Old Habits Die Hard

I forced myself to roll off her, making smacking sounds with my lips as I relived the past five minutes. It was indeed pleasurable. I glanced at her; she lay coiled like a snake, her intermittent whimpers rhyming with my heavy, satisfied breathing. I could tell that she had enjoyed it. You see, when I first did it to her, she had been… well she had been a bit stubborn. She had fought and clawed and scratched at me. But that only made it more enjoyable. I nearly ejaculated just seeing how bravely she fought. In the end, I had crushed her spirit, and when I thrust into her womanly softness, I felt tears of joy and fulfilment slid down my cheeks.

I got up, wanting to leave. I had gotten to the door when I turned and went back and planted a kiss on her swollen and bruised lips. “I enjoyed that round darling. I hope you did?”

Then I left before she could answer. Not that she would anyway; due to my sexual prowess, I usually left her dazed and tired for about an hour or so.

Before you start judging me (as if you’re any better than me), let’s do the introductions. You can call me Adam. It’s not my real name, though. I don’t want you to know it yet, till you prove that you’re worthy to be my friend. Yeah, I’m strange, but I have to protect myself too.

I’m ‘happily’ married with two beautiful girls. And today, the bitch of a wife (pardon my French) went out with my girls for a friend’s birthday party, leaving me with the succulent and delicious fruit of a maid I just plucked for the… I seriously cannot remember the number of times now.

I’ve not always been like this… Okay, no need for lies now. I’ve always loved having rough sex. Right from the first time my uncle forced his manhood into me when I was ten thirty years ago. My parents were dead by then and I was sent to live with him. He had had his way with me so many times that I lost count.

When I was in SS3, I’d read the story of a man who had openly declared that he was gay. According to him, he was repeatedly raped by his teacher while in the hostel as a secondary school student. As a result of that, he had come to prefer sex with men. That story scared me so much because I hated gays and anything to do with them. Don’t ask me why; they are… queer.

I had to have sex with women, the natural order of having sex. But I realised that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t enjoy sex with a willing woman. Believe me I tried, oh I tried to enjoy it, but I couldn’t. By the time I was out of secondary school, I was so scared that I was permanently damaged that I lapsed into a temporary state of depression.

Until she came, my first love. That was my first year in the university. And it was in December of that year. She had come to spend the holiday with us, and immediately I set my eyes on her, I knew that I had to have her, and I had to have her roughly. That was the only way I would enjoy all the sweet, secret pleasures she had. She was twelve then, and she was my cousin. Three days after she came, I crept into her room and made rough love to her.

Hey, don’t scream or cringe please. I beg you, don’t do that. I’m not a bad person, it’s just the way I am wired. After all, all is fair in love and war, right?

I had ‘promised’ to make her life a living hell if she ever told anyone about our sexcapades. And at eighteen, I was scary enough. She stayed for two weeks; that was two weeks of sweet, mind-blowing, spine-tingling rough sex. I think at some point she started enjoying it because after a week she stopped crying whenever I savoured her glorious body. She would just like flat on her back and allow me to explore the riches she had within her.

For the next twenty-five years, I only had sex with unwilling women; but if they were willing, I would devise means to make the sex rough. I would either tie them up, or beat them first before having sex or have anal sex. I didn’t really enjoy the anal sex as it reminded me of what my uncle did to me.

So how did I give birth to my children, my twin girls? I’m sure you must have guessed by now. I had rough sex with my wife too. Okay, it’s not really as simple as that. That was three years after my graduation from the university and I had travelled to the village for Christmas celebrations. The evening I saw her, I was taking a stroll along the village stream when I saw her washing onugbu leaves. The way she was focused on her task and the way her supple body danced to the rhythm of her work sent my body into a frenzy of lust. I knew that I had to have her there and then. And that was what I did. But as fate would have it, one of the nosy villagers saw us. Luckily for me, I’d tasted her sweet nectar and was wearing my trousers when he saw me and rushed with his machete. Of course I had to scram.

In a village such as mine, everybody knew everybody. So it wasn’t hard to find me. That evening she’d come with her parents to see my uncle. Her parents had promised to deal with me after I denied ‘raping’ her. Please, we had consensual rough sex. They had promised to be back with trouble. That night I fled to a friend’s house in the university.

It was a year later that my uncle called me back to the village. He had said it was an important meeting concerning the sharing of my father’s lands. I’d rushed home only to see a woman with a set of twins, who they said was my wife. I’d protested and done all I could, but her parents were bent on making my life a living hell. In the end, I’d married her.

We’ve been married for seventeen years now, and never for once did we have sex. I am hated by wife. She hardly comes back home. And since she has more money than I do, she rented another apartment where she stayed with my girls.

So tell me, how do you expect me not to touch my maid when my wife was denying me my rights as her husband?

Why not share?

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