With great expectation and ecstasy, the day arrived. After rigorous planning, spending every imaginable and conceivable income earned or borrowed, the D-day is here. After the bachelor’s bash, a day before that dragged into the early hours of the morning I barely slept for four hours of stupors induced dreamless sleep.
The atmosphere is charged up even before I got off the bed like Christmas in the village in the early nineties. I was drowsy but a quick dash to the restroom clears off the fogginess in my blocky brain.
Guys, today is the day and no dulling is permitted I hollered to my inner circles of friends still in different postures and state of sleeping on the rug, chairs and even one, lanky Lawal, lying half on the bed and half on the rug.
I don my Ray Ban shade, wearing my creamy Italian tuxedo with a polka dot American trouser. I wasn’t listening to the message by the priest as my mind wandered to what I will do to this dashing lady beside me after the whole ceremony this evening.
She kept her pants zipped all through our seventeen months courtship as told me she had covenanted herself to God that it is on her wedding night before she opens her leg for any man. All the tricks in the book that I used to get in between her legs proved abortive. I resigned to fate.
Widget not in any sidebars
She teasingly looked at me behind her veil and arch her brow. I was hiding my bloodshot eyes behind the Ray Ban praying the bulge growing between my legs will stay hidden until after the ceremony. I hate this skinny pant-trouser because… A boner finds no hiding place in them…
In a blurry daze, I was on autopilot throughout the forty-five minutes ceremony. Left for me, the ceremony should last shorter as I can’t really remember a thing said other than you may kiss the bride.
I was eager for action as I whispered to my angel, can we dash to the hotel before the reception party? she looked angrily at my bulging boner, bros relax, few minutes is not how I planned to start my s3x life with my Husby. Wait till the cover of night sweetie.
I wasn’t feeling like any sweetie, in fact, I was feeling like a complete pot of unwashed bitter leaf soup. Waiting can be killing at some time.
Mehn, these ladies know how to turn you on and then pour cold shower on you booming emotion. She wanted to swallow me alive.
At the reception, Mrs Wiffy really prepared for the occasion.Her dancing wowed and woo me. She turns her back to me dancing and whining the hour glass perfectly shaped behind, at times grinding on by crotch seductively. I can’t believe the zipper of my pant-trouser can take that stress without giving in ripping itself apart.
With loud standing ovation, we were ushered in. I took time out to whispered sweet nonsense into her ears how I will deal her tonight mercilessly. I promised her, she won’t be able to stand up nor dance for the next four days. She looked at me and stuck out her tongue playfully.
As the last of my friends were leaving us at the hotel, Lawal gave me a bottle of small stout and a local drink that he promised to enhance my performance after the hectic day. I downed it in a gulp and wash it down with the stout.
I tiredly walk up to the bed well laid out with dimly light playing on my brain. I discarded the layers of clothing standing on tiptoes in front of the mirror, I was ready for the action of my life.
From the edge of the mirror, I saw a human angel cat walking with perfect gait in her birth robe. My brain froze. What I saw was beyond me, she smiled coyly towards me but every muscle in me just give way at that exact moment. My boner became limp and my eyelid shutters frustratingly as I began to snore softly oblivious to the served human meal …
Isaacola AAA young poet, a believer in NewNaija that works, a chemist and father of four boys who writes sometimes. He can be reached on twitter @newnaija and blogs at www.nunaija.com.
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