The Assumption 

      Enveloped in a sense of physical elation, he kept wondering what the so-called blood of Jesus had really done for him. He had always believed that the power of sin and thoughts that could easily lead to sin had been nailed to the old rugged cross long before he joined the stream of people whose emotions had been stirred expertly by the orator who gave the sermon at Wood Street some months back. He was told that sin had lost it’s dominion over him and he had believed it without reservation yet his current euphoria is an antithesis to this assumption. He knew how quickly he used to yield to the whims of her mesmerizing presence with all his senses battling for the first to be gratified and his brain straggling some safe distance behind them, waiting for his soulish desires to be satisfied before reminding him of the endless lessons he was taught in New Converts class. 

He could feel his blood overflowing it’s banks,  demanding that he create a path that it could travel with this newly acquired escape velocity. The only thought that seemed valid to him at that point was to cast and bind evil spirits but the softness of her body which rested on his kept beckoning for a touch. Just one touch was all he wished for. She turned her head, making her mouth directly in front of his only but a few inches. He felt like closing the gap between their lips. His mind was done with the creation of what the aftermath would be yet he remained still and wordless like the statue of liberty yet his freedom from sin at that point he questioned. He tried to push her away but sensual feeling he got as she moved her body left him with the appreciation of how badly he had longed for such a moment of wonders. She had offered him a pot of honey that his senses were bent on eating. He tried to fantasize how the last time between them had been. She was not just skillful, she was willing to try out new things. She had given him a taste of heaven. He could only see himself grappling the mounds on her chest with one hand and the Other hand traveling round her in brownian motion. She moans, sticking closer to him than she had been. 

He could not afford to call her his Delilah at that point, she must be the angel sent by God to end his wars of wakeful nights he tried calming his battling lust only to get routed before the stars travel back to their domain. He could not remember the number of times he asked God to solve this problem only to leave his bed early in the morning to soak his undergarment soiled in different shades by his semen. 

Her arrival that evening was an opportunity to prove the superman he has become in Christ. He thought that his starting to pray once it was 10pm would dispel all the evil intentions she had and serve as a gateway to her salvation and the new life he now enjoys. He went back to his old life. 


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