WHERE THERE’S A WILL

I wasn’t in the mood to even have penetrative sex. I had gone to meet him in the guest house where he’d be lodging for the short period he’d be in Abuja only because he sounded really good over the phone, was quite engaging in his chats and had sent a presentable face picture.

But sex wasn’t on my mind, let alone penetrative sex – and least of all, penetrative sex one where I’d be the one taking the D, something I’ve been finding quite distressing to do for a while now.

His dick didn’t even help his case. With a helmet-shaped head that looked better as an artifact than a potential ass-plunger, the 10 inch shaft and slight curve, everything about his intentions spelt impossible.

But this Hausa nigga wasn’t going to let me refuse in peace.

He kept trying to turn me over while we were making out.

Me: Can you stop that? What are you doing?

Push. Push. Grunt. Grunt.

Me: I said stop it!

I slapped at his hand and tried to get up, but with his whole body on mine and all his attention focused on what he was trying to do, it was seeming impossible. The first flutter of fear began to rise from the pit of my stomach.

Him: Stop struggling. Just turn let me fuck you, please.

Like what the fuck!?

Me: Because it’s Swahili I’ve been speaking since, eh? I said I don’t even want to have sex, not to talk of getting topped.

Him: Please. Why are you doing this? You’ve made me hard. I have to get in there.

Inukwa!

Me: I’m sorry, that’s not your personal vehicle which you can just get into as you please. I said no. Could you stop trying to flip me over? You’re creeping me out.

I pushed him off of me with all my strength and sat up on the bed. I couldn’t even process what was happening. Here was a thoroughly-educated man trying to do what? Force his way with me?

He inched closer.

Him: Please, babe. Okay, I’ll let you fuck me afterwards.

I turned and glared at him. Then I rose from the bed and made to leave. He began begging, throwing his hands up in supplication.

Him: Okay. I won’t try it again.

Me: You know what you tried doing is rape. You know that, right?

He laughed.

Him: How? I was persuading you, not forcing my way. Besides, nothing happened.

Me: Yeah, because I didn’t let it. And just so you know, persuasion is basically oral. When you include physically trying to have your way, insistent moves to flip me over, that’s not just persuasion. And it’s disturbing.

Him: Okay, I’m sorry. I am sorry. You just got me so horny.

Me: That doesn’t justify trying to have your way with me despite my express refusal. Don’t, just don’t. Besides, I didn’t notice any condoms. Do you even have any condoms with you?

He didn’t have any condoms. At least, I hadn’t seen any. Only an open Vaseline on the stand beside the bed.

And he’d been wanting to penetrate me?! The silliness!

Him: I don’t have condoms, but that’s OK. You look clean. Fresh. I know you are fine.

Ewoo! See daft presumption na!

And dear brothers, that was when I finally resolved to leave.

There’s nothing I won’t see. So people can “look” STD-free? I can only imagine the buckets of diseases he has acquired along the route of his sexual history with that kind of mentality.

Written by Delle