AYILARA AVENUE: CHRONICLE OF A STREET GIRL! Call Me Whatever Name; My Husband’s 16-year-old Son Fathered My Only Child [CONCLUDING PART]

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“Alright sir,” I agreed. And the visit was for Friday at his office. It was just two days away. On the appointed day, I was at his office and we chatted. It was there he told me about himself and how he’d been struck the first moment his eyes caught sight of me. He said he was hoping for a relationship between us.

          “You could marry me. I really would love you to. I will take good care of your and I promise you won’t lack anything,” he said solemnly. However, he said I could take my time to consider it before replying. Then he changed the topic and talked of something else.

          He took me out to lunch and we had a swell time together. He was really a nice man with a good sense of humour. I enjoyed his company. He took me home in the evening.

          Then he began visiting me at home. He never brought up the topic of the relationship he talked about again. He met my parents and they all took to one another and he was very generous to them. He and my dad became jolly good friends. Now my dad had just been retired from service after spending years as a school headteacher. Dele bought a Mercedes Benz V-booth for dad and opened a supermarket for mum. I knew it was his strategy to win them and mum had begun to talk about me marrying him. She said we would make a marvelous couple. The world marvelous I could tell didn’t fit in.

          Anyway, when the topic of marriage came up again, I didn’t object. My parents were for him and on my part, I didn’t see anything wrong with him. I decided to overlook his age. And that was it, before long, marriage came.

          Just before the union, he brought me down to Lagos to meet his sons. Four of them. The oldest was about my age. He didn’t like the idea of his father remarrying and all the smile he put on only helped to pain his disapproval of me. Then the twins Taiwo and Kehinde, were indifferent. Like Segun, the oldest they were slim built and looked like their father. The youngest Tola was different, he welcomed me. He was tall, broad shouldered and muscularly built, always with a smile. You could tell he was the jolly type. He was bigger than his elder brothers even though he was only fifteen. I learnt he resembled his mother. He’d been her pet before she took ill and eventually passed on. He was very handsome that you would think he was in a movie. Forgive me I’m describing him as he has grown to be; but then, he was just a little boy of eight when I first met him.

          Anyway, the lot didn’t seem disrespectful. Apparently, they took Dele’s words as laws. He was their father and they dared not go against his will.

          “So, this is your home, Kemi,” Dele told me.

          Two months later we were married and we took off to South France for a three-week honeymoon. I was so thrilled. It was the first time I’d travelled out of the country.

          After the honeymoon, Dele went back to his business, travelling here and there. He was a very busy man. He was hardly around and I was always cold at night. By now, Segun and the twins had become undergraduates and had returned to school. Segun schooled at Minna, he was in his final year while the twins were at Ife. I was left at home with Tola who was now in S.S.3. He was a day student.

          I didn’t know where the temptation came from, maybe it was because Dele was hardly around and I’d begun to unconsciously feel lonely, I began to notice Tola’s manliness. His smooth skin caught the interest of my eyes. His muscular body was an excitement to watch. He was perfectly formed. Once he was back from school, he pulled off his uniform and remains in his boxers, without shirt. From the swing between his legs, when he walked about the house, you could tell that he had a huge manhood. Gosh, I always gasped – such a young boy! Yet he was so big a man.

          Another thing about him was that all hisfriend that came to visit him were girls. Some you could tell were older than he was. And he would sneak them into the boy’s quarters and you’d see him moving from the main house to the boy’s quarters as if he was looking for something else. I didn’t think he ever did the unthinkable to them. Told was too sweet to be that horrible bad, I always told myself. But sometimes, I imagined myself wrapped in his powerful arms.

          Then, on Saturday, when the maids had gone for the weekend, I returned from an outing and walked into Tola making love with a girl in the children parlour upstairs.

          They hadn’t heard me arrive. I was shocked to my wits as I saw the two children in start nakedness enjoying a forbidden passion.

          “Tola!” I called out in shock. He pulled away, shocked and embarrassed. He stared at me, his mouth agape as if he didn’t know what he was doing. The girl was equally shocked and embarrassed only that she appeared more scared. As I stared at them, I noticed the enormity of Tola’s manhood. I felt my legs go weak.

          I turned and left the room. I wasn’t angry with him and I wasn’t going to tell on him. But Tola came to my room later that evening to apologise.

          “But it’s bad of you Tola, you’re too young,” I told him.

          “I know but the girl had been on me for some time. I needed to give it to her,” he said albeit still contrite.

          But then my imagination became more vivid. The thought of his naked manhood disturbed my thoughts and send me craving for him. It took me a full month of fantasizing making love to my husband’s youngest son before it happened.

          That day, Dele had just travelled to Abuja, he was running after a government contract. He was home with Told and the maids were off for the day, I walked into his room to ask him what he would be having for dinner when I saw him masturbating. I was shocked. He was embarrassed. He tried to cover himself with a blanket but it was too useless.

          “Tola, that’s self abuse. Men who masturbate are inferior,” I told him. I knew that masturbation wasn’t healthy and was a sign of weakness and self-abuse.

          He was too embarrassed to speak. I sat down beside him on the bed, my eyes staring at his manhood. I was tempted to touch it but then I didn’t know where the devil came from, I reached out and held it and massaged it. The boy stared at me shocked.

          I gave him a leery smile. “Relax Tola,” I said.

          “But…” he wanted to say.

          “Be quiet,” I told him. His penis rose to life and stood erect. Truly, though he was Dele’s son, he was a lot bigger than his father even at that tender age. I began to kiss him. He kissed me too, so adroitly you would think he was a professional lover.

          Soon we were exploding in ecstatic pleasure. He was young, virile and full of life. I’d never enjoyed love-making like this before. And for over an hour we exploded. I had multiple orgasms for the first time in my life. And that began my illicit affair with my youngest stepson.

          Then I became pregnant. Dele thought it was his – naturally. I was very happy because at last I was pregnant after eight years of marriage without a child. But I knew it was Tola’s. Now I’ve been delivered of a baby girl – the baby girl my husband had always wanted. Guilt now disturbs me especially now that Dele spends more time at home to be with his sweet angel as he called my daughter. What if he knew that, in truth, she’s actually his granddaughter, the child of his youngest son? Oh God, please forgive me. My mind is not at rest, should I confess to my husband or I should just keep mute?