Everything had been paid for, but “No pissing, no spitting, and no do yama-yama inside the pool”, the lifeguard said in a tone Adolf Hitler will envy. Everyone had to take a shower before getting in the pool. And we all have to don new swimming trunks and bikinis. Every term was agreed to. There were more girls than boys. The booze was so flowing you would think it was a pool of liquor.
The lifeguards were the only sober ones after about an hour of pool party. I am proficient in a lot of things, swimming too, and so I was putting the lifeguards out of work- I am sure they were hating my guts for that, because the life I was guarding were mostly female lifes. There were all shape, and shade, and size of chics, and a handful of them don’t know how to swim or dance.
In the water, we were playing, splashing, diving, and durty-dancing. Belly-dancing is out of fad, but I brought it back. Although the music playing was mostly Izon Highlife. But I can’t complain about the music because dancing to Izon Highlife beat requires wriggling, your waist- as a male, and shaking your bum-bum as a female. There were ijaw, itshekiri, Urhobo, Isoko, Kwale, Ekwere, Ibo, Yoruba, Edo girls, there was even one chic who came in an hijab. She could have been a hausa girl, but she was transformed as soon as she discarded her shrouds. Those who can’t shake their bums, did well with their boops. The party was in full swing, and we were Swinging, Swimming and Making Merry as It was Christmas.
There was one Oyinbo girl who neither knew how to swim in the crowded pool, nor dance owigiri. I became both her lifeguard and dance instructor. Not as if I was the best owigiri exponent o! But I dey try as an ijaw man. I was teaching her very well, and she was rewarding me with hugs and kisses. She got me high- higher than the freely-flowing booze did- my testosterone level too was spiking almost out of control. And she was high too, so high she needed support to do everything: swim, dance and to stand.
It was uncanny how the oyinbo chic always use my stiff cock as an handle. I obliged her, after all I was her avowed lifeguard. And the party went on. I have never been a lover of NEPA, but I could have kissed the next NEPA staff for what NEPA did next. NEPA struck suddenly without warning. The music stopped, and a solid darkness enveloped the pool and covered everything from sight. I am sure the Oyinbo chic had never experienced power outtage for the way she clung so tightly to me. Her hand holding my cock had started to kneed the throbbing shaft (perhaps, to make sure she had something concrete to hold on to). Another hand guided mine inside her bikini (perhaps to safeguard the pendant that was lodged there. I started to massage her to relieve the tension of power outtage. Why she was shoving my pulsating dick into her bikini could be more imagined than reasoned. Perhaps, she didn’t want to lost her dependable handle in the dark. And as it came into contact with warm lubricated flesh, a torchlight beamed on us. For a moment I couldn’t see or think, but a voice barked at me from behind the torchlight:
“Oga, no fuck for inside this swimming pool o!”
Before I could gather my scattered thoughts to formulate a cutting retort, the power came back on. The hotel people had started their generator, and restored power.
“Oya go pay for room, if you want fuck! No come spoil the chlorine inside the swimming pool”.
The angry face of one of the official lifeguards said at me. But the Oyinbo chic had swum adroitly away from me. I never got her attention anymore for the rest of the Christmas eve midnight pool party. She could swim on her own already without clinging to me or gripping my shaft to buoy herself.
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.