NewStats: 3,259,438 , 8,170,123 topics. Date: Sunday, 25 May 2025 at 02:24 AM 5u2s20

valirex:



Bros you're taking us for a joke, with the rate at which you post this is becoming stale and boring.

The topic doesn't even correlate with the body of the story any more, 1 day on 12 days off. Is this how we are supposed to under the story?

And if you had been patient like I said instead of running your mouth like you just did, you would have realized I have been fairly consistent with my post. Not everybody lives on Nairaland like others do, and I do not bombard readers with everything at once. So please take a chill pill and don't lecture me. I have a reason for writing this story the way I am, and if you are not happy about it, then you can stop reading. I'm going to drop another long one today.

Make it 5 long one please, dunno how many days off you are gonna embark on now.

metalgear11:


And if you had been patient like I said instead of running your mouth like you just did, you would have realized I have been fairly consistent with my post. Not everybody lives on Nairaland like others do, and I do not bombard readers with everything at once. So please take a chill pill and don't lecture me. I have a reason for writing this story the way I am, and if you are not happy about it, then you can stop reading. I'm going to drop another long one today.

If not that I don't wanna derail your thread,I would have engaged your utterances.

I only voiced my concern and how I felt and you are getting pissed, ogbeni watch your words.

valirex:



If not that I don't wanna derail your thread,I would have engaged your utterances.

I only voiced my concern and how I felt and you are getting pissed, ogbeni watch your words.

Pissed? Who's getting pissed? I won't even dignify your comment with a response.

elijahtemitope:
Make it 5 long one please, dunno how many days off you are gonna embark on now.

No vex please. It's not my intention to leave people hanging and waiting for updates. I have so many commitments in of work and family, so I post as often as I can.

Almost an hour later, I withdrew from her wetness. The eruption was forceful and profuse – thick jets of hot semen burst forth from me and streaked across her belly. She immediately grabbed me and jerked me off, shuddering uncontrollably as her body was decorated with spurt after spurt of creamy appreciation. She milked me of every ounce of salty goo until I was spent. Her tummy received the majority of my spunk, and as the spurts subsided she gathered some with her fingers and played with it, and even brought some to her mouth to taste. We both smiled at each other. I walked over to the kitchen area for some paper towels she pointed out, which I then used to clean up the liquefying mess I had made on her body. We both knew there was no way we were going to continue with our work, so we decided to call it an evening and finish up when we resumed back to school.

Fadziso and I met up for casual sex regularly from then on. We kept our school studies separate from our romance life. Most of the time we met up in her place as she was closest to school, but other times she would come to mine. I had already moved into a small basement apartment about a ten minutes’ drive from school. I had also just recently got myself a small car. It was quite old in of number of years, but the lady I bought it from had pretty much taken good care of it, so it was quite reliable and took me around without much issues.

We were not dating in the real sense of the word – it was more like a “friends with benefits” arrangement. We did hang out a lot together in school and whenever I was not on shift at the school cafeteria or with one of the professors that hired me as a teaching assistant, and I always made sure I gave her the best effort I could whenever we ended up in bed, which by that time was fairly regularly. On one of such days, she confessed to me that the way I handled her each time we had sex reminded her of her boyfriend back home in Zimbabwe. I was mildly surprised she had a boyfriend. She confessed to me that she had someone back home whom she had been dating for about three years. He worked as a lawyer in the office of one of the top senators in her country, and was also into importing of vehicles from the neighboring United States to sell back home since he had so many s. They did talk almost every other day, and they planned to get engaged once she returned from her studies. I asked her what she was doing with me when she already had a man, and she just shrugged. She said she knew even before she left Zimbabwe that she was going to have an affair, and she just wanted to experience it one last time before settling down. What she had no foreseen was how good the sex was going to be. It was at par, or even better, than what she had with her man, and he was no novice in bed. She apologized for not telling me sooner, but the sex we had was so good, she was afraid I would end it if she had. I was the only other man who made her achieve multiple òrgasms during sex. She said she was sorry for making me feel as if she was just using me to satisfy her sex urges. I told her I was not upset or anything, only that I would have appreciated it if she had told me earlier. I also said as long as she doesn’t decide one day to quit cold-turkey, we can continue having all the fun we wanted with no strings attached.

We continued our sex relationship for the rest of our graduate program, even up to a few weeks after we graduated. Her journey back home was coming fast, and a few days to when she was to leave for Zimbabwe, we took a trip together to Niagara Falls where we spent a few days sightseeing and enjoying each other’s company for the last time. Our final night together was intense. For the first time she said she wanted us to fûck raw. That was quite surprising as she had always insisted I use a condom on her. Anytime we had sex. It was like she wanted to leave a mark on me to her by. She was insatiable and voracious in our love making. I had to work very hard to keep up with her intensity, and at a point I was so carried away I did not notice the tears pouring down her face. Each twist of her delicate waist brought me closer and closer to òrgasm, and when I finally crested my peak, she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist and begged me to cum inside her. Another surprising first. Her strong legs held me in place and I groaned and burst gallons inside her. A few days later, I saw her off to the airport. I hugged and kissed her for the last time before she departed.

After Fadziso, left, I didn’t have anyone to hang around with, so I spent most of my time at home watching TV or surfing the internet for jobs. My dad told me not to come back home to Nigeria as there was nothing worth coming home to. He would rather I stayed back and worked on my permanent residency. I had by now been in Canada for about two years, and with my masters’ degree, it was easy for me to get a Post-Graduation Work Permit. It was just getting the job that was the challenge. I eventually got one after applying and searching for about two months. This gave me an opportunity to gain the required work experience to qualify for my permanent residence. My boss was a pretty decent guy, and he was patient enough to teach me the main aspects of my duties. I worked with him for the next year and a half, before he was transferred to another branch of the company to head a division. He had trained me enough to be able to work on my own, and my new boss saw me as an indispensable asset to his team. The pay was quite decent too. I was able to upgrade from the basement apartment I lived into a much better one-bedroom apartment in a very nice neighborhood. I also sold my old junker I had driven during my graduate studies and replaced it with newer model Lexus RX350.

I met a couple of other Nigerians over the next several months, and one of them happened to be Charles. We worked in the same building but on different floors. He was part of the IT department. I met him in the break room one day. I had run into him a couple of times but never knew he was from Nigeria. He told me that day he knew I was Nigerian, even Yoruba. I asked him how he knew that, and he said it was from the way I talked. He had spent most of his life in Canada as he was born here, but had spent a few years in Nigeria when he was younger before deciding the hustle and bustle was too much for him. We became fast friends, and occasionally hung out together.

Overtime Charles and I became very close, and he introduced me to his two younger sisters. I had learned a long time ago that you don’t date your friend's sister(section 3, article 1, paragraph 2 of the bro code), so I was very careful with the way I related to them, especially the younger one since she seemed the very friendly and carefree type. They were all born and grew up in Canada. Stella (the older sister) worked for a real estate agency as a realtor, while Ifeyinwa (or Iffy as everyone called her) was a graduate student in her final semester. She once told she had a very pretty Nigerian classmate who she would like me to meet as I had no girlfriend. Olaide was her name, she said, and we would both look very good together. I told her that though I appreciate her thoughts and efforts into my love life, I was not interested at that point in time. She laughed it all off, and said she would arrange a meeting between us.

Meanwhile, the three of them had been making plans to celebrate their mum’s 65th birthday in a grand way. As per Charles being my close padi, I helped in every way I could. I was quite good with Photoshop and graphics design, so I designed the invitation cards, and even volunteered to pay for them to be printed. I also chipped in a couple hundred Canadian Dollars for them to reserve a grand hall for the event, and caterers were brought in for the food. A very popular Nigerian MC was invited to handle the event.

On the afternoon of the party, Charles and I did some last-minute run arounds. The DJ was already set up and was testing his equipment. The chairs and tables had been set up and were adorned with exquisite tablecloths and fine silverware. They didn’t spare any expense. Everywhere was set. Iffy had told me earlier that Olaide was going to be there, and she looked forward to introduce us. She warned me she knew there would be other pretty girls around, but I dare not disappoint her friend. In fact, she had placed us both at the same table. I still laugh to this day at how she eagerly tried to match me up with her friend. I joked with her that I hoped her friend was up to my high standards, and she told me she exceeded them. She had never met a girl with such class and style, and it was up to me to impress her, she warned. I told her I would do my best.

The hall filled up gradually as guests arrived and took their seats at their assigned tables. People were dressed to the nines. The DJ had already begun to drop beats. He clearly knew his craft. I saw a couple of people from the office at other tables and waved. Just as Iffy said, there were several pretty girls of different nationalities who were invited. I'm sure she caught me once or twice iring them. The servers started dishing out the appetizers, and the soon the celebrant and her husband danced into the hall with their entourage. The MC began his thing, and soon he had the Nigerian half of the gusts laughing their heads off with his jokes. A few of the other guests got the gist and chuckled politely along.

About an hour into the party, Iffy’s friend has still not arrived. I wasn’t really bothered though, as I had only agreed to it just so she got off my neck. Who knew, I may even like the girl, I thought. I felt a bit pressed from the two drinks I had already taken, so I stood up to use the restroom.

As I got back to my seat, a couple of arriving guests walked into the hall. One particular lady among them caught my attention and made me pause. There was something very familiar about her that I could not lay my finger on. I couldn’t see her face as she had turned and bent over to talk to a few of the earlier girls at a table. Someone must have said something funny because when she laughed, my body froze. No - it couldn’t be. So many years had ed, but I could recognize that laugh anywhere. She stood back up and drew her bangs back behind her ear; I finally saw her face. My heart lurched in my chest - I was speechless.

She turned and headed in my direction. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up and our eyes met. The smile on her face disappeared; her eyes grew wide and she stumbled on her heels. Her clutch fell from her hand and tumbled to the floor. She was not more than ten feet from me. I still do not know how, but I somehow managed to close the distance between us. She covered her mouth with both hands as she stared at me in disbelief.

“Di…” she gasped. She could not complete my name.

It was as if this moment bridged the gap in time for the previous several years. I could not believe my eyes who was standing in front of me. I had to pinch myself to be sure. I finally found my voice after several seconds.

“Yewande!” I blurted out.

This is getting interesting .... Please don't take long before posting next one .... Please ...
God bless you

metalgear11:
Overtime Charles and I became very close, and he introduced me to his two younger sisters. I had learned a long time ago that you don’t date your friend's sister(section 3, article 1, paragraph 2 of the bro code), so I was very careful with the way I related to them, especially the younger one since she seemed the very friendly and carefree type. They were all born and grew up in Canada. Stella (the older sister) worked for a real estate agency as a realtor, while Ifeyinwa (or Iffy as everyone called her) was a graduate student in her final semester. She once told she had a very pretty Nigerian classmate who she would like me to meet as I had no girlfriend. Olaide was her name, she said, and we would both look very good together. I told her that though I appreciate her thoughts and efforts into my love life, I was not interested at that point in time. She laughed it all off, and said she would arrange a meeting between us.

Meanwhile, the three of them had been making plans to celebrate their mum’s 60th birthday in a grand way. As per Charles being my close padi, I helped in every way I could. I was quite good with Photoshop and graphics design, so I designed the invitation cards, and even volunteered to pay for them to be printed. I also chipped in a couple hundred Canadian Dollars for them to reserve a grand hall for the event, and caterers were brought in for the food. A very popular Nigerian MC was invited to handle the event.

On the afternoon of the party, Charles and I did some last-minute run arounds. The DJ was already set up and was testing his equipment. The chairs and tables had been set up and were adorned with exquisite tablecloths and fine silverware. They didn’t spare any expense. Everywhere was set. Iffy had told me earlier that Olaide was going to be there, and she looked forward to introduce us. She warned me she knew there would be other pretty girls around, but I dare not disappoint her friend. In fact, she had placed us both at the same table. I still laugh to this day at how she eagerly tried to match me up with her friend. I joked with her that I hoped her friend was up to my high standards, and she told me she exceeded them. She had never met a girl with such class and style, and it was up to me to impress her, she warned. I told her I would do my best.

The hall filled up gradually as guests arrived and took their seats at their assigned tables. People were dressed to the nines. The DJ had already begun to drop beats. He clearly knew his craft. I saw a couple of people from the office at other tables and waved. Just as Iffy said, there were several pretty girls of different nationalities who were invited. I'm sure she caught me once or twice iring them. The servers started dishing out the appetizers, and the soon the celebrant and her husband danced into the hall with their entourage. The MC began his thing, and soon he had the Nigerian half of the gusts laughing their heads off with his jokes. A few of the other guests got the gist and chuckled politely along.

About an hour into the party, Iffy’s friend has still not arrived. I wasn’t really bothered though, as I had only agreed to it just so she got off my neck. Who knew, I may even like the girl, I thought. I felt a bit pressed from the two drinks I had already taken, so I stood up to use the restroom.

As I got back to my seat, a couple of arriving guests walked into the hall. One particular lady among them caught my attention and made me pause. There was something very familiar about her that I could not lay my finger on. I couldn’t see her face as she had turned and bent over to talk to a few of the earlier girls at a table. Someone must have said something funny because when she laughed, my body froze. No - it couldn’t be. So many years had ed, but I could recognize that laugh anywhere. She stood back up and drew her bangs back behind her ear; I finally saw her face. My heart lurched in my chest - I was speechless.

She turned and headed in my direction. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up and our eyes met. The smile on her face disappeared; her eyes grew wide and she stumbled on her heels. Her clutch fell from her hand and tumbled to the floor. She was not more than ten feet from me. I still do not know how, but I somehow managed to close the distance between us. She covered her mouth with both hands as she stared at me in disbelief.

“Di…” she gasped. She could not complete my name.

It was as if this moment bridged the gap in time for the previous several years. I could not believe my eyes who was standing in front of me. I had to pinch myself to be sure. I finally found my voice after several seconds.

“Yewande!” I blurted out.

jiboladhino:
This is getting interesting .... Please don't take long before posting next one .... Please ...
God bless you

Thank you very much. I'll try post the next update as soon as I can.

I have even forgotten who Yewande is...

elijahtemitope:
I have even forgotten who Yewande is...

Yewande is the titular girl in the story. The one who ditched Dimeji for his brother.

second chance to correct the mistake of the past.

metalgear11:


Pissed? Who's getting pissed? I won't even dignify your comment with a response.

If I didn't draw your attention to your fvck ups you probably would have posted the other parts next year. Mtcheew

valirex:


If I didn't draw your attention to your fvck ups you probably would have posted the other parts next year. Mtcheew

Congratulations on this great achievement. I'll make sure you get nominated for the Nobel Prize. I'm done talking to you.

metalgear11:


Congratulations on this great achievement. I'll make sure you get nominated for the Nobel Prize. I'm done talking to you.

Second time you're saying this, clown

“Yewande!” I blurted out.

I was stunned. Yewande. After how many years? I didn’t know whether to hug her or just be casual, even though my heart was running laps in my chest. It was like a door to my past had been flung open. The last time I saw this girl was the day I invited her to my dad’s birthday. I ed the betrayal I felt that night; her voice over the phone when she called me to apologize during my service year and how I told her to never call me again. All that was more than five years ago and in one fell swoop, they all came back. All these thoughts flooded my mind for a few seconds before I came back to reality.

“Yewande…” I uttered again.

“Dimeji…is...is it really you?” she said. Her eyes were wide as saucers. I didn’t know whether to hug her or play cool. I decided on the latter in order not to betray my feelings.

“Yewande…” The armless, plunging V-neck African print jumpsuit she wore adorned her beautiful curves. A sharp glint of light reflected off the pendant of her necklace and drew my eyes to the inviting bulge of her smooth cleavage. A nice shade of red stained her wet lips. I felt my heart strings tug.

“I see you guy’s have already met. You did not even wait to be introduced,” I heard Iffy say as she walked up to where we stood near the table.

“Wait…you mean she’s your friend you wanted to introduce me to?” I asked in disbelief.

“DJ is the guy you were telling me about?” Yewande asked almost at the same time.

Iffy looked confused. “Dimeji? Yes, he’s the one I told you about. Do you know him?” She kept looking back and forth between the two of us.

“Of course, I know him…”

“Wait a minute, you said her name was Olaide…” I blurted.

“Yes, her name is Olaide,” Iffy replied. I turned to Yewande, who just smiled back.

“How do you know her?”

“We attended the same university back home in Nigeria. I was…she was like a sister to me,” I said.

“Ahh,” Iffy replied, her head nodding up and down with suspicious interest etched all over her face, “well then, it makes things easier for me. I’ll let you two catch up,” she smiled and left.

I led her to our table. “Olaide?” I asked, confused. She didn't respond, but smiled slightly. Then it clicked. Her names WAS Olaide. Her middle name. I just didn’t because she seldom used it and everyone called her Yewande back home. I pull out a chair for her and she sat down ever so elegantly. It was true. She oozed class. I won’t lie, I was slightly intimidated. This was a different Yewande from the one I knew so many years ago. She looked entirely different. Her aura portrayed sophistication and style. She seemed more mature. I was tempted several times in the course of the night to caress her glowing skin, but I controlled myself. I did not know how she would react to me after so many years. Those old feelings I had buried long ago started to resurface.

Finally, the party began to wind down. Very satisfied guests started to leave. Olaide…Yewande informed me she was calling it a night. I saw her off to the car park where I walked her to a small Toyota Corolla. I opened the door for her.

“It was nice seeing you again Yewande,” I said.

She smiled, and memories flooded back again. “It was nice seeing you again too Dimeji,” she responded.

I hesitated, then leaned forward to give her a small hug. I felt the slightest of tenseness from her. I quickly took a step back and closed the door after she got in.

“I hope to see you again sometimes…maybe catch up over coffee?”

She stared at me for a moment before starting her car up. “Maybe,” she responded. I watched the glow of her tail-lights as she slowly drove out of the parking lot. It was only then I realized I hadn’t asked for her number.

Is that all?

metalgear11:
“Yewande!” I blurted out.

I was stunned. Yewande. After how many years? I didn’t know whether to hug her or just be casual, even though my heart was running laps in my chest. It was like a door to my past had been flung open. The last time I saw this girl was the day I invited her to my dad’s birthday. I ed the betrayal I felt that night; her voice over the phone when she called me to apologize during my service year and how I told her to never call me again. All that was more than five years ago and in one fell swoop, they all came back. All these thoughts flooded my mind for a few seconds before I came back to reality.

“Yewande…” I uttered again.

“Dimeji…is...is it really you?” she said. Her eyes were wide as saucers. I didn’t know whether to hug her or play cool. I decided on the latter in order not to betray my feelings.

“Yewande…” The armless, plunging V-neck African print jumpsuit she wore adorned her beautiful curves. A sharp glint of light reflected off the pendant of her necklace and drew my eyes to the inviting bulge of her smooth cleavage. A nice shade of red stained her wet lips. I felt my heart strings tug.

“I see you guy’s have already met. You did not even wait to be introduced,” I heard Iffy say as she walked up to where we stood near the table.

“Wait…you mean she’s your friend you wanted to introduce me to?” I asked in disbelief.

“DJ is the guy you were telling me about?” Yewande asked almost at the same time.

Iffy looked confused. “Dimeji? Yes, he’s the one I told you about. Do you know him?” She kept looking back and forth between the two of us.

“Of course, I know him…”

“Wait a minute, you said her name was Olaide…” I blurted.

“Yes, her name is Olaide,” Iffy replied. I turned to Yewande, who just smiled back.

“How do you know her?”

“We attended the same university back home in Nigeria. I was…she was like a sister to me,” I said.

“Ahh,” Iffy replied, her head nodding up and down with suspicious interest etched all over her face, “well then, it makes things easier for me. I’ll let you two catch up,” she smiled and left.

I led her to our table. “Olaide?” I asked, confused. She didn't respond, but smiled slightly. Then it clicked. Her names WAS Olaide. Her middle name. I just didn’t because she seldom used it and everyone called her Yewande back home. I pull out a chair for her and she sat down ever so elegantly. It was true. She oozed class. I won’t lie, I was slightly intimidated. This was a different Yewande from the one I knew so many years ago. She looked entirely different. Her aura portrayed sophistication and style. She seemed more mature. I was tempted several times in the course of the night to caress her glowing skin, but I controlled myself. I did not know how she would react to me after so many years. Those old feelings I had buried long ago started to resurface.

Finally, the party began to wind down. Very satisfied guests started to leave. Olaide…Yewande informed me she was calling it a night. I saw her off to the car park where I walked her to a small Toyota Corolla. I opened the door for her.

“It was nice seeing you again Yewande,” I said.

She smiled, and memories flooded back again. “It was nice seeing you again too Dimeji,” she responded.

I hesitated, then leaned forward to give her a small hug. I felt the slightest of tenseness from her. I quickly took a step back and closed the door after she got in.

“I hope to see you again sometimes…maybe catch up over coffee?”

She stared at me for a moment before starting her car up. “Maybe,” she responded. I watched the glow of her tail-lights as she slowly drove out of the parking lot. It was only then I realized I hadn’t asked for her number.

More please more

I had almost forgot this story is still on. Baba please try dey post frequently.

Sonnobax15:

If I'm to venture read this write up till the end,it will only prove I'm proud of my joblessness

I earn six figures and still read it to the end!

This life no hard like that.....

stanvesco:

I earn six figures and still read it to the end!

This life no hard like that.....

you earn six figures . Bro if you show me love, Nothing go do you hope you know that?

metalgear11:
I did not see Yewande for the next several weeks. I kept wondering - what happened? Could it be because I was going to graduate soon? No, if not she would have gone for a guy on campus rather than my brother who did not even attend the university we were. Looking back, I began to realize that the signs were right there under my nose, but I had refused to acknowledge them. It was the typical play for my brother; he was the ladies’ man among the three of our parents’ sons. I should have been more cautious about him and Yewande. But why should I have been? Her words were nothing but the truth; we were not dating. I had no right to stop her from dating whoever she wanted to date. I hadn’t even kissed her since that last time. I won’t lie, it hurt badly, but what was I to do? I focused all my energy and attention to completing my project, defending it, and graduating with the 2:1 I was trying to maintain.

After all the hard work and effort I put into my project, I was able to defend successfully. All that was left for me was one last paper to write, which to me was an easy A, and I was free!!! Finally, after weathering the tough courses, lecturers, sleepless nights, sometimes unending ASUU strikes and all that stress, I was almost a graduate.

The night before the exam, I was heading up the stairs into the study hall when I heard a voice coming down. I would recognize that voice anywhere, even in my sleep. She and two other girls were walking down towards me. There was no way I could avoid them. She looked up and saw me, and her voiced died midsentence. She looked like she saw a ghost. I simply ignored her and walked . Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see her looking up towards me in the darkened stairs. Several hours later, as I was packing my stuff to leave for the night, I suddenly had a strange feeling of being watched. I looked up and noticed her peering at me from where she sat at the far end of the hall. I slung my bag over my shoulders and walked out of the hall.

After my paper the following evening, I headed home. Just as I was pulling my shirt off, I heard someone knock on the door. I opened it and was surprised to see Simi and Susan standing there. What did they want? I invited them in. The girls started begging me on their friend’s behalf. I just laughed. Was she the one who put them up to this? They said no. So why were they begging me for? They said Yewande had not been the same ever since. She finally realized how much I meant to her, but was too ashamed and scared to come around. She was always crying each time she ed how she could always call on me to figure things out when she needed help. They went on and on about how important I was to her, that I should forgive her, she was just a kid who was carried away, and all that blah. Finally, I told them to just stop. She made the decision she made, not me. They told me to at least hear her out, let her explain why she did what she did. I told them I was not interested. After begging me for more than an hour, I yielded. I told them to let her know that she could come see me, and we could talk. They said they would give her the message and they left.

I turned to my roommate who shrugged. Hear what she wants to say, he said. I don’t think it was up to five minutes after they left that another knock sounded on the door. This time, it was Simi and Yewande. She still looked as beautiful as I ed her to be. Her eyes were downcast and she couldn’t meet my gaze. My roommate suddenly ed he had a prior engagement, so he quietly took his leave. Simi said she had an appointment with someone to make her hair, and she left as well. Yewande and I were the only ones left in the room.

I turned my attention to her, but she couldn’t meet my gaze. I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. I asked her to sit down, but she shook her head. She began to sniffle, and I called her name. I told her to look at me, and she shook her head again. All of a sudden, she began to sob – and I mean sob. She just let the waterworks loose. I stood up from the chair I was sitting in, and she just ran to me and wrapped her arms around me. She bawled like a baby. She kept saying she was sorry over and over again. I’m pretty sure she said so more than a hundred times. Pretty soon my shirt was soaked with her tears. I wanted to push her away, but I found myself hugging her in my arms. This made her cry even harder, and she held on to me fiercely. I must it, her tears got to me too and I felt myself choke up and a few tears rolled down my cheek. I quickly wiped them away before she noticed.

I had to carry her - literally – I still ed how light she felt whenever I lifted her playfully – and stumbled towards the mattress. I lay on the bed and lay her ontop of me, just like how we did in the past. For the next hour or so, I had to pet her, try to calm her down as she cried. I reassured her that I was no longer angry, and that everything would be okay.

She finally expended her grief and tears. Her eyes were red and swollen. The whole front of my shirt was wet and soaked. She wanted to talk, but her emotions were still too high. I told her not to worry, that we had all the time to talk later. I gave her a kiss on her forehead and told her all she needed to do right now was calm herself down. She eventually fell asleep in my arms. My roommate returned much later, and was kind enough to sleep on the carpet while I stayed on the mattress with Yewande.

That was how she wept herself back into my heart. I thought she had learned her lesson, but boy, was I wrong.

Oh boy! You tell stories so good...that I wish they were true stories....kudos

She should have use paracetamol instead

metalgear11:
I woke up a couple of hours later. The other side of the bed where Adaego lay was empty; she must have left at some point. I padded to the bathroom to relieve my full bladder, and returned to pick up my phone to check the time. It was around nine o’clock – my maths class was not until eleven. I noticed three missed calls from an unknown number. I redialled and fifty brownie points for who’s voice came over the line.

Yes. It was her.

“DJ, I know I’m the last person whose voice you want to hear, but please, don’t hang up.” she begged.

“What do you want?” I seethed.

“Please Dimeji, I just called…to apologize.”

“What exactly are you apologizing for?”

“For treating you the way I did. I now realize I should not have done all that to you.”

“I’ve heard that script before. You do not have anything to apologize for.”

“DJ, listen to me!!” she yelled over the phone, “I know I offended you. Big time. You would never have treated me the way he did if I chose you. Your brother took my heart, used me, and smashed it to pieces, something I know you would never have done. I know you cared a lot for me, and that is why I called for your forgiveness. I would have a long time ago, but I did not have the courage. Everybody I spoke to about it told me I made the wrong decision – I chose the wrong brother. I’m sorry Dimeji…I’m so sorry…but it was partially your fault too.”

“How was it partially my fault?” I asked, not believing my ears.

“You didn’t take charge…you didn’t try hard enough.”

“Are you kidding me right now? What else did you want me to do? What did he do that I didn’t?”

“You treated me like I was your little sister. He treated me like…”

She paused. “Like what?” I demanded.

“Like a…lover.”

“Bullshit! Lover indeed. The only thing I did not do was to force myself onto you. Maybe that’s what you’re mistaking for “lover”.”

“Please DJ, don’t make this hard for me. I’m trying as it is without you hurting my feelings.”

“Well I’m sorry your feelings are hurt, but that’s how I see it.”

“And I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. If there is any way I can make it up to you, you know I will not hesitate doing it.”

“it’s too late for that. I came to with it a long time ago. Don’t worry about making up anything to me.”

“Please Dime…”

“I just want you to tell me something, and I want you to tell me the truth,” I paused for a moment, “did you sleep with him?”

There was a long silence before she responded, but that silence told me what I wanted to know. “Yes,” she replied, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“You do not need to be sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It was your decision to choose him Yewande, since he treated you like a “lover”.” I said coldly, my voice again rising a notch. “It hurt me deeply, but I ended up accepting it. It took a while, but I realized it made no sense fighting for something that was never mine to begin with…”

“DJ, don’t say that…” her voice broke over the line.

“…it was your choice. You went with him. I wasn’t happy, but there was nothing I could do. It wouldn’t have hurt me so much if it was some other guy, but I learned to live with it. You do not have to apologize for anything. There’s nothing to apologize for.” I concluded.

“…DJ…”

“Goodbye Yewande, and please, don’t call me again,” I said and ended the call.

Although I have always being lucky to be that *"younger brother more often than not!"*....but I learnt the bitter way never to dismiss girls like that! Small thing,you will hear she attempted suicide.


Nice one bro! (Is this a real story?)

metalgear11:
Overtime Charles and I became very close, and he introduced me to his two younger sisters. I had learned a long time ago that you don’t date your friend's sister(section 3, article 1, paragraph 2 of the bro code), so I was very careful with the way I related to them, especially the younger one since she seemed the very friendly and carefree type. They were all born and grew up in Canada. Stella (the older sister) worked for a real estate agency as a realtor, while Ifeyinwa (or Iffy as everyone called her) was a graduate student in her final semester. She once told she had a very pretty Nigerian classmate who she would like me to meet as I had no girlfriend. Olaide was her name, she said, and we would both look very good together. I told her that though I appreciate her thoughts and efforts into my love life, I was not interested at that point in time. She laughed it all off, and said she would arrange a meeting between us.

Meanwhile, the three of them had been making plans to celebrate their mum’s 65th birthday in a grand way. As per Charles being my close padi, I helped in every way I could. I was quite good with Photoshop and graphics design, so I designed the invitation cards, and even volunteered to pay for them to be printed. I also chipped in a couple hundred Canadian Dollars for them to reserve a grand hall for the event, and caterers were brought in for the food. A very popular Nigerian MC was invited to handle the event.

On the afternoon of the party, Charles and I did some last-minute run arounds. The DJ was already set up and was testing his equipment. The chairs and tables had been set up and were adorned with exquisite tablecloths and fine silverware. They didn’t spare any expense. Everywhere was set. Iffy had told me earlier that Olaide was going to be there, and she looked forward to introduce us. She warned me she knew there would be other pretty girls around, but I dare not disappoint her friend. In fact, she had placed us both at the same table. I still laugh to this day at how she eagerly tried to match me up with her friend. I joked with her that I hoped her friend was up to my high standards, and she told me she exceeded them. She had never met a girl with such class and style, and it was up to me to impress her, she warned. I told her I would do my best.

The hall filled up gradually as guests arrived and took their seats at their assigned tables. People were dressed to the nines. The DJ had already begun to drop beats. He clearly knew his craft. I saw a couple of people from the office at other tables and waved. Just as Iffy said, there were several pretty girls of different nationalities who were invited. I'm sure she caught me once or twice iring them. The servers started dishing out the appetizers, and the soon the celebrant and her husband danced into the hall with their entourage. The MC began his thing, and soon he had the Nigerian half of the gusts laughing their heads off with his jokes. A few of the other guests got the gist and chuckled politely along.

About an hour into the party, Iffy’s friend has still not arrived. I wasn’t really bothered though, as I had only agreed to it just so she got off my neck. Who knew, I may even like the girl, I thought. I felt a bit pressed from the two drinks I had already taken, so I stood up to use the restroom.

As I got back to my seat, a couple of arriving guests walked into the hall. One particular lady among them caught my attention and made me pause. There was something very familiar about her that I could not lay my finger on. I couldn’t see her face as she had turned and bent over to talk to a few of the earlier girls at a table. Someone must have said something funny because when she laughed, my body froze. No - it couldn’t be. So many years had ed, but I could recognize that laugh anywhere. She stood back up and drew her bangs back behind her ear; I finally saw her face. My heart lurched in my chest - I was speechless.

She turned and headed in my direction. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up and our eyes met. The smile on her face disappeared; her eyes grew wide and she stumbled on her heels. Her clutch fell from her hand and tumbled to the floor. She was not more than ten feet from me. I still do not know how, but I somehow managed to close the distance between us. She covered her mouth with both hands as she stared at me in disbelief.

“Di…” she gasped. She could not complete my name.

It was as if this moment bridged the gap in time for the previous several years. I could not believe my eyes who was standing in front of me. I had to pinch myself to be sure. I finally found my voice after several seconds.

“Yewande!” I blurted out.

You are mutterlessly good!
I dare say you beat me hands down in imagination....in writing and in imagery!


Ogbeni you write so good....that I have a *face for yewande in my head already*


Ohhh boy...... Even tho I predicted olaide would turn out to be yewande..... But the way you contorted that meeting; left me breathless.

Sonnobax15:
you earn six figures . Bro if you show me love, Nothing go do you hope you know that?

Na the end of the story I dey faind like this oh

stanvesco:


Na the end of the story I dey faind like this oh

stanvesco:


You are mutterlessly good!
I dare say you beat me hands down in imagination....in writing and in imagery!


Ogbeni you write so good....that I have a *face for yewande in my head already*


Ohhh boy...... Even tho I predicted olaide would turn out to be yewande..... But the way you contorted that meeting; left me breathless.

Thanks for the compliment...but these your accolades no too much so? I'm only but a humble writer of literature that touch the heart.

stanvesco:


Nice one bro! (Is this a real story?)

It is not a real story, but it is based on people I know.

metalgear11:


Thanks for the compliment...but these your accolades no too much so? I'm only but a humble writer of literature that touch the heart.



It is not a real story, but it is based on people I know.

Bro please I use God to beg you,kindly finish the story.

stanvesco:


Bro please I use God to beg you,kindly finish the story.

I'll post something either today or tomorrow.

Great story bro
But Abeg give us update.

metalgear11:
NB - This is not about me, but one I assume people can relate to. What sort of advice would you give the guy?


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I met this very young and cute girl around 2011. I was a 400-level student then. I met her one evening during night study. I had gone outside to grab a sachet of pure water and stretch my legs for a bit, and by the time I got back, there was this young, big eyed girl in my spot. Back then getting a spot for night reading was like searching for treasure – you had to be fast, accurate, and very precise, particularly during the examination period. I asked her why she had pushed my books aside and she told me she thought the owner(me) would not be around for a while. You see, some people saved spots for themselves ahead of time, and as such some seats could contain books with no one reading there for hours on end. I told her I had just stepped out for about thirty minutes and was back. With a babyish whimper and frown, she began packing her books. I told her that if it wasn’t going to be too late for her, I was going to finish what I was reading in about an hour as I had an early morning lecture the following morning, and it was already going to around midnight then. I could keep the seat for her if she wished. She smiled and gave me one of her books to place there when I left.

I ran into her(literally) again two weeks later. I had totally forgotten about the encounter, so imagine my surprise when, upon paying for the food I had purchased at the eatery I had gone for a late lunch, I turned around and almost bulldozed into the person walking behind me. She almost spilled the contents of the tray she was carrying and I quickly grabbed the drink and glass cup she had balanced along with the plate of food before the tray came tumbling out of her arms. I began to apologize for my clumsiness, but I was pleasantly surprised to see her. She at first didn’t who I was, but after reminding her of the events of the night in class, her frown melted away. I picked up my tray of food and led her to an empty table at the far corner of the cafeteria.

Over our meal I got to know she was a 100-level student. She told me her name was Yewande. We talked about several things, and when we were about to leave, I asked if she wouldn’t mind giving me her number, that I would love to talk to her again. She hesitated at first, but eventually shrugged. I asked if I could come visit her sometime (her hostel was not that far from mine) and she replied with a maybe. At least I had her number.

Over the rest of the school year, I got to know her better. I got to know she lived in the same town I was from. I once playfully told her I would visit her at home whenever school was closed, but she refused. She did eventually invite me to her room which she shared with two other fresh 100-level students like her. All of them were youthful kids. I was sure the oldest among them was not more than nineteen. Yewande in particular was a very playful girl, and coupled with her babyish looking face and playful demeanour, one would assume she was much younger than her eighteen years. As she became more comfortable with me, she really showed me that side of her playfulness. She also had a very sharp tongue.

I didn’t want to, but as a 23-year-old guy with raging hormones back then, it was only a matter of time before I began to notice other things than her youthful face. She was a bit on the busty side, and her slim waist complemented her curvy hips and lovely figure. She filled anything she wore nicely. I began having thoughts of asking her out, but considering she was that young, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

This is nice! A loyal woman is worth having by your side https://www.xplorefeelings.com/5-qualities-of-a-loyal-woman/

A couple of days later, Iffy called me at work, demanding to know how it went with Olaide…Yetunde, I mean. I told her it went quite well. She kept pushing for more information, but I told her nothing out of the ordinary happened. I just explained that I knew her way back in university, and she was just a younger sister to me. She then asked me what I thought about her. I told her she did describe her perfectly, and she would make a good girlfriend for someone, but sadly that person was not me. Iffy yelled and hollered at me over the phone, saying she could not believe what I was telling her. She was literally carving an easy path to the girl’s heart for me, and here I was balking at the opportunity. I didn’t want to tell her about everything that had happened between us in the past, so I told her I was sorry, but not interested. I did not want to dwell on those memories any more than I already had in the past day or two since our meeting. For the first time, Iffy cursed me out.

In all honesty, Yewande was the last person I expected to reappear from my past. I still had not gotten over seeing her again after so many years, and it threw me off balance a bit, I must it. She still had that cute baby face, but she seemed much more beautiful, refined, and poised. At least, those were the few things I could decipher in the few hours we spent at the party. She really did not talk much, only telling me she had been in Canada for about a year and was about halfway through her graduate program. Iffy was her course mate and they hung out together either in her parents’ house or mostly at her apartment. She did not tell me where she stayed, and I did not want to push for more information, being that we just met after such a long time.

The following weekend, Charles and I decided to play a round or two of tennis. We had this “bet” going on between us where we each bet a hundred dollars on a game of three. Whoever won two games would put the hundred dollars into the pot. At the end of the year, we would then share the combined amount equally, regardless of who put in more money. We had these games every other Saturday depending on our schedule. That Saturday, I drove over to his place to pick him up for the game. When I got to his door, tennis racket in hand and bag slung over my shoulder, he told me the girls were on their way. They wanted to us in the game. I saw no problem with that arrangement.

About ten minutes later, we heard a car pull up outside and then a loud horn. I followed Charles out of the house and stopped briefly in my tracks. Behind the wheel of the gleaming Ford Explorer was Iffy. Sitting beside her in the enger seat was none other than Yewande. Iffy yelled my name and waved frantically. I greeted her back, telling her she looked swell behind the wheel of her ride. I said hi to Yewande, and she responded with a smile and small nod. The two girls bundled themselves to the back and we guys took the front seats, with Charles driving.

We arrived at the club about an hour later. At first, we paired up with we boys against the girls. It was soon evident that they did not know how to play as much as we did. After a while, Iffy complained cheating, and suggested we paired up guy-girl. She switched places with me, and Yewande became my partner.

At first we lost two serves. Then I strictly began to target Iffy with the ball. Charles knew what I was trying to do, but each time Iffy, being the strong-headed girl she was, wanted to do it her way. I let Yewande have a go at her as well, and soon she began to loosen up and have fun. Each time she ran after the ball, I caught glimpse of her white boy shorts under the tennis skirt she had on. She moved elegantly, and after about an hour or so, we finally called it a game. Yewande and I had won by two games to one. She squealed in delight and gave me a hug, which caught me a bit by surprise. The way she jumped up and down as she hugged me, I almost saw that little girl of so many years ago. That brief body triggered my mind, and I wanted to hold her even closer. I quickly cleared my mind and dropped my hand which I realized I had rested on her lower back just above her skirt.

We decided to have a few drinks after we had freshened up, so we all headed to the bar. I was not much of a drinker, so I ordered a Corona. Charles got a few bottles of his Heineken, while the girls each took a Pink Lady. The alcohol loosened their tongues, and soon both girls were giggling. None of us had eaten anything since breakfast, so the effect of the drinks on empty stomachs was quite more pronounced. We ordered a few bites which we consumed with our drinks.

Much later, we all called it a great day. I had to drive as I only drank one bottle in accordance to my strict policy to drinking. Charles had taken like five bottles. Iffy was smashed. She had drunk about three glasses of the stuff. The only other person who seemed a bit okay was Yewande. I could tell she was tipsy, but she was not out of sorts.

I finally pulled up to Charles’ place around seven. I deposited my gear into the trunk of my Lexus. I told Charles we would see at work. Iffy stumbled into the house. She was really drunk. I turned to Yewande, who stood there looking at her friend as she disappeared into the house. I asked her if she needed a ride home. She hesitated at first, then nodded. She dropped her gear on the back seat and hopped in beside me.

The drive was quite nice. I guess the alcohol made her relax, as she was much freer with me this time around. I glanced over at her profile as we chatted; her hair blowing gently in the breeze coming in the window, her slim arms, the rise and fall of her chest in the pink shirt as she breathed, down to her smooth laps. I only gave her brief looks so as not to make her aware I was checking her out. She did really look good.

It took me about forty-five minutes to get to her place – a small community not far from a university (which she later told me was where she attended). She had fallen silent along the way, and I saw she had dozed off. I drove to the front of her building and parked at the entrance. I looked at her a few more moments, taking in her features again before I gently shook her. She started, and looked around before composing herself. She thanked me for the ride. For some reason, she did not get down immediately. Her hand lingered on the door handle. I reached over and patted her shoulder, and told her it was nice seeing her again. She smiled back at me. I hesitated a bit, and then with my heart in my mouth, I asked for her number. I told her I would like to meet up with her sometimes and catch up. She looked at me for a long time, without a smile nor frown. I began to wonder if I shouldn’t have, but she then smiled briefly. She reached for my phone in the center console and dialed her digits, making sure it rang on her end before placing it back down.

“Call me some time,” she said. She grabbed her gear from the back seat, smiled at me once more, before getting down and jogging up the stairs into her apartment complex.