FAIRYTALES ARE FOR VIRGINS

‘…He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the king and queen. He continued moving, and all was so quiet that barely a breath could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room where Princess Aurora was sleeping.

There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away, and he stooped over her and gave her a kiss.

And as soon as he kissed her, Aurora opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him with the sweetest expression . . . And then the marriage of the king’s son with Aurora was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days…’

I closed my Disney story book with a contented exhalation, and inserted the big, colourful book between a collection of story books in my personal library in the space mom had created for me in the large mahogany bookshelf in the dining area. I was nine years old at the time.

I’m an eclectic reader, I have been reading since I was as young as four. Mom really nurtured the habit of reading in me by making sure she bought me different books and works of literatures, some of them even higher than my brain capacity could fathom just to challenge my brain and make me think. Fairytale stories however ignited in me a certain kind of happy feeling no other books could offer. Over the years, I’d acquired all the Disney fairytales, from Snow White, to Sleeping Beauty. And I loved them so much that as I grew older, I still went back to reading the stories over and over again, getting the same thrill I got the first time I saw them. The larger-than-life, well-built male protagonist and the sweet-looking belle with dainty hands who gets swept off her feet, both of them eventually living happily forever. I guess that was my undoing.

As children, during playtime with my friends, I always took on the role of the mommy, catering to my ‘husband’ and ‘kids’. It gave me great joy whenever I slipped into my role, especially when mommy and daddy had to do what mommy and daddy always do – which was essentially clumsy caressing, light kissing and the rubbing of our small dicks against each other. I must point out that I wasn’t a very good mother, because sometimes, I also romanced my ‘children’, especially those who showed promise of being muscular men.

Eventually we grew up and were teenagers, and we were all supposed to chase after girls, and trade girl-crush stories and tales of our wet dreams, and look well-dressed always and ‘bouncing’ as we walk. I couldn’t do all that, I felt left behind. They involved me, they talked to me about their escapades. But I felt different. I still wanted the mommy/daddy plays, and I always longed to touch their tiny, forming biceps, caress their faces and be in their arms. And then, I resented them for changing so fast when I wasn’t ready. And as time passed, and I couldn’t shake off my odd feelings, and my effeminate gestures, I knew I had to be queer, though I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew I was attracted to boys and I felt alone…totally alone.

But that was okay. I’d always felt more drawn to the strapping, handsome males in my Disney stories anyway. I figured that the time would come soon, when I would be the swooning belle to some prince out there. It was a matter of time. I just had to wait awhile.

And then I was sixteen, or seventeen, back home from school. I’d just finished my WAEC and NECO exams, and the wait was on for the results. On that day, mom felt I needed a new pair of footwear. She gave me enough money to go and shop for it myself.

When I got to the shopping plaza dedicated solely to the sale of shoes and palm slippers, it was to find myself almost mobbed by the good number of young to middle-aged men, who hustled me this way and that, all in a bid to get me to do my business with them.

I’d often wondered why I shook off all the grasping hands, and decided to go with Melvin. I suppose it was his build; he was some inches taller than me, muscular and dark. There was something about the way he maneuvered his way through the throng of men who were mobbing me, pulling me ever so gently and rather protectively from the crowd. But really, my response to him was subconscious, I felt no attraction, because all I really wanted to do that day was buy shoes. I wasn’t looking to flirt with anyone. I was young and fresh out of secondary school. I didn’t know the things I did at night in hidden corners, with seniors and mates, I didn’t know all that existed outside the walls of my school, where I held sway as queen…literarily.

So, Melvin (at this time, I didn’t know his name) led me into his shop, which was narrow with fluorescent bulb tinted blue to give the shoes a cool look. I looked around to see the footwear on display and picked the ones I liked, shoes and palm slippers, and promptly began bargaining with him.

“Pay one-five, last price,” he said.

“No way! One thousand-five hundred naira for a pair of palm slippers? Ah, maybe I should go o.”

We haggled back and forth, and while we were at it, other customers came in to buy shoes and he promptly ignored me, leaving me to attend to the others. I was annoyed by that, and I petulantly slammed the pair in my hand on the ground with a thud that got his attention. He turned to look at me, and did what I hadn’t expected he’d do. He winked at me. There was something erotic about the facial gesture, and my heart fluttered. He came close to me, and said in a low, suggestive tone to me, “Please be patient, I won’t be long. I will love to be with you.”

Love to be with me? You mean, love to attend to me? I was mildly flustered. What was this guy saying to me? He had to be joking, merely messing with me, seeing as I was young and girly-cute and shy-mannered… I got that all the time, so I tried to stop myself from getting too excited.

Instead, I sat there quietly, tapping my feet on the floor, patiently waiting.

“So…em, I’m really sorry about keeping you waiting,” he apologised profusely when the other customers left.

“It’s ok,” I said, clasping my hands together and holding them between my thighs.

“I’m Melvin…nice meeting you.” He was smiling now, holding my hand with his wide, callused palm when I shook it and giving it a small squeeze.

I tried to smile back but I wasn’t sure if I did, because in that moment, my heart was pounding fast and I suddenly felt parched, and I felt giddy.

My sudden shakiness must have showed, because he inquired, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I answered with a slight stammer, forcing a smile.

And then, he did the next thing that absolutely shocked me. He threw his arms around my waist, pulling me to him, and murmured that I shouldn’t be surprised by his actions, that he’d taken one look at me and knew he needed to have me. He said he was in love with me.

Ah, such music to my sixteen-year-old ears, the word ‘love.’ Goose pimples raced over my skin, and I snuggled into his embrace as he pulled me closer to him, wrapping his well-formed muscular arms around me. I felt his bulge rise against the fly of his trousers, and my entire body trembled as I wondered what it would feel like to touch it. And I blessed the name of the Lord for sending this prince charming my way.

He gave me the shoes, all three pairs of them, free, and I promised to see him the next day. He gave me a soft kiss, nothing invading, lips weren’t parted, and tongues didn’t meet. Just a brief, tender touch of his mouth on mine. And then, I was on my way back home, feeling like Cinderella must have felt after the fateful night she danced and danced with the prince.

The next day, I went to see him. Our rendezvous was at his place. We talked for some time, before he finally made his move on me. He pulled me to him, and his hands went behind me to squeeze my pert bottom. He locked lips with me, and his tongue felt slippery and enticing against mine. As we necked heavily, my breathing became fast and I felt hard-on strain against my trousers. We moved to the bed where he ground his bulge against mine, dipping his hands into my ass, squeezing it, kneading the cheeks. Then I felt his finger fiddle with my butt hole, and I involuntarily jerked away from him. Fright was etched on my face. He stared at me, his expression concerned, as he asked me what was wrong.

“I’ve never been penetrated before,” I uttered shakily.

“Really?” he said with the kind of disbelief that annoyed me.

“How old do you think I am?” I snapped. “How long do you think I’ve been doing this? Besides I heard it makes one bleed, and that it’s painful. I can’t do it, I’m sorry.”

Melvin sighed, held me by my shoulders, and kissed me, murmuring into my ear and saying he would be gentle. I tried to protest, pull myself from his grip, but he held me firmly to him. Not that I couldn’t free myself from his grip or scream and attract attention from outside the house, but I was too turned-on and overwhelmed by all his manliness. I fired up my efforts at the foreplay, kissing him and sucking every inch of him exuberantly, delaying the actual intercourse, all the time hoping all that would be enough to make him come, the way it’d always worked with my sexual partners in school.

But he had a mission, and that was to bury his joystick inside my behind. As he fondled my nipples, with his dick brushing against my thighs and leaving his pre-cum on my skin, he whispered again that he would be gentle and that I should let him get inside me. In one last ditch effort, I tried to make him do ‘laptop’ on me. But he resisted.

Sigh!

Finally, I asked him to get on with it, pleading for him to be gentle. Nodding happily, he turned me around on my stomach. As he pulled down my boxers, exposing my bottom to his loving gaze, I felt terror grip my insides. I flinched when he fondled my butt hole with his fingers. He told me to relax, and assured me that I would enjoy it. Then he grabbed a jar of Vaseline on the stand where a standing mirror rested against the wall, scooped some of it and rubbed all over his fat, curved cock. Bare and unsheathed with any protection. It wasn’t even on my mind to ask. I whimpered at the sight of the hungry-looking joystick nodding at me, worried about the damage it might do to my derriere.

Melvin scooped some more Vaseline and rubbed all over the lips of my butt hole, fingering me with slow, tiny thrusts that made me jerk. He stopped and told me to stay calm and all would be well. I buried my head in the pillow, trying not to witness him penetrating me and to block the screams from escaping my mouth. When I felt the cool sensation of his cock about to make the grand entry, chills broke out over my body. My ass muscles clenched, and he rubbed his hands over my bottom in an effort to relax the muscles. Then he held the cheeks apart with one hand, held his manhood at the lips of my hole with the other and gradually pushed it in. I felt the cap of his cock open me up, and sharp pains spread like lightning strikes from my waist to my head. I began to pant for him to pull out of me, but the pleasurable sensation of sliding inside my honey-pot must have proven too much for him, because he resisted my efforts to shove him off, pinned my hands on his bed, and continued pushing his cock into me. I screamed inside my head, whimpering and feeling tears leak from my eyes. I felt him deep inside me, the narrow walls of my virgin hole tightly wrapped around his thick veiny manhood.

He sighed happily. I gave a slight sob. He was in heaven. And I was in hell.

And then, he started thrusting hard and fast, his hip going up and down as he plundered my ass. I kept wincing in pain and praying silently for the ordeal to be over. He moaned as he held my waist and pummeled me with his rod. After what seemed like forever, he gave a loud grunt, stiffened and started shaking violently as he shot his load inside me.

I was glad it was all over. I pulled myself from under him, feeling short sharp pains around my hole as I moved. It felt as though a bomb had been detonated in there. Melvin’s penis lay against his thigh, flaccid, and his body was all sweaty.

That was when it dawned on me that I had lost my virginity. But as I stared lovingly at the hunky piece of flesh who had taken it from me, I felt pleased. My heart fluttered with love. It didn’t matter. I had given my virginity to someone deserving.

When I got home, I cleaned myself up and lay on my bed, playing the lovemaking out in my head, recalling how hard and fast Melvin’s thrusts were, feeling afresh how stimulating his touch and kisses had been. And I was horny again. I giggled for no reason, curled up on my bed and realized I couldn’t wait to see him again.

The next day, I decided to pay him a surprise visit at his shop. I felt my heart thumping fast as I approached his shop. Oh, the excitement of seeing the one who had branded me his own. My darling… My boo… My one and only…

I got to the shop and went in. The entire room was shadowed, the heavily tinted fluorescent bulb was on, but didn’t do much to illuminate the dark, narrow space. I heard rumblings coming from the back, in the store inside. I tiptoed closer to the store and heard unmistakable muffled sounds of pleasure. My heart constricted with pain as I pushed the plywood door open and saw the brute, sweaty and panting, ramming his manhood inside some other guy’s ass. The dirty thing he was fucking was black and scrawny-looking. I was disappointed, I couldn’t believe that was who he was cheating on me with.

Upon my intrusion, they were startled, and then hurriedly put on their clothes. Then, Melvin came at me, hustling me out of the store and back to the main shop, with his harried questions about what I was doing there and why I came without first calling him. I was so filled with anger that at first I couldn’t even respond. The other guy soon emerged and tried to get around me. I was thoroughly disgusted by the sight of him.

And seeing him again, taking in his sweaty, scrawny appearance unlocked my vocal chords. I turned my fiery glare on Melvin and roared, “WHO THE HELL IS THIS THING?” I was wagging my finger condescendingly at his lover.

The guy, stung by my gesture and words, tired to pull me around to face him, demanding to know who I was calling a thing.

Melvin quickly came in between us. “Calm the fuck down, you this boy! Don’t shout here o!” he scolded me. Then he continued, “Why would you come here when I didn’t invite you ehn! Why?”

His words felt like a slap in my face. “Why would you say that to me? You dog! You disvirgined me just yesterday and now, you’re already jumping into bed – or is it table – with someone else?” Angry tears swelled in my eyes, and I blinked them furiously away.

The thing clapped his hands then, and laughed derisively.

I ignored him, and continued at Melvin, “We are suppose to be lovers… you were supposed to be with me and just me! Why would you hurt me like this?”

“See, Omar, stop this drama abeg,” Melvin snapped. “I know say na rich pikin school you go, this one you are acting like butter. But my prick is not for only you na, ah!”

The thing giggled with some more derision. And I felt like I was going to die. I couldn’t believe the fairytale I thought I was going to have had turned this ugly this fast. My world was crumbling around me.

The thing sneered at me then, “See, na pikin you be, shey you dey hear. Melvin na my guy. So no think say becos him just disvirgin you, na una two forever. Lai-lai! See am, virgin!” And he dissolved into more gales of laughter. Melvin himself tried to stifle a laugh.

I felt very low and mortified in that moment. And I turned and fled from the shop, my eyes wet with tears, my ears ringing with the echoes of their mocking laughter. I was hurting. And I sniffled and tried not to break down into loud sobbing. I had to get home first before I could allow myself to feel my misery.

In the meantime, I simply indulged my anger. I hated Melvin. I hated the thing. And I hated how naïve I was to believe so quickly that I could have a love like the ones I’d read in my Disney storybooks. And I walked, fuming and looking around for a taxi to take me home, flashes what I saw in the backroom, of Melvin banging the thing invaded my mind. I tried to shove the images aside, but they wouldn’t go away. I was hurting, and suddenly, I felt weird. I looked down, and – oh lawd! I had a boner.

ARRRGHHH!

Written by Omar