How I Lost My Virginity - Excerpt from my novel manuscript

Dusk was falling gradually; and I was out in the streets, on my way home. I can’t remember where I was coming from. All I know is that I was sauntering, home, thinking of the lady who had just broken my heart. She had eloped with an oil worker to God knows where. Then a sudden drizzle met me on the way. Initially, I had thought it was a mere drizzle until it showed a sign it wasn’t. The downpour came suddenly with anger, and everybody in the streets was running helter-skelter. I looked about me, at a loss what to do. I wanted to take shelter in a nearby building to avoid being drenched by the rain; but I wasn’t fast enough. Suddenly everywhere was flooded; a canvas of brown, muddy water the colour of tea. And as I waded through it, a tidal wave was pushing me backward. I looked about me and saw Port High Life Street, a street notorious for its many brothels. I entered it and stopped at a long, unpainted building lined by rooms facing the road. I flung a red curtain aside that stood between me and the unknown and entered a room lit up by a red incandescent bulb. And I was transfixed, as though I had just entered the underworld. Everything about me had taken on a strange red colour, and I realized I was lost. Few seconds passed; I fidgeted, trying to find myself.

‘Welcome,’ a female voice said. That was reassuring. I stood mopping at a squat lady with an impressive chest. Her white bra couldn’t hold her breasts in place; they were struggling to get out of the prison they were in. It seemed some mass of flesh was trying to burst out of the cups. She also wore a white skirt that barely reached her knee. The white shirt looked like amber red in the glow of the red light.  I should say she had an impressive chest and a fabulous behind. Her hips were a spider’s and her behind a mass of protruding flesh. She was Nicki Minaj.

‘I say welcome, customer’ she repeated. Customer? Am I a customer? Has she seen me before? I thought.

It was raining hailstones outside, and the sound of it pattering on the roof was drowning our voices. The sound of the rain pattering on the roof was sexy. It inspired many salacious thoughts.  “Sit down na,” she said holding my crotch, and moaning. ‘Abi you nor wan fuck?’  As she kept fondling my crotch not only did I have a hard on I had a hard time controlling my penis, which was pushing so hard that it was about  bursting out of my trousers,  I needed to let it out of its prison, to free it. I needed to free myself. I needed somebody to free me.