Dial - Season 2 - Episode 89

4 years ago

Dial - Season 2 - Episode 89

Somewhere in the recesses of my body my mind was in conflict with my heart. My mind was like the snake in the garden the Holy Man had told me about, hissing and goading me on lecherously, telling me to give it to her like a toughie, to poke into her until my new powerful zingabar poked out of the top of her head like the horn of a unicorn.

But my heart, filled with the presence of the Holy Spirit, was urging me to remember that Joseph nigga in Egypt who had the advantage of ooooh-aaaahing the wife of Portiphar, but chose to flee from fornication.

“Ahhhhh, that Joseph was a silly little coward!” my mind demons hissed into my ears. “Portiphar’s wife was plumpy shamadian with curvy tantalizing scroomages, but he fled like a fool…you’re no fool! You’re Yao Biko Kyekyeku, the man, the powerful shatterer of holes…do her, my nigga, rip her apart…ahhhhhsh, can you imagine the joy?”

As the Holy Spirit was thinking of a fitting rebuttal, Mansa’s lips scorched my earlobes, and somehow she had managed to tug my banshee right out of the confines of my trabo, and she was massaging it like her life depended on it.

I m0aned with pleasure as her soft lips claimed mine again. We kissed fervently, hungrily, passionately, and she suddenly reared above me again with a groan of passion.

“Yieeeeee, waso twaaaiiiiinn tsede asobrokye!” my mind screamed with a victorious war voice.
“Obo!” said the weakened voice of the Holy Spirit, so low that I could barely hear it.
Mansa reached down and brushed the sheer little fabric covering her tantalizing sacrosanct passage into her core, and I could see the dark hairs and the glistening head of her lust, poking out and winking at me.
She was gripping the new and improved Biko-Hewale as if her life depended on it, positioning it so that she could mount it to victory like Samson clobbering the Philistines with a donkey jawbone!

And in that instant I bucked and pulled back my butt0ckz like I had seen the head of the snake in the Garden of Eden. I swerved her descending shamagat and, grabbing her shoulders, pulled her down on the bed beside me.

Filled with pain, filled with unfulfilled lust, I looked into her eyes with a miserable expression and shook my head.

“I’m sorry, Mansa, please forgive me!” I whispered tremulously. “But this is a sin I can’t commit now, please. The Holy Man, your brother, he told me this is a sin that God really hates, that affects my body, which is the temple of God. I just don’t want the anger of God against me now, again, ever. I’m so sorry, please, please, forgive me!”
She burst into tears, her right hand coming up to cover her face.

Ahhhh…look at her, look at that body, those curves!

Awurade, look at those thighs, that dark core….eiiiiii!
I bounced off the bed, tucking in my langalanga bamboo, which was still as hard as the back of a turtle, and rushed toward the door.

“I’m so sorry, Mansa, please forgive me!” I said as I yanked the door open and pulled it shut behind me. I put my forehead against it, and I could still hear her crying inside, which was tearing me up so badly.
“Go back, abowa bi ba like you, kwasea gyimifo!” my mind screamed with maddened fury. “You know you want it! Go and hit it, belebele!”
“O, you did well!” the Holy Spirit cried weakly in my heart, and I reached down, zipped up, and turned away from the door.
“Obo!” the weakened voice in my mind said, so lowly that I could barely hear it.
“Osseeeeey Kyekyeku Biko!” the Holy Spirit screamed in my heart.

And when I reached the living-room I saw the Holy Man sitting in a chair, his chin resting in the palm of his right hand.

I stopped suddenly and looked at him with sheer guilt, trepidation, and shame.
He shook his head briefly, and then he smiled gently at me.

“You did well, Yao,” he said gently. “Next time, don’t let it get that far.”
I walked toward him with narrowed eyes.
“You knew?” I asked fiercely, and when he nodded I became angry. “Then why didn’t you help us?”
“You’re both Christians, Yao, and that is where my power and influence ends over you,” he said gently. “To sin or not to sin is the choice every Christian needs to make, and we rely on the presence of the Holy Spirit to guide us. That is why it is important to constantly feed your mind and heart with the word of God, which eventually drives away the conflict, and sin simply runs away from you because the Spirit of God becomes stronger, and gives sin not enough room to manouver.”

I sat down shakily beside him.
“I’m confused and hurt,” I whispered painfully. “Mansa is in deep pain, and I caused it.”

“You didn’t cause it,” he replied softly. “She allowed it to manifest and take over her. But don’t worry about her, my son. I will attend to her presently, but not with you here.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” I said miserably.

“Oh, no, Yao, my son,” he said compassionately. “She needs love, and care, and true repentance which will bring the peace of God back to her. I’m just going to give her a shoulder to lean on and help her find her way back to God. But come, go and get ready. You’re not waiting for tomorrow anymore. You passed a test I never expected you to pass, not with that stupid pole of yours anyway, but I see you maturing into a powerful Christian. You must leave now, with Pastor Attah Panyin. But I’m very proud of you. For the very first time in your life, you fled from atopabu. Well done, my son.”
I guffawed loudly, and the laughter brought tears to my eyes as I leaned forward suddenly and gave him a great hug.
He laughed deep inside his chest, and hugged me back.