I feel plenty so sorry for Mr Devil.
Everyone always blames the poor guy for every stupid sexual mistake they make…or should I say blame him for the results of their sexual encounters?
My neighbour just told me a story and I’m pretty mad, especially when the stupid man, who committed the sin so to say, blamed it on poor Mr Devil instead of his one-eyed adventurous snake.
She returned late that day and felt she needed to give reasons for her lateness.
I didn’t give a crap anyway but didn’t have the heart to tell her.
She said one of the church workers balled a female member of the church and scored. He’s so good that he could put Chelsea Football Club to shame!
The story is not about how adroit the guy is on the sister’s football pitch, but the fact that the church is one of those fire-fire churches.
In such churches, it’s rare to hear that people, including pastors, kiss, let alone go to the extent of removing clothes, caressing turgid manhood or suckling on stubbornly erect nipples.
It seems the guy and the sister had been balling each other as if their very lives depended on it…and the guy still had the audacity to mount the pulpit on worship days to conduct prayer sessions and choruses.
Where the heck is she heading with this narration?
I mean, almost all clergies ball like there’s no tomorrow! Nobody seems to care much. It’s happening every day.
It’s no longer a breaking story…the breaking story should be about clergies who don’t ball!
But she seemed intent on telling me the story, no matter how much I feigned disinterest.
The incident must have been symbolic to her…don’t know in what way.
Nobody knew precisely how long the guy and sister had been banging, but it soon resulted in pregnancy.
Imagine standing on the pulpit, screaming invectives on sinners…condemning fornication, and adultery, while engaging in it with impunity!
The sister came to tell the brother that she was pregnant. Naturally, she refused to discuss abortion.
Why?
She’s born again! Abortion is a sin!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Did she say born again?
Yes oh, please don’t laugh!
My guess?
She probably wanted the handsome church worker, the incredible hunk in bed.
You don’t know abi? Kai, believe me, many of these born-again sisters and brothers are terrorists in bed.
They can bomb you…you come out from the performance looking like you don’t know what hit you!
You’re left feeling dazed…delirious…wanting another experience…needing another bang.
Beats me if I know where they learn such bedmantics from. What did you say? Oh! Right!
Oh, if you say so.
Yes, she probably wanted him to make an honest woman of her.
It would have been the perfect solution, except there was a problem.
What problem?
Problem was that the guy is married! Was that a gasp of surprise?
Yeah, you’re finally beginning to get the drift of the story.
Not ordinarily married, but with plenty of screaming children thrown in.
Our brother knew he was in a jam. What did the idiot with a reckless, restless candy stick do?
Go ahead…guess…He bolted!
Turned Usain Bolt.
This brother is the epitome of stupidity.
When Baba God was sharing mumu…this guy went there with storex.
Ask me where he ran off to.
He ran off to another branch of the church, still within the same zone! How stupid can a guy be?
Like a child around the area wouldn’t recognise him, let alone an adult.
It’s like a duck, trying to hide its head in a pond of water, yet the duck’s arse is showing…so who is fooling who here?
He went to that branch to continue as a worker…seems he likes working for God, but the rampaging snake between his thighs is his Achilles
Don’t know what lies he fed them in that branch…though I heard he was a known figure even in the church’s headquarters.
Pregnancy is not something anybody can hide.
Our sister’s tummy started bulging. Questions were asked…answers were received.
The brother was easily traced to the branch he ran to…he was invited to explain how it happened.
That was the part I didn’t understand…what do they mean by how it happened?
Even my five-year-old son will tell them that the brother stuck his peg into the round hole of the sister and bingo!
Even an idiot can figure that out.
What they ought to have asked or what I would have loved to ask if I was there, was where did they use to meet to ball? When did they use to meet?
Is it after every church service or what?
Our brother also blamed his action on the fact that he was having marital problems with his legal wife and thus had been denied sex for some time.
Ha. What arrant nonsense!
You’ve not heard anything yet! It gets better.
The idiot finally mentioned what led me down this path of writing.
He blamed his action on Mr Devil…can you beat that? Was it poor Mr Devil who unzipped his trouser, and pulled them down his two legs as he prepared to do battle on the bed with the sister?
Was Mr. Devil there when our brother’s one-eyed snake started slithering and hissing in sexual anticipation at the sight of the sister’s boobs?
Was it Mr. Devil that dragged him onto the bed and forced his turgid JT into the sister’s wet and eager-to-receive core?
When on earth will men…women…begin to take responsibility for their actions?
For every action, there is a consequence.
Stop blaming Mr Devil.
