One that was bigger and longer than his own. 

He just couldn't understand how a girl would have a pēnis. 

I didn't expect him to see my pēnis that soon.

He saw it when I went to shower in the bathroom. 

So, I had no choice but to tell him the truth when he showed me the jar he discovered under my bed which held the pēnis, and asked why it was there. 

He became more terrified when I answered it was a trophy from the last boyfriend who broke my heart.

© Desmond Ben

I didn't call him as I wanted to surprise him. 

For minutes after I reached his house, I knocked on the door but no one answered. 

I reached for the doorknob and turning it over, I realized that the door was open. 

Since my best friend and I were allowed into each other's house, I didn't hesitate to enter. 

I assumed that he and his wife were upstairs and probably didn't hear me knocking. 

I walked down their long corridor – the one that led into their big parlor. 

When I stepped into the parlor, I was barraged with the sweet smell of the assorted dishes lined up on their parlor's table. 

There were soup, rice, stew, pepper-soup, porridge yam, and even baked goodies like cake, meat pie, and sausage rolls. 

It was as if they were planning a small party or they were hosting people.

I took a seat on one of the soft cushions in the parlor, and I helped myself to one pie, chewing it quickly as it was burning hot. 

Less than a minute later, my best friend's wife ambled down the curved staircase, the small piece of a towel wrapped around her body barely covering her womanhood. 

With mashed pie still in my mouth, I gawked at her, my eyes bleēding with lust as I took her in. 

I could already feel the flesh in-between my legs hardening with want. 

"Ahh! I can see that you're already helping yourself," she said, a sweet smile wrinkling her pretty face. 

"Uh? Yea–yes," I stuttered, fumbling around in embarrassment. "Is your husband around?"

I wished with the utmost intensity that she would say no. I hoped my best friend was not at home so I would spend some sweet time with his wife.

"Yes, he is," she answered. My face fell with disappointment. "Take," she said, handing me a bottle of cold water. 

"Can I take more pie?" I asked shyly. I was kind of embarrassed that I asked for her permission now even though I've eaten one already. 

"Take as many as you want," she said kindly. I could almost swear that she winked, or maybe it was my imagination. 

"You said your husband is in the house?" I asked as I grabbed two pies. 

"Yes, he is," she responded, taking a seat on the couch opposite me. 

For a long period, I ate slowly while taking sly glances at the woman, cleverly feasting my eyes on her supple flesh. 

After some minutes, I began to get irritated and worried that my friend was yet to answer me, so I asked the woman between mouthfuls, "What's taking your husband so long? Where is he sef?"

With a gentle and polite smile, the woman replied calmly, "Look inside the pie you're eating."