Before you judge me, hear my story, before you bring out the pitchforks and touches to persecute me for the title on my journal, wait until I have dropped my pen.

Why the alias Yoruba demon?; it is a title given to infamous people like me that lead life as I once did, why attach it to a certain tribe? The singular belief that Yoruba tribesmen has been hardwired to cheat, change women like aso ebi, week in week out, or inherited the polygamous nature of their father's fathers which simply refused to be suppressed in this modern age and time.

Well I call it bullshit, there is an equal share of yoruba demonology in every clan and tribes, not just to the yoruba men alone, the way of the demon didn't choose me, I chose the way of the principalities, and while the females readers will say "what is this one even saying" let me tell you my story.

Every thing great and terrible was once tiny and innocent, a lion was once a cute little ball of fur, Hitler was once a cherubic choir boy, Yoruba demons were not born with horns on their fore heads. I was pretty as a child, why I choose to use the word pretty and not handsome was because it wasn't enough to explained how I looked. My features were soft to be called handsome, my eyes were as large as a fawn's, the kind of eyes that makes you go aww involuntarily, my mother used to joke that people stared at her in suspicion when I was a baby because they found it hard for them to believe she was really my mother, so you get the picture.

I get it demon

Like I said; I blame no one for my traits, not my sex, not my tribe nor the women that gave me my title, the women I ploughed, the women I cultivated, but my origin goes back to them.

I was the last of seven children, and the only male, my mother kept trying, my father kept nagging, he wanted a male child but yes, the economy was not smiling at him around that period burdening him the more as my mother kept popping another extra child faster than his salary pay day.

Until he finally lost it when I was conceived, thinking I was another girl, he begged my mother to abort me but when that failed, he raged and threatened my mother to no avail, after she delivered and when he found out I was a boy, the old dude borrowed money to kill a goat to celebrate... "Radarada," as if that would erase the fact that my father almost arranged my existence, I used to laugh as i imagine the look of betrayal on my little face if babies could talk, I would have given him an earful.

Fire on!!

Believe me, I was quite spoiled was but an understatement, my elder sisters adored me, my mother couldn't bare to let another hold me for more than 10 seconds, my father puffed up like a bullfrog every time the women in the family said "look at his face, just like his father's." The women well wishers would said I was their daughter's husband, to think it was an harmless thing to say then but I think they cursed me unintendedly if you get my meaning.

My parents christened me Okanlawon Oluwaseyitan Abioye Ebenezer, wtf!! they should simply call me O.O.A.E. Nigerian limited while at it, I really hated my names, I made sure I made it known to them that my name sucks, they would call my five times before I answered, my mother used to fear I was born deaf, it was when my eldest sister fondly change Abioye to bioye that I began to acknowledge myself to that, it was that or ebenizayri as Yoruba people are prone to bastardizing names growing up.

Growing up I was involuntarily taught the ways of women looking at my sisters, the way they ignored a boy from our street like he had bathed in feaces, then talked about him all day long with their friends indoor, the letters they received, comparing it with another letter from another suitor, announcing a conference meeting to decide which of the boys wrote the romantic letter, the neatest handwriting, the one with the coolest punchline, the losing letter will garner insults, even the winning letter wasn't left out, they would debate why the owner of the letter had to have a fine handwriting and still managed to be ugly.

Boys from the street would send me to call one of my sisters, I began to accept bribes from them or I wouldn't go, i sometimes talked rudely to them and anyone unfortunate enough to hit me in anger will never find favour with my sister again. And when the era of mobile phones came, I would witness one of my sisters talking to a guy on her cell phone with a cute voice, my jaw dropping in shock as her accent changes entirely, chuckling at his jokes then ended the call and hissed "ode oshii.

Chei....men dey suffer o Jere.

Observing my sisters behaviour around me was my first lesson in demonology, the second real one was innocence lost.

My mother was a qualified nurse before she laid off completely to dedicate herself to child bearing, she returned to field after she had gotten what she wanted, but before that she would receive patients from around the streets, folks with minor ailments and scandalous ailments such as the pregnancy and the std types. I would sneak and eavesdrop as a suspicious mother would bring her teenage daughter to my mother to test if she was pregnant and would cause an uproar if her suspicion was confirmed, my mother would then calm her down give her a word of advice or two, and they would depart with their unfortunate blessings.

I would sneak and eavesdrop whenever one of my sisters began her moon cycle as she and my mother or an aunty would start whispering like its national security importance. But all these looked to be normal, its a child's place to be curious, but my innocence lost was at the hands of our maid, aunty rose the calabar girl.

Now some of you guys may be like...oyaa, badoo, correct guy but whenever I think about it, I believe my childhood was ruined for me, and why's that; because even long after she was gone, my preference for women changed entirely, girls my age were annoying flat chested, chatty wimps not worthy of my attention, the more matured girls that looked like my aunty rose now that's more like it.

I was nine, I was innocent and she took that from me simply because she could, there are many like me out there even younger who had lost their innocence to an older woman. They are the creators of demons, if you're looking for who to blame, then blame them, my mother was too busy watching her daughters and guarding them from demons out there to see she already had one blooming from inside her house and oh boy did I manifest.

Now back to aunty rose, she came to us around the period when househelps were in demand in Lagos, folks from the surrounding rural areas flocked into the city to offer themselves or their wards, my mother rejected a male houseboy because of her houseful of wundia, and would have preferred a much older maid because she wouldn't trust her husband with a younger one, yet she had no choice as she had her hands full with her large family and her work; she then decided to go for a young maid but vowed to watch out for her husband, but she was watching out for the wrong male in the family.

Aunty rose was every testosterone driven male wet dreams, she had a curvy supple backside that I used to abuse in my childish innocence shortly before she showed me otherwise, I disliked her at first and disagreed with her on every thing, I would call her names abuse her whitlow swollen bottom as I referred to her bigass butt, she would simply smile as if holding back a secret, I did not know she was fattening me up for eating.

My three immediate eldest sisters were all boarding students in a secondary school out of town, the other two kept to themselves, the first born who was my favorite was distracted with her jamb preparations into the university, father was working the hairs on his head grey to carter for his large family so I don't see him much, he was too boring anyway. My mother resumed her job at the Lagos teaching hospital and so I was pretty left much left alone with aunty rose.

At first she took to her work like her life depended on it, waking up before the rest of the family to do the house chores and prepare breakfast for the family, when mother was on morning or night shifts, wake me to bath, take me to school and back after school. She became an important member of the family because she eased my parents of some of their burdens.

Hmmm. This one strong o

Please continue o

I stopped allowing my mother and sisters from bathing me since I clocked seven, even before that it was war, one of my sister would wreastle me down as another struggled to take off my cloths while the war leader my mother would look on with a sponge and soap ready with me screaming at the top of my lungs at father to save me from the evil bathers, like I said; he was boring, dude never noticed me until someone said I look like him.

So aunty rose never had the chance to bath me until one fateful day, I was ill and vomited in school. My proprietress called my mother and aunty rose was sent to pick me. She took me straight to mother who gave me an injection and ordered her to take me home and put me to bed rest. On getting home, aunty rose took off my school uniform and told me to get into the shower, I obeyed but protested when she followed me in, ignoring my orders to leave, she filled the bucket up and shut me up with a splash of cold water, spluttering, I opened my mouth to unleash a well composed barrage of insult and was quickly silenced with another splash, humiliated; I glared in outrage as she continued to scrub me down, a knowing smirk on her face.

Lathering her palms with soap, she began to kneed my groin, she chuckled as I struggled to maintain the anger on my face at this new sense of pleasure, I stared down in shock as I witnessed my kokoro elongating I feared it would burst. I did not know how long she touched me but i was dissapointed when she stopped.

She then led me straight to my room, noticing I was shivering she reached for an ointment and started rubbing me down, stopping again as she got to my member and stated doing what she did with the soap but this time with the ointment

I have always been an audacious boy but right then i became bashful as she asked me i liked it, "should I stop? She asked again as my cheek burned in shyness, she sighed dramatically and move as if to stop.

"No" I blurted out, "i like it don't stop," she sighed again and said she wouldn't only I keep it as our secret, I quickly bobbed my head in agreement, she then helped me put my cloths on and put me to bed. And that was it, I became her thrall since then.
My mother noticed i allowed once more to be bathed but only by aunty rose, she was instead pleased that I was warming up to her despite our differences

One thing about child molestors is that they soften their prey up before going in for the kill, had aunty rose jumped straight off into stage 2 or 3 with me,I would have panicked and told someone but she owned me using her higher intellect over my childish own.

She left it at bathing and undressing for a while as I looked forward to my next bath more than going to school itself, after a few weeks, she decided that I was ready for stage 2.

One night, she shocked me by undressing and got into the bathtub with me, this was the first time I saw a fully naked woman, don't get me wrong, I lived in a house full of females, I have been innocently exposed to partial glimpse of a sister by accident, my mother was not left out but they don't count, they're my yunno family, that is why I used the word fully.

Aunty rose had the most perfect body, of cos it was, she was the first only body I had seen. I had always thought her behind big but the cloths haven't done them justice, her breasts were full and firm, crowned by dark pointed n*pples, contrasting nicely on her reddish skin, all this I recollected much later but back then the only thing racing through my young mind was boobs boobs boobs (oyan oyan). My heart skipped a beat when I finally tore my eyes away from her mammalian glands down to her necter region.

I had always knew I have a different pee pee to my mother and sisters, that is why they always said that I look like my father, according to my knowledge back then, but nothing quite prepared me for this, it was aunty rose in all her glory.

She smiled as she continued her normal routine of bathing me, but this time I was embarrassed as I stared at everything else except her.

"I'm I ugly bioye, don't you like me? She whispered as she stroked me, from the corner of my eyes I saw her lather a breast with her other hand. I murmured inaudible words in reply, what does she expect me to say at that period tori olorun.

It wasn't until I'm grown that I begin to realise she asked those questions not only to put me at ease but to make me loyal to her, do you like this? Well of course I like it....will you tell your mother? Lai lai, mother can go jump bridge for all I care...do you want me to stop?...don't try it o, I will kill myself!

Aunty rose then took both my hands and guarded them straight to her bosom, I squeezed, "not to hard she chuckled, it is not tangerine, you have to do it like this." Fascinated I watched her led my hand as i explored and began to get the hang of it...I have finally found a new toy. After a while she awkwardly stopped me, finished up the bathing, and put me to bed with a kiss, i was so confused that night to realise I also had my first kiss, I guess it was all too much in one night for a nine year old.

She continued this for a while again as she slowly transitioned me under her influence and when she felt I was ready for the next stage, she then showed me that both our pee pee had other uses.

wow...following this story


# Yoruba demon...
Respect to all demons out there ravaging every tribe ..

I thought I was a badass demon till I met a greater demon who told me that he had already conquered Nigeria. he is now going for foreigners



I hail ooo

That night we were truly alone. Mother was on night shift, father was out of town with my sisters, i could remember aunty rose asking me if I enjoyed touching her, if I enjoyed her touching me, that she wanted to teach me more because she loved me; asking if I loved her too. she made me promise once more not to tell anybody about what we are doing or she wouldn't touch me again.

After dinner, she asked me if I would like to spend the night in her room, of course I said yes anticipating a night of touching and was disappointed when she bath me dutifully without incident told me to go to bed that she would join me. I was still wondering what I did wrong and why she didn't touch me when she came in from taking her bath all in her birthday suit.

She joined me on the bed and kissed me full on the lip, moaning in encouragement as i kissed her hungrily in return, by that time i was getting good at kissing as I rolled my tongue out expertly to meet hers, a month ago that would have disgusted me with all the stickiness and saliva but I was ready to do anything to please her or else she will stop touching me.

She reached up to push my head down to her breast as i grabbed one and began to suck on it like my life depended on it, I was getting good at that too, as I paused between sucking to roll my tongue around her stiffened n*pple. "Yesss, that's my baby, bite me, oww not too hard!"

After a while she signalled for me to stop, pushed me back down on the bed and took my pee pee into her mouth, I balked in fright at this but she held me down with a hand as she began to suckle me as I had suckled on her breast, I soon stop struggling as the most sweetest sensation began to race up my back, this was better, a lot better than touching with soap and ointment.

I watched In fascination as my entire wee disappeared into her mouth, the warm feeling of her hot tongue suction up and down. She stopped again to ask me if I liked it, she then told me to do it to her too, promising to teach me more.
I needed no further encouragement as I dived between her soft thighs to face her pee pee, she looked on with amusement as I stared comically at her nectar region, there's nothing for me to suckle on, it all a lump of flesh with a cropped strands of hair at the top.

"My baby knows nothing, I still have a lot to teach you sweetness, aunty rose cooed, this" she pointed at down between her thigh, "is called a p**sy, and this" she pointed at my pee pee, is called a di*k and it goes into this" she concluded pointing back at her pee p-- sorry p**sy. It's better than touching"

"Really? I asked in awe, she then replied by guarding my hand down and urged me to make myself at home.

I sticked in my fore fingers, she was sticky and warm, her gasp of pleasure spurred me on as I reached in as far as my little hand could, she rammed her groin against my hand, I rammed back in respond as she cried and curled her back, I panicked, thinking I was hurting her but she harshly ordered me to continue. I then began to jerk my hand in and out as fast as u could as she moaned loudly.

On impulse, I withdrew my hand and reached down, sticking my tongue out to lick a taste of her, she squeaked in encouragment urging me on, I boldly burrowed between her thighs and only withdrew to catch my breathe, as she arched her back in pleasure. She drew me up to hug me, saying she was proud of me and now she was ready to teach me something better than touching and sucking.

The next day, mother came back to find me still sleeping, she was amused at this because I was always the first to race over to welcome her.

"What have you done to my son" she cheekily asked aunty rose while the latter smiled back and shared a wink with me over mother's shoulder. The night before that became the first of many, but that night was vividly stuck to memory. Aunty rose taught me a whole lot, she practice a bunch of unorthodoxy with me, by the time I was 11, I knew all the places to touch to make a woman melt: by the time i started having my first wet dream, I was already experienced in the ways of the world.

She left us after my 13th birthday, and my world was plunged into chaos.

It pained me dat u lost ur vicinity to a paedophile. Well-done demon!

It’s been five years since aunty rose left, but her mark stayed behind, I wished I could say I got over it, like the saying time heals all old wounds but it never said anything about leaving scars too. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the rest of my adolescent years, social wise I was a wreak, I withdrew into myself after she was gone and I became dark and brooding.

Boys my age amused me, if only the simpletons knew what I have been through, the small restless ignorant toddlers. Girls my age disgusted me, with their bony behinds and flat chest, they were too plain to deserve my attention, my elder sister’s silly giggling friends on the other hand were okay on one level but they still had nothing on my aunty rose’s curves.
Anyways fast forward five years later; the hatched egg became a rooster as the Yoruba adage will say, I shed my baby fat and cherubic face and became a lean dark angel, the stuff from nightmare fantasy novels, that screams danger to the young unwary maiden but yet draws her like an irresistible flame to the moth. I never really knew how much charisma I had until the bony flat chested girls from my class began to fill out as they sampled the threshold of womanhood.

They on the other hand find the brooding introvert exciting as they made bets on who draws me out first, I need only smile and flash my dimples and the sit or queue they reserved for someone else was given up for me, I would quietly pat my pockets for my missing biro in class as three or four girls quickly offered me a spare.

Although my old man’s salary could barely hold his large family together, he still made sure I went to a standard day secondary school, unlike my sisters that were bundled off to a government boarding school.

My school was so private we weren’t burdened with the school uniform rule, so you can imagine the quantity of ajebotta kids in attendance, so I had to respect myself at times. Well back to plot, I had to admit that I enjoyed a bit of attention from my female classmates but in my junior years my depraved mind and eyes was only for senior girls and o boy was I brotherzoned so much, I deserved an award in the annual convention for the brotherhood of zoned bruhs, bants aside.

As I grew into my trademark demonic features, my female classmates ripen before my eyes and I began to take an interest. Of all the girls, only one caught my fancy, maybe it was because she was closer in feature to a certain aunty “you know who” or because she was among the few girls acting less funny around me. Her name was Ekaette.

She was short, dark and curvy, her leg were bowed a little, but it didn’t make her any less cuter, she always greeted me with a smile and then ignored me for the rest of the day, I admit that it get along with my pride, who was she to ignore me? Well two can play the game, I resovled and from then I met her smile with a grunt, frown or ignored her totally. Our cold war went on for a while until fate had us talking by fire by force, second term ss2, we were given choices to choose between some extra curricular subjects, further mathematics, technical drawing, food and nutrition, mathematics was out of the option cause I never finish warring with the main maths I go come add join my wahala with further maths, ko jor! Tech on the other hand, I hated the teacher, that’s was enough for me to rule it out, so I choose food and nut, at least I get to eat what I cooked, or so I thought.

On the day our first class shedule list was to be pasted, my friends joked about me choosing to cook.

Friend 1: Ha, Bioye its not enough that you look like a woman already, you want to wear apron to blend in”.

Friend 2: common sense bro, my guy just want to be near the babes and I concur, you go see for end of term na, dey there dey struggle with maths o.. Oshe Einstein”.

I smiled as I ignored their banter as we ended up in front of the noticeboard. I frowned, we were to be paired in groups for the rest of the term, and guess who my partner was.

“bioye what’s up?” I heard a female voice behind me, o dear I murmured as I turned around to see ekaette, her annnoying smile on her pretty face, this girl fine sha, my traitious mind was thinking inspite of my annoyance. “yeah hi” I mumbled.
I guess you’ve seen the list huh? I hope you can cook o” she tried to joke but it became akward when I did not laugh. “huh have a nice weekend” she smiled again and stalked off.

My traitor mind again acknowledging her backside.

I like the way you narrate your story. Keep it up bro.

Nawa o
Since August

Criis:
Nawa o

Since August

lol apologies bro...hustle no gree me stay one place �

xaviercasmir:
I like the way you narrate your story. Keep it up bro.

Thanks bruh...much appreciated

I made up my mind that day to ignore her as much as possible by minimizing conversation and focus only on our partnership, lo and behold, this chic was also bent on breaking down my mental wall faster than I can raise it back up, her carefree cheerfuness soon rub off me and to my shame I began to looking foward to the next food and nutrition classe. She on the other hand wasn’t subtle with her flirt, she would purposely rub her shoulder against mine, flick a smear of flour off my face, linger a hand over mine as if to guide me as I stir something in a pot or a bowl.

Hold on up a bit, here I was now at the cusp of learning another lesson in the art of emotional manipulation, aunty rose showed me through the first level, binding loyalty through intimacy, Ekaette was much more subtle, her actions so far was nudging me to thinking I was the one in charge of my actions, like the saying eating out of her fingers and me thinking it was my decision to eat out of her fingers all along.
I call it showdriving…i could remember as a kid I would cry that i wanted to drive too as dad would then place me on his lap as I took hold of the steering wheel, it felt like I was the one in control then, I was made to believe that I was driving… showdriving.

Using the method I call the push-pull. This is how it works, you pique someone’s interest by acting like you don’t really care like that, not too much to send that person running off and not enough to make him/her settled, the end result, it makes them loose guard, easy picking. But back then i was as cluless as a 3rd world country government, in other classes she was a different person entirely, greeting me cheerfully then ignored my ass for the rest of the day, this left me bemused and annoyed at the same time…PUSH-PULL Gbam! She had me where she want me.

I wanted her to treat me in class like she did in food and nut, I began to think I was at fault for treating her like dirt in the first place, cos I thought maybe she was afraid I would not talk to her like I did as partners forced to work together.

“Hi ekaette can we talk? ” she flashed her smile as my heart skipped a beat, I had stayed up the night before formulating ways to talk to her after school.

“Sure what’s up” she shrugged. Her friends moved on ahead, trying so hard to look bored and uninterested but with the way their ears were positioned, I had a feeling our conversation was a soap opera in the making, not like they needed to listen in anyway, I was sure whatever I was about to say would be rebroadcasted to them later on.

“I noticed you ignore me in class, I was wondering if you ashamed of being seen with me or something? "

Now here was where I knew I bleeped up, anytime I thought about this incident, {ashamed of me? } this question shows that I was hooked, me most popular boy in class worrying about someone ashamed of us being seen together, na for there I realise say my kokoro number six dey her hand, and na for food and nutrition class she collect am.

“Omg of course not” she replied, genuine surprise on her face, “I just felt like I didn’t want to offend you since you probably like to be on your own, and I never wanted a situation where you’ll get angry and stop talking to me at food and nut, so I don’t want to push my luck”.
She finished staring bashful at the floor.
My heart did a double kerewa right there.

Back to present day.. Now her reply was innocent enough, but she was still weaving her subtle web, she acted surprised and then threw the blame right back, slickness at it finest, like I said women were yoruba deamons first teachers. Now she made me feel as if it’s was my own fault as I will readily try to make amends, all the while still thinking I was the decision maker... SHOWDRIVER.

Okay back to younger me and ekaette… I apologied profusely for being such a jerk and asked her what I could do to make it up to her, her answering smile back then was innocent enough but now when I thought about it, it was closer to the triumphant smile of a predator that that finally caught up with her prey.

Nice one bro more ink to your pen! Waiting for next update

That term and the next two were the best of years after we start dating, we became the school's celebrity couple, the boys hailed me for bagging the hottest catch in school, Ekaette aside being one of the prettiest girls in school, her parents were also loaded, like I said earlier, na ajebotta school I dey go.

the girls on the other hand who weren’t so happy about it started gossiping about ekaette and her witchcraft bow legs with the latter shrugging it off with her usual cheerful smile.

Now I officially had my first girlfriend, what to do? I might be versed in the ways of nacking but I was a novice in relationships and all the coshy coshy cuddly stuff that comes wilth it, but ekaette's perpetual patience worked wonders despite my irritation at her experience over mine, I finally found us even when I left her speechless and breathless after our first intense kiss during break period, she was shocked for hours, her questioning eyes followed me around for the rest of the day as I shared a wicked grin and wink. “You think say you sabi all, you know nothing jon snow”.

I had her hooked since then as she always seized every opportunity to steal a kiss exploring my lips, melting away under my kisses but will always reset whenever my hands began to explore elswhere, if goal keepers could possess the kind of reflex some girls have when a guy’s hand start circulating some area on their bodies I swear down ronaldo and messi will not be scoring 60+ goals every damn season.

Yeah all good stuff are short lived, with our school leaving cert examination coming up, our quality time together reduced quite drastically after her parents got her private tutors. Fast forward a couple of months later, our results came out, mine was aiiite, that’s all there is to know, now on to the almighty jamb, my score was way below per, lets just say it looked close to 9ja fuel price, err! the per litre cost, my old man literally raised the roof of our house.

“Omo iba joni aba yo…. But no, you decide to take your mother’s people brain, I work the hair on my head grey to give you sound education and this is how you repay me? You had only one job, just excell, Iro o you had to turn yourself to matter in my house, you occupy space and add weight”.