Sexy Times with Nnenna Marcia: Merry Fucking Christmas.

Ping. Whatsapp.

Happy Christmas, baby.

‘Who is this?’ I typed back, knowing exactly who it was.

Ping.

Oh baby. You’re breaking my heart.

‘I’m sorry, who are you and how did you get this number?’

I earned it. And I can’t wait to fuck you again.

‘Where are you?’

In the bathroom, getting ready for Christmas mass. Where are you?

‘In bed, sleeping off Christmas eve.’

I wish I was there beside you, Abby.

 ‘What would you do if you were here?’

What are you wearing?

I pulled my nightshirt over my head and flung it on the floor. ‘Nothing’.

Oh, man. Oh man, Abby.

‘Relax. I haven’t even done anything.’

You’ve ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about you. How you called my name when you spread your legs…your tits, your ass, your cunt.

‘You can’t say that!’ I snuggled into the covers, giggling. Waking up to find Greg a few caused me to lock my door when I went to sleep now, drunk or no. I wasn’t worried about getting caught naked.

Watch me. Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt. Your sopping wet cunt, spread open, all pink and wet, burning my dick off with its heat.

‘I didn’t know you liked to talk dirty.’

You bring it out of me. God, Abby. Can we meet somewhere? I’m going out of my mind.

‘I might have someplace in mind. But first you have to finish what you started. I’m horny.’ I took out a key from inside my pillowcase, unlocked the bedside drawers and took a purple silicone rabbit from the first one. Its tiny ears tickled the body of my clit, sending warm, relaxing feelings all over my body.

‘I have started without you.’

Shit Abby. What are you doing?

(To me?)

‘I am running the ears of my rabbit all over my clit.’ I kicked off the covers, exposing myself to the warm air, growing steadily warmer. My nipples, grateful for the room to grow, started to.

Tell me how that feels, Abby. I’m pulling my dick out of my pants. It’s almost painful.

‘Good. Get it out. My clit’s throbbing. I’d hate to be the only one.’

If I was there, I would lick you instead of that damned rabbit stealing all my shine. I would nibble around the edges of your pussy. I would ignore your damn clit even if it was swollen to bursting, even if you begged me.

‘If you were here, I wouldn’t beg you. I would reach down like I am doing now and touch myself.’ I stuck the vibrator in, feeling my pussy gobble it all up. It was getting difficult to type. ‘Mmm. My pussy is tugging on the vibe.’

Nothing.

I dipped a finger in the fluid sliding out like sludge each time I pulled the vibrator out. I spread some of it on my nipples and licked the rest off my fingers.

‘Hello?’

Sorry. I had to make sure the door was locked. I’m naked. Sitting on the john, stroking my Johnson.

I laughed. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

Don’t blame me. All the blood is in my dick right now. God Abby. I would love to see your mouth round my dick.

Ping.

All wet and pink and shiny. I want your tongue, licking my head, while I try not to cum on your face.

I pulled the vibrator out of me and stuck it in my mouth. ‘I am sucking you right now. You taste of me.’

Wes’ reply told me that he got it instantly.

Then I taste good, Abby. You’re opnin your moth wider. You have m balls in there.

‘Slow down baby.’ I pinched my nipples harder. The pleasure-pain shot down my stomach and into my pussy. It clenched. ‘Ooh, this feels so good, Wes. I can see you. You’re head is thrown back. Your mouth is open. You’re bucking against my face.’

Shit Abby.

‘You’re hitting the back of my throat. I can take it. Don’t be shy.’

Fuck, Abby. My dck sticky. So sticky baby.

I pictured Wes grabbing it in his hand – maybe both hands – and pumping up and down. But I needed more fuel for my imagination.

‘What are you doing?’

I’ve got shrt in mouth. Tryin not to scream. Thinkn of yur ass.

I turned over on my belly with my ass in the air and plunged the vibrator in as far as it would go until the rabbit’s ears felt as if they were tickling my clit from the inside. With one hand, I dialled Wes. He picked up before it even rang.

“I’ve got my ass in the air, Wes. You’re inside me, fucking me balls-deep.”

“I am, baby. I am,” Wes sounded choked. “Oh God, Abby. You should see the veins on my dick popping.”

“I remember,” I said. I did. But I wanted to see it again, its deep red-purple head, angry-looking and solid, spitting in defiance. “Network is shit. I wish we had video.” Just the sound of Wes’ gasping, whispering words were enough to get me flowing. The vibrator was shiny, slick with juice, frothing at the base from my repeated plunging motions. My fingers were covered. I licked them noisily into the mouthpiece.

“That wet, huh,” said Wes. I heard the ‘beat beat beat’ sound of a man going to town on his own dick. Wes groaned. “Fuck it, Abby. I gotta see you today.”

I slapped on my clit, loud enough for Wes to hear. He groaned again. Suddenly there was a bang and the sound of clattering. “Shit,” said Wes.

“Wes honey? Are you alright? Open the door.” It was Belinda.

There was the sound of running water. My libido followed it down the drain.

“I’m good honey, just being a little sick,” Wes said. His voice was muffled as if he had just stuck the phone behind the cistern or something.

“Open the door…” her voice broke up. “You poor baby. Maybe we can cancel church….” Belinda’s voice broke up again.

I hung up and switched off the vibrator, fiddling with my breasts absent-mindedly.

Ping.

This isn’t over. I gotta see you, Abby. I gotta see you. Today. OK? I gotta fuck you. And you gotta fuck me, the way it’s supposed to be.

‘Ok,’ I texted back. ‘But just because you’ve stopped, don’t think I have.’ I picked up the vibrator, quickly finding my desire and rhythm again. I pulled out a tiny silver bullet fromt he drawer and switched it on, directing its more intense vibrations to my clit. It was over in seconds but I wouldn’t stop. Not even when my legs trembled and gave up on me, bringing my bottom back to the bed with a bang. The bed shook and for a moment I thought I was going to end up on the floor. The cleft of my buttocks was slippery, sliding together unnaturally. I ignored it, ignored the phone pinging like crazy and settled in for round two.

Merry Christmas to me, I thought, as my stomach muscles scrunched against the latest assault.

***

“So how was Greg’s place?” my mother asked when I came downstairs. I acknowledged the fact that she didn’t want to fight about whether or not I had gone to church. I put my arms around her and kissed her cheek. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“We didn’t go to Greg’s house,” I said.

“Really? I thought Greg said…anyway, he is coming with Aunty Bene – another person you have managed to offend since you have been back. Why didn’t you go to greet her? I raised you better than this. And you know her husband died when you have been away.”

“I called her and expressed my condolences. I sent money. What else did you want me to do?”

“You and Greg are like brother and sister, yes, even if I wanted otherwise. We can never do enough for family.”

I picked up a peeled orange which had clearly been left for me, bit into it and squeezed, sucking the juice down. The action made me smile. My mother misunderstood.

“You are laughing? Keep on laughing now, since obviously I am a ridiculous woman not worthy of your respect.”

“Mum, I was not laughing at you. I was remembering something. When are they getting here?” Perhaps I had been too hasty with my affections this morning. “I would like to go for a walk.”

“To where? On Christmas day? Nothing will be open. The masquerades are coming out tomorrow. I thought we could just sit together and be thankful for what we have, maybe pray together since you can’t find it in your heart to go to church.” She took a look at my face and continued hastily. “We could watch some films. I bought plenty-plenty and you haven’t had time to watch them with me.”

I looked at her wringing her hands, sitting in a fresh cream blouse and dusky pink maxi skirt and sighed. ‘Okay we can watch a film. No bible study though. It’s just that I always find it strange going to church on a day that isn’t Sunday, even if it’s Christmas day.”

“Mmm…ngwa select the one you want us to watch from this pile. Let me make you a plate. Do you want meat pie? You really need to eat more, you are too thin,” my mother bounded away. I heard her clanging away in the kitchen opening containers and tins of snacks.

“I love you,” I said under my breath. She sang louder.

***

Greg collapsed into the nearest sofa as soon as he entered the house behind his mother. He didn’t even take his sunglasses off.

“Happy Christmas, Aunty Bene,” I said.

Aunty Bene was a slim woman of average height. The deep grooves worn in her face from laughing sagged, giving her a newer expression of a sad puppy. I hugged her with both hands, keeping my face close to hers. She smelled of peppermints. She was addicted to the stuff when we were kids. It was good to see some things hadn’t changed.

“Abuotito,” she said in her sonorous voice. That was one of the most surprising things about her, how deep her voice was,, how clear. It just wasn’t the kind of voice you expected her to have when we were kids with her bright eyes and constant smile. It suited her more somber expression now, as if she had grown into it. “How are you?” she asked simply.

That was the other thing I loved about Aunty Bene, Greg’s mum. She didn’t expect anything from anybody. It made me feel worse about not coming to see her.

“I am sorry I have not come to see you since I have been back,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears.

Aunty Bene sighed. “I told your mother not to disturb you. I know you have been busy,” Greg scowled on the sofa. “Although this one was right,” I saw a ghost of her former laughter play up around her mouth. “You did have time to grow all these hips and bottom.”

“Mum!” said Greg in warning.

“Mum, what again? That was what you told me now. Otito this, Otito that…”

“Mum, com’on. She knows her bum is big. Let is go,” Greg rubbed his temples.

“Do you still have a headache?” Aunty Bene asked. Greg nodded. “Oya go and take Paracetamol. You know where it is, you’re not a stranger to this house.”

“Nne, how are you? Merry Christmas,” said my mother when I moved aside. “Come and sit down. Don’t mind Otito. If you leave her she will keep you in this hallway all day.”

“Did you enjoy Greg’s place?” aske Aunty Bene.

“Pardon?”

“She said they did not go there,” said my mother. “Should I get you malt or stout?”

“Ah-ah, but Greg said he took her. Greg! Greg!” His mother craned her neck. “Let me know whether he has started lying in old age. Eh-he, Greg,” she said when he appeared, clutching a glass of water. “You said you took Abby to your place?”

I turned to him, confused. Normally, Greg and I could communicate without speaking and if there was something I should have been saying, I didn’t know what it was. I looked at him but he avoided my eyes.

“Am I missing something?” I looked around at the women in turn. Greg’s mother smiled a little bit.

“Ah,” she said. “You haven’t told her?”

“Told me what?” I asked.

“There hasn’t been time. It doesn’t matter,” Greg waved the question away. He sat beside his mother leaning his head on her shoulder. “Stop shouting my head is pounding.”

“It’s because you keep overworking yourself,” she said, taking the glass of water from his hand. “And why are you leaning on me? Wayo man.”

“Running kpuru kpuru all over the place,” said my mother.

I scoffed. “Greg? Work?” And then I remembered how Greg had barely been on our table the previous night. Something clicked. “Wait. Wait….”

“Leave it,Otito,” Greg warned again. I didn’t listen.

“You own that joint?” I stood up. “That is yours?” Everything made perfect sense. Greg and I often had similar ideas. No wonder the place looked so familiar the first time I walked in. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I sat down again. Why hadn’t Greg told me? It didn’t make any sense.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Otito, wait,” Greg was up. The mothers chuckled behind us. I could hear them talking as I ascended the short flight of stairs. I was waiting on the landing when Greg came up, holding his head. I punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell now?”

“Why did you not tell me that you owned that place? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Why did you assume that I didn’t own it?” He was shouting.

“What? That is crazy! How would I assume out of the blue that one joint out of a possible million in the world was yours?!”

“I don’t know. Why are you shouting?”

“I don’t know,” I shouted louder, angry at myself. “But I feel as if you are playing a game and I don’t know the rules or why. Why would you hide something like that?”

“I was going to tell you but other stuff happened!”

“What stuff? What other stuff? What are you talking about Greg?!”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I co-own the joint. It’s not just mine,” Greg rubbed his temples. “Happy?”

We paused, assessing each other like wrestlers in a ring.

“Did Eke give it to you as some part of …bumming deal?” I asked softly. I didn’t want them to hear is downstairs. “Because you don’t have to accept anything from him. You can make it all on your own Greg,” I tried to catch hold of him as he turned away. “You are smart and fit and so, so kind. You don’t need that guy.” Was it a case of pot calling kettle black? I tried not to think about Charles. I didn’t ask him to pay my mortgage after all. And I was working, unlike…well, I suppose Greg was working now too. Were we both the same then?

“Oh my God,” Greg threw his hands up. “For the last fucking time I am not fucking gay okay?”

He grabbed me and kissed me. Hard.