bad

Blog, Essays

Roses And Orchids Are For The Bad Girls by Kelechi Eme

  The life of a woman has always been a topsy-turvy affair, especially in an environment inhabited by inglorious men draped in licking pants. They sit in judgment over the same women they devoured like wolves without scruples. This ‘Phariseeism’ trends highly among the upper class men that barely strode the thorn laden lane of poverty in search of elementary aliment needed to keep body and soul together. During my “career” as a social climber, I encountered men and women of diverse backgrounds. The women were less judgmental of my history than the men, yet the same men never took their hands off my body. I am a woman that passed through the rigours of life to attend my present status. I owe nobody an apology for my actions. Men ravaged my body, humiliated me and made me their item when reliving their libidinous escapades. Men will always put a woman down when they have the opportunity, so why should I spare them when the role is reversed to my advantage? I had barely finished my worship ministration when I received a note from the General Overseer of the church asking me to see him after the day’s programme. “Daughter of Zion, you brought down the host of angels this night. I want you to join me and a select group of prayer warriors for an all-night vigil immediately after the programme. GO”. He inscribed on a piece of paper. Without bordering my poor brain to decipher what the note meant, I concluded that he had planned another rendezvous in his usual meticulous manner. I took my seat among the “special church workers” and smiled to myself endlessly. “The joke is on the cheering and shouting congregation” I told myself. I silently indulged myself as the unofficial first lady of the church that boasts of over 100 branches across the globe. My thoughts drifted away from the service and dwelled in self-induced delusion of spiritual ecstasy laced with romantic eroticism. The plushy Golden Tulip Hotel, Accra located near the 37 Military Hospital roundabout prides itself as the first five star hotel in post democratic Ghana. Beyond the exquisite nature of its rooms, the general restaurant situated adjacent to the bar overlooking the swimming pool manifests splendor and affluence. The first lady of a mega Pentecostal church leisurely swam the full length of the pool in four return trips, flapping her arms in a manner that depicted supreme athleticism. She calmly climbed the steps and exited the pool and relaxed her body on a pool bed. Her eyes were still covered with her swimming goggles that made it practically impossible for her to be recognized by an unsuspecting watcher. However, the man seated at the tail end of the restaurant was not deceived. He was rather impressed by the good job she did in camouflaging herself. He had received a DHL package couriered from Lagos to Accra a few days earlier from a partner based in Lagos. It contained three different pictures of the woman he was watching in different poses. The written instruction was simple: “Maintain maximum surveillance as well as zero presence on the object in the picture. Report all activities on daily basis without exception.” She rose from the pool bed and walked quietly to the hotel room. “Welcome my angel. I was looking at you through the window.” A young male voice romantically greeted her while ushering her into the room. At the age of forty three (43) the woman still carried the body of a thirty (30) years old woman. Her youthful body had nothing to do with keeping fit or any special gene in her system. She has been sex starved for years since her husband sojourned to “Jelly land” without a return ticket. She was grossly unsexed. The young man in his early thirties was part of the delegation that accompanied her from Lagos to Accra on a missionary assignment. He has been working with her for two weeks and they have sensationally fallen in love but lacked time and “safety” for consummation. He grabbed her without ceremonies and tore her swimming trunk into shreds to behold the most challenging boobs he ever saw in lifetime. Mesmerized by the solidity of the boobs and the added incentive of shagging the wife of his boss, he “ordered” her to remain in a doggy position. She was temporarily disappointed that he was going to start right away without adequate romance. “Well half bread is better than nothing.” She consoled herself. To her relief, the young man knelt down under her tommy and began tongue massaging her in a manner she never believed existed. He worked on her with his tongue from her tommy to her reproductive orifice all the way to her anal circle and through the bum line to her hips. He occasionally bite her with his teeth. She cried, moaned and almost squeezed the living day light out of him. By the time he immersed his dick into her through the back, her sexual revival was complete. “You have brought peace and sanity to womankind.” She whispered inaudibly. “I will keep you forever Nat and nobody will transfer you away from my office.” She shouted at him. The General Overseer was putting finishing touches to his preparation for his presentation at a special programme in Abuja when he glanced at his computer and saw his wife in a merciless sexual orgy with one of his junior pastors. He was shocked at the ferocity of the copulating duo and caused his jelly like manhood. He knew his wife had a weakness for young and good looking men but he never contemplated the rapacious tigress he was seeing on his computer screen.  He shut down the computer and placed a call to a number with a hidden identity. “Your people in Accra are doing a “decent” job so far. I need the full report, pictures and videos sent to the Port Harcourt address I gave

Creative Essays, Writers

Bad Love by Juliana Lene.

“First, because I fell in love with you. Second, because your parents were good to me. I recognized them from the pictures in your house. That night, my sister left me for dead after another episode of sexual abuse and beatings.

Join our essay competition.

This will close in 13 seconds

Solverwp- WordPress Theme and Plugin

Scroll to Top