How to get wet in a roofless house!

I just had sex the Sunday before valentine, I had made a decision to be celibate. I wanted to focus, maybe I will discover myself, and maybe I might get love too.

I had been slow with writing. Don’t call me a poet! I write when I am angry, happy or not feeling anything: sometimes I want to write so badly, cry so loud and maybe masturbate till my clitoris hurts. For two months I couldn’t write, I needed to find myself and so I thought to create an experience, one that aligns with my mood.

When I left my house on Sunday I swear to whatever you believe in that I never had sex in mind. I just wanted to have my body touched. I wanted to get love or appreciation, maybe something to last a month or two. I took a book as a gift, maybe he will kiss me even more.

We talked a lot about God. He wasn’t a religious person at such times: he believed in God and his teachings but he preferred to sit at home on Sundays and play a video game; the same video game he was playing while I talked and talked about myself and my sister.

Let’s kiss I offered, I don’t know how to kiss he replied: I moved my lips to his, and he took my lower lip and savoured me like chocolates! I opened my eyes to look at him, but his eyes were closed, I felt turned on and continued.

Let’s fuck! I offered; he pretended not to hear me! He kept kissing me, lets fuck I offered again, I removed my jeans and laid down on a soft low bed, we kept trying to penetrate but it kept slipping out. I gave him a mouth job, I liked how he twisted his fist and struggled with his legs, instincts told me he was having a good time.

His organ was not too large a size, but I liked that I wouldn’t cry when he penetrated, even at that, his first thrust brought a tear to my eyes, not again I muttered. He kept thrusting in and out of me, what if I get pregnant? You won’t he said. He withdrew fast enough, but not fast enough! I had sperm on my thighs and forearm. I used the restroom, and got ready, he gave me a plate of salty pasta, and he talked about how he was indifferent about sex and how he wants to, if not marry someone who is like him, so he is trying so hard to be a better person. He told me about how he would like to get married in two years. My heart broke, marriage is a path I can’t follow, maybe later, but not today or tomorrow.

I came to my house, it has been without a roof for 14 days now. We were out of cash and time. But worry is a lazy man’s drug! So we had faith and believed in God for a miracle.

That night the rains came heavy and poured on me. I hate wetness; this type of wetness maybe, I pulled my baby cousin into my arms and spoke to my mom in assurance. My hair dripped while I mopped and cleaned the already gathering water on the sitting floor, it looked like some sought of the flood.

I pulled the chairs and mopped hard, I wiped a tear from sliding, I wished my dad was here. Mom made some funny jokes about her childhood in the village was worse, trips to the river and not even having a rug. I laughed and joked about my life in a government boarding house, my cousin laughed too.

We slept on a wet bed, I thought about touching myself a little, or maybe thinking about David. A mosquito landed on my lap. I slapped myself instead. I thought about him for a moment, I was not in love with him, love is a strong word used only by people with courage, selflessness and endurance, I only have the courage and little capacity to love or not to.

He never called me, I wish he did. Why do people explore me and leave me in the blank? I asked him how he felt about the last sex. I begged him to tell me, I really wanted to get drunk in his words. I wanted assurance that I am doing better or not, either way, I wanted talks from him, I wanted to write about his fine and black body. He never helped me, and for this, I am sore with hate, hate for men and all mankind who will never appreciate the special effort it takes me to give pleasure. I was random again.

The second rain came again three days later after the first and you will wonder if this was January. David came with chocolates and a book, he kissed me by the door as if to say ” long time no see” We talked for a few and the rain laughed at us again, we got wet and mopped again, this time it got heavier than the first. I particularly hated the way the rain made David mop, he looked cute in it. He helped me so much that I thought we might make a good couple. But we had talked about our sex life, he seemed happy with his, you could tell from his looks.

I couldn’t sleep. Neither was I awake, I sat on a stool because our bed was wet, and my phone woke me up from my slumber, it was my hiker’s friend telling me if I was coming out to hike. No, I said as I stood up from the chair I was on.

Today is Victor’s Rhapsody Majams’ one-year remembrance, exactly one year since I told him to leave if he wasn’t ready to rehearse, he left, he was the only consistent YWAP(youth with a purpose) member who came for the everyday rehearsals, we were preparing for the first hip-hop hurray concert, I was the team head.

I remember waking up to the news of his death, and I cried like I lost a baby, I went to the mortuary to find him and I didn’t see him.

He had a cardiac arrest while jogging, I cried so loud now, I wouldn’t have told him to leave, I wouldn’t have.

It’s not hard to get wet in a roofless house really, just get a mop and a bucket and tears.

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