I had decided to relocate to the United States after seeing Gregory Peter to his victory. I volunteered to join his campaign team in my state and was involved in all of his campaigns and outreach activities. I visited every household, giving people reasons why they needed to vote for Gregory Peter and sharing T-shirts and face caps with his name inscribed.

Supporting Gregory to be the next president of my country was one of the most mind-blowing experiences ever. I saw him as the only one who could deal with the issue of polarity and agitations across Nigeria. I was so ready to do everything to make him win the election.

During one of his numerous campaigns, I drove miles to hear him speak. The hall was full of different people, and everyone was ready to listen to what he had to say. It was a thick crowd, with almost everyone raising placards. When Gregory finished his speech, the crowd exploded in applause, clapping and whistling. Looking around, I watched how people around were glowing with a strange phosphorescence, all treading a single line of unbroken emotion. It sometimes comes to me as a sweet shock that so many people felt as I did about Gregory. They believed. They truly believed the country would change if only someone like Gregory were in power.

I encouraged everyone I met to vote for Gregory Peter; my husband was the only thorn in my flesh.

I had done everything I could to make him see why Gregory was the best candidate, but he chose Adekunle Ahmed of the opposite party. His reasons for supporting him were not even something I could buy. He believed he was the perfect candidate because he was older and had enough experience to govern the country.

Even though our union was full of passion, I wished we had shared another love outside ourselves. We’ve always had different views on things, but I wanted him to support me this time.

I needed his support, but he was not ready to discuss it.

On the Eve of election day, there was an unusual weightless, seamless desire between us. He leaned in and kissed me. At first, I was slow in response, and then I began unbuttoning my blouse, my pale fingers flying over the fastenings.

Inside the room was a fat candle burning on a silver tray. The warm light played over my pretty features, casting my skin in a golden glow.

I watched him as he admired my sweetness. I could tell from the expression on his face that he couldn’t wait to have a taste of me.

In a blink, his pants and boxers were on the floor. Sighting his hard and erect cock, I couldn’t help but smile appreciatively.

He lifted me off my feet and dropped me gently in the centre of the bed. I’d meant to tease and tempt him, to build the heat between us, but the need to have him was riding me hard. I couldn’t help it.

I have met and had sex with different kinds of men. Men who moved on the fringes of life, just like me, but Stephen was different. He lived it, embraced it, and grabbed it with both hands. I could feel that in the way he kissed and touched me.

His erection jutted towards precisely what I craved, more and me. I reached for him, with the mind of stroking every length of him, but he caught my wrist and stopped me. Instead, he guided himself closer to where I wanted him. He entered me slowly, hands bracketing my shoulders on the bed. The feeling of him inside me was indescribable.

Locking my legs around his waist, I held him there, moving my hips to his to give him the same pleasure I had just felt, but the sensation built for me again. The slick friction drove me wild, my fingers seeking purchase on his back as I drew closer and closer to that point of no return. He edged his way inside me, filling me so completely that there wasn’t any room for thought.

Biting my lip, I tried to hold back, to make it last for him, but when our eyes met, I knew I was lost. Stephen breathed my name so softly that I saw it more than I heard it.

The orgasm hit me so hard that my back arched. A scream of pleasure ripped free from my throat; the release was so powerful that I collapsed against Stephen, every nerve ending throbbing. Through the haze of lush fulfillment, I felt his release inside me as his hand fisted at my waist and his body tensed over and over.

I lay slumped against his chest, breathless and dizzy. I shifted away enough to recline against him while we recovered. In a full circle of completeness, I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up to him staring intensely at me in the face. He kissed me on the forehead and said, ’’Let’s go make Gregory president’’.

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.