‘Wait!!!!’ Segi yelled, trying to push him away, bucking her hips so that she could dislodge his head, but he tapped her thighs, silently asking her to keep still as his tongue delivered its swift ministrations down there, at the very core of her being. A long swish and then tiny flicks at the same lazy but firm pace, dancing to the rhythm of the beats playing only in his head. She did not know how he did it, but she had never come across anyone who could give head the way Keppy could.
She knew it would happen soon, could feel the build up and as the buzz in her veins. Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh.. soon, almost. She was coming, coming, com…. All of a sudden, it stopped as she crashed into alert wakefulness. What had happened? Why had it stopped? The s£nsat!ons in her K!ttyC@t had so felt real, as though someone had just touched her there. Sh*t. She had really been enjoying that dream. Why had she woken up right at the edge of her delicious come? Why had she roused?
Before the question left her head, she felt the kick again, this time, slightly firmer than the first. ’S.H, please I need some drinking water’ said the hoarse voice, heavy from sleep.
How about you get up from bed and get your own damned water. Who wakes another person for Sh*t like this? ‘Okay D.H, I’m coming.’ she said, as she groped for her phone in the dark, hoping to use it’s torch as illumination to the kitchen.
She shuffled, out of the room, irritated that she had been roused from her delicious dream, asked to perform a task that he could have done himself. She could still feel the tingling between her thighs. ‘Anyway’, she thought, ‘perhaps I will score some points from the Almighty for this, after all, we have been told to submit to our husbands.’ she said, slightly guilty because she ought to be so spirit filled that she should really not have these evil, yet so enjoyable dreams.
She was certain that none of the other women at the Pastors Wives Fellowship, where she was a new member, would be having these type of dreams. Many times, it was really hard being a Pastor’s wife. She was still not sure she was prepared for this.
She had first met her husband, Derin Hughes, a few years ago at their NYSC Camp in Oyo State.
He had been withdrawn and sulky in the first days of Camp because his aunty had promised him a Lagos posting. Unfortunately, the plan had not materialised and Oyo had come a close second.
Segilola on the other hand, had been excited to be in the Oyo Camp because one of her older male ‘friends’ had informed her that he had personally removed her name from the Zamfara State List. So she had been very excited to be in Oyo State, not so far from home.
Segi and Derin had been in the same platoon and she had been drawn to him when they had been conscripted into the Drama Group, alongside a few other too-eager-to-be-in-the-NYSC programme guys. Segi had liked the aloof air Derin had walked around with, like he was better than the rest of them. She had set out to be friends with him and the rest was history.
Derin had ticked all the right boxes for Segi. He was posh, seemed to have some money and had a lot of prospects. He had studied Economics at the University of Lagos. He could be considered a big boy, he even had a car back home. Derin had told her he lived in the posh Lekki area of Lagos.
She had been very enamoured with him on camp had worked on being friends with him, they had kept that friendship beyond the three week orientation camp after which he had gone back to his business in Lagos as he had agreed to a ‘settlement’ with the Coorodinators whilst she stayed back to ensure she was posted to Ibadan.
They had enjoyed many long, mid night calls and although she had rarely seen Derin in that service year, she knew they were in some sort of relationship, so she kept her ‘runs’ to a minimum. Derin was the one she had resolved to settle down with. She had believed everything he told her and it was not until it was time to meet his family for the introduction that things became a little clearer, but it was too late then because she had been two months pregnant. It was then that she realised that the ‘Lekki’ he referred to was actually past Ajah and his real car was an old banger. There was so much history that she did not want to dwell on.
Back to the present, she could hear the cockroaches as they scurried for cover, the irritating sound of their hairy legs as they crawled on nylon bags was enough to send her running, but she did not want him to begin grumbling again, so she braced up and did a cursory sweep of the kitchen with the light from her phone torch. Once she was certain that there were no roaches in sight, she cleaned a tray and served the water in a tall glass cup. She was not surprised that it was not cold. There was never any light here, anyway.
‘God bless you S.H, you are indeed a woman after God’s heart’ he said as he gulped the water down in a rush ‘Ha, its not cold?’ he asked as he dropped the glass back on the tray.
Why should it be, do you have a standby generator? ‘But you know there has been no Nepa since yesterday morning’ she responded, still irritated at the intrusion to her slumber. She had checked the time and it was 1.15a.m. In a few hours, she knew he would begin his morning prayers, which would disturb her sleep again for Derin’s prayers were sometimes very loud.
‘Okay, let us sleep my dear’ he said, patting the space beside him on the bed, silently informing her that there was no need to return the tray right now.
‘Let me quickly return the tray’ she said, hoping to sideline his obvious intentions. When her husband pat the bed like that, it only meant one thing and she was not ready for a repeat of last night’s experience. It had been the same story all over again. Her spiritual husband had come before she had even begun to get wet. The worst part was that he expected her to be grateful for his ‘ministrations’. She was not ready to be disillusioned again this night and so, she stayed back to wash the cup and tray, she also refilled the bottle from the water dispenser. She stayed back until she suspected that he should have sifted back into sleep before she went back into the room and sat gently on the edge of the bed to analyse her dream.
She knew from the many conversations they had in the Women’s Fellowship that there was such a thing as ‘Spirit Husbands’. Was it possible that she, the praying wife of a Pastor could be visited by a Spirit Husband? Even if her prayers were not strong enough, was she not sleeping on the same bed with a spirit filled man? What could the problem then be? To be honest she thought it is not as though I really mind, is it? this Keppy guy brings it on every time. It seems to be the most delicious s*x I have had in ages. She wondered if it was a pure coincidence that Keppy came only when she had unsatisfied urges from the rubbish performance her husband gave.
‘But wait, I have never seen his face in the dream, so how do I know his name?’ she wondered. ‘Keppy…. Keppy… do I know anybody that goes by that name?’ she searched her mind and realised that there was nobody she knew by that name. She cast a glance over her shoulder to confirm that her husband had slept even deeper and decided to shelve the worries for now. She needed the deep bliss of sleep. As she lay her body on the bed, she heard his hoarse voice, gruff from sleep, ’S.H, oya come to papa’.
Segilola rolled her eyes and conceded, aware of the fact that even indomie noodles cooked slower than her hubby’s come.
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