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I met him at midday. It was hot as hell in Mombasa, and there was no way I was walking from Equity to Cannon Towers, a 10 minute walk in normal circumstances…ah, who am I kidding? I never walk in Mombasa. So I did the usual and got into a matatu, right next to the conductor. My mind was on my work and I only concentrated as far as to pay the conductor and my mind went straight back to the paper work waiting for me at the office. “Hallelujah!!!” He was drunk as a skunk! It’s a testament to how preoccupied I was that I hadn’t smelled the reeking body next to mine! Dragon breath redefined! He was exhaling fumes that could only be a potent mixture of keg, naps, kibao, flying horse and whatever illicit liquor college boys poured into their mouths those days. “Ghai! Si you’re a beauty! Konda! Nini mbaya na wewe? Mbona hukuniambia mrembo ameingia kwa matatu?” Ah! Not a native then? A Nairobian is allowed such bad manners when at the coast. I graciously accepted his compliment with a quiet asante. ‘The whole matatu’ was staring, nodding at his assertions that I was the prettiest girl he’d met in Mombasa. Not one to shun the limelight, I smiled at him, flashing my perfect set of not-so-pearly whites. I was being nice this being Pwani, besides, there’s no way I was ever seeing this drunk again. Ha! He got off at the same stage as me and watched me walk into the building, ass waving goodbye as I walked. He was outside waiting for me when I left at 5 that day. Clean, sober, smelling so good I could have eaten him for breakfast, lunch and dinner (parts of him anyway ;-)) . His name was Johnny and could he take me out on a date? Most definitely! For a drunk, that boy sure cleaned up nice! Tall, light skinned, cute and as later proven by conversation, not as dumb as the stereotype suggests. He was fiiiine! So fine I knew immediately none of my girls would ever get introduced to him. He had a loyalty reducing kind of fine-ness. The fisis that my girls are, apana, we’d just end up sharing him. A few dates and he was giving me butterflies. The first time we kissed? Magic! In public, on an estate walk way in Tudor Four, with mathes staring at us, judging, envying. First time we did the nasty? In public! At the beach, doggie style. Snuck behind the perimeter walls of one of the beachside mansions at Barracks beach. His dick!!! My God!!! Huuuuge! Turned out he lived in Ganjoni, 5 minutes from my office building! I happened to be reading Summer Camp by Nick Scipio, erotica king extraordinaire, at the time! I was horny 24/7. Do yourself a favor and Google that book. You won’t regret it. I couldn’t get through a chapter without going to his place to relieve the umm…tension. In a variety of positions. And he never disappointed. That guy was a stud!!! There is 4 books in the Nick Scipio series, each with 24 chapters, that’s 96 times we did it, and he didn’t cum. Not even once. I can’t even tell how long he could last because I always gave up after cumming twice or at around the 40th minute. I had to break up with him. I was going to get addicted to that dick! 96 times in 2 months isn’t normal behavior. Didn’t want to end up doing the Esther Arunga and being a slave to some phallus! He looked for me for months then disappeared one day. Poof! Like a whiff of smoke. I concluded that Johnny was the devil come to lure me into sexual addiction. That experience left me convinced that the name Johnny is magic. There’s a reason it’s associated with pervs. Whores call their customers ‘Johnnies’? No? The dick on Johnnies is laced with some ancient witchcraft. Only a few can successfully wield the power that comes with that Johnny phallus. And it can never be tamed. That said, every girl needs a Johnny experience. It’s healthy to know how much good sex is too much. Never try to husband a Johnny though. Hiyo ni kujitafutia mashida tu.   N/B: If you know a Johnny that does not live up to his holy name, send him to the registrar’s office ASAP! He should be stripped of it and given to one that is more deserving. A misnamed Jimmy perhaps…
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On the first day in my new school, I was not happy at all. I was in Form 3 and tasked with starting all over again; making new friends, adjusting to new rules, and worst of all, sleeping in a dormitory for a whole term. I had been expelled from my previous school, a day school, for selling weed, allegedly. I just couldn’t snitch on the actual owner. He would have hunted me down and killed me. No doubt. As I was coming to terms with my new situation, I saw her. Mrs. K, I was later told, was her name. She walked into the classroom and I was completely taken. Her face was full of laughter lines, and her lips moved seductively as her shrill voice spoke in an ethnic accent I could not really place. Her hands looked slightly rough, but her smooth arms showing in her sleeveless top looked as supple as butter. Her curvy body was a distraction to every boy in class. Every time she turned her back to write on the board every head would nod, as if in agreement with the bubbling movement of her buttocks in her tight skirt. A large part of every day was spent fantasizing about her. I would stare shamelessly at her every time she was in class. I waited for her to walk past my desk so I could smell her sweet perfume. My biggest fear was being asked to stand in front of the class at those moments. There was nothing on earth that could hide the bulge in those flimsy school pants. And nothing could hide the reason I was in that state… Some evenings, while the rest of the school was attending night prep, I would sneak into the bathrooms near the dormitory for the only ritual that could relieve my sexual tension. I liked this location because nobody would walk by until 9pm. I took off my clothes and hung them on one stall and moved to the next stall to light my joint. This was simply to keep the smell of weed off my clothes in case I met anyone on my way out. In a stoned haze, my mind would wander to Mrs. K, and the visions of her naked would be crystal clear and urge me to touch myself. I imagined her bending over the teacher’s desk as I took off my pants to reveal my hard dick which I would proceed to push gently inside her. I imagined her shrill voice screaming in ecstasy as I pleasured her. “What are you doing?” I was so stoned, her voice in my head sounded like she was right next to me. “You, open up!” A loud bang! She was knocking on the door with my clothes hanging on them. Shit. She was never supposed to walk in here. Nobody ever walked in here at this time. “I know you’re smoking bhang! Open up!” She was banging madly at that door when I stepped out of my actual hiding place. She let out a loud gasp as I stood before her. My dick was engorged and veins popping out. Her eyes were fixed firmly on it. She suddenly spoke with less anger. “What are you doing in there?” I didn’t answer. I took a few steps closer to her. She was still not looking anywhere else. I was right next to her. Her head was bowed low. She was still looking at my erect penis like she was surprised by it. I ran my hand down her upper arm, it was as supple as I had imagined. I grabbed her hand firmly and it felt rough, yet capable of tender actions. I placed it on my raging erection and she gasped again. She finally looked me in the eye and smiled, her hand gently stroking my hard on. I was possessed at that moment. I pulled her into the stall and bent her over against the wall, hiking up her short skirt and pushing her panty to one side. The smell of her perfume mixed with the aroma from her wet pussy hit my face and I forgot to even lock the stall. I thrust myself inside her and heard that shrill cry. It was even better than I could have ever imagined. A few wild deep thrusts and I could feel myself getting to the edge of a thrilling climax. She reached back and pulled me in deeper inside her pussy. At that moment my eyes closed shut and I could not help it. My knees went weak as I felt my cum shoot inside her and she let out one final moan. The rest was a blur. I stood there like a brainless creature as she took off her panties and used them to wipe her pussy, and shoved them into the pocket of her little skirt. She mumbled something about focusing in school and walked off, I didn’t really care. I had learnt everything I needed to.  
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