Brother’s Keeper

I am of the opinion that my sister is a cow.

A very cow-ey cow at that.

Hi.

How are you doing today?

Enough pleasantries exchanged… To my matter…

Said sister arrived the country with her family in tow for the Easter holidays. It was great seeing her again.

She and her family of course, but we were raised in a small family of four. I am her only brother. She is my only sister.

At least to the best of my knowledge. Who knows?

Anyways…

At some point she offered me a raggedy clock. It was poorly packaged in its crumpled original box.

I am not materialistic by any means, but this

“Babes (our pet name for each other), it’s a ‘spy cam’. For keeping tabs on ish innit?”

Her British accent amuses me thoroughly.

She finds my American accent ridiculous.

We jointly blame our parents for the dilemma.

My girlfriend and I did not have kids yet. We have been together for about four years. I wanted kids. She said she did too. But we have none yet.

Busy body! Tattletale!! Happy now?! I know what you are thinking. Yes you!

Babes did not like my girlfriend much. I do not like her husband much either. So no worries there.

I say the above because the only ‘ish I had to keep tabs on’ would be my girlfriend … My sister is a cow walahi!

For lack of a better location, I placed the ugly time piece on a cabinet opposite a wash hand sink in our shared bathroom. That way, I could honestly tell my beloved cow that her Trojan horse was in use.

Babes helped me set up the contraption so I could look in on the live feed from my tablet. It was a cool toy, but my girlfriend and I live a boring life. There was nothing to see.

Since my sister et al were billed to spend about a fortnight in my home, I found it expedient to hire a man-Friday of sorts. Someone to help with coals for the grill, lifting up heavy stuff, a bit of driving… That sort of thing.

I contacted a popular ‘Nannies and Household Help’ company and a young man was sent over.

I introduced him to my immediate and extended family. My sister did not like him at all… Which was not an issue… I mean do you ever ask beef if it wants to be eaten? Or a cow how it feels about being slaughtered? Forget my sister!

My girlfriend appeared indifferent to his presence.

The only man my mom can see is my dad. Does not matter that he has been dead for a while now. She still sees him and manages to have short conversations with him.

Shake. My. Head.

Family!

Right?!

Holidays went by blissfully. Nothing life-threatening or bad.

My sister and her family returned to the United Kingdom. The ad hoc staff was retained for one extra day to help clean up. He was to work 9 to 5. I left for my place of business at about 1 pm.

There was not a lot to do at my office. Business was still in holiday mode generally, so I ended up watching documentaries via Netflix on my tablet.

On a whim I brought up the hidden camera.

My girlfriend was in the bathroom top less. She was trying to hold up her hair with some pins. Some of the pins were sticking out of her mouth.

My woman is quite busty and I found spying on her at that point in time quite erotic.

Every time she lifted up her elbows to get her hands to her hair, her firm and heavy bosom would jut out enticingly… Mmmmmm…

Busy body! Tattletale!! Happy now?! I know what you are thinking. Yes you!

So you can imagine how and why my boner deflated when a man suddenly walked into the bathroom and cupped my/her breasts from behind and started nuzzling the side of her neck.

The feed was video only. So I could not hear what was said. Or any sound.

She however spun around and shoved him…

He looked to be placating her… She threw a slap at him that fell short…

He was quick, that was why she missed. He tweaked her nipple and one boob laughing…

I immediately barked at Siri, and my girlfriends phone started to ring. Her phone was perched on an unoccupied soap holder, I could see it ring. She looked at the phone and hesitated… She said something to him and he walked out.

She did not pick up.

She did not return the call for the next fifteen minutes.

He did not return to the bathroom.

She however locked the bathroom door, collapsed sitting with her back to the door and cried.

As soon as she locked the bathroom door, I picked up my phone and called in a few favors. Then watched her for another thirteen odd minutes before I logged off.

I leaned back and replayed what I had just watched in my head. I replayed the clip mentally about a hundred times.

I pondered. I thought. A lot.

About two hours later, I locked up and went home.

She was alone. She was bleary-eyed. She was moody.

I casually asked what the matter was. To which she mumbled, “nothing baby”.

I asked her four more times over the space of three hours.

She maintained her stand.

At about eleven pm, she came up behind me and got me all worked up. I was in the den channel-surfing. She proceeded to straddle me and sensually bring us both to an above average ‘happy ending’.

Then she French kissed me and said ‘goodnight’.

My phone rang at about 11:55pm. My favors had been granted. I dressed up and drove to a destination at the outskirts of town. It was in an industrial layout. I own nine warehouses there.

My ‘friends’ were waiting for me there.

They had the man from my house tied to a chair.

I knew that he was ‘the man from the video’. But I was aghast when they told me that he was my man-Friday.

I was shocked not because he was my employee, but because of the damage he had suffered to his face. He was unrecognizable!

He had not just been beaten up. He had been systematically mangled.

Over the course of his malicious manhandling, he had confessed that he used to date my girlfriend. It had been a sexual relationship many years ago.

His posting to my house was a mere coincidence. He was as surprised as she must have been. He said that he became pleasantly surprised when he still had his job the next day.

He said that he mistook her silence for the possibility of rekindling their romance.

He said that he was sorry. But that he had only ‘tried his luck’. And that ‘nothing happened’.

He was telling the truth of course.

I am also telling the truth when I say that he was murdered that morning by my ‘friends’.

I am also telling the truth when I say that my girlfriend died ten days later.

On the day that she died, I requested that she pack up and leave. When she asked why, I told her.

My issue was simple… I could not trust her anymore.

I am the sort of character that you do not need as an enemy. But now she scared even me.

After I communicated my fears and my decision. She got up and packed without a word.

She dutifully packed up all of four years of living together in about eight hours and left.

She took her own life outside my environs that same day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Verily, verily I say unto you; my sister is a cow!

A cow in whom I am well pleased.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{“Say something I’m giving up on you…”}

I played that song incessantly for you…

Till the very end though, you could not fellowship or communicate… with me…

Rip Jacqueline …

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Hey Baby…

It has come to my attention that we have outlived any usefulness between us.

It would seem that anytime you withheld sex or I money, we became bereft of agenda. And activity.

I am far from perfect, I know. But it is my opinion that there are things that you need to hear. Things concerning your character that have brought us to this point in our journey.

These words that you need to hear however, shall not be heard through my lips. I transfer the burden to any other man. One who is braver than I.

We were a glaring miracle. Then we had beautiful magic. But it is my prayer that we part without excitement.

I feel… Nothing…

So the usual deluge of your tears, manipulations, aggression and threats… will not…

You. Killed. Us.

I know…, I know… “men are scum!” aye?

Sigh…

I wish you the best.

Goodbye ma’am.

Here & Now

Lovemaking or sex

In Abu Dhabi or Zanzibar

Half a dozen; or six

We are what we are.

°°°°°°°

We are deeper than sorrow

What we do has no cure

Love we cannot disavow

No one will ever love you more.

~~~~~~~

Sit on your throne Khaleesi

I; I am, decrees it

Lo… We are growing within thee

We are perfect; we are complete.

“““`

Lovemaking or sex

In Maui or Libya

Half a dozen; or six

We are what we are.

‘Yo Mamma’

Every time I see him, I ‘die’ inside.

On the night we met, everything was perfect.

My cousin had invited me to come hang out with her boyfriend and ‘his friend’.

I know her boyfriend, but I did not like him much. Since birds of a feather flock together, I was certain that I would not like his friend either.

I was a freshman. My last relationship had been about a year ago. That idiot was my first in every way. He obviously was a mistake.

But, my cousin never takes ‘no’ for an answer. And so we presented ourselves at her boyfriend’s place at about six pm.

I was dressed in a peach colored t-shirt. Worn over hot pink bomb shorts. I am well endowed, and I knew the effect I was creating.

Max was typical Max… Ogling me overtly. I do not like him.

He called out for his friend and then my world burst into gold flecks and rainbows…

He is tall, dark and handsome. Well built. Bald. A goatee. And then his eyes!

Jeeeeesusss! (Forgive me Lord)

He had high cheekbones beneath the slits he called his eyes. His eye sockets were sunken. But when (and if) he focused on you, his eyes illuminated your soul. He would be inside your head, your heart… He was too much…

He walked straight to me and introduced himself in the softest and the most cultured voice I had ever heard live – in front of me.

Jeeeeesusss! (Forgive me Lord)

My body betrayed me sorely. I am still ashamed till this day. My orifice moistened of its own accord; all nubs all women possess stiffened and puckered sensually.

I was a quivering mass of desire and lust.

And he is a gentleman!

My sisters, you know that perfect male character in romance novels? That man your mummy warned you about? This man is it.

The evening was a blur. All I remember is how he makes me feel. Yes, he still makes me feel.

He is intelligent and well-read. So when he volunteered his age (33), and then asked me how old I was, I lied. I was eighteen, but I told him that I was twenty one. I had to lie! I could not risk losing this one.

He did not need to invite me back to his place. Max and Myra dropped us off at the Hilton where he was lodged and drove off. Do not forget, I was eighteen. I did not stand a chance.

He made me a complete woman that night.

All night.

Yes.

ALL NIGHT.

I wept, orgasmed countless times, squirted copiously, laughed in pleasure and self pity, and mercifully passed out.

I passed out just when the nearby mosque was calling for the first prayer of the day.

I awakened in his arms, he was kissing my forehead and running his large hand up and down my naked back.

I woke up with tears in my eyes.

I was in love.

He communicated with me.

Really talked to me.

He told me that he was leaving the country for twelve months on a scholarship.

He told me that he liked me and that he would like to date me exclusively.

He told me things that he did not like. They were just a couple. He was big on loyalty, fidelity and Jesus.

Jeeeeesusss! (Forgive me Lord)

I said yes. Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!

Then mandingo ravished me until I was a quivering mess. He barely made his flight back to Abuja.

He left the country a week later.

He called me every day. Every single day!

When I told him a few weeks later that I was pregnant, he did not miss a beat. He had his mum call me and check up on me weekly. He was there every step of the way. In every way that he could.

‘Chairman’ was born nine months later.

When we ‘Skyped’ mandingo jokingly called him ‘Mini – me’. ‘https://danochubaiye.com/2019/02/11/mini-me/

His dad was due back into the country in a couple of months. I combined education, motherhood and gym subscriptions and got excellent results in all three areas.

And why not? I was young and in love. And most importantly, I knew that my beloved loved me back.

He had done right by me. He was blameless in all honesty.

A week before his arrival, my cousin Myra came by my apartment off-campus. She was with Fatima, a mutual acquaintance of ours. Fatima swooned over my love story, we all had tears in our eyes when I was done.

I proudly showed them the e-tickets he had sent. We were going to see him in Abuja. They squealed in joy. They seemed happy for me.

Then Fatima asked me if I had ever heard of ‘Kayan Mata’ (‘Property of Women’ translated directly).

I said ‘no’.

With a twinkle in her eyes, Fatima explained that Kayan Mata was an assortment of incense, Oudh perfumes, sweets and powders. Aphrodisiacs in short. She said that these aids had been used in the north for centuries.

Her voice dropped an octave when she started to tell me about a new addition to the Kayan Mata range. A chicken prepared with natural herbs and spices that I had to eat alone. If I ate it and made love to my man, or any man for that matter they would (and could) never leave me. She said that I would have such a man loyal and committed to me for life!

Instantly I protested. It sounded like voodoo to me. And my mandingo was very clear on his disapproval on all things un-Jesus (except fornicating with me I guess, LOL).

Myra and Fatima cut me off and went on and on. Swore it was not voodoo. And said that they were only advising me as their sister. My man was now exposed to the world, and ‘hot’ as he was, I had to step up my game.

I reluctantly caved in and the Kayan Mata were delivered same week.

**************

Mandingo came back like a messiah!

I swear (down) that he was even more gorgeous.

I was glad that I had my figure back and his generosity over the year had me looking quite chic.

He was still smitten by me (thank God!) and he fell in love with his son instantly.

I have never, till this day seen a child take to his father so quickly and seamlessly.

He introduced me to his family over the next few days. It was a relief how quickly they embraced me.

His dad actually called me ‘his daughter’. The man insisted that we present him with a wedding date within a fortnight… And mandingo contritely answered, ‘yes daddy’.

Jeeeeesusss! (Forgive me Lord)

LOL…

And we were finally alone. Three days later, and we now had time as a family…

I had just exited the nursery when he lifted me up bodily. I was bereft of clothing in seconds. I swear that he ripped off some of my clothes.

I was so turned on that I began lactating, dripping… He was like an animal! The milk did not deter him…

I was flat on my back, moist, wet and ready…

He was ripping off his clothes, his tumescence larger and longer than I remembered…

His turgidity had just grazed my moistness… I was arching my hips in readiness for his initial assault when I felt…

Nothing…

In confusion I opened my eyes and saw him looking down at his flaccidity in even greater confusion…

I sat up bewildered as the problem dawned on me in earnest…

“Baby what is wrong?! You… You are…” I stammered pointing at his limpness.

Then he uttered words that have haunted me to this day…

“What have you done?”

As he looked at me, I saw tears fall down his handsome cheeks. His eyes bore into my soul and they were so intense that I had to look away.

I heard him stumble out of the room and a few minutes later out of the house. I heard his car start and he drove away.

I cried.

I wept for the entire three-odd hours he spent before he returned. He went straight into the bathroom to bathe before he came to bed. He gathered me in his arms and fell asleep.

I could smell the expensive shower gel he had used.

I could also perceive the musky smell of sex.

I wept most of that night.

I wept because I knew what I had done.

I cried because I knew that he had to go see if he was impotent… It is what he would do. That is who he is.

Over the next few months it dawned on us that he was impotent around me.

Just me.

Our son was excellent in his father’s arms. Even more than mine.

Mandingo had, did and has not changed toward me until this day.

It is just that he is impotent around me.

Just me.

Nah Woman No Cry

If you can manage it

Except when you make love to her

Do not make her cry often.

In retrospect I suffer wisdom

Because I learned the hard way

Tears make up your love in her heart.

Every time you make her cry

You deplete her love for you

Happy tears though, fill love back up.

They get ‘cried – out’ sir

Then they feel nothing

Indifference is the opposite of love.

Inevitable

There is a quota

It will be met one way or another

By you or another

This need must be met.

Said quota is a desire

Arguably a burning need

Disagree all you want

This need must be met.

It mostly sets the sexes askew

They become inept umpires

Regulating psychological needs

This need must be met.

The woman must talk

The man must have sex

Each at moments deemed ludicrous

This need must be met.