She would always look lustfully at my busty breasts and squeeze my big butts whenever we crossed paths. She treated me better than she did my siblings, and made sure I got the biggest portion of anything shared in the house. She knew how to pet me while caressing my fully grown assets in the process.
I was just a girl of fourteen, an overgrown fourteen year old. Looking at me, you’d think I was nineteen or more. Most times, she undressed in front of me and made me touch her boobs. Gradually, she introduced me to her world. I enjoyed every bit of it. There was nothing more pleasurable. The way she handled me, the mild fondles she gave me were epic.
It all started with the talks and laughter. While on her laps, we would talk about everything and laugh until our cheeks hurt. She always made sure she placed her hands on one of my breasts or vagina, rubbing them as we talked, but I didn’t mind. She was our house help. Mum always saw her carrying me and said nothing. So, I assumed it was fine.
One day, when mother was away and Emma was asleep, she sent Mma to our neighbour’s, went to her bag, got a CD and made me watch an erotic movie. We watched the film while sitting very close to each other. Still in the middle, she made me face her, her whole body taut and trembling. She began kissing me. She sucked my tongue and lips vigorously like she would swallow them. From my lips, she went to my boobs and sucked them like never before. She made my body turgid. She gave me feelings I loved. I wanted more. I cared about nothing more than to fulfill the desire that was threatening to set me ablaze.
I returned the kisses and watched her insert a finger into my vagina. Her thrusts were slow but gradually, she intensified the rhythm. I couldn’t help moaning noisily. My juices poured continuously and each time, she licked them off like her stomach was their resting place. That was my first visit to cloud nine. She finally flew me to space by using her tongue on my openings. She called it a head and made me return it. She too moaned loudly to show she enjoyed it. She went over on me again. This time, I was moved to holding her head to prevent her from ever wanting to come out. I screamed her name throughout the process. The pleasure was a killer.
This continued for years, whenever we got the chance to be alone. If none came, I created it by sending my siblings out myself to our neighbour’s, the market, just anywhere, as long as they wouldn’t come back until Aunty Nkechi satisfied me. Most times, I begged her for it. While on it, we smacked each other’s butts and pulled our hairs. It didn’t hurt. It was part of the fun, I believed. I became addicted. Aunty Nkechi who got tired of my constant disturbance taught me how to use dildos instead. I couldn’t stop. I introduced my others friends to it.
Now, at 45, I feel I’ve missed out on more important things about life. I feel unfulfilled as a woman. My society shuns lesbianism, so I pleasure myself in secret. I can’t have a man. I wish to have all that other women do, but my addiction and mindset limit my desires. Aunty Nkechi died of HIV and I’m very scared for myself. I want to get married and have children but my relationships with the opposite sex keep failing. On top of any woman, I act possessed. I don’t stop until I there’s no more space in my body left to be filled with pleasure. To make matter worse, I use very young girls too, just like Aunty Nkechi did to me.
I wish I hadn’t met Aunty Nkechi; I wish my mother had been more observant. If she had, I would be living the life I dreamt as a child.
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