Dial - Season 2 - Episode 88

4 years ago

Dial - Season 2 - Episode 88

It was a huge, airy and neat room, designed with the taste and touch of a woman.

She was sitting on the bed, facing the door, and when I entered she looked at me with tears in her eyes, and her lips trembled. The look on her face was one of longing, loneliness and pain.

“Yao, please, you can’t be here, not now, please, I beg of you,” she whispered, almost wringing her hands.

I sighed deeply and sat down on the bed by her side.

“It is so hard thinking of you as Mansa,” I said gently and took her right hand. “To me, you’ll always be Dede, my first love. I see your pain, and I’m so sorry, Dede. I’m so terribly sorry. Believe me, if I hadn’t met Adobea, and fallen so completely for her, I would have eagerly made you my soul mate.”

“Stop it, Yao!” she cried in agony. “You’re hurting me! Since my husband died, and I’ve been content here, living with my brother and helping in the work of the Lord…and I was quite happy with it! But I met you, and I fell for you heavily! And nothing has been the same again! Oh, Yao!”
Her tears fell fast now, and I was cut to the core to see her in such agony.
“I’m sorry, Dede,” I whispered, rubbing her back as my heart was torn apart. “I wish, I really wish, there had been a way out of this. I hate being the cause of such agony to you.”

“An agony that will last a lifetime, Yao,” she whispered tremulously. “Why did this happen? Why did the good Lord make me fall in love with you when you wouldn’t be available? Haven’t I done enough for the Lord to deserve some happiness?”
“Oh, Dede, no!” I whispered, aghast. “We cannot judge God, can we? We don’t understand the things that happen, but what I’ve learnt this few weeks is to trust Him. The only way out is to take our supplications to Him, with faith, and trust Him to make it right.”

“I don’t have much supplications now, Yao!” she whispered, her tears falling faster. “You’re all that I want! Why can’t that be possible, especially if love comes from Him, and He created true love? Why can’t you love me back?”
“Oh, Dede, please, you’re hurting me!” I said.

And then with a groan she moved. Her arms came around my neck like vices, and her lips clamped on mine. Lips tasted salty and warm from her tears, and as I put my hands up around her…oh dear, oh dear…she was so full, so voluptuous, so irresistible!
She kissed me with a passion that took my breath away. And then she pushed me back, and I fell on the bed with my feet dangling by the side. My hands roamed her back as her body played a lullaby on my senses.
My new and empowered battering ram was turgid with a fresh blessing of blood, and it poked at her belly with relentless insistence, seeking a way out of the creamy joyful corridor of love and lust.
She reared up above me for a moment, and in a flash tossed her dress away. She was on top of me, still, and now she was only in the white slip of p@nty covering her lower citadel. Sheer p@anties with a transparent front that glorified the place of rhythm.

Her double track systems with their dark areolas shining around her erect and stubborn nipples.
Oh, dear!

Her body tapered down, firm and as beautiful as a rainbow on a rainless day. She came down, her lips claiming mine again. I wondered briefly what the hell a Christian woman, living alone with her brother on a mountain, was doing wearing p@anties that had only a rope in the back, exposing those curvy Akuapim fold mountains.