by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

I remember vividly the vigorous moans mother made each night she washes my small penis while bathing me. I was five then, very aware of the situation. I didn’t know the meaning of that action and I didn’t ask her. Except mornings I went to school, she preferred bathing me when I’m asleep. Each night, she would quietly come into my room and carry me to the bathroom. At times, I pretended to be asleep so I could have the bath and be free from her.

The night I couldn’t hold it any longer, I went into the toilet and locked myself in there. I never told anyone. My father didn’t stay at home. He travelled every now and then. I decided to open up to her, to let her know the disgusting sounds she made while bathing me and my discomfort for them. She was surprised because she didn’t know I noticed.

She stopped bathing me. I was relieved. But it didn’t stop. I still hear her moans – slow sounds she makes while taking her bath.

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