theafrodeity

[theafrodeity]

Church Belles - Part 4

What a ridiculous place to have a beauty spot! Everything about her didn’t make sense but neither did the loud thumping in my chest every time I glanced at her. An afro comb was dangling from the wefts of her loosely coiled hair which had droplets of water from her shower, glinting as they caught the light from the fluorescent bulb above her. I prayed we wouldn’t lock eyes but if it were to happen, I wished it would last for an eternity. The kind of reluctance you felt before taking a shower on a cold evening, instantly disappearing as the warm water bounced off your skin, then keeping you hostage for an hour as you dreaded the assault of freezing air when you inevitably made your exit. Her eyes were so inviting, so generous. Her curls were so big that I could see her scalp and that beauty spot. She threw her head back, hit her desk and laughed till she snorted, the afro comb dangerously close to falling out of her hair. It made me furious to know that I wasn’t the object of her amusement. Instead it was fucking Sena! Sena who knew nothing about her, who had no idea that Carla liked to cock her head to the side whenever she didn’t believe a story. That she liked to take off her sandals and rub her feet together during difficult elective math tests. Clueless Sena, who had no respect for Catholicism but subscribed to whatever esoteric nonsense was in fashion each term. Sena lacked depth in my opinion yet she always seemed to captivate Carla with her schemes.

She was still talking in that obnoxious tone of hers, perhaps hatching another rule-breaking plot with my Carla. I had caught them sneaking food out of the dining hall earlier that evening but I couldn’t bring myself to give them yet another punishment. Carla was always good-natured about it and teased me for being such a stickler for the rules but I needed her to see another side of me. The kind that was fun and adventurous, not the uptight school prefect character who was always calling people out. The kind that was…in love with her! I looked around frantically to see if anyone had heard my thoughts. I didn’t even allow myself to think it. This is crazy. Looking back, I don’t know what drove me to rip out a page from my notebook and scribble down the word “Mrs. Jessica Jeho-Mensah” in cursive at that moment. Yet another thing that didn’t make any sense. Women didn’t marry other women! Especially ones that were on their way to joining the order of St. Francis.

“What are you busily writing?!” Carla asked leaning over my desk. Her supple breasts threatened to burst off the buttons of her night uniform as they strained against the edge of the table. But my eyes were immediately drawn to her vaselined cupid’s bow lips. Since lip balm had been outlawed at the school, students now resorted to slapping on wads of petroleum jelly on their lips to fight off the cracks inflicted by the dry Harmattan air. I imagined what hers would feel like against my much thinner wide lips. Instinctively, I ran my tongue over my lips suddenly feeling parched and self-conscious about their ashiness. How had I not seen her walking up to my desk? Before I could stop her, Carla snatched the piece of paper out of my hand.

I was seated at the teacher’s desk in the front of the class facing everyone else to make sure they didn’t get distracted during prep time. The desk sat atop a raised wooden structure resembling a stage of sorts. Behind me was a large piece of cardboard with the world DANGER scrawled in red, covering a bunch of tangled exposed electric wires which jutted out of the walls. It was as though the words were attempting to caution the class to stay silent, but were failing miserably. Perhaps a gallon of gasoline next to the wires would make the scene more intimidating and do the trick. Also hidden behind the cardboard were orange peels from students who were too lazy to put their rubbish in the trash bins behind the class. This was the dumpster fire of a scene in which I was about to be outed.  The devilish grin on Carla’s face began to wear off and transformed into bewilderment. Her eyes kept darting back and forth as she read the four words over and over again. Each passing second was torture.

“What is it? Is it apor[1]?” Sena’s squeaky inquisitive voice carried across the classroom.

“What else could it be? She’s writing names of talkatives.” Carla rolled her eyes in Sena’s direction. She twirled around to hand me back the piece of paper. My trembling hands had gotten cold and stiff from fear. Time stood still as she looked me dead in the eyes and…winked. “…and my name is on it.” That evoked a loud chuckle from Sena. “Oh, give us a break Jessica! Is mine there too?”

Mortified, I stood up abruptly and stormed out of the classroom, not waiting to hear Carla’s answer. Choosing instead to mask my embarrassment and fear with anger. This is so unlike me. If any one else heard about this I will be ruined, expelled with zero chance of becoming a nun and hiding away from these disgusting feelings. As I turned the corner to the dormitories, I could hear Carla’s footsteps behind me so I picked up the pace. Why on earth was she following me? Her footsteps were now in lockstep with mine so I turned around to confront her but she was already inches away and held me up against the old walls of St. Anne’s house, the crenulations digging into my back. We were no longer in earshot of the class; the only sounds were of crickets chirping and frogs croaking in the distance. “You weren’t going to leave without a kiss good night, were you?” she quipped, right before she planted a wet kiss on my lips. I thought my chest would explode from the sudden surge in my heart rate, rivaling the rhythm of atumpan[2] drums. Before I could regain my breath and compose myself from the shock, she was already skipping back to the classroom.

“Amina, don’t touch Sister Jessica’s things without asking!” Carla gently chastised her daughter, grabbing the little statue of the Virgin Mary from her tiny hands and planting it back on my impeccably organized desk. She smiled at me nervously and shuffled her feet. “She can already recognize a few words and counts up to a hundred.”

“Impressive! The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I replied, offering back a reassuring smile and patting Amina on the head.

“Hahaha, who are we kidding? Carla was terrible at math.” Sena chimed in, earning herself a sharp jab in the side from Carla’s elbow.

“I so was not.” They both erupted in a fit of giggles.

“Regardless, I’ll give her a simple test to make sure we’re placing her at the appropriate reading level and setting her up for success.” I interrupted their playful banter which was already starting to irritate me. I’m not sure why Carla had chosen to bring Sena along. Clearly, Sena didn’t have anything interesting going on in her life and was tagging along as always. Who could blame her? I would follow Carla anywhere in that short sleeveless yellow flowery sundress. It was ruched from the sweetheart neckline all the way down to the cinched waist, hugging her bosom like a corset. The bottom half of the dress was cut in a flare, swishing around her with each step. When she crossed her legs, it revealed the side of her smooth hairless thighs. I reminisced about straddling those thighs and gyrating against them until I came.

From the moment they had walked in, I had completely ignored Sena but she did not seem at all bothered by it. Sena was dressed in the most boring skirt suit I had ever seen, making my habit look like a party dress in comparison. “So what are you up to these days, Sena? It’s been a while.” I asked out of a mixture of politeness, pity and defeat.

“I’ve been working on a bunch of interesting projects but nothing close to the important work you must be doing here. I have to say; this is exactly what I pictured you’d be doing when we were in school.”

I was losing my patience with Sena’s pointless sarcasm sometimes. She seemed utterly incapable of saying anything of substance or conveying anything that would interest her audience. “I see.” I said unable to keep the iciness from my tone. “We’ll be commissioning a new building for the new Senior High School block in six weeks but we ran into some issues regarding ownership. Does your firm handle land disputes?” I enquired by way of desperate conversation. We already had well renowned lawyers in our congregation who were handling the case pro bono but I didn’t want Sena’s presence in my office to appear to have been completely useless.

“My department doesn’t handle those types of cases but I can definitely recommend someone.”

“Swell. On that note, let’s begin the test. Amina come with me.” The next hour was spent asking Amina questions in the next room which she answered with enthusiasm and beamed with delight when I praised her for getting them right. Her final score was a few points below the qualifying mark but I couldn’t bring myself to fail her. Carla might never speak to me again. Besides, Amina was extremely adorable and seemed eager to learn.

“How did she do?” Carla asked anxiously when we returned.

“She’s ready for kindergarten!” I announced. That triggered a high-pitched shriek and hug from Carla, almost knocking me off my feet. Impulsively I held her back tightly, her body warm, toned and familiar in my arms. I cleared my throat and stepped back when I saw Sena’s mischievous smile out of the corner of my eye. What was she, twelve?

“You should come over for dinner tomorrow night. Amina, do you want Sister Jessica to visit us at home?” Amina nodded bashfully and vanished behind her mother. Sena was grinning from ear to ear at this point.

“That would be lovely. Sena, I suppose you’d be joining us as well?”

“Oh no! I’m sure you both have a lot of, ahem…. catching up to do.” I instantly regretted asking and fantasized about slapping the smug look off her face. Perhaps I wasn’t being fair to Sena. She was smarter than I gave her credit for and was more attractive in the traditional sense than Carla & I, although I found that look boring. She and I also had a lot in common, both unmarried and without children.  It was as though the whole world had been playing a game of musical chairs, and Sena and I had been left standing after the music had stopped. Me, because I refused to play a game that dictated which chairs I was allowed to sit on. And Sena, because she never quite got the rules or had been more interested in the music than the point of the game. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the realization that Carla’s invitation had set a new comic in motion. The monotonous routine that had insulated me from the harsh outside world had been disrupted. The spark I’d always felt for Carla now reignited into a raging fire.

[1] A set of questions from a test/exam that hadn’t yet been conducted

[2] Akan talking drums

[theafrodeity]

Church Belles - Part 3

I glanced at the chrome clock on the wall once again. Only five minutes had gone by since the last time I had checked. Why does time move so slowly when you’re not having fun? Also why did we still have clocks with Roman numerals which delayed how long it took your brain to process time by at least another 2 seconds. The sheer irony of it all! I shifted around in my seat and grunted audibly. Ok, maybe I needed to calm down. “Sena, was there something you wanted to add to that?” Oko raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “No, I think we’ve gone over all our concerns. I’ll draft a letter of agreement and send it over to you by Friday.” My response was shrill as I tried to hide my impatience and irritation. “Sounds wonderful! Me daa se[1].” Mrs. Koranteng beamed, slamming her red talon-like acrylic nails on the conference room table. “Ok, let’s go over their sales numbers again so I can be sure I understand it.” It took all of my will power not to roll my eyes.

Had it been any other day, I would have been thrilled to be in Mrs. Koranteng’s presence. She was such a powerful force in Ghanaian second-hand goods trade, president of the Makola Market Women’s Association, and the main distributor of most household brands in the country. Her diamond rings almost blinded us as the rays of sunlight reflected off of them. Everything about this woman glistened and screamed opulence, from the stone beads bordering her gigantic kaba[2] sleeves, right down to her white teeth which contrasted her smooth glowy dark skin each time she gave me that wide I-have-fuck-you-money grin. Our most valued client, no doubt, and I was impressed by how quickly she had turned her inheritance from her late husband into a fortune at 42 years. Her constant show of affection and warmth masked how meticulous and ruthless she could be in negotiations. Growing up in the busy streets of Kumasi had toughened her up into becoming a master haggler. Her hands were slightly callused, perhaps remnants from an early farm life. Still she was comfortable with patiently letting the experts talk in circles before interjecting with tough questions or a final well thought out plan.

Today’s meeting was no exception. We were providing legal counsel for a new chain of supermarkets Mrs. Koranteng’s company, GyeNyame[3] Inc was acquiring and had presented a very detailed proposal. However, I quickly realized that this meeting might drag on longer than expected since Mrs. Koranteng  did not want to spend a single pesewa[4] above what she considered to be a fair price. Then suddenly she glanced at her phone, smiled to herself and changed her mind. “Actually, I have to leave now but let’s schedule another meeting soon. I’ll review them with my accountant tomorrow. Thank you so much Mr. Quartey and Ms. Kondoh.” I could have hugged her in that moment but instead Oko and I shook hands with her and walked her to her Porsche. On the way back we speculated about whether the message on her phone had been from the young actor she was rumored to have been dating. Oko was a cool boss; very down-to-earth with a calm confidence. If he weren’t already married, we could have made a great couple because there was such an ease with our conversations and we rarely ever disagreed about anything. I glanced at my phone and noticed 5 missed calls from Carla. I was late for our bi-weekly nail appointment so I said goodbye to Oko and dashed down the hallway to head out to lunch.

Thirty minutes later, warm bubbles were caressing my feet and Akua the owner of Luxury Nails & Spa was diligently filing my finger nails. “You can’t keep me in suspense any longer. What happened?!”. Carla’s dramatic tone made me chuckle. She was sitting in the chair next to me. Her curly hair was cropped low and dyed blonde. She was wearing a loose colourful graffiti t-shirt which hugged her bra-less C-cup bosom, over ripped jeans shorts. For a second, I let the envy wash over me as I glanced down at my crisp white long-sleeved shirt and grey pleated skirt. Carla sold decorative pieces and modern African print clothing at the Art Centre and sang at the Jubilee Jazz bar to an audience of wealthy politicians on weekends for a living. She was able to afford a nice home and got to wear whatever she wanted during the week, while I worked 60-hour weeks in a skirt suit and still lived with my parents. However, I felt fortunate to still have one of my childhood best friends to hang out with routinely. Like the dating scene in Accra over the age of 30, female friends were also slim pickings as they all disappeared into domestic life after marriage. Somehow, fun edgy Carla insisted that she was living vicariously through me and kept pestering me for details about my date with Fiifi.

“What do you want me to say? We had a nice dinner and some wine and talked about life.” I avoided her eyes.

“Girl! I wanna hear about dessert though!” I burst out laughing at her ridiculous imitation of an African American accent.

Chills cut through my belly, the kind you got on a roller coaster ride, as flashes of the night before came back to me. I was hunched over the back of the sofa and my black dress had ridden up above my waist. Fiifi paused for what felt like a lifetime behind me before pulling my panties to the side and holding on to them like an equestrian gripping on to the reins of a prized thoroughbred. He whistled at the sight of my naked derrière and I felt a cool breeze against my exposed skin. Without warning he grabbed my waist and pushed up against me. The delicious pain shot through my abdomen, my thighs, then down my leg as I felt the first short thrusts. He started off with a slow rhythm, then gradually picked up speed until he was slamming into me. The clash of my wetness and wobbling behind against his muscular thighs created a slurping slapping melody that drove us both wild. “Please” I whispered urgently through gritted teeth. I wasn’t sure what my pleas were for but he seemed to understand because he smacked my ass in response and it sent fresh ripples of ecstasy through my body. He let go of my waist and gathered my braids into a pony tail pulling them towards him and arching my back. I screamed as the thrusts got deeper and felt a little ball of fire growing in my stomach causing me to hungrily push back against him. My vaginal walls instinctively clenched around his throbbing member trying to absorb every ounce of sensation from each movement. Out of nowhere he stopped and bent over to kiss me. I moaned and kissed him back hungrily.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna tell me?” Carla was jabbing at my shoulder now, snapping me out of my reverie. Akua had stopped filing my nails now and was waiting to hear my response too. “Fine, we might have made out a little bit.” I conceded, still flustered. Akua returned to her filing, evidently bored.

“Sena!! You’re so bad. You guys are like a thing now. When’s the wedding?”

“Hehehe. Oh we’re taking things slow. He literally just got divorced.”

“Good point. Things could get complicated. I think you should just try and have fun. You’re always so uptight.”

“Here we go again. Not all of us have sugar daddies sponsoring us low key.” I teased, knowing full well that Carla preferred women. Still she had gotten pregnant five years ago with a former minister who helped set up her shop.

“I wish! I get a few tips here and there but Amina is starting kindergarten soon and that means I need to step it up and make some more money.”

“Wow, she’s grown up so fast. Are you going to reach out to Jessica?”

Jessica, Carla and I had been dorm mates at St. Maria’s High School. Jessica had always intimidated me with how strictly she adhered to the school rules and how often she would scold Carla and I for being late to mass or for not making our beds before class when she was appointed school prefect. Somehow, she and Carla had gotten along fabulously even though Carla was the biggest deviant in our class. 

One night I had snuck out of class during prep time, our mandatory night study session, to take a nap in our dorm room. Light sucking sounds greeted me in the darkness as soon as I opened the door - the silhouette of two young women rolling around on Carla’s bed playing out before me. Jessica and Carla panicked when I let out a cough thinking it was our house mistress. They later begged me not to tell a single soul and I had remained tight-lipped for over a decade. Nevertheless, Jessica had never forgiven me for walking in on them and had only grown more distant over the years as if it were somehow my fault for discovering their secret.

“She’s Sister Jessica now, don’t forget.” Carla corrected me. “Yes, I have an interview with her on Friday. Wanna come with? I might need backup.”

“Err…ok. If you insist.  I’m still not sure why even you need to go through an interview process to enrol your child.” Carla knew Jessica and I didn’t quite get along. We had even less in common now that she was a nun and the headmistress of a catholic preparatory school.

“Oh I think it’s just a formality. Any excuse to see me, I guess.” Carla and I both giggled knowingly.

[1] Means Thank you in Akan.

[2] A festive traditional blouse for women

[3] A popular saying meaning “Except with God”, a longer translation meaning something can only be accomplished with God’s help

[4] Lower unit of Ghanaian currency, no longer in use.

[theafrodeity]

Church Belles - Part 2

“Sena, I think this stole will go with your dress. In case it gets cold.” Ma said softly. She was always so subtle with her reproof that it almost went unnoticed. I hid my smirk behind the African print stole, picking it out of her suitcase and pressing it against my face. It smelled of my hometown, instantly bringing back sweet memories from my childhood - a mixture of key soap, mothballs, the salty sea breeze, and the faint scent of wax print. It was so good to have Ma back home from visiting my ailing grandmother in Elmina. I had missed her poise and quiet humor which silenced dad whenever he got into his cranky moods. After my shenanigans last Sunday, I had immediately gone into damage control mode. Ma encouraged me to book an appointment with Father Moses for confession to diffuse the tension between Dad and I. Unfortunately the date the stern nun at the reception had given me clashed with my dinner plans with Fiifi later that evening, making my mini black dress with the plunging neckline seem wildly inappropriate. I subconsciously wrapped the stole around me, shuddering at the thought of having to lay it all bare in more ways than one. Ma noticing my discomfort reached over and rubbed my shoulders. “It will be alright. Just remember to wear a smile.”  If I played my cards right, that would be the only thing i would be wearing by the end of the night, I thought slyly to myself.

Two hours later, I was tapping my feet impatiently on the terrazzo floor of the old cathedral, taking in the beautiful paintings hanging in the meeting room - a sharp contrast to the cold Greystone walls and cool fluorescent lights. In fact the only thing missing was a two-way mirror to complete the scene for an interrogation. To make matters worse, there was no confessional booth to separate the sinner from the priest. Instead there were two old wooden stools facing each other in the middle of the room. Father Moses floated into the room and motioned for me to join him on the stools in a very business-like fashion. For a split second I fantasized about bolting out of the room and driving off into the sunset, pretending that this had all been a bad dream. “How are you, my daughter?” He asked kindly although I read some condescension in his voice. The fact that he referred to me as his child was comical since he couldn’t have been more than a decade older than me. “Fine thanks.” I croaked in response. As soon as I sat down, I felt his warm hand on my forehead and caught a whiff of medicated soap and perfumed talcum powder emanating from his robes. If I hadn’t been so nervous, I might have found it comforting. “Forgive me father for I have sinned. My last confession was about ten years ago…” I began and proceeded to recite a list of rehearsed modest sins I had committed. “……Temptation is always knocking at our door so we must reach out to God through prayer in order to remain steadfast in our faith.” Father Moses’ concluded his speech just before I could start dozing off right in front of him. I nodded obediently scribbling down notes for my penance and mumbling a few words of contrition. At the door we exchanged a few niceties and I promised to return within the year. If I was being completely honest, the meeting had not been unpleasant and seemed like a small price to pay to maintain some peace around the house.

Outside, the skies were roaring with the promise of rain, filling me with a sense of dread. Over the past few weeks, some parts of Accra had become intermittently inaccessible due to floods caused by choked drains. Luckily, Fiifi had made reservations at a restaurant just five minutes down the road from the church. Once again I was nervous about the awkward evening ahead. This time we both had a fair idea of how we wanted the night to end; having spent last night expressing what we couldn’t wait to do to each other in graphic detail. I silently admonished myself for biting off more than I could chew. This man might still be in love with his ex-wife or possibly still married. “Table for two under ‘Fiifi Manu’” I whispered to the maître d’. “This way please.” He said with a thin smile, gesturing towards the dimly lit restaurant. The soft piano music and blast of cool air from the AC welcomed me into the cozy Asian styled room. I spotted Fiifi at the corner of the room in a navy blue shirt, already standing to greet me and all the while grinning from ear to ear. I swallowed the huge lump that had formed in my throat and forced a shaky smile as I made my way towards our table. “You came early.” I gushed like a giddy school girl, hugging him tightly. “Let’s hope that’s the only time that happens tonight.” He wittingly responded, sending me into fits of laughter which disrupted the serene ambience. Before I could take the seat opposite him, he pulled me down next to him on the pleather booth seat and planted a wet kiss on my lips.

We stayed that way for about an hour, gazing into each other’s eyes and catching up on the past fifteen years. I complained about how the economy had worsened considerably and the recent exposé about judges collecting bribes thereby undermining the integrity of our entire judicial system. Fiifi’s face lit up when he spoke about his five year old son Ekow and how he had exclaimed “You can’t be serious!” when he had told him he wouldn’t be seeing him for a few months. “I wonder where he gets that attitude.” I teased, beaming with a wide red wine induced smile. Fiifi took the opportunity to lean in and kiss me softly. He rested his hand on my thigh, his wedding ring glinting against my skin in the candlelight. I hesitated to address the elephant in the room, worried that it would ruin the mood we were in. “Do you want to talk about that?” I asked tapping lightly on the ring. He flinched “Force of habit. Do you want me to take it off?”

“It would seem like the natural order of things if you’re no longer married. I’m more concerned about why you still wear it.”

“I like it. I picked it out myself and paid for it. Along with half of the things she now owns.” His face clouded over with anger and he struggled to regain his composure. After a while he said “But you’re right, Sena. I should take it off. I just haven’t given it as much thought as I should have.”

“Would you like to order dessert?” The waiter was back at our table right on cue. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Fiifi twisting the ring around his finger, deep in thought. Just when I thought he was going to leave it on, he slid it off his finger and into his breast pocket. “No. I think we’ll just have the bill.” I answered.

It was pouring outside the restaurant. Although a waiter accompanied us with an umbrella, we were all drenched by the time we got to the car. I sent my mother a text message saying that I would be staying at a friend’s place due to the heavy rains. Technically I wasn’t lying, and if the rent prices hadn’t shot up to a ridiculous rate I would be back at my own apartment and wouldn’t have to make excuses for not sleeping at home. Fiifi had turned his mother’s boys’ quarters into an elegant man cave. I settled into the old plush armchair in the TV room where we used to play video games after school while he walked into the kitchen to fix us drinks. “I really like what you’ve done with the place.” I shouted across the room. “Oh thank you. I had a lot of help from Yvonne actually. You know she’s now an interior designer.” I bet she is. Yvonne was one of Fiifi’s ex-girlfriends from way back in high school. Even then, I couldn’t stand her pretentious nature and wasn’t the least bit surprised when she recently married a well-known drug dealer.

The sounds of Asa’s Awe wafted into the living room, followed by an inebriated Fiifi stripped down to his boxer shorts and socks, a wine glass in each hand. We both giggled at the sorry sight and I stood to join him in a slow dance. We swayed and zouked to the rhythm, laughing at nothing and everything. In one swift motion, Fiifi twirled me out of his arms and bent me over the arm chair and i watched the stole fly across the room. My head was still spinning but I had never felt more alive!

To be continued...

#atheism #sex story #sex #ghana

[theafrodeity]

Church Belles - Part 1

The sound of my Android phone vibrating against the hard mahogany surface cut through the icy silence in the old cathedral and interrupted my daydream. I had simultaneously been mouthing a fake prayer, conscious of my father’s disapproving stares throughout mass. The previous Sunday, I hadn’t taken part in the communion and that had infuriated him. My explanation that I hadn’t gone for confession in years fell on deaf ears. “You don’t need a Reverend father to forgive you your sins. Only God forgives.”, he had announced later that afternoon after lunch, glaring at me over his horn-rimmed reading glasses, wholeheartedly believing this contradiction to Catholic doctrine. Of course I understood the real reason for his frustration was that his church friends would judge him. I was still unmarried at thirty-three, and by not receiving the Eucharist, I was notifying the faithful that I was unrepentantly living in sin. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less about what the other parishioners thought of me. Half of the married men constantly made passes at me and the women returned to abusing their house helps and turning their noses up at the less wealthy church members as soon as the priest ended the final blessing. Still, it broke my heart to see my father so distraught and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I was now an atheist.

My phone rattled loudly again and I quickly snatched it up, cursing under my breath at myself for unwittingly leaving it on top of the pew in front of me. Usually I would put my phone on silent but I was expecting an important message today and couldn’t afford to miss it. “Look behind you.” the message read. Instantly my palms began to sweat and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Chatting seductively with Fiifi all week had not prepared me to actually see him again in the flesh.  Before I could figure out a way to turn around without being too obvious, the church choir accompanied by bass drums began to belt out an upbeat local song and everyone stood up to exchange greetings. Dad gave me a firm handshake as if to wake me up from a drunken stupor. I ignored him and continued to unceremoniously shake hands with the other over enthusiastic people around me. A familiar hand jutted out of the crowd and I reluctantly held it, suddenly self-conscious about my clammy palms. Fiifi pulled me in for a hug and I hang on two seconds longer, inhaling his wood scented cologne. “I’ll be outside.” He whispered softly and pulled back to look me over. I winced in reaction to his piercing shiny coal black eyes, surprised at how affected I still was by his attention.

Fiifi and I were childhood sweethearts. So many of my first moments had been shared with him. Our first kiss in the grotto behind our classroom, ruined by Sister Florence storming in on us and making us recite the entire Rosary three times before leaving for home that day. He was the first person to notice when my period began. The bell had rung out for the second break during a Saturday morning class when he pointed out the huge red stain on my flower dress and handed me his grey cardigan. I was both amused that he had inadvertently confessed to staring at my bum again and relieved that he had spared me any embarrassment of finally becoming a ‘woman’ – whatever that meant! Our relationship never blossomed beyond innocent flirting and teasing. Fiifi’s popularity grew in high school, his basketball athlete status and lean dark physique captured the attention of many attractive girls. Soon, I lost track of the names of his girlfriends and grew tired of playing the role of the best friend who offered him free relationship advice. Before school was out, he traveled to the United States to further his studies and I distracted myself with other love interests and building a well-paying career in law. We stayed in touch from a distance – liking each other’s Instagram photos and commenting on Facebook posts.

As I made my way toward the stairs through the side entrance of the church, pausing to dip my fingers into the holy water and cross myself, I remembered Fiifi’s private message to me earlier that week. He was recently divorced and his son had moved away with his wife and her new boyfriend to another state. He was back in Ghana because he missed Accra and wanted to relocate here to start his own private dental practice and wanted to meet up for a drink. Throughout the week I chickened out and canceled our dinner plans twice until he gave up and decided to see me in church instead. The moment was finally here and I was a nervous wreck, breathing heavily and stumbling over the gravel which covered the elaborate carpark. The headlights on a Mercedes Benz S500 flashed twenty metres ahead of me. I recognized his mother’s car and quickly shuffled in its direction. I collapsed into the passenger seat, grateful to have a moment to catch my breath before losing myself in in his intimidating eyes once again. I noticed his platinum wedding ring shining brightly for the second time and made a mental note to ask him about it later on.

“Took you long enough.” As I opened my mouth to respond to his accusation, he planted a feathery soft kiss on my lips. I pulled away and raised my head in protest to meet his gaze which was now intently focused on my heaving cleavage. “I’m not sure this is the appro…” My words were drowned out in the second kiss and this time I melted into his rock hard chest, my tongue slowly groping around for his. He reached around behind me to pull me in closer and bent over to kiss my neck. A soft moan escaped my lips and he responded with a deep growl. I could already feel the beginnings of a puddle forming in between my legs and the warmth coursed through my veins. Fiifi’s breath was now on my breasts softly kissing them and freeing my perky nipples from my silk dress. He gently flicked it with his tongue and this time my scream rang out in unison with the faint sound of the altar bell. His throbbing cock was now pushing against my belly so I rubbed it with my left hand, my right now firmly behind his neck as I grinded up against him. Fiifi attempted to shift around and grab my behind when his elbow accidently slammed into the car horn. Startled but unruffled, we clumsily made our way into the backseat, giggling like horny teenagers in between passionate kisses. He brushed my hand away from his penis and began to slide off my thong. I was desperate to feel his solid warmth inside of me and wriggled my hips in anticipation but he had other plans. His head disappeared beneath my skirt and his wet lips caressed my nether lips, shooting sharp shivers up my spine. I grabbed his head with both hands and rocked back and forth unapologetically. I was a quivering mess, groaning and thrashing around on the plush leather seats. Somehow I couldn’t stop myself from crying out his name as I shattered into a million pieces again and again.

The muffled sound of the organ playing the closing hymn seeped into the car, snapping us back to reality. I hurriedly sat up straight and brushed my hair back into a ponytail with my fingers. “We’ll pick this up later.” I joked when I finally found my voice. He mockingly made a wounded sound pointing at his prominent erection. We both laughed shyly as I clumsily made my way out of the car and brushed down my skirt. The faithful were pouring out of the building, chattering about God knows what. My mind was racing, trying to gather my scattered thoughts into the perfect excuse for Dad. A tummy upset was the best I could come up with. I inhaled deeply and let out a sigh, smiling to myself.

#atheism #sex story #sex #ghana