The Question of the week is for the Ladies!!!!
Which would you rather have?
a man
who cheats on you with another woman or ……..A fleshlight?
think before you answer..........lolzzz
A fleshlight is a pocket
vagina!!!!!!!and its selling!!!
you have 1 week to comment and by next week we will weigh the poll!!!!
fleshlighttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
ReplyDeletewhat if the fleshlight becomes his babe...
ReplyDeletea babe of course!! thats human....a fleshlight is not
ReplyDeleteNone of the above oh.. essien from calabar
ReplyDeleteIf I say flashlight that's gross!
ReplyDeleteIf I say flashlight that's gross!
ReplyDeleteNone of the above oh.. essien from calabar
ReplyDeleteErrmmmm, a flashlight I guess
ReplyDeleteErrmmmm, a flashlight I guess
ReplyDeleteHmmmm r u sure??? U no go vex
ReplyDeleteHmmmm r u sure??? U no go vex
ReplyDeleteDEADLINE
ReplyDeleteI remember the first time I heard about God.
I was five years old, knee high to a bull frog, listening to my mother’s angelic voice as she read to me from ‘My Book of Bible Stories.’ That unforgettable night, she introduced me to Adam, Eve, and of course, the wondrous Garden of Eden. In fact her animated narration was all sweet and flowery until “God” got angry. It was my first experience with suspense. In one moment there was such tranquillity; even in the face of understated danger, when that no good ugly serpent cunningly persuaded my beautiful heroine into wilful disobedience. Yes; in one moment, all was well, but suddenly...! What had started as a radiant day came to an abrupt end; everything changed to the harsh reality of judgement. At that tender age, I could sense the awesome finality of this kind of authority; I felt the binding effect of this greatly understated sovereign power.
But when the whirlwind of adolescence comes to push reality into the jungle world, what was once reverence becomes subdued, and adulthood, tailored to meet the destiny carved out by this engaging illusion, descends with a shouting voice, the kind of brilliant noise that obscures the quietness of truth. Some people say that for the sinner, life is a long day. I never understood what this meant until I celebrated my thirtieth birthday, in 2011...
*************
ReplyDeleteShe stared at him while he snored.
She didn’t love him. His touch couldn’t ignite any magical feeling, and she avoided his kisses. It was a cold, disgustingly soppy chore, and mercifully brief. Blinking, she realized that the only reason why she’d agreed to their regular trysts was because she was tired of being lonely. She’d fallen in love once, but that amazing time felt like another life, when ignorance was bliss, and issues like a woman’s tribe, size or age didn’t matter. An innocent time, when love was love and money was the furthest thing from a youthful mind.
She left him still snoring in the big brass bed, and quietly undressed.
The compact, pink tiled bathroom with its butter-cream window panes cheered her somewhat, until disturbing thoughts invaded her restless mind. She could still hear the bluntness, the censure, in that annoying evangelist’s impassioned voice. “Stop sensationalizing your mistakes! Life isn't a Soap Opera; where you can place blame on one darn thing after another,” he’d said, “First it was infatuation, then love, and now its loneliness, but the one constant is sin, haven’t you noticed?”
Yeah, she’d noticed, but it was difficult to accept that love might have been a mere misconception, that fornication sounded so inconsequential only because, "-she was one death away from the bottomless pit-" Denial pulsed through her veins seeking release in furious expression, finding every outlet closed. The frigid cold from the room filtered in through the open door, cooling the steam off the rushing hot water. Scrubbing her fair skin vigorously did little to loosen the tension in her muscles.
She’d turned thirty today. Close friends were organizing a bash for this evening at a strip club. She’d never been to a strip club before, in fact she felt odd about it. She was still feeling odd about it twenty minutes later, washed squeaky clean; from the roots of her long brown hair to the tips of her short toe nails. There was a lot to do before the party, and she didn’t want to be late.
ReplyDeleteIn her hurry to step out of the bath, she lost her footing and slipped. Her short cry of alarm hitched on an octave as her arms flailed out, half reaching for the shower curtain. Aniema Ikpeme fell back, her head hitting the bony edge of the sink with a cracking sound. Her last conscious thought before the blackout was of Tunde’s loud, rumbling snore.
When she opened her eyes, she was still falling.
All around her was darkness and an extreme heat that increased with each sinking sensation; until she began to scream, and hear other screams mingle with her own. Confusion intensified, and so did fear.
Her lips trembled, “What’s happening...!” am I dead?
Suddenly her bare bottom banged hard unto scorching ground. Yelping, she pushed herself up with alacrity, hopping from toe to toe; terror widening her eyes when she glanced down, a great fiery abyss raging below what she realized was the very narrow ridge upon which she precariously hopped. Heart hammering, denial pushed against her rib cage. This cannot be. Help! Oh God help me!
The heat was unbearable.
“Will you let Me?”
ReplyDeleteTurning, she saw a tall man stepping-no-shining out from the darkness behind her. “Where am I...!” she shouted, crossing her hands over her breasts.
He came closer, and the ground mysteriously cooled. Her legs rested from their frantic dance, but her head ducked at the shrill, tormented cries getting louder, ripping through the blistering milieu. Mounting terror vibrated through her cringing form, overriding the awe, the guilt, and the disbelief.
His voice deepened with urgency, “You don’t have much time.”
The screams did not stop.
They were billions of outbursts she heard distinctly, one anguished tirade from the other, together an inexplicable unending roar. The raging sea of fire devoured every writhing shape within the violent flames. She stared in horror at the shocking crowdedness of the burning.
His admonition echoed, “Mathew 22: 31-32. It is written. Wake up.”
Wake up...She opened her eyes. Pain exploded in her brain. Moaning, she tried to lift her head and couldn’t. Reality slowly shifted into focus, the dream cloud fading into a white ceiling anchored on pink tiles. Shivering, she listened for the heart wrenching screams, but it was Tunde’s loud, rumbling snore that punctuated the silence. She lay paralyzed with fear, awkwardly sprawled across the cold floor until he sauntered in to pee.
wow...so we are back here...to the question...
ReplyDeleteMbok babe
ReplyDeleteSee....This world is coming to an end really fast WTF is this? ???????? And choco abeg cool down...
ReplyDelete