As I said this, Nana’s expression warmed. She reached over and grabbed my hand. “Of course, Lanre. I’ve been silly. I’m asking a lot of you. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand. I’m sorry for being childish about it.”
On the way back to our apartments, she asked me if I wanted to spend the night. I agreed. A few hours later, we were lying on her bed, watching TV. Nana was wearing a very thin tank top, with no bra, and tiny pyjama shorts that showed off all of her slender legs. It was as if she was trying to get a rise out of me. And she succeeded. I had an erection from nearly the moment I walked into the apartment, and I was certain she noticed.
As we watched TV, though, she was unusually quiet. I had the distinct feeling that she was trying to build up the courage to say something. Sure enough, she eventually came out with it.
“Can I ask you something personal, Lanre?”
“Um, okay.”
“How many girls have you…um…been with?”
“You mean slept with?”
“Yes, fucked. Not cuddled.”
I knew the exact number immediately, of course, but I pretended I had to think about it. Eventually, I said, “more than 10, less than 20.”
“And is it always…um…like that?” She motioned towards the wall separating our apartments, clearly referencing my encounter with Bisi a few nights before. “Is it always that…intense?”
I smiled. “Not always, no. It depends on the situation. And the person. Why?”
“It’s just that, well, I’ve only ever been with two men, and when I heard you the other night, I…well…I just couldn’t help thinking that maybe there’s a lot I don’t know. I know I’m being incredibly forward with you, Lanre, but I wonder if you could describe it for me. What was she like? What did she do?”
Over the next ten minutes or so, I described, in considerable detail, my night with Bisi. Nana hung on to my every word, occasionally interjecting with questions. She wanted to know every little thing Bisi did that I found sexy. I tried to describe the things I remembered, but it was often difficult to find the right words. But I did my best, and the effort to relive the encounter succeeded, if nothing else, in making me enormously aroused. My cock was practically bursting out of my shorts.
And that’s when things got interesting.
You know, Lanre, I’ve been thinking. It’s not fair for me to ask you to play this role, to be this boyfriend surrogate, while not ever taking care of your needs.”
“Nana, it’s really okay…”
“No, hear me out, Lanre. I want to propose a deal, a bargain if you will. I want to learn from you. I want to learn how to be a good lover to Kwesi. I want to know how men tick, what gets you worked up, what you really like and want. Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not going to have sex with you, Lanre. I can’t do that to Kwesi. But if you’re willing to be completely open with, to tell me absolutely everything, to share all your desires and fantasies, I am willing to provide that…that…outlet for you.”
I can only imagine what kind of expression I had on my face at this point in the conversation. I’m sure it was some mixture of shock and confusion. I understood what she was asking of me, but she was being pretty cryptic about what she was offering in exchange. After a few moments, I finally said, “What do you mean by ‘outlet’?”
She smiled. “Well, Lanre, I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. If we’re going to go down this road, we need some clear ground rules. In exchange for your…um… candour, I’ll…um…let you see me. All of me.”
“You mean see you naked?”
“Yes, and you can…um…touch yourself…wank…in front of me, whenever you want. That’s part of what I want to learn. I want to see how you do that.” She paused before continuing, “But that’s it, Lanre. The rest is for Kwesi. I’m not going to touch you and you’re not going to touch me. And I’m not going to touch myself in front of you, either. Only Kwesi gets to see me come.”
“Do you think he would be okay with the rest of what you’re proposing?” I asked sceptically.
“Doubtful,” she conceded, “but he doesn’t have to know, and I will be doing it for him. If I can learn how to really please him, he’ll benefit from it for the rest of his life.”
There was a real earnestness in her voice. This didn’t seem like some rationalization she had come up with just to justify cheating on her fiance or alleviating her loneliness. She seemed to have genuinely convinced herself that this would ultimately benefit her relationship.
“Are you sure you won’t regret this? I really don’t want to be a home breaker here.”
“Homebreaker? Is that what you Nigerians call it?” She was smiling. “You’re a sweetheart, Lanre, but I’ve thought a lot about this, and it’s okay. Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah, I guess we do,” I said, reaching over to shake Nana’s hand. “So what next?”
*
Nana smiled warmly. “Well you’ve already contributed quite a bit tonight, so I suppose I need to make a good-faith showing of my own.”
With that, she sat up and scooted over a bit on the bed, creating a little space between us. Then she moved her hands up to the spaghetti straps of the tank top she was wearing and slowly pushed them off of her shoulders.
After a few more tantalising seconds, she pulled the front of her tank top down, simultaneously exposing both of her breasts. To this day, that image is still burned into my retinas. Her breasts were flawless, large and natural, perfect for cupping in your hands if only that was allowed.
“So you like?” she asked, with the confidence of someone who already knew the answer.
I just nodded, very much aware of the erection now bulging beneath my thin pyjama trousers. After what must have been at least 30 seconds of me just staring at her breasts, transfixed, I eventually spoke, “So…what now?”
She smiled again and said, “Well, here’s what I was thinking. I’ll keep these out. Stare as long as you like. And while you’re doing that, why don’t you tell me another sexy story. You can choose. Just tell me about a memorable encounter.”
My brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, so it took me a bit to come up with a story to share, but I eventually thought of one. I began to tell her, haltingly at first, about the time my first year in university when a girl I had just met led me into a closet in a hostel and gave me an unexpected blowjob.
Before I had even gotten a few sentences into the story, Nana interrupted me. “Lanre, you should really feel free to…you know, touch yourself as you tell the story. I know you want to.”
She was certainly right about that. My erection was so persistent that it was taking a significant percentage of my concentration just to resist grabbing it. So I stopped fighting the urge and let my right hand grasp my cock over my shorts.
I continued with the story, describing how the girl, a girl who had come by our dorm to hang out with a friend, had chatted me up for a while and then, once we found ourselves briefly alone, had taken me by the hand and led me into a small toilet in her friend’s dorm room. I could tell that Nana was hanging on to my every word.
Once in the dark toilet, the girl – her name was Wunmi, I think – immediately went to her knees and began unzipping my fly. A few seconds later, my trouser was down around my knees and my cock was in her mouth.
“Oh my,” Nana interrupted, “that’s pretty forward. Are all Nigerian girls so quick to suck cock?”
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