Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E28

Story 1 year ago

Diary of a pastor’s son - S01 E28

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 28

Femi’s POV

Normally, Lagos to Ibadan is approximately two hours journey by road. But then, it could still differ, depending on the day, the time of the day, and Insha Allah (God’s willing) Traffic could also be another factor too.

I was at Berger around 11:28 am. My initial plan was to get to Ibadan by bus, but on getting to Berger, the bus was already filled up with passengers. There was another one in queue but it had just two passengers in it. So I had to go by car instead. The bus cost two thousand naira while the car charged two thousand, five hundred naira.

The car had Air conditioning and was more spacious with just four passenger’s seats. Luckily, it got filled up in less than ten minutes.

The driver hopped in and ignited the engine. I looked at my timepiece, it was 11:48 am. As usual, the first place he drove to was the nearest filling station. Once that was done, we hit the express road. I bent down and said a quick prayer. Even when I knew I came to Lagos to commit sin, I still prayed that I get to Ibadan safely.

I reached for my headset, plugged in my phone, and clicked on my Audiomack playlist. It had Brymo’s tracks. I was vibing to his cool music. Brymo is one of my favorites. The dude is so underrated in the music industry. I wish people knew how powerful those lyrics of him are. Well, that’s by the way. I bet I’m his number one fan.

Towards the mid of our journey, I felt a touch on my lap. At first, I felt it was probably a mistake, but then the same thing happened again. I turned and my eyes met with the girl seating by my left. She should be in her early twenties or probably twenty. She is fair and had distinct Yoruba tribal marks on the side of her cheeks. She still looked beautiful tho.

She greeted me and I reciprocated. I could feel she wanted to ask for something but seemed shy and unable to communicate easily what it was she wanted.

Finally, she did. She summoned courage and told me about her ordeal in Lagos. Yeah, your guess is good as mine. Money was what she asked me. She begged me to assist her with some money. According to her, she is a student of Ibadan Polytechnic. She said the money on her wasn’t enough to take her down to her school if we get to Ibadan.

When I asked what she came to Lagos to do, she said she runs a business in school, so she came to buy her stuff from Lagos Island. I didn’t ask further what exactly she sold in school. I guess that wasn’t necessary. She said her name is Oluwaseun, Seun for short.

Her story sounded so genuine that I couldn’t resist extending help. Out of pity and care, I gave her one thousand naira to add up to the one she had with her. She was grateful. She asked for my name, and I told her. She was wowed.

“My elder brother’s name too is Femi,” she said, revealing her cute dimples.

“Oh! That’s cool.” I smiled back.

Throughout the time we were in the car, she got me engaged with some talks about the entertainment industry in the country. I can’t really remember what lead us to that discussion but I knew we talked about one of these awards recognition. She poured out her annoyance on how partial the organizers were. She said most of the people who won didn’t merit it. The entertainment industry was something I had an interest in, so we actually had a long talk about the award night and how it went.

By the time we got to Ibadan, it was a few minutes before 2 pm. I got down from the car before Seun. She called me and asked for my number which I gave out in seconds. She thanked me and prayed that I’ll never be in lack. That was typical of an average Yoruba person. Yes, we Yoruba folks are so appreciative of things others do for us, no matter how little, we could thank you forever.

We finally bid each other goodbyes. I crossed to the next lane of the tarred road while she stood at the exact lane we had been standing. I looked up to the sky and thanked God for safe travels. It’s by His mercies we are not consumed. What would have I told my father if peradventure something bad happened on our way? What would I tell him I went to Lagos to do?

About five minutes later, I found a bus going towards school, and I quickly hopped in and sat at the backside. I was on the bus when my phone rang. It was Biola calling. I swiped right on my screen and her voice pierced through my

phone.

“Femi, are you still on the road?”

“I’m close to school.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you once I get to the hostel.”

“Alright.” She hung up.

Biola’s POV

After I hung up, I felt so emotional hearing his voice. I wished he never left. I wished he was still in my arms. I wished he was still fondling, caressing, and sucking on my bosom. I missed his aura. I already missed him in less than twelve hours. The thought of knowing I would wait longer before I get to see him again enveloped me. I was sitting on my bed thinking about how Femi and I explored each other like wild animals the previous day. His soft touches and hard stroking. My p*ssy was getting wet with the whole image in my head. I was shifting my weight, moving my legs. I was going crazy down there. I don’t know if anyone ever had a weight-shifting, leg-moving orgasm. I was close.

I just put my finger under my dress and for just a few seconds, I was cumming. I was thinking about sucking on Femi’s soft lips as I squeezed my legs together for a mini orgasm. I kept my breathing quiet.

Boom, someone knocked at the door. I quickly took my hands out from under my dress. It was the caretaker who was at the door. A man in his late thirties, who lived with his family in a two-bedroom flat directly opposite the main apartment.

“Biola, I have told you guys to stop dumping refuse at that spot,” he thundered from the door.

I didn’t say anything. I was calm and quiet, pretending to be asleep. He called my name again and again but I didn’t move an inch. When he got no response, he walked away. I heard the sound of his feet as he threaded through the corridor. Maybe Femi dumped the dustbin at the wrong place. But how was he able to trace where it came from? I pondered.

I couldn’t even wait till he was gone, I got back under my dress, I pulled my panties down, and I pressed my finger against my pssy. I leaned forward over the bed, my hand was fixed on my pssy from under my skirt. I was enjoying the tingling feeling. I bet pregnancy comes with lots of s3x hormones that it was turning me into a sex addict. I couldn’t help it. I imagined Femi screwing me from behind against the bed. Not up to a minute, I reached orgasm, and since no one was around, I was moaning and saying, “Yes, Femi screw me hard.” I was completely wet. I went into the bathroom to pull myself together. I came out and looked at myself in the mirror. I felt so ashamed of myself and got filled with guilt.

Don’t think it was my first time wanking. No, it wasn’t. It was only my first time doing it while I was pregnant. I did feel guilty about pleasuring myself to orgasm in absence of Femi.

Well, I’m not going to lie, it felt so relieving. I made the decision that I wasn’t going to fight it. In fact, I decided to go with it, but privately and secretly so that no one except God would know. And hopefully, He would be okay with me masturbating and would understand how ‘horny’ pregnancy had made me.

Femi’s POV

I got back to the hostel and met my roommates. They welcomed me cheerfully and asked what I bought for them. I simply laughed and said, “Alafia” which literally means peace.

The lecture for that day had gone in my absence. I would have to meet one or two coursemates of mine to get updated. It was good to be back. The struggle continues. Like they always say, “Aluta continua” I reached for my phone and dialed Biola’s number. She picked up and asked if I had arrived at the school hostel. I replied in the positive. She said she is already missing me and I felt it. I reciprocated just to make her feel better. Deep down I knew if I continue this way with Biola, I might lose focus on my studies.

Well, I’d have to wait and see if she continues to call me by the day. When I ended the call, I recalled all the advice from my parents before I left Ondo. I knew I had deviated from them by traveling to Lagos. But I was willing to make things right onwards. If Biola continues to call frequently, then I’d talk to her to limit it—since I was just a fresher—and my first year at the University got a major role to play in what academic class I graduates with. They said year one has always been the building rock to first-class honors, and once gotten right, easier it becomes. The first class was my target and I believed I have got all it takes to reach there.

The following day, I got back from class and noticed I had two missed calls from an unsaved number. My phone had been on silent during classes that I didn’t notice someone had been calling. I quickly called back.

Well, if you guessed Seun, you’re actually not wrong. She was the one. She began to thank me again for the kind gesture of yesterday. She said I was simply a lifesaver. I was only smiling and told her not to mention but she wouldn’t stop till my airtime was exhausted. She called back and asked me to save her contact. I agreed to do so. And that was how Seun texted me on WhatsApp. We got chatting and sometimes she would call me and we would talk.

So one day, we were chatting and she texted, “Femi, are you single?”