I always see my neighbor’s wife sniffing my boxers, hiding and putting her hand inside her skịrt, anytime I dry my boxers on the general rope.

I always see my neighbor’s wife sniffing my boxers, hiding and putting her hand inside her skịrt, anytime I dry my boxers on the general rope.

So yesterday I decided to test something; I dropped a fresh one deliberately in front of her door and hid behind the wall to watch.

What that woman did to my boxers in that compound, in front of God and everybody, made me realize that my neighbor had no idea the kind of woman he married.

Let me rewind a little bit so you can understand my confusion.

My name is Femi. I am a young, single guy just trying to hustle and survive. I live in a compound with four flats.

My neighbor, Bro Kola, is the most innocent, hardworking man you will ever meet. He leaves for work by 5AM and doesn’t come back until 9PM.

His wife, Mummy Joy, is the exact opposite of what she does in secret. To everyone else, she is the compound’s chief prayer warrior.

But two weeks ago, I started noticing my underwear going missing from the washing line.

At first, I blamed the wind. Then, I blamed the compound rats. But one Saturday evening, I looked through my kitchen window and caught Mummy Joy red-handed.

She wasn’t just touching my clothes. She had her face buried in my blue boxers, breathing in heavily, with her other hand moving f@st inside her wrapper.

I was paralyzed with shock.

I couldn’t tell Bro Kola. Who would believe me? A single boy accusing a “holy” married woman? They would pack my things out of the house!

So, I set a trap.

Yesterday morning, I washed my favorite black boxers. Instead of hanging it on the rope, I walked past her door and purposely let it drop right in front of her doormat.

Then, I quickly hid behind the big water tank where I had a clear view of her flat.