Sex and Lagos City

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Summary

Lagos is West Africa's busiest city. You think you know what’s going on, but, I guarantee, you don’t. A woman drags her husband to court while the Governor's son fights for his right to love. Lagos. The fieriest, ritziest, most reckless realm of profligates. It is 2014. Bode Ross savagely possesses his wife - Asa. The State takes him to court - and things are about to get filthy. Until the sexy, smart and beautiful Wura - a Senior Advocate - appears from the blue to defend Bode. But Wura has a motive - a stone to kill many birds: Get vengeance, vengeance and vengeance. And she'll do anything to get it. But she cannot control the future. She enters Governor Victoria's book; and Governor Victoria will do anything to change her son's sexual orientation.

Genre:
Erotica / Mystery
Author:
Success Akpojotor
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
14
Rating:
3.0 3 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

I Want to Bang You Till the End of the World

TONIGHT I WANT IT. I need it. Your bristols. Your cunt. Your P juice. Hard…” Bode was saying to Asa at the top of his voice so that the neighbors could hear after he slammed her against the green-tiled floor of their kitchen.

His heart had pumped blood to his waist region as his penis became almost nine inches- it was fighting its way out of his spotless white Benjamin Gold underpants. He smelled Theorema Uomo and his bald head was shining under the ambient lighting.

“Bode!” She shouted as Bode mounted her and ripped her of her blue Tiffany Amber sleeveless gown.

Her bra was next, and then her pink G-string followed.

It’s time for the little drama we’ve been discussing.” Bode was whispering “I told you I’d descend on you like a thief. Didn’t I?” His almost rock mass weight was pressing against her, and her breasts were gasping for breath.

Her nipples had become firm, “Bode th-”

He buried his tongue in her mouth, and she tasted his menthol lozenge. She was not going to struggle for Bode was a Man of Steel in bed, a Mike Tyson such that she always looked forward to their missionary position sessions that she had enjoyed for almost sixty-two days.

His rock-hard penis was already announcing its presence in her thigh region.

He licked her ears and blew air into it, and sucked her nose and then her nipples.

Her breasts, he tweaked them mercilessly like he was trying to deflate a fat air-filled balloon.

His mouth returned to hers, and sucked her lips as if they had been soaked in sweet wine for days.

As he sucked her lips, his pollex and index fingers poked to and fro into her already wet cunt. They were reaching her clitoris.

“Sweet Asa”- His fingers continued to fuck her- “You’re going to have a good plot. This is what rape feels like.”- He whispered.

“Bode! Bode! Bode! Bode!” She said at the top of her voice so that their neighbors would come to her rescue.

“You’re already wet!” His head transferred to her cunt. It was as if a nozzle was draining it.

Then his black penis made its journey into moist areas and began to fuck her.

With her finger nails she began scraping his back all to no avail- but he just would not stop. Pain and pleasure had set in.

“You still haven’t shaved…your hairs are coarse and I’m so loving it.” His waist was thrusting in and out. He was banging her without pity. She was on the fence. Between bliss and pain

Tempo increased. With each thrust the fucking got harder and merciless.

AHHHHHH!’ She was groaning, smiling and crying.

“I’m going to have a blast per…for…mance to…night.” He whispered. “And I’m going to get…a plaque tonight…cer…tain of…it…and yoo…ooo…our plot will be hell…uva.” He whispered lower this time.

Then he turned her so that her back was to him, and planted his cock in her rear. She thought her sphincter muscles were going to be racked. He continued to fuck her. Gently and then harder and gently again.

“Bode!” She was already crying, aloud.

“I’d soon cum. I can …feel it! Hold…on! Your…ass…is…su…gar. Sugar is still…sweet.” He said out loud she was sure their neighbor could hear.

He continued to bang her ass. Harder than he fucked her cunt. He was still squeezing her breasts while her back was still to him.

Oh…oh…ahhh…nghhnhh…” She was moaning in joy and anguish. Pleasure and pain.

Her world whirled, spanned and spun before warm thick fluid pumped in cuts, like premium motor spirit struggles to run out when caught up in a nozzle, into her arsehole.

“God you’re good. Your shit hole is tight…virgin from behind.”- He passed his tongue over her flesh-coated spine- “Sweet” – and then got up from her. “Chapter one would be perfect.”- He whispered.


It was drizzling as she drove under the dark sky which vomited colorless droplets on her windscreen. The droplets reminded her of the watery semen gushing out of the limp cocks of the old politicians she had had one-offs with, and who thought they could still perform like when they were young, healthy and free. She regretted those moments. She wanted to puke because their seminal fluid tasted like a caustic soda and raw egg mixture.

Chic’s I Want Your Love sang from a Samsung mobile phone that hid in the sat nav of the white SUV that was snaking its way out of Obalende. She wondered if any of her old male politician friends was horny. She wanted to say NO to the invite. She was tired of limp cocks of weak old moneybags. Especially the seventy-two-year-old senator she inadvertently brought about his unconsciousness in bed months ago, at the Sheraton.

She had tied him to the bed and fucked him. He fainted while his huge but limp man-pike was pushing up cum. Lucky enough for Nigeria that he did not die. There was hope that at least a radical government may take power in 2015 and force politicians his kind to return the billions of dollars that they have stashed in Swiss and the Cayman.

The feminine right hand was on the steering wheel as the left hand adorned with Chris Aire rings on the middle and index fingers took the phone and married it to her left ear.

“Oh, my God!” She sighed, “You’re not a man. What is it?” She said with disappointment lurking on her face. “Will I ever cum again?”

“My family and reputation are about to crumble. Please doctor, we need to see.”

“I feel I’m more of a lawyer today. Where are you?”

“Ikeja.”

“What are you doing on the Mainland?”

“You need to help me, Beulah, Adelaja and my stupid husband.”

“You know what? Write me the whole shit on Whatsapp. I’m driving my husbandless self to my Federal Palace Hotel suite. That place where our dear country signed her Declaration of Independence. I need to get there in a hurry. It’s been long I cum on my own.”

“See,” the feminine voice sobbed “you ha-”

She cut in “Pastor, I’m driving. Whatsapp it to me. It’s been like forever since I cum with my finger.” She hung up.

My finger can be more erect than Senator Lasisi’s lame small pin he calls a dick!


It was still drizzling in Victoria Island on Thursday, July 3, 2014.

Bode Ross had left before Asa Ross made a 7411-emergency call.

Twenty minutes came and went before Area A of the Nigeria Police Force stationed at Ahmadu Bello way, responded to the scene.


Ralph Awolowo, Lagos State Governor’s son, was at The Place on Adeola Odeku Street with Bryan. It was a Slam Night exclusively for Erotica Poetry. The Place was all gay and lively with ladies in bum shots that revealed thighs of all shapes, sizes and complexions; and brassiere that had revealed upright bristols that would make the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Lagos reconsider his stance towards celibacy.

Ralph and Bryan ate asun (Yoruba roast spicy goat meat) and prawn rice while the ladies that sat with them on their table were drowning in cyclones of smoke that emanated from sticks of Benson & Hedges. They refused to smoke in the smoking area provided at the balcony. They wanted to be close to Ralph and his friend. They thought the duo would dig them.

Omawunmi Megbele’s Warn Yourself that was playing on the background from a Disc Jockey’s computer had begun to die down when two men in attention-getting Ankara entered the entertainment hub and sat near the table of Ralph and Bryan as the poet of the moment, a young lad in his early twenties, stepped up to the microphone. When the applause faded away, he announced the title of his poem.

“Let Us Fuck Like the Pigeons”.

The poet invaded with a remarkable opening for his sonnet written in the Shakespearean style. In his poem, he warns his lover that their sex life no longer carries fire because of familiarity. He argues that contempt has been bred in their relationship. Though, he doesn’t state the sex of his lover, he grabbed the attention of the whole hub at The Place.

The poet continued. That he wants to descend unexpectedly on his lover like a pigeon tries to fuck the other pigeon on the branch of a coconut tree. He says he wants the fights and unending wings’ flaps that make it seem like cumming would be impossible.

In the third verse of his Shakespearean sonnet, the bird starts to fuck the other bird on the coconut branch that seems breaking is inevitable for it and just when the bird perching on the neck of the other bird is about to shriek in orgasm, the other bird flies away. He says he enjoys it when his cock is left disappointed in the middle of an adventure. He makes it clear that everyday he will see his lover as a new face.

The last two lines of his Shakespearean sonnet saw him stretching his hand towards his audience as he said:

“Let us fuck like the mobile pigeons.

“Let us not be like an orgy of motionless effigies.”

They loved the poet. They gave him applause and an ovation. Ralph and Bryan were having a hard-on. Bryan whispered into Ralph’s ear that he would wait in the car but Ralph insisted that they listen to another poet.

A buxom lady mounted the platform and introduced her poem.

“Men Seed”.

She launches her poem with an imagery of a sweet fat orange-colour carrot in her mouth. She says it’s like meat which she can neither chew nor swallow. She wishes she can eat it. She detests the fact that the seed cannot grow in her so that she can have more of it when the sweet fat orange-colour carrot is not available. She says she wants more of the men seed and that she wants it to grow.

She ended her cinquain and the dudes in the hub were stricken with silence. Not because they were not aroused but because of the figurative lustre of her poem that they were unable to decipher in a hurry.

“Men seed!” somebody whispered in the dead silence as the voluptuous poet dismounted the platform.

Bryan’s heart was still pumping more blood to his wiener.

The next bard was a professor of Microbiology at the University of Lagos. An old lad with gray hairs that he was proud of. The sixty-year old widower stepped up to the microphone. Audience was disappointed and not expecting much from a man whose cock may be limp as fried overripe plantain. He announced the title of his poem.

“Sex is Living”.

He began his epigram with his wife and he having sex in the shower. He recalls that he was once young and could fuck on all the styles that even this new generation cannot imagine. He tells of how he and his wife got laid on the altar of their church only for their pastor to watch them like a sex-starved voyeur after an all-night prayer session.

He tells of how he was fucking his wife in the bathtub and she hit her head against the white tiled wall that turned red. He tells of how he refused to report his wife’s corpse but continued banging the bathroom carnage. He says the deceased are more submissive. He alludes his experience to the title of his poem that “Sex is Living”.

There were no claps from the audience and the judges had all given him threes. He walked down the platform as the audience prayed for something lively and delectable.

Bryan was next. Ralph was taken aback.

Bryan announced the title of his poem.

“I Want to Bang You Till the End of the World”.

He begins by saying how he will rip his lover’s clothes and gently bite his lover’s nipples. He concealed his lover’s sex like the first bard. He explains how he will hang his lover against the wall and give his lover a holy banging. He says he wants to hear his lover cry in his ears.

The next verse explains how he likes the redness and cleanliness of his lover’s orifice. He promises to be gentle when his cock is inside his lover. He promises to strafe harder when his lover gives the order.

He promises to fuck and fuck until the Messiah returns. He promises to kiss his lover in the ass and mouth. He promises to keep his cock only for his lover. His last line was ‘I want to bang you till the end of the world’.

Shouts and shouts. Everyone including the judges had become horny. Bryan had curried eight, nine and ten from the judges and crushes from the audience. Some had already stripped him of his clothes in their minds. Some had already opened their legs and backside hole in their heads but were yet to reach orgasm.

Another poet stepped up to the microphone when Bryan walked out of the hub after he signaled Ralph with an eye wink that he would be in the car waiting.

The poet announced her poem’s title.

“Let Me Bite You in the Dark”.

“Really?” the male folks shouted as the two men in Ankara walked out of the hub.

“Push me against the wall,” she began her free verse as dead silence went everywhere as the judges were wondering if she deserved a ten.

“Wet me with oil from Zion,

“Let us swap roles,

“Mistress now, master later,

“Make me see heaven.”

Outside in the parking lot with the sky that was still crying, one of the two men brought out a hypodermic syringe and pushed propofol into a vein on Bryan’s neck. He went under and they carried him away.

Ralph walked out to the parking lot, where drizzle drops hit his head repeatedly, to meet Bryan but he was gone. He dialed Bryan from his iPhone.

Repeated no answers greeted Ralph.


Asa Ross was naked inside an examination room in The Reddington Multi-Specialist Hospital at Idowu Martins Street. The examination room sent shivers down her spine as it had been almost donkey years since she was hospitalized for a critical condition- that was when she underwent an appendectomy, and she was only thirteen then.

Bunmi Oniga, a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner, or SANE, came in with a Physical Evidence Recovery Kit, or PERK, to examine Asa’s orifices and other body parts.

Asa was calm. The private areas of her body were about to become for public eyes, forensic specimen, and she did not mind. She was prepared for it like a woman that was on a mission.

“I know your pain. I’m feeling your shame”- Bunmi’s hands were wearing a pair of hand gloves- “For I know somebody who has treaded this path before. It was a gang rape. Three men plunged their large penises into her throat, anus and vagina simultaneously. I’m still wondering ’til date how and why she didn’t die.” She started to take photographs of Asa from various angles before she got her colposcope ready for when it would be ready for use.

“Time and faith will heal all wounds”- Bunmi opened the PERK- “where did your assailant touch you?”

“Everywhere.”

’He kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“Surface or French?”

“Both.”

“He caressed your breasts?”

“No. He squeezed them.”

“Did he do an intercrural?”

“Pardon?”

“Did he attempt penetrating the artificial orifice of your closed thighs?”

“I can’t really say,” Asa was cautious “But his penis was on my thighs.”

“I’ve been twenty-one years as a nurse, five years as a forensic nurse.” Bunmi was seducing Asa into accepting a fact that her interrogations were professional and infallible “I’ve come across countless MOs of various rapists. Many a rapist seems to be cautious of AIDS so they coerce their victims into stripping and only for them to penetrate in between the thighs.”

A thesis on Rape was one of the things that Asa may not have really needed at the moment and Bunmi did not know it.

“He entered your vagina?” Bunmi resumed her evidence collection.

“Yes.”

“Just his penis?”

“And fingers.”

“He employed the use of any other object?”

“No.”

“He penetrated your anus?”

“Yes-” Asa sighed- “He penetrated me mercilessly…and I feel like the pains won’t go until forever.”

“Have you ever made love through your back before this assault?”

“No.”

Bunmi collected a swab from the PERK and swabbed Asa’s lips and mouth and saved it in an envelope.

She asked her to lie on the examination table after which she swabbed her breasts and thighs; then with a colposcope the vagina was photographed before it was swabbed.

“Please turn around with your back to me.” Asa received another instruction.

Asa turned before she was swabbed. With a comb from the PERK she collected hairs which had been deposited in her anus and back.

Another instruction and Asa sat.

Bunmi retrieved a nail pick with which she collected debris that Asa’s finger had scraped.

Asa remained calm- “Is there any point collecting these evidences?”

Bunmi was looking for injuries, “Of course yes…What I want to tell you now…I’ve never told anyone.”

“What is it?” Asa inquired.

“Promise me it would be a secret you will never tell. Not even at gunpoint.”

“I promise.” Asa said.

Bunmi swallowed spittle, “Twenty-five years ago is still fresh. This science hadn’t arrived this part of the world as of the time I was assaulted. I believe that the trinity of rapists who raped me would have been identified and brought to book. They assaulted me in my throat, vagina and anus.

“It still pains me that the evil trinity still walks the streets free. They must have moved on to rape other women. And God save the trees without enough sap.”

“So, it was you who were assaulted?” Asa said

“My point is if that gang rape was done now, the trinity of rapists would have been fished out…simply by testing their deposits for DNA...” Bunmi caught herself. She was still in bondage. The bondage of twenty-five years ago.

Asa pretended to be drained “Your situation and mine are very varying. I know my assailant.”- Asa swallowed spittle “They’ve gone to arrest him…and I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“Of course, you are. You’ve made this forensic examination easy and fruitful. He can’t deny. By his fruits, he shall be fished out. Trial would be snappy. The judge won’t sweat to deliver a verdict. I wish the legislature would amend our penal codes and make rape’s consequence a death penalty.”

Asa scoffed, “Not when the perpetrator is my husband.”

“Your husband?”

“We’ve been married sixty-two days.” Asa’s eyes shut themselves.

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