Wheezdohm:
Nice start..i believe the writer and the story have promising zeniths if the writer doesnt abandon it..anyways kudos...and more updates to keep this thread lively
B)

Thanks. I will endeavor to update each week.

PROLOGUE

Her breasts had begun to ripe, and the expanded features of her face revealed signs of puberty. She could then speak of hips as oversized Cinderella dresses fitted properly. The dreaded day had been around the corner. It was bound to come.

She woke up one misty morning and had gone about her usual chores. And although between her legs felt sticky, she had paid no attention to it.

"Kamsi, bia eba! what is that I see on your shorts?" Chidera, her older sister had questioned.

"...is it what I suspect?" She asked further whilst inspecting the stained area. A touch of excitement had accompanied her tone.

Kamsi on the other hand hadn't been excited as the early arrival of the dreaded visitor had cost a lot: coming home later than six o'clock from tale telling with Amara  had become an offense, she had been stopped from playing out with the boys from other flats, because according to Mother, she had become a lady and ladies were meant to keep a reasonable distance from boys, - a fallacy she would later come to know - and no man was to touch her, not even as much as a tap, otherwise she was to scream.

"...if any man touches you, shouuuuuttt." were her mothers exact words. And she wondered if her father was a part of the flock.

But Mother had failed to tell her that by man she hadn't just meant grown up men with full grown moustache. But that she meant every being with a bulge in between his thighs. Including fourteen year old boys like Obinna.

Obinna, the beautiful boy with alluring blue eyes, keen and pointy nose, slightly plump pink lips, sleek black hair that curled, and a skin just like butter, had just moved into one of the flats with his parents. The other kids in the neighborhood had referred to him as oyinbo. But their mothers hadn't quite agreed with the oyinbo tag. Obinna's parents were both dark. They had no pointy nose, no pink lips, and no curly hairs. So these mothers had concluded that Obinna's mother may have cheated. Yes! That just had to be it.

"...ehh, but if that's true. Why does Mr Kalu still put up with her?" Mama Nkechi had asked. A hint of confusion plastered across her face. They had gathered in her small provision shop, clustered about a plastic table that stood just outside the shop. 

"Kai Mama Nkechi! How many times have we said this? She's certainly using some juju. Biko, stop dragging us back." Mama Kamsi had chided.

" I strongly agree with you. And that juju must be a very strong one. Because Mr Kalu showers both herself and Obinna with so much love." Concurred Nwanyi abor.

"Yes o my sister. You needed to see the expensive hollandis he got her yesterday. And the lucky witch brought it to my house to show me." whispered Mama Kamsi

They all roared in sarcastic laughter.

"You can imagine. And we with legitimate children find it hard to get one thousand naira from our husbands." stated Lady Gertrude, the missionary who had come from England and had now become a full indigene of Enugu.

"Abi o. Not to talk of expensive hollandis. Maybe we should ask her for some of that juju. Or better still, she should take us to her dibia" responded Nwanyi Abor.

Another round of laughter ensued.

Mama Nkechi not being so convinced, decided to speak up again.

"What if he's adopted?"

They had all quieted and turned to her as they processed the new piece of information.

"Mba Mba. I don't think so." Mama Kamsi countered after much deliberation.

"Why? I mean...that's the only thing that seems plausible."

"Yes you might be right." said Nwanyi Abor thoughtfully

"But err...where would they get an Oyinbo pikins flom? Amelikah?"

"Or maybe Engrand" added Lady Gertrude.

They laughed at the last bit of jokes. And with that they had dispersed, each woman falling back to her own flat.

It was on one of these gossip days that Kamsi had left the house in hopes of joining the other kids for mango hunting despite her Mother's warnings, and instead had bumped into Obinna. And there their story had begun. A story of dreams, love, and betrayal.

AUTHORS NOTE:
Thanks for reading. Healthy criticisms are very much welcome. Chapter One will be updated by Wednesday.

Nepenthe: plural Nepenthes

Anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, especially of sorrow or trouble.

Example: Ade was a nepenthe at the time when my life was shattering to pieces.

Can you make a sentence with nepenthe?

You stare at your naked figure in the mirror. You look just perfect. Wide perky breasts, a narrow waist, a rounded and firm derriere, and wide hips. Your flesh tuxedo is cleanly shaved and you are almost tempted to slide a finger or two in. You stop yourself. No. Tonight is for the hot Dr Femi. [/i]The corners of your eyes crinkle at your anticipation, and you fantasize having him inside of you, exploring the deep ends and taking you to paradise. These same ideas filled your thoughts the previous night, and you had orgasmed a trillion times whilst perusing pictures of his nine inch penis. The very ones he sent two nights ago when you first met on instagram.

[i]I just want to Bleep you. What would it cost? was what his direct message said accompanied with shots of his penis from different angles. Not the typical kind of direct message. But you were impressed. You liked it. And you played along.

Are you sure you can afford it?

Name your price.

100k for 2 hours.

Whoa! I find you worth more than that. So I'll give you 250k.

You contemplated your reply awhile before typing Day, place and time?

Saturday, the mangrove hotel, 10 p.m
was his immediate response

It's a date.

You were astounded at yourself. Had you just accepted going to Bleep a total stranger? Were you out of your mind? It's totally wrong, what were you thinking? Was it the money?

You kept questioning yourself without having any definite answers. You knew too well it wasn't the money, - at least your bank account made that glaring- it was something more. It was a desire, a hunger that needed to be quenched. Kola, your fiance, has been two months away and keeping to yourself wasn't an easy feat. And although you hate his offshore and onshore job, there's nothing you could possibly do about it. For pacification sake Kola did his best to satisfy you before and after each trip, and even got you intimacy gadgets which you helped yourself with on days like when Dr. Femi sent such alluring pictures.

You snap out of reverie and go about getting ready for the night. Your dress is a soft white bodycon, armless, cinched at the waist, and stops miles above the knee. Your hourglass figure well accentuated. Your shoes are the pair of Louboutin Kola got you for your last birthday, a seven inches stiletto, silvery, and with spikes. You keep the makeup mild with just your ruby woo lipstick and mascara. And your hair is packed in a bun. You glance at the mirror for the fourteenth time in five minutes and finally decide you look breathtaking.

As soon as you arrive his hotel suite, he grabs you into an intense kiss giving no time for hellos. You are startled but you love the urgency and you return his kiss in same intensity, driving away every sense of guilt. You let him feel you up. His touch rough. His love bites tingling. Causing your stomach to do flips. And everything in you screams for more. This is different from how you made love to Kola. There are no candlelights, neither are there any red roses, nor is there a soft music, save your quick uneven breaths, and now and then moans. But you prefer it still to the moments with Kola, whose gentle and conventional ways you never really appreciated.

As you are seated in the yellow cab headed home and reminiscing the previous night, –presumably feeling cheap and used, with no 250k because you had told him you weren't some hoe, and making resolves to never Bleep another man whose name isn't Kola –there's one thing you are most certain of: when next you will be making love to Kola it will be a lot easier getting to a climax because rather than see Kola, you will be seeing and feeling Dr. Femi.