Children’s day was celebrated this week.
I did my morning routine as usual; dressing up for work and wondering why the federal government didn’t declare the day a public holiday. It would have saved me the stress of going to work today, and would have made my girl stay back and not rush off back to school. She had come to spend the weekend with me, like she does most times. She had to go back to school for Monday morning lectures, and I will be alone again until another two weeks or so.
I rushed through the morning headlines with my phone, and read about the first lady’s speech about ending teenage pregnancy and educating the girl child.

The headline struck me and I had to read the full speech. It was a nice speech, articulate and full of bright ideas and solutions. It addressed the problems of the girl-child; kicking against teenage pregnancy. The article tried to discourage teenage s*x, highlighting the dangers therein.

But I noticed something was amidst; either ignorantly or knowingly – the teenage girl was painted as being venerable, naïve and pliable. I believe the article seek to address girls within the age limit of thirteen to nineteen; these are the teenage girls, most of which are still at senior secondary schools, while some are either trying to gain admission into the higher institutes or are freshers at higher institutes.

Reading the article that morning, I began to see areas where the article erred and where it needed amendment.

Either the media and publicity crew of the first lady were myopic, or they were trying so hard to pass out a wrong message. They made the teenage girl look innocent and naïve; like they were victims of a harsh machismo. The truth, as it was not represented on that speech was that most of these teenage girls are eager to experiment with sx. They are far more exposed than we would want to agree. Some of them have engaged in so much sx-capades that the experience they’ve garnered from such adventures will make a full-grown adult blush.

As I read through her speech that morning, I recalled my experience with a teenager; not just one teenager, but two.

The crazy things we do! I thought to myself.

There are stuffs I wasn’t proud of, there are those I would love to erase totally. Inasmuch as I felt it was wrong, it was one of the most memorable s*x-capade I’ve had.
Not-too-long Ago. . .

I came across a lot of teenagers during my service year. I was doing a part time with an all Girl’s secondary school, and I was teaching their senior students Further Maths and Technical Drawing. I saw it as normal when the girls became close to me. The principal had earlier explained to me that the school had found it difficult to get a F/maths teacher ever since the last corper finished his service year. The students were very willing to learn, and soon, I developed a cordial relationship with them. I ensured I maintained the relationship at a cordial level, but it seems it was an impossible deal. Staying alone at the science lab where I used as my office, the students gather around me using one pretense or the other; mostly for me to help solve one problem or the other for them in relation to their studies. When the cordial relationship I had with them started becoming an object of controversy as most of them skipped classes just to stay with me at the lab, I started removing myself from them. I relocated my office to the staff room and came to the lab only when it was time for my classes.

But I had already built a strong rapport with the head girl; Omore. She was almost the prettiest in the school; and she was the principal’s daughter; and the head-girl of the school.

I have a weakness for smart and intelligent girls, this was how I became endeared to Omore. She asked intelligent questions, she hardly misuses her time. She’s always bringing one case or problem for me to help her solve, either in mathematics, physics, chemistry, f/maths and other sciences; except Biology of course, which was my worst subject.

Even while I relocated to the staff room, Omore didn’t decline in coming to my corner, with calculator, textbooks and jotter. Of course the teachers spied on us, but soon lost interest as it was crystal clear that we were solving problems.

When the teacher, whose desk and corner I was occupying temporarily at the staff room returned from her maternity leave, it was imminent that I had to return to the lab. Returning to the lab made the students to start coming closer to me once more, but this time around, I was stricter.

I told some of them off and told them to come only on break time. But it was almost impossible to stay away from Omore. After I had returned to the lab, we started staying together more often.

Other students wondered why I don’t tell her off the way I used to do to them, and soon, it was concluded that I was her boyfriend, and they let us be; all of them but one; Sandra Ekhana!

Sandra was an arts students so she normally doesn’t have a reason to be at the lab. I took notice of her during the march-pass rehearsals for the October 1st independence day march-pass. We, the corpers at the school were given the mandate to train the school’s marching team and prep them for the upcoming event. So we did our rehearsals during break time. She was the head of the marching team, and was good at it; so I made her the commander.

Sandra looked a bit older than her mates. She had well-advanced features; full bossoms, round hips, big thighs that you can almost see her stretch marks at a glance. She was very direct in speech and acts a lot matured. I noticed something about her too; she was sexually active; very active!

It wasn’t rocket science. After few days of being familiar at the marching ground, we became a bit closer. She started coming to the lab once in a while; and most times, would demand that I buy things for her for the break.

Omore noticed the new enemy encroaching into her territory and decided to protect her territory from the alien intruder. One afternoon, she told me some things about Sandra; things I didn’t find hard to believe; things I had noticed earlier.
“Sandra is a sl.ut.” she told me one afternoon.

I pretended to be surprised at this. I knew Sandra was sexually active, but didn’t believe she was a s*x-freak; I believed Omore was just exaggerating issues.
“She sleeps with guys in town. I even heard that those mallams beside the mosque sleeps with her.” She said. It was obvious she was trying hard to paint Sandra in a bad light. In her innocent mind, exposing those flirtatious attitudes of her rival will make me abhor her; she was wrong.

Her expository remarks of Sandra made me more keen to get a piece of action.
“I also heard she sleeps with two guys at the same time, and uses her mouth on them. . .” she said, blushing at the comments she just made.

She couldn’t garner the courage to use the word “blow-j.o.b”.
Her comments about Sandra did not discourage me from her, rather, it made me excited whenever I saw Sandra; that was how my evil mind started making fantasies; wondering how it will be to get a piece of her ar’se.

My emotions must have betrayed me one of such days as I sat talking with Sandra. I was so lost in my fantasies, staring blankly on her bossoms, wondering how it will be when those uniforms are let loose; I could almost see the hard Tips thru the clothes like my eyes were fitted with x-rays.

She noticed what was happening. It was easy for her as my dckkk was already pushing hard on my jean trousers. When, all of a sudden I got a hold of myself, I saw her staring down on the thick bulge in-between my legs. I used the text book to cover the bulge, out of reflex and she laughed. I was embarrassed, but didn’t try to cover my shame. I gradually removed the text book as she rested her eyes once more on the bulge on my trousers, using one hand to cover her mouth in mockery, like she was about screaming.
“Woww!!!” she exclaimed.
“What?” I asked smiling.
“It looks huge!” she said, then started laughing.
“Uncle we have furthermaths!!” The ss1 class captain called from the window. I didn’t know it was time for end of break. Ss1 students were not allowed into the lab, so I taught them in their class. I told the captain I was coming and she left.

I needed to arrange my dkk before it embarrasses me further.
“Oya! Bad girl! Go back to your class!” I said to Sandra as she continued her laughter.
“You need to poor cold water on it!” she teased me. I reached for my cain and she ran to her classroom. . .

When Sandra volunteered to come to my house during the weekend, I agreed.

I didn’t give it a second thought. I had been battling with myself all week after the episode at the lab. Seems my mind was split into two; each opposing the other on the idea of inviting her over. I kept arguing with myself over the week, trying hard to resist the temptation of inviting her over. Deep down in me, I felt it was wrong, although my spirit was willing, the flesh was weak; so weak that I feared what I might not stand the temptation. I was right, I couldn’t stand it.

I made a solemn declaration; that I wasn’t going to invite her to my house. I insisted to myself that I was going to stand firm to my decision.

Then she asked, and I said she can come!

Damn me! I thought to myself.

Not your fault, she invited herself, you didn’t.- said the loud voice in my head.

I had to agree with it.

I asked how she was going to make it, since she lived with her parents. She said her cousin schools at the polytechnic, and that she usually spends some days or weekend with her.

The night she was supposed to come, I was not around. I had gone on an impromptu outing with my neighbor and her friends. She had invited me to her birthday which I missed; and to make up for it, I proposed to take her out together with her friends that same evening. So when Sandra called, I was at the joint. I managed to pick the call and told her I wasn’t around.
The next week at school, she told me how disappointed she was. She said she had already perfected her lies and plans and it worked, only for me not to be around.
I didn’t border explaining stuffs for her. I had a bitter experience with my neighbor and her roommate that weekend. I slept with their friend after the outing with them that night, and they wanted to tear the girl apart. It caused a scene and I tried to handle the matter maturely.
After the incidence, I started losing interest in Sandra. She must have noticed it as she stopped coming to me often. I started telling her off and resumed spending quality time with Omore. Finally, the weaker part of me was winning the war; the spirit is becoming stronger than the flesh: Allelujah!!!

Omore knew I was recently close to Sandra. She asked why I was detesting her all of a sudden and I told her I wasn’t detesting Sandra. She looked at me like she doesn’t believe what I told her.
“Its normal for guys to detest girls after sleeping with them.” She said. Her comment caught me off-guard. She actually thought I slept with Sandra and as had dumped her.
“My mum told me that anytime a guy sleeps with you, he takes back his missing rib from you and will have no need for you again.” She said to me, this time around, I was dumbfounded. I wanted to deny sleeping with Sandra but I couldn’t. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Why do guys act like that?” she asked.

I blinked twice in quick succession like something just fell into my eyes. She was really sure I had slept with Sandra.
“Who told you I slept with Sandra?” I finally managed to ask her.
“It’s the gist in the network.” She said to me. By network, she meant the cycle of gossips going around the school. If I and Sandra had made the morning gossip network of the Girls secondary school, there was no way I was going to prove I didn’t do it. They believed in their gossips so much. But I managed to deny the accusation, not that I expected her to believe me, but for the record.

“I didn’t sleep with Sandra.” I told her. “And what your mum told you about guys is just another way of discouraging you from guys and s*x.” I concluded.
“But she is right, look at you and Sandra now. . .”
Oh boy! This was a lost cause! I gave up.
“I will never let any boy treat me like that, I will keep myself to my husband and to my husband alone.” She proclaimed.
“You’re a virgin?” I blurted out. It was a stupid question to ask, after seeing all the signs.
“yes, of course. And I’m keeping myself to my future husband!” she proclaimed, with shoulders high, and a satisfactory smile. Then I said something stupid, more stupid than the previous question.
“Virginity is not dignity, dignity of a woman is in her heart, and not in-between her legs.” I said rudely to her. I was angry, angered by the way she was trying to slant other non-virgins, I wanted to burst her bubble. I should have let her carry on her shoulders high, I should have let her believe in what she believed in. She looked at me like she couldn’t believe her ears; like all she believed to be true had just been proven false by me.
“d..don’t you w.waant to.. to… to marry a ve..vee…virgin?” she stuttered as she asked.
“For what?” I shrugged my shoulders.
“I have better things to do on my honeymoon than nurse a wound from a virgin. I intend to enjoy my honeymoon, not nurse a wound from a virgin who had become sore.”I said and walked away from the lab, leaving her staring blankly on the desk.

When she met me the following day, she looked sober. After minutes of light talks, I asked what was bordering her. She chewed her pen for some minutes before opening up to me.
“I want to lose my virginity. . .”

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