Sexy Times with Nnenna Marcia: Slipping, Falling.

Wes palmed my right breast and rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Someone moaned in my ear, a breathy, shuddering thing that was full of as much heat and pain and lust and when I closed my mouth to swallow, I realised that it was me.

The minute he licked my neck, I knew it for what it was: a dream. I intended to enjoy it anyway. I was being so good; a thousand times I could have had him in real life. He wanted me. He told me as much. I was only letting him in my dreams. I could feel myself beginning to wake up so I turned my attention to Wes again, letting his eyes guide me deeper into the realms of sleep and possibility.

“I thought I’d lost you,” said Wes.

“You have me,” I said, running my hands all over his defined chest and abdomen. He shuddered when I grazed a nipple with my fingernail.

“Ooh. Is that right?” I asked him. I didn’t know whether Real Wes liked that but Dream Wes’ eyes sharpened, the rings standing out grey on green on grey on brown. I scratched the nipple and he groaned.

“Stop it.”

“I like it when you beg,” I said plunging my tongue into his mouth. He battled me, whipping his tongue against mine. It was like two high tension wires flailing; swollen, fleshy, live. The electricity transported itself to my nether regions, turning it to so much mush.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” I said.

“Not now,” said Wes.

“No. Now.” I reached into his trousers and even as I did so they dissolved like they were made of smoke. I laughed. “I like this dream.” Wes’ penis rose from the smoke like a phoenix. “Correction. I love this dream,” I said holding on to my prize. It pulsed in my hand and every vein stood out, pumping blood into the hot flesh in my hand. It rose and rose higher and higher until its head was past Wes’. “Errrr….what’s going on?”

“That’s how much I want you, Otito.” Wes’ skin burned as if he had a fever. “I want to brand you.” His eyes looked weirder as if they too were pulsing. I could feel myself falling. “You are mine. Mine. Mine, Otito.” He came towards me, holding his penis as if it was a walking stick. I drew back. He reached out and touched my chest and his hand was icy cold. “Otito. Otito….” Wes started flogging me with his penis….

“Otito, wake up.”

I sat up immediately and my head connected with Greg’s forehead.

“What the hell, woman?” he screamed.

“Sorry,” my head cleared in record time. “I was dreaming.”

“I could see that.” He looked at me with his head cocked to the side and I saw myself as he must have; tangled up nightshirt riding up, hair plastered to my head inside its hairnet, nipples…I crossed my hands over my chest.  Greg smirked.

“You know I hate people shaking me.”

“I know. Which was why I was pushing down on your chest, like I always do,” Greg wore a white tank top and grey jeans. I could see them sitting on his very male hips like he was in a denim advert. His car keys clinked, dangling from around one finger as he rubbed his head. My heart was still pounding from the dream and I wanted to talk to Greg so badly. He never judged me for anything in the past. If anything, his brand of logic and rationality was just what I needed. “Are you alright?” he asked when I wouldn’t stop looking at him.

“Greg,” I began. He stopped rubbing his head and stood upright. Greg didn’t say anything, just waited for me to say what I wanted. I knew he would wait as long as I had to and if I chose not to say anything after all, he would shrug and carry on like nothing happened.

“You are too handsome to waste,” I said. I couldn’t quite broach the subject of Wes.

Greg smiled. “Oh yeah?” He crossed his arms, and his biceps rolled and popped under his skin.

“Yeah. Greg, you really should get someone who deserves you. That Eke…” Greg frowned, but I was determined to finish. “There is something about him that just makes my skin crawl. I feel as if he’s not what he makes out to be.”

“For the last time, Belinda, I am not gay!”

“Otito,” I deadpanned.

“Well, you’re behaving like Belinda so you get her name. Why won’t you listen when I tell you that Eke and I…” he sat down. “OK, there is something you should know.”

I saw my chance. “There is something you should know too. It’s about Wes.”

Greg snapped back his face dropping into a mask of calm. “OK,” he said simply.

“I slept with him and now I can’t stop dreaming about him and he asked me….he said he still likes me and all I can think of ….I mean you’ve seen him, he is so fine…I know, I know, you’re not gay but you don’t have to be to see how…oh my God his dick, Greg.” I slapped my hands over my mouth. I felt my eyebrows hit my hairline. “I want him badly, Greg. I think I am in trouble.”

Greg didn’t move. “Tell me,” he said.



“First things first, you have to forget whatever happened between the two of you,” said Greg. “Put it out of your mind. That one you couldn’t help. You didn’t know he was taken, you didn’t know he was Belinda’s either.” He rubbed a knuckle under his chin and it made me smile. He used to do the same thing when we were kids and he was plotting our next adventures. We travelled all over the world from the safety of both our bedrooms; we both loved to play Indiana Jones and would fight over the right to be Indy until we were so tired and breathless that the play itself was abandoned till the next day.

Then we fought over who would be Sherlock Holmes and who would be Watson and Greg chin saw more of his knuckles than ever before. I made a rubbish Sherlock compared to him and when it was my turn to be Watson, he was always helpful and handy. I was a rubbish Sherlock and an even worse Watson, always bulldozing over his opinions and observations even when he was right – especially when he was right.

“And you must never be alone with him. Ever. Ever.” Greg paced the room. I wondered how I never noticed how broad his shoulders were. Compared to Wes, he was stockier even if they were roughly the same height. Yet of the two of them, Greg moved like he was less aware of his own magnetism, or as if he didn’t care for it. Magnetism. Yes, his childhood charisma had morphed to magnetism. I was not sure how I never noticed that either. I bet he was a heart breaker  I wondered if our former schoolmates knew what he looked like now. I shook my wandering thoughts off. This was about me and Wes. Calling his name in my mind almost made me smile. My stomach cramped and I could feel my pussy weeping into my thighs. Greg squinted at me in suspicion.

“What were you going to tell me?” I asked quickly.


“Before. You were going to tell me something and I interrupted with my guilty self. What was it?”

Greg shook his head. “It was nothing. Focus, Otito. This is important. Don’t call Wes and don’t text him either.”

“But what about him?”

“That’s not your concern. He made a commitment and it’s up to him what he does with it. Your duty is not to help him break it. Just stay away from him. If he chooses not to be faithful to Belinda, it’s his problem. But he doesn’t have to cheat with you.”

“Technically, he has cheated with me already. On his Bachelor’s week with the boys.”

“Yes, but you,” Greg sliced the air for emphasis. “Didn’t know that. Now you do. It’s up to you to do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” I picked at my night shirt.

“Yes, the thing that is in your heart to do.”

“The thing that is in my heart to do is sex with him, Greg. I really, really want to fuck him.” Greg closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his expression had changed to still water.

“I know, Otito. Believe me, I do. I won’t judge you, I can’t judge you. Nobody is perfect. God, I have done things that…” He cleared his throat. “Nevermind. What I am saying is that right now, the power is in your hands. You decide what you want to do with it. If you say nothing will happen with Wes, then nothing will.” He rubbed my shoulder. “You’re not a bad person. You already know what you have to do otherwise you wouldn’t have felt so guilty about him.” My throat tightened and I knew I was going to cry. Greg must have seen it too because he drew closer and hugged me. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, rolling my head on it around and around, trying to massage away the tears.

“Don’t cry,” said Greg. He sounded taut.

“I won’t. But I really, really want to.”

“Why? Why do you want to?” asked Greg. He stopped breathing and in that moment I knew I couldn’t tell him. Greg was my best friend and he wouldn’t judge me but I knew he would be disappointed all the same and that would cut worse than a knife.

Because I knew I was going to sleep with Wes again. I just knew it.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked, more to distract myself than because I cared about the answer. “Is this going to become a regular occurrence again, waking up and seeing you sitting in my room?”

Greg shrugged. “No, don’t worry. I’ll stop coming.”

“I feel so much better talking to you, Greg. Some things never change, eh? You still know how to listen to me and make me feel better.”

“I have the shoulders for it.” Greg stood. “I was supposed to come and get you. We’re going to see Belinda’s aunts, remember? Her mother’s sisters?”

“Oh, yeah. Remind me why we agreed to that again.”

“It’s the holidays. We are bored and she begged us. You know she doesn’t like them very much. And it’s the day before Christmas; peace and goodwill and all that shit.”

“Do you mind if I don’t tag along?”

Greg was already nodding. “I’ll tell them you’re sick.” He kissed my head. When he got to the door he stopped.

“What?” I knew he wanted to say something else.

“Nothing, I am just thinking how lucky some men are. If Wes joined Belinda’s top to your bottom he would have the perfect woman.”

“I am not my bum!” I threw a pillow at his head. He ducked and sent it flying back, grinning.

“I was just kidding,” he said, sounding tired.

“Hey, what about tonight?”

“Tonight?” he repeated.

“Yes, I was going to take you guys to that place I found. I already told the owner we were coming.”

“Errrr….” Greg scratched the back of his neck.

“Com’on. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not as if  Wes and I will jump on each other. You’ll be there and it will be packed full of people.”

“OK, sure. We’re still on for that then. Although won’t they wonder how you made a miraculous recovery? Belinda will think you’re just being mean.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” I said. I was saving her stupid marriage after all. She could thank me when she had one little boy or girl with weird eyes. When Greg left the room, he was no longer smiling.

The house was deadly-quiet so  my mother was definitely not around. Knowing her she was probably helping Aunty Mabel with the finishing touches. Boredom crawled around my skin like fire ants as I lay in the gloom of my room, wishing that the building site was open, wishing that Sarah-Jane was back, anything. I needed a distraction, something earth-shaking that would blow Wes and sex and dreams right out of the water. I picked up my mobile phone and dialled  She answered on the first ring.

“Sarah Amuah.”

Hurricane Sarah. Just what the doctor ordered. I knew by the time she was done with me, I would not be able to remember my own name. “We should go out,” I said.

“Sure. Who is this and where are we going?”

10 comments On Sexy Times with Nnenna Marcia: Slipping, Falling.

  • Love it! Why did ‘it’ have to be a dream though 🙂 You know we want the real deal…

  • A great piece indeed,dream or not….

  • Oh girl, I do know. I know you want it. That’s why it was a dream! 😉

  • more more more.. pleeeease.

  • Sibling rivalry… the air is getting rather thick around here….

    And I think I mean Wes and Greg….

  • Really? Are you picking up on that? Even I didn’t see it (but then again, you can’t always see everything when you’re writing a story).

    Let me read it again.

  • @Kofi – Ohmigod Kofi you are so right. Oh Abby will be gutted if Wes and Greg get it together…hmmm

    @All – This is making me randomly think. We should have a series where once the writer has written the first story, readers make suggestions on what they think should happens next and she’s goes along with whichever suggestion sounds good to her. It could be fun. What do you think?

  • I thought about it when I first started!!!!

    There are those books in the 90s, I can’t remember what they are called where you chose your own endings based on what you wanted to happen (if you want X turn to page 24), and when I started this series with all the guessing, I thought about doing that but it is a commitment and I wouldn’t have had the time so I just thought I should write what I had.

  • I remember those. Goosebumps be careful what you wish for series comes readily to mind. I like sexy times this way, but perhaps a separate story could be started that way…

  • I’ll think of something later. Much, much later.

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