Xmas Encounter with a Sex Machine

by SOC Okenwa

Few days to Christmas last year a report in a Nigerian tabloid had it that an estimated 5 million Igbos were heading home, hitting the hinterland, for the Yuletide. Captioned “Exodus” the “Sun” report painted a jolly picture of mass movement of a great ethnic group in South-eastern Nigeria with a majority Christian faith. Christmas for the Igbos is a unique occasion for family re-union, festivals, meetings, marriages, and settlement of disputes. Despite the difficulties (like fuel scarcity, skyrocketting transport fares, road mishaps as a result of bad road networks) associated with the feast of Xmas the Igbos made sure that the great annual event never met them and passed them by in a land outside theirs — be that Lagos or New York.

While the average Igboman knows how to flaunt his wealth during the Yuletide conspicuous consumption and moral debauchery had always become the order of the day. Majority of them do not even know or appreciate deeply the reason for the season. Fake products are manufactured and sold as originals to unsuspecting buyers, transport fares are hiked beyond reason, for many making money is much more important than welcoming the Son of Man to the world; a typical village Ada is shagged into sexual submission during the week-long fiesta with many of them put in a family way by the time ‘Krisimesi’ is over.

The criminals among them (international fraudsters, drug barons etc) come home much earlier to relax and celebrate their wealth by showing off their new-brand cars, mansions or taking new chieftaincy titles. Above all they plot a better future of crimes! Those apprentices (‘boy-boy’) who have served their masters well enough for upwards of 7 years are ‘settled’ with financial muscle to become independent. ‘Biafraland’ experiences a bee-hive of activities during the Yuletide — the good, the bad and the ugly.

And before the dawn of the last Christmas in America, precisely in Southern California, a jilted lover (who was said to be an usher in a Catholic church) had dressed up as a Santa Claus and gone on a killing spree. The gunman, 45-year-old Bruce Jeffrey Pardo, killed dozens of people in a bloodbath at his ex-in-laws’ Covina home and had intended to flee to Canada but was severely burned before he killed himself. Wearing a father Christmas red suit Sylvia Pardo’s divorced husband had invaded a dinner party organized by late Sylvia Pardo`s parents, and eight of her immediate family members died when the late Bruce burst into a holiday party on a shooting rampage and then torched his former in-laws’ home.

After the tragic incident Pardo shot himself to death at his brother’s home. The LA authorities found $17,000 on him and a plane ticket for a flight from Los Angeles to Canada. Late Mr Pardo must have been a frustrated victim of love. And he expressed his frustration and disappointment in a gruesomely violent way. Perhaps he loved Sylvia more than she did or he could not bear or stand the sight of another lover ‘coveting’ her; so a mortal decision was reached!

On the eve of Christmas, December 24th night, from this end I was ready for an all-night vigil in my church. Before midnight therefore I had boarded a taxi and instructed the driver to take me to the church. On entering the taxi I had spotted a lady’s handbag which must have been forgotten by someone. I picked it up and inquired from the taxi driver if a woman had just disembarked from his taxi before I flagged him down to which he answered in the affirmative. I opened up the handbag just to see if I could lay my hand on any contact with which the owner could be reached. What I came across inside the bag shocked me: two nude pictures, two female condom packets, credit card, some cash, bunch of house keys, ID papers and a woman perfume.

I immediately put a call across with the telephone number I found in the Identity document and it went through. Could I please speak with Ms X? The person at the other end of the phone in a subdued voice responded by identifying herself asking after the honour of whom she was speaking with? After the introduction by both parties I explained away the reason for the late night call while wishing her a merry Christmas.

She happily thanked me for my honesty, describing her home vividly and taking up an appointment with me for the next day, Xmas, for the delivery of her recovered items. I knew she was worried having lost some substantial personal effects.

At noon on Xmas day I had set out to give back the recovered items to her owner at her home. On getting there the first question I had asked her after I was warmly welcomed was what she was thinking about that led to her forgetfulness in a strange taxi-cab? She could not expressly provide any justification for her action but thanked God that her purse was found by an honest man.

When she found out that I was a Nigerian the woman was surprised saying that Nigerians were known for our wayward dishonesty and criminality, so why was I different? Are you pretending or what? Are you not a fraudster or a drug peddler? She had asked in quick succession! I protested by declaring that it was a wrong sense of judgement and an unpardonable generalisation that must be corrected and apologised for. She did instantly and profusely.

She offered me some beverages and the discussion took a serious turn and tone. I handed over the handbag to her but withheld the graphically-pornographic photographs and the female condoms! As she was pulling out the items in the bag I flashed her the condoms and the pictures asking her if they really belonged to her? She muttered ‘yes’ looking straight into my eyes!

She offered to compensate me with cash but I declined preffering to be given the opportunity to experience the charm and beauty I found in those interesting photographs. Are you married (and if yes) how many children do you have if you don’t mind please? I had questioned fixing my gaze at her and trying to woo her over. She said she had divorced her husband who was a philanderer and a gold-digger months back. They had two children who are now living with their dad. I probed further seeking to know with whom she was making love in the ‘offensive’ photograph to which she declined to answer but said nevertheless that the estranged husband was outside the picture.

Before long the love sentiments began to manifest themselves as we were both engrossed in a subdued intimate discussion that centered around the standard sizes of libido, the perfect sex partner, the duration of satisfactory sexual experience, oral sex and fruits of true love; the colour of love and the language of sexual bliss.

When I noticed her intellectual disposition I waxed philosophical taking her mutually along across the sophisticated frontiers: the politics of sex and the anatomy of female power. It was at this juncture that she confessed her fascination at my fluency in French language, radical maturity and mental alertness. I felt flattered but thanked her all the same for the compliments.

One lewd thing led to another and before we could hold back our emotions that were running wild we were transported to a ‘love wonderland’ where everything was permissible in nudity! We were sharing some whiskey drink as we were discussing and caressing ourselves no-hold-barred.

After spending sometime ‘on top’ ‘digging and digging’ the lady offered to take over proceedings by ‘mounting’ the ‘horse’. And as she did both of us were screaming and clamouring for more orgasm! She was very good on bed and she never pretended to the contrary; she showed me the stuff she was made of provoking me to ask why a man could ever consider losing her love given her sexual dexterity. She simply replied that men were not to be trusted with the stuff under a lady’s skirt!

I was pleasantly surprised by her boundless sexual energy and professionalism. From all romantic indication it was an Xmas encounter with an unassuming sex machine, one who sexually ‘intimidated’ me and humbled me out of my wits. Of course I went home that fateful Christmas day feeling happy and thanking God for both the gift of Christ, our redeemer, and the gift of sex!

Happy and prosperous new year to all and sundry. May 2009 witness some man-made miracles of ‘Obamanic’ proportions around the world [especially in Africa].

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