I am still on the journey of reconciling my status with my sex life. My guilt is still there and I know it is going nowhere. I have had sexual advances from friends, which I turned down. If you could see the guys I have been turning down, you would slap the gay out of me. I am doing this on purpose. I am taking time to process. I’m the kind of person that, when I want to feel, I feel very deeply. When I don’t want to, I’m as hard as igneous rock. I am letting myself feel all the guilt there is, so that when I am ready to not feel and someone tries to remind me, I can remind myself that I have been there and back.

And I am getting to that point gradually. All this while, I have been practising self-pleasure, with my PEARS Baby Oil. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to get by. I have also been googling safe sex with a HIV patient, and I think I have it down to a science. It comes down to three things.

1) No blowjobs, no rimming, no matter how big and chocolatey the dick looks.

2) Kiss on the lip only, as passionately as possible, without the tongues touching.

3) Use durex condoms with plenty of lube. It’s known for its durability.

4) And if the condom breaks, it’s not my fault. Someone is manipulating that person’s destiny and it’s certainly not me.

Yes!

That’s what I have narrowed it down to. A little stone cold, yes… But you fuck, I have to fuck too, don’t I? I have laid down my plans. I am just waiting for the chance, because, believe me, I AM DAMN READY TO FUCK!

No guilt is going to stand in my way this time. That person could be hit by a truck on his way to my house and die anyway. So what the hell? It’s not like I am serving the HIV out like dessert. I have needs too. The best I can do is ask the lover to be moderate with his speed, so the condom doesn’t break. But studies have shown they usually don’t heed my warning. I don’t know if my warning turns them on, or if it’s the default setting of my cakes. They just can’t help it.

And then the chance comes. Abaz sends me a message on whatsapp. This one is a done deal. Abaz is at my beck and call; even if I call him around 2:00am, Abaz will come running. I have him on a leash. Besides, he doesn’t like kissing, which is part of why he bores me. But he is just perfect now.

Abaz used to be my boo anyway, but I got tired of his lies. He is well built (used to be a gym instructor, just so you know *bats eyelashes*). Even after I walked away, he has been trying to get back with me, but I just haven’t been in the mood. If I am going out and I forget something at home, I don’t go back for it. That’s just me. Except it’s my phone. That’s just how I am. But I have to go back this time, for a fuck.

Abaz: Hey dear, I’ve missed you.

Me: Ok.

Abaz: I would love to see you, at least to check on you.

Me: lol. Abaz, it’s past 8pm.

Abaz: I know… Are you alone?

Me: Yea.

Abaz: So should I come?

Me: Ok.

I want it bad, but I don’t want to look desperate, even though I am a typical “desperate housewife” at this point. I won’t mind showing up at his office tomorrow, if he doesn’t show up tonight.

I grab my phone and go straight to my music player. I start playing Kelly Rowland’s Motivation. My favourite lines in that track are:

And when we’re done, I don’t wanna feel my legs

“I just wanna feel your hands all over me baby…

I walk to the bathroom dramatically, making each step rhyme with the beat of the “sex anthem” I am playing, with extra poise and grace. I step into the shower. I let the water run down my skin like I am a sponge, absorbing the water. I am preparing like a bride who just got married and is about to kick her virginity to the curb. I use my ‘Dr Ives Goat Milk’ shower gel lavishly on my skin, gently rubbing the lather into my soft skin. I shave my armpits clean, and trim the ones down there, as low as possible. I don’t usually take them all off, to avoid bumps and itching.

The preparation ceremony is almost complete. Just one final step left – The Cleansing.

I get a bucket of water and my douche. I fill my douche with water and I blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah. Then I blah-blah-blah-blah, until the water was blah-blah-blah-blah.

That is when I know I am ready. I shower again, to finalize my ritual, and apply body spray. I clean my room and arrange my bed. I pull out my favourite briefs, my superman briefs. Now, all that is missing is Abaz. I have already put the condoms and PEARS Baby Oil under the pillow; I don’t like leaving the bed for anything once foreplay starts.

The wait is killing me. I turn my laptop on and start seeing an episode of How to Get Away With Murder. That Annalise is quite a character though; she can throw anyone under the bus just to save her ass.

It is 9:46 when I hear a knock on my door. It has got to be Abaz. I open my door, and it is Kosi, my landlord’s son.

Kosi: Brother, good evening. Abeg I wan plug my phone.

So this Kosi comes to my room – shirtless, I might add – around some minutes to 10pm, to charge his phone…in this my mood? If I grab his dick now, shebi they will clap hand on my head, ehn? Kontinu.

I simply think of nasty things like vomit, dog shit, and Charly Boy, just to take my mind off Kosi and his temptations. I don’t let him come in, as I take the phone off his hand and remind him that he can’t come back to get it till morning. He says okay.

A few minutes later, another knock sounds on my door. It is Abaz this time. I let him in, and we exchange pleasantries. Abaz and I haven’t seen each other in like four months. I don’t reply his messages all that time. It is a little awkward at the moment. We can’t even look each other in the face. We are both quiet and using our phones to save ourselves. I notice that he has been working out though; he’s more muscular, attractive, and I find myself hoping he has gained more stamina, because he used to be too slow for my liking.

Then he finally speaks.

Abaz: So, how have you been nah?

Me: I’m good o.

The room goes silent again. After like ten minutes, he speaks again.

Abaz: Have you eaten?

Me: Yea. Sorry I didn’t cook o. But I have fruits. Have you eaten?

Abaz: Yes.

Me: Okay.

The room goes silent again. After another few minutes, he tries again.

Abaz: There’s no light in your area?

I chuckle.

Me: You just noticed?

Abaz: Ok…I won’t be staying for long sha.

Me: You’re going back this night?

Abaz: Yes. I didn’t tell my brother I am sleeping out.

Me: Abby, come here.

He smiles and moves towards me reluctantly. He puts his arms around me and grabs my ass. He tells me my cakes were getting bigger, and how much he has missed them. Nothing turns me on more than when a man plays with my ass while he sings its praises. I feel accomplished. I place my head on his ripped chest, and it dawns on me how much I have missed him. He lifts me up like I’m made of paper and throws me on the bed. I burst out with laughter. He takes his shirt off and lies beside me. Then he kisses me. I didn’t see that one coming. I kiss him back. I clutch his body to me and I kiss back.

That his perfect body… Oh my! Pinky knows about that body. He has seen him; perhaps he can help me explain so I don’t exaggerate. I close my eyes and take in all the sensations coursing through my body. I caress his body like he is a new phone I am exploring. His dick is already thick and throbbing like it is going to burst. I feel it, and I want to count the inches with my mouth. The urge is magnetic. I resist.

Abaz goes for my soft, almost-not-there nipples and proceeds to suck the black out of them. I keep on wriggling like an earthworm placed in salty water. He knows my left nipple is much more sensitive than my right, and he just goes to town on it. I let him do it, because no one else has done it to me. I gasp and moan and writhe and beg. Abaz doesn’t let go of that left nipple. He sucks on it until I beg him to stop. I can’t take it anymore.

He kisses me again, and then, he starts going low, kissing my navel, before going further down. When he gets down there, he flips me over. He bites me on my ass and slaps it like it’s a sack of jelly. Then he parts my cakes with his hands and is about to dig in.

I quickly turn over and look at him. I am very surprised. Abaz had never liked all this freaky shit. And now, he’s kissing me, fingering me, and even wants to eat my double-layered red velvet?! Nigga, who are you right now? Like seriously! Did you just graduate from ‘Be A Good Top Montessori College’?

He stops and looks back at me. He smiles and says he thought I like it. I say I do, but I thought he didn’t. He says he just misses me. But no matter how much I want to let him eat the cakes, I just can’t let him. However, I get so emotional in that moment, that I grab him and kiss him hard. The kissing is quite steamy. I think to myself about how better it will be if we just get this over with, because if we go on, emotions can get involved and I just might do something I never intended to.

So I slip my hands under the pillow and bring out the condom. I give it to him and he slaps it on. With just a little more than enough lube, his shaft glides into my cookie jar. Oh boy! I feel every inch of it as he buries it to the hilt, and I appreciate everything beautiful ever created. He starts thrusting slowly, and I moan ecstatically in approval of his hard work. When I get used to his speed, I grab his ass and push him further into me. And like the good man that he is, he understands that it’s a sign that translates to “Go deeper.” He complies and puts in all he has. He puts his back into the task at hand, and I feel it in every untouched nerve-tingling corner. He hits my spot thrust after thrust, over and over, and all of a sudden, I am seeing rainbows and unicorns. I dig my fingernails into his back, and he understands that to mean “Go faster.”

Abaz is now like a raging bull, no sense of slowing down at all. His eyes begin to squint. And I know it is about to rain peak milk down there. He begins to wank me as fast as he can, and after a while, I began to squint too. We are both there. Just as I shoot my load, he gives out his signatory animalistic cumming roar.

And thereafter, we lie there, exhausted, happy and smiling sheepishly.

I acknowledged that there was no condom breakage, and to the best of my knowledge, no HIV transmission. It’s a win-win, don’t you think?

Written by Bobby

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