-Heron At Desert

Must Read: Heron At Desert… Part 1

“Dele, stop it.” She breathes.

I hold back my hand slowly. I smile as she turns her back at me I watch her spotless, creamy-brown figure like it’s the first time she is lying next to me on bed. Her delicate hips, alongside her overall pleasing features, always trill me.

I have been asleep for over five hours since I collapsed to the bed at 9pm. My early sleep was due to my long wait for a bus in that heavy rain last night; even now my blood is still frozen. The effort of my blanket proves futile to subdue the shiver … My potent organ is the only hot part. That is due to the ‘agbo jedi’ (local herb) I took while at work yesterday. Indeed, it is my lustful thing that aroused me from sleep.

Again, my hand crawls gently towards those robust breasts which befit a lady of twenty-seven, who had apparently not abused her body. Although she is still on pyjamas. Over the two years of our marriage, that was how I have always roused her. I got to know that rubbing those parts was one of her weak points, followed by working my tongue and lips from the tips of her toes up to her groin. In fact , that would make her body travel out of this world … But that is needless right now – my body is really shouting for an urgent help.

“Bamidele … stop this rubbish!” Her voice turns up a little.
She shifts her beautiful frame to the edge of the bed – her body wriggles.
There is something more to this, I think … She hardly addresses me by my full name. She had once told me she found it romantic calling me by that short form.

“Titi, what is all this now?”

I can sense a tremor in my voice.
I don’t know what will become of me if Titi wouldn’t let me convert the chill on my body to perspiration. Sexual urge darts across my body like hummingbird hunting for food from one twig to another.

“I am not in the mood for this nonsense, okay?” She says, turning her face to me.

The light is off. But The reflection of the street lights through the windowpane leaves a glimmer from which I can see the annoyance that emits from Titi’s eyes.

“You call this nonsense?” My voice breaks out from shiver at last, but still in a low tone like hers, “The same thing you said yesterday – you were not in the mood. The day before; same thing … I overlooked those ones because there was neither rain nor cold … Do you want me to die from cold before daybreak?”

“What is this thick blanket meant for … ehn?” She feels the texture of the blanket in her hand, obviously to emphasize her statement, “if you are not satisfied with that, this pillow is big enough for you to get rid of the cold .. please don’t disturb me. I need a rest.”

“When do you want us to produce that glorious seed if you keep avoiding this?”

Titi’s throat burst out with a mocking laughter, “You don’t cease to amuse me, you this man,” She continues laughing, and says in a fake romantic tone, “Those ones we have been doing since all these while, what have they yielded, my dear?”

“Didn’t we go to the doctor together last week? He said none of us has problem hindering childbirth… So what fault are you heaving upon me?”

“What-e-ver,” she says, waving her hand as if warding off a mosquito across my face. She resumes her position – facing the other side.

I take a long sigh, and shake my head.
Not now that I’ve taken advice from a co-worker that a ‘local herbal concoction’ would boost my libido since I now engage in a hard-work. He said the herb would strengthen my backbone for a better performance. Yesterday was my first time of giving it a try. My weakness lately is the reason why she has been avoiding me. I believe she is using that infertility as an excuse. But can one actually call three or four rounds of lovemaking a weakness?
it’s either I test this ‘agbo jedi’ on your body now or I die. There is nothing like assaulting one’s housewife, of course. I must force you. It’s today you will know I have become a man, like I was during our early marriage – stronger than a horse!
Without any further thought, I suddenly shove her from the edge of the field to the center, where the match would be comfortable to play.

“What are you trying to do?” She says as she struggles with me. I am trying to seize her hands to the bed. It’s either I tear off the pyjamas and the inner wears if they would be the obstacles to this Important assignment – even if I decide to relent, the spirit of that herb will not allow me.

“Do you want to rape your own housewife?” The word heaves out of her throat between the struggle, but still in a low tone.

Housewife indeed – a so-called housewife would only deprive her husband of this commodity for five consecutive days. I don’t want to say a word until this mission is accomplished. I keep struggling, and she keeps proving a superwoman with me.

“I will shout o!” she pants.

“You dare not shout,” I clutch at her panties, after taking off her pyjamas, “only a shameless housewife will do that in the middle of the night, you know.”

Now, her strength seems to intensify. I am not surprised about that. Her father is from Calabar, and her mother, Ondo state.
She pushes me roughly, but I maintain my position on top of her. At last, I bury my head into her bosoms.
As if a cold water is poured on a fire, her body calms at once. Her struggling hands drop weak to the bed, and she is holding me closer. Moans of pleasure releases from her mouth. Oh! My potent organ will swing to action at last. I will soon be there, baby – Oh yeah….

Suddenly, I feel a painful pierce on my chest.


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