in position, his arse in the air. I creamed and kneaded his hole and cracks abundantly. I sheathed myself and had it glistening in the soft night light. When I entered the lobby, it was as though I swam into a warm wetness. The arc of his back was as solid as the Niger Bridge, and my fingers were commuting to and fro. We worked up our rhythm to a faster pace and he swayed his waist and head in perfect accord. This guy really was a bitch. For someone who was supposed to be tired, I surprised myself. After so many turns and twists and styles, the dove started fluttering behind my head in sensual spasms, and with the sweetness rocking my waist, I knew it was coming. I quivered, quaking with pleasure as those warm jelly seeds spurted and squirted into the rubber. We collapsed into each other and kissed violently.
Me: You do realise we are supposed to be in-laws and not fuck buddies.
We were putting our undies back on. He simply smiled and said something like ‘Thank you’ in a wry tone.
Someone tapped me awake in the morning. It was Arinze. Memories of last night rushed into my blank head immediately. He kissed me passionately.
Arinze: Your brother and my sister have gone to work. So it’s time for St. Paul’s second missionary journey.
He laughed and kissed me some more.
My seven days in Abuja was fuck-filled. He didn’t go back after the weekend. He loved my dick, I guess. Or those abokis in Minna didn’t do it well. He came up with some excuse about feverish conditions to explain to our wards why he should stay back some more days. We fucked every blessed day. All the flings I had planned to fuck in Abuja didn’t matter anymore. Nonso, Kunle, Kaycee et al. I told them I didn’t come to Abuja after all.
However I needed to return to Lagos before Idris would find someone hotter and available. Finding and keeping a loyal guy is hard.
Arinze saw me off to the park the day I was leaving and made me promise to return to Abuja someday. I promised. Oh yes, I promised, willingly and honestly. And so, right now, I’m working towards being posted to Abuja for my NYSC. I pray it works. Anything to return to the national cake the capital city has to offer.
Written by Masked Man