LET ME SING A SONG ABOUT LIFE (Part 2)

Previously on  A SONG ABOUT LIFE…

*

At the time my romance with the Hausa trucker was ending, us final year students had started preparing for our WAEC exams. Then the National Youth Service Corps posted Corper Danjuma from Kano State to our school. He was assigned to teach us biology. He was an averagely good-looking man, dark, slim, about 5’11 tall, with very white teeth. Curiously though, I didn’t have a crush on him.

There was an inter-state debate competition and three schools had been able to make it to the final – two government colleges and my school. I was the leading speaker of my team of two. Our English teacher had drilled us to the marrow. There was no reason for us not to win. The other teams knew me very well; we’d met a few times in the past and they were aware of my experience. My school had even won this competition two years ago, when I was the supporting debater. I was the second of the leading debaters to speak and I did my best. My voice was bold and strong, and my points very decisive. And I won with a 95% for the leading debater’s group, the runner-up getting 77%.

However, the ultimate win was not to be for my school, as my supporting teammate flubbed when it was his turn to speak. He kept stuttering through his points until his time ran out. Our school came third. The last of the finals. I was devastated.

The following Monday, the principal of my school, who had watched the debate on TV, called us out to the front of the assembly. As we walked to the stage, I broke down in tears. The loss was still burning. The principal pulled me to him, calling me his son and saying that I was a winner as long as the competition was concerned. He was right; I received the Speaker of the Day’s Award. But the fact that I couldn’t secure a win for my school bummed me out.

Later that day, I’d gone to the staffroom to pick up some books and was on my way out when I felt a hand on my shoulder, a deep voice said, “A-Boy!”

I turned around. It was Corper Danjuma.

“Good morning, sir,” I greeted. “Were you talking me?” I asked, ever so politely.

“Yes. That’s why my hand is on your shoulder.”

“Oh. But my name is Bamidele, not A-Boy.”

He chuckled. “You’re my A-Boy.”

I was still feeling too surly to appreciate whatever complimentary intent he had in his words. So, I said, “I don’t understand what you mean by that, sir.”

He laughed again and said, “Come and see me during break time and I will tell you why.”

I said okay and went off.

Later in the day, I went to see him at the staff office which he shared with a female corper. Corper Danjuma was alone. He gestured for me to sit down and asked if I wanted to drink anything. I said no. I actually just wanted to know what he meant by his earlier words that I was his A-Boy.

So, I asked him.

He laughed. “You’ll make a good lawyer, you know? Fine man lawyer.”

Maybe it was the compliment, or maybe it was the fact that he was being so genial. But for the first time since I got to know him as a teacher in my school, I suddenly began to really see Corper Danjuma. I noticed he had a bald head. I noticed that he looked like he was in his mid or late thirties, something I found odd. It was noon and his dark skin seemed to shine in appreciation of the nice weather. I also noticed he spoke an accent-less English, not like Mallam Garuba and his brothers who sold suya and other provisions at the Sabo Market of our town.

He went on to tell me that he called me A-Boy, because he knew from all the drama surrounding the debating competition, that I would get all As in my WAEC exams. Because he could see that I was intelligent. Then he added that my intelligence complimented my good looks and these two combined would endear me to people later in life.

I was pleasantly abashed by his compliments.

Then he came over to me from his seat. Now directly facing me, he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Can we be good friends?”

I shyly nodded yes.

He looked down at me for a few moments, and then went back to his seat where he began to search through his drawer for something. He produced a Biology Past Questions manual and handed it to me.

“To seal our friendship,” he said.

I thanked him and left his office.

The gift seemed to draw us closer, for we started exchanging greetings whenever we walked past each other in school. With time, I started looking forward to seeing him anywhere in the school compound.

One morning, after assembly, about two weeks after that first conversation with him, Danjuma sent me a short note which read: Would you mind joining me for lunch during break time?

I couldn’t believe he’d even asked. Of course, I would love that!

When I went to join him at his office, I was a little disappointed that the lunch wasn’t something he’d made himself, but rather ordered from the canteen. He noticed my disappointment and said jokingly, “Maybe you should come to my place sometime to taste my food.”

I said I would and he told me his flat number, since I already knew where the corper’s lodge was.

Two days later, on a Saturday morning, I set out to give Danjuma a surprise visit. I got to his place by 8 AM, with some snails I was breeding as a present for him. Initially, the quietness of the environment and the sign of no activity from the house dissuaded me from knocking on his door. Two thoughts immediately came into my mind: either he was sleeping in with a girlfriend or he had travelled. All the same, I knocked. Three times. No response. Disappointed, I was turning to leave when the door was pulled open.

And Corper Danjuma was standing there on the threshold, yawning and stretching.

Except that was not all that got my attention.

Danjuma was wearing loose, grey pajamas, some sizes bigger than him, hiding his stature, but doing nothing to mask the early morning erection he had on. Now, I’d seen enough dicks in my young life, but nothing I’d seen came close to being as impressive as the outline I could see etched against Danjuma’s pajamas. It wasn’t even fully erect and the lengthy thickness of it was stretching against the fabric of his sleeping wear. It was all I could do not to stare fixatedly at it and keep my attention on Danjuma’s face.

“My friend!” he exclaimed in Yoruba when he saw me, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Surprised by his accent-free Yoruba, I said, “Good morning, Corper. Sorry for waking you up.”

“No worries. I couldn’t sleep last night. So, I did some reading and ended up sleeping really late. Welcome.”

I handed him the nylon I brought with me, telling him what was inside. Then I turned, acting like I wanted to be on my way. But he asked me to come on inside, something I’d hoped he would do. I believe this was the moment when I started falling for Corper Danjuma. Love at first sight of his cock.

As we went inside his apartment, I asked about the reason he had such an accent-free Yoruba. He told me he was originally Yoruba, from Kwara State, but was raised in Kano. His parents had moved there as traders, and so, he was fluent in both Hausa and Yoruba. He also told me that he had a wife and a daughter. When I asked why he was serving at the age of thirty-something, he said the NYSC program was to boost his promotion in the civil service.

The room we’d settled in was clean and well-ventilated. I was seated on the only two-seat couch in the room. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, which was the room behind an adjoining door. I could hear him brush his teeth. In less than two minutes, he was back out, having replaced the pajama trousers with jogging shorts, which unfortunately for me only accentuated his impressive manhood the more. The shorts ended above his knees, revealing slightly hairy thighs. The white T-shirt he was wearing was a bit loose, but one could see that he was neither a fat nor an extremely muscular person. I liked that.

He sat on the bed, not even trying to keep his dick imprint tucked out of sight. Something I appreciated, as I angled my head in a way that made it possible for me to ogle his bulge without seeming to do so, as we talked.

But he must have noticed, because some minutes later, he asked, “Since when have you been into this thing?”

Puzzled, I asked, “Into what thing?”

He smiled and looked me straight in the eye as he suddenly began to rub his hand over his crotch. “I know you’ve been looking at this since I opened the door for you. So, how about you join me here in bed so we can talk better.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. Even though my excitement was bubbling over, I kept it concealed as I moved slowly and shyly from the seat to the bed.

There were no “talking better”. He simply took me into his arms and kissed me. I kissed him back. He began roving my body with his mouth and hands, kissing and caressing me all over, moaning about how sweet I tasted. And then he told me to suck him. I did. I pulled out the throbbing hard dick from the confines of the shorts and began sucking him with as much skill as I could boast of at that age.

Then he whispered in my ears, “I’m sure your ass can do better.”

I was more than ready for me. His manhood was a raging pillar as he pulled off his clothes and I pulled off mine. The foreplay was hit and heavy, and I was trembling all over from the passion of his kisses. Then he ate my man-pussy, before applying a generous amount of Vaseline on it, all the while commenting on its tightness.

The abundance of the lubricant, the heady foreplay, and his gentleness as he penetrated me all made it easy for me to take his massive organ in. However, the deeper he went, the more challenging the journey became. My rectum began to give a signal. He smartly recognized this constraint, and slowed down, advising me to relax. This gentle motion of his waist in and out of me, without going too deep, went on for a while, before he resumed digging into me. This time, I welcomed him. Pain and pleasure registered themselves in my mind, but I was determined to enjoy every bit of this. The silent communication between Danjuma and I was amazing during the lovemaking. He seemed to anticipate the needs of my body.

Before long, his big balls were slapping against my rump as he increased his tempo and began to aggressively fuck me. He went on and on, until he tensed and finally pulled out with a loud roar, and shot his spunk all over my body — a climax that made us slump into each other to relax for an hour or so.

I must have slept off, because I was awakened by the aroma of eba and egusi soup. We ate together, and thereafter, Danjuma pulled me to bed, my head on his chest as we talked away about many things. We made love one more time before I left his place to go home in the evening.

And just like that, Danjuma and I began to see each other quite regularly. It was so clandestine. Sometimes, he would send his keys to me through a junior student during break time, which meant that I was expected to spend the night at his place. I would simply go home after school to drop some things and pick up whatever was required for school the next day, and then go straight to Danjuma’s place to wait for him. The sex was great. And I began to miss him whenever we weren’t together. The more I missed him, the more intensely I felt the need to be together with him.

My best Friend, Segun, was one of the very few people who noticed my closeness with Danjuma. He was aware of my homosexuality and got a little jealous at all the time I was spending with Danjuma, even reminding me of the age difference between us as the reason our relationship was inappropriate. Not that I cared.

At that age, all I could think of was being with Danjuma forever. I honestly believed we would be together forever. I’d even gotten to fantasizing about traveling with him back to Kano at the end of his service year.

That was not to be though. After months of being his A-Boy, Danjuma dropped the bomb just days before his departure from my school, when I asked him about our future together.

“Dele, you know I’m a married man,” he said gently. “And even though I would have loved to take you along with me, I can’t risk living under the same roof with you without running into your room every now and then for us to be together. Thereby running the risk of exposing our secret to my wife and others. If you were living in Kano, it would have been a different thing. Plus, you’re too young to just leave your family and go away with me. I am sure you’ll find somebody who’ll truly love you more than I ever could.”

This last statement broke me. I could not envision a love other than the one Danjuma was giving to me. How could he say a thing like this?

I was in tears as I tried to get up from the bed where we’d been cuddled in. But he pulled me gently back, holding me close and saying sweet things to me about how he would figure things out. We made passionate love for most of the night. And the next morning, he told me that the best way forward was for me to make the University of Kano my second JAMB choice, and also that we should stay in contact. Since I had no mobile phone, I only took his number and address through which I could contact him.

On the day of his departure, I didn’t go to say goodbye to him, because I couldn’t contain the emotional tears that kept flowing. After he left, Danjuma’s number stopped going through. I got no reply from the letters I sent him. He didn’t get back to me like he’d promised. And we never saw again.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Bamidele