Within the cavernous expanse of my heart, a relentless battle rages—a battle between the fervor of our forbidden love and the relentless pangs of guilt that gnaw at my conscience.

Freddy, with his intoxicating presence, weaves a spell around me that transcends the boundaries of societal norms. Our stolen moments of tenderness offer glimpses of a world where our love is untainted by the judgments of the outside world. And yet, in the quiet recesses of my thoughts, guilt lingers as a constant companion. Each day at 12 pm anytime we ask the workers to go on break is when we spend quality 1 hr having uninterrupted sex while workers are out on assignments and some on break. The emotions , the joy , the feeling , the oneness , I feel the world on my shoulder , the penetrations , the moanings , the blowjobs , the intimacy and the love laughs pushes me more to write this tale.

Guilt, not for the intensity of my feelings for Freddy, but for the turmoil our clandestine affair has sown within the sacred confines of our family. The weight of our secret presses upon me, a burden that threatens to crush my spirit under its unbearable weight.

My dad is a Man of God , and he has his own Church , the Conscious Chapel, he is by Gods Grace rich and all but one thing I know about my dad is he loves us equally and he doesn’t really care about our relationship as long as it makes us happy but the issue is the people around him , his church and his followers. They don’t want to understand why a man of God would choose to allow such thing go on in his household and he preaches otherwise , a quest to choose between your family at home or the family in the church.

The fear of discovery looms large, casting shadows over our moments of bliss. Every stolen glance, every whispered promise, becomes a double-edged sword, an exquisite pleasure tinged with the dread of exposure.

I, Asantewaa, grapple with the contradictions of my desires. The allure of our love, an ember that refuses to be extinguished, clashes with the moral compass ingrained in me by societal conventions.

As I chronicle our story, each stroke of the pen unveils the intricate tapestry of emotions that entangle my heart. Desire and guilt intertwine, weaving a complex pattern of emotions that leaves me ensnared in a perpetual struggle between my yearning for liberation and the weight of societal condemnation.