The other day, I was riding short-gun in a friend’s whip. My men Piper and Sam were vibin' in the backseat while the homie Femi was on the wheel. It was a beautiful mid-week night and we were headed to some swanky over-priced hang-out somewhere in the ‘burb.
As we approached a corner, I stuck my head out the window trying to get a good look at the ladies of the night strutting their stuffs. Clad in very skimpy tops with swatches of cloths masquerading as skirts around their waists. They swivel their hips back and forth, calling to every car that passes- by, “hi, sweetie!” or “hey, darling”.
Just for the heck of it, Piper suggested we slow down. One of the hoochies ran up to the car smiling that annoying plastic sexy smile they all put on and smelling like she just took a dip in a pool of cheap perfume. As she got closer I told my boy to step on it, she ran after the car but when she realized we were just messing with her, she hurled explitive after us as we drove away laughing. The mood in the car was of burst of brilliant colors!
At some point in the drive, we all fell into default mode, that brief moment when people keep quiet at the same time, every man to his thought, like some god had waved a magic wand, casting a spell of silence on everybody.
I reached for the radio and clicked on the search button. Keri Hilson’s new joint “Lose Control” came on and am like, damn! That record sounds so much like Rihanna’s “What’s My Name?” I said to no one in particular. I loved it, though. The other guys didn’t appear to give two-fucks about me or the song or Miss Keri!
And just as I was settling into the groove of the song, the on-air personality interrupted my flow with the usual rhetoric about going into a short commercial break and how the listeners shouldn’t touch the dial and some other bullshits they like to reel off the top of their domes like some programmed robot. I hate that shit, so I made up my mind to do what i usually do whenever I hear a DJ say that... change the fucking channel but then, the guy said something about how the topic of discussion for the night is premature ejac!
It was almost as if the radio got our collective attention in a choke-hold!
“My oga, don’t change the station”, Piper said from the backseat, taking a long pull from the bottle of cold beer in his hand.
And am like, “hmm, heavy topic, huh?” Nobody replied, they just nodded their heads in unison as if they’re connected to a mother switch.
“Trust you’re an all-nighter, huh?” I said, directing my question at Piper.
Instead of answering, he deflected the question back to me, saying something about how I was the only single man in the car. Of course, I wasn’t having none of it. There was no way I was going to answer that. Told them I’d exercise my right to be silent on that one!
A couple of anonymous callers phoned in, lamenting how they’ve been battling the problem for some time now. And of course there were the few ones who claimed they’ve never been there. There was this loudmouth calling himself “the lady magnet” who kept in going on and on about how’s always been the man from day one.
“That right there”, Sam said, referring to the lady magnet, “is the attitude of a lot of cats”
“So, has any of you porn stars (referring to the rest of us ) experienced quick ejac before and am not just talking about those times when you were learning how to get shit done or the once-in-a-whiler?” Femi asked, taking his eyes off the road for a bit.
“Neverrrr!” from his throne in the backseat, piper yelled, spilling a good dose of beer from his mouth to the back of my neck.
I'm sure a lot of guys have seen this kind of situation play out before and a lot more have been part of this familiarly strange jaw-jaw many times before. The thing about this taboo is, many men are given to casting themselves in the role of the legendary porn-star; John C. Holmes. There’s every tendency for men to boast and don themselves in the garb of a bedroom super-hero. It's a well-kept open secret that a lot of guys would rather go six-feet under than admit to his boys that he's a one-minute man. Never! It's an ego thing.
We got to the spot, grabbed a table. We teased ourselves subtly about how we heard that the other can rotate on all tyres all night-long. Other guys joined in. Bottles after bottles of beers were downed. Despite the amount of alcohol consumed, nobody let slip or gave anything away. The closest anybody came to admitting anything was agreeing to using locally brewed concoctions every once in a while.
Anybody still want to know if I reach the point of ejaculatory inevitability too easily? Umm, maybe I do but then again, maybe I don’t. Truth is, y'all might to test a brotha wit that pussy to find out!
tempting. lolz
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