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All my life I had dreams of going to Nairobi like most of my older cousins. I had seen photos of how great the buildings looked, and I was told the smell of money fills the air. Most of all, I heard that the women there were the most beautiful you could ever see, and they loved rugged farm bred young men like me. I knew I would enjoy it. The 14 seater shuttle flew into a dark tunnel and interrupted my daydreams. We were on the wide smooth road from Thika, and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in my native part of the country. It was raining a few minutes when the shuttle stopped at its Nairobi booking office and we alighted. The rain must have sent the beautiful women scampering to save their hair; I’d heard that about them. I walked down the street to find a place to shelter from the rain before I could figure out how to get to my cousin’s place. That’s when I looked up a stairway right on the pavement and my heart almost stopped. There were many women standing there talking. They all had hair that seemed like it should never be rained on, and they were dressed in ways I’d never seen. I saw short skirts that exposed soft inner thighs. Tight pants that exaggerated the roundness of enormous behinds. Tiny blouses that had enormous breasts almost bursting out of them. I knew I would have to take a closer look. I wasn’t as naïve as most villagers on their first day in town. I knew I had to be careful. I grasped my bag tighter and put my hand in the pocket that had the 200 shillings I had left, then I made my way up the heavenly stairway. The first lady I passed looked at me like she could read my thoughts. She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her, as if she wanted to shove my whole body in between her cleavage. I broke free and took a few more steps towards the top, with all their eyes now on me. I quickly made it to the top of the stairway. As quickly as I could while fighting off all the hands trying to pull me in their direction while others made quick dips in my pockets. Someone blurted out that they should let me be since there was no money in any of my pockets, and this filled the whole stairway with laughter. At the top, the doorway opened up into a large hall filled with low tables and wooden benches. All these were filled with mostly men, some of whom stared a me the whole time as I made my way to an empty corner. The air is thick with cigarette smoke but the smell of stale, spilled beer and the nearby bathrooms still managed to fight through and assault my nose. Even before I sat down, I was promptly joined by a young looking girl who put her hand around and my shoulder and asked me if I was ready to pay for a room. I was startled. I wasn’t sure what was going on. Even before I could find my voice, she had shoved her hand underneath the table and grabbed my slightly evident erection. I became permanently speechless as she gave me a long talk about how much fun we would have at a price I couldn’t refuse. My weak protests were met with a few insults. I couldn’t understand city talk too well, but she said something about village boys not knowing a good thing when they see it. By this time, her hand had already been successful in undoing my pants’ buttons and zipper. She shoved her hand in there and grabbed my now completely erect dick adnd looked at me straight in the eyes. “Nunua kitu nikunywe basi!” she barked. I pulled out the hand that had been in my pocket the whole time and placed the 200 bob on the table. She took it and waved it to the only waitress, who came over and placed a beer in front of the lady who was now vigorously stroking my dick in her hands. She took a gulp and turned her attention to me again. I was enjoying it so much I could barely hear her talking. Her rant was soon cut short by my cum shooting out and spilling all over her hand. I let out a grunt of pleasure and collapsed backward leaning on the wall, my eyes closed and my lips formed into a smile. She wiped her hand on my pants and asked me to pay up because she had other work to do. What? I was listening now. She was looking at me with murder in her eyes. I tried to explain that all the money I had was spent on that beer. “Haukua unaskiza? Nilikuambia ukimwaga unalipa!”

Minx, Twitter Story
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FacialKnight, Nymphomaniacs
As the most qualified member of the male species to offer them representation (quit giving me the side-eye lads) I’m here to re-negotiate our contract ladies. It has come to my astute attention that some of my brothers have been subject to the most gross of human sexual abuse. The kind that hasn’t been witnessed ever. Yes, even since we realized dicks and pussies were bff’s. Ladies, I thought we had called a truce. Did we not agree to live in peace, strip each others clothes off and boink like bunnies as a sign of prosperous times? I even signed the peace treaty, look on the dotted line, the semen isn’t even dry yet. Granted some of my brothers have been acting like neanderthals, but the punishment must fit the crime. But no, you had to go ahead and unleash on us the plague, best known as Nymphomania. It sounds like a dream come true, doesn’t it gentlemen! A girl who is always horny, all the time! The fire brigade couldn’t put out the fire in her pussy if they tried. Always ready for another round, always wants your dick in her mouth, and her pussy on your mustache! Need some vaseline guys? She is the complete opposite of the normal lass who has to be coaxed with sweet nothings and lots of money, into sex. Acting like we super-glued that vagina between her thighs purposefully to spite her. Always has a headache. If your chick has a regular headache, get that girl a CAT scan or get the f*** out, she don’t want none from you! Or bonyeza ushinde a lifetime supply of painkillers. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, and according to Spartacus, the Romans loved to fuck. The nympho was sent to earth to serve the interests of a male species whose brains gorge on sex and the female form. Or, were we sent to serve her? A friend of mine started dating this girl who was sexy as fuck! Her eyes just oozed “come fuck me” and her ass was so round, I swear it had a horizon. She made us drool! Lucky bastard. After a few weeks of hitting it, we started to notice he was always sleepy when we hung out. Eyes half closed, struggling to stay awake. At first we urged him to stop putting in so many hours in the office, all work and no play you know.Then one day he just spilled the beans. That she was fucking him too much. Like the old RnB songs, she actually made love all night. Was she was going for a world record? She wanted to fuck at noon, at 6 p.m, then at night – fuck from 10 p.m till morning. Then repeat! Everyday. Fucking, fucking, fucking. I got exhausted just listening to him. Some of the other guys looked like they’d just had sex on his behalf. You know it’s bad when your friends have that post orgasm yawning after your sex tale. We all looked at him with the pity befitting an Arsenal fan after a game with Chelsea. At some point he came close to asking her, “Wewe nani amekutuma! Rudi umwambie siko!” We saw his obvious distress and advised him that this was a three man job. That he should search for two of her exes and if he could only find one that would have her back, then he’d just have to dump her. Yes, I realize our clique isn’t exactly the Einstein Brain Trust, but what else were we to tell him? I personally thought he should man up and die an honourable death, inside a vagina. And be buried there too, save us the funeral costs. No one’s going to truly mourn any man that dies in pussy anyway. Lucky sod! Ladies, whoever in your camp came up with the nympho idea, needs a raise, a lifetime of gratuitous oral sex and a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. Apart from it being an act of terrorism, it’s a stroke (hehehe, stroke) of genius! If a man spends most of his time having sex and working, when will he have time to chase other skirts, or drink himself into a stupor with his boys? A man’s mind is surprisingly single tracked. Either we are getting money, or getting fucked. When we take a break from getting money, we want to enjoy it by using it to get us laid. That’s where the dating and prowling for girls in bars falls in. However, if there was to be an abundant source of good sex, anything else would struggle to get a time slot. So that idiotic 90 day rule is best used to wipe the mud off your heels ladies. To all prudes, prim and proper girls who have “class” and also not forgetting the migraine enthusiasts, please, open your legs and your mouths so that you tire this man into submission. Do you think you have the time to go through a pond of frogs to get prince charming? Turn the peasant into royalty. Fuck him to an early grave, give him a warrior’s death.