THE LITTLE DEVIL

I think fondly of my childhood friend, Nnamdi, who lived on my street. Born only a month apart, we were typical prepubescent males who hung out together, played football and talked about profane things. Nnamdi was tall and very handsome. His skin was dark, like a moonless night. He was pretty huge for an eleven-year-old; little wonder why we dubbed him ‘The Hulk’. On the football field, Nnamdi towered head and shoulders above all our peers – perhaps that was what often led me to wonder what was concealed between his thighs. At the time, it wasn’t uncommon for boys our age to gather round and show off our manhood to one another. It was a thing of pride, comparing our flaccid penises. Nnamdi though never participated in this ritual and that only increased my zeal to see him pants-down. What started out initially as a harmless wish began to morph into a viscous carnal desire. I simply didn’t want to just imagine what was between Nnamdi’s thighs anymore, I now wanted to see it for myself.

And I did, one evening after a football match in my compound. The two of us had just finished playing a round of ‘one-touch’ when we collapsed on the ground, exhausted, he more than I. We rested a bit before we began bickering about mundane stuff, and in a short time, we were play-wrestling. Again, this was normal for us as kids, a sort of parade of masculinity. I was very competitive as a child; I simply hated to lose. But every time I wrestled with Nnamdi, I did. It didn’t help my chances that he was bigger than I was. And he was a beast when it came to wrestling; his robust physique was his advantage. How I managed to pin him to the ground that evening still defies the laws of physics.

Clearly upset by the defeat, he tried to shrug me off but I remained resolute, hunkered down on him like he was my captured prize. In that moment, I felt the power tussle tip in my favour. Nnamdi had lost his invincibility and I began to see him differently. He no longer looked like the giant that he was; he now looked small and weak and vulnerable.

I pulled myself off him, giving him time to gather his breath, but all the while taunting him enough to provoke a reaction. He fell for it and as I expected engaged me in round two. Fully aware that our physical exertions had taken a toll on him, I waited for him to tire. When he did, I pinned him to the ground a second time, unzipped his pants and fighting off his protests, pulled aside his drawers. He struggled to break free but my hold was strong and firm. As I stooped over him, all I did was stare at his nakedness.

When I was done satisfying my curiosity, I freed him from my grip and immediately offered an apology. I was truly remorseful but Nnamdi wasn’t buying it. He threatened to report me to his parents as he zipped up his pants and barged out of my house. He swung the gates wide open and furiously slammed them as he left.

For all the theatrics, he didn’t rat me out to his folks and the incident became nothing but water under the bridge. We mended our friendship and continued hanging out together, playing football and talking jargons. That was until I struck again.

At fourteen, Nnamdi and I weren’t kids anymore. Puberty had claimed our innocence. He had grown bigger and had clearly defined features whereas I remained the short and unassuming lad battling with pimples. Our bodies were going through all sorts of physical changes but nothing changed about our friendship, except for the small matter that I had developed amorous feelings for him. I had grown to like Nnamdi very much and enjoyed his company more than that of my other friends. Whenever he came around, I would get horny and restless. Watching his fat ass bounce with abandon in the field fanned the flames of my carnal desires. At night, I would fall asleep with thoughts of him in my arms and succumb to erotic dreams. In the day, I would spend my time scheming for ways to explore my numerous sexual fantasies with him.

It was torture being that close to him yet unable to express any of my lustful intentions. Even though I was aware that what I was feeling was unpopular and “unnatural”, I couldn’t suppress my feelings for Nnamdi. I eventually had to face the truth: that I was obsessed with him.

I spent lots of time observing his routines, taking and storing notes of his daily activities. I stalked him the way a beast stalks a prey, quietly, patiently and stealthily, waiting for the right moment to pounce. I became a hunter and Nnamdi became my target. And as soon I got a clear shot, I fired!

In retrospect, it was easy to lure Nnamdi. As naive teenagers rendered unstable with testosterone, pornography was a mutual acquaintance neither of us could resist. “Mojo”, as it was called then, was not easily accessible but credit to my persistence, I had discovered my older brother’s hidden stash. On several occasions, I invited Nnamdi over to my house and played the X-rated CDs in our VCR while my folks were away. It was pure bliss seeing his dick swell underneath his trousers while we watched the ‘blue film’. The bulge in his pants always looked humongous and that turned me on. I would often pull out my penis to masturbate, hoping he would do the same. But to my disappointment, he never obliged. Instead, he would fix me a dull gaze, scoff and continue to watch the video, ignoring his own visibly erect manhood. He always maintained such a cool and calm demeanour and never paid any attention to my antics, an action which was excruciatingly frustrating for me. My plan was failing miserably and I was getting discouraged but my luck was about to change.

When I eventually found the balls (no pun intended) to ask Nnamdi why he never masturbated when we watched porn, he responded by saying he only masturbated with soap. I then told him that I could teach him another method if he was willing to learn. He pondered for a bit and then nodded in agreement. With his consent, I led him to the back of the house, into one of the unoccupied rooms. After shutting the door, I pulled down his pants and stroked his penis to full erection. It was as huge as I had imagined, thick, fat and way bigger than mine. He gasped in anticipation as I shoved it into my mouth. I gave it my best shot and from the way he curled his toes and rolled his eyes, I could tell I was doing a good job. As I blew him, I began to notice an enthusiasm in his body language. He was now relaxed and comfortable and wanted to participate actively, so I let him.

He went on his knees before me and after careful inspection, buried my penis deep inside his throat. Unfortunately, his fellating skills didn’t quite match his enthusiasm and I immediately stopped him before he could cause any damage to my penis. We then stroked each other’s cocks till we climaxed, cleaned up and got dressed. All this happened in silence as Nnamdi and I suddenly went mute. I didn’t know what to say and apparently, neither did he. We just sat there in silence until the sound of fast-approaching footsteps jolted us to a panic. When the footsteps died, we quietly exited the room and made our way into the main compound. As soon as we did though, Nnamdi headed straight for the gate and left for his house without even so much as a muttered goodbye.

In the week that passed after our tryst, I didn’t set my eyes on Nnamdi at all. He didn’t come to hang out in my compound or join us on the field to play football. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. We didn’t have mobile phones then, so there was no form of virtual communication. The only way to find out the cause of his sudden disappearance was to pay him a visit at home, something I couldn’t bring myself to do. I became paranoid with thoughts that he told someone, his parents perhaps, about what we did. This triggered in me bouts of panic attack. If he had done this, then I was neck-deep in trouble. I was going to, at the very least, get a nasty ass-whooping from my father, among other punishments. The last time my dad caned me, I wondered if I was truly his son – and that was for accidentally breaking a glass tumbler. I didn’t need to fathom what he would to me if he got wind of this. With Nnamdi unavailable, it was difficult to put my mind at rest. Every moment felt like a day, and every minute seemed an eternity. Each day I didn’t see or hear from him, I feared the worst.

It took another week before I would eventually see Nnamdi. It was one of those days when the weather was indecisive as it was both rainy and sunny at the same time. I heard a knock on the door and opened to see a drenched Nnamdi standing at our threshold. I hadn’t seen him in two weeks but it looked like he’d added some weight. I noticed a shrub of beards on his chin as he stood strong and tall like Goliath from the bible. Fearfully, I looked beyond him to see if he was alone. He was and I exhaled in relief. It was a quiet moment, the tension palpable and the silence uneasy. The expression on his face suggested he was unsure of his next line of action but after what felt like a lifetime, he finally spoke.

He wanted us to be alone.

We stole to that same unused room behind my house. Alone and shielded from the sight of anyone in my house, I bolted the door and turned around to face him. Nnamdi charged towards me. In that brief moment, I felt a leap of fear in my heart and almost tripped over some old furniture as I stepped back from what I thought was his attack. His face was hard and his eyes cold. As he advanced on me, I took in a deep breath and braced myself for combat. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, swallowed some saliva and clenched my fists in anticipation. If this was what I thought it was, then I was ready for it. For him.

But who was I kidding? I knew this would not be a fight. Nnamdi would give me a sound beating. When he drew even closer to me, my knees began to wobble. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by his physical architecture and started to regret my decision to engage him in a fight.

However, he didn’t attack me. He merely stretched out his hands and pulled me into an embrace. He squeezed me tightly with his huge and muscular arms forcing me to relax my fists. His body was wet from the rain, but his hug provided warmth. He had an awful musky odour that soured the air before my nose, but it didn’t repel me too much. At first it was all confusing and I wasn’t catching on, but after some moments, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back. It felt surreal holding him so close.

Our embrace lasted a while as we stayed glued to one another, the tranquility in the room interrupted only by our hushed breaths.

And then he touched me.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Orobo Hunter