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Wahala For Who Get Nsukka

A Wife
went On Holiday
leaving The Husband
behind. The Husband
got So Hot One Day
that He Decided To Try The Maid Who
had Just Come From

...

Iloanaeke14 471

I Was Barely 10 The First Time Auntie Fumilayo Touched Me.
And She Went On To Do This Until I Graduated From School.
Everything Bega

...

Iloanaeke14 396

I was barely 10 the first time Auntie Fumilayo touched me.

And she went on to do this until I graduated from school.

Everything began on a hot Saturday morning.

That day, Aunt Bimpe, Auntie Fumilayo’s mother had left for work in one of the busiest markets in Abeokuta.

And I was in the street, playing soccer with the neighborhood kids.

My team was losing by 3 - 2, and I was annoyed by this. So, when I trapped the ball as it was maneuvered towards me, I dribbled it past our opponents, heading to the goalpost at the other end.

The hails and jeers from the spectators prompted me on, and just as I was about to kick off the ball, I heard my name.

I halted, waiting to see if they’d call again.

“Ayomide!” I heard Auntie Fumilayo bellow again from inside of our house.

Though I was irritated because I had missed the chance to even our scores, I left my team members to answer Auntie Fumilayo because I knew how ruthless she can be.

I went into our compound, and headed into the house. My heart was palpitating with fear of what I had done. I knew that Auntie Fumilayo only called when one has gone awry.

“Auntie Fumilayo?” I called when I entered the parlor.

“Here,” she said.

I went through the corridor that led to her room for that was where her voice had come from.

“Come in,” she said as I reached her door. She must have heard the sound of my feet dragging across the floor.

I walked into the room. Auntie Fumilayo was laying on her bed, reading a worn-out copy of ‘The Joy Of Motherhood’.

“Close the door, and come here,” Auntie Fumilayo said as she rose from the bed to sit on it.

With trembling fingers, I bolted the door. Though I didn't know what I had done wrong that morning for I had washed the plates and cleaned the house before going out to play, I still feared that she would whip me with her cane, or even with the pointed end of her high heel shoes; she had done that once.

“Come and sit here,” she repeated, tapping her dark, meaty thighs.

I stepped over to sit where she had directed me. I sat rigidly on her thighs, lest I irritate her.

“You know I like you, Ayomide,” Auntie Fumilayo said, her fingers coming up to caress my sweaty back.

Just as her hand rolled up on my back again, I realized that I was holding my breathe even though I didn't remember doing it.

In one swift movement, Auntie Fumilayo snatched my right hand, and holding it firmly, she led it into her flowery dress, resting it on the soft, wet, mound of flesh in-between her legs.

“Auntie –” I croaked.

“Shut up,” Auntie Fumilayo warned, her face contorting into an ugly frown. “Don’t say a word of this to anyone, or else, I will kîll you.”

I nodded as hot tears rolled down my face.

Then she wriggled her fingers into my trousers, and taking ahold of my pènis, she twisted it here and there.

And just like that, I lost my innocence to Aunty Fumilayo that day.

When we were done, my penis was swollen, and the tip of it was stinging terribly. I felt no pleasure at all.

Before I left her room, Auntie Fumilayo pulled a bar of milky biscuit from the drawer beside her bed.

“Take,” she said to me. I collected it before I left her room.

It happened again three days later. That night, I had gone to the toilet to urinate before I’ll retire to bed.

I had barely entered the toilet when Auntie Fumilayo followed. She closed the door, and pushed me to the wall.

“I don’t want to hear your voice,” she said as she unbuckled my belt. “My mother is in the parlor.”

I nodded because I knew Auntie Fumilayo and how mean she could get. I had learned long ago not to annoy her.

She hurriedly removed her skirt, then she asked me to kneel and lick her womanhood. Even though I didn’t like it, I did it for there was nothing I could do.

I sniffled as my tongue lapped at the flesh. The sour and tangy flavor of it tasted acrid to my young tongue.

After minutes of using me to pleasure herself, she asked me to stand, then she knelt herself.

She didn’t even allow me to catch my breath before she swallowed my penîs into her warm mouth.

“Kpom!” a knock came from outside and Auntie Fumilayo and I scrambled apart.

“Who is there?” we heard her Aunty Bimpe’s voice ask from outside.

My heart has never pounded so loudly in my life; I could hear it with my own ears. I felt hot sweat break down my back.

“Ahmmm” Auntie Fumilayo cleared her throat, then she stuttered, “It’s me, mummy.”

“Are you defecating?” Aunty Bimpe asked.

“Yes, I am,” Auntie Fumilayo said.

“Did you see Ayomide?” asked Aunty Bimpe.

“I think he went to the backyard earlier,” Auntie Fumilayo said.

“Okay,” we heard Aunty Bimpe say as she receded back.

No sooner had she gone than Auntie Fumilayo asked me to wear my clothes and rush to my bed. She also dressed and ran out herself. That was what had saved me from her that day.

Auntie Fumilayo kept repeating this. She would call me into her room anytime her mother was out of the house, or she would sneak into mine at night to fondle me. And because of this, she began to buy me presents and gift me things.

Day and night, I wished nothing more than for Auntie Fumilayo to return to school for she was a student of University of Nigeria, Nsukka.

I wished sometimes that her mother would catch us for I was too scared to tell the woman myself.

I wished I could return to our house in the village, to stay with my mother and my siblings, especially Laide, my youngest brother.

But I knew that this was impossible for after Papa dièd in a motorcycle accident, things became extremely hard for us. Mama could barely feed everyone, all seven of us, so she sent the older ones amongst us out, to lessen her burden.

Mama had sent me me to Aunty Bimpe, her younger sister who lived in Abeokuta.

Living with Aunty Bimpe was generally cool, excepting the fact that her only daughter, Auntie Fumilayo, was hot-tempered and harsh.

My relief soon came when Auntie Fumilayo‘s school resumed and she traveled.

But my relief was short lived. After Auntie Fumilayo left, I fell ill. I was so down that I could barely stand up so I stayed in bed all day, trembling and sweating profusely.

Aunty Bimpe was the one who took care of me. She brought me food, medicine and water.

And when it got too bad, she resorted to mopping my body with a towel since I was beginning to stink for I couldn’t get up to bathe myself.

“Hmmm, this boy,” Aunty Bimpe said as she wiped my naked body with the towel. “Your penîs is bigger than you. How can a small boy of your age carry something this big?”

I was too weak to answer.

Three days later, I began to recover speedily, and barely a week later, I was up and bubbly.

Two weeks later, I was sleeping in my room when I felt something touch my trouser. Terrified, I sat up quickly only to see that it was Aunty Bimpe.

“Shhh!” Aunty Bimpe said, then she began to fondle my body, reaching into my trouser to grab my manhood.

That day, I had my first penetrative sèx. I lost my virginity that day to the woman to whom Mama had entrusted me.

Since there was no one in the house to avoid, Aunty Bimpe came to me every night. She only stopped after Auntie Fumilayo returned.

Even then, I was weary myself for though Aunty Bimpe stopped, Auntie Fumilayo began hers again.

She sneaked into my room at every opportunity she got.

This kept happening – Aunty Bimpe would start once her daughter travels to school, and Auntie Fumilayo would start once she returns.

This continued till I graduated secondary school and gained admission into the university.

In school, whenever my friends came together to talk about their sexûal escapades – their first kiss or sèx, I would lie and tell them my first sexûal experience was with a girl named Mary. After all, I couldn’t tell them that I had my first sexuàl experiences with my mother’s younger sister, Aunty Bimpe, and her daughter, Auntie Fumilayo.

Whenever I came back for the holidays, one of the women would sneak into my room to have sèx with me.

There was nothing I could really do, but all these soured my mood and affected my mental health. I grew thinner and thinner each day, and they themselves blossomed with health and buoyancy.

“Why do you look thin and weak these days?” Mr. Yemi, Aunty Bimpe‘s husband, had asked one day. It was during one of his rare visits. He worked in a petrochemical company in PortHarcourt so he came once in a while to see us.

“Nothing, Uncle. It’s just school strèss,” I lied. I knew it was not school that caused my depreciating mental and physical health but Aunty Bimpe and Auntie Fumilayo’s constant sèxual abuse. But who would help?

I soon reached my final year in school, and by this time, Auntie Fumilayo had been married off to one man, a pastor of Deeper Life Church. Pastor Kalu, he was named.

Sometimes, she still snuck into my room to have sèx with me during one of her visits to her father’s house. And by the end of everything, I was left breathless and so was she.

Nine years has come and gone. I now have a promising career as a doctor in Abeokuta General Hospital. Things are going great for me; I have a fiancé, and I own a house and drive two cars.

It’s been long since I saw or spoke with Aunty Bimpe and Mr. Yemi for they had traveled out of the country after Mr. Yemi retired from his company.

The worse of it all was Auntie Fumilayo. She had dîed last year due to breàst cancer. Her deàth took a toll on her husband’s health. The poor pastor was inconsolable for months. Even now, his demeanor was hardly cheerful.

Even though it’s has been long – years – since I suffered the sexûal abuses from Aunty Bimpe and Auntie Fumilayo’s hand, I am still troubled by the dark memories. There were days when I jerk from sleep, sweating and breathing harshly for I had had a nightmare about those forlorn days. There were times when I felt a hatred, deep and scorching, not only for Aunty Bimpe and Auntie Fumilayo, but myself, too.

These past memories were not the only things plaguing my mind. I am also reminded and haunted by another thing – a deep stunning secret that might haunt me for the rest of my life;

That Jennifer and Esther, Auntie Fumilayo and Pastor Kalu’s children, are my biological daughters.

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