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Evans And His First Kiss Episode 2

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Evans And His First Kiss

Evans stirred, then he stretched, and finally he opened his eyes to the new day. He saw his school bag on the reading table, and he remembered the novel in it. Evans also remembered a paragraph from its fourth chapter: Amy spread her legs a little further, ready for the deep thrusts that would follow; she knew Jôse was about to spurt.

Evans felt the sheets, searching for a damp spot. He searched, but found none. He had to search, for a damp spot on the sheets had become an almost every-morning discovery, the evidence of a spontaneous orgasm. Evans rolled on the bed, certain that he had slept alone. His elder brother, Jerry, had marked another night of faithfulness to his newly-adopted practice, which involved sleeping on the three-seater sofa in the living room.

Previously, Jerry had always returned to the room each night after watching a late night movie, but in the last three months, he had preferred the sofa. Evans could swear that Jerry’s action was deliberate. Nothing else, Jerry would leave the sofa and walk to the room, and the bed, once it was five-forty each morning, knowing that Evans, whose day normally began at five-thirty, would be awake, and out of the bed.

Their mother, Nneoma, had been vocal with her displeasure. Then, when the practice was yet new, it was common for Jerry to drift off to sleep, leaving the television on. It was also common for Evans to be awakened when a row started between mother and son.

“I’m twenty now, I’m not a kid anymore.” Jerry would remind their mother. “Find a suitable means to pass your message across, stop shouting at me.” Jerry’s voice, most times, sounded louder.

“We would not be having this conversation if you were responsible enough to act like every other twenty year old.” And she would continue, telling—same tales—of what others had achieved by the time they were past the teen years.

Whenever they were not loud enough to awaken Evans from his sleep, Jerry surely would not miss the opportunity to tell him they just had a brief argument, as Evans would be awakened by the bang of the door after he had walked into the room. These days, their mother would rather let her eldest child sleep while she switched the television off.

Evans tried to stand and he felt an ache in his head. Evans reached for the torch that lay on the floor, close to the bed. He turned it on, directing the light to the clock on the wall. The clock revealed that it was twenty-five minutes before six, and he had slept for less than five hours. It also revealed that he had only an hour fifty-five minutes before the deadline for the submission of his chemistry assignment.

Evans was glad he had fetched enough water the previous evening. He only had to brush his teeth, take his bath and eat his usual breakfast of tea with bread.

Evans picked his toothbrush from the rack where he normally kept it—except the days he forgot it in the bathroom. He walked to the door, heading for the kitchen where the toothpaste was stationed, before he would follow the path to the bathroom, to brush his teeth and to take his bath.

“Ruth,” Evans called, after he had tried to open the bathroom door. “hurry up” he begged. He had felt an urgent need to urinate, so he had walked to the bathroom first. Evans then walked to the kitchen to get the toothpaste, hopeful that at his return, his younger sister would be out of the bathroom.

“Mummy, good morning.” he greeted. She was pouring hot water into a flask. Nneoma was fully dressed, which meant she was almost set to leave for her shop at Idumota market.

“Good morning.” she responded. In the past, she would have added, ‘how was your night?’ These days, she did not find it necessary. The responsibility she bore, since her husband died, had made her loose some of the niceties that were formerly hers. Jerry also made her burden heavy. Years back, Jerry had been her favourite—unsaid, but evident. Nneoma’s love for Jerry had grown after a prophet who had been invited to their church had later prophesied that Jerry would eventually become wealthy and also a prominent minister of God.

A thought crossed his wind, and he gave voice to it without much consideration. “How was your night?”

Nneoma was obviously surprised, and pleased. “Fine. Thank you.” Though she did not reciprocate the question, Evans did not mind. “There’s bread on the dining.” she said as she dropped the kettle that previously held the hot water she had poured into the flask. “Collect just enough, so there would be some remaining to eat with the beans in the fridge, in the afternoon.” Evans nodded, though he knew the message ought to be directed to his brother. He heard the sound of the bathroom door open, and he remembered his full bladder.

As Evans used the sponge on his slim, five feet eight inches body; his mind drifted to the events of the previous day in school. And it remained there for a while. Then he considered his father’s death, and the change in circumstance that caused him to be enrolled at Michael Adeshina college.

His thought went to the assignment on the reading table, and he hastened with his bath, pouring water on his body to wash away the soap, and dirt. Evans had spent more time than he anticipated, as the assignment on electrolysis had proved to be more complex than the examples the teacher had given. The constant drifts he allowed himself—while he wrestled with the calculations—also contributed to the delay.

First, he had written on a piece of paper ‘I’m too bad to be seen hanging with a gay dude’—words Emeka had said to him. Then the words made him remember their first year in secondary school, and he remembered Femi—the boy who had peculiar characteristics that made most of his mates to avoid him. Femi was also famous for spotting repeated erections—sadly, whenever he sat close to a boy. Emeka, who shared a seat with Femi, soon found a new partner, leaving Femi alone. No one had used the term ‘gay’, but now Evans knew that was the right word for Femi. At that time, Femi’s actions were just unnatural enough for him to be avoided. Femi did not resume the next session. And a rumour soon peaked. It started with Gbolahun. He claimed that Femi had travelled during the holidays, and had died in his village. No one bothered to confirm how true the claim was. Maybe it was just a perfect escape, to rid their young minds from the thought of an unnatural boy.

Evans picked up his towel, and he remembered the piece of paper he had left in his chemistry notebook. On it he had written the names of three girls—all pretty; intelligent; popular; and in SS one, science department. Evans knew he would rather die than become another Femi. Before he had retired to bed, he had concluded the assignment and a decision to date Jacinta, the fairest among the three girls.

As Evans dried his body, he made himself believe that he could keep up with the part. He imagined Jacinta being in the bathroom with him, and he moved closer to the wall, fueling his imagination that he was moving closer to her. Evans touched the bathroom wall with his hands, body and penis.

He turned as he realised that someone had turned the knob of the bathroom door. “Who’s that?” he questioned.

“Brother, I’m ready for school.” he heard his younger sister say. Evans immediately recognised that he had stayed too long in the bathroom. “Hurry, I don’t want to go late.”

“I’m coming.” Evans said. He smiled. While he spoke with his sister, his hands had been busy with his penis. “I’m coming.” he repeated loudly, as his semen hit the bathroom wall, exactly where he had imagined Jacinta’s vagina would be.

“Don’t get pregnant, please.” he said to the wall. Then he smiled again.

“Mr. Obi said he will delay a bit. He is still marking our assignment.” Bimpe, who had gone to call the chemistry teacher, announced. “In the meantime,” she continued, “y’all are required to keep yourselves busy with your textbooks; exercise thirteen, page two hundred and seventy-four.” Some hissed, and a few searched their bags for their textbook. Those who were indifferent comprised the majority. Evans continued with the novel he had been reading, before Bimpe’s interruption. He flipped a page, searching for the next paragraph marked with red ink. The new page had three paragraphs marked with red ink, and Evans started with the first: Jôse’s cock leaped each time her lips touched him. He felt his huge, erect member; and his desire grew. Amy saw the plea in his eyes, and she made his cock leap one last time before she took all of him in her mouth.

“Evans,” he heard, and he looked up. Ijeoma Nweze stood quite close, and Evans wondered why she had raised her voice to call his name. “I’ve been standing here, and you did not even notice my presence.” she said. As usual, it did not require more than one sentence for one to recognize that Ijeoma had spent most of her life in the village. “Ehn, what are you reading?” Ijeoma asked. She tried to reach for the novel, but Evans quickly moved the book. She hissed before she delivered her message. “Mr. Hassan wants to see you in his office, now.”

“Mr. Hassan?”

“Yes. Or, you don’t know him again?”

“Why?” Evans asked.

“When you get there, you can ask him that question. And others too, because I know you never run short of questions to ask.”

Evans stared at her, giving Ijeoma the false impression that her words had gotten to him. On the contrary, he was pleased. Evans had engaged her in a conversation just to buy himself some time—enough time to return to a flaccid state.

“Mr. Hassan said you should come immediately.”

“What’s your problem this morning?”

“My problem, abi? Don’t worry, when you get to Mr. Hassan’s office you will know that you are the one who had a problem all along.”

Evans stood to his feet. He also made his usual adjustment with his trouser.

“What are you looking at?” he asked Ijeoma who stood observing his ritual. She hissed and walked to her seat. Evans forced the novel into his pocket, knowing Ijeoma would search his bag for it. He would have dropped the novel with Emeka, but Emeka was not in the classroom.


As Evans walked down the stairs, he felt the urge to ease himself. He made a quick decision, choosing to answer Mr. Hassan’s call first.

“Senior Evans,” he heard. He turned and saw Jacinta standing close to the door of her classroom. Evans swallowed. The need to use the toilet also increased.

“Did I scare you?” she asked.

“No.” Evans replied. He walked close to her, though maintaining a reasonable distance, unlike in his imagination, that morning, where he had her pinned to the wall, before bathing her with his semen.

She smiled. “Sorry for the distraction, I just wanted to greet.”

“No, it was no distraction. And thanks for the greeting.”

“You are welcome.” she said.

“Wait.” Evans called, as Jacinta had made an attempt to run into her classroom. “Can I buy you ice-cream during the break period?” he asked. Evans tried to remember the amount he had in his pocket. At the moment, he could not.

Jacinta’s smile broadened, and Evans was pleased. Her smile was enough to show that she had accepted to spend some time with him.

“Okay. I’ll be standing at this point, right here, once the bell is rung for break period.” Evans liked the way Jacinta smiled. “I hope you won’t change your mind?”

“I won’t”

“And I hope you won’t keep me waiting for long.”

“I won’t.” she said, and immediately disappeared into her classroom. She had suddenly turned red in the face.


Evans walked into Mr. Hassan’s office with a full bladder. He prayed their meeting would be brief. Evans also tried to steady his breathing, as he had run most of the distance.

Mr. Hassan looked up as Evans approached his table. “You took quite a while. I sent for you over an hour ago.”

An hour, Evans muttered. Either Mr. Hassan was exaggerating or Ijeoma had not been prompt with delivering the message, he reasoned. Evans accepted the latter.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Evans apologized. Then he added a lie, hopeful that Mr. Hassan would not doubt his claim. “There was a teacher in my class.”

“Okay. I wanted you to meet the parent of a new student in JSS three.” Mr. Hassan said, while his hands adjusted his eyeglass. “The boy, though smart, he still finds mathematics to be too difficult, hence the need for assistance. And as my best mathematics student while you were in junior school, I felt you can handle the situation.” Mr. Hassan paused, then he continued, “The kind gesture will surely be appreciated.” They both smiled. “Only a fool will accept that a teacher’s reward is in heaven.”

“Sir!” Evans hailed, trying to uphold the teacher’s joke.

“By the way, hope you still top your class in mathematics?”

“I do try my best, sir.” Evans responded. Though he acknowledged to himself that he had dropped two positions.

“Is the proposal something you can handle?”

“I’ll try my best, sir.”

“Good.” Mr. Hassan said, before he turned to a boy who knelt at a corner in the room. “You, go to JSS 3A and call me . . . Oghenekevwe Walter. Then you can go to your class. But, next time don’t fail to submit your assignment.”

“Yes, sir.” the boy said loudly, and scurried away.

While they waited, Mr. Hassan tore a sheet of paper, and on it he wrote a mathematical problem. When he was done, he passed the paper to Evans. Evans was grateful that Mr. Hassan had chosen a problem from the topic Bearing.

“Good morning, sir.” someone greeted and they both turned towards the door. Evans turned first. “Good morning, senior.”

“Come right in, Walter.” Mr. Hassan said. And in walked the most handsome boy Evans was sure he had ever seen. He considered the features of the boy that walked in: dark, slender face; low, natural-curly hair and fine broad shoulders. A perfect description of a teenage boy, Evans thought. He suddenly felt hard in his short, and he was unsure if it was a product of his full bladder or the presence of Walter. Evans blamed it on his bladder.

“You sent for me, sir.” Walter said with a bow.

“Yes. This is Evans, senior Evans. He will be your guide in mathematics. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot from him. Evans is a good boy too.” Walter had a shy look when he turned briefly towards Evans. He quickly looked away as their eyes met. Evans smiled.

“When do we start, sir?” he asked.

“That’s for you to decide. You are the master here.”

“Let’s start today, during the break period.” Evans said. He had completely forgotten that he had made a proposal to Jacinta minutes earlier.

“Perfect.” Mr. Hassan said. “There seem to be a bond between you two, that I can sense. And I love it.”

Evans smiled. Walter smiled too.


Emeka walked the stairs slowly. He had spent a reasonable time in the biology laboratory, as Mrs. Bassey had asked him to clean the windows, his punishment for coming late to school. After Emeka walked into the laboratory, it did not take long for him to observe that it looked same as it had always been. He guessed it must have been a minor re-arrangement that Evans had done the previous afternoon, also considering that Evans had not stayed there for long. Emeka pushed all thoughts about Evans and the laboratory as he saw Jacinta approaching.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi,” she responded, and tried to walk past him. Emeka stood in her way. He had always wanted to talk to her, but never summoned the courage. He was not shy, neither did he find it difficult talking to a girl. Jacinta was the only girl he had such difficulty with. He believed that was how true love was meant to be.

“Can we spend some time during the break?” He prayed she would be kind enough to say—yes. “I could forfeit my lunch money for you.” he added. He thought his offer would make her smile, but it did not.

“I’m sorry. Your friend asked me out first, and I accepted.” she said. “And obviously, three persons would be quite a crowd.”

“Evans?” Emeka asked.

“Yes.” And she freely walked past him. Jacinta took few steps before she turned. Emeka had remained fixed on same spot. “Do tell Evans that I prefer the vanilla flavour; he’ll understand.” She smiled, and continued on the stairs. Emeka knew Jacinta’s last sentence served only one purpose—he should stay away from her, far away. And she had delivered it well.

Emeka smiled. If I can’t get you, neither will Evans, by hook or by crook; he muttered.

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