Charles Novia Writes About His First BJ

It was the fad in Benin City way back in my secondary school days. I attended the Immaculate Conception College and in my Year Three, I seemed to be the only boy in the testosterone-charged citadel who had not gotten a ‘BJ’ All the boys would discuss how they got theirs with gleeful descriptions and saucy jigs mostly ending their recant. I also noticed that such boys thereafter seemed to walk with a swagger or a new jaunt to their steps. Now, there was I, a very conservative kid, at the cusp of puberty, still in the ‘dark ages’ An innate shyness then towards girls was my secret battle. It wasn’t as if I was not ‘fine’ enough. On the contrary, I had been complimented with being a lad with teenage good looks by boys in school and sometimes their female friends from the nearby girl school but for me that was where it ended. And so, when most of my friends in secondary school were either discovering the pleasures of one emotional adventure after another, with some even going further to exploit the daring sexual adventurism of their nubile curiosity, there I was; still a prude but a pride to my folks. That was all that mattered to me then and it would all have gone on well for me, if not for the ‘BJ’ fad that crept into the scene! And I seemed to be the only one who had not yet had one! Somehow, I became the butt of jokes and I would hear a few sniggers from the boys who could clearly see that I hadn’t yet had a ‘BJ’. Soon, I couldn’t take it no more. I just had to have one.

And then she came along and that changed everything. Kay was her name. 14 years of age like me with ‘forget-me-not’ eyes and a pouting beauty, barely restrained by her hidden sexuality. I can’t ever remember how I got round to talking to her but we seemed to hit it off almost immediately that day at her school’s Interhouse Sports Competition. A couple of after-school ‘walk-dates’ later, she noticed I would always sigh involuntarily when I was with her and she asked me what was wrong. I had to stutter the truth to her. ‘I have been trying to get a ‘BJ’ for a while because the boys in school have made me the laughing stock’.I told her. ‘Why haven’t you had one?’ she asked. How could one answer that question, what with my ultra-conservatism shaped by a combination of Biblical morality and self-imposed discipline of not just doing things because they were the vogue. ‘Do you want to get one?’ she asked me in a very innocent voice. I could only croak an affirmative. Kay took my hand and led me through a dark alley in her street. I followed meekly. My heart was beating fast and alien sensations were dancing in my body at the feel of her touch. We came to the end of the dark alley. She turned to me and asked again. ‘You are really sure you want a ‘BJ?’ Won’t your mum be angry with you?’ She had a teasing smile as she said that. ‘My mum won’t mind, I’m sure’ I replied. Kay nodded and guided me out of the alley into a building which had a Barber shop, owned by her brother. Thirty minutes later, I came out all smiles with the then reigning ‘Brothers Johnson’ hairstyle on my head. All thanks to Kay!

If you are reading this and you thought I was going to talk about some other meaning of BJ, then you certainly need deliverance. Repent!

Hahahaha… Nice one Charles Novia

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