Trepidation loomed large as we sat at the edge of the well varnished bed. Ten years into marriage, Collins and I remained childless. As we sat this particular night, I was as usual, sad and depressed. Nothing else was making sense any longer. My initial fits of anxiety had now ballooned into palpable fear. In this part of the world, the summation of marital success is in the birth of at least a child. This was a decade after, nothing was forthcoming. Collins and I had mulled every well known medical solution. We had visited the best fertility experts within the country. All had passed us both fit and healthy enough for a baby. Their medical verdicts weren’t just producing results.
“Cheer up babe,”, Collins’ voice was ever soothing. Collins was a remarkable gentleman. The same gentle, doting and soothing young man I had encountered some 15 years ago. We had gone on to date each other for five unbroken years before he finally proposed. Our love harboured the crosscurrents of a match made in El dorado. Childlessness was indeed not part of the initial script.
“ How can I babe? Its 10 years already”, I broke down in tears , overwhelmed by the tinge of doldrums that shrouded my senses.
At this point, it was not just about the childlessness. 10 years on, Collins was under immense and intense pressure by friends, associates and , most especially family members. His mother, Mama Grace, was already becoming impatient, irritable and glaringly disdainful of my present predicament. Although Collins tried hard to hide these things from me, the writings were on the wall. The fading, deigning responses of his mother to my pleasantries each time she visited got me worried.
It was in the midst of this turmoil that Hadassah came through. Hadassah is my workplace colleague. We once used to be in the same shoe of childlessness. But seven years after, from nowhere, she got pregnant. Hers was a miracle she claimed. She was well aware of my predicament. On a particular chit-chat at work, I revealed the pressure my husband was in. Her advice was clear cut
“Oh dear. I understand your plight. I know how it can be. However, I could link you up to the Prophet who prayed for me. His powers are incredible.” I discussed this with Collins. His response was supportive, though slightly sceptical.
That was how Hadasssah introduced me to Prophet Elijah. Prophet Elijah was a white-garment wearing, tongue- speaking Prophet who carefully adopted ecclesiastical and fetish methods for results. He was popular and highly revered for his speciality at helping childless women. I got his contact and reached out. He picked up, giving me directions on how to pay a visit. After some 45 minutes drive, there I was, ushered into a maze of hallways tinted with the aura of wealth and splendour. The pomp and grandeur altered my initial perceptions of a Prophet in squalor. The gold and glistening chandeliers; the endless retinue of aides; the garage of exotic automobiles and the embroidery of petals and leathers that dotted the doors and environs reeked of pure glamour. After wading through a maze of doors and floors, I sat, face to face with the prophet in what turned out his inner sanctuary.
The aura of the shrine was simple magical. The collection of bibles framed into a circular ring and the glistening lights and drapes of red decors gave the ambience a shrilling one. I was simply drawn in by the artistry and fecundity of the plan. This place, in beauty, and artistry, screamed a paradise of solutions.
“Haleellluuuuyaahhh….Hhmmmmmmmmmm….messssiaaahhhhh…Susan, your case is done”
“Bring your hand”.. Without hesitation, I placed my hand forward. The prophet took it in his. And that was all I remembered. He mumbled a few nothings, and asked me to open my eyes. My world changed. I saw and thought nothing else but the prophet. His words, his clean shaven beards, his imposing height yet simple frame and well-partitioned teeth all caught my now roving attention. Gradually, he pulled me closer and whispered into my ear
“With me inside you, you are going to have your baby”
My body frame charged as my temperature levels changed. He kissed my lips and I reciprocated. The reciprocation was instantaneous and ferocious. His luscious lips set the pace and my sumptuous body pondered to his directions. We kissed fiercely as he took complete control. Soon, his white cassock was off, leaving him in totally naked. His dick sprung to life, and took a commanding length
Prophet Elijah then undressed me hastily. My green gown was followed by my white underwear . Then off came my panties.
Prophet Elijah came in through the back, inserting the full length of his cock into my pussy. It was not just about the length but the breadth and depth of his penetration. I moaned loudly as he fiercely and unrelenting shot in and out. His load of cum was spilled into me minutes later. We went on two more rounds. I was totally drawn in by the excitement of our first round.
“Let us pray”, the prophet said, after rounds of intense sex.
After prayers, I was led back through the maze of hallways as I took my exit. Collins was home already to receive me. He made fried plantain with chicken and wanted to serve. He was surprised I told him I wasn’t interested. He asked how my prayers with the prophet went. I told him it went well. That night, he tried to make love to me. I resisted, claiming I was totally exhausted. That same night, I barely slept as the thought of the prophet’s dick pummelling my pussy rang free in my head. For two straight weeks, I saw myself paying unsolicited visits to the prophets for “prayers”. A month later, I began to feel nauseous and visited the hospital. My pregnancy test was positive. I was pregnant. Apparently, the baby was not Collins ‘
“This is a great day baby! Our years of loyalty and endurance have finally been rewarded. This calls for mammoth celebration”, Collins was over the moon as I shared the obviously incomplete news
I have been delivered of my baby successfully. He is bright and fair, with a curly hair that reminds me of only that of the prophet. Collins is having none of my admonition that we make the celebration low key. He wants a big bash. He has also requested that we invite the prophet who prayed to ‘make this happen’. He wants to give him an open appreciation during the christening ceremony. Although, Collins is not in any way suspicious, but just for now. Looking into this baby’s face suggests a reborn Prophet Elijah. It is only a matter of time the world begins to discern this….