…And the stranger begged me to touch his manhood (5)

These are the strangest perverts you’re ever likely going to come across. They are queers. They are strange. They are completely out of this world.

I once met such a guy in a commercial bus.

Yes, I know that for those of you who have been following me for years, you’ve heard this story a million time.

But hey, give me a break! I love telling it.

Hold on, you’re jumping ahead of me in the story. Nay, he didn’t try any monkey business in the bus with me. This is why I said hold and pay attention.

Who’s telling the story? You or I?

Anyway, he didn’t try anything, but he kept staring at me. Perhaps he found me pretty? Who knows how their dirty minds work and what triggers them off.

I was definitely sure that it couldn’t have been my boobs. I’m not well endowed in that area.

In fact, before my boobs developed to the size of an egg, I was already contemplating visiting a native doctor to tell me why my boobs refused to come when those of my friends were already huge like watermelon and they were already flaunting them.

And when my boobs eventually, reluctantly staggered out, they stopped short of being unnoticed.

But I’m okay with them.

I’m not going to annoy Baba God by cramping my bra with pad.

When we got to Oshodi, I alighted and quickly forgot about the strange guy.

But he didn’t forget me. He followed me.

I didn’t know until I got to Bolande Junction, where they call Brown Street.

If you’ve ever been to Oshodi, you’d know how busy the place is.

People are buying and selling, commercial bus drivers are forever cursing and honking their buses horns.

People are always about. Some people are hurrying to keep appointments, others hurrying to their homes.

I was hurrying to a laboratory to collect a result for my boss.

The strange guy was hurrying to have his manhood grabbed and massaged in a public place. Sicko!

It was a hot day. He stopped me moments after I passed Bolande Junction, into Brown.

He said he had been looking at me in the bus. That I was pretty and could I please touch and caress his manhood for him. He didn’t stutter. He was dead serious.

He was already quite close to me. I’m a short woman, but I could stare straight into his eyes even on stocking feet. He was wearing a cheap looking three piece suit and his trouser had quarrel with the ground and seems unsure whether to cover his legs or stay jumped up.

He has frog eyes that dominated his feature. His shoes were threadbare.

To say I was shocked at his strange request was putting it mildly.

I said no! He begged like his life depended on my massaging his manhood. He even suggested that we should look for a nearby hotel at Oshodi, so that I could do the thing for him.

Before you could Jack Robison! The idiot grabbed my hand, attempting to place it on his crotch.

I furiously snatched my hand and glanced down his crotch.

Jeez! The guy was fully erected and even his cheap suit couldn’t hide the fact that he was as hard as Olumo Rock! I turned tail and ran like the hounds of hell were after me. Crazy man!

Did I remember to tell you guys that he promised to pay me if I could just massage his sugar stick?

Maybe his curse is jerking off in public places or begging strange women to touch his manhood.

Yes O! We have perverts who derive great sexual pleasures in jerking off in public places.

Do you guys still remember the guy in Ilorin I told you about?

Yes! Once he sees a female, he would expertly whip out his candy bar and begin wagging it, until he grows and becomes quite turgid.

People in my neighbourhood were so used to him that they nicknamed him, ‘DokoDoko.”

But I was not used to him. I had never met him until my fateful encounter with him that fateful night. I had never even heard of him. I and my two roommates stayed off campus. They had both travelled to Lagos; I was alone at home that day.

Ilorin is always very hot. Most times, we leave our windows open to catch any flitting breeze.

I was sleeping when I heard a noise. It was coming from the window. Scared, I crept closer. I didn’t see anything.

I was about to turn away, thinking it was my over active imagination, when somebody whispered, ‘hey!’

I peered closer through the net and saw this guy. His trouser was hanging around his hip. He threw his back in apparent enjoyment, and his manhood, already turgid was in his hands and he was playing with it furiously.

He was watching me gleefully and smiling in a satanic way.

I howled in fright. My screams almost shattered the foundation of the building.

I ran out of the apartment.

My screams attracted my neighbours who dashed out from their rooms. I explained the strange encounter, with the strange guy and they all started laughing.

They said everyone knew him. That used to do same to every female and could even jerk off if you bother to stay long enough and watch him.

They said he was harmless.

Are you kidding me? How can a prowling rapist be harmless! The guy had just raped me psychologically! My sensitive soul was traumatised.

 Imagine what he would do to a lady, in the dark, if he finds her alone.

There’s another group of perverts who derive orgasm by inflicting pains on their lovers. If they’re on top their babes, they would pummel her until they climax. By the time she crawls out from under him, she would think a trailer ran over her. Women also belong to that group.

I would have loved to tell you about them and others, but I feel I’ve spent too many weeks on these perverts discussion. Let’s discuss something else ojare!

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