My life has been nothing short of a surprise, even to me. I can still vividly remember the shock on my mother’s face when she found out from my siblings that I was dating a man old enough to be my father. I felt terrible for her because I knew that was the last thing she was expecting me to do, but who cares? “Everybody will be alright in the end,” I said to myself.

It’s strange how I don’t remember my childhood—no special memories, no childhood friends, and not even a faint understanding of what childlike excitement is all about. My childhood was dull and traumatic, and as if that wasn’t enough, growing up in a violent household made it worse. My father was a drunkard who would beat my mother, lock her, my siblings, and me inside the house, and disappear for days. Most nights, my siblings and I cried ourselves to sleep. On some nights, we slept on empty stomachs. The sleepless nights, poor nutrition, and constant stress affected me physically and emotionally.

The whole desire for an older man started when I was 16. Then, my mum already found the courage to leave my dad, so we had to move into another apartment. That was where I met Femi. We lived on the same street, and he was 27 years old. We met when I was in dire need of love and attention. Yeah, he said all the right things to a child who was already traumatised, and that was how the relationship started.

We started having sex three months into our relationship. Initially, I hesitated, but he knew all the right words to say, so I gave in. I leaned into him, wanting him to kiss me, and he did. Before I knew what was happening, I started unbuckling his belt. I wanted to see all of him. Of course, I knew what a male organ looked like from what I saw in my biology textbooks, but I hadn’t seen one in real life, so I was curious about what Femi’s own looked like.

So I unbuckled his trousers, and when I pulled it down, I saw the biggest thing I had ever seen in my life. At first, I was scared to touch it, let alone know what to do with it. It looked so hard and fat, and it leaned slightly to the right. Femi was indeed a grown man. He was looking at me, smiling.

After a while of staring, I knew it was time to have the whole of him. I quickly pulled down my panties, my skirt, and my top. He then moved his hands towards my breast, kneading my nipples with his thumb while I enjoyed the feeling of his organ pressed against my thigh.

He laid me down on the bed, then got on top of me, and our eyes were fixed on each other, feeling each other’s body. Looking at him, I didn’t feel any shame; instead, I felt power, and I think he felt it too. I had my legs wrapped around him, and we held onto each other tight as he thrust into me, making me feel all of him. He tore through my hymen, and I didn’t feel as much pain, just like he promised me. It felt like a new beginning. He thrust into me over and over, making me receive his love. And I took it. I took it with a smile. I took it with everything in me.

Even though that evening was a memorable one for me, I cried because I had the feeling that I had made a mistake, but it only lasted for that day. We had sex countless times after that, and it was such a sweet experience.

It was when my mum discovered that the truth about Femi came out.

He wasn’t 27—he was 40. He wasn’t single—he had a wife and kids in his hometown. And he wasn’t new to this—there were rumours of him preying on young girls in every neighbourhood he’d lived in.  It felt like he had ripped me apart and left me empty.

Now that I’m older, I wish I could say I got smarter, but I can’t because I didn’t. I dated several older men, and the cycle continued. Maybe someday I’ll break the cycle. Perhaps I won’t. But for now, I’m not ready to let go of what makes me feel alive.

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.