temi4fash:

why you do I av dis feeling you a futarian...

lol. You might just be right on the money, you know!

...

Greeeeeeaaaaaat Futarian!!!! I hail you o!

Mutaino7:
A fellow futarian in da house.

...

Greeeeeeaaaaaat Futarian!!!! I hail you o!

nu-well:


...

Greeeeeeaaaaaat Futarian!!!! I hail you o!

Are u an ex or undergraduate cos am still an undergraduate.

Mutaino7:
Are u an ex or undergraduate cos am still an undergraduate.

Alumnus

Double post

nu-well:


Alumnus

5yrs no be beans bros i go soon join ur league soon and probably serve in adamawa and have a sweet xperience like PDude or kogi and be like Mazi. *No washimi*

Mutaino7:
5yrs no be beans bros i go soon join ur league soon and probably serve in adamawa and have a sweet xperience like PDude or kogi and be like Mazi. *No washimi*

Hmm... No comment on that one. Depends on what a sweet experience means to you. Good luck anyway

naptu2:

VIRGIN:

1) A person who's hymen is intact.

2) A person that has not had sex.

(Note that some girls are born without hymen, while some girls' hymen are broken during physical exercise. It is also possible to reconstruct the hymen via hymen reconstruction surgery).

WTF would any one want to do a hymen reconstruction surgery?! Dem take virginity collect money for bank?

naijababe:

WTF would any one want to do a hymen reconstruction surgery?! Dem take virginity collect money for bank?

It's usually because of the, "I want to marry a virgin", syndrome.

naptu2:

It's usually because of the, "I want to marry a virgin", syndrome.

Shallow mindedness of the highest order.

Life moved on. Even if Chilo had wanted the world to stand still as a result of the loss of her maidenhood, the world would have quietly ignored her wishes and moved on at its own pace. People were born, people died. There was peace and happiness in some lives, sorrow and battles in some, while for some others, it was a dreadful mixture of all. Wars in different forms were fought and won, and wars in different forms were fought and lost.

One of the wars being fought and lost was the one being fought by twenty-one year old Chilo Odigidawu. Ah yes, it seemed that the monster awakened many years ago by a certain child molester going by the name Prince, fed for a time by a most disgusting secret habit and an extremely parsimonious young banker named Fola, had finally found a mentor in Emmanuel. This monster, once unleashed, was completely out of Chilo’s control.

After that day when Emmanuel had come a’ visiting on the first week of the resumption, she began to meet with him on a regular basis. These meetings were usually characterised by little talk and a whole lot of se.xual activity. Chilo had reasoned that since she had lost what she had been guarding, what was the use of denying herself some of the pleasures that se.x could bring her?

However, after each activity, she hated herself and hated her ‘boyfriend’ more. Or perhaps she hated herself more, and hated him less . . . who knows? It was so confusing!

Many times she asked herself why she had let herself go in so shameless a manner. Mother would be so ashamed of her, especially if she could see her in those moments when she reluctantly serviced Emmanuel. He made her say really dirty words because, according to him, it spiced up the fun. She didn't know which was worse: the act itself or the dirty things she said. She felt horrible!

‘O please, how long did you possibly think your virginity could have lasted with the way you were carrying on? It was inevitable. You were loose, just admit!’

She had taken to berating herself while looking in the mirror. These days, when nobody was around, she would grab her trusty hand mirror and begin to speak aloud to herself. She would look intently into the deeply reflective surface, after scrubbing it with talcum poweder till it gleamed and begin to move her lips.

‘O you look so pretty; fair one . . . Pretty and rotten! Look at your lips, you used those lips to do nasty, nasty, nasty things yesterday, remember? Will you use those same lips to praise and worship God? Out of your mouth issues bitter and sweet waters. You better not, you hypocrite!’

The devil, the bible says, is the accuser of the brethren. Chilo didn’t wait for the devil to accuse her; she did all the accusing without his help.

Outwardly she remained the same old Chilo that people knew: calm, studious, a bit reserved and spiritual. The only difference was she had started wearing trousers. Trousers fitted her perfectly, and flattered her figure to the fullest. When asked why she had suddenly started what she had hitherto considered anathema, she simply shrugged and said, “If you don’t change in UNILAG, you will never change anywhere”.

This statement was true in a certain way. She had a friend, a girl named Deborah who was from the department of History who came to her department to take some elective courses. When Deborah had first gained admission in 100 level, she went around with her hair bonded in shiny black rubber threads and the most atrocious looking skirts, made worse by the fact that she was fat and had the flattest buttocks on this side of the continent. She was quite a sight. In UNILAG, students who did ‘kiko’ as this hairstyle is called, were the SU types who never wore ear rings, were garbed in blouses with shoulder pads and pleated skirts which seemed to have been mass produced in a factory. Deborah wore shiny grandma earrings, big skirts with long slits at the sides that helped to emphasise the pancake-like flatness of her derriere and shoes that looked like she had stolen them from her mother’s wardrobe. And of course, the infernal ‘kiko’ on her head completed her outlandish appearance. Since Deborah was neither SU nor a typical UNILAG chic, people did not quite know where to place her. However, as time wore on, Deborah joined the ranks of weave-on fixing, trouser clad girls one saw in every nook of UNILAG even till this day. When teased, Deborah would grin crookedly and say that change was a part of life.

The changes in lifestyle experienced by Chilo was unpalatable, to say the least. As Deborah, who could be very foul mouthed when she set her mind to it, always said, life was a ‘shi*t pit’ and Chilo was experiencing it first-hand. Deborah also said that life was what one made of it. Chilo was not sure she agreed with that philosophy. She hadn’t asked to be molested as a child. The molestation had laid the seeds of lust in her heart. The seeds had slowly germinated, manifesting in various forms, and now, it was at full bloom.

She often wondered if she was shifting blame away from herself. Yes, she had been molested, but did that mean that she should be loose with men? Did it mean that she should accept dates from strange men and even allow them touch her? Maybe it was psychological. Deep down, she felt that if she allowed them touch her in her private places, they would like her more and at the end of the date, part with a substantial amount for ‘transport’. It was a pathetic excuse for her waywardness, but an excuse nonetheless.

But that didn’t explain her puzzling attraction to Emmanuel. When she had gone past the soft voice, the long lashed eyes, sensual lips and the gentle exterior, she discovered a very rotten soul which was polluting hers by the day. He had admitted to her that he knew he was no longer the Emmanuel that he used to be; the Emmanuel who had preached and won souls for Christ.

He made this admission one afternoon after a session. He lay languidly, stroking one bruised and tingling bosom. He was satisfied and it put him in a talkative mood.

“I don’t know what happened to me. I was a preacher, one of the most vibrant in the Kingdom hall. When I preached, everyone listened. People were touched. But nowadays, I don’t know what is happening to me. Last Sunday, when I was called upon to preach, I almost cried because I didn’t feel that old fire in me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. When I was in Warri, immediately I entered a bus, I don’t waste time before I start evangelising. No matter how short the distance is, I must put in one or two words to encourage people. When I came to Lagos, things started happening, and the next thing I know, the fire started going down.” He broke off and sighed gloomily. “I know I am a sinner, and every day I ask God to forgive me.”

“You grew up in Warri?”

He gave her a sidelong glance and grinned. “Yes na. I be proper waffi boy. Waffiobakted pikin”

“I bet you were in the choir too” Chilo commented disdainfully. He didn’t notice her tone of voice, but instead chuckled and intensified his stroking.

“We don’t have choirs in Jehovah’s Witness.”

“Talk true”

“I’m serious.”

She waved her hands impatiently. “I don’t mean that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“The fire. You don use the fire stra*f woman finish, abi?”

He laughed and tried to cuddle her but she pushed him away. Once she satisfied her lust, she couldn’t bear him near her. Though he fancied himself in love with her, she couldn’t stand the mere sight of him. He had even begun to talk about marriage and how he hoped she would get pregnant for him.

“Pregnant fire!” she had retorted. “If it should venture enter by mistake, na doctor get two of us. No negotiation in that one.”

She would rather remain single for the rest of her life than be Mrs Emmanuel. The thought alone gave her nightmares.

“So you don’t want my child, abi?”

“Not out of wedlock!”

“But you are doing it outside wedlock”

“Then use protection jare”

“But you know I don’t like protection. Nothing beats skin to skin so dat na my first choice.”

Indeed. And he had let her know in the most painful way possible. The first time they had engaged in se.xual activity after his visit to school, he tore at her ruthlessly for almost forty-five minutes. When she complained, because by this time her innards were as dry as the Sahara desert and felt like pepper had been liberally smeared therein, he collapsed on top of her, complaining that he could never erupt as long as a piece of latex clothed his member. She was forced to agree to a ‘no holds barred’ session, if only to put a stop to the torture she was going through. True to his word, less than fifteen minutes later he exploded with mighty roar that had Chilo worried that the neighbours would hear and wonder if murder was being committed.

Since then, he had never bothered using protection despite the risks involved. He would often tell her that he felt very safe with her because she had been untainted when he first met her. She didn't mention to him that the word 'untainted' was subjective. Heck no, she was not going down that road.

Whether he was safe was not the issue; the most important thing was she got her pleasure, even though it was killing her inside bit by agonising bit.

naptu2:

VIRGIN:

1) A person who's hymen is intact.

2) A person that has not had sex.

(Note that some girls are born without hymen, while some girls' hymen are broken during physical exercise. It is also possible to reconstruct the hymen via hymen reconstruction surgery).

So as per your definition, was Chilo still a virgin before the official poking?
And by the way, what the heck is Were Intimate There's no word sensor for SEX but there is if you add HAD or HAVE to it. Mumu things. . .

Foxy_Ultimate: Wonderful.... First time in history you are posting in broad day light.


**Checks outside to see if rain is falling**

who?

brokoto: So as per your definition, was Chilo still a virgin before the official poking?
And by the way, what the heck is Were Intimate There's no word sensor for SEX but there is if you add HAD or HAVE to it. Mumu things. . .

As per the story, "Iyawo Nylon Bag", she was still a virgin because the hymen was intact.

Seun is trying to correct some of the problems caused by innocent use of censored words. So in this context, I could talk about the sex distribution of kids in a class, without the word getting censored, but the usual phrase for intercourse gets censored.

Foxy_Ultimate: Wonderful.... First time in history you are posting in broad day light.


**Checks outside to see if rain is falling**

Seun's maintenance operation disabled posting yesterday night.

Foxy_Ultimate: Wonderful.... First time in history you are posting in broad day light.


**Checks outside to see if rain is falling**

All covens have been granted amnesty
operations now allowed in daylight

naptu2:

As per the story, "Iyawo Nylon Bag", she was still a virgin because the hymen was intact.

Seun is trying to correct some of the problems caused by innocent use of censored words. So in this context, I could talk about the sex distribution of kids in a class, without the word getting censored, but the usual phrase for intercourse gets censored.

ok. From what i understand, Chilo was a virgin is definition 1 but not in definition 2? Right.
As per word censor, all i can say is. . .Its still re'tarded.most of the censored words are not even offensive. They just make a mockery of free speech.Thanks for the explanation sha.

“Hello, how are you? Nice pictures you have there. I love your lips especially, very full and luscious. Wish I could have a taste of them.”

She read the message, faintly amused and flattered. It was a Facebook message. She had decided to open a Facebook account after all, especially as it was all the rage on campus. Her roommate, Jewel, had laughed her to scorn when she had learnt the reason why she had not opened a Facebook account yet.

“Jesus, Chilo, must you always behave like an mgbeke, for God’s sakes? So you feel the devil is taking stock of all mankind’s details through the internet?” Jewel burst out in exasperation.

“Yes o. If only God can open your eyes to the things that are happening in the spiritual realm, then you will understand what I am talking about” Chilo retorted, very confident in her argument. “The devil has planted his agents all over these websites, and they post their pictures all over the internet to trap people. When they enter your life, everything runs down. At the same time, all our records are being kept for usage against us one day.”

When she was making this argument, Emmanuel’s thin but handsome face loomed large in her mind’s eye. Who, if not the devil, had brought Emmanuel her way? Emmanuel, who she despised for feeding her with rottenness that held her captive in its grimy claws. She hated him, but was hooked to the sinful pleasures that he provided her with. And how did Emmanuel come her way? Through the internet, of course.

Jewel brayed with laughter and began singing D'banj's hit track 'Run Down'.

"Iwo lo ma run down,
Iwo lo ma run down
Gbabe o ma run down!

"Jewel I'm serious. You don't know what is happening out there o."

Jewel hooted some more before asking,

“Wait o, but you have a yahoo account, don’t you?

“Ehen, if I do nko?”

“So you mean to tell me that the devil cannot get your info through your e-mail address? Don’t forget that to own an e-mail address, you will have to register, and everything goes into the same internet that Facebook is on. Hm?”

Chilo didn’t have anything to say to that.

Gradually, Jewel’s arguments won her over, and she soon enough, she created a Facebook account.

The first thing she had done when her account became active was post loads of her pictures which she got from her and Deborah’s phone. She was photogenic, so selecting pictures was not a problem. She uploaded fifteen pictures before deciding that it was enough.

Her next line of action was sending out friend requests to all and sundry who would accept her. The first set of people she sent requests to were her elder siblings, Kodi, Andrew and Andrela.

Then subsequently she sent requests to her roommates, course mates and school mates. Still not satisfied, she began browsing through her Facebook friends’ friend list, hoping to come across interesting looking characters who she could send requests to.

However, she had a deeper motive; she was hoping to meet a man who would for once, make her happy because truth be told, she was lonely. She craved companionship, the kind which only a man could provide. She loathed Emmanuel and used him only to satisfy her carnal needs, so he didn’t count in her life. The boys who propositioned her on campus were for the most parts either too young or not financially comfortable enough to interest her. She barely communicated with Paul again, so that door was closed. Her family were there for her whenever she needed them, but they could not provide what she wanted.

She was lonely, so lonely. She wanted to meet a man who would sweep her off her feet, shower her with love and affection, and who would not tempt her to sin. He would be God-fearing and respect her wish to abstain from s.ex; for once she would be in a relationship that did not cause her soul grievance. She wanted a man to love her because in her heart of hearts, she knew she was capable of giving so much love. Pure, unselfish love.

She had heard that such men existed, but she did not know where to find him. She was a bit embarrassed to ask God to send such a man because each time she got to that part; a tinny, hollow voice would whisper “look at you, asking for a husband at this your young age. Instead of you to concentrate on your studies, you have carried man matter on your head. Hypocrite!”

She would then mutter a few words, cringing all the while, and then quickly rush to the next item on her list.

Facebook presented a whole new world of possibilities. Prodigits was for babies, as she had come to discover. Facebook was the Big Kahuna. Hundreds upon hundreds of eligible young men, all ripe for the . . . plucking? No, that wasn’t the right word. Connection. Yes that was it. CONNECTION!!

She would meet the man of her dreams through Facebook; she could almost feel it in her bones. All she had to do was send a few of them friend requests, which she was sure they would accept, they would get talking, arrange a meeting, and once they met her, she was certain they would be enamoured by her charm and good looks.

She carefully made her choices based on their physical appearance, relationship status and place of work. Using certain keywords in her search, she was able to get the profiles of young men working in oil companies, telecommunication firms and the aviation sector. Not all of them accepted her friend requests, while some that did outrightly ignored her tentative messages. The few that responded dropped curt one-liners in her inbox and fell silent thereafter. As time went by, Chilo gradually began to lose interest in the whole venture. It seemed Facebook was not going to bring to her doorstep her knight in shining armour after all.

That is, until she opened her mail box one quiet Saturday evening. She had had a very restful day and was still lazing away in bed when she received a message notification in her account. When she read the message, she checked the profile of the sender. The message was from a certain Eric Nwaogo. Chilo vaguely recalled sending him a friend request because he worked with Chevron. He seemed to be about 5ft8 inches or thereabouts, chocolate brown in complexion, muscle bound and quite good looking.

She browsed through his photo albums, and as she did, a feverish anticipation seized her. She saw the man in different poses, in locations that were definitely foreign. She saw the man, this Eric, surrounded by white people in several of the photos.

Chilo, who had a very active imagination, began to fantasise about him. She imagined them meeting in one of those fancy restaurants on the Island and becoming very good friends. From friends, they would surely move on to something more permanent. She couldn’t wait!

God, please let him be the one, she prayed.

Thanks for the compliments, but I should think my lips aren’t the only attractive feature in my body.

was her coy reply. About thirty minutes later, another message came in from Eric. Thereafter, their correspondence increased.

Some days later, the man sought, and got without much hassle, Chilo’s phone number. By the following week, he called her, asking for a meeting. She breathlessly agreed.

Way to go Chilo. How old is she again?

The day he came to school to pick her, she was half sick with worry and kept on tormenting herself with questions like; supposing he did not like her? What if the pictures on Facebook were not his own? What if SHE did not like him?

When she finally met him, she heaved an internal sigh of relief. He was exactly as she had imagined.

“Hello?” she greeted, before slipping into the vehicle, beside him.

He cocked his head and gave her the once over. He didn’t answer at first, but stared at her in the most disconcerting manner. When he finally answered, his voice was rich and deep.

“Hi” he said, and then smiled.

God, she thought giddily, he is so bloody handsome!

Chilo found herself immediately relaxing. The interior of the car was air-conditioned and smelt slightly of lemons. She couldn’t believe her luck. For reasons she could not fathom, car owners never paid her court. The only car owner who had given her any attention was Paul, but his car was a jalopy 1995 Nissan Primera that had seen better days.

Now here she was, sitting beside this fine hunk of manliness, and judging by the way he was giving her attention, he seemed smitten by her already. She knew she looked good. She had managed to steal Andrela’s Turbo King T-shirt when she was going back to school. She now wore it with brand new jeans trousers that she had purchased specially for the outing. The combination was very attractive, and it made her feel good.

He drove her to a fancy restaurant on the Island, exactly as she had imagined it. The place was cool and quiet and played host to a large number of expatriates. When they were settled, they made small talk while waiting for their order. Eric had ordered a bottle of beer while she ordered fish. The minute the fish arrived, Chilo realised that she had made a big mistake; she couldn’t eat the fish because it was the kind which she had never heard of before.

Eric, noticing her chagrin advised her to take the fish back to her room and dash it out to her friends instead of allowing it to waste.

She agreed, feeling embarrassed. She had chosen that particular fish because the name sounded exotic. What they had served her had slices of lime served together with the fish. It seemed she was supposed to squeeze the lime juice into the fish and consume it . . . disgusting. Chilo struggled not to throw up as the waiters took the fish away to have it packaged in take-away aluminium foil.

Turning back to him once the nauseating fish dish was removed from her presence; she tried to make small talk with him. But, he was reticent. He seemed to be pre-occupied for most of the evening. When it was about 10pm, they called it a night. However, to her surprise, he didn’t drive her back to school.

“Where are we going to?” she asked apprehensively.

“My place. Or don’t you want to know where I stay?” he asked, teasingly.

“Where is your place?”

He named a popular hotel on the Island.

“You stay in a hotel?? I thought you'd be living in Chevron estate.” she inquired in consternation.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”

She clammed up and stopped fretting.

Different thoughts swarmed around in her head. Surely, nothing would happen. Yes, nothing would happen. He just wanted to show her where he lived. After that, he would take her back to school.

Don’t worry, Chi babe, nothing you don’t want to happen, will happen

They drove to the hotel where he was lodged. As they were making their way up to his room, she tried not to gawp at the surroundings. The place was huge.

His room could not exactly be described as a room. It was more like a mini-flat than a room. There was a bar by the corner and a set of chairs which looked like they had been imported, sat some distance opposite the bed.

She sat on one of the chairs, while he sat on the bed.

After some minutes of meaningless idle chatter where she seemed to be the only one asking and answering the questions, he suddenly said:

“Your lips are very fascinating. I have wanted to know how they taste like from the first time I set my eyes on your picture.”

Chilo gave a breathless little laugh, and then kept silent.

He held out his hand “Come and join me.”

“I will only peck you, nothing more.”

Eric smirked. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Like a zombie, her feet moved on their own accord to where he lay waiting on the bed.

She sat down beside him.

“So soft and tempting” he whispered. Then he raised himself kissed her. And she kissed him back.

Things happened slowly after that. Everything became like a funky, slow motion film.

Clothes off, slowly.

Necking and petting, in a slow motion dream.

My God, what am I doing??

She tried to stop everything, but she felt that familiar jelly bean sensation engulf her completely

In.tercourse. Not slowly this time, but fast and wild, like train engines in full throttle.

********************************************

Hours later, her waist and inner thighs feeling like lead, she managed to drag herself from the bed and into the bathroom. There was a half-length mirror affixed to the gleaming tiled wall. She blinked at the mirror.

What have I done? Why did I do it? I derived no pleasure, so why did I do it?

Truly, she had felt like a robot, going through the motions mechanically while the ordeal lasted. She felt nothing; no pain, no pleasure, absolutely nothing. She had been completely detached from the whole proceedings; the only time there had been any spark was the initial time their lips had touched. The spark had quickly died, to be replaced by this cold emptiness.

The void she carried around in her soul seemed to have suddenly tripled in size.

She looked absently at her reflection, her eyes lingering on her long, droopy, almost flat bosoms. He didn’t seem to have noticed, she thought, her mind a relentless whirligig.

She opened the tap on the ceramic wash basin and began to rinse her stomach. The door behind her opened, and Eric walked in. Just like her, he was completely na.ked.

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing the dazed expression on her face. His eyes lingered on her bare, old woman breasts and Chilo felt a deep shame sweep through her.

Leave me, I am not my maker!

He disposed something wrapped in wads of tissue paper in the waste bin. She didn’t have to make a wild guess as to what it was. Unlike Emmanuel, Eric had whipped out protection from the deep crevices of his wallet even before she had been relieved of the last of her undergarments.

“I am fine” she managed to croak.

He nodded and left the bathroom.

She lingered a bit, before stepping out into the chilly room. She made her way to the bed, and lay beside her date. He was doing something with his phone and did not acknowledge her presence. When he finally dropped the phone, a snazzy looking Nokia E 80, he yawned, muttered a barely audible goodnight, turned on his side and promptly went to sleep.

Chilo gazed blankly at the back of his head. The least she had expected was a cuddle. She had even prepared her mind in case he wanted to have another go at her. She hadn’t expected. . . this. What was she to do now?

The wall clock on the opposite side of the room proclaimed the time was a few minutes past twelve. She wondered why her roommates had not called her to find out where she was. They probably thought she was somewhere having an overnight prep.

She laughed aloud, the sound eerily loud in the silence of the room. Ya, right. Overnight prep indeed.

When she had run out of things to think of, she got up and paced the room restlessly. She crossed to where the packaged fish lay on the bar, and poked the covering foil with irritation.

"White people and their useless food" she muttered.

Hissing, she turned and looked at the clock again. 12.30am?? Was it her or was the time crawling at snail speed?

“Bloody snail parade” she grumbled.

She had been lost in thought for what seemed like hours, but was actually just minutes.

She sighed heavily and sat down on one of the very plush armchairs facing the bed. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, and then restlessly drummed her fingertips on the soft arm of the chair.

She sighed again as she looked at the nude sleeping form on the bed.

Out of the blues, a song which had been one of her favourites while growing up began to play in her head.

“Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we’re drifting apart?
Does your memory stray to brighter, sunnier days?
Do your chairs and parlour seem empty and bare?
Is your heart filled with pain?
Shall I come back again?
Tell me, dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

Her skin broke out in goose pimples. Now where on earth was this coming from? She hadn’t heard Elvis Presley’s 1968 classic in many years, so she wondered why it was playing in her head now of all times. It had probably lain in her subconscious for years uncounted, waiting for the right time to pop up.

“Well, it definitely describes my situation” she mumbled aloud.

Huddling against the cold and sinking further into the over-soft chair, she spent the rest of the insomnia plagued night feeling miserably sorry for herself.

********************************************

Chilo listened as the line she was calling rang and rang without anyone picking. When the call ended, she placed the phone against her throbbing temple, feeling (and looking, she felt sure) all the world like The Thinker. It had been four days since Eric had put her in a cab the morning after that dreadful night, given her 1500 naira and bade her goodbye with nary a backward glance.

Since then, he hadn’t picked his calls neither
had he responded to her text messages. She knew he was not incapacitated in anyway because she saw his Facebook activity. He didn’t even respond to her Facebook messages.

So much for the great romance.

How low can you descend, Sister Jesus? Face it sweetheart, you had a one-night stand. He is done with you and doesn’t need your ‘services’ again. Hypocrite!

She squashed the mocking voice within and began tidying her disorganised locker. One did not know how dishevelled the interior really was until one took a closer look.

Something ran down her right cheek. Distractedly, she brushed it off. Her hand came away wet. Tears were running down her eyes but she had been too pre-occupied to notice.

"O my, this is strange" she whispered.

But she let them fall; thick, silent and bitter, blurring the world around her. Not bothering to wipe them, as she went through the motions of existing. . .

Ishilove... You will make potential babes think twice here o... What are you doing?

Foxy_Ultimate: Ishilove... You will make potential babes think twice here o... What are you doing?

Ishilove:

This no be laughing matter o... You better spice this thing o, this is the exact opposite of what Mazi is writing about o

Foxy_Ultimate:

This no be laughing matter o... You better spice this thing o, this is the exact opposite of what Mazi is writing about o

Hell no. If u want sex, Mazi will give you. Ishilove doesn't have that in her agenda

Foxy_Ultimate:

I aint talking about sex here.

There is this part of the conscience that get pricked the moment you come to the ending of the update. Something like:

"Why the fuccckk am I fucckking?"

Damn... Well, it only applies to the ladies sha

Lol. Very colourful language

Ishilove:
Lol. Very colourful language

Thanks...

I sight Seun Osewa (OATT) right here.... I hope you can see the impact this thread is having on them lives

Really, please move this stuff to the front page. It is really thought provoking.

Foxy_Ultimate:

Thanks...

I sight Seun Osewa (OATT) right here.... I hope you can see the impact this thread is having on them lives

Really, please move this stuff to the front page. It is really thought provoking.

What does OATT mean?

Ishilove:
What does OATT mean?

Oga At The Top

Ishilove:
What does OATT mean?

Oga At The Top.