As the radiant morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating the silent house, a concerned mother, heart brimming with unconditional love and worry, continued to tread cautiously, her steps echoing softly on the polished wooden floor. Her eyes swept across the expanse of the house, her ears straining to detect even the faintest sound of laughter that usually danced through the rooms. “Where could he be?” she wondered, a mixture of anxiousness and fondness intertwining within her like the tendrils of ivy on a trellis, refusing to let go. A tapestry of memories began to unravel within her mind, each thread weaving a poignant reminder of the extraordinary bond they shared. She recalled the joyous nights spent under starry skies, laughter ringing through the halls as they played their cherished games of hide-and-seek. The sweet scent of his favorite food, wafting from the kitchen, would never fade from her memory, for it was interspersed with the twinkling delight lighting up his face. How her heart overflowed with delight as she watched him relish each morsel, his eyes lit with an innocent radiance that mirrored her own unwavering affection.
In the stillness of the house, she recollected the familiar pout that formed on his lips whenever sadness cast its shadow upon his spirit. Oh, how she longed to chase away every trace of sorrow, to wrap him in a blanket of comfort and serenity in those darkest moments. In her mind, she replayed countless nights spent lying beside him, tracing imaginary constellations on the ceiling, sharing secrets and tender whispers. Their hearts entwined, he was her beacon of light, her sun after the storm, a steadfast reminder of the fierce love a mother carries within her. During those tender moments, as she followed the trail of his laughter, she retraced his hopes and seemingly impossible dreams. She remembered the glint in his eyes when he spoke of his aspirations as a child. Pencil and paper became his portal to worlds unknown, where he could build towering castles and embark on daring adventures. She listened intently to his animated stories, his voice filled with an intoxicating passion that ignited her own spirit. Though time may have painted reality in different hues, these tender memories remained engraved in her heart, a testament to the extraordinary young soul that once treated upon these same floors.
Every success he achieved, every hardship he overcame, she celebrated with fervor, etching each accomplishment deep within her memory. Yet, his unique ability to shine in his own light, to illuminate the spaces around him with his contagious laughter and gentle spirit, was what truly captivated her. No length of separation could extinguish the fire that burned fiercely within her, for the love she harbored for her son transcended time and space. In the quiet moments, she could almost hear the sound of his voice, envisioning him pursuing his passions and chasing dreams as vibrant as the colors of the Aurora Borealis. As she continued her search, fervently retracing the steps that he had taken in this maze of memories, her heart overflowed with emotions that words could not adequately capture. Each cherished memory, a mosaic of beautiful moments, every detail held intrinsic value, painting an exquisite portrait of the extraordinary young soul that had once graced her life. The scent of nostalgia enveloping her, she vowed to never lose faith, for she knew that the universe had not extinguished his light entirely. In every quiet corner and hushed hallway, she whispered fervent prayers, sending her love and hope out into the world, trusting that one day their paths would intertwine once more, and their spirits would reunite like the dawn embracing the night.
After tracing the echoes of his laughter, she finally arrived at his room. Behind his closed door, she can hear faint whimpers, like one in pain. She can hear his short gasps for breath and moans like a child sobbing for the loss of his favorite toy and in that instant, she yanks the handle of the door and bursts it open. She shouldn’t have… It was him and the wheelbarrow boy…oh no!
Laolu looked pretty drunk, but this monster of a dick in front of him should have sobered him. She watched on, in shock, as he carefully placed one hand around the middle, realizing his small fingers weren’t enough to cover it by almost half, his dick was far larger than her husband’s. Chinedu, yes, that was his name, guided his head down, the large mass making its way into the hot wet recesses of his mouth. Laolu sucked it slowly at first, his enthusiasm growing as he lost himself in sheer desire for such an impressive piece of meat. He struggled at first to take it in, but thanks to the alcohol or whatever he was on, loosening him up, found he was able to take it pretty deep, his head bobbing up and down furiously as slobber dribbled down the shaft and over his balls. He kept moaning, spurring him on faster and further, wet gags escaping his mouth as he took him as far down his throat as he could, his hand massaging his large black testicles as he did, within a few minutes, he was ready to burst.
She watched on as shame and shock was boldly etched on her face. They had been right all along, the people. She had refused to believe and thought they only wanted to punish her after finding out her crimes. She thought they had been too harsh and irrational for using her son as a scapegoat and not coming for her directly. But here it was, everything playing out before her eyes. Laolu, her son and a prince at that, servicing another male like a cheap harlot. It was painful. The pain of birthing a colossal disgrace.
Laolu let him take over, craning his head back, his tongue sticking out and his fat black dicks slapping against the surface of it repeatedly as he jerked his sloppy wet dick directly towards his throat. He went off like a cannon, splashing a heavy load directly into his mouth, making him wince, the rest blowing out over his face and into his hair, thick ropes of semen clinging to his skin. He wasn’t shocked, swallowing what had landed in his mouth, thrilled by the slightly sweet and delicious flavor.
While she was still watching, Chinedu bent him over abruptly, Laolu fumbling for something to hold as he slapped his black cock down over the crack of his ass before sliding it down, searching for his point of entry. He started pushing it up his ass, making him wince and moan louder. Instead of stopping, he kept pushing, Laolu gripping the whatever he was holding tighter as his saliva slick cock stretched his ass out, making him push up on the tip of his toes. He started pumping, grabbing his slender hips and pulling him back hard. She knew the pain from this primitive and abominable expression of their love was hot, searing and enormous and she saw her son enduring it like a champion. It might have just been the effects of whatever they were on but to her, he seemed to find it strangely pleasurable, each thrust sending a spike of pleasure throughout his body as he dominated him from behind, the rubbish he had spewed on his face shaking and dripping down.
Ajoke could hear her son asking for more, pleading in a hushed demand, reaching underneath himself now to stroke himself to his rhythm. She was overwhelmed by what she was watching. What was more infuriating was that she had been standing at the door watching, hoping they’d notice her and recoil in shame of their actions but they were simply engulfed in pleasuring themselves in this vile and atrocious manner. Something in her head told her she had to put an end to this. She called his name. No response. Just pure interest in what he was doing. She called louder. No response still. She began walking towards them, holding the right foot of her bata in her right hand. As she got closer, she saw their skins gleaming with sweat. The smell of testosterone and sex wafting into her nose and finding its way into her brains. They still seemed oblivious of her presence in the room till now. She raised her shoe in the air and swatted Laolu with it and surprisingly, it went right through him without him even noticing it. What was happening? She wanted explanations. She tried to grasp him. Again, her hands went through him. Was this a dream or an impossible work of fiction, her puzzled mind questioned.
He continued crushing his way inside all the way up to his balls, Laolu, finding himself being pushed to a hard orgasm thanks to both of their efforts. He felt him tense, another hot gush of sperm pumping directly inside him, his own free hand hammering on the head of his bed in a fist as he struggled to stand, his legs shaking and his hole practically dripping wet.
Laolu didn’t care if he was spent, he needed him inside his boypussy… again… NOW, as he pushed him into the bed, and switched places with him again, this time lowering himself down and straddling him reverse cowgirl style, wincing again as his big black dick stretched his hole wide apart. He wasted no time, slamming his pelvis down, pumping and working his hips, the deep strokes in his already sensitive pussy quickly causing his engorged cock to race towards another orgasm. Apparently, Chinedu wasn’t done with him either, grabbing his hips and pulling him down hard, pushing himself up, Laolu practically screaming as loud wet slaps echoed through the tiled room. It wasn’t long before his legs went weak, trembling as he repeatedly climaxed, creaming all over his cock, Chinedu straining as he pumped a third dose of superior black sperm directly into his unprotected pussy. They both sat still for a moment after that, his cock raw and spent, both his ass and cock aching and sensitive.
Ajoke couldn’t believe she had seen this whole episode. Her heart was racing. Her hands and legs were shaking. She continued watching them smile and stare at themselves like newlyweds, deeply in love with themselves. In that instant, regret swept over her in torrents. She regretted the day she met Julius, Laolu’s father, the construction engineer from Lagos. She regretted parting her legs for him. What was more unfortunate than a woman birthing a homosexual? A man who craved the touch of his fellow man. She regretted all those times she had poured her unwavering, unconditional and undying love on him. He was the devil’s specimen, a curse. What had she done to deserve this curse? Was she the only sinner on earth? Why had the divine one chosen to punish her like this?
She understood this was a vision. It could all be fake. What if this was just a fragment of her imaginations? Had there ever been a time she thought her son was gay? What if this was just something to deter her from getting what she wanted? But how had she not noticed? He was too handsome to be male, too soft spoken to not be female, his mannerisms and body language was anything but masculine. Oh God. Hot tears were running down her eyes now. She had removed her Gele from her head and had slowly sunk to the floor in utter disbelief and shame. What would people say now? That she had taken this perilous journey for a gay child? Her disgust almost choked her as she mentioned that word. It was every shade of filthy and vile.
IRETIOLA
Let us embark on a journey to shed light upon a grave injustice perpetrated against a woman, which had profound and everlasting consequences for both her and her descendants. In an era long past, in a society encumbered by archaic views and moral constraints, a woman’s rightful place was cruelly taken from her, and bestowed upon her junior sister. The tragic circumstance that led to this unimaginable turn of events was the fact that she was deemed an illegitimate child. Her mother was already seven months pregnant before she ran away from her abusive husband. She had fled to Osogbo and that was when she met a man who had taken her in, cared for her and married her shortly. Soon, her new husband, Akaredolu, had taken ill and died leaving her mother with another pregnancy. The pregnancy was a few weeks old. She didn’t even know she was pregnant. After his death, his siblings began to fight themselves for who would inherit his properties as he did not have a child before he died. Her mother had single handedly gathered his extended family, businesses and everything he left behind. She shared everything equally amongst everyone, broke up the family and turned it into a settlement. A few months later when she learnt of the pregnancy, it was already too late to recover what the child’s father had left behind. Thinking the child would be a boy, she called the family together for a meeting and requested that her child would become the leader of the settlement when he became a man. Everyone unanimously agreed because they had taken his inheritance. The least they could offer now was their support and submission. Alas, the child came and it was a girl. As the girl grew, the people searched for a befitting title. Ireti was born into a world that was unsympathetic to her existence. Her illegitimate birth condemned her to a life marred by societal stigma and discrimination from its very inception. As a consequence, her natural rights were trampled upon before she even had a chance to fight for them. It was this merciless act that laid the foundation for a lifetime of struggles and sorrow. Her rightful place, a birthright that should have been hers to claim as the firstborn, was unceremoniously seized by her sister, a junior in age but legitimate in the eyes of society. The act itself, though seemingly insignificant to some, forever altered the trajectory of her life and those who came after her. It represented an acceptance of the notion that legitimacy trumped all else and that she and her offspring were unworthy of the respect and privileges afforded to others.
The immediate impact of this blatant injustice was apparent in Ireti’s diminished opportunities and limited prospects. Denied access to education, social networks, and opportunities for advancement, she was forced to navigate a treacherous path, an uphill battle against ignorance and prejudice. With each passing day, she was reminded of her status as an outcast, a societal pariah shackled by her birth alone. Furthermore, the repercussions extended far beyond her own existence. As she ventured into adulthood, she dreamt of building a life for herself and her future children. However, the limitations imposed upon her dictated that her offspring would inevitably inherit the constraints placed on her by a society that relegated illegitimate children to the fringes. The cycle of discrimination continued, handed down from generation to generation, like an unbroken chain binding the descendants to the wrongs inflicted long ago. Her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren would bear witness to the pervasive effects of this injustice. Denied opportunities and life advancements, and even simple acknowledgment, they embarked upon their own journeys in life carrying upon their shoulders the burdens of their lineage’s past. The scars run deep, transcending time and distance, forever shaping the course of their existence. The wrongful act of stripping Ireti of her rightful place due to her illegitimate birth had far-reaching consequences that cast a shadow over her life and that of her descendants. This staggering injustice robbed her of opportunities, happiness, and societal recognition, ultimately perpetuating a cycle of discrimination that had a profound and enduring impact on future generations.
***
How would you go to war with a weapon you cannot use? Why would you take the dance steps of spirits when you are just a mere mortal? A slight occurrence in the scheme of things.
It’s been three days since she had a meeting with the spirits and slumped. Three days of lying as lifeless and as vulnerable as a vegetable. Everything she had fought so hard to protect was vulnerable too. In the depths of her heart, Ireti felt an exuberant sense of jubilation as she discovered that her worst enemy had finally been dealt a heavy blow. A sinister smile stretched across her face, radiating satisfaction as she relished in this long-awaited victory. For years, she had meticulously planned, intricately maneuvering through a web of calculated actions, all geared towards this moment. Her devilish plans had finally begun to fall into place like dominoes, and she could almost taste the sweet nectar of success. Every step she had taken, every sacrifice she had made, had led her to this pinnacle of triumph. The weight of her adversary’s downfall lifted a tremendous burden off her shoulders, replacing it with a profound sense of liberation. The torment she had endured at the hands of this nemesis was finally coming to an end. Her heart swelled with joy and an unyielding belief that her life would now take an upward turn, free from the shackles of enmity. As her mind swam with visions of what lay ahead, she relished the thought of the universe aligning in her favor, enabling her to forge a new path towards true happiness.
Life was a book. A book of endless chapters and stories. One occurrence led to a reaction and the reaction to another occurrence. It went on and on and on. She couldn’t quantify the hatred she felt for Ajoke. It was too much. Ajoke had taken everything from her. Her place as the Oba Obinrin.
What would the people do when they learnt Ajoke wasn’t the rightful Oba Obirin. Another sinister smile stretched across her face.
