My first taste of dick was salty.
It was my cousin’s friend and I was in a hurry. I had told my cousin I needed to use the toilet and he was waiting for me in the car, just outside the gates. I am not sure what made me attempt to suck my first dick under these conditions – call it naivety – but the minute that dick slipped into my mouth I knew I had bitten off more than I could chew, so to speak. He was a big man; 6 feet 3 in his socks, with a veiny phallus that resembled a tuber of yam tied with rope.
“What are you doing?” he chuckled, as I pushed him down on the loveseat and unbuckled his hefty belt. What was I doing? As if he did not know. He had spent all week long teasing me, whipping me into a frenzy until he made it into my dreams. Now my every moment was full of thoughts of him. At night, when my bladder became too full and pressed pleasantly against my g-spot, I would rub my clit and think of him until I came, wishing I had to courage to relieve myself right there on my mattress, imagining it was his body. I had a feeling he would be into kink. I ascribed all sorts of qualities to him, resizing him to fit my every fantasy. I did not pee on my bed though. My mother would have thrashed me until I resembled a zebra. Sixteen-year-olds did not wet the bed.
Outside, my cousin tapped his horn, twice. My heart raced and my loins flooded. We were supposed to be going somewhere and then he would drop be back at my parents’ house. Such urgency only served to heighten my pleasure. I was leaking from everywhere and I had not even started yet.
“Shhhh,” I said to his friend. He’d gasped as I unbuckled his trousers.
He smelled of warm, secret places. Skin and sweat, the unmistakable smell of genitals. I sniffed, inhaled deeply. His pubes were long and tickled my nostrils. Placing a hand midway on his dick, I covered my teeth like my aunty Cosmo always instructed and attempted to slip him into my mouth. The corners of my mouth tightened and hurt. I thought I was going to have The Joker’s smile before I was done. In my mind’s eye, I could see people staring at me, pointing at my scarred mouth and whispering ‘That girl is no longer pure. She has eaten bearded meat.’
“Ahhh, ahhhh, this girl, you’re crazy,” he said. “I thought this would never happen.” I ignored the pain in my mouth as my head swelled, resolving to put some Vaseline on it later. I sucked deep, making noise. Saliva poured from my mouth. My cousin tapped his horn again.
“You have to….ahhhh…you have to go,” he said. Then as I made to move he grabbed my head, keeping it in place. “Don’t stop,” he begged.
My cousin could have been getting robbed just outside the gates for all I cared. This dick was mine, this man was mine and I was going to finish what I started. I sucked harder. His crotch followed my head up from the loveseat.
“Whoa, baby, that’s hard,” he said.
“Sorry,” I raised my head, sensitive to criticism. It was my first time after all, but I wanted him to think I had done it before, that I was great at it. I wanted him to keep melting for me.
“No, I like it. Do it again,” he braced himself, one arm on the wall beside him and the other on the head of the loveseat. His belt buckled clinked as he readjusted. His dick was hotter when I slid it back into my mouth. He was a mouthful. A hot, salty, slippery mouthful. I traced the veins with my tongue. I went on instinct, nibbling the thing along its length with my lips, small, quick kisses like it was a corn on the cob. He raised off the seat some more. I grabbed his ass. It was round and hard. I found I could almost fit my entire tongue inside the weeping eye of his penis and did so, licking him out.
“Uhhh…” He made a small thrusting motion and hit the back of my throat, in spite of my hand in the middle of his dick. “God. Uhhhh…com’on you have to go,” he said. A moment later, still holding me in place with a hand placed behind my neck, he added, “Keep going, that feels good. You really have to go, your cousin is waiting…..ahhh. Don’t stop.”
I was going back to boarding school the next day and did not want to miss doing something about him. Of course I was going to keep going! My long vac had tickled away with the speed of an intravenous drip. I had been bored out of my mind. Nothing happened until two weeks to the end of holidays when my cousin’s friend came to visit. It took four days for me to notice the way he looked at me, the smiles, the looks out of the corners of his eyes. The way his tongue darted out, quick as a snake’s when he spoke to me and my cousin was not looking. In my defence, the first four days, I only saw him twice. But after I realised that he liked me, it became a whole other story.
I did not leave my cousin’s side once in those ten days –except to go to sleep. My father was pleased that we were getting closer. He gave me permission to spend time with my cousin even though my mum, ever the hawk, watched me with sharp eyes and muttered how weird it was that I suddenly wanted to hang out with my cousin who’d been living in town for nine months.
Once, in the car with this friend, my cousin had stopped to buy something in a supermarket. I declined the offer to come in, citing tiredness, knowing that his friend would stay to keep me company. While my cousin was away, I let my thighs fall open in the backseat. Not too much. Just enough that it looked like an accident. Enough that I saw his eyes widen when he turned around to chat with me. I kept my voice light and pretended not to notice his eyes kept travelling down. With my arms crossed, with the innocuous things we talked about, with the way I looked out of the window, he got the message. He could look, but not touch. He respected my boundaries, even though his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. And when I saw my cousin coming, I closed my legs and adjusted my dress and I could tell from the look in his friend’s eyes that he knew what I had done and was going to make me pay for it. Boy, did he ever. What followed was the most exquisite foreplay; accidental brush-bys, and meaningful glances and double-entendres. Ad infinitum.
He would say “Hey, you want to be a writer, what do you think of this?” and read me the most loaded lines of poetry that went over my poor cousin’s logical head. Lines that turned my loins to mush and brought a twinkle to his eye. Sometimes, I excused myself to use the loo and would rub one out quickly, biting down on my shirt or dress to keep from crying out. When I came back, he would sit there, chest rising and falling, mocking me with a huge smirk on his face. I couldn’t go back to light-hearted cheer immediately after those sessions and I could tell he was trying to control himself too. My cousin would look bewildered and suspicious at the sudden silence and neither of us could meet the other’s eyes for fear of letting my cousin see what we felt.
My cousin did not leave us alone for the four hours I hung out in his apartment that last day – not even to bathe. I have never cursed my cousin so much. Now, the hands I had dreamed of fingering me were clasped around my shoulders; long, beautifully straight with clean, square nails. He caressed my neck, holding himself up by the power of his thighs.
“Are you cumming?” I asked, dribble flowing into the hollow of my throat.
He laughed incredulously and settled himself back down, flexing his toes. His lack of control was written in every movement.
“Come here,” he pulled me up and kissed me, sticking his tongue in my mouth. His tongue was even meatier in my head, it wiggled about hardening my nipples, sending goosebumps down my arms. I wanted to straddle him right there, pull my soaked pants to the side and grind my way to hallelujah.
“God I wish I had come here sooner,” he said.
And he said, “I want to fuck you so badly.”
And he asked, “Do you want to fuck me?” but I didn’t answer because I was not ready for that.
I let him kiss me again, then I went back down. I was sloppy and hurried and messy and he loved it.
“Nnenna, Nnenna, Nnenna, God almighty, you are killing me,” he said.
I pulled my dress up. I couldn’t take it anymore. Cumming by my own hand was not what I had in mind but at least we’d be doing so together and that was something. My fingertips instantly puckered up, I was that saturated. I concentrated on getting into a rhythm. He helped, thrusting a little towards me when I lowered my head, sliding my hand down the length and depth of my slit.
Suddenly I heard a rattle by the window. It took a moment for it to register. My cousin! I sprang away, pulling down my dress. I looked towards the louvres. My cousin’s eyes stared at me from behind the mosquito netting. It was dark in the room but not night. There were no lights on but there didn’t need to be. When he opened the louvres, the dying sun had burst into the room like the glory of God, illuminating our wicked ways. We shrank from it.
I grabbed my bag and left the room hurriedly. My cousin’s friend still lay there, looking dazed, his dick lying wetly against his betrousered thighs. I hated to leave him like that. I hated to leave me like that. I was strung tighter than a guitar. I cursed my cousin again.
As I approached the car, my heart raced. Had he seen us? Would he tell my dad? Was he disappointed in me? No, I rationalised. He had not seen us. It was the same as looking through glass in the daytime – only one’s reflection would show up. But it was evening. Had it been dark enough?
“Sorry, I thought I was going to do a number two,” I said when I got into my cousin’s car. He said nothing. My heart tried to squeeze itself out of my mouth.
“Put on your seatbelt,” he said gruffly but my cousin was always gruff and this was not proof of whether he had seen anything or not. All through the ride home I felt alternatively sick to my stomach and tickled in my loins. I remembered the way his friend had hissed and twisted, the ‘ahhhs’ and murmurs of appreciation. I thought of my cousin’s stony silence. The way he still had not looked at me since after he asked me to put on my seat belt.
I tried to crack jokes, to talk with him like I always did and after a while, he responded, still keeping his eyes on the road.
“Bye, thank you!” I said when he dropped me off at my dad’s.
“Wait,” he said. I froze. Maybe he was going to chastise me. Maybe he would scold me. How would he start? God. It was so humiliating. It was especially humiliating because I had my mouth on his friend’s dick – something about fellatio seemed to be viewed as debased somehow, even if most of us did it. I cursed myself for my foolishness. Why had I not made a move earlier? Why hadn’t he? Why did I not simply let sleeping dicks lie and see to myself the way I always had?
“Here,” he pulled out a wad of notes. “Add this to your pocket money.”
It was with joy that I bounded upstairs to my room, greeting my mother as I ran. I had to use the toilet – for real this time. I was bursting. In more ways than one. I locked the door. My over-wet pants fell to the tiled floors. I turned to sit on the toilet, to spread my legs and finish what had been started and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Lip gloss and saliva were smeared all over my cheeks.
Only an idiot or a child would not have known what I was doing. Unfortunately for me, my cousin was neither.
I never saw his friend again.