Naughty wife talks: My village road

I am not yet done with what I saw on my recent journey to the Eastern Part of this our wonderful country. I plan to divulge all that downloaded itself into my already filled up brain.

I am sort of fixated on the condition of the roads because they affected me greatly. I mean, I am trying to maintain my libido, I do not want any stupid road spoiling things for me.

Today, I am talking about my village road, next time I am going to be doing a piece on Onitsha town. Yeah the old town as you know it.

My village road is the kind of road you need to take a bottle of schnapps at the junction before you climb the motorcycle that would take you to your destination. It was that bad.

The bikes are big and rugged and if you were unlucky to get a fat-arsed biker as your transporter then good luck with spreading your thighs to the limit.

In fact, by the time the motorcycle climbs in and out of all the water-logged holes on the thing called road, you are clutching the bike man with everything you’ve got on your front axis: from your breasts to your cunt.

I think I lost my innocence on those trips. I was trying not to rub my down-below on the bike man with my legs spread wide, clutching the bike for dear life and trying not to fall into one of the ditches. If I were a virgin, I would have lost it on that bike that day. You actually get screwed going to the village without knowing it.

I still don’t understand why I had to pay the guy.

I got bounced on the seat of the bike a thousand times, my arse felt as if stuffed with stones.

These bikers are tough, they must have iron balls by now for plying that road many times a day. How do they reproduce?

And these dare-devil bikers actually haul along these roads three to four passengers at a time, including loads and they hardly fall no matter the condition, in rain or sunshine. These guys have stone for hearts. Fearless.

So, I chose handsome ones if I was going to be doing some clutching and holding and…whatever you do when trying not to fall off a bike on a dangerous slippery road.

I actually rode on one in the rain. I thought I would die. In fact as the rain poured, I no longer cared whatever body part I was using to hold on to the bike. I had my eyes closed tight and praying in tongues. I also reserved some time to abuse the government roundly. I howled curses at whoever was responsible for this broad daylight rape.

When it was time for me to leave, I fortified my resolve with a gallon of palm wine. I wasn’t gonna face that trip sober. My husband rode behind me and I was worried for his nuts. No wonder he gets plastered anytime he comes to my village.

And I also wonder if truly we have a government.

Ripples… without borders, without fears

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