DESIRE by @OgeOsi_ (Osi Ann Ogechi)
I will tell you about those glorious nights I spent at that river. I used to crouch low among the bushes, staring at objects that gave me satisfaction. I was feeding my lust for the natives. It was forbidden sexual pleasure, so naturally, it was better than every other pleasure I managed to receive at the time.

My environment did not always cooperate. More often than not, the air was humid and carried the unmistakable stench of human faeces, and the realization that it came from the natives made it seem far worse. There were thorns prickling my flesh, and dreadful mosquitoes stinging in all the wrong places. There was the constant feeling that my actions were demeaning to my soul and insulting to my colleagues and country. I was an English explorer hiding in the bushes to stare at young African girls in the moonlight. It was sinful and provocative, and I loved every minute of it.

I remember there were some perfect nights, perhaps I could call them magical. I had been warned about the spirits in those nights that would make me feel like I was home. They always came with a cool breeze and perfect moonlight, and an orchestra from crickets and squirrels and birds. The mosquitoes and the stench were gone and England seemed like a faraway dream. Everything was beautiful and clear and made sense. You finally understood why you left civilization to chase adventure in this African jungle.

I saw her on the best of those nights, or maybe that night was the best because I had seen her. Either way, I knew it was a remarkable beginning. There was fire in my heart and it moved through my veins to my lungs, and the air I breathed out filled everything with passion.

She was a goddess and I was mere mortal. At that moment, I knew that I would never gaze upon a woman more beautiful. I was mesmerized, how could such gloriousness abide in this place?

I remember everything. Her skin was sculpted with milk, honey and gold and I wanted to reach out and drown in it. She had flesh in all the right places that made a man’s groin suffer. If sex was a metaphor for a human, she was it.

I was a man in agony when I looked into her eyes. It was the most striking thing, it had depth and intelligence. I was conquered right there in the bushes. I offered her my heart and soul. What was once a recreational act became a necessity for me. I was drawn by the allure of bedding this woman by the banks of the river. It became my sole purpose, and the outrageousness of the thought was all forgotten by my brain.

You need to understand how precarious my situation was. If I was caught by my colleagues, I would be executed for frolicking with the natives. My beautiful ebony goddess would be executed. My wife and children in England would be shamed forever. I would be a disgrace to man and God and everything else.

Still, her thighs and breasts and eyes consumed my thoughts daily, and I had no help for the sudden joy I would feel when I thought of kissing her lips. My soul was never satisfied at the thought of bedding her by force. I wanted those eyes to look at me with desire and not fear. I wanted her to scream in ecstasy and deliriousness.

There came a time when everything was slow and the night bore an uneventful tone. It was one of such times that promised nothing exciting, and the only spark in my day was watching my goddess from the bushes. That night she came close to the riverbank and I was too transfixed to notice that I wasn’t properly hidden. Her eyes were feasting on me before long; those eyes that promised adventure and good memories. Those eyes that occupied my thoughts and feasted on my daydreams. Those lovely eyes that silenced all my inner torments and promised me love and sex and heaven. Those eyes stared at me and there was fury in them like I had never seen. I stared back. My eyes were blank where hers were impassioned. My eyes were weak where hers were inflamed.

And then her eyes gave way to that intelligence that had captured my soul. Her eyes softened and she smiled and I nearly died. I knew then that she understood.

We were never going to have earth-shattering sex. We were never touring the galaxies in joint orgasm. But she had looked at me and understood my desires. She had looked at me as man not oppressor, her eyes had suggested possibility. And that was enough for me.

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