February 19 was our 15th wedding anniversary. I woke up with a great excitement. Though still fuzzy and hazy, I lazily stretched my hands to caress my husband’s broad chest in a romantic steam. My groin longed for his touch especially having been ignited the previous night. I had expected him to make love to me when we retired to bed by 11pm. I lay nude, my clean shaven pussy spurting and my nipples, hardened by imaginations of an anniversary sex before sleep. But he said he was not in the mood. I mulled over this let down till dawn when sleep eventually got me.
“He has no excuse this morning” I resolved, quietly rubbing his ribs. He snapped at once: ” Aisha, leave me alone. I’m not interested in all this drama right now. I have better things to do with my time ” he stormed out of the bedroom. I felt deflated. The sticky fluids in my cunt caked on the strands of pubic hair as I raced after him. I wanted to know what I did wrong this time. With my husband, I’m never right. He finds fault in everything I do. He condemns my dress sense and repudiates my body structure. With his tongue always against me, I have virtually lost my self esteem. Sometimes, when he talks to me, I feel like a beast on the surface of the earth.
Sadly, the story wasn’t different even on our anniversary. He said I was no longer attractive because of my big tummy, huge breasts and massive buttocks. That he married me a relatively slim lady and that my present stature repulsed him. Hmmmm.
I begged him to give me some time to work on my stature. I promised to enroll in a gym and also embrace some dietary discretion with a view to losing weight to suit his desires. Afterwards, I went to the washroom and later took my rosaries (tesbr), ablutions kettle and prayer rug. Time for morning prayer.
As much as I prayed for peace in my marriage, I also resolved to work hard to achieve some weight loss as soon as possible. I visited a gym in our neighbourhood. It was totally run down, perhaps due to poor maintenance or low patronage. Karu, where we have lived in the last decade, is a serene suburb of Abuja, Nigeria’s capital. I was advised to check out a modern gym in Wuse. Luckily, I found one close to Rukayat, my friend’s grocery store in Wuse 2.
Rukayat and I graduated from the same university. While I was a strict, practising Moslem, she has always been liberal, with an undisguised love for extraordinary clothing and contemporary rock music. In spite of her rife indulgence, she is gifted with rare intelligence. In fact, Rukayat was one of the best graduating students in our set.
She asked: “why this desperate search for a gym?” I narrated my experience with my husband, how he rejects me and makes me feel like an outcast. Rukayat laughed and said many ladies would pay a ransom to have my type of body structure: a big bum and huge bust! “This is what most men want in ladies… It is either your husband is demented or he is attracted to other ladies” she said unapologetically. She promised to help me regain confidence. Rukayat is happily married to her husband who was also our contemporary in the university.
Barely one week into my weight loss programme, Rukayat invited me, alongside other friends, to a birthday party in Maitama. Though I was moderately dressed, I was the cynosure of all eyes. Compliments came in droves. “Madam, you look good” said one handsome man who Rukayat later introduced to me as Architect Santan. “I’m Olasantan Oladunjoye, an architect by profession” he said as he swiftly sat next to me, draping me with sweet sobriquets. My friend told me to gist with him and exchange contacts for further communications. I dismissed the possibility of any interactions after the event, though we exchanged numbers.
As I was returning home after the party, Santan checked on me till I got to my destination. He was such a pleasant dude. He inundated me with messages of appreciation, celebrating my stature that my husband found repulsive.
A day after the party, Santan joined me at the gym. I wasn’t surprised that he came but I was stunned by what he brought for me: Apple cider, water and freshly squeezed orange juice. Not only that. He waited for me to finish my exercise, took me out for lunch. We became very close. Though he never attempted touching me even when I secretly desired him. He shared his intimate stories with me in one of our lunch dates.
He is married with two kids but his family lives in Canada. He travels to Toronto thrice a year. But his wife and children haven’t come to Nigeria in 10 years. He is rich and comfortable, having been involved in major construction projects in the FCT.
Santan invited me to his house one Saturday morning. I couldn’t say no to his request. He has been too good to me. Besides, my husband was out of town for the weekend. And my children, 14 & 12, are not too young though they’re minded by two adults: my housemaid and my younger sister. I honoured his invitation.
He lives in a duplex in the hilly area of Asokoro. Tranquil and transcendental, the expansive compound is adorned with verdant trees, well-trimmed flowers and alluring lawns. As the huge metal door creaked open, Santan welcome me with a deep kiss. Wow! It was unexpected. But I found myself yielding without caution. The body, too, was an accomplice. My thighs tingled as my cunt throbbed in electrifying sensations. He took me on tour of his luxurious apartment. I love the colours, the quality of his furniture, the texture of his window blinds and the exquisite signature of his electronic gadgets.
The last place he showed me was his bedroom. It is simply breathtaking. Virtually everything in his living room is replicated here. I wanted to ask questions but he covered my mouth with another round of kiss, currying me towards the bed. I was just shivering, squirting in my pussy as he lay on me, panting. Santan undressed me before removing his trousers. Unassumingly, he parted my legs and licked my clitoris and later inserted his tongue in my pussy. I yelled unconsciously, yanking my legs wide apart as he held his penis in his hand before penetration. Gosh!
His thrusts were legendary. I felt him in my throat. At a point I began to weep for joy, the joy of a great sex. It was the best experience for me. I lost count of orgasms. I soiled the bedsheets with cascades of spurts. I slept off afterwards.
Our first sex date was just a curtain raiser. Subsequent ones proved to be more dramatic. Santan ensured that I had the best of sex each time we met. He also showered me with gifts. But for me, the best gift I get from him is great sex as well as a reversal of the grotesque picture of me that my husband paints.
Yes, I’m happily married to my husband but I’m heartily hooked to architect Santan, my accidental lover who is daily putting smiles on my face.
Now, I have regained my confidence but it seems I’m losing my balance at the moment, especially with Santan’s immodest proposal. He wants to marry me! He is asking me to file for divorce. Initially, I thought he was kidding until his lawyer called to ask me some questions.
Yes, I love Santan. I’m ready to give him more attention but I can’t divorce my husband. No, I can’t. Santan is still begging me to initiate the divorce process. It is no longer fun.
