She was the kind of girl I always imagined my lover would be. Tall, thick and dark, with a long hair and pretty brown eyes. Her pink lips, flat nose and the usher’s jacket she wore every Sunday made her look charming. She was one of those quiet people out there who only talked on social media. While we usually chatted on WhatsApp, I couldn’t tell her how I felt towards her even though I felt she already knew. During church services, we usually stole glances at each other, smiling each time we caught each other. Occasionally, we got the chance to talk face to face after church services. Her name is Desire. I called her my heart Desire.

After church service one Sunday, I went home straight. There was no prayer unit meeting, so I had no reason to wait behind — except if I wanted to wait to talk to Desire. I didn’t get to talk to her because she was attending to some new members of the church. When I got home, I switched on my data so I could chat on WhatsApp. Desire wasn’t online yet. I didn’t feel good each time I came online and she wasn’t online. Sometimes, when I come online and she wasn’t online, I would just switch off my data and sleep. Chatting with her gives me joy such that I had to pin her chat. I left her an ‘Hello’ and kept checking from time to time to see if she had come online.

In less than 10 minutes after I sent my message, I got 25 messages from Desire. I quickly opened our chat. She sent 24 pictures and ended it with ‘Hi’. I couldn’t contain my excitement. Immediately, I opened the pictures to go through them. Damn! 24 hot pictures of herself! I almost salivated. Could she have mistaken me for someone else? Because she has never sent me pictures like this, though I dreamt of them many times. “Could it be that my dream was coming true on a blessed Sunday?”, I thought with a broad smile on my face.

“I’d like us to see this weekend”, she texted.

“Me too”, I replied excitedly. “But how?” I quickly added.

“Should I come over to your place?”

What? My place? Did she think I live alone? I was just 18. My father was an elder in the church. He would just kill me for bringing a lady to his house. I declined. Then she proposed her own house. She assured me she’d be home alone that day but would need my company so she wouldn’t be bored. She chose Saturday; a free day for me. I agreed, and strongly anticipated Saturday.

On Saturday, after my house chores, I appeared in front of her house. I had been there before, countless times. The bungalow belonged to her father who was also an elder in church. Desire was 21, the second girl and last child of a family of three children. She came outside the gate to usher me in. With a broad smile on her face, I knew she was happy to see me. Although, I felt uneasy, I had to fake a smile. She led me into the house and locked the door behind us. She pointed to a loveseat sofa and asked me to make myself comfortable. After serving me 5-Alive in a glass cup, she excused herself from the sitting room. In her absence, I looked around the well-furnished sitting room. That was my first time entering their big house.

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In less than five minutes, Desire was back in another set of cloths. She now wore a pair of jean shorts and a black armless crop top. It was like she renewed her beauty. I could clearly see the parts I’ve never seen before. Her spotless laps and arms. All my attention was on her curves and their beauties as she walked towards where I sat. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself?” She asked. A question which brought me back to my senses as she joined me on the sofa.

“I …ermm…I am. Thank you. Come join me”, I said with an uneasy feeling, as I diverted my attention to what was showing on the large LG Plasma TV.

“Thank you”, she said with a smile and added, “but you’re funny. How can you ask me to join you on something I got for you?” We laughed out loud together. Then we started talking.

Ever since I had known Desire, she talked so intelligently. Each time she spoke, her soft voice gave me goosebumps. If not for the Holy Spirit, we’d have sinned a lot because I got a sharp erection in my trousers each time she hit me. She’d have caught me many times if not for the thick trousers I always put on. As usual, she asked to hear me sing. Even though I knew she wanted to mock my froggy voice, I sang a worship song and she started laughing. I joined her in laughing. It has become a usual thing each time we got to talk face to face. “Has any girl ever told you what your lips look like?”, Desire asked suddenly.

I began to wonder where the question was coming from. “No. No girl has ever done that”, I chuckled. “How do my lips look like?”

“You have very soft pink lips”, she commented with a wink and quickly covered her face with her palms. That action reminded me of my first love when I was 12, before I got born again. I blushed furtively. No girl has ever said that to me. Come to think of it, is getting a kiss from someone you admire not an answered prayer? But how do we explain a kiss between a prayer warrior and a church usher? Could it be that each time we talked and she looked at me, it was my lips she always looked at?

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“Are you seriously kiddin…”, before I could complete my statement, her lips engaged mine.

Desire started kissing my lips hungrily. At first, I didn’t know whether to respond or not. But the moment I felt the comfort in her lips, I responded hungrily too. It was like hunger met hunger. We were filled with thirst and hunger for each other such that nothing else mattered at that moment except for the quest to find satisfaction in each other. Our hands found ways into each other’s nakedness. She unbuttoned my shirt even as our lips remained locked. Desire was an experienced kisser, judging from how she handled my lips. And I think I was trying my best too. With my assistance, she transported herself from the sofa to my laps. My hands began to move around her body. I touched and caressed her waist and thighs as our sensual tension increased. She led my right hand into her crop top to cup her perfectly round breasts. It was then I realized she wore no bra.

She pulled away. She took off her top just as I took off my shirt. We were naked from waist up. I could see her breasts clearly; they were so big and perfectly round. One could get lost in her cleavage. She pulled my face towards her breast and buried it in her cleavage. The smell was good. I planted kisses there. “Suck my nipples”, I heard her whisper. How am I supposed to do that? Apart from my mother’s, I’ve never sucked any other nipples before. She placed my head on her right breast and sighed. I said a word of prayer as I began to suck the taut warm prayer beads upon her breasts. As I sucked with passion, I continuously said silent prayers of forgiveness in my heart to God, only my ears could hear.

The Pastor’s words from the previous Sunday kept ringing in my ears as I squeezed and sucked her breasts. “Do away with lust. It leads to hell”. But this lust here was leading me to heaven. A good older lady teaching me all the things I’d never be taught in Sunday school. I fondled and bit her nipples hard, and even pinched them with my thumbs and indexes. I could hear her moan softly over my head. Each time I traced her nipples with my tongue before sucking them again, she moaned more. Desire’s moans occupied the empty spaces in the room. Then she pulled away again. Our eyes interlocked. She changed her position from sitting on my laps to lying on the sofa. My arms wrapped around her. Slowly, she took off her shorts and pants. I could see the map her juice made on the shorts and her pants. Her warm juice kept dripping out of her honeypot. Her hot body shape, fresh thighs and wetness made me drool.

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“Eat me. Eat deep into me like a cankerworm”, she spoke in a low moanful tone. I didn’t understand what she meant by “eat” until she gestured towards her vagina. I was shocked. How did Desire get to know what eating was? It was then I understood why someone said naïve-looking people are often the wild ones.

“This act is dirty and unclean”, I protested. “God never permitted us to do…”

“Do not call unclean what God has made clean”, she cut me short. “Haven’t you read it from the Bible ni?” she pressed further. Still confused about how to eat her smooth, swollen endowment, she added, “The temple of the Lord is forever clean, and my body is the temple of the Lord. It is meant for worship”.

“But the Bible never said the vagina is clean”.

“But the Bible never stated that ‘thou shall not eat the vagina’, did it?” I couldn’t answer. Desire pulled my head towards her vagina slowly. “Do not refuse what the Lord has made clean”. I still wanted to refuse to sin, but Chris Brown’s “Fuck me back to sleep” playing from the TV made me key into her words.

Though I struggled with eating her as I felt it was a disgusting sin, but I couldn’t resist this answered prayer. I muttered a prayer of forgiveness as I went down and tasted the first clitoris of my life. She tasted just like the forbidden fruit as my eyes opened to new revelations. I ate and licked her clitoris, labia and vulva with passion, like my life depended on it.

“You eat like Pastor Wilson”, I heard her whisper. Her moans and screams boosted my morale. I intensified the heat consuming Desire’s body and soul with my tongue until there was an outpour of living water gushing from the height of orgasmic crescendo. I was shocked to find out that my desire for more of her body intensified beyond my imagination. I couldn’t believe myself.

Suddenly, we heard a knock at the door… and I thought “God has decided to punish us for desecrating the image of Christ hanging on the wall just opposite the sofa of sin.”



Temidayo Jacob is a Sociologist who writes from the North Central part of Nigeria. He writes as African voice through a global view. His works explore the connection between poetry, humans and the society. He is passionate about espousing the  conflict between the individual and the society, especially through identity, sexuality and conformity. Temidayo’s works have appeared and are forthcoming on Rattle, Outcast Magazine, Lucent Dreaming, Kalahari Review, Peeking Cat Poetry, Sub-Saharan magazine, Ngiga Review, and others. He is also a contributor to leading anthologies. You can reach him on Twitter @BoyUntouched.

Categories: Fiction

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