Ndifreke George


Dick roams in his sitting room, scratching his unkempt hair and punching his fist in the air at intervals. Time sprint in favour of the falling night pisses him off. The cloud had shown signs of a heavy downpour for days now, and the evening looks like a perfect time. The street is busy with people running to escape the downpour, which is already spitting in drizzles.

‘Oh rain, not today’. His anxiety rises. 

A loud car honk alerts him, and he flies to the window, perching on the frame to see through the glass into the evening which is fast becoming night.

Dick is expecting a nurse with a bag of drip to sedate him. He has not slept for three days now, and has seen all the evils that lurk when men sleep including the smuggling of a fat lover through a tiny window by his neighbour’s maid whose was sex-starved. 

Dick strains his eyes until he sees through the fog on the window glass caused by the moist from his heavy breath. He sighs. It’s not the Nurse Suz; she isn’t as plump as the passer-by. Suz is the sexiest nurse alive—from Dick’s point of view. With a slender body, shy boobs, brown eyes that spark desire, ruby lips that pronounce consonants louder than vowels, a beauty too loud to ignore, and massive butts that crawl behind her, Dick is convinced that she is the sedative he needs to plunge into an everlasting slumber. Whenever he thinks of her, his epididymis bleeds liquid desire, but he fears that she wouldn’t listen to him. She hates the fact that he’s just dicky!

‘Hey! Stay in your lane’. That’s her usual note of warning whenever Dick cuddles like an infant and motions closer to smell the fragrance of her soul.

Dick wants her not as a chartered nurse or just to eat her flesh and lick the heavy drips from her sacred shrine, but for keeps, and the glory of what they once shared. He wants her to nourish his soul just as she nourishes his body, and to sleep in the paradise of her arms even if he doesn’t wake anymore. He craves her touch, kiss, and to clasp with her in a heated consummation. To Dick, Suz is his future, but to Suz, Dick is a stale past with the putrid of a rotten egg; nothing more than an ex, not an ex-boyfriend, but an ex-husband who should burn to ashes from the jealousy of watching another man ravage what was once his. She had called him a dickhead when their marriage broke, although they still had a few things to do together. 

‘I’m no quitter!’ Dick beats his chest. Suz is his dreams, and his mother had told him to follow his dreams, so he would follow her until the day he vanishes into a spirit. 

‘Open the door!’ A female voice calls from outside, banging the door. 

Dick rushes to the door, confused. It couldn’t have been Suz; he didn’t see her pass by. He opens the door, and there stands Nurse Suz with a stern face, yet looking even more dazzling. 

‘Come in’. He gestures her in and close the door behind her.

Suz drops the polythene in her hand on his sofa and begs to use his convenience. 

‘Go ahead’.  

As Suz hurries to the convenience, Dick ogles at the luggage at her back and licks his lips— such a yummy thing full of vitamins to nourish his soul. It’s the starvation of her body that makes him sick. 

As soon as Suz returns, she hurries everything she has to do. 

‘I have a client to meet up with at the barracks before night falls’. She begins to search for where to hang the drip.  She lies—she wants him to feel jealousy that another man now husbands his wife.

She points Dick to the couch and he tumbles on it, stretching out his hand for the catheter needle. 

‘I heard that good sex helps people sleep too’, Dick says. He tries to pierce through Suz’s eyes into her heart, but she reads his antics and looks away.   

‘You can try that to be sure that it works’, she replies with a pale voice.

‘Okay’. Dick nods and bites his lips with the same tenderness with which he would bite a fair nipple. 

As Suz busies in fixing the drip, Dick asks, ‘I hope I can take this drip off later, and fix it back when I’m through’.

 ‘Why would you want to remove it?’ Suz pauses.

‘Cos I’m expecting someone soon’.

‘And how’s that going to affect your drip?’

‘I want to try the other option I just asked you about’.

‘What!’ Suz raises her eyebrow. ‘Sex?’

‘Yes’! Dick nods. He wants her to feel jealous that another woman now wifes her husband.

They accept that they are divorced, but not separated. Their souls still meet under a sycamore tree in Pluto, and they hug, kiss, and hold hands. But here on earth, they muffle their desire to be reunited in pride.

Suz’s eyes burnt with jealousy and she looks away to hide it. Dick sees the jealousy in her eyes and feels fulfilled; they are even. He rubs the fly of his trousers. As her eyes fixate on the three-seater sofa beside her, she remembers her days with Dick—how he grabbed her like a hero, flew with their merged weight and crash-landed on that sofa, and they tumbled on themselves heavily, giggling like silly kids.

She also remembers the water cistern which has carried their weight as they sat on each other’s laps, pounding up and down without the least caution. Then, Dick would grind her between his hefty body and the tiled wall and she opens her mouth wide enough to swallow the earth, yet moaning with the softest voice while her fingers drew the shape of pleasure on the wall with an intensity that could peel the tile. With her legs spreading apart to form a ninety degree angle, she gasped and jerked in short pulses to Dick’s strategic thrusts, which shook every corner of her internal. Then, she would feel the fire of emotions surging through her veins and flood of sensual fluid spurting through her arteries.

‘No’! Suz shakes her head to get off the tempting thoughts but it sticks like a leech.

‘Is there a problem’? Dick bends over to see her face.

‘Nothing!’ Suz lost concentration and pierces herself the needle and a blob of blood forms on her finger.

‘Ah!’ She interjects.

Dick rushes on his feet and grabs her. ‘Sorry’. He helps her with a ball of cotton wool and she soaks the blood, fighting to break free from the foggy feeling.  

‘I just got dizzy’. She sighs.

‘You need to relax’, Dick helps her sit on the single sofa. 

She makes to move but Dick plants her deeper into the sofa.   

‘You also need an injection, Suz’. 

‘What injection? You’re not a doctor’. Suz hisses for a joke, rubbing her forehead as she bends her head downward.

‘But how then am I able to use this syringe?’ Dick smiles.

Suz is alerted. She carries her head gently into the sight of Dick’s joggling his manhood in his hand.

‘What’s the meaning of—’

‘Shhhh!’ Dick cups her mouth with his left hand and plunges his erected self into her body like he wants to bore a hole to her back. 

Suz feels screwed to the chair and begins to shiver as a burning sensation almost peels off her supple skin. She makes to begs Dick to let go of her, but her she is dumb-struck. Her mind tells her to run but her body tells her to stay a little more.

She is dickmatized and Dick is virginalized!

As the clock ticks louder, the time tells them it’s time to go bunkers!

Dick moves her with ease, plants a deep kiss on her lips and she receives it with thanksgiving.

‘We both need healing, Suz’.

Her love is released and she receives it with ease. She clamps herself tight to Dick until she feels his junior rising and warm blood running from his head down to his sacred sacs from where he would grease her rusted body. Her eyes blaze her desire to be harvested and she cries from her soul’s deep want of fleshy meat.

Dick dips his hand into the back of her red, cotton gown, unhooks her bra, and removes the bra straps over her shoulder and hands. Then, puts his hand in the front of her dress and… tada! He breaks through the bra protocol and Suz is well-pleased. She worships his mastery of the art with the whole of her heart. 

She rips his buttoned shirt apart with firmness, and his bare chest stands out with abs and strands of erected hair to show for his masculinity. Suz is perked up. She drops her soul into his hands and he peels her clothes like the supple banana’s suit, leaving just a black pant to veil the threshold of her nether-world. 

Glory! Dick adores the artistry of Suz’s body with fear and trembling. He kicks her nipple softly with his fingernail and she jerks at the sting of impulse sinking into her body.

‘Ah!’ She relishes a gush of pleasure.

He feels her gooey breasts and the heat of pleasure burning on her skin as they take a little time to familiarize themselves with their bodies again—like they were setting the altar for the fall of burning embers.  

Dick grabs Suz by the waist, carries her, slams themselves into the three-seater sofa, and they giggle from pain and pleasure. Suz scrubs the white, sticky fluid that had poured out of her in heavy volume and shows to Dick, and his scrotum rumbles in arousal like the effervescence from a boiling pot. Suz tastes the fluid and makes Dick taste it too. Yummy! Dick pushes her with a mild, romantic aggression into the chair and plunges himself into deep cultivation of her body.

Suz’s soul burst out in songs and erupts like a volcano, and she moans from every thrust that fractioned her inside. Splaying her hands on the sofa’s hand-rests in total surrender to Dick’s will, Suz receives overwhelming love from Dick as he garnished her tripartite being, pouring sweat from the pores on her skin. 

As Dick increases his gear subtly, Suz’s voice hits its crescendo as she begs in tears, ‘Heal me, Dick. Heal me! Don’t you dare stop healing me, Dick. I want to be healed. I love your healing!’

Dick heals her, heals her again, and keeps healing her until she pops up like an emitted electron; jumping on her feet, she removes her hairband and shakes her head like she has gone bunkers. She runs into the bathroom to let volumes of liquid out of her body, and Dick follows.

As the liquid keeps pouring out of her body, Dick turns on the shower, pulls her in, and the sprinkles of the shower of water launch them into a wet session. Suz is not comfortable with the tap because it is washing away the paste that greases Dick’s penetration. She turns off the shower, holds the window and pushes herself outward so Dick could see beneath her beautiful into the redness of her honeypot. 

‘Jeez!’ Dick spanks her butts with tenderness, grabs the pillars of her waist, and dances into her, sponging sideway as Suz cries louder, ‘Heal me Dick, and I shall be healed!’

Dick was tall, and long in size. As he took the deepest thrust, Suz disentangles at once to catch her breath. She runs back to the sitting room and starts and lies flat on the floor splaying her hands and legs. Dick follows after her and crumbles on her again like the sky makes love to the sea until she her spirit leaves her body.

Dick turns her face-down, inserted two blocks of throw pillows under her waist for an elevation, and begins to dig, shovelling in and out as he admires her dancing butts. Suz is not responding to Dick in the present—the sensation and movement of pleasure molecules in her body keeps humming and bulging her eyes as Dick busies with her. 

Their bodies become dungs of emotions and garbage of pleasure. Dick continues until he feels a trickle surging from his scrotum. He begins to jabber until he ejaculates into Suz, speaking in languages unknown to carnal mortals. He pushes himself further until he is all swallowed inside her and no drop spills. He closes his eyes to relish the tensed pleasure, falling heavily on her, wham!

They both black out. 


The sound of the doorknob wakes Dick. He yawns, stretches himself, and looking at the wall clock, he realizes that he had slept for three hours. He turns into Suz standing at the door with her luggage.   

‘I am back, Dick’. She tries to smile. ‘I’ve been sick for long, and I need more healing’.

Dick grins.

Suz pushes the door with her shoe and it slams. She rips herself bare, and fall into Dick’s hands, and they are still moaning, till now.


Ndifreke George believes that writing is the intercourse of words to ejaculate sense.
He has spilt his ink on Brittle Paper, Kalahari Review, Antarctica Journal, ASL, WSA, Okada Books blog, Better Than Starbucks Interestional, and others.
He writes almost everything, except a few.
Whenever he asks people if he’s as crazy as what he writes, he always gets a consoling reply, ‘You’re worse!’

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The Erozine