Udeme Junior, Chris Rock, Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer…your average man

Like his father Udeme Junior (Jnr) was a great man, but unlike his dad it wasn’t flying planes and drinking Guinness stout that did it for him, it was sex. To him it was just as normal a pattern formed by drops of greatness as any other could be and as such once he was on he had to be on. Nothing in his thinking came close to an orgasm, not even Nigeria winning the FIFA World Cup beating England, Ghana and Brazil along the way.

When it came to sex he liked it the easy way; with prostitutes (a.k.a. ashewos, ashawos, ashis). A major pro for the addiction being the large variety of options available to choose from and its programmability. And so when he bothered to care he was always left bewildered how the monogamous oriented managed.

He relished the scoping (observatory) ritual before the pounce where he would check out the stats of the ashis with the term well-proportioned as the benchmark. Flirtatiousness, sassiness and willingness to engage in small personal talk also racked up points for a girl in his books but loud mouthedness was a definite no-no.

Another stat that had become important to Udeme Jnr was that majority of the ashis he came across were of Igbo origin. A finding similarly obtainable in a lot of other amateur demographical research he had done. Once again he was left bewildered, pondering the reliability of the census system.

But tribe aside he had discovered that for all ashis pleasure servicing was just as normal a job as any other like bus driving or journalism. And staying true as typical Nigerians he’d come to understand that most of them were unfit to hold on to their titles. The rare breed that loved and mastered the art were hard to come by but when you did find them they left you feeling fulfilled like Cyprian Ekwensi’s Jaguar Nana for they were masters of the bed whether in faking or not.

Sadly though there was no redemption for his buddies as everyone exploited and looked down on them. They had to pay all sorts of bills and take care of all sorts of minor to major expenses. No real friendships were formed as the only relationships they built, with marketers and randy men were never unconditional. Daily life for them was a vicious cycle of smoking, drinking, fucking, dancing and mouth running. That being not much of a surprise considering the fact that most of them were school drop outs. Of course there was always the option of the higher class better-learned prostitutes in bars and on the streets to choose from but somehow Udeme Jnr had found himself more of a brothel monger.

The brothels were often a long narrow row of small rooms with the goods being displayed in front illuminated by red lights. Entering one Udeme Jnr observed the usual: a small bed, a small window and feminine interior decorating. Depending on the worth of the ashi the room might have also boasted of a fan, radio or TV. Taking off his clothes the instruction by the ashi that he should hang them on the wall nailings embarrassed him but soon the rush of blood to his dick enveloped him as she expertly wore him a condom as dexterously as a blind village woman peeling egusi/melon seeds.

It was time for the business, missionary position front assumed she guided his dick to her lubricant filled vagina and Udeme Jnr was resolved to pump away having not being encouraged to breast suck or engage in meaningless foreplay. Reading her mind she probably didn’t have time to waste and would exploit any chance presented to her to get her money without rendering full services.

The deed being done she cleaned his dick up with some tissue, the touch of her hands on his privates teasing him in an uneasy way making him reminisce about the crazy girl with the foul smelling cunt he fucked last week who kept pushing him for more when he had just about had enough. While he dressed up clumsily She flinged the evidence into a small basket at the side of her bed and prepared to freshen up for the next client.

He paid and bade her a quiet farewell at the same time thinking of how generously he would have tipped her had the sex been better. The guilt feeling came upon him but he consoled himself with the words “it’s just sex” and a silent prayer to drop the habit and keep the STIs away.