I was born the year the Evil Genius took over power from what was in itself an illegal but didactic government. The 10th of  March,1985 is the day responsible for unleashing this being , responsible for several heartbreaks ,abortions (foetal and dreams) and everything that comes with living the life of a hugely notorious Casanova. The legend of my promiscuity has been and will be told by mothers , shared by fathers (out of fear and envy) and dreaded by virgins .Still I was what every beautiful, classy and fast girl would love to go home with because they all wanted to see for themselves what their friends and my myth had told them. They probably heard I made the ladies sing high pitched, noise laden songs and yet beg for more while they groan for pain and pleasure in response to my fullness inside of them through every hole available in their bodies. I did sisters (I once dated four sisters at the same time) ,I dated friends most of whom enjoyed the sin of having to share a man with their friends especially if the said friend had been stupid enough to share my prowess between the sheets on the mattress or wherever. I’d admit I never had it going for not-so-beautiful girls , much older women and juveniles. I once read about a wannabe player who described himself as a veteran of the game  , I was more than that ,I was the game ,the typology of perversion itself. I did all of this for a long time until the age the world expected me to actually start…21 years after my birth  ,many things happened that signalled to me that : I either put a stop to the skirt ( oh and pants and of course jeans trousers) chasing dream or the chase itself would put a stop to my dream. Did I mention that I was learning to be a globally renowned actor (strictly Hollywood). The series of epiphanies got me reduced from a teenager who did sex virtually every other day to a young man who avoided it altogether . Today it’s been some 30months (78 weeks) since I last tasted the apple of lust , passion and sin. It’s been  some 13100 hours since I last travelled through the road to perdition (perdition for me because that was the path my old way was leading). In those thousands of hours ,I have had centillions of temptations from the opposite sex I never imagined them capable of . I did not know desperation had a face and a heart until I experienced the quests of not a few women just to have me get their backs on the ground and my chest on their breasts. I have been assisted by my resolution to keep off danger and the fact that once my mind’s made up , it would take something more  than just an experience I can describe in a myriad of ways to change my decision because for me there’s just no novelty with sex anyhow. I won’t go all spiritual by telling you I don’t miss some of that experience especially not having to hear the repetitive rendition of my name in a ring tone no diva  ,Beyonce ,Rihanna or even Celine Dion and the likes can render it, except they share the experience  of being lost in the thrust that brings about a certain feeling of fulfilment as they wriggle their backside to the symphonic movement of my physical demonstration of the orchestra, and I also miss the irony of ‘‘ No please’’ that always meant ‘’Yes please’’ as the shy ones try to excuse their obviously naked desire on my persistence.

The purport of this diary is not about what happened in my sex active days but what is happening now as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ,seeing the luscious holes yet denying myself of atleast one more shot. I have always believed only neophytes share their experiences of how they slept with thousands of girls ( I mean, why share what we all know and do ),so this is about what we all don’t do and it’s why I know my diary will interest you. This is for you only and I hope I can trust you not to share its content. This is the life of a celibate , albeit a once corrupted one. My name is Mario da Costa and I am a celibate…(Chapter One ).

 

 

PS: This is purely a work of fiction. Apologies to anyone with the name or some semblance of experience as the story  . This is a fiction!.

Japheth . J . Omojuwa  (cc)

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