I was ten when this story happened. It was a long vacation preceding the start of a new school session and my attendance of JSS1 in secondary school. I spent the holiday in the village per my father’s instruction; I was going to be resuming in an Eastern school, and my father wanted me to acclimatize myself with the East beforehand.

There was a period of August break, when there was no rainfall for a long time. And so, soon the supply of water we had at home ran out. And so, my grandmother gave the instruction for water to be fetched from the stream. Now, aside from her in the ancient house, there were also two female cousins of mine, who were primary schoolers. They couldn’t go on the errand because they had to go to school. In the house next door however was a thirteen-year-old second cousin whose parents lived in Aba, but who loved to holiday with his grandmother. My grandma was hesitant over the decision of sending me, her Lagosian grandson, to the stream alone. But then, my second cousin (who we shall call Buchi) offered to go with me. That gave my grandma some comfort.

For the errand, I took some clothes for the laundry and my water container, a ten litre jerrycan. Buchi had a 15 litre jerrycan. He very generously offered to carry my laundry on our way back, and I was very pleased. On our way to the stream, a journey that cut through a number of bushy paths and a broader ground that sloped downward right up to the banks of the stream, he showed me around, pointed out landmarks, basically acquainting me with my hometown.

By the time we got to the stream, I was winded. As a Lagos boy, I’d always prided myself on being an ajekpako pikin, but compared to these sturdy children abounding in the village, I realized I was basically an ajebutter.

I was tired, yes. But when I beheld what was waiting at the stream, I felt my bones liquefy. And it had nothing to do with my trek.

There was a proliferation of naked bodies splashing about in god’s waters. Taut buttocks. Chiseled bodies. Hefty anacondas swinging this way and that. Every one of these males totally unselfconscious in their nakedness.

Dear God of mercy! What is this?!

Even as a ten-year-old, I could recognize the blessing and beauty of the body of the male specimen.

I leaned toward my cousin and whispered, even though no one was within earshot, “Is this how they bathe here? Can’t they even wear shorts?”

He laughed. “How will they wear shorts and properly bathe themselves? This part of the stream is for the guys. No girls are allowed.”

Well, that rule has just been violated, I wanted to say. I felt like a girl in the midst of all this sheer testosterone! I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer to God about self control.

In spite of myself, I felt my prayer wasn’t going to get answered, because I could feel a surge of sensations taking over my body.

“Where is the spot for washing?” I asked Buchi.

He pointed at a shallow part of the stream. I followed his finger to the sight of some boys already doing their laundry. The water source was somewhere around there, gushing outward to fill the other deeper section. The boys washing had placed their lathered clothes upon hacked palm stems laid out on the soggy ground; they pounded at the clothes with their fists, intermittently dipping the clothes into the gushing water and lifting to either recommence pounding or twist into a rinse.

Their seemingly choreographed motions got me excited. But I felt dread too because that was a shallow end of the stream, not high enough to cover my troublesome waistline.

I went over to wash, and determinedly tried to keep my mind distracted from the sight of the bathing boys and focused on my laundry. I must not have been too successful in controlling my body, because, as I would find out later, Buchi was watching me and noticing.

When I was done with my laundry, I wanted to simply fetch my water and leave. But Buchi declined, saying that it wouldn’t make sense to get home from the stream and take my bath when I could just do it here.

Hian! See how devil has come down from the wilderness to tempt me o!

I was terrified by that suggestion. I demurred, telling Buchi I’d rather wait for him to take his bath. He said no, that we should both take our baths. After much cajoling, I agreed, with the caveat that I would take my bath with my shorts on. He objected but my mind was made up.

So he took me to a deep part of the stream, a bit isolated from the splashing bodies. I went into the water, right up to my midriff. Then I lathered my chest and my head, and reached into the water to do the same to my nether region.

As I splashed water over my chest to wash off the lather, Buchi shook his head in disapproval. He was in the water too, washing himself. “You’re not having a proper bath.”

“Allow me o!”

“Just pull off your shorts. Since no one can see that side, there’s no point.”

I saw his point and conceded, divesting myself of my shorts. He encouraged me to swim over to a deeper part of the stream. I did, but was soon terrified, because the water level rose to my collarbone. Before I could splash back out of the there, I saw Buchi draw close to me. I thought he was approaching so he could make me feel comfortable with his nearness, to ease my terror.

He was taller than me, so when he stopped in front of me, the water level was just at his chest. He stooped until his head was level with mine.

“See?” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

I smiled tremulously in response.

I felt him spread his hands out inside the water, as though he was paddling. In that motion, his hands brushed against my sides. He did it again, and again his hands brushed my sides. This time though, he held on. He must have felt my pulse racing because he said, “Why is your heart beating so fast?”

“I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared. Just relax.” And he dipped his hands to the sides of my thighs.

As his hands travelled downward, I felt a surge of discomfort. His hand went in further and took hold of my semi-hard penis. I was startled, and I gave him a look, a ‘what are you up to’ look.

He smiled in response, and his fingers began fiddling with my penis, kneading it until I got hard.

Jesu!

Then he began to play with the sparse strands of my pubic hair. He chuckled. “Your hair is still growing. Feel my own. I have a thicker forest.”

I reached out my hand. He pressed forward. I felt the pubic hair. He had a thick forest indeed. As I played my fingers through the thickness, he straightened up a bit, causing my hand to come in contact with a raging hard-on.

I loved the feel. My hand stayed around it, my fingers wrapped over the pulsating length. He was still holding my penis, and began to move his hand slowly over it, exciting me. I was both shocked and excited. I could not believe we were being this illicit in full view of God and the people in the stream. To take away any suspicion, while our right hands wanked our dicks inside the water, we splashed water on our bodies with our left hands.

Buchi’s hand worked me furiously, with more experience than mine on him, and before long, I was moaning and ejaculating inside the water. He held on until I was done trembling, before releasing me to paddle backward.

I was breathless as I looked at him move away. And he had a smile on his face as he looked back at me, a smile that promised more pleasures like this.

Written by JBoy

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