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A friend of mine said : "Most Nigerian girls are boring in bed, and they have no imagination. All they do is lay down or finger. They can't kiss, eat pussy, or fuck properly. They are allergic to foreplay, and sexual playfulness. Fucking with them is an exercise in patience." What are your thoughts?

Nollywood actress, Nse Ikpe-Etim has revealed she won't be able to have a child for the rest of her life because she has no womb (uterus). While speaking at an event tagged “Conversation With Nse” in Lekki, the actress told her audience that three- years ago she was diagnosed with Adenomyosis, a condition whereby the inner lining of the uterus breaks through the muscle wall of the uterus. She said, “I was told I couldn’t have kids. And so, I had to have a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus) to make me have a life again and to stop going through what I was going through. And I’m literarily telling women and men, it really doesn’t matter if you can’t bear children. What really matters is what you would do for the world, for the universe.” Recounting when she was first told by the doctor that she would have to remove her uterus to live a normal life, she said, “Tears dropped and then my husband squeezed my hand. It was reassuring there was someone there and it was telling me that this is reality, my reality.” Speaking further, she revealed the ordeal made her fall into depression. “I didn’t think there was any point anymore because my society taught me that I have to be a mother to be appreciated and every time I went online, I would have one troll or two say ‘you never born? But I’m thankful that that didn’t break me. I’m thankful for Nollywood.” Source

Novelist, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who has lived in Lagos on and off for a decade has written an essay for Esquire's new Travel & Adventure issue, in which she reflected on life in Nigeria's biggest city, Lagos. Read below: Lagos will not court you. It is a city that is what it is. I have lived part-time in Lagos for 10 years and I complain about it each time I return from my home in the US — its allergy to order, its stultifying traffic, its power cuts. I like, though, that nothing about Lagos was crafted for the tourist, nothing done to appeal to the visitor. Tourism has its uses, but it can mangle a city, especially a developing city, and flatten it into a permanent shape of service: the city’s default becomes a simpering bow, and its people turn the greyest parts of themselves into colourful props. In this sense, Lagos has a certain authenticity because it is indifferent to ingratiating itself; it will treat your love with an embrace, and your hate with a shrug. What you see in Lagos is what Lagos truly is. And what do you see? A city in a state of shifting impermanence. A place still becoming. In newer Lagos, houses sprout up on land reclaimed from the sea, and in older Lagos, buildings are knocked down so that ambitious new ones might live. A street last seen six months ago is different today, sometimes imperceptibly so — a tiny store has appeared at a corner — and sometimes baldly so, with a structure gone, or shuttered, or expanded. Shops come and go. Today, a boutique’s slender mannequin in a tightly pinned dress; tomorrow, a home accessories shop with gilt-edged furniture on display. Admiralty Road is cluttered, pulsing, optimistic. It is the business heart of Lekki, in the highbrow part of Lagos called The Island. Twenty years ago, Lekki was swampland and today the houses in its estates cost millions of dollars. It was supposed to be mostly residential but now it is undecided, as though partly trying to fend off the relentless encroachment of commerce, and partly revelling in its ever-growing restaurants, nightclubs and shops. I live in Lekki, but not in its most expensive centre, Phase 1. My house is farther away, close to the behemoth that is the oil company Chevron’s headquarters. A modest house, by Lekki standards. “It will be under water in 30 years,” a European acquaintance, a diplomat in Lagos, said sourly when I told him, years ago, that I was building a house there. He hated Lagos, and spoke of Lagosians with the resentment of a person who disliked the popular kids in the playground but still wanted to be their friend. I half-shared his apocalyptic vision; he was speaking to something unheeding in Lagos’s development. Something almost reckless. So forward-looking is Lagos, headlong, rushing, dissatisfied in its own frenzy, that in its haste it might very well sacrifice long-term planning or the possibility of permanence. Or the faith of its citizens. One wonders always: have things been done properly? Eko Atlantic City, the new ultra-expensive slice of land reclaimed from the Atlantic Ocean, has already been mostly sold to developers, and promises Dubai-like infrastructure, but my reaction remains one of scepticism. I cannot stop imagining the ocean one day re-taking its own. My house had required some arcane engineering, sand-filling, levelling, to prevent the possibility of sinking. And during the construction, my relatives stopped by often to check on things. If you’re building a house you must be present, otherwise the builders will slap-dash your tiling and roughen your finishing. This is a city in a rush and corners must be cut. "Nigeria is to Africa what the US is to the Americas: it dominates Africa’ s cultural imagination " Lagos has an estimated population of 23.5m — estimated because Nigeria has not had a proper census in decades. Population numbers determine how much resources states receive from the federal government, and census-taking is always contested and politicised. Lagos is expected to become, in the next 10 years, one of the world’s mega-cities, a term that conceals in its almost triumphant preface the chaos of overpopulation. Nigeria is Africa’s most populous country — one-in-five Africans is Nigerian — and Lagos is Nigeria’s commercial centre, its cultural centre, the aspirational axis where dreams will live or die. And so people come. From other parts of Nigeria, from other West African countries, from other African countries, they come. Skilled workers come from countries as far away as South Africa while less-skilled workers are more likely to come from the countries that share a border with Nigeria. My gate man, Abdul, who has worked with me for six years, is a striking young Muslim man from the Republic of Niger, Nigeria’s northern neighbour. In his small ancestral village, Lagos was seen as the city of shining lights. He longed to leave and find work in Lagos. To live in Lagos and return twice a year with the sparkle of Lagos on his skin. Nigeria is to Africa what the United States is to the Americas: it dominates Africa’s cultural imagination in a mix of admiration, resentment, affection and distrust. And the best of Nigeria’s contemporary culture — music, film, fashion, literature and art — is tied in some way to Lagos. If Lagos has a theme it is the hustle — the striving and trying. The working class does the impossible to scrape a living. The middle class has a side hustle. The banker sews clothes. The telecommunications analyst sells nappies. The school teacher organises private home lessons. Commerce rules. Enterprising people scrawl their advertisements on public walls, in chalk: “Call for affordable generator”. “I am buying condemned inverter”. “Need a washerman?” Perhaps this is why corporations are not viewed with the knowing suspicion so common in the West. “Branding” is a word entirely free of irony, and people use it to refer even to themselves. “I want to become a big brand,” young people brazenly say. Big companies adopt state schools and refurbish them, they organise deworming exercises in poor areas, they award prizes to journalists. Even the too-few green spaces in public areas are branded, a burst of beautiful shrubs and plants defaced with the logo of whatever bank or telecommunications company is paying for its upkeep. This is a city of blurred boundaries. Religion and commerce are intertwined. Lagos has a Muslim population but, like all of Southern Nigeria, it is a predominantly Christian city. Drive past a gleaming modern building and it might be a bank or a church. Huge signboards advertise church programmes with photos of nicely dressed pastors, and on Sundays the city is as close as it can get to being traffic-free, because Lagosians are at rest, back home from morning service. Pentecostal Christianity is fashionable, prayers are held before corporate board meetings, and “We thank God” is an appropriate response to a compliment, or even merely to the question, “How are you?” This Christianity is selectively conservative, it glances away from government corruption, preaches prosperity, casts ostentatious wealth as a blessing, and disapproves of socially progressive norms. Women are to submit to their husbands. Hierarchies matter. God wants you to be rich. But it also unites Lagosians; people who attend the same church become surrogate families, and together they attend large vigil services more exciting than music concerts, where urbane men and glamorous women sing praise-songs deep into the night and in the morning return to their well-paid jobs in the high rises of The Island. In Lagos, ethnicity both matters and doesn’t matter. Lagos is ancestral Yoruba land and Yoruba is spoken widely, but it is also Nigeria’s polyglot centre, and the dream-seekers who have come from all parts of the country communicate by Nigeria’s official language of English and unofficial lingua franca of Pidgin English. Some areas are known as ethnic — the Hausa sector where working-class Northern Muslims live, the areas with large markets run by people from my own southeastern Igbo ethnic group — but none of them are affluent. With wealth, overt appeals to ethnicity retreat. One of the ubiquitous yellow ’danfo’ buses that cruise the clogged city Always Ready, Monochrome Lagos / Logo Oluwamuyiwa My cousin lives in a lower middle class area, heavily populated by Igbo traders. Once, on my way to visit her, the car stuck in traffic, a hawker pressing his packs of chewing gum against my window. Gabriel my driver of 10 years said to me, “Ma, your bag.” A simple reminder. I swiftly moved my handbag from the back seat to the floor, pushed it under my seat. My cousin was robbed in traffic on her way home from work, a gun to her head, her bag and phone taken, and beside her people kept slow-driving, face-forward. And now she has a fake bag and a fake phone that she leaves on display in her front seat whenever she drives home, because robbers target women driving alone, and if she has nothing to give them they might shoot her. My brother-in-law was also robbed not far from here. He was in traffic on a bright afternoon, his windows down, and someone shouted from the outside, something about his car, and he looked out of the window and back to the road and in that brief sliver of time a hand slid through the other window and his phone was gone. He told the story, later, with a tinge of admiring defeat. "To live in Lagos is to live on distrust. You assume you will be cheated" He, a real Lagosian who had lived in Lagos for 40 years and knew its wiles and its corners, and yet they had managed to fool him. He had fallen for the seamless ingenuity of Lagos’s thieves. To live in Lagos is to live on distrust. You assume you will be cheated, and what matters is that you avert it, that you will not be taken in by it. Lagosians will speak of this with something close to pride, as though their survival is a testament to their fortitude, because Lagos is Lagos. It does not have the tame amiability of Accra. It is not like Nairobi where flowers are sold in traffic. In other parts of Lagos, especially the wealthy areas on The Island, I wouldn’t hide my handbag in traffic, because I would assume myself to be safe. Here, security is status. Lagos is a city of estates; groups of houses, each individually walled off, are enclosed in yet another walled fence, with a central gate and a level of security proportional to the residents’ privilege. The estates not blessed with wealth lock their gates before midnight, to keep out armed robbers. Nightclub-goers living there know not to return home until 5am when the gates are opened. Expensive estates have elaborate set-ups at their entrances: you park your car and wait for the security guards to call whomever you’re visiting, or you are given a visitor’s card as identification, or you are asked to open your boot, or a jaunty guard walks around your car with a mirror lest you have a bomb strapped underneath. In a city like Mumbai, which is as complicated as Lagos, it is easy to understand why the expensive parts are expensive just by driving through them, but in Lagos one might be confused. Mansions sit Buddha-like behind high gates but the streets still have potholes, and are still half-sunken in puddles during the rainy season and still have the ramshackle kiosk in a corner where drivers buy their lunch. High-end estates still have about them an air of the unfinished. Next to a perfectly landscaped compound with ornate gates might sit an empty lot, astonishingly expensive, and overgrown with weeds and grass. live in Lekki and dream of Old Ikoyi. British colonial government officers lived in Old Ikoyi starting in the Twenties, a time of mild apartheid when Africans could not live there and could not go to the “white” hospital, and could not apply for high-profile jobs. Today, Old Ikoyi has about it that stubborn, undeniable beauty that is the troubled legacy of injustice. With its leafy grounds, and trees leaning across the streets, it reminds me a little of my childhood in the small university town of Nsukka, an eight-hour drive from Lagos: quiet, restful, frangipani trees dotting the compound, purple bougainvillea climbing the walls. And so I find myself wishing I lived in Old Ikoyi and mourning its slow disappearance. Gracious columned houses are being knocked down for tall apartment buildings and large homes with unintentionally baroque facades. “Beware of Lagos”, I heard often while growing up on the other side of Nigeria. Lagos was said to be a city of shallowness and phony people. There were many shimmering, mythical examples of this, stories repeated in various permutations, with the characters from different ethnic groups, and small details changed: the suave man who drives a Range Rover but is penniless and lives on the couches of friends; the beautiful woman who parades herself as an accomplished business person but is really a con artist. And who would blame them, those self-reinventors so firmly invested in their own burnished surfaces? "You can talk your way into almost any space in Lagos if you look the part and drive the right car" Here, appearance matters. You can talk your way into almost any space in Lagos if you look the part and drive the right car. In many estates, the guards fling open the gates when the latest model of a particular brand of car drives up, the questions they have been trained to ask promptly forgotten. But approach in an old Toyota and they will unleash their petty power. Snobbery here is unsubtle. Western designer logos are so common among elite Lagosians that style journalists write of Gucci and Chanel as though they were easily affordable by a majority of the people. Still, style is democratic. Young working-class women are the most original: they shop in open markets, a mass of secondhand clothes spread on the ground under umbrellas, and they emerge in the perfect pair of skinny jeans, the right flattering dresses. Young working-class men are not left behind, in their long-sleeved tucked-in shirts, their crisp traditional matching tunics and trousers. And so Lagos intimidates with its materialism, its insolence, its beautiful people. A young woman told me that when she was considering entering the Miss Nigeria beauty pageant she decided not to try out in Lagos, even though she lived there. “Too many fine babes in Lagos,” she said. And so she went to Enugu, her ancestral hometown, where she believed her chances were better. Young people complain of the dating scene. Nobody is honest, they say. Men and women perform. Everyone is looking for what is shinier and better. “Why do you choose to live in Lagos, then?” I once asked a young woman. Every time I ask this of a young person dissatisfied with Lagos, they invariably look puzzled to be asked, as though they assumed it to be obvious they would never consider leaving. Everybody complains about Lagos but nobody wants to leave. And why do I live here? Why didn’t I build my house in Enugu, for example, a slow, clean, appealing city in the southeast, close to where I grew up? "Lagos has a dynamism. An absence of pallor . You can feel it in the uncomfortable humid air" It is clichéd to speak of the “energy” of Lagos, and it can sometimes sound like a defensive retort in the face of the city’s many infrastructural challenges. But Lagos does have a quality for which “energy” is the most honest description. A dynamism. An absence of pallor. You can feel it in the uncomfortable humid air — the talent, the ingenuity, the bursting multi-ness of everything, the self-confidence of a city that knows it matters. The only real functioning Nigerian port is in Lagos, and business people from all over the country have no choice but to import their goods through there. Nigerian business is headquartered in Lagos; not only the banks, and the telecommunications and oil and advertising companies, but also the emerging creative industries. Art galleries have frequent exhibitions of Nigeria’s best artists. Fashion Week is here. The concerts are the biggest and noisiest. Nollywood stars might not shoot their films in Lagos — it’s too expensive — but they premiere them in Lagos. The production of culture works in service to Lagos’s unassailable cool. There are some things of conventional touristic appeal. The last gasp of Brazilian architecture in the oldest parts of Lagos, houses built by formerly enslaved Africans who, starting in the 1830s, returned from Brazil and settled in Lagos. The Lekki market, where beautiful sculptures and ornaments blend with kitsch, and where the sellers speak that brand of English reserved for foreigners. The National Museum with its carefully tended flowers outside the building and inside an air of exquisite abandon. The Lekki Conservation Centre, a small nature reserve, with bounteous greenery and some small animals. The first time I visited, with a friend, I asked the ticketing person what we might hope to see. “No lions or elephants,” she said archly. The highlights are the gorgeous birds, and the monkeys, and the sheer surprise of an oasis of nature in the middle of Lagos’s bustle. The nearby beaches are dirty and overcrowded but the beaches one reaches by taking a speedboat across the waters are clean, dotted with beach houses, and flanked by palms. The restaurants in Lagos are owned by a Lebanese “mafia”, a friend once told me, only half-joking. Nigeria has a significant Lebanese presence. They very rarely inter-marry with Nigerians, and I sense in some Lebanese employers a unique scorn for their Nigerian staff, but their roots in Nigeria are firm. They are Lebanese-Nigerians. And they own many restaurants, and their mark is obvious in the ubiquity of the shawarma. Young people go out for a shawarma. Kids ask for shawarmas as treats. There are, of course, Nigerian-owned restaurants. The chains with basic, not untasty food, the mid-level restaurants that dispense with frills and serve the jollof rice one might have cooked at home, and the high-end restaurants that labour under the weight of their own pretensions. There are quirky shops that cater mostly to a new Lagos tribe, the returnees: young people who have returned from schooling in the US or Europe with new ideas, and might for example suggest that a thing being “handmade” were remarkable, as though hand-making things were not the Nigerian norm. They represent a new globalised Nigerian, situated in Nigeria, au fait about the world. It is the breathing human architecture of Lagos that thrills me most. For a novelist, no city is better for observing human beings. On Sundays, when the roads are not clogged up, I like to be driven around Lagos, headed nowhere, watching the city. Past bus stops full of people with earphones stuck in their ears. A roadside market with colourful bras swinging from a balcony, wheelbarrows filled with carrots, a table laid out with wigs. Fat, glorious watermelons piled high. Hawkers selling onions, eggs, bread. In gutters clogged with sludgy, green water and cans and plastic bags, I imagine the possibility of a clean city. Lagos is full of notices. “This house is not for sale” is the most common, scrawled on walls, a warning to those who might be duped by real estate shysters. Near a mosque, where a fashionable young woman in jeans and a headscarf walks past, is this in green letters: “Chief Imam of Lagos Says No Parking Here”. From a bridge, I look across at shirtless men fishing on flimsy canoes. The secondhand books spread on low tables have curled covers, copies of Mastering Mathematics beside How to Win Friends and Influence People. On these drives, I think of how quickly fights and friendships are formed in Lagos. A yellow danfo bus has hit another and both conductors have leapt out for a swift fight. People make friends while queuing — at banks, airports, bus stops — and they unite over obvious jokes and shared complaints. At night, there are swathes of Lagos that are a gloomy grey from power cuts, lit only by a few generator-borne lights, and there are areas that are bright and glittering. And in both one sees the promise of this city: that you will find your kin, where you fit, that there is a space somewhere in Lagos for you. Source

An insight into the ordeals of an African generation constantly exposed to the trendy western liberal lifestyle in a socio-culturally undynamic society replete with homophobic and patriarchial discrimination . The two central characters, Charles and Amanda are millienials from diverse cultural backgrounds who face severe political, cultural and religious prejudices against their gender and sexual identity in a society where such discriminatory practices are supported by government laws and policies. Charles Oputa is the son of the disciplinarian and moralist. He is also the heir apparent to a multi-million dynasty. Right from childhood he was up against societal backlash against his perceived weird personality. Later in life, he has to take a decision between pursuing self identity or living up to his domineering father's puritan expectations. Belinda Ikeji, is an Afro-American daughter of a Nigerian immigrant whose claim to her late father's fortune is undermined by her paternal relatives' bias against her gender and sexuality. Their paths in life pitches them against morally corrupt hypocritical individuals whom the society celebrates. In a battle that may lead to death or imprisonment, do they back down or follow their hearts in the search for love and self identity. To get the book on Amazon, click here.

The Commercial Executive Director, Tropical General Investment Group, Dr Onyekachi Onubogu, has called on Nigerians to reduce their salt intake, saying too much of salt could contribute to liver damage. Onubogu said this in Lagos during the inauguration of a new seasoning cube known as Terra Cube, adding that seasoning and salt must be consumed moderately to avoid kidney disease, as well as high blood pressure. “I do not think the rise in kidney diseases has anything to do with seasoning, but one of the things Nigerians told us during our research is that they want less salt in their food. We have made sure that the salt content present in the new seasoning is minimal compared to what we already have in the market. “It is not about flavouring your food; it is about bringing out the best in it, health-wise and quality wise,” he said. Source

Get in here GOT fans. What are you looking forward to this season? Sucks that the show is ending!

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Sometimes lesbians want to find a wife with whom to run a small sheep farm in Wales; sometimes what we want is a hard wet fuck from a beautiful woman we barely know in the bathroom of a gay bar. We contain multitudes. But how do you make the latter happen? I bring to you cruising tips and casual sex advice built off the years of skanky queer life experience that have solidified me as one of the leading minds in the highly un-scientific field of “Lez Slut-ology.” The Basics What’s cruising? Cruising is going out into the world with the specific intention of finding someone with whom to have casual sex. If you message or approach someone just wanting to hook up, you are cruising. It’s a time-honored gay tradition and a rich part of our cultural history that forgoes respectability politics and homonormative assimilation in favor of radical expressions of queer sexuality. Cruising is knowing what you want and actively pursuing it. The term is thought to have come from queer folks walking or driving around town searching for a casual encounter. Though cruising has gained prominence as practiced by men who have sex with men, it isn’t theirs alone; dyke communities have also engaged in cruising and casual sex for years. Where do you cruise? I would recommend any events or settings where you know lady-loving lady hotties abound as a great place to cruise. This includes: + Dyke nights at your local gay bar + Pride + Dance parties + Brunch + A-Camp + A Hayley Kiyoko/Tegan & Sara/Mirah/Melissa Etheridge concert + BDSM play parties + A gay picnic + A book fair + NaijaLez So my golden rule is: “If there’s a hot gay around and you aren’t at like, a trauma center or a funeral, you can cruise there.” An elegant golden rule, I know. How do you cruise? Feel good about it! We live in a society that indoctrinates us into believing that having desires is predatory and shameful, and that women who desire women are even more so. I think another big part of it is that many of us have experienced predatory behavior and are very scared to replicate it. It’s not predatory to want someone and let them know it. It’s not predatory to desire another woman in a purely sexual manner. It’s only predatory if you are being disrespectful of someone’s boundaries, body, and personhood. So don’t do that. As for fears about being desirable or confident enough, remember that queer desire is complex and multifaceted and lots of types of people are attracted to lots of types of people and bodies; why not you! I suggest wearing something you feel really confident and hot in, that outfit that just makes you feel like the baddest bitch. And when all else fails, fake the confidence because we honestly all do that. Flirting Flirting is the first step of cruising and something I know many queers struggle with. I know many queer folx, especially women, feel frozen by this deep fear of rejection and getting over that is the first step to being a more confident cruiser. Being rejected doesn’t say anything bad about you or them and it doesn’t invalidate your gayness. I fear rejection too, but learning to accept it as a likely possibility has helped me become my best flirt and built my confidence in other aspects of my life. What is important is to not be objectifying in how you interact with them. If they aren’t into it, respect the no, move on, and don’t make it weird. If you’re approached by someone you aren’t into, try to handle it the way you would want to be rejected, say thank you and politely decline. My favorite ways to flirt with or be flirted with by women are to be complimented — find something you think is beautiful, stylish, or attractive about this person and let them know — and then having them get down to it — ask for what you’re interested in, whether it’s a number, a date, or getting fucked in the bathroom. Having Casual Sex How do you actually initiate casual sex? In practice: you’re out and about and have spotted a hottie, and have been flirting by complimenting them and chatting. Maybe this doesn’t go well; either they aren’t into it or upon closer interaction you aren’t as into them as you thought you were. That’s fine; chalk it up to the mysteries of life and move on. If they do seem equally interested in you, you can take the initiative! If it’s a setting like a bar, party or social gathering where you could feasibly say “Do you want to go to my place/the bathroom/my car/anywhere else we can have sex?” you can ask that! If you’re in the middle of a protest or drag queen story hour for kids at 10 am at the public library, maybe you want to ask for their number so you can make a similar suggestion at a more appropriate time — like getting someone’s info to ask them on a date, but focusing more on asking them “I think you’re really hot, do you want to come over Saturday night?” If you are trying to get fisted in your car in the parking lot of the bar — congrats! — maybe wear something you can slip in and out of easily. Once you get to actually having sex, you of course are aware it’s good to communicate basic stuff about boundaries and consent, even if it is casual. There’s no set list of things to discuss before sleeping with a stranger, but if it’s something like a medical condition, a boundary, or testing status, then definitely bring it up. Examples: “Hey just so you know, I have a latex allergy, so finger me with nitrile gloves.” “Please make sure you don’t touch my neck. It’s a trigger for me.” “How recently have you been tested?” “My partner and I have a rule about getting no marks from hookups.” “I don’t like gentle sex.” “I have been tested recently and my results came back positive for gonorrhea.” Source

The founder of Jesus Intervention Household Ministry, Ejigbo, Lagos, Chizemdere Ezuma has been arrested for allegedly sodomising, prostituting and infecting underage boys with HIV virus. According to The Nation, he was arrested at his residence after an informant notified the police he had resurfaced, three months after he was declared wanted. It was gathered that the suspect climbed his ceiling where he hid for over two hours to evade arrest when detectives stormed his home few days ago. The suspect was declared wanted after an alleged male prostitute, Prince Chinecherem, was arrested and charged to court after a 16-year-old victim, Anthony Ikem, made revelations that implicated them. Ikem, who was found sneaking out of the suspect’s home with a polythene bag containing used condoms and other items, was accosted by neighbours and he confessed he was one of several sex partners of the pastor. Ikem also confirmed that the Ezuma usually gave them to service some of his male clients including VIPs. The teenager was taken to the hospital for checks and it was discovered he was HIV+. It was gathered that some residents of the community were worried he was corrupting their male children and initiating them into the club, hence, their keen interest to see that he was arrested and prosecuted. Findings revealed that Ezuma was moved to the Gender Section at the Police Command Ikeja, yesterday afternoon, following pressure from certain quarters in the division to release him. In his confessional statement to the police, Ezuma claimed he usually paid the boys N2,000 for sex. Investigation showed that he brought about 15 boys into his apartment where he forcefully penetrated them all through the anus. “The reverend confirmed he is HIV+ and has been receiving treatment for over three years. So, he knew he was HIV positive and still infected his victims and clients with it,” said a source. Source

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If your girl's phone is broken, would you let her use yours for the day? Oya expose yourselves😂.

Eva Clitoral Massager Eva, a hands-free clit vibe, marries the aesthetics of a Pixar character with the sexual gravitas of an L Word character. The arms hug the lips of your labia while the ridge hits your clit, and it can be worn while somebody special is grinding against you or fingerbanging/intercoursing you. G-Spot Touch Finger Vibe “The first sex toy was the finger,” says the copywriter for this particular toy, revealing a deep primal understanding of lesbian mating rituals. “We’ve improved on that!” the copywriter continues, making a truly bold statement everybody here can appreciate. You can become your very own superheroine when you convert your fingers into android fingers capable of bringing your partner seven unique vibration patterns. SEVEN! If you’ve got your finger inside her, the textured pad at the base of the glove ensures her clit will not get lonely. “It literally feels like a vibrating extension of your hand,” the copywriter adds. I believe it! Fun Factory Sharevibe If you’ve ever been to a potluck you know that if there’s one thing lesbians love to do above all else, it’s SHARE. The Fun Factory Sharevibe lets couples share not only that lentil dish, but also that sweet, sweet vibe. One partner’s got the bulb inside them while the other is gently or mercilessly penetrated with control not possible with more traditional strap-ons. Our reviewer found the Sharevibe to bebest-suited for butch cock-sucking, noting, “there was no cloth harness to have to reach under, no hard silicone base to mess around with and no barrier between my mouth or fingers and any part of her. It was awesome.” Kinky Sprinkles describes it as “an amazing dildo that I have had so many super sexy nights with other female-identified partners.” Active Style Harness W/O Ring They look like traditional black boxer-briefs, ideal for lovers with a penchant for masc underthings who like to keep it simple and understated. But the surprise is that these aren’t traditional boxer-briefs, they’re A HARNESS! Plus they’re a harness you can wash in a washing machine, ’cause if everything goes right, you’re gonna get very messy. This strap-on harness is also a great option for trans women with penises who want to fuck their girlfriends with a dildo. We-Vibe Rave The We-Vibe Rave is a high-tech vibrator with ten vibration modes and a corresponding app. Lesbian couples are very often long distance, and the Rave enables you to take Skype sex up a notch when your girlfriend downloads the app on her phone and controls the vibrator from a million miles away. Thigh Harness A classic toy for lovers with specific access needs, this thigh harness enables your lady to bounce atop and rub all over your glorious, glorious thigh, possibly with her knee in a relatively convenient spot for you, and well who knows honestly what she can do with her free hands! You’re probably too distracted by the extraordinary view of her boobs! A world of possibilities awaits you, my fine friends. Clandestine Mimic Massager Picture this: you’re in a bathtub with your one true love, and you want to go down on her, but you can’t, because then you would drown! That’s where the Clandestine Mimic Massager comes in, enabling you to give your special somebody an oral-sex-esque experience while remaining face to face, above water, head in the clouds like a silly love song. It’s rechargeable with eight vibration speeds and is designed to fit right into your hand. nJoy Pure Wand As Lara the Sous Chef famously told Dana Fairbanks, female ejaculation is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s actually one of the best things ever! The nJoy Pure Wand gave our reviewer her best orgasm ever, and what’s more romantic than that? The Shi/Shi Union Girl Vibe At last we’ve come to our Ultimate Lesbian Sex Toy: designed by a lesbian who truly loves to scissor, the Shi/Shi Union is the first vibrating pleasure device designed specifically for female couples. Two contoured orbs, attached at their base and controlled independently by remote, smash right onto your vulvas and between your interlocked legs for scissoring sensations that’ll send you soaring into a sapphic sex solar system. Source

So you have a harness, a dildo, and enthusiasm. What’s next? A strap-on blow job can be part of foreplay, a main sex act, or part of cleanup. No matter where it fits in, build excitement by making out, grinding against each other, dirty talking, or whatever your sex pregame usually looks like. If you’re the one giving the blow job, start by being a tease with touches that get close to or lightly brush over the strap-on, without really engaging with it yet. When everyone is ready to go, move into position and go to town. “An easy way to start is by slowly licking up the shaft and around the head of the dildo. It’s hot and useful, since more saliva makes everything glide smoothly. You can also use this in between sucking and stroking with your hand if you need a break or more lubrication,” says FemmeCock. Then, take the strap-on into your mouth. If it’s long, or if you don’t want it too deep, wrapping your hand around the base can keep it from going too far back in your mouth and can give your partner a firmer surface to grind against if they want one. Resist the urge to bite down to control the depth — the dildo won’t notice, but your teeth will. Then, start to move slowly, and build up to a rhythm as you pay attention to your partner’s responses. A lot of your focus will probably be on the dildo, but don’t forget about your partner’s body. “Bring one of their fingers into your mouth right alongside the dildo so they can feel exactly what you’re doing. […] Reach for their body, hold their hands, grab their thighs, involve their butt or whatever is under the strap on, if they like that. Use your hands,” says Sexsmith. If your partner is into vaginal or anal penetration and is wearing a harness that allows for it, you can finger them during the blow job. Start with fewer fingers and add more, use lube if you need it, and use the same rhythm with your fingers as your mouth for extra bonus points. Finally, remember that the best strap-on blow jobs are noisy and messy and embrace it. “Noises are inevitable and can enhance the experience, since strap-on blowjobs rely on sights and sounds, so don’t be embarrassed of slurping or sucking noises. You can also add more intentional sounds, moaning intermittently to show you’re enjoying what’s going on,” says FemmeCock. How To Receive A Strap-On Blow Job If it’s your first time receiving a strap-on blow job, spend some time in advance getting used to wearing the strap-on. “Think about it as part of you. Touch it yourself, get a sense of its edges and shape and weight and size. Let it become part of your body’s proprioception,” says Sexsmith. Then, in the moment, try to relax and concentrate on what you see and feel. Stay present and connected with your partner via touch. Try resting your hand on their shoulder or stroking the back of their neck or the side of their face, but don’t grab their head, pull their hair, choke them, or more forcefully fuck their mouth unless you’ve discussed it. Use sounds or words to let your partner know they’re doing a good job, check in by asking questions your partner can answer by nodding or making a noise, and let your partner know what you’re into. “It can feel like a lot of pressure to have someone watching you go down on them, so it’s important to let your partner know they’re doing a great job through sounds or verbal affirmation. Make sure they’re on the same page as you by asking questions that can be answered with a gesture or short response, like ‘how’s that’ or ‘are you enjoying my cock?’ Communicate what you want and like; if you find something to be super hot, you can say things like ‘that feels so good’ or ‘I love when you go a little slower,’” says FemmeCock. Use non-verbal expression, too. “The way a lover can tell that you like things is by your movement, sound, and breath. Let those things out,” says Sexsmith. Source

If you regularly load up your grocery cart with a variety of veggies, you could be well on your way to a healthier and longer life. But which ones should you reach for? Recent research has shown that dozens of vegetables pack a particularly big nutritional punch. Sneaking them into your daily diet couldn’t be simpler. Watercress Often overshadowed by arugula, this peppery green can knock any dish into nutritional shape. It’s particularly rich in vitamins A, C, and K, and other antioxidants that are good for you. Cooking tip: Watercress can instantly make sandwiches and salads more lively and fresh-tasting. Or blend the greens into pureed soups. Red bell pepper You think of it as a veggie, but it’s actually a fruit. One medium pepper delivers B vitamins, beta carotene, and more than twice your daily need for vitamin C. Cooking tip: For a fanciful main dish, cut the tops off peppers, remove the inner white membranes and seeds, and then roast until tender. Finish by filling with your favourite whole-grain salad. Spinach This green has healthy amounts of vitamins C, A, and K as well as manganese. Working 1.5 cups of green, leafy vegetables into your day may lower your odds of getting type 2 diabetes. Cooking tip: Sneak spinach into your daily routine by adding it to scrambled eggs and casseroles or blending it into smoothies. Swiss chard Two main varieties of Swiss chard are found on store shelves: one with multicoloured stems and veins, often called rainbow chard, and another with white stems and veins. Both are great sources of lutein and zeaxanthin, an antioxidant duo that’s good for your eyes. At only seven calories a cup, the green giant is waistline-friendly, too. Cooking tip: To preserve its nutritional might, lightly steam chard and toss with vinaigrette. You can also use the leaves instead of tortillas when making soft tacos. Collard greens This Southern favorite contains a wealth of nutritional goodness, including notable amounts of vitamins K and C, folate, and beta-carotene. To boost your daily nutrition, aim to eat about 2 cups of dark, leafy greens like collards every day. Two cups of raw greens is equal to 1 cup of vegetables, and 2.5 cups is recommended daily for a 2000-calorie diet. Cooking tip: Quickly blanch the leaves in boiling water, then chop them and add them to whole-grain or lentil salads. Asparagus With an earthy-sweet flavour, asparagus is a good way to load up on folate. Research suggests that this B vitamin is an ally in the battle against high blood pressure. Cooking tip: Shave raw asparagus with a vegetable peeler. You’ll get ribbons that are wonderful in salads. Broccoli Broccoli is one of nature’s rock stars. It’s a top source of natural plant chemicals shown to help lower the risk of some cancers (though many other things also affect your cancer risk). Each cup of the florets also gives you plenty of vitamins C and K. Source

Ladies, will you make with or pass…?

Copied Oya rep your package o...lol.

Would you a) Make out with b) Take to Dinner c) Kiss d) Pass

Which two NLers would you say make a good couple? Let's matchmake and have some fun.

Which one will you 1) Take on a date 2) Propose to?

Ladies, is this right? Sentiments aside. Should discrimination be allowed in the house of God?

Let's play - Do you prefer using a dildo or bullet or both? Why would you pick one over the other?

Everyone is dying to know this one very important question: Why are lesbians so perfect? We treat women how they deserve to be treated, many of us are vegetarians because we wouldn’t dare hurt another living thing, and the great majority of us worship, adore, and obsess over dogs. Okay, it’s settled! We are perfect! Put your hands up for lesbians! Okay, now that we know why lesbians rule the world, let’s discuss why we love dogs. As a dog obsessed lesbian myself I’ll prove just why us lady lovers like fur babies more than most, and no, I’m not talking about a vagina (although that’s a great name for a vag). Lesbians Are Extremely Empathetic We’ve had it hard. We’ve had to battle our confusing sexuality. We’ve been told our relationships aren’t as valuable as heterosexual relationships, and some of us have even been rejected by our families. We’ve all felt lost. We understand hardships. That’s why many of us can’t stand the thought of a lonely dog, scarred and scared in an animal shelter. Ever heard of Ellen DeGeneres? Yeah, she gets it. We Love Cuddling Show me a lesbian who doesn’t love cuddling and I’ll show you a liar! Honestly, I personally love cuddling more than anything. I love cuddling more than sex. Okay, that’s not necessarily true – but some days it sure feels that way. Dogs are the best species because they will cuddle all. damn. day. Kisses and cuddles: the way to a lesbian’s heart. (That might be the future name of my memoir). Dogs Give Unconditional Love Sometimes having to prove oneself is hard. We have to prove our love, our success and our sexuality. It’s a lot. Dogs don’t give a sh*t about any of that. A dog will always welcome you home whether or not you’re gayer than a softball coach dancing at an Indigo Girls concert. Come home with a femme, a dyke or a dude and your dog will never judge you. Well, maybe about the dude – but probably not. Dogs Bring Us Joy Whether you’re a gay man or a woman, being queer can be tough. We all have days when being different isn’t always fun. It can hurt deep and it can bring us down. Dogs lift us way up! They make us feel special, bring us companionship and most importantly, make us smile. Dogs bring light and love into any household and we love them for it. Kids Are A Lot Why bring kids into the picture if your relationship is already flawless? I can’t speak for everyone but my relationship feels great without children. That feeling may change in the next five or ten years but for now, I feel fine without the stress of a child. Also, what if I give birth to a straight, white male? That’s terrifying! All jokes aside, kids are great but dogs are generally better. A dog will never be embarrassed or ashamed of having lesbian moms either. Dogs most likely understand the great privilege of being raised by powerful lesbian moms. Although I don’t know any child embarrassed of his/her lesbian moms, it could happen and that deeply scares me. Although all types of humans worship dogs, nobody knows the bond between a lesbian and her dog. Don’t believe me? Come over to my house and see for yourself. Source