==THE STORY THAT HAS NEVER BEEN TOLD== #18 RATED A COOLVAL22¤COM PRODUCTION. DO NOT COPY!! Episode 77: The burial of my grandma was fixed on Friday 26th of March, 2010. Consequently, I began planning on how to journey to my village from school. Even though our exams were fast approaching and demands much attention from me I felt my presence at the burial would be the last and ultimate respect deserving of a loving grandma who had my name on her lips as she drew her last breath. It was on the week of her supposed burial that the realities of her departure became real to me. It was at that point I began to understand the significance of death. ”So I won’t get to see my grandma again for life after her burial?” the thought kept ringing in my head. It did tried to weigh me down but I quickly readjusted my mind. Allowing depression to take hold of me at this period might be detrimental to my academics. As a personal way of fighting depression I quickly reached for my phone, scrolled down through the contacts and located ”Ifeoma”. She picked the call at first ring. I had wanted to invite her for a day or two. I know her presence, not necessarily her actions, will help uplift my spirit. Yes, Ifeoma is not really much of a lively personality. She is always calm and reserved whenever she came around and that made me to conclude her to be an introvert. Even though I like her introvert nature but I still wished she was a little more lively. I am an introvert who enjoys solitude and having a partner who shares same character certainly will make the relationship unlively, boring, unexciting, unadventurous and finally uninteresting. During the course of the call she told me of her proposed visit to Enugu the coming week. I pleaded with her to make it within the present week. I even asked her to accompany me to my gandma’s burial in the village. I never was serious with the ‘travel with me’ request. I only said it with little seriousness in my heart. I had wanted to make her feel her importance in my life by pretending to want to take her along with me to the burial where I’m certain many relations, friends, church members and even our pastor will be present. Such offer, even though most girls of her age will turn it down, certainly will pass a message of importance to the girl. For him to invite you to such event and knowing the magnitude of expected guests and possible consequences of such action are sure proof that you mean so much to him. Ain’t it so my ladies? After a few seconds of silence, surprisingly, Ifeoma agreed to follow me home to a journey that will most likely have us spend 3 or 4 days in the village. . ”I think you will need me this period. At least, I will stand with a handkerchief by your side to help dry your tears whenever you cry,” Ifeoma joked. ”It will also be an opportunity for me to know your people and your village,” she continued. ”Wait a sec, ‘know my people?’… E be like this babe don dey package herself unto my future wife level,” I reasoned. There’s absolutely nothing wrong in me marrying Ifeoma but I most certainly won’t want her placing all her hopes on me believing that she’s already my chosen wife. Even though I have it at heart to marry you if it works out I still won’t promise you marriage when it’s yet to work out and so won’t like to be hoped upon. ‘Work out’ as highlighted above entails all but not limited to my readiness and willingness to get married at that time, our emotional, psychological, biochemical and sekxual compatibilty et cetera. ”Errm, okay, no problem if you think you can make it,” I replied her with much uncertainty in my tone. ”We will travel on thursday and return on sunday,” I told her believing the length of days will scare her away. ”Okay na… in that case I will come to my aunty’s place in Enugu on wednesday before coming to your house on thurday morning,” Ifeoma concluded. . ”Chei, na so I use my own mouth carry put myself for wahala be dis? Dem talk say my grandma die and I wan carry woman go her burial. Wetin people go even think of me self? And na only 5k dey my hand both home (pocket) and abroad (bank),” I mourned not for my dead grandma but for myself. . True to her words, Ifeoma showed up at my door on Thursday morning the 25th of March, 2010. She was beautifully dressed in a red flower gown worn on a black leggings that stretched a little below her knee. I was already dressed and waiting for her to show up so we can together leave for the motor park but on a second thought I decided to spend a few minutes with her indoors. The leggings was very instrumental to my sudden change of plans even though we were already running late. Ifeoma’s masterpiece ‘calabash’ as$ was seductively accentuated by the tight fitting leggings she wore. Without wasting further time I quickly dragged her inside my room like a hungry lion would do to a lost antelope wandering in front of the lion’s den. She gave out a seductive smile which showed she really understood the effects her dressing was having on my hormones. I bolted the door behind her as I helped myself out of my clothes. There was no time to get totally undressed. I held her waist while still standing, drew her close to me as our lips magnetically locked in passionate kiss. My hands ran from her waist down to her as$. I grabbed both mounds with my hands before pushing them up in a gesture that helped have her pelvis pressed against my groin. The smoothness of the fabric was also giving me its own effects. I allowed my hands to find their way into her bare as$ through her waistline while still savouring her lips. She pushed me a little away from her before helping her self out of the leggings. With her gown still on we climbed onto the bed and continued with our romance. Not long I was pumping away like a bulldog on heat. The urgency required of us to finish and the half-clothedness brought a different feeling to the sekx altogether. Within a few minutes I felt I was approaching climax and so I immediately withdrew and allowed my load to freely shoot on the floor. We fell down exhausted. It was a wonderful quickee. A memorable one! . We immediately went and took our bath. It was at that point I noticed she had made a beatiful hair. She fixed a weavon; I think it’s choice weavon. The weavon was braided into one big braid and packed to one side above her shoulder. She looked beautiful. We dressed up and took our bags to the front of the house where we waited for a bus to convey us to Gariki park along Agbani Road in Enugu City. The memorable journey had just begun…
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 10:14:31 +0000
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