The night was not so young anymore. Somewhere in one of the apartments located in the off-campus community of one of the nation’s foremost federal universities, Mark was panting as he brought himself in and out of Chioma with all the skill he could muster. Perfect way to end the weekend and usher in a new working week. Being entangled with such a lady so beautiful and light in complexion was more than he could ask for. Mark couldn’t have wished for anything else…….

Or could he have? This was not exactly his mission here. He had only come to visit Chioma after her perennial accusations of not being a caring study partner. The night had begun with an intellectual discourse on Chinua Achebe’s ”There Was A Country”, followed by an exhibition of Chioma’s great culinary skills. They then proceeded to watch a few episodes of Spartacus on her notebook, after which one thing led to another, their lips collided and then the movements began.

No, Mark was not your typically experimental, virile and adventurous undergraduate with a considerably high libido. He was nothing of the sort. Mark, a penultimate year student of one of the Arts disciplines, was a young man from a conservative Christian background who had been grafted into one of the major fellowships on campus right from his first year. He had been very dedicated to the cause of soul-winning, and had in fact spearheaded a major revival which swept through the university the previous session. For him, this would be the very first time he would be applying his manhood to a purpose other than that of urinating.
Not so for Chioma. She had been through her fair share of relationships, and was quite ‘experienced’ in that sense of the word. She had heard Mark boast that he was above seduction, and tonight she would make him eat his words.

Mark was not having the easiest of nights. No gym class, no football training session, had ever made him sweat profusely and gasp for air as he did that night. He had even gone on to make his first insertion in the wrong place, but Chioma, who managed to hide her giggles, put him in the right direction. She was on hand to guide him, having him alternate between his palms and his mouth on her breasts, and having his tongue glide down her torso. When he let out an emission from his organ, she led him through the messy process, and when it had seemed to lose steam, she patiently worked it until it was ready to go again, facilitating the application of his fingers in the meantime.

Exhausting and enerviating as the whole experience seemed, Mark just could not get himself to disengage. Maybe it was the atmosphere; it was near-perfect for the occasion. The lights were dim and the weather was largely influenced by the downpour earlier on. Furthermore, serenades such as John Mayer’s ”Your Body Is A Wonderland” and Robin Thicke’s ”Lost Without You” had their fair share of airplay on the background via Chioma’s mini home theatre. And when these were combined with the visuals of certain scenes from the Spartacus series, secretion of the appropriate hormones just had to be at an all-time high. There was also something about the way the hair fell on her face, and the way she moaned upon contact, that seemed to spur him on.

Mark was an epitome of nervousness now, a plethora of thoughts and questions running through his head. How would he not know that his visit would culminate into this? Discussing a novel could only take so long. What would he and Chioma have done for the rest of the night, break melons? What other meaning could have been read into the honey-laced text messages she had been sending for the past few weeks leading up to tonight? How had he become so connected to a lady whose principles were much different from his? What had Benny Hinn’s ‘Good Morning Holy Spirit’ got to do with E.L.’s Fifty Shades Of Grey? Had he himself not admitted to his fellowship president that there was something inexplicably alluring about Chioma, after which he was told to be careful? How then did he end up here? Or was there a little bit of desire on his part as well?

Well, whether or not he wanted this wasn’t the issue; he had somehow found his way in, and he had to be a man on this score, hard as it seemed. By now he had let out another emission, but Chioma was on top of the situation, patient enough to let him get himself together and keep up with the thrusts. Afterall, Postinor was not out of circulation, she reasoned. Even if it was, she knew where to get lime. She eventually switched her position, straddling him and gripping it so she could feel more of him inside her.

For Mark, he could feel all his efforts at chastity go down the sewers. His resolution earlier in life to keep his fly zipped until his wedding night, was now a mere vocal exercise. He it was who had, in his zeal for the Lord, exhibited violence when he spotted two lovebirds canoodling under an almond tree at night, in his first year on campus. And now here he was! So much for Proverbs 31:3. So much for Hebrews 13:4. So much for 1st Corinthians 6:18. So much for 1st Thessalonians 4:3. So much for his personal mantras imploring God to ”keep him where the light is”. He had fallen to that which he had boasted of being immune to.

Mark’s mind was riddled with guilt like bullets in a windshield. He couldn’t believe what was going on, what he was doing with his body. This guilt soon gave way to anger. He wanted to curse the day he first met Chioma. As far as he was concerned, she was Delilah and Jezebel fused into one. With further reluctant thrusts anger gave way to resignation, and resignation to desire. He couldn’t deny that a tiny part of him wanted her, and wanted this. He had tasted the fruit, and he was going to enjoy this first bite. With all the lustful energy he could muster, he went into her with renewed vigour, a move greeted with prolonged moaning from Chioma. He lacked experience, but he would make up for it with passion. He no longer needed guidance in gnawing at her breasts, or in alternating between organ and tongue when he penetrated her.

In all the passion, Chioma spared a thought for what she had done, what she had unleashed in Mark. On the one hand, she felt slightly remorseful for making him break his vow of chastity. He was a really good person, different from many other young men she had known, one of the few genuine hearts around, and she wasn’t just about to change that about him. But ultimately, she reasoned, she had done nothing wrong. She had only shown him a more physical aspect of human emotions, while also proving to him that he was human afterall. For all she knew, he should be grateful for finding an avenue to express himself, to unleash his potential.

Two emissions later, and they were done. He would doze off soon after, Chioma’s head resting on his chest. But he wasn’t prepared for how he felt the next morning. A feeling of ‘post-coital tristesse’ was what first engulfed him. The sadness was overwhelming, to say the least. He wished that could be all he would feel, but it was not to be. Something most difficult to explain took over his emotions. The last time he felt anything close to this was at his baptism nearly a decade ago. And indeed, the events of the previous night could pass for some sort of emotional baptism. He had been introduced to the ways of the world. He took a long hard look at the mirror; that unusual glow that often lit his face was gone. En route to the classroom, he could feel everyone staring at him. It felt like they already knew what transpired between he and Chioma. ‘Is this how Adam and Eve felt after discovering they were naked?’, he wondered. A new chapter in his life had been opened, and his innocence was missing from its pages. Chioma was by no means his wife, but thanks to her, he had ‘known’ someone in the Biblical sense.