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I Would Do Anything To Have S33x With My Father Again – Lagos Girl Open Up

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I didn’t cry. It was painful what he did, but I didn’t cry. He said it was okay.

I didn’t cry the second time either. I liked it. He was gentler. He told me it was our secret, our special thing, and no one should know about it.

I went to him the third time it happened, it was raining and the thunders scared me. We did it again, I enjoyed it. We began to do it more often, and each time I enjoyed it more.
I was twelve that first time, and a happy child, happier than any other child I knew. I doubt if any other child had so much love. I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect.
And then, on my twentieth birthday, the unthinkable happened.
My father broke up with me. Just like that. He said it wasn’t right, what we do, and that we must stop. End of matter. It felt like a full stop at the end of an epitaph. It was too sudden.
I had no warning, no premonition. The break up was like death. I had taken the week off from school just to be with the only man in my life, the best man I ever knew, or so I thought. I thought my birthday would have ended sensually, like all the others. It was usually the best birthday present he gave me, a passionate night of love making right out of a romance novel.
It had been a while. My higher education had taken me away. And I sorely missed my beloved father. I went home that day with thoughts of my father obscuring all other thoughts. I arrived late in the evening. He wasn’t home yet. I made myself as adorable as he liked. It was not hard. My allure had never needed much artificial furnishings; a touch here and a touch there, and I would be set to win any beauty contest. That evening I was at my best.
All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me.
Instead, I got the shock of my life. That terrible day, I knew exactly how the Deer must feel when the hunter’s bullet crashes through its heart. I learnt how it must feel to be shot out of the sky.
I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible.

I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father.
But this was no punishment. This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I told him of our joys, our laughs and how love couldn’t be any better. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child.

 

The man was like a stone.
It is true what they say. Men are beasts; unfeeling beasts.
How could he end something so wonderful, something so perfect? He said he still loved me, but I didn’t believe him, I couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said it. There must have been a reason, but I didn’t care for whatever it was. I knew it wasn’t about right or wrong, there is no love that can be wrong, especially the kind we had. It was beautiful; we were one, my father and I. Our love transcended that of a father and his daughter. It was the stuff of heaven. No, His reason wasn’t religious, not at all, my father wasn’t that sentimental. I was his sole religion, he worshiped me.
There was no one else either, I knew that much. My mother died while birthing me. Ever since, I had been my father’s heartbeat. And he was my breath. I never missed my mother. I never knew her, never would meet her. I would, perhaps, have liked to know her, but somehow I thank God she wasn’t with us. It would have been awkward. I don’t think I could have shared my father with any one.
My father gave no reason for killing me. He couldn’t explain why we could no longer have what we had. There was nothing I didn’t think, there was no thought I didn’t wish to explain his decision by. Something, perhaps, must have happened to his hormones. I couldn’t believe this was my perfect father. I couldn’t believe my day could ever become so dark.
He only said he was doing it for me, that it was for the best, my best. How could I have ever believed the man loved me? He even looked sad that day, so sorrowful and tired. In better times and in our previous world, I would have taken him in my arms as I was wont, and work my magic on him. Over the years I had learnt his special recipe. I was the only one who knew his mix. I had never asked him, but I sensed that even my mother didn’t take him to the heights I took him.
But his words belied the sorrow on his features. He had said the break up words so casually, so matter of factly, as if he had thought it through and found it a simple matter. There should be a special kind of voice and words for pronouncements of that nature, something equal and suitably terrible. The normalcy and casualness of his words were a negation. It was like mockery. I didn’t know I could ever stop being what I was to him; I had never thought our relationship would end. But end it did, and in so shocking a manner. Good things shouldn’t end that abruptly. Relationships don’t die at once. Death is not a casual occurrence.
The most painful part of it was that I didn’t die. I felt like dying. I wanted to die. But I didn’t know how to go about it. I should have killed him too; I should have hurt him too. He looked like he was hurting, but I should have made sure. It is too painful to feel the pain of death and yet be alive. There is no pain worse than the pain of death.
And then, the man wanted us to be Father and Daughter, just father and daughter. I couldn’t understand why he would want to reduce our love to something merely biological and normal. Why on earth couldn’t he see that I could never be happy as just his daughter, and that I could never be remotely happy with any other arrangement? We were happy, I made him happy. Why do some people reject their own happiness?
For a long time I had believed my father loved me. On my twentiethbirthday, I knew the truth. That day was my awakening to the heartlessness of men, and the absurdity of love. That day, I grew up, I grew old and I died.
It was the last day I spoke or saw my father. He killed me, so I made sure I remained dead to him. I became a living dead, dead inside and alive only in looks.
As I left him that evening, I looked back a lot of times. He didn’t recant, he didn’t rethink. He watched me leave. The tears were streaming from both our eyelids. I could feel his sorrow; it was thick enough to touch. The feeling was apt; death had occurred.
The man came for me twice, later. But he came as a father coming for his daughter. He should have come for me as a soul for its soul mate, like breath for air, like the dying for life. That was what we were; romance and its love.
He came, just that twice. I waited for him too, but he never came again. I gave up.
I made a new resolve. Men would learn from me, the very hard way. I have what they want. My beauty is the glaring kind that every body agrees with. But my heart would be a different matter. I knew most men wouldn’t resist me; they can’t be as tough as my father, my looks were not enough for that man to change his mind and do the right thing, the best thing.
It wasn’t easy. It took a while before I could stand the touch of any other man, but vengeance helped me detach my body from myself.
I would forever be grateful for my looks; it was my ultimate shield. It helped me survive and helped my resolve. I set off on a mission, to hurt as I had been hurt. I soon became very successful. I brought both boys and men to their knees. I killed them and still left them alive. I remember the families that fought themselves over me, the brothers that would never forgive each other, the scandalized churches and governments, the suicides, the bankruptcies. There is a lot a body can do when it is rightly motivated.
My father didn’t know what he unleashed.
Payback is a beautiful side of nature. There is no payback as sweet and profound as when it’s total and final, like death. No man recovered that encountered me.
But vengeance was not so much fun. I didn’t feel any lasting relief. Hurting men didn’t make me feel much better; it was a constant reminder to my own heartbreak. But I couldn’t stop. Sometimes I wondered what the whole point was. I could never lose the pangs I had for my father’s touch. Payback did not completely fill the chasm that my father dug in me. I doubt if anything ever would.
I would have easily given everything up for things to get back to what it was.
I lived like someone on a mission, and I wanted to be free from the service, but I just couldn’t. In moments of weakness, I would always think about what my father and I had. Thinking about our perfect love brought me tears and gave me joy. At such moments, I would really try to feel and have fun, I would let my guard down to see if I would be alive again. It was no use. No other man was like my father. No one even came close. No one was able to get me right, something was always missing. With my dad it was perfect, he knew just what I wanted, and how. No two people were ever in sync as my father and I was. No other man could bring me alive.
The last time I had pleasure was with my father.
This many years have past, since I lost my beloved father. And more recently the world lost him too. I just left his grave side. I have never been able to understand why I keep visiting his grave, despite the distance, despite all. And each time, I always leave with an exhausting longing, a fiery desire, and an intense craving.
I would do anything; anything, just to have s333x with my father again.

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DJ Cuppy issues a message to all her exes

DJ Cuppy

Nigerian DJ and Billionaire Businessman, Otedola’s daughter, DJ Cuppy has taken to Instagram to share a message to her exes, a move many have interpreted as ‘we’re never getting back together’.

DJ Cuppy who held a glass of champagne in the photo she shared, wrote;

dinsta

“Dear Exes, You Used To Be My Cup Of Tea… But I Drink Champagne Now!  #CuppyOnAMission”

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“How my husband raped my best friend” – Woman tells shocking story

An angry woman has told the shocking story of how her husband was found out to have r*ped her own best friend in his home.

The woman, identified as Rukayat, told the story in a letter she sent to Vanguard.

Below is how she told the story:

“I was fresh out of the university when I found myself pregnant at age 22. I didn’t want to get married, but my boyfriend then was 30 years old and persuaded me we should get married for the child’s sake.

“The marriage turned out to be a nightmare as he became controlling and violent. I endured his abuse for 15 years and with three children, I finally found the courage to leave him – thanks to my best friend’s encouragement.

“I was to finally go to the house to collect the rest of my things and my friend agreed to go with me for moral support. Unfortunately, she arrived before I got there. My husband was in, in spite of his telling me he wouldn’t be around.

“He invited my friend in to wait for me and attacked her almost immediately, raping her in the process. When I eventually turned up, we both went to the police and got him arrested. Later, relatives and friends convinced us to drop the charges because of the children.

“My friend never spoke to me again and as soon as she could, she got transferred to another state. If I’d left my ex sooner, my friend might never have gone through the nasty experience of being violated. I blame myself for the trauma she went through.”

Rukayat got a reply after her story was read. Below is the reply:

“Dear Rukayat,

“I’m sorry for what happened to your best friend and it is sad you were unable to be reconciled before she relocated.

“Please know that what happened to her was not your doing. You are a victim just as she was and you need support in realising this.

“You did the best you could by reporting the incident. You’ve lost your best friend as well as your marriage.

“You need counselling to get over your losses and make the most of your life as the single parent you now are.”

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“I’m having s*x with my mother-in-law and it’s amazing” – Man confesses

I’m having an incredible and explosive s*xual affair with my mum-in-law, and the s*x is so amazing and I can’t stop…man shares the story online.

A young man has written to a popular s*x and relationship therapist, Deidre, who is also a columnist for The Sun UK newspaper about his addiction to s*xual intercourse with his mother-in-law after an explosive bonking one afternoon which got him hooked to her honey pot.

Below is his story;

**************************************************

Dear Deidre,

I’m having a secret affair with my mother-in-law. She is almost twice my age and we have fabulous s*x.

I got married three years ago. I’m 26 and my wife is a gorgeous Italian girl. She’s 25. When I first went to her house I couldn’t believe her mum’s age. She is 44.

My then wife-to-be told me, proudly, that all her boyfriends had fancied her mum. It seemed a strange thing to say.

That’s the odd thing about marrying someone from another culture — there’s so much that’s different and strange that I didn’t know what to believe. Her mum owns a restaurant.

It’s a small, classy place and my mother-in-law took it on when my wife’s dad passed away. She’s a very smart woman who knows how to run a good business and still have time off to have fun.

My wife covers for her in the restaurant alternate weekends and that’s when her mother is free to see me.

The first time it happened she came to our house where I was alone with our two-year-old son. She said she was checking that I was behaving myself while my wife was away.

I poured her a drink and she pulled up her skirt while she sat next to me. I caught sight of stockings, all lacy and black. That’s something my wife knows I just can’t resist.

We had a couple more drinks then I couldn’t hold back anymore. We had s*x on the sofa while my son slept upstairs.

This is now quite a regular thing. We’ve progressed from suspenders and stockings to bondage and real kinky stuff like I’ve only ever dreamed of before.

I’ve never had this kind of s*x with anyone else and I know I won’t get it again. The s*x is up there in a league of its own but then so is the guilt.

I know this must stop but my willpower is weak.

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Below is the reply he got from the relationship expert;

Are you asking for advice or boasting about what you have been up to?

You know what to do.

You must tell your mother-in-law that it’s all been amazing but you must stop now or your son and your wife, the two people you should love the most, will get desperately hurt.

Take control of your life and please don’t let your lust get the better of you.

Maybe you’re fooling yourself that your wife wouldn’t mind.

I bet that she would.

How is your s*x life together?

Show her what you like but also focus on her.

Let go of other distractions and start giving your marriage the attention and love it deserves.

My e-leaflet How To Thrill a Woman in Bed can help.

Above all, think of yor son. Do your utmost to give him the calm loving home he deserves.

 

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