THE MAN WHO IS NOT MY MAN

That first day, the storm was roaring its disapproval and thundering like my father’s voice raised just before he slams his fist hard on a table or a nearby door, the living room table suffering the most abuse. The wind was not any kinder, whistling past, pulling me backward like gravity working sideways, tugging at the edges of my slightly oversized Ankara that I had chosen to wear out that day, regardless of the fact that my Google Assistant had warned me that morning about a pending thunderstorm. The wind pulled like it wanted to drag me back home.

The rain didn’t start until I was alighting from a taxi, about to hop into a keke that would take me to the bus stop closest to his house. I had the address punched into my Google Maps and I was being directed by coordinates and a dot indicating my location. The Assistant’s voice was also in my ears through my earphones, giving directions on which turns to make, and the driver was moving accordingly as if he too was listening to the Google lady. It calmed me to see that my technology was confirming the driver’s movement, so the worry of getting kidnapped was not there. I always fear for my security every single time I step out my house, especially when I am going for a hook-up in an unfamiliar vicinity.

But as the rain sluiced down the sides of the keke, I worried for my phone, wondering how I would protect it from getting damaged by all the wetness. The rain was pouring down as though the Universe was enraged; I dare say the storm had been angered that I’d stubbornly set out to meet this man against all the elements. It pelted my head, my face, my body as I ran down the tarred road after I was dropped by the keke driver. I was drenched within seconds.

My eyes scanned the area quickly for the intersection on the left, a tarred driveway with a blue-and-white gate. Those had been his directions, and I found it and ran all the way through. Past the security men in their little station, who were too comfortable in their dry clothes to want to step out to head off my entrance. The third gate on the left, a silver gate, guarded the house I knew to be my destination. Maneuvering my phone out of my pocket, I dialed his number, and stood, willing it to ring. At this time, I was so drenched, down to my underpants, that I was worrying about how I would get home in damp clothes.

Moments later, he was unlocking the gate, and he let me in, under his umbrella. He held me close to his body with his arm around my waist, as he led me into his house. It wasn’t the main house; we went around to the back and through a door on the same building. It was a semidetached compartment, attached to the main house through a door in the hallway.

Once inside, I could now snatch a proper view of the man I’d come to see.

Tega.

His pictures had not done any justice to him. I had scored him a 6, but right now, in his presence, I could see that he was a solid 10. While I’d seen something of a fat man in the photos he sent me, I could now see that he was more thick than fat, with every pound solid instead of flabby. And he was tall, almost as tall as I am, about 6 ft to my 6 ft 3 inches.

He took off the T-shirt he was wearing, which was now wet, revealing his man0boobs to me. The prints on his sweatpants, much to my slight frustration, wasn’t suggesting anything about the nature of his manhood, and I fought hard not to act on the impulse to grab at his crotch to satisfy my curiosity. It would be awkward to expose myself as a size queen in the first five minutes of our meeting.

He took my wet clothes and walked out of the room to take care of them. He was back in a few minutes, walking over me to unexpectedly steal two quick kisses. He grinned at the surprise on my face, and I smiled back. We were now chatting as he led me to the bathroom for me to take a hot shower.

After my shower, there was no time to waste. It was on to the most spectacular sex I’d ever had right away.

We started off kissing, groping at each other, while he grabbed on to my derriere and repeatedly moaned his appreciation of my bubble butt. When he shucked off his boxers, I enjoyed the minor heart attack the size of his dick made me suffer. Then the heat of the moment possessed us and we started snatching at each other ferociously, just before he scooped me off the floor. Me! As tall as I am, I was made to feel petite in his big arms as he hefted me to the bed. He spread my legs apart like the Y on the Nigerian Coat of Arms and went straight to work on my gloryhole with his tongue. It was the first rimming job I’d ever had, and the sensation of it sank inside me, from my chute right through my stomach, straight up my spine, setting fire to my sensory neurons all the way to my head where it set off mini fireworks. The thunder roared its reservation when deciding it was time, I splayed my legs apart and welcomed him deep inside me. I bucked my hips up to meet his thrusts, urging him to go deeper. To bust his way through that diaphragm. To glide through my chest with his enormous dick. In those fevered moments, I didn’t care how deep he was going, how hard he was pounding, how loud my moans were getting, how my sweat had soaked through the bed sheets despite the chill of the storm raging outside.

He was the best I’d ever had. And I had him over and over for well over three hours, before we climaxed.

Only after we had exhausted our passions did we talk. Tega and I confessed our fondness for each other. Maybe it was the after effects of the great sex he’d given me that was controlling my affections. Maybe not. But in those moments, he was my most favorite person in the world. And I – it would seem – his. But he had a boyfriend, he said, who was studying abroad. It was an open relationship. So basically, all he did outside his relationship were random fucks.

He was also a romantic, something I hadn’t imagined a thirty-two-year-old man from a privileged background such as him would be. He swept me off my feet again, cradling me to his body as he took us to the bathroom, where he proceeded to bathe me very tenderly. After our shower, he toweled me, before giving me warm clothes to put on. And while I changed the sheets on his bed, he made something for us to eat. Not those cereal quickies, no. He made spaghetti and French fries, with freshly blended juice, and his culinary skills were divine.

When the rain eventually stopped, he drove me home in his orange-and-black Lexus 350, and although I tried to reject his money offer, he squeezed the cash into my reluctant palm. As a material boy, I didn’t want to refuse the money because I had no need for it. Far from that. I had realised that I liked him and didn’t want the time we’d spent together to feel like a transaction.

But hey, who says no to ten thousand naira? In these hard times that Buhari has brought upon us. And I still got to keep the clothes he lent me to wear – a Nike sweater and divinely tailored sweatpants. These must surely cost a bundle, and here I was, having them for free. As I walked the rest of the way home, I felt very smug in my defiance of the rainstorm that had wanted to keep me from going for this hookup.

Days passed, and I could still feel some spasmic twitching in my butt, like a dick is still in there. Even painkillers couldn’t effectively dull the ache of Tega’s penile presence in my ass. I stopped getting on bikes, especially because bouncing along on bad roads made the seats slam against my sensitive asshole in very uncomfortable ways.

It would be a couple of weeks later before he called for us to see again. This time, he asked that I spend the night. It was a very memorable night, affording us enough time for us to do it all. Butterfly, Wheelbarrow, 69, Monkey on the tree, Riding hood, Missionary, Cowgirl – you name it and we did it. All night till the early hours of the next day, when we finally lay, vegging out on the lush taupe Bohemian rug on the dark marble of his floor, stroking each other’s sensitive parts.

It was then he said, “Do you want to be my boyfriend till my boyfriend gets back?”

What a proposition! I was instantly torn. Of course, I wanted to his boyfriend, even beyond when his boyfriend returns. I didn’t want this to be temporary, to have an expiry date. But I also didn’t want to be the side chick either. This was a complication I could see a mile off. I wasn’t about to walk into it.

After some hesitation, I finally said, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it would be ideal. Let us just leave things as they are. Having fun and fucking and just generally enjoying each other’s company.”

“What if things get deeper between us than that?” he asked.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I replied.

He didn’t question me anymore on the issue. And we went on to do as I’d suggested: have fun, fuck and just generally enjoy each other’s company.

Tega and I were not always together, but when we were, we just could not have enough of each other. Sex all over his apartment, and he loved to spoil me with frequent shopping sprees. At the movies, we would steal kisses severally at the back where we liked to nestle and sucked each other’s cocks. One time, we kissed at a traffic stop in his car; there was not much to fear though as our clandestine affair was hidden by the tinted windows of his Lexus. These were the little risks we took, and we loved it. There was another time we went to a club with his friends and their boyfriends. At about 1 AM, he texted me to meet him by his car. I did, and we got into the backseat and proceeded to have a rather long quickie. It was the best sex I’d ever had in a confined space, and we drove home afterwards, because I was feeling too ruffled to go back into the club, what with my pheromones all over the place.

Tega and I never became boyfriends. We had fun. We cared about each other. But he had his man, and I had other men coming and going through my heart.

The first was Alex: a tall, athletic man with a job at a television station. He was a privileged brat who lived above his means. Clearly his parents’ money had him and his siblings set up for life. Alex would have been perfect, but for his insecurity issues. The need to constantly go through my phone and keep tabs on my movements. I stopped fucking with Tega when I met him and we decided to get serious, but Alex was just never comfortable with our friendship. Frequently warning me to stop communicating with Tega, otherwise he would go find him and “…break his ribs.” I laughed the first time he made this threat, especially because I could sooner imagine Tega crushing him to dust than I could imagine Alex ever meting out any harm on Tega.

Alex was also a bore sexually. Yes, he was gorgeous physically, but he made me feel deprived every time we had sex. There were occasions when I caught myself dozing off right in the middle of sex with him. This made me miss Tega a lot, and I often flirted with the option of cheating on Alex with him. I never did though.

However, Alex soon got busy. Too busy. It started with the work excuses. Then the calls that went unanswered and the dates that got cancelled. On some dates, the ones he didn’t remember to cancel, I got stood up. Talk began to get back to me of him getting spotted at different places with different guys, especially a boy with burgundy-tinted hair. I confronted him with what I’d been hearing. He did not exactly deny it. I was heartbroken.

Tega came to fetch me from my house after about a week of my being indoors, wallowing in the misery of my breakup. He wanted me to spend the weekend with him to get my mind off Alex. We took an NLNG cruise to Bonny Island, to a fancy hotel. We ate sea foods, watched tons of movies, fucked like wild animals in between, talked, and walked about the room naked. I had the time of my life, and by the time I went back home, thoughts of Alex had perished. Then, it was me and Tega again, having the time of our lives.

This lasted a couple of months, before Oliver came along. I fell for him, fancied myself in love with him, despite the fact that he was the least pleasant-looking man of all the men I’d been with, was prideful and persistently negative. He was very manipulative too, and not very good at it.

When I’d had enough of us zigzagging all over each other, I dumped him and went back to Tega. Things weren’t going good for Tega in his love life either; his boyfriend had begun to drift apart from him. He told me he had seen it coming for some time, but the reality of it happening hurt more than he imagined it would. I held him close to my chest as he talked through his pain, his hefty frame almost crushing my slender figure.

That night, we fucked, our passions as inexhaustible as they were the first time we met. I don’t know why we simply haven’t decided to be with each other. I may likely never date Tega; at this point, I like him way too much to risk what we have with the complications and drama of a relationship. Maybe, we are able to last and be so good to each other because we have kept the heavy stuff out of our relationship. And maybe, this will change. Maybe we will realize that we are what we need for each other. Maybe not.

For now though, we are just going to continue having fun, fucking and enjoying each other’s company.

Written by Peaches