The Shack Coupling

....for the first time in months, I felt wetness on my face. Those memories surfaced. It tickled my cheeks. The taste of my infidelity, many years ago. My husband never knew what happened. I do not blame him. This is what happened, years ago. I have grown from it. We have had a more satisfying relationship since the shack incident. God knows.

October 15, 2015.

The shack hummed with desire; both savage and conflicted. Oga Eugene probed her wetness, alternating between a finger, then two.. She gasped when three of his fingers were in her, and clutched his bare sweaty back tighter. This wasn't what she, even in a dozen lifetimes, would see herself doing - fingered in a shack. A whole Nnedi, socialite and wife of one of the most eminent accountants in town. But her pretty high-class self had little semblance of control now, especially as Oga Eugene's once despicable - looking belly pinned her to the wall, while his fingers did wonders deep in her sex. She choked back another moan.

" E mekwala mkpotu ebe a o. Be quiet "

Nnedi nodded in between tingles of pleasure and buried her mouth on the salty skin of his neck. Her legs wrapped itself around Eugene's near naked buttocks.

The mechanic, after his activity of should have no business with a bulging phalus. But the human body is a strange thing, especially that of a potbellied Ngwa man who ate utara and ede in the mornings and evenings, and drank satchets and satchets of MANPOWER BITTERS drink and cups of agbo jedi every day. His manhood was bigger than Paul's, and its recovery time - judging by the way it pressed on Nnedi's ass - was impressive.

His index finger touched a spot that sent ripples of pleasure arching up her spinal column. She let out a small cry and clung to him more. Bliss threatened to shred the last bit of commonsense in her head. Never had she felt this need since that day three years ago. This urge to free all inhibitions and become an animal, momentarily atleast. His salty, greasy skin sent a tickle down her tongue as he began a rhythmic dance with his fingers, his grunts meshed with her stifled moans and voiceless surprise, as more pressure accumulated down there.

Then, it all exploded. She felt her being stiffen, a sudden rush of dopamine, then her eyes rolled back into her sockets. She cried as she hung, then descended from that alternate dimension of white clouds and fluttering sensations.

" Shhhhh. " He grunted forcefully, as he lowered her down on her feet, his fingers still in her, and her hand locked around his neck. Nnedi's knees threatened to buckle, but Oga Eugene steadied her with his belly. The fold of flesh that pressed over her belly was wet and strangely comforting , unlike her husband Paul's wiry body frame. She felt like a kid under the comfy embrace of an obese uncle. In that moment, she wished a crazy thought.

She panted. He grunted.

Then reality broke in as the euphoria slithered out of the shack. She pushed him back forcefully with a sudden strength that was absent just seconds ago.

" Get away from me, you animal! "

Oga Eugene merely stared at her like a parent would to a stupid kid. He had claimed this victory - he knew. It was only expected that she would have doubts on the act. But he knew a way around her indecisiveness; that was why he was called Oga Eugene umu nwanyi - Oga Eugene of the Ladies. Despite the disgust plastered on her noble face, he knew he had claimed this one. It only remained one final rite.

" Jesus. What have I allowed myself do? " Nnedi cried in panic as she brushed down her skirts hurriedly. " Stay away from me, you animal. "

Oga Eugene gave a small chuckle. 

" I'm an animal, alright. But wait until I tell your oga what happened here, how you dey try seduce me. Thank god say I get witnesses. " He laughed evilly.

" Y-You c-cant. Devil! "

His chuckle morphed to a low growl: " Don't try me. ". 

She glared at him, but couldn't sustain the venom. Not after what just happened moments ago. Her lower belly had ecstatic butterflies in them. She placed a palm over it, as if to calm them. It didn't help. Her tongue still tasted of salt, and a slight tremor shook her sex.

The mechanic studied her in the dark of the shack. Her confusion was understandable. She might detest him but she definitely was a woman starved of male attention and intention. Her aka-gum miser of a husband, Paul, clearly was not up to the responsibility of satisfying her desires, and guessing by her conflictions, it could be deduced that she was the type that preferred self-pleasuring than making a fuss about a non-active partner .

He rued that he had to do this to her, here. This woman was not as open as Margaret the food hawker. Margaret knew what she wanted - and she always got it. This one would need cajoling. He would make her willing. Anything in order to hear this haughty lady cry out his name, in pleasure, and satisfaction - he would do.

The thought of her husband out there while he smashed the living hell out of her made something swell in his chest, and between his legs. Her husband was an educated mumu, a fool; penny wise, wife foolish.

* * * *

Paul got down from the keke tricycle, angrier than he was when he left the mechanic workshop. His buttocks ached, the inner of his right nostrils itched, the black Bagco bag weighed him down at every step, and he felt at the receiving end of a conspiracy that had started that morning. 

He had been annoyed when that mechanic with a belly like that of a five months old pregnant woman had insisted on five thousand naira for the carburettor. Nothing more or less. Who in the entire country, that wasn't a politician or all these yahoo yahoo/fraud boys, ever bought something without bargaining ?

The big bellied fool even had the gall to suggest a certain Chukwudi go buy the equipment. Like it wasn't the same head and ten fingers and two akpa- amu ( testicles) that they both had. As if he was a JJC - a dumb; so Chukwudi would add his cut, then that of the afo-beer/big belly that brought him into the business, then transport cost - all in one piece of machinery that its true price might not be up to two thousand five hundred naira.

He spat on the floor. Chukwudi and Afo-Beer should get out. He would go to the Spare Parts Market to buy the carburettor himself. Nobody was going to rip him off, especially not in broad daylight. And even if he was to be ripped off, God forbid it happened to him at the hands of uncultured mechanics who knew little about accounting and the flow of money like he did.

The first shop he had gone to insisted on four thousand naira, and so he had left, frowning. Another said four thousand five hundred, and Paul had given the guy a very angry look which resulted in the guy hissing in return, and Paul calling him ewu/goat, and the guy swearing that a wheelbarrow must break both his tiny miserly legs.

 As he transversed the entire market, bargaining, he got different prices; the average was about four thousand naira, and a few ridiculous ones at two thousand and five thousand naira and six thousand naira respectively. After about thirty minutes of inhaling the dust and body odours and enduring the clanging of metal and jumble of voices, he finally bought it for three thousand eight hundred naira from a boy who did not look older than 20 but had an acute case of albinism. His eyes looked honest and transparent with red spots dotting his face, as he assured Paul of the high grade of the carburettor. 

  But, at the gate outside, some guys in light green aprons with TaskForce emblazoned on its front and back stopped him, and demanded he settled them in order to leave. He had started to argue, but his better sense came to the rescue and he gave them five hundred for their troubles. No need for an unnecessary war of words when the odds was not in his favour. But he still felt angry.

Then he had to sit for close to an hour in the back seat of this keke/tricycle, cramped, because the traffic was terrible and his fellow co-passengers had big shoulders and buttocks.

Now all over ached.

He quickened his step toward the site, passed where he had parked his car and moved towards the shack from earlier. A small group of mechanics were lazing around passing about an ugly small football. One of them looked up as he approached and made for him. It was the one called Chukwudi. Paul slowed his step, and wondered where his wife was now.

" You done come back? "

Paul nodded stiffly at Chukwudi's question. " Where's my wife? "

" Oh, s-she talk say she wan piss, so we come direct am to the toilet wey dey the bank there. " He answered, pointing to the direction of a bank which building could be seen with the Access Bank logo. " But ehn, how much you buy am? How much did you buy it?"

Paul brough out his phone and dialled Nnedi's number. It rang.

" How much you come later buy am, Oga? " Asked Chukwudi again, as he scratched the base of his jaw.

" 3,5. " Paul bblied. Nnedi's number was still ringing. He glanced around. " Where's that your oga - the one with the big belly, eh?

" He went out."

" He thinks I am a JJC, that I am new in this town. Just because I am speaking clean English he thinks I am one of those money-miss-road. Where is he? "

Chukwudi chuckled nervously. " Im comot. But im go soon come back. Make I see wetin you buy. Let me know whether you got the original carburettor. Them fit done give you low-grade tell you say na first-grade - all these mgbuka spare parts people. Terrible crooks. Ejirokwa anya ebere eme business ha o. They don't joke with their gains. Chere, wait, let me find a seat for you"

Paul scoffed silently. Why was Nnedi not picking? If she was at the bank as this guy had said why was she not answering. 

Chukwudi soon returned with two empty plastic crates. Paul sat on one and handed the Bagco bag to him. Chukwudi took it, and pulled out the carburettor, smiling, nodding.

" Is it not it? "

" Na im o. This is the original. Haba, e be like say you done sell spare parts before, Oga anyi ? "

Paul didn't know when a smile broke out on his lips. This guy was likable, unlike the potbellied one. There was this air or familiarity around him and his smile and antics seemed genuine. He heard a noise.

" Who is in that shack? I'm hearing noises. "

" That place na our parking store, Tobe na arrange ife there. Tobe dey sell spanner and nut. Im dey arrange in 8m goods there. " Explained Chukwudi smoothly.

" Are you sure my wife haven't left for home? "

" Mbanu, Oga. Osi ka Oga nyuo amiri na bank ahu. Obere oge o ga-aputa. Just nwere ya, obere ndidi. "

And so, Paul waited.

* * *

" Gee nti, madam. Di gi aputago. Your husband done come back. "

Nnedi stood up. 

" Na now or never. Make I give you something wet you go take remember me. "

Nnedi shook her head, a bit disgusted that she wasn't adequately angry at the words this man was saying. Her body was failing her. The need of earlier had returned, arrogantly. He had spent the past few minutes doing his best impression of wooing. His words were brutal rather than seductive, but they hung in the little spaces in her head. It was like he was using a charm on her. Like all those do-as-i-say charms in nollywood home videos. And she was falling, and annoyed at her self for falling.

Oga Eugene moved close to her. This time she didn't pull back. The thought of Paul outside should have snapped her out of of this reverie, but instead it emboldened her; making her adventurous. He placed an arm on her shoulder.

" Bend, nne. I'll be quick. "

What would she lose if she succumbed? Paul had always cheated in the years before they got married, and she suspected that he still did, and that that was the reason why he always was apathetic whenever she tried to have sex with him. She wouldn't be the first woman to do this. Margaret, the woman from earlier, must have a husband waiting for her at home. But she still took pleasure from outside when she needed it. Many men also did the same without batting an eyelid. It was always women like her that suffered because of the illusion of civility that they felt bound to maintain. Women that have been indoctrinated that only men should cheat. Why couldn't she, atleast, for once, do this.

" Ngwanu now, nne. It is now or never. A gam eji nwayo. I'll be gentle "

He promised to be gentle. He did. Paul never promised such. He only climbed on top of her on those blue moon days and was down less than a minute later. Violent, then slumped over As if child was made with force and that quick Perhaps, this Oga Eugene would be different. Who knows. Margaret did. Nnedi Amankwo also could gain that knowledge if she wanted. All she had to do was bend, and pull up her skirt, and pants. 

" Put your handkerchief in your mouth. " He whispered hoarsely as she stood.

" Do you have protection? "

" I thought you wanted a baby. "

" Yes, I do. Just not yours. "

 She rested her hand on the wall, then she bent. Her skirt was raised. He grabbed her left breast, bit her on the neck. She could change her mind now. But the resolve wasn't strong. It never was. Not as sttong as his shaft as it pressed on her buttocks cheeks. His fingers entered her first, and she trembled wordlessly. The handkerchief was helping. Her mind was racing. This was it. There was no going back now.

Then his schlong slid in her wetness. And Nnedi Amankwo knew heaven could come on earth, manifesting even in the most dirtiest of shacks. And giving reality to her base desires.