NewStats: 3,263,484 , 8,180,284 topics. Date: Friday, 06 June 2025 at 07:57 AM c6u5s

She worked as a nurse at a private hospital nearby, often seen in her crisp uniforms, sometimes returning late in the evenings with that hurried, purposeful stride of someone who had been on her feet for hours.

Despite the proximity of our rooms and the shared facilities of the BQ, our relationship remained distant—cordial, yes, but formal. She rarely smiled, and even when she did, it often felt like something she offered with effort. She wasn't rude, but there was always a barrier, an invisible wall that kept her interactions brief and clipped. In the months we had been neighbors, our conversations had never gone beyond greetings and the occasional exchange of utility bills.

So when she knocked on my door that morning and spoke in a tone that suggested discomfort, I was immediately intrigued.

“Sorry to bother you, Dave,” she began, her voice low, as if reluctant to continue. “But I happen to be looking for one of my... brassieres.”

I blinked.

For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her correctly. But her expression remained composed, if slightly flushed. My surprise must have been evident, because she continued quickly, as if to clarify the nature of her visit before it became any more awkward than it already was.

“I left it outside yesterday to dry. It’s black, with padded cups and lacy edges. I think maybe, by accident, you might have packed it in with your clothes?”

There was a pause. A rather thick silence hung between us for a second or two. I didn’t know whether to laugh, apologize, or just shut the door and pretend this was all a dream.

I finally sighed and shook my head gently. “I’m sorry, Sister Ms. Kay, but I didn’t see anything like that. And I’m quite sure I didn’t take it by mistake.”

Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer, as though trying to assess the truthfulness of my statement. Then, without saying anything more, she gave a short nod, turned around, and walked back to her room.

As I closed the door and returned to my bed, I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to myself. So, Sister Ms. Kay was missing a bra—and she thought I might have it? It was funny and absurd at the same time. There was no way I would have missed such a distinctive item if I had packed it along with my clothes. And frankly, there was no scenario where I wouldn’t notice a lacy, padded bra among my T-shirts and briefs.

Still amused, I switched the TV back on, letting the familiar buzz of a talk show fill the room. I sat for a while, aimlessly flipping through channels, before deciding to freshen up. It was time to brush my teeth and take a proper bath.

I pulled a clean towel from the wardrobe, grabbed my sponge case, toothbrush, and a tube of mint toothpaste, and headed out to the bathroom. The BQ's shared bathroom wasn't luxurious by any means, but since only Ms. Kay and I used it, we had managed to maintain a decent level of cleanliness. The tiled walls were a bit stained from age, and the showerhead had seen better days, but the water pressure was good and the tap, at least, worked.

After brushing my teeth and taking a refreshing shower, I returned to my room feeling more awake and human. I towel-dried my skin, applied a bit of lotion, and threw on a pair of comfortable jeans and a plain, soft T-shirt. The time was edging past nine when I heard a soft knock at the door, followed immediately by it swinging open.

That meant I wouldn’t have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. the next morning, and that simple fact filled me with quiet joy.

At twenty-seven, I was still a bachelor, living a fairly routine life and praying that someday soon, I would find stability—not just in my career but in my personal life as well. There was someone, of course. Damilola. She had been in my life for a while now, not exactly my girlfriend in the official sense, but certainly more than a friend. I still held on to the hope that she might someday become something more permanent. A life partner. A soulmate, if fate would have it.

Earlier on my way home, I had stopped by a roadside vendor and picked up two large loaves of bread, a few tins of sardines, and some other basic items to get me through the weekend. Dinner that night would be simple—sliced bread and a tin of sardines. Not the most exciting meal, but filling enough. I reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of soft drink, the condensation cold against my fingers. It would make a decent companion to my modest meal.

As I sat on the bed eating, my thoughts wandered, inevitably, to Damilola. She had promised to come around the next day. Her visits were always something I looked forward to, not necessarily because she was an excellent cook—because truthfully, she wasn’t. Nor was she particularly neat in that stereotypical “wifely” sense that some people still clung to. But her presence filled the room with warmth. She laughed easily, teased me endlessly, and made the small space feel less lonely, even if only for a few hours.

After eating, I wiped my hands, leaned back on the bed, and turned on the small television set I had managed to mount on the wall. I flipped through the channels and settled, as I often did, on one of the movie channels. An action film was playing—one I had seen before—but I didn’t mind. There was something comforting about revisiting familiar stories, especially on evenings like this. Before long, fatigue overcame me, and I drifted off to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark except for the flickering light from the TV. The clock on my phone read 11:03 p.m. I groaned slightly as I sat up, suddenly ing the clothes I had hung out to dry earlier that morning. They would be perfectly dry by now. I stepped outside into the cool night air, which felt good against my skin. The compound was quiet, save for the distant barking of a dog and the occasional hum of a ing car. I pulled the clothes off the line quickly and returned inside, dropping them on the far end of my bed.

I sank back into the sofa and watched the last few scenes of the movie. Sleep returned shortly after, and this time, I welcomed it without resistance. I must have slept deeply because when I woke up the next morning, it was already bright outside. A quick glance at my phone told me it was 8:08 a.m. I lay on the bed for a few more minutes, enjoying the rare luxury of not having to rush off anywhere.

Then came a soft knock at the door.

I sat up, surprised. Who could it be this early? Damilola? That seemed unlikely. She usually came around in the afternoon. I reached for my phone again to double-check the time. Still 8:08. The knock came again, a little firmer this time.

Yawning, I stood up and stretched. I was still in my boxers, and my hair was tousled from sleep. I walked to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.

Standing there was Ms. Kay, the second occupant of the boys’ quarters. She smiled politely.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” I replied, blinking in the light.

We had been neighbors for months, exchanging occasional pleasantries but not much more. This was the first time she had come to knock on my door. I wondered, curiously, what could have brought her here this morning.


I gave her a small nod and a polite smile. “Good morning, Sister. Kay.”

Though I was fairly certain that we were close in age—perhaps just a year or two apart—I sometimes addressed her as "Sister." Not out of any deep cultural obligation, but more as a form of quiet respect and perhaps a subtle buffer. Ms. Kay carried herself with a certain aloofness that made her feel older than she looked.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman—tall, fair-skinned, with sharp features and a graceful elegance that made her stand out. She worked as a nurse at a private hospital nearby, often seen in her crisp uniforms, sometimes returning late in the evenings with that hurried, purposeful stride of someone who had been on her feet for hours.

Something Fishy About Ms. Kay





Titoo



© 2025


Living with Ms. Khadijat Abdulrazak, also known as Ms. Kay, as a neighbor is peaceful and harmonious until an underwear goes missing and every thing turns upside. The end result is beyond what Dave could have imagined.




This story was formerly titled 'The Missing Soulmate.'
It has been revised and enlarged.







As the rickety yellow-and-black commercial bus, popularly called a “danfo,” rumbled down Opebi Road, weaving through the early evening traffic with the typical recklessness of Lagos drivers, I leaned forward slightly and tapped the conductor on the shoulder. He was clinging to the bus’s open door as usual, half in and half out, his arm wrapped tightly around the door rail for balance. His T-shirt, once white but now a dingy shade of grey, clung to his back with sweat.

“Next bus stop,” I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the blaring noise of the city – the honking cars, the cries of hawkers darting between lanes, and the roar of the bus’s own protesting engine.

The conductor gave a brief nod without looking back, his mind likely more focused on counting his crumpled naira notes and making sure he didn’t miss the next wave of engers. Moments later, the bus lurched to the side, tires squealing as the driver swerved sharply, and I grabbed the backrest in front of me for . As soon as the vehicle came to a near stop—since danfos rarely ever fully stop—I stepped off quickly, careful not to get caught by the sliding door or hit by the swarm of motorcycles that buzzed by like angry bees.

I adjusted my backpack and took a deep breath. The sun was already retreating, casting long shadows on the road and bathing the buildings in a soft orange hue. I turned down Aderiye Crescent, a relatively quiet street compared to the madness I had just escaped. The air was slightly fresher, and the faint scent of jollof rice cooking somewhere in the distance teased my nostrils. I walked with purpose toward Number 13, the house I had come to call home.

The building was a modest storey house, painted white—though time and Lagos weather had dulled its brightness, giving it a somewhat tired look. The structure was functional rather than beautiful, with its sharp edges and plain design. It stood squarely on its plot, surrounded by a low fence topped with rusted iron spikes. Inside the compound, a small cemented courtyard separated the main building from the rear quarters.

There were four flats in total—two on the ground floor and two directly above them—each consisting of two bedrooms, a small living room, and a kitchen. These were occupied by tenants who kept mostly to themselves, except for the occasional greeting in the mornings or on weekends. Behind the main house stood the boys’ quarters, a smaller structure painted in the same now-fading white as the main house. It was built with practicality in mind, a simple block of three rooms arranged in a row, each one opening into a narrow corridor that ran along its front.

Of the three rooms in the BQ, one had been converted into a shared kitchenette—a humble space with a single electric stove, a few old pots and pans, and some shelves cluttered with spices and provisions. Another served as a communal bathroom with a faded shower curtain and a constantly dripping tap, while the third functioned as the toilet, which we all used with silent tolerance.

My room, the last on the left, was where I had been staying for nearly a year now. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. I had managed to make it comfortable—a single bed with a decent mattress, a small fridge in the corner humming softly, a wooden stool that doubled as a nightstand, and a secondhand sofa I had bought from a colleague at work. A small wall shelf held my books, a few framed photos, and a radio that had seen better days. On the far side of the room was a portable wardrobe that stood slightly lopsided.

When I stepped into the room that evening, it was just a few minutes to 7:00 p.m., and I felt the fatigue of the day crash over me like a wave. I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the bed with a deep sigh. My back ached, my feet were sore, and my head was still buzzing from the noise and chaos of Lagos traffic. Commuting daily between Opebi and Apogbon on Lagos Island, where I worked as a junior ant in a medium-sized firm, was draining both mentally and physically. But it was Friday. That meant I wouldn’t have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. the next morning, and that simple fact filled me with quiet joy.

The manufacturing company also promised free international discreet packaging, two weeks of processing time and one week for shipping, making a total of three weeks’ delivery time.


The cost was over 2,000 US dollars. Eddie mentally calculated that in naira. Even if he could make the payment and do the order that very moment, he would still have to wait for about three weeks to get it.

On impulse, he decided to check if there could be a shop here in Nigeria that sold the dolls. His on-line search yielded fruit. One Amorisia Stores at Ikeja sold the items. The mobile telephone numbers were there on the website. He called the first number.

'Hello. Good evening. Is that Amorisia store?'

'Yes. Good evening,' a female voice answered him. 'How can I help you?'

'I just visited your website, now. I understand your company imports and sells sex dolls.'

'Yes, that is true,' came the prompt answer. 'We also sell different intimacy gadgets and sexy wears.'

He sighed. 'I'm only interested in the dolls. Like how much is one?'

'It depends on what you want. We have varieties of them. You need to visit our store to see their catalogues and samples of the dolls.'

He nodded. 'Aright. I'll do that tomorrow. Who am I speaking with?'

'The name is Linda. I'm the Manager.'

'Alright, see you tomorrow, Linda.'

Eddie grinned to himself as he cut the line. Tomorrow, unfailingly, he must visit that shop.

* * *

Wendy watched in satisfaction as the man she had come to meet became limp on the bed in sleep. She smiled to herself. She had heard a lot from the students about what a philanderer the man was.

Now, it was payback time. She had decided to prey on him, just as she had done to several other randy men.

She jumped to her feet as there was no time to waste. Just look at the yeye man who, moments ago, was gladly running his tongue all over her boobs! What he didn't know was that she had coated her organ with a powerful sleeping drug which she had powdered.

He would be asleep for a couple of hours. She put her boobs back in the cups of her bra and fastened the bra. She then wore her top.
He had not removed his clothes. She quickly searched through her pockets.

She found his wallet, some currencies and two phones. She put these in her handbag and searched to see if there was any other valuable on him. Apart from his car key and a bunch of keys, there was nothing else.

Silly and stupid, randy man, she thought again.

I paused for emphasis. "I was not supposed to break my resolve. We were not to have sex. Not for now."

"Oh, that," she said dismissively. "Tayo, forget it. We've gone past that stage."

"But we can still practise it. We can decide that no sex again till we're married."

She laughed shortly and derisively.

"Oh, come on, Tayo, stop being so childish. What makes you think I want to marry in the first place?"

I was surprised to hear this.

"Is this relationship not moving towards marriage? I thought that was the agreement we had when I said we should observe no premarital sex."

She shook her head.

"I'm not the marriage type. I thought I've told you. I don't need marriage. If I needed it, I would have married long ago.

"Then, I had been deceived into thinking that my relationship with her would lead to marriage! My mind screamed.

"So, you're not the marriage type," I said."No, I'm not. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Hmm."

She wrapped her right hand round my neck, pushing her breast against my side. "Give me love, baby boy."

"I will, my darling."I kissed her waiting lips gently.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she whispered.

I nodded and agreed without a question. Like a real loverboy, I carried her to my bedroom.

"UnCloth me," she said.Once again, I totally obliged her. I removed her t-shirt and jeans tros.

She was now left in only black bra and pant.She was certainly bewitching. Even at her age, she looked enthralling as she lie on my bed.

"You too UnCloth," she instructed.

Yemite132:
My name his Ola from Lagos single cause girls always leave me cause I have a high sex drive..love having sex everyday and can go for more than 4 rounds in a role and would like to meeting someone so my is 09030623315

Sex is overrated.
You can consciously do without it.

Like a baby sucking at the breast of his mother, Joe Sabada slept off.


* * *



Right after his dinner, Eddie returned to his bedroom. In the comfort and privacy of the room, he brought out his lap-top computer and went on-line. He had decided that he must learn about sex dolls and would probably use the service.

Google availed him as much information on the sex object as he desired. There were various pictures of the objects and there was a particular one that caught his attention. The sex doll, made of Thermoplastic Elastomer (TPE) material had B-cup boobs.


It stood at 5 feet 2 inches tall (156 cm). The manufacturer asserted that with the doll, vaginal, anal and MouthAction was possible. It had steel skeleton with movable ts and weighed 95 lbs (43 kg). He also gleefully read the other details of the doll which included the fact that it had 31.5 inches at the bust, waist size of 25 inches and hips size of 43 inches.

The manufacturing company also promised free international discreet packaging, two weeks of processing time and one week for shipping, making a total of three weeks’ delivery time. The cost was over 2,000 US dollars. Eddie mentally calculated that in naira.

Even if he could make the payment and do the order that very moment, he would still have to wait for about three weeks to get it. On impulse, he decided to check if there could be a shop here in Nigeria that sold the dolls. His on-line search yielded fruit. One Amorisia Stores at Ikeja sold the items. The mobile telephone numbers were there on the website. He called the first number.

'Hello. Good evening. Is that Amorisia store?'

'Yes. Good evening,' a female voice answered him. 'How can I help you?'

'I just visited your website, now. I understand your company imports and sells sex dolls.'

'Yes, that is true,' came the prompt answer.

'We also sell different intimacy gadgets and sexy wears.'

He sighed. 'I'm only interested in the dolls. Like how much is one?'

'It depends on what you want. We have varieties of them. You need to visit our store to see their catalogues and samples of the dolls.'

He nodded. 'Aright. I'll do that tomorrow. Who am I speaking with?'

'The name is Linda. I'm the Manager.'

'Alright, see you tomorrow, Linda.'

Eddie grinned to himself as he cut the line. Tomorrow, unfailingly, he must visit that shop.






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Her leather bag still remained in booth of the car as she took only her handbag.

I stopped to look at her.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she said.

I preceded her to my bedroom. Now, I was all curious as I stared at her again. She deliberately took her time, opening her bag slowly.

She brought out a bottle of perfume and sprayed it into the air. The scent was exotic and erotic. She then started removing her cloth.

"I want to see the surprise you have for me," I said gently.

"Sh-sh-sh," she hushed me.

After the jacket, she removed her blouse. From there, her hands went to her skirt to unzip it and pull it down. Her hands moved up to bust to remove her white bra.

The nipples of her jaunty breasts stared back at me. The pair was indeed a sight to behold.
Her hands moved down again to the tight shorts she was wearing. Gingerly, she pulled it down and stepped out of it.

Ms. Morgan was now standing completely naked before me.

"This is what I want to show you," she cooed.





A couple of hours later, I drove Ms. Morgan to her Ilupeju residence. She held on to my right hand, even as I drove. She was looking like someone who had finally got what she had been longing for. At the gate of her residence, I didn't bother to drive in.

She kissed me goodnight, went to carry her bag from the booth and walked inside her compound. There was a look of contentment on her face. I started to drive the car back to my residence. I was angry with myself. I was angry because I had failed in adhering to my principle. I had failed.

I had allowed Ms. Morgan's enchanting body to ensnare me. I had fallen for her charming looks and body! I believed I had made a blunder and I must stop it henceforth. There was no way I would ever gloat over what I had done. Rather, it riled my heart that I had become weak.

That evening, I didn't feel like eating that evening. I didn't even feel like watching the t.v. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. The image of Ms. Morgan popped up. It was her naked body as she stood before me.

That was the most daring moment I had ever faced from a woman. I could have said no. I could have said I would not breach my moral code.

But, I did not.






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The feel of her orgasm soon tensed and angled for release through her. It demanded that she should concentrate on pleasure zone to get the best.
Within seven minutes, he got to his peak. She felt him come too, his thrusts deep and intense inside her. When their pleasure had subsided he pulled out of her gently and they clung to each other for a moment. In some minutes to come, he was energized enough to start on another coital trip with her.



* * *


After the first time that Dora and Eddie had intimate time together, he discovered something about himself. His libido had increased tremendously. He now craved for sex more than ever. Every day, he must have the craving. Dora had been a good source of exploring his indulgence, but she was not always available for him. She had variety of clientele to serve and there was no way a man could pin her down.

Now, Eddie was spending a lot to satisfy his lustful whims, and he seemed to be enjoying doing so.

This evening, he called Dora again.

'Dora, how are you?'

'Fine. How're you too?'

'I'm sick and I need sexual healing.'

She chuckled. 'That's serious.'

'Yes. Very serious. Let's meet in our usual place tonight.'

'I'm sorry, that cannot be. I'm in Abuja, right now.'

'Phew!' he whistled to himself. What a miss! Yet, he must satisfy himself this evening. He didn't really fancy jumping from one sex worker to another, so the idea of running to meet another one did not really appeal to him. So, what would he do? Why can't you marry again? He asked himself. Another part of his mind said: yes, you lost your wife sometimes ago, couldn't you take another woman? Was that not more dignifying than these lustful games?

He got home few minutes to six o'clock. His children were all at home.

'How was school?' he asked them.

'Fine, daddy,' Josephine, the third child said.

'Daddy, our Maths teacher said I should buy a new Mathematical set,' Ruth, the last born said.

He grinned and nodded at her. 'That will be no problem. Tell him I will get it for you tomorrow.' He turned to the second child.

'Nnena, how was JAMB lesson today?'

'Fine, dad.'

He tried to be as caring as possible to his children. He soon retired to his room. He wasn't still sure if he would go out or not. He was still deliberating when a knock sounded on his bedroom door.

'Yes, come in.'

The door was opened. It was Mary, the house-girl.

'Oga, food don ready,' she announced.

He nodded. 'Okay. I'll soon be coming over to the dining table.'

She retreated from his room, gently closing the door. Why not use her to satisfy yourself sexually? A part of his mind asked. What! A house girl! She couldn't be more than sixteen, so technically, she was still a minor. As a lawyer, he knew the implication.

No, another part of his mind said. He would not bring himself down so low to do such a thing. He went out of the bedroom to the side of the living-room where the dining-table was. His children were already there, eating.
He ate from his plate slowly, thinking about many things.

Then, his mind dwelt on an issue and he smiled to himself. Should he give it a trial? At the initial stage, it seemed to be outlandish, but perhaps in the long run, it would pay off. He nodded to himself. After the meal, he would go on the internet and make some findings.


* * *


Joe Sabada had another appointment with a lady at Lolita Hotel. This time around the lady he would be meeting was not a student of the university where he worked. This latest lady, Wendy, worked at Lagoon-View University as a business center sales attendant.

Sometimes, the department photocopier machine would have fault that would necessitate Joe taking flash drive to print some documents at one of the business centers around. About a week ago, he had met Wendy at work. She was quite tall and chubby; and gifted with a pretty face.

Standing at almost six feet, she was much taller than him. The lurid thought that came to his mind was to ask himself if tall girls were good in bed. Most of the girls and young ladies he had affairs with were of average height.
He decided it would not be a bad idea if he should experiment with Wendy.

He had struck friendship with her and was able to get her number. To soften her mind, he had sent N2,000 recharge pin number to her phone. Now, he had a date with her at the hotel.

He didn't like the fact that she came quite late for the appointment. She was supposed to meet him by seven o'clock. Ten minutes after seven, he was still waiting. When it was quarter past the hour, he put a call across to her.

'Wendy, where're you?' he demanded.

'Sorry, I'm on my way. I'll soon be there.'

'I'm waiting.'

She was lucky she was not his student. If she were to be, he knew how he would deal with her. It still took another fifteen minutes before she finally came.

'I'm so sorry,' she apologized. 'My boss did not allow me to close on time.'

He sighed and managed a grin. 'The good thing is you're here now.'

'Yes, sorry about the delay.'

He tried to wave it off. 'It's alright. I've already booked a room. Let's go there.' He quickly finished the remaining drinks in his glass cup. They went to the room he had booked, which happened to be the same room where he had bedded many young ladies.

'Can I get something to eat?' she asked. 'I'm famished.'

He smiled at her and nodded. 'Don't worry. I'll order for room service.'

As soon as they settled down in the room, he grinned and turned to her.

'What food will you have?'

'Fried rice and chicken,' her answer came promptly.

He nodded and ordered for the food. She took the food slowly as if she had all the time in the world. Though he was eager to have his way with her, he didn't rush her. After what looked like ages, she finished her eating. Joe would start with her the way he normally started with ladies, which was the handling of the boobs. From there, he proceeded to the second stage which was teasing and sucking the boobs. Wendy encouraged him on. In fact, she made sure he did the sucking more than he had probably done to any lady before.

Moments later, something odd happened to Joe. He could simply not proceed to the next stage. This very last action brought the kind of grogginess he had never felt before. He lay on the bed, Wendy's right nipple still in his mouth. Like a baby sucking at the breast of his mother, Joe Sabada slept off.




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Once upon a time in the bustling city of Aetheria, there lived a young gentleman named Sola. With an impeccable sense of style and a warm smile that could light up the gloomiest day, Sola captivated those around him. But what truly set him apart wasn’t just his charming demeanor; it was his unwavering commitment to a life of discipline. A teetotaler by choice, Sola had made it a point to abstain from alcohol, believing that clarity of mind and heart was the key to happiness.

His friends, a wild and vivacious bunch, would often tease him about his choices. “Come on, Sola! Just one drink!” they would joke, raising their glasses in mockery. They couldn’t understand how someone could enjoy life while steering clear of the wild nights that flowed with cocktails and laughter. Even his girlfriend, Mia, had her reservations. While she ired his principles, she sometimes found herself bewildered by his strict abstinence from not just alcohol, but from casual romance as well. “Is it really that hard to let loose a little?” she would ask, a touch of frustration in her voice.

Yet, Sola remained steadfast, never wavering in his beliefs. He would always smile and reply, “It’s not about what you consume, but how you engage with the world. And I choose to engage fully, with all my senses intact.” His friends would roll their eyes, but deep down, they respected him for his conviction—even if they didn’t fully understand it.

One Friday evening, a grand party was thrown at one of their friend’s fancy penthouses. The venue was drenched in colorful lights, pulsating music, and laughter that echoed into the night. Sola’s friends coaxed him to , promising that he wouldn’t regret it. “Just have a soda or something!” they urged. With a cheerful nod, Sola agreed, determined to enjoy the festivities without compromising his values.

As the night unfolded, Sola found himself in a swirl of conversation, laughter, and dance. His friends danced wildly, and although he didn’t partake in their revelry, he felt an electric energy that was hard to ignore. He moved through the crowd, laughing at their antics, and ing in lighthearted games. Mia watched him from afar, initially feeling embarrassed by his restraint, but soon she realized how effortlessly he connected with everyone, engaging in conversations that sparked genuine joy.

Later in the evening, as the party reached its peak, one of Sola’s friends challenged him to a friendly game of truth or dare. The group erupted in excitement. “Sola can’t even handle a dare!” they teased. But Sola, with a twinkle in his eye, graciously accepted.

The first few rounds were filled with silly dares and confessions, but eventually, the spotlight turned to Sola. “Truth or dare, Sola?” a mischievous grin spread across his friend’s face.

“Truth,” Sola declared.

“Why are you so afraid to break loose and have some fun?” the question hit the air like a thunderbolt.

For a moment, Sola paused, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. “I’m not afraid of letting loose. I’m afraid of losing who I am. When we’re in our right minds, we can create true connections, discover new ideas, and explore life’s wealth without the fog of distractions.” Cheers erupted from the crowd, mixed with applause and a newfound respect for Sola’s perspective.

Mia’s heart swelled with pride. In a world that often equated fun with chaos, Sola stood as a beacon of clarity. The night continued, and she realized maybe it wasn’t his abstinence that made him strange; it was his remarkable ability to live fully in the moment without losing himself in indulgence.

As the evening came to a close, Mia walked beside Sola, their hands intertwined. “You handled that brilliantly,” she said, curiosity shining in her eyes. “But tell me, do you think you’ll ever… loosen up a bit? Just a little?”

Sola chuckled softly, “I’m open to experiences, Mia. I just believe that there are so many wonders to explore in life that don’t require us to lose ourselves. And I love sharing those experiences with you.”

With a newfound understanding blooming between them, Mia looked at Sola with iration. He wasn’t just a gentleman; he was a true friend, a companion whose heart beat in rhythm with life’s vibrant pulse. And maybe, just maybe, there was beauty in his discipline that the world could learn from.

From that night on, Sola continued to embrace his choices, cultivating deeper connections while inspiring others to see the joy of living with intention. And while his friends might have poked fun, they began to realize that Sola’s path wasn’t one of limitation, but of liberation. It was a journey of authenticity, and that was something to celebrate!

Positive Effects of Chastity Before Marriage

Researchers have found that chastity before marriage offers many benefits, including a decreased chance of psychological damage from expressing intimacy without commitment, freedom from sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and unwanted pregnancies, and an increase in marital stability and satisfaction.

imagrg:
I swear, it can!

It can not.
Money can buy you lust. It can buy you a partner, a sex mate, a willing lady, and so on.
It can't buy you love!

Abstinence, generally defined as the voluntary choice to refrain from certain behaviors, particularly sexual activity, can have several benefits depending on the context in which it is practiced. Here are some potential benefits of sexual abstinence:

Prevention of STIs: Abstaining from sexual activity significantly reduces the risk of sexually transmitted infections (STIs), including HIV/AIDS.
Unplanned Pregnancy Prevention: Abstinence eliminates the risk of unplanned pregnancies, which can have significant emotional, financial, and social implications.
Emotional Clarity: Abstinence can provide individuals with the time and space to understand their emotions and desires better, leading to healthier relationships in the future.
Focus on Personal Goals: By choosing abstinence, individuals may find it easier to focus on personal development, education, career goals, or other interests without the distractions that sexual relationships can sometimes bring.
Relationship Building: Abstaining from sexual activity can encourage deeper emotional connections and intimacy based on trust, respect, and compatibility rather than physical attraction alone.
Avoidance of Peer Pressure: Committing to abstinence can empower individuals to resist peer pressure and make choices that align with their personal values and beliefs.
Health Benefits: For some, abstinence may lead to improved mental health, reduced anxiety regarding sexual performance or relationship dynamics, and the opportunity to engage in self-reflection.
Cultural or Religious Alignment: For many individuals, abstinence aligns with their moral, cultural, or religious values, providing a greater sense of purpose and fulfillment in their lives.
Enhanced Communication Skills: Choosing abstinence can foster more open and honest discussions about relationships, boundaries, and consent, which are essential for healthy interactions.
Longer-Term Relationship Success: Some studies suggest that couples who wait to engage in sexual activity until they are more committed or married may have stronger and more stable relationships.

It's important to note that the decision to abstain from sexual activity is personal and varies widely among individuals based on their circumstances, beliefs, and values. Each person's experience and motivations will differ, and these benefits may resonate differently with each individual.

The Trump istration is hyper active.

It is an istration seriously chasing after a whirlwind.


It will all end up in futility. At best, his efforts will cause more problems than it will ever solve.

"I called you to warn you not to develop any relationship with her. When I come to Lagos tomorrow, we'll see, my darling."

I grinned. "Okay, love."

I felt relieved about Sophia's angle. It was good her mother had told her to stay off. There was no way I could have managed that situation on my own without creating hostility.

In the afternoon, Sophia called me again. "Why didn't you tell me you and mum are lovers?"

"But..."

"But what? Why are you Nigerian guys like this? Why're you such opportunist?"

I decided not say a word, though I knew she was wrong in making generalization.

"I suppose you will squeeze her as much as popossible and dump her when it's convenient," she prattled on.

I still kept mute. Finally, she hanged up. Phew! What an unpleasant encounter.





Ms. Morgan said she would come back to Lagos early Friday evening. We chatted on the phone briefly. I gave her some business reports. They were good reports that she was pleased with.

"I want you to meet me at the airport," she said. "Come and pick me up."

"At your service," I replied and laughed.
Hours later, I was at the local wing of the MM International Airport to meet her. I helped her to carry the leather bag she had travelled with to my car.

"You look gorgeous as ever," I commented as soon as we entered the car.

"My baby boy is looking great too," she replied, eying me over.

"How was the trip?"

She smiled and nodded. "Fine. Very fine."

As I drove to the main road, she instructed that I should drive to my residence.

"There's something I want to show you there."

"Something you want to show me? What could that be?"

"Just wait, darling. Wait until we get there."

We went up the staircase with her snuggling up to me, as if we were lovers arriving for a honeymoon. Her leather bag still remained in booth of the car as she took only her handbag.




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