“So who do you think is the sexiest soccer player?” Amaka asked as she pulled her feet off the floor and folded them under the chocolatey smoothness of her edible looking thighs. The midi dress she was wearing kept promising to slip a little higher up her thighs. But it kept failing to keep that…
“So who do you think is the sexiest soccer player?” Amaka asked as she pulled her feet off the floor and folded them under the chocolatey smoothness of her edible looking thighs. The midi dress she was wearing kept promising to slip a little higher up her thighs.
But it kept failing to keep that promise.
Fabian was pleasantly distracted by the various engaging parts and contours that made up the beauty that was Amaka. But being no spring chicken when it came to dating, he played it cool. “I’m assuming what you’re actually asking is who’s sexier, Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi?”
Amaka laughed prettily, “We’ve been dating for 3 months now and yet your insight and wisdom never seems to do more than underwhelm me.”
Witty bitch! Thought Fabian but his handsome smile didn’t betray his mind’s opinion. “Cute.” He commented, “But your question is like picking between Arnold and Stallone while they were in their prime. It’s not an easy choice unless you’re biased.”
“Typical you. Always complicating the simplest things.” Amaka teased and leaned forward, planting a fleeting kiss on her boyfriend’s lips. Fabian was more appreciative of how her breasts heaved in that clingy dress than in the kiss itself.
“I think Ronaldo is more of a total package,” she continued. “A ripped bronze demi god, who probably plays in bed like he plays on the field. Like a well-oiled and perfectly calibrated machine.”
Fabian’s eyebrows shot up at her colourfully precise description. “I’m sorry but did you name your dildo Ronaldo?” he teased.
“Maybe…” She coyly answered with a cute tilt of her head. One could think she consciously possessed an arsenal of quirks and moves that could at once accentuate her already unignorable beauty.
Insisting on playing it cool, Fabian asked, “And Messi?”
“Messi… Messi’s cute. And he’s got that flavour to him that makes you think he might be a romantic. Even with all his tattoos he still comes off soft looking like Drake. Although at the moment, I think of Drake as nothing more than an overactive whore.”
Fabian laughed hard at that one, and for once since her arrival at his apartment, his mind actually left thoughts of pouncing on her and ripping off her devilishly clingy dress (which probably had no underwear beneath it) with his teeth.
Three months they’d been dating. And smooching was still the most sexual thing they’d accomplished together.
Prior to their hook up, Fabian had been an unrepentant cheerful sharer of his, to put it in Sterling Archer’s words, “milk of human kindness”. But for three months now, at Amaka’s insistence, he’d gone “unmilked”. And while it was slowly driving him crazy, he refused to let his girlfriend know how badly he was cracking up inside.
“Sex addict” was not a term Fabian would favour to describe himself but now that he’d gone three months without his fix, he felt a great deal of sympathy for all his friends suffering from withdrawal symptoms after being forced to stop abusing codeine or smoking their favourite brand of Meth.
“So am I a Messi? Or am I a Ronaldo?” Fabian asked as he topped up her glass from the wine bottle.
Peeping at him over the rim of her wine glass, she eyed him with a look that promised defiled bedsheets and wrecked bedframes, “I guess I’ll find out before the night is over.”
Finally a greenlight! Fabian inwardly heaved a hefty sigh of relief. But his face and posture still maintained that distracted cool look that epitomised the most seasoned of ladykillers as he shifted closer to Amaka on the couch.
His right hand stretched to the backrest of the couch caressing Amaka’s back. The pinky finger on his right hand traced unintelligent but deliberate swirls over her nape. He crossed his legs at the knees and had his left leg swinging in a deliberate arc that had it brushing against Amaka’s thigh with each swing.
Nothing like subtle skin on skin contact to set the mood.
“Can’t believe I’ve had you in my heart for three months.” Fabian solemnly said with sombre yet engaging eyes. His facial expression intense.
For the first time, Amaka squirmed in her seat. “But it has been three months. And I have to admit, you’ve been an unexpected gentleman.” Her words still came out sounding playful, but she’d lost a bit of her poise.
Fabian caught a whiff of sexual tension and proceeded to leverage the foot he’d got through her door.
“You say I’m being a gentleman but in actuality I’m just trying to be the kinda guy I believe you deserve.”
Amaka opened her mouth to retort but got stuck for a response. She instead opted for a smile.
That’s my boy! Fabian praised himself as he slid a little closer to her. “I don’t think it’s any coincidence that today, Valentine’s Day marks our third month anniversary together…”
“You actually remember that I agreed to be your girlfriend on the 14th three months ago?” Amaka asked with surprise.
“No. I remember on the 14th three months ago you kissed me and my life changed.”
Amaka’s blush was just too big and bright to hide. Like a giant neon sign in the center of a pitch black night.
My guy! Tuaile! Fabian patted himself on the back some more. “And to show you I’m not just making this up, that all I’m saying is conscious and true, I got you this for you to understand the position you hold in my heart.” He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and brought out a white gold necklace with a little heart shaped locket dangling from it.
Fabian heard Amaka’s breath catch in her throat and his lips stretched into a sly grin which he quickly got rid of before she could catch it on his face.
“Fabian… I’m not gonna lie to you. You’ve surprised me… it’s so nice… I just… Wow, put it on me.” she said, excitedly spinning in place, turning her backboyfriend to her boyfriend and pulling her hair to the side so he could put the necklace on her.
Fabian expertly got the necklace around her throat and stole the opportunity to kiss the nape of her neck before planting two more, each lingering more than the last, on the supple bare skin of her shoulders. The excited shiver and gasp his lips elicited from her boosted his confidence.
Amaka turned around, facing Fabian again, and for a whole ten seconds he forgot to be cool. The necklace’s pendant had found a cradle between Amaka’s high and quivering cleavage. The sight of the metal lying where he wanted his tongue to be was deeply arousing and if not for Amaka speaking, he might have at that moment made his move into her.
“But Fabian what does this mean?” She asked with one hand toying with the chain around her throat. Unconsciously –or consciously- dipping the pendant and a length of chain in and out of the union of the taut yielding flesh of her over ample bosom.
“Hmm…” Fabian muttered snapping his eyes from breasts to her face. “What does this mean? It means I want you. All you are and as you are. I just want you to be happy. Preferably with me.” The earnestness in his voice wasn’t farfetched. He simply repurposed his horny enthusiasm into his wooing words.
Amaka paused. Deeply struck by his words and what they meant. “You really mean that?” She gushed but quickly shook her head free of the spell of Fabian’s words. “So you’re saying, today, you want me? All of me, as yours?”
“The whole of you as you are.” Fabian answered and slid closer.
Amaka’s eyes narrowed. “The whole of me? The naked true me? As I truly am?”
The portion of his brain that had managed to still hold on to some blood while the rest had rushed into his phallus sensed a bait. A trap in Amaka’s words. But he was closer than he’d ever been to getting a visa to between her legs. With the right words he’d be in, both metaphorically and literally.
“Babe! Do you want me to draft up a binding document before you take me seriously? Amaka. No games. I love you.”
If her last explosive blush had been like a neon sign in the dead of night, her current blush was more like two stars colliding and exploding to create a super star.
She placed a soft hand delicately against Fabian’s cheek. She leaned forward, pulling him in to meet her halfway like that Black Eye Peas song.
Nigga, we made it! Fabian jubilated with his eyes closed as he leaned in to taste his prize.
Centimetres apart, their breaths already mingling and kissing before their lips could meet, the fart came with a sound like a generator with a wet dirty sparkplug and cruddy engine oil. But it was the smell that threw Fabian’s eyes open and caused him to recoil.
Fabian shocked himself by being turned on by her flatulence.
His semi-erection suddenly became a full blown throbbing locomotive fuelled by the scent of her rotten smelling gastro-fumes. Fabian became repulsed more with himself than with the fart. His senses had turned him against himself.
He tried to think but his thoughts wouldn’t make sense as he wondered how someone so drop dead gorgeous could offhandedly create such a rancid smell that was for some unforgivable reason stimulating his libido.
Amaka didn’t seem the least bit abashed. “Do you still want me Fabian?” She asked with a dainty yet confident smile. “All of me?”
“Ummm…” Fabian didn’t feel like opening his mouth lest he somehow managed to taste the fart. Last thing he needed was to swallow any of her fumes. But he had questions. “Why would you do this!?” He asked out of his scrunched up face from behind a hand pressed over his mouth.
His eyes darted towards where he’d hidden the camera. Some men collected panties as trophies from their sexcapades. Fabian collected videos, but he’d have to edit out this gross bit.
“You said you wanted all of me…” Amaka commented and changed her sitting position. Now her closed knees were facing Fabian on his couch and her dress had finally fulfilled its promise by sliding up a little higher.
Dear God! She’s not wearing panties! Fabian thought as he compulsively swallowed, oblivious to the already fading scent of eau de poo.
“…So… I had to test you. See if you wanted just my obvious attraction or me. The me on the inside without any false modesty.” She stated.
Fabian was a sharp guy but his mind took longer than it normally would to process her words because his eyes were busy mapping out the schematics of her gracious legs and very exposed thighs, clasped together and yet providing ample fuel for his imagination and yearning.
The yummy smoothness of the skin of her laps disappeared into what little coverage was left of her dress. The entire sight was sinful and Fabian’s lust was unrepentant. His rigid extension began to hurt.
“Your ‘test’ was way unorthodox… and unnecessary…” he began a deliberate slide towards merging Amaka’s skin with his. His eyes never left hers as he brought their bodies closer with agile ease. “… but did I pass?”
Watching him draw closer, closing the almost non-existent gap between them before he could hungrily suck on the sensual fruit of her flesh, Amaka’s voice turned into a smoky whisper quivering with anticipation. “I’m… not sure yet.”
Fabian’s right hand lightly rested against her knee as his left hand cupped the bare flesh of her most available thigh.
She gasped at his touch and her hip involuntarily jerked her thigh in his hand causing him to squeeze tighter as his lips honed in and headed for hers.
This time, like lightning and thunder, the smell came before the sound of her flatulence.
How’s that even possible!? Fabian thought with his face scrunching up in a rictus of mingled disgust and amused frustration as he felt the hot air of her fart brush against his hand cupping her thigh.
The smell was even more intense than the last’s.
“Oh sweet Jesus! I know you said you weren’t sure yet, but… Oh dear God!!!” Fabian suddenly cried. He’d been in the process of covering his mouth and nose as he spoke with the hand taken from Amaka’s thigh, but his hand had brought with it a more solid smell.
Did she shit on my hand!? Fabian thought in a panic as he rushed off the couch towards the kitchen.
She better not have shat on my couch. What a filthy cow! The colour of Val is pink not brown. Chai! Which kind one chance I don enter? His mind was racing and raging as he reached the kitchen sink. Yet he had to stand back a bit so as not to painfully press his inexplicably turgid and deviant member against the edge of the kitchen sink.
As he scrubbed his hands, his eyes obsessively ran over his pristine kitchen with everything where it ought to be. Except for the hammer.
Why was the hammer by the sink? He wondered.
He must have neglected to put it in its appropriate drawer after using it earlier, before Amaka’s unexpectedly punctual arrival.
Just thinking of her name upset him all over again.
He was going to give her a piece – No, pieces- of his mind in bulky portions, he furiously concluded as he scrubbed his hands a little harder. What a stink! He suspected a portion of it was still clinging to his clothes and the rest of it would never come off his Corinthian leather couch.
He stormed out the kitchen with a rehearsed laundry list of insults.
But he never got to use his list.
Amaka was gone.
In her place stood a naked goddess of beauty and fertility, gracefully standing and waiting for him in all her glorious nudity.
It was still Amaka, but without her clothes, her beauty became exaggerated and mind numbing. Fortunately for Fabian, the parts of him reacting to the sight of her hardly needed the higher functions of his brain.
Everything about her body was just trés perfect and then some. She was a walking chocolate complexioned masterpiece.
“Have I upset you?” she asked.
Fabian relied heavily on his years of experience and training in “How to be a Player and yet a Perfect Gentleman”.
“Upset me?” he echoed, “Honestly, I just don’t get why you’re toying with me. What exactly are you trying to accomplish by all these games?”
Amaka beckoned Fabian over with an endearing finger.
“Is this a game? Maybe.” She whispered. “But you’re the one who said you wanted all of me.
I’ve been hurt before. I just needed to be sure you meant your words.”
By now Fabian was standing toe to toe with her.
His clothes felt like they belonged somewhere else and faraway from his body.
“I don’t know what more you want me to…” he never got to finish as Amaka’s lips, soft and tasting like caramel, pressed his words back into him.
Fabian’s mind exploded with pink light as his sensory nerves went into overload. Her kiss was an aphrodisiac all on its own.
She took both his hands and guided each of them to each of her breasts.
Fabian found himself doing something he was used to prompting in others of the opposite sex. He found himself whimpering as her sexual dominance mounted him and took him for a ride.
She guided his hands off her breasts while her tongue and lips continued to wrestle with his. Bedazzling his brain and what little thought he had left.
She led his hands down the toned landscape of her belly, downwards to the valley of the V of her thighs.
Fabian eagerly followed her guidance, anticipating moist and warmth.
But she changed directions before his fingers could reach the Promised Land. He let out a very unmanly whimper of disappointment.
She pulled his hands about her waist and planted each one on the wholesome mounds of her butt cheeks.
Fabian reflexively squeezed the pliable flesh beneath his fingers and Amaka gasped into his mouth.
Her breath was delicious.
Emboldened, Fabian’s hands began digging their way between Amaka’s bum, going undercover, seeking the entry to Nirvana.
He was close.
But the minefield before Nirvana’s entry activated and let loose a riptide of explosive flatulence into Fabian’s hands.
Fabian involuntarily screamed and pulled his hands away.
He drew back from her with his hands dangling away from his person in disgust. The smell this time was the grand winner of the day’s prize.
“Why are you being dramatic? It’s just the scent of love.” Amaka managed to gasp before becoming totally occupied with trying not to hurt herself while laughing hysterically.
I really liked that apartment… Fabian was thinking a little over an hour later, sitting beside an ambulance and covered in soot. He was being fanned by a medic while he watched the building containing his apartment being consumed by greedy flames.
Another medic was busy searching the ambulance for the oxygen tank and its mask. Judging by the look on the medic’s face, he already knew he was never going to find it.
The fireman in charge of the team wrestling the inferno solemnly jogged towards Fabian.
Fabian had never seen a solemn jog before in real life, but the flaming carnage combined with the shooting water cannons and the manmade rainbows made an impressive backdrop for the approaching fireman. Like an action hero walking away from an exploding building in slowmo.
“Sir?” the Chief Fireman said soon as he was before Fabian, “Can you tell me your name?”
“It’s Fabian sir.”
“Okay Mr Fabian. I know this might be difficult for you but it’s vital we have this talk now. Can you tell me what happened?”
Fabian had experience in Dramatic Arts from back in college.
He let out a quivering sigh that threatened tears. His smoke filled lungs really helped sell the entire act.
“My date and I…” he began, “We were having a good time, you know? Valentine’s Day and all…” Dramatic pause to register regret, “She went into the kitchen to make up some lunch. She was always such a horrible cook,” he reminisced with a chuckle of equal parts fondness and tears, “Next thing I know… Ka-Boom…” the last word came out in a sombre whisper.
Fabian was confident his story would be incontestable. Especially since by the time Amaka’s corpse would be found, her cause of death would be summarily ruled as “Death by Barbecue”.
After she’d farted into his hands, her unrepentant laughter had just made him snap. Maybe he’d at first meant to only threaten her with the hammer from the kitchen sink, but that damn laughter, the horrendous stench and months of sexual frustration had culminated into him striking her across the face.
She’d gone down with a limp finality. Maybe she’d still been alive after the first blow, but her limp body had let loose a frightening torrent of fresh farts and he’d struck her again and again just to get her to stop.
It was probably after his twelfth strike with the hammer that it occurred to Fabian that he’d done an irredeemable thing. And that he was in trouble.
Short of options and with his panic mounting, Fabian had dragged Amaka into the kitchen and dumped every available bottle of hard liquor over it before setting it on fire. The kitchen’s gas cylinder had done the rest.
Never had he been happier words like “forensics” and “autopsy” were nothing but literature to the Nigerian authorities.
Sure he’d lost all his personal belongings and his home, but there was money in the bank and he was going to get to keep his freedom.
To sell his fire fiction, he’d dumped all the evidence, including the hammer and the towels he’d used to mop up her gore in the kitchen which had become his makeshift incinerator. He’d made sure the kitchen door was locked but stayed back in the slowly burning apartment, breathing through several wet towels over his nose.
By the time the neighbours came to pull him out of his burning home, he’d been close to fainting. But he’d had enough presence of mind to put up an act of, “No… I can’t leave… My girlfriend… Amaka… Kitchen… Help her please… Save her…” After which he’d fainted from smoke exhaustion.
“I’m really sorry sir but… There’s a high chance we’ve lost… the fire… I don’t think anyone can still be alive in your apartment. Especially not in the kitchen which we believe is the starting point of this God-forsaken blaze.”
Durhh, Fabian sarcastically thought but with a look of anguish across his face, “I don’t believe you!” He cried. “I don’t understand… I just don’t understand how… Amaka…” he added a pained sob to top off the act before raising his hands to cover his face.
His senses were suddenly hit by the smell of Amaka’s fart still embedded in the skin of his palms that he’d placed over his face. “That stinking bitch!” Fabian cried as he recoiled from his fetid hands.
Disgust and anger pervaded him all over again as he viciously swore, “Filthy whore…” but trailed off as he caught sight of the Chief Fireman and paramedic giving him a look.
Thinking fast, Fabian cried again, “Oh God you filthy whore. God you stinking bitch! How could you let this happen?”
“Sir, I understand you’re upset but there’s no need to be blasphemous.” The Fire Chief advised.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fabian saw the paramedic and Fire Chief share a look. He decided to up his game and dropped to the floor. Rolling and screaming, “God why!? Bring Amaka back God. Bring her back!”
“That’s quite enough.” A young man in a casual suit said as he approached the trio. “Get up Mr Fabian.” The new entrant wasn’t wearing a police badge or uniform and he didn’t need one before all those present figured he was a cop.
“Officer Akeem, the man is grieving!” the Fire Chief protested with a chiding look at the familiar officer.
“I’m sure he is. And that’s Detective.” Detective Hakeem snarled. But then he turned sober, “Mr Fabian, I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve lost today. Your home, belongings… Love.” He solemnly said before suddenly brightening up. “But! Thanks to the hard work of the brave men and women of the Fire Department and myself and lady luck, we were able to help you recover something very precious.” The detective said with a creepy smile as he produced a clear plastic bag and dangled it before Fabian’s eyes.
There was a camcorder in the bag.
Fabian’s brain almost melted as he recognised his secret camera for sex tapes. The one that had been recording Amaka and…
“Any chance you could tell us what’s on this very importance piece of evidence?” the detective questioned with his creepy grin still in place.
The meaning of the detective’s smile and his use of the word “evidence” wasn’t hard to figure out.
Fabian looked up into the heavens, “God, I’m sorry I called you a bitch, a whore and for everything else. Please fix this and I promise I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life.” He silently prayed, clasping his hands prayerfully beneath his mouth.
The stench of the deceased Amaka’s fart slithered out of his clasped hands up into Fabian’s nose.
He couldn’t help himself as he angrily hissed, “I’m sure that bitch had intestinal cancer.”