“I could draw”

I look back in time and smile at some of the things I did growing up . . . I particularly remember my mud works – moulding prototype buildings; decked, fenced, roofed plus windows and doors.

They were very real . . . Very different from what other kids my age did too . . . Structures emanating from deep within my young soul made real . . . I brought out the drawings from my heart . . . Giving them life . . . Birthing them.

I could draw . . . For real.

For that singular fact, everyone around me thought out loud:

‘He is gonna be an engineer’

I did everything at that stage real fast too . . . The only one of my siblings that leaped from primary 5 to class 1 . . . It was a feat . . . A family record.

It was to catapult me to the technical arm of my secondary school as well . . . We had the grammar, science and technical arms . . . In line with the dream, my combination was carefully selected . . . Technical drawing, woodwork, metalwork, applied electricity and the likes . . . I stood out tall in the TD classes . . . I wanted to be an architect. It was inborn.

I could draw . . . So awesomely too.

One tree never make a forest I found out . . . TD wasn’t enough for I barely was surviving in the other subjects.
I struggled through secondary school with virtually nothing to show for it . . . Drawing wasn’t enough, but I scraped through anyway.

The pre degree science programme gave me a second chance and shot at a university education . . . This navigated me in the direction of a science course . . . Fisheries and aquatic biology . . . Further opportunities to draw . . . I excelled, infact standing out . . . I drew so well in the practical classes that the lecturers found it unpractical and unbelievable.

4/10 or 3/10 scores . . . Copywork I got for my brilliant works where my mates that traced from the textbooks got 8/10 or 9/10 . . . Very good for copying.

How cruel ?

I got punished for being so so damn good . . . I eventually got chucked too.

I could draw . . . But it got me nowhere.

I fought my way into the social sciences faculty for yet another shot at a degree . . . Downcast . . . Low spirited . . . I trudged on and eventually did it . . . 9 years it took too.


I could draw . . . Real life lessons.

My quest to draw took a new dimension with the advent of social media . . . Specifically my joining fcbk in 2008 . . . I got a totally new opportunity at drawing.

I could paint an entire picture in my head . . . Happenstance, event, occasion . . . Absof.ckinglutely anything and bring it to real life . . . I could see the beginning and the end of any situation . . . Beginning with the end in mind . . . One huge habit I acquired over time.

I could draw . . . With words.

I could build, construct, draw, evolve or frame a story so good and so real that I couldn’t differentiate if it was real or fiction on the long run.

I am an architect eventually . . . Architect of words.

Long and short of all these . . . When I write, what I write and how I write does not categorically depict me . . . What you read about me are not as they seem.

Just so you know . . . I am getting somewhere.

I could draw . . . Absof.ckinglutely anything !




“Room No. 7”

Room no. 7 she asked for and indeed room no. 7 we were given at the motel . . . I was scared shit in my pants as we strolled towards the room direction and made our way through its entrance . . . Modestly furnished, neat with well laid out sheets. A mini size tv placed atop a bedside fridge just by the door to an equally inviting toilet and bathroom facility . . . My guest, my valentine for the year decided on a shower first and foremost before anything else after switching on the tv . . . Nothing of interest was showing as a million and one things went through my by now small mind . . . “What ifs ?”


“What if this or what if that happens ?”

I thought to myself as she slammed the bathroom door close.

I slid on the vast inviting bed, the succulence was soothing and this quelled my troubled mind . . . At least for awhile . . . I usually don’t get this awkward or scared on an adventure . . . This entire trip from the word go had felt strange, somehow; it had a sign of tragedy written all over it . . . No fuel. Her late coming. The untarred, deserted inner roads. Then room no. 7 . . . The puzzles needed some fixes . . . Asap too to lay my mind at rest.

After what seemed like 50 or so minutes, madam came out from the bathroom sparkling and glittering . . . Shinning brightly like a star . . . Skin glowing and inviting . . . She went to the phone and placed an order for breakfast, I declined but opted for a bottle of soda . . . The service was impressive as it was delivered in a jiffy too . . . A plate of yam and eggs for her . . . I watched as she took her time consuming the delicacy, slowly and delightfully . . . She’s indeed beautiful, the babylike skin beckoning on me to come get her . . . I bidded my time . . . Remembering the once popular tv slogan of Indian brand – Mirinda:

‘Never rush a mirinda’

Breakfast over and well rested she crawled up to me in bed, I was down to my boxers by now, still tensed but ready and looking forward to the main act.



It was all jeest a joke when I added and went on to become great friends with this fcbk friend . . . A top graduate from one of the southwestern state universities . . . She had been posted up north to do her one year youth service but had redeployed to Lagos . . . Met her for the first time when I volunteered to pick her from the airport that late January . . . Couldn’t believe my eyes as she was even much more beautiful than the pictures had portrayed . . . We drove down to my place and I later dropped her at the Ojota garage enroute to her Ibadan location . . . The hustle and bustle began in earnest . . . Unending phone calls and inbox messages etc . . . We giggled and pulled each other’s legs to our own delight too . . . She was free just as I was . . . I used to tease her to the point of even terrifying her that I was gonna date her.

‘You are a joke’ she’ll say . . . ‘Don’t even think of it . . . Neither is it possible nor practicable’ she said severally.

On Saturday February 13, we had gisted late into the night on the phone as usual when I dropped the bombshell.

“I am coming to spend valentine’s day wif you in Ibadan tomorrow.”

‘Whatttttttt ?’ she had screamed . . . ‘Don’t even try it’ she tried convincing me.

In the first instance I had no clue where she lived over there and in reality, I had limited fuel to travel as the fuel scarcity was biting then.

With fuel barely enough to get me outta Lagos, I landed in Ibadan on Sunday morning, skipping church and waiting for her at Mr. Bigg’s for the next line of action . . .I had no plans really . . . It was all up to her.

She showed up eventually after keeping me waiting . . . Waiting gets on my frayed nerves and I was at the point of flipping when she finally showed . . . All glowing and smiles . . . Calmed me down by taking me to a fuel station very well known to her family to fill my tank . . . Then.




She had a car and asked I drove behind her . . . I followed without a single clue as to where we were headed till we turned into several untarred side streets . . . We got to the front of a huge building and she honked for the gate to be opened . . . A security man flung it open and we drove into a vast compound . . . All quiet . . . You could hear the drop of a pin . . . She got down from her car and beckoned on me to follow suit . . . I did while also reluctantly following her into a reception area . . . It was a motel I found out.

She was familiar with the place going by the grins from the security guy . . . This was also confirmed both by the receptionist and the statement that was to follow from her mouth.

She was booking for a room . . . ‘Can we have room no. 7’ she had said.

If I was alarmed before now . . . I was at this point very very afraid for my life.

Was this a setup ?
Why room no. 7 ?
Ori iya mi oooooooooooooooo.



The reason for the day’s troubles . . . She planted kisses on my cheek severally and I drew her even more closer to enable me lock lips with her . . . The warmth was reassuring, the towel around her succulently soft body dropping off to reveal the cursp of her bobbies, mindblowing those twinnies were . . . I wanted to suck on them as much as I also wanted to stick my tongue in the warmth of her mouth . . . My third leg was by now on a lone protest to be part and parcel of this mesmerising event . . . It had mounted a guard of honor . . . She rolled further away from the towel, revealing it all . . . The entire landscape of a body whose work was almost spotlessly perfect . . . Well chiselled, the right moulds at the right places . . . Gosh.

We kissed passionately as well as me sucking away like a big grown ass baby on the twinnies . . . Those were delights. I nibbled at the nipples making her gasp and groan for more while also licking round the well shaped full blown breasts . . . This went on for what seemed like forever as she slid to the edge of the bed . . . Cupping her hands over my guy standing guard . . . The feeling was chilling . . . Killing as she slid it through the by now creamy mouth, the tongue working what seemed to be wonders . . . I was in ecstasy . . . In dreamworld . . . Electric shocks delightfully passing through my long dark body . . . She stroked me top to bottom as she so beautifully sucked away . . . The big boss, fully awoken and ready for the show . . . She got up and mounted the standing rostrum, sliding down with cries of joy . . . Both of us lost in the rythym. She grinded like her life and mine depended on it . . . Singing ma name in the process:

‘Ahhhhhhh, Gee. Yeeeeee, Gee. Ohhhhhhh, Gee’

I don’t know whether it was her scream of joy or the explosion from the rock between my legs that brought me back to reality.

I stood there dazed, one eye already blood shot from the quite heavy and deadly slap that had landed on my by now all swollen face.

3 burly and heavily built men standing over the bed, gun welding, the room and indeed the motel had been broken into . . . I was to find out in a most dastardly way a robbery was taking place . . . We heard 8 others lurked around the property.

The beatings we received still haunts my mind till this very day, every night for a fact.

It was yet again the nightmare . . . I’ve dreamt every now and then about what didn’t happen but should have happened in room no. 7.


The valentine sex that never was.

My nightmare !

The END . . . FINALLY.



“How I missed the Lagos marathon”

Finally . . . The d-day cometh . . . The 2nd International Lagos Marathon, one that had taken me several weeks of preparation . . . I’d also been able to convince fellow unregistered cyclists as myself to join me in this experience I was so much looking forward to. 

I had woken up about 3.30 am but finally got up at around 5.20 am to wash and dress up . . . My first phone call was to Tunde. He didn’t pick but called me  back almost immediately . . . He was getting ready too . . . I called Taofeek but no response then followed up on Akomz . . . He went to bed late and was unlikely to partake he informed.

Kenny also didn’t pick as well as Segun . . . Kenny showed up eventually.

While waiting for Taofeek (It was to be his first ever group ride on a Lagos road) . . . I had decided to warm up a little in my hood . . . At top speed I went up and down the next street and the most unexpected happened . . . A blow up . . . My rear tyre exploded like a cannister . . . I got down and pushed the bike in the direction of my house while also putting a call to Tunde . . . The time then being 6.30 am . . . Not much he could do anyway . . . Made unsuccessful calls to my vulcaniser too . . . Called Taofeek again to see if he had a grasp of the task ahead of me . . . No dice but he showed up a little later . . . We struggled but eventually removed the tube, patched and re fixed it to the rim, as we pumped we realised it was still leaking . . . The other guys called again . . . About the fifth time . . . They were already waiting and suggested I ferried my bike down with my car . . . In a jiffy, I latched it to the back of the car and drove towards our take off point . . . All exit leading to the expressway we found out were blocked  cos of the marathon . . . Panic set in.

I called Kenny to pedal down with Tunde’s spare tube . . . Like a flash he turned up . . . Taofeek had disappeared by now and we struggled on end and unsuccessfully so I had to tell Kenny to go with the guys. It was going to 8.00 am . . . Still bent on turning up . . . I strolled to the next street to get a vulcaniser . . . He quickly fitted the tube and I pumped . . . It was still flat.

I was disappointed but urged him to remove and look for the leaking point . . . We had to go to his roadside shop for this . . . I locked up my car and dragged the bike along . . . He removed, patched and fixed the tube again . . . As I pumped it refused to rise still . . . No dice.

Vulcaniser had to for the third time remove the tube again . . . He saw another leak and the whole process took place yet again . . . Remove tube, patch, refix and pump . . . It was firm this time around . . . Before this, a friend who had gone jogging passed by, exhausted but still interested in a photo shoot, so as usual, I did my thingy . . . Chuckles.

My tube was okay by now  anyway . . . I returned my pump to the car and wore my helmet . . . Excitedly, I pedalled towards the expressway . . . My own marathon was about to commence . . . Time was almost 9.00 am . . . To think I’d been on my feet all along too . . . As I happily gained momentum . . . I felt my rear tyre dragging and wobbly yet again . . . It was down . . . I cycled grudgingly to my own vulcaniser, his boy was around and I asked him to quickly fix my tyre . . . He mumbled some nonsense and instead of getting angry I just left him and walked down to bring my car, he’ll be needing my pump as theirs wasn’t the same size as my valve.

I came back and he fixed it yet again . . . His master now available . . . While they worked on the tyre, a neighbour called and I informed him of my predicament . . . ‘Ahhhhhhhh, forget that trip’ he begged . . . ‘Don’t do it again, just go back home’.

That option was unthinkable to me but by the time the tube was once again pumped and it yet again went down . . . In exasperation, I agreed . . . It was a lost battle.
I finally yielded to superstitious belief.

You can imagine me being disillusioned, disgusted, disappointed especially after inspiring not just cyclists but also runners to partake through a number of my social media posts.


The time . . . 9.30 am.

I got into my car and drove home . . . That was the much I could take.

I gave up !



My vulcaniser fixed and sent the bike through his boy and then sent me this message:

‘Gud day, noting do ur tayar, na ur pump no gud, I don do am’

“That First Kiss”

Finally . . . Slowly but surely I did it, mustering enough courage to lean forward and lock my lips with hers . . . I had being dying inside of me to taste how creamy and juicy those enticing and certainly inviting lips were . . . I did it . . . I tasted them.

Sweet Jesus . . . I slept soundly and real good that night . . . Dreams come through only if and when you pursue them.
Several months earlier, myself and my partner in crime, the one with whom I was co-labelled ‘Blues Brothers’ had gone visiting a friend or taken a stroll . . . I can’t remember for certain what exactly took us within that path but I sure still remember our coming into contact with these two angelic beings . . . Young sissies they were . . . One light in complexion and the other extremely dark . . . I was to find out they were sisters . . . We met again . . . Months after accidentally sighting them with my friend . . . They had both gained admission into the university, my university . . . The meeting though coincidental was very much welcomed . . . Light sister was in the law department while the dark sister was in the economics department . . . My being in the political science department meant we were both in the same social sciences faculty and we shared related courses . . . It was a stroke of luck . . . I became a good acquaintance to the dark sister . . . Simply just good friends . . . No strings attached . . . The thought never even crossed my mind at that time . . . With the passage of time we became closer and closer . . . We came home together sometimes from campus . . . Their house was just 3 bus stops from mine and other times too, I strolled over for the both of us to tag along to campus together . . . In no time the first semester was over and the easter holidays provided me an opportunity to attend a bash thrown for the fair skinned sister to mark her birthday.

The party, well attended rocked all the way . . . The following day I was over at my dark friend’s place . . . She had told me previous day to call her on my way to school . . . And there she was with my arrival, not sure if she wanted to go or not . . . The party was still telling on her . . . She was tired, a hangover . . . The celebrant had gone to school though . . . ‘Darkie’ was going to be all alone in the house and wondered what I was even goin to do on campus . . . ‘Why don’t I just keep her company ?’ she asked . . . Lectures were yet to commence anyway.

I didn’t think twice about the offer . . . “Oh my. Oh my” I thought to myself . . . Truly, I had come to the point I was wishing she was mine . . . In a way, we had a thing for one another . . . I missed her if I didn’t set eyes on her for a couple of days . . . I longed to be with her every now and then . . . I was liking her . . . So much too.

I chose to stay . . . The house was big, a semi detached duplex . . . 4 bedrooms with 2 sitting rooms, one on each floor of the storey building . . . A BQ with 2 rooms at the back too, they had moved in a few years earlier from their mum’s official quarters in Ikoyi . . . It was all quiet in the whole house . . . We had it all to ourselves . . . We talked. We laughed. We discussed school issues . . . The lecturers. The big boys and girls on campus. The courses and our expectations etc . . . She had told me her only chore for the day was going to pick her little niece from school some distance away by noon . . . So I knew I had good time at hand to rock and roll with this new friend of mine . . . At a time, we sat on the dining table, then the couch. We stood up too looking out through the wide glass door and then finally, each settled on 2 single seaters . . . Sitting on the edges and facing one another, a dark wooden stool separating the two of us . . . As we chatted away, I swung both feet back and forth . . . This motion at a time gave me chills as a leg touched hers . . . I froze but noticed she was expressionless . . . I propped myself up to sit on the edge of the settee as against leaning on it . . . Momentarily at a standstill . . . Minds lost in deep thoughts . . . ‘Go get her’ I heard a voice within me saying as I lounged forward . . . Eyes locked with hers . . . Heart pounding and pacing while also practically panting . . . I cursped my lips on hers, encycling them . . . Intensely and sweetly too . . . Nothing could have been that passionate in what was that brief moment, it all seemed eternal . . . Like forever . . . It was both joyous and shocking at the same time . . . The feeling was mutual . . . Even without asking and the attendant risk, I had crossed the line . . . But, was I really ready for this ?

The kiss . . . From that day forward was the commencement of 4 years plus a few months of intense campus courtship.

The beginning of what was to be an excruciating love story and affection between ‘Darkie’ and myself began thereof.
It very almost resulted in holy matrimony, but however, ended in a most dirty and heart rendering break up.

Resources . . . Money, time and soul sapping energy all down the drain.

Kikikikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiiiiii !



One of the great things about being married are the unplanned but pleasant happenstances you come across . . . A quickie for instance is one of them . . . Unplanned hot sex that is.

I had a couple of them . . . Imagine being fully dressed up for church one of those early mornings . . . Ready to leave the house . . . My responsibility as the harvest committee chairman demanded I was at all 3 Masses . . . I made it late to the 1st though cos of the early timing . . . This particular day . . . All dressed up and about to leave . . . She got up, unusual too.

‘Have you eaten ?’ she asked . . . I was shocked cos I usually don’t eat that early . . . I was to know what she meant minutes later as the food was not of this world . . . Guess she was horny . . . A quickie to the rescue and off I dashed away . . . I got laid . . . One for the road . . . Chuckles.

If you think that was a big deal . . . You berra hold it right there . . . Hold on I say.

Ok, there was also this night too . . . One of the nights she came back home glowingly happy . . . Unusual it was too cos the norm was coming in stressed and harassed like a wounded tigress . . . Which female banker won’t anyway ? They’re all overworked with unrealistic targets . . . Shame.

So there I was in my living room watching a Man United champions league match when she strolled in . . . Smiling and reaching out to gimmie a hug . . . What ?

A hug during the week was a huge huge surprise . . . So I had pulled her to me and planted a sweet warm kiss on her tender lips while also holding very firmly but securely to her soft body, the succulent twinnies, those two luscious breasts brushing against my barely covered chest . . . This sent cold shivers down my spine.

In the heat of the moment, she hurried out of her shoes while flinging the hand bag away . . . I got up swiftly, also gently pulling her along wif me . . . Lowered my body to lift her off the ground like a baby, whisking her away to the other room . . . Clothes yanked off, bra, panties and boxers pulled out . . . All these done neatly and swiftly in the darkness of the night . . . Lights out.

Emotions and passions being poured out . . . We pounced on and pounded at each other . . . Eating ourselves raw . . . Literally uncooked . . . But deliciously too.

Ok, lemmie spare you the seemingly gory yet exciting details . . . Cut camera. Cut camera.

Then we heard the steps of the nanny coming from the direction of the kitchen . . . She was still around and yet to be discharged for the day . . . Her ward, my young charming son laid sleeping on the bed . . . In my room.

Call it love making . . . Label it sex . . . Refer to it as a quickie . . . The free and readily available rumble in your jungle.

A marriage brings it to you served hot and spicy . . . As you like and want it.

Buffet . . . 3 course . . . Cocktail . . . However. Whenever. Wherever.

Gosh . . . I miss all of that . . . I’m sex starved.

Kikikikikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiiii !



I ran into this friend of mine while walking home one evening; a still very dashing young widow and mother of four – 3 boys and a girl.

Probably about 35 years of age.

She is always on about my goatie.
‘Ama pullout this goatie of yours’ she said once again.

“Ohhhhhh, do go ahead” I gladly concurred while also adding that what goes around comes back around for I’ll also pull something substantial in return . . . Every action warrants a reaction that is.

‘You’re joking right ?’ she said, smiling sheepishly and indeed very sexily too.

At that moment, I saw a good opening to drop one of those unguarded responses of mine . . . “You’re sexy you know”.

The glow on her face was phenomenal . . . Like that of an about to be laid eighty something year old.

You use that ‘word’ she said referring to SEXY.

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation.

‘SHIT’ . . . I use a lot more I said, further shocking her.

I use gangsta . . . I use nigga . . . I use all sorts, I disclosed to her . . . Mouth wide open.

She stood there in total disbelief . . . Amazed. Amused. Astonished.

The truth is most people don’t know this about me till they get within arm’s lenght . . . Close enough.

I swear alot . . . Ohhhhh, shocking revelation ?

According to a scientific study, intelligent people use more swear words (Google it) . . . Lol.

“I, O’Shine ORIGINAL, do solemnly swear . . .”

I can swear for your life . . . Not mine.


I so fucking do.

‘Ohhhhhh, he just used another swear word’ you’ll say.


FUCKING is jeest a place in Austria, situate along the border town with Germany . . . So live with it.

It’s a way of life for the people in the town of FUCKING.

They don’t swear . . . They jeest live.

Kikikikikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiii !



*Fucking is an Austrian village in the municipality of Tarsdorf, in the Innviertel region of western Upper Austria. The village is 33 kilometres north of Salzburg, 4 kilometres east of the German border.

“A reason to LOVE again”

Beauty.FULL is what I call her. Vastly knowledgeable she is too. Her intelligence is second to non.

In her humility and truthfully too, she had described herself in one of our numerous phone conversations . . . ‘I am a jack of all trade and master of all’.
Truly, no better way to describe her.

I remember an intense discussion we had. She had put me on the spot, very calmly too. I left richer still . . . No woman had ever spoken or talked to me so warmly that I can remember.

Every second or minute of the day that her thoughts come through to me, my heart is gladened.

Her smiles have uncontrollably and effortlessly melted my hardened heart.

‘You have a way with words’, she once said, smiling warmly.

I still recall, freshly too our first date. We had attended two similar events and I drove her home. Parked outside her serene neighbourhood, we had taken probably another 45 minutes chatting away in the car. I wish it could’ve gone on forever.
Time to go and she slipped her lefthand fingers into mine, squeezing them as she slipped away into the dark nights.
I felt a sexual chill go through my spine. I hadn’t felt such sweet sensation in a long long long time.
That memory and many such like it have sustained my nights in very recent times.

Days later, I shocked her . . .

“Will you marry me ?”

I couldn’t have put it in better words.

And I meant it from the deepest bottom of my heart.

I’ve found a reason to LOVE again !