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FacialKnight, Fantasy, Thriller

Her size 38E Lime Green bra hang on her full breasts, even as she pulled the straps down the sides of her arms. A small giggle escaped her lips, the light caress of the bra fabric against her nipples tantalizing her. She had looked forward to this the whole day, when she would peel off the body-hugging dress and tend to the throbbing that emanated from between her thighs.

She threw the bra on the floor, it landed next to the mountain of clothes that she’d been meaning to wash for the last two days. Sitting on the edge of the bed,she slowly slid her panties down her Rose tattooed thighs. The wet blotch in the panties’ crotch was visible to the eye,evidence of how moist her pussy had gotten. Sandra lay back on her back, her legs spread eagle, giving her fingers access the wet mound. She dipped her middle finger into the honey pot, the wetness greeting her touch as she spread it around her Clit. She did so again, this time much deeper, he finger rubbing her G-spot. She curled her finger and ran it over the small roughness, the sensations racing through her entire being.

With closed eyes and sharp focus on the wet knob between her legs, Sandra’s breath quickened with every motion her fingers made. Small moans filled the stillness of her room. She could feel it rising, that sweet pressure in her pussy,begging for release. She gripped her bedsheet, her other hand trembling in anticipation. Her succulence dripped from her pussy, down in-between her ass cheeks and on to the bed. Sandra’s Orgasm tore through her torso with her hips raised off the bed, her moans now guttural noises, testifying to the pleasure that coursed through her body.

She collapsed in a heap, of satisfied human flesh. Panting, struggling to catch her breath,an effortless smile forming across her lips. The dying embers of her Orgasm seemed to make her legs feel as if they weighed a tonne, rendering her immobile as her bedroom door was flung open by a very tall figure that lunged at her. Sandra’s scream barely made it past her tongue as a strong hand muffled it. In the corner of her eye, she saw the gleam of a knife, nestling just above her left clavicle.

“There, there Sandy. Can I call you Sandy?”

Terror glazed her eyes. He knew her!

“I’ve been watching you, I feel as though we’ve been friends forever. But you’ve been a very, very naughty girl haven’t you?”

Sandra shook her head in desperate disagreement. Her silent cries pleading with her assailant.

“SHUT UP WHORE! I’ve been watching you defile your sweet body. You’ve been fucking them all haven’t you? Phil, Maxwell, Sammy. Oh, you thought I didn’t know? You swallowed Sammy’s seed in your mouth while he was seated in that chair over there”

Tears streamed down Sandra’s face at the realization that she’d been in his crosshairs for a long time. How long had he been watching her? Why was he watching her? Now that he was her, what was he going to do?

“You young girls think you’re so special. Opening your legs to every boy with a hardon, instead of saving it for marriage. Your virginity is supposed to be a gift to your husband, you slut! You don’t deserve a husband, and you’ll never have one”

He moved his hand from her mouth to her neck, choking her firmly.

“ Please,don’t..don’t do this! I’ll give you anything you wa…..”. Sandra’s words got caught in her throat as the large blade was plunged into her rib-cage. In her final moments, she could feel her trachea being crushed under his murderous grip.

Her heartbeat faded, into the stillness of the night. Life slowly draining from her once beautiful eyes.

(3 DAYS LATER,in a news report)

“And in other news, a Woman’s dead body has been discovered in Umoja Estate in what seems to be series of murders being dubbed by the public as The Shaming Killings. The three previous victims have been found in the same manner,disrobed and with the word “SLUT” carved on their stomachs. The DCI couldn’t be reached for comment at this time. And now for the Sports Bulletin”

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FacialKnight, Marriage, Real Life Stories, Relationships, Secrets, Twitter Story

I’m having a very hard time getting a Domestic Help for the house. Juggling our jobs, while taking care of the baby and house chores is quite stressful. I am glad I’m in good company, as I found out that many Men out here are also looking for a Domestic worker, they just prefer marrying one.

Seriously dude?

I have serious concerns about this generation. We are the most technologically and academically advanced generation, to date, in  the history of our nation but our Social nous is straight out of the dark ages. Our conscience is in a proverbial sate of Jekyll and Hyde. Capable of tremendous innovation but plagued by an antiquated sense of morality.

It’s quite the puzzle don’t you think? Allow me to explain to you why such a forward thinking generation can be shamefully backward. It  is because we pick and choose what to advance and what to store in the attic along with Cow hides and Magic potions

You see, Kenyans love status. They love anything that gives them an edge over the next person. When someone goes to school and masters their field of study, they are held in high esteem. That’s why we refer to each other in professional terms. Daktari, Wakili, Engineer, Boss. It sets you apart from the rest of the herd, makes you feel special. The same goes for our various cultures. Can you imagine if everyone was made equal in our traditions? No man would ever thump his chest by virtue of what dangles between his legs. There would be nothing to give Men an edge over Women. That is why no matter what postmodern era we are in, people will always gauge a Woman’s inherent value by her ability to carry out domestic tasks. Tasks which, going by our own cultures, are beneath Men.

I remember reading somewhere, that Men  were taught many things, except how to deal with empowered Women. To an extent, this is true, how many times have our Aunties/Uncles asked our Ladies to tone down their overt shows of financial independence all in the name of “Nani atakuoa ukifanya hivo”. Lets not forget the famous Christmas Carol “Bado hujatuletea mtu?”Followed closely by the smash hit “Utaosha aje sufuria za mtu wako ukieka hizo kucha?”

Understand though, the aim of all this demarcation of labour with domestic work being the sole jurisdiction of women, is to safeguard the fragile Male Ego. In relationships, women who give in to this social order do so to avoid heartbreak. You see, there is always a stronger, more handsome, richer Man eyeing your Woman and if you can dull her beauty and power by reducing her to your mboch, then the competition won’t see her. 

“A Man who marries a beautiful Woman, is like the farmer who plants maize by the roadside”

Most Men see it as a matter of inevitability that she will be stolen or taken by a much more deserving Man! The Male ego is a trip!

Ukweli tu usemwe, wa kukuacha,atakuacha. Akue kwa shamba ama Business Class ya British Airways na hakuna kitu utafanya mjamaa.

Taking the above into consideration, don’t you think it’s incumbent upon you fellas, to make sure your Woman is firing on all cylinders? Don’t you want to the world to see that you bagged a sexy as hell bombshell? I love when a Woman is the best version of herself, when she is following her dreams, when she looks and feels her best, when she is truly happy. Men crave the loving of a good Woman, not realizing that what makes her good is meeting her full potential. 

As Men, we need to ditch this archaic bullshit and cultivate relationships based on Honesty, Respect, Understanding and Love because those are the qualities that will outlast any traditional notion you might have.

Now, harusi tunayo!??

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FacialKnight
It had occurred to me that probably the reason most people had unfulfilled sex lives was not because they didn’t know the Kamasutra by heart, or they didn’t have a subscription to Pornhub, it was because of their feeding habits. Oh, you didn’t think that your creamy vagina was depending on what you put in your mouth? (not a penis for christ’s sake).
Sex is like a sport, you need to be well practiced, well rested, well exercised and most importantly, well nourished. Our Generation, though, is married to KFC, with Pizza Inn as the mistress and Kenchic as the rachet ex girlfriend. We feed our bodies trash and this reflects in every part of our lives, then we wonder why ours is a sexually frustrated nation.
So, for your next meal, order some food that will do wonders for your bump and grind. Salads and leafy green vegetables dilate blood vessels so that your genitals can easily be engorged with blood for arousal. This will enhance your prospects for a healthy clit and a harder dick. Unsweetened Tea will also help in blood flow. I emphasize on unsweetened because excessive consumption of sugar prevents the production of endorphins which make you depressed. Nobody wants to have depressed sex! Fruits, especially citric ones improve sperm count and motility.
So, if you are planning on having a family or adding on to the one you already have,stock up on the oranges and peaches (and Huggies,your kid wont shit on Orange peels). Now for the fun foods! Watermelons and Pineapples make sperm and vaginal fluid adapt their tastes! Yes! Imagine eating her pussy and being met with the taste of Del Monte! I will stay there for an extra half hour!! I dare say it will also eliminate the fear Ladies have of swallowing cum. It will be easier if it has a hint of Watermelon to it, won’t it ladies?
So what have we learnt today kids? Eat your veggies and fruits, then proceed to eat out your partner! Dig in, Lunch is served.
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FacialKnight
Yeah I said it! Waswahili wasema “Mtoto umleavyo ndivyo akuavyo”. Would it be a surprise, if I told you that hakuna aliye tulea? Our fathers were busy plundering loot that they’re answering for now. Most of them were not at home long enough to realize there was a boy in there that needed to learn how to be a man.
 
 I have many female friends that happen to be single mothers. Each one with a harrowing story behind their current status. Testimonies to the beasts or cowards, Men have become. Though men have always been beastly, the one thing you could admire from our Fathers was their code of honor. If a man impregnated a lady, chances were he’d take care of her, openly or in secret but he’d do his part. How many funerals have you attended where a “New Family” appears to mourn the deceased man? The first Wife learns that her Husband had another family tucked away for decades? The present day boys won’t be in a Woman’s bed long enough for cum to dry, he nuts and boom, arathie akiumaga!
 
But this cowardly behavior is not restricted to the boudoir, even when men do manage to get into a Marriage or position of responsibility, they manage to fuck the pooch. In Game of Thrones, during the marriage ceremony, you are asked to cover your bride with a cloak. Signifying your protection over her. That is your job in that matrimonial home, a protector. How many Women know where their Men are this very moment? Some go days without seeing their husbands. Sometimes going to look for them at the nearest pub or the small SQ they’ve rented for their clandestine university lovers, to drag him home by the scruff of his lipstick colored neck just so the kids can see their Father. What is a home without its sworn protector? 
 
I do understand though, why Men tend to run away from responsibility. We have been born into a world we’ve been told we’re the masters of, a world which we have to lead. Leadership is a daunting prospect for many a lilly livered man. I do counter though,  that since we do enjoy the fruits of being men, like being considered for job and promotions, civic leadership, honorary positions, ahead of women, we must also take the bitter parts too. As long as we’ve relegated Women to always been a rung or two under us, we must behave like the Kings of the Hill that we’ve proclaimed ourselves to be.
 
This means fathering that child, being a husband to that Woman and a proper one at that, no one held a gun to your head to put a ring on it. Treating all women with respect and decorum, they are someone’s Mother or Daughter. If you are unable to do these things, then don’t have unprotected sex if you don’t want kids, don’t get into relationships you can’t manage. You need sex? We have Prostitutes
(Sex work is still work✊)
 
It really costs nothing to be a decent pile of flesh and bones.
 
And above all, quit being such a shit nigga, damn! 
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FacialKnight, Fiction
image The pelting rain diluted his steady stream of tears. The crowd dispersed after the casket was lowered. He was left standing there alone. His were a concoction of emotions. He was devastated after the loss of his Father, a man he’d idolized his whole life, the one who had taught him how to ride a bike, how to make a woman smile and most importantly, how to be a man. His admiration was threatened by the news that had emerged soon after his father’s passing. An unknown woman had showed up at their home, alleging to be his wife. He’d always found such situations hilarious! Kenyan funerals were littered with such occurrences but to have it at your doorstep was to rub salt in an already festering wound. it wasn’t funny at all. The proof was in plenty. Joint bank account statements, holiday photos, most painfully, some items of clothing that the deceased’s wife had bought him on many of his birthdays. ‘The times he was away at a company retreat in Nyali must have been spent with her,’ Mason thought to himself. His sister took it hardest of all, the perfect picture of her hero, tainted. He was human after all. His mother, sort of always knew. At a certain age that intrinsic female intuition became as good as a forensic report. But she loved the man he was, a husband, a provider, a monument to his kin. His shortcomings were of little consequence to her. He was the star-crossed love of her life. Mason stood there in the rain, wishing it would wash away the smut, and the leave that loving memory, that he was desperately trying to hold on to. As the last of the cars exited the cemetery, Mason willed himself to walk away from his father’s grave. He didn’t want to accompany the family back home. He wanted, he needed to be by himself and gather his already wandering thoughts. He walked to his car and got in. The one place he thought of heading to first was Mo’s, a small lounge in the Business District. A double shot of a 12 year old Macallan would do him good. He also remembered that it was Saturday, Jazz night. Leonard and his band, did a wonderful rendition of “Over the Rainbow”. Eager to balm his injured soul with drink and song, Mason turned on the ignition. The vintage Mercedes 190 series roared to life, his tail lights disappearing into the now torrential rain. He was understandably a million miles away in thought as he entered the lounge, because he didn’t see Kamau, the bouncer nod at the bartender. He sat at the counter. The music from Leonard’s Sax wafted through the dimly-lit ambience of Mo’s lounge. He was jolted from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find the tall figure of the lounge’s proprietor, Mo stretching out his hand to greet him. He shook his hand. “I was saddened to learn of your father’s demise Mason. I lost my father two years ago, so I know how you feel. Pole sana. ” “Thank you Mo” Mo motioned the bartender over. “Kasee, tonight Mason’s drinks are on the house, sawa!? ” ” Sawa boss”, Kasee replied, at once reaching for the top shelf where all the premium stuff sat. Mason nodded in gratitude at Mo. Grief had a twisted way of bringing the best out of people, as Mo had never exchanged two words with Mason, but had empathized with him as though they were inseparable from the same womb. Mason sipped his whiskey, the oak notes caressing his taste buds as the warmth trickled down his throat. The evening crowd wasn’t a large one. Jazz had a distinct audience, the unassuming patron who came for the art, not the noise. The real cool kids. He stared into space, memories of his father reeling in his mind like one of those old silent Hollywood movies. For every tear that teetered at the edge of his eyelids, he took another swig. In his peripheral, he saw the next bar stool move, but he couldn’t be bothered tonight. “Johhny Walker Gold label, neat” image Mason turned to look at the person who had ordered the drink. He’d never heard a lady order such a sophisticated whiskey. Most dames were busy chugging Guarana like there were keys to a Range Vogue at the bottom of the can. The once over he usually gave girls, wouldn’t fly here. She wasn’t one to have a gander at once. The thing that caught you off guard was her eyes. Large, almond shaped eyes, her irises like large brown marbles floating in milk. The pouty lips looked like they were always begging for a kiss, Angelina Jolie would be green with envy at these. Her biker jacket was open, her breasts peaking out of a low cut T-shirt. Even though she was seated, you could make out that her derriere was ample enough to bring tears to a donkey’s eyes. Her hips were thick, raring to rip through the seams of her denim pants. For a fleeting second, his sly dog instincts took over. The growing bulge in his pants reminded him that even in times like these, the comfort of pussy was a welcome distraction. “Gold Label huh? The only gold most women know, they wear around their necks,” Mason spoke whilst staring into space. She looked at him and smiled. “I’m not surprised you said that. You look like the kind of man who thinks he knows women.” Mason chuckled. Feisty girl! He now shifted in his seat to have a clear look at this sassy lady, who he now put squarely in his cross hairs. “My name is Mason”, he stated, offering her his hand. She looked him dead in the eye for what seemed an eternity, then calmly shook his hand. “My name is Sawyer” And so it begun. image
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FacialKnight, Real Life Stories
Happy New Year to all you purveyors of boner inducing, clit tickling literature!! Can’t wait to see what 2015 has in store, or if you’re in Ethiopia what 2008 has in store (poor bastards, as if traveling back in time wasn’t hard enough). During the Christmas period, in a humanitarian effort to aid your blossoming relationships, I had sex. Lots and lots of the stuff. Sigh, I know. Tedious thing that. I humped, spanked, licked, sucked all for you guys (group hug) It all ended the same way in numerous occasions, lots of calling the good Lords name, emptying of seminal fluids, changing the sheets and tears. Same old, same old. The thing with relationships though is bae is sort of obligated to fuck you. It’s an obligation if unmet, would result in them getting your orgasms from another source. So at some point, you become a chore to your partner, they have to fuck you or you’ll fuck their friend or worse, leave. As if that wasn’t enough, since you bring more than genitals to the relationship, ie money, they also have to suckle your knob to keep you around. That holidays in Zanzibar won’t pay for itself, get on you knees little girl. Put a dick in ya mouf! That isn’t good enough for me though. I have an ego large enough to butt fuck a Dinosaur, I am no one’s chore! I decided there must be a way to make sure bae isn’t thinking about which bracelet I’m going to buy her for Christmas instead of screaming her brains out for me not to stop during coitus. Took the usual route, watched more porn, read more articles, talked to my female buddies, and in all those inquiries I came across three vital pieces of information. First, women produce a hormone called Oxytocin when they orgasm, scientists call it the “bonding hormone”. Meaning when they orgasm, they feel closer to the person that made them cum. Second, women love being spoilt, dotted upon. Why do you think they are obsessed with being princesses, the attention and care royalty receives. Third, women love bad boys. Bad boys are conquerors, they ooze raw power and distinction, they are man in the purest form and nothing excites a woman more than a powerful man. The conundrum was, how was I going to incorporate those pearls of wisdom into my dick game? The first was a given, you have to make your woman cum. Apart from pissing, this is the sole use for your dick bro. I had that covered. I was however skeptical about the other two. You can’t be Mr. Lovey Dovey and still a Ruffneck at the same time, or so I thought! A female friend of mine regaled me with tales of how she bathes and feeds her conquests after sex! Fuck! I know man! That’s some Japanese Geisha shit right there! Then the next morning, she tosses the buggers out onto the street in the wee hours, when it’s still dark out! The poor sod is so confused because no other woman treats him that way, so he keeps on coming back for more. Reward and punishment in equal measure, does things to the human brain you couldn’t possibly conceive. It germinates a craving for approval from this person whom you first deem worthy, then unworthy of your affections. Unfair, but effective. I decided to put this trick to the test, after all, science demands an experiment. Started with the bracelet (yes, I bought it) then sat through her favourite girly series that I always refuse to watch. Made her a few cocktails (is it just me or does that word make you want to go put some cock into some tail). When we got to the bedroom, I was down for some Miguel and Alejandro shit! French kissing the pussy, slowly, working that kitty tenderly like I was prunning the wings of an Angel. Toe sucking, caressing and soft whispers of “I love you”. Strokes were easy, orgasms gradual. I was going to get a Nobel because I left that girl at peace. After a small break of pillow talk and tickle fights, round two beckoned. This time was more like the Desolation of Smaug! Ass grabbing, deep thrusting! Shit went from 0-100 in the twitch of a clit! The back shots were so real, I was going to call a lab to do forensics afterwards! Pulled that hair and dug her face into the pillow, her muffled screams urging me deeper and harder. Before she knew it, she was trembling and digging her nails into the sheets. The second time she came, she took my nut with her! I pulled out, didn’t say shit, wrapped a towel around my waist and left her twitching on the bed. Went to the living room and turned on the playstation, then won the Dutch league with FC TWENTE. Bawse. Moments later, she came to me with a ham sandwich and fruit juice. That’s what I’m talking about!!! A round of hi5’s are totally acceptable here gents. This may seem like a case of manipulation, and it probably is, but in every relationship there has to be an Alpha. It’s not even wrong if the Alpha is the girl. That’s cool. But lust is an irreplaceable component in a romantic relationship. You have to cultivate that lust, it doesn’t come that easy! It’s 2015,a new year, a time for new realizations. So, are you a bawse or a bitch? *Drops Mic*
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FacialKnight, Threesome
She took another swig of the beer bottle. I had never seen a girl down Guinness that fast. I hate Guinness. She finished. I ordered another for her. Even the waiter was aghast at the display of alcoholic machismo at our table. I didnt care much for her. Damn i didnt even know her second name! I wasnt attracted to Evelyn. She had a limber figure. ‘A’ cup boobs and nothing to boast about at the derriere. She was like a boy to me. I tolerated her for one sole reason, she was to be the third wheel to my Rickshaw that night. Oh, incase you dont speak “literary genius”, I mean Evelyn was going to join my girl and I in a threesome. Yes fellas, a round of hi5’s is totally acceptable. I dont have the historical nous to tell you when the first threesome took place, but if Spartacus, the TV series, is anything to go by it’s been happening for centuries! You, and two females, or three guys, or three females, or the devilish two guys and a girl. It comes in any manner of scenarios (no, a tryst with a hermaphrodite doesn’t count). The point of a threesome is the more the merrier. If you have ever been in one you can attest to the fact that if executed properly, it is orgasmic on an infinite level akin to nothing your base senses can ever comprehend. So, after drinking and dancing and threeway kissing on the dance floor (yes, that happened), I suggested we ditch the joint. We got into a mat and 10 minutes later we were in my girl’s house. The tension in the air was palpable. We all knew what we were here for. They disrobed and took my clothes off. I asked them to dim the lights, as I was sure I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool after I saw what they were about to do. Evelyn laid my girl down and parted her thighs. She started kissing her lady lips slowly, then she asked me to enter her from behind. I had like 10 condoms! I put one on,and slid right in. Her pussy was so tight! Good thing the Scotch whiskey i was high on had dulled my senses. I wasn’t going to cum soon. My girl had started moaning, she started trembling as the waves of ecstasy took her higher. Evelyn was also about to explode, they did so simultaneously. My ego was the size of an Elephant’s nuts at this moment! The girls decided it was my turn. Evelyn removed my condom and took me in her mouth, I could feel the back of her throat. Her head game was criminal! I started drawing breath, to pace myself. I whispered to her that i wasn’t going to melt in her mouth. She put another condom on me, pushed me down and straddled me. It wasn’t long before her back was convulsing and arching. image Her second orgasm brought on that fast by the eroticism of it all. My girl sat on my face and she too rode my tongue to a mind numbing climax. image The thought of two women cumming was enough to send me over the edge! We all lay there, spent. Puling off a threesome is basically rocket science. Women don’t like to share.That night, I was the one who was invited to the act. Had I initiated, I would’ve been accused of being unsatisfied in our relationship by my girl and also of being attracted to Evelyn. Back then most people would’ve have had to pay for a threesome, I was lucky. But times are changing. Nowadays there are sex parties, girls are more adventurous, people are coming out of the closet in legendary fashion and campuses are a den of inequity of biblical Sodomic proportions. Its a new age. I for one recommend a threesome. If not simply for adventure, then to spice up a stale and ageing relationship. We are human and it is human to want to experience something new. Keep plenty of condoms, willing participants and of course girls named Evelyn that guarantee that is Rickshaw one hell of a ride!
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FacialKnight
The Californian assembly has passed a law that requires all performing actors in the adult entertainment industry to wear condoms. This was passed after aggressive lobbying by an Anti-AIDS NGO. They argued that the porn industry exposes participants to a high risk of AIDS and other venereal diseases. Understandably this has driven down production, forcing production companies to relocate to neighboring Las Vegas which has less stringent laws governing the adult entertainment industry. It seems porn actors are not the only ones shirking from prophylactics, just last week a survey determined that girls between the ages of 15-25 don’t use protection during sex. Driving up sex related infections at a deathly rate. I’m not baffled. Not at all. Have you ever had sex? Unprotected? If you haven’t, let me give you a sneak peek. When your dick is enveloped in her fleshy folds, and her wetness coats your phallus, you will know unbound ecstasy. When you grab hold of her thick hips as you disappear into her plump ass and she trembles from pleasure, that will be the moment every sinew in your body will shoot into the stratosphere. That is unprotected sex. I understand why these American porn stars are miffed. They get to screw some of the most beautiful and sexually-wanton women in the world, why would they want to ruin that with a condom? Porn is hard work, try NOT cumming when screwing two Latino bombshells for an hour straight! They might as well enjoy it without a rubber if you ask me. I have no qualms about having sex without protection, my concern is though, is it worth it? The world has changed. Its a far cry from the free love age of the 70s. We are victims of our era. AIDS, Chlamydia, Syphilis, Gonorrhea, and most recently Ebola. These are the assailants of our private parts in the quest to have an orgasm. These have killed scores upon scores. How are we to win this war when these diseases are attached to the human sexual instinct? Its not like we can have it surgically removed. Some have medication, the most dangerous ones don’t. Preventive measures are the next best thing. Chief among them, condoms. Our American porn heroes are against condoms because they have stringent testing measures put in place. They must be tested every two weeks! Reputable porn production companies won’t let you work without proof of testing. Save for a few isolated incidences of infection, they have largely been successful. For the rest of us, that is a measure we have not adopted. Yet we are the first ones to drop our pants in the dark alley behind the club for the hot guy who could Skelewu better than Davido, without asking if he has a condom. Ours is a generation come of age. While the Western nations had centuries to come to grips with their sexuality, we have just arrived at the realization that Sex sio tambia mbaya as our beloved parents led us to believe. Couple that with the ever expanding reach of the Internet and we have ourselves a combustible population ready and willing to do anything to get off. Diseases not being the only by-product of condom less sex, unplanned pregnancies are also in tow. Giving birth to another generation that won’t be taught anything of value by the preceding one, paying directly for the sins of the father. And the vicious cycle continues. Tupac Shakur, thug-extraordinaire spent most of his life running from the police and dodging rival gang bullets, and even he wasn’t oblivious to the dangers of not wearing a condom. Rapping “Pack a vest (jacket) for your Jimmy in the city of sex” on the song California Love. Its been over two decades since his demise and you can tell safe sex isn’t a Noughties fad. It would be such a shame to lose your life, indulging in something as mind blowing as sex, and anyway, even a pencil has a rubber on its tip.
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FacialKnight, Rape Culture
The only place that didn’t have these incidences posted on them was probably on the back of cereal boxes. The videos were everywhere. Social media outdid itself in this regard. You couldn’t switch on the internet on your phone without having your WhatsApp notifications going off the hook.We have been subjected to all manner of emotion. Anger, pity, apathy, abject disbelief, at the scenes of women being stripped and sexually abused with such fervor that you would be excused if you thought that this was our national past time.I am ashamed to be a man in this country. I hang my head in embarrassment, only to lift it begrudgingly and have a wee look at the horizon, hoping to find an answer in the amber sunset of human decency in our nation. After the protests, hash tags and reluctance of the government to take a stand on the matter, we are all still left wondering, where this beast emerged from or whether we have been housing it all along. A couple of weeks back, I was in a debate with my sultry partner in crime, Minx. She was of the opinion that most men have an innate violent predisposition towards women. She pulled out the stats, quotes from victims, a very compelling poem. It was a very spirited argument. Though I saw the sense in her statements, I was quick to counter that it wasn’t all gloom and doom, that some men are evil the same way some are good. She wouldn’t have it! In the end, we agreed to disagree. A couple of days later, the first stripping took place. Then another followed, this one more fatal as the victim lost her life.I called up Minx and apologized. She was right. Are we the barbaric nation we have been portrayed as? Or is there something a miss? I contend that we are in this cesspool, because we are a very sexual nation but are trying our best to deny it. As a country, we are on the verge of being over sexed. Look in the dailies, not a day will pass without some thick-assed girl posing as the new It Girl in town. Our news presenters are more models than they are anchors. When I’m watching the news, I wonder what is more breaking, the news or the anchor’s bra straps as it struggles to maintain that cleavage. Porn is sold “chini ya maji” by those guys still selling 50-in-1 DVD collections. Lets wander into social media, if you’re a girl and your avi doesn’t scream “Impregnate me!”, guys are unfollowing. They don’t have time to waste bundles on grandma panties and below the knee hemlines.Schools are closed for the year. I cant step out to go to the shop, without having my neck turned by a 15 year old, very buxom girl dressed like a statutory rape charge waiting to happen.The music scene just sells sex like peanuts on the road, the only difference is they now cater to the ladies too. Cue six-packs and gyrating male hips. With all these sexual scenes bombarding our eyes and loins, it’s lost on me how we don’t walk around masturbating or with dildos sticking out of our vaginae. Its a mad house! I’m not going to stand here and preach water then sip Guarana, I’m a big fan of naked women. I support their skin movement, wholeheartedly . What I’m finding increasingly tedious, is the insistence of this society to promote the sexual liberation on paper and in deed, then turn around and scream that it goes against our core African traditions! Tradition?? I think you misspelled “Hypocrisy”. Our Forefathers dressed in skins and furs. The ladies walked around half-naked. It’s only when the white man came into town that we were taught to be ashamed of our beautiful bodies. Our fathers were spot on with the nudity. They placed a higher value on the character of a person more than what garb they chose to cover their genitals with. Those stripping women in the name of guarding our values, please go jump off a cliff, and leave me the parachute. Had you done what you did last week,during the olden days, you would be skinned alive and your skin used to make a skirt for the aggrieved girl. Some men are unwilling to admit that a new age had dawned upon us, but are more than willing to reap the fruits. They’ll pay for a prostitute, stick their dicks in anything resembling a vagina, leer and spank any ass in sight. The only way they would be able to do things like those is because Women have decided to take their sex lives into their own hands. They aren’t bogged down by what a patriarchal society has outlined for them. We aren’t going to make better opportunities for the girl child to learn, become a Wangari Maathai or a Margaret Kenyatta, have her travel to distant lands and fly our national flag high so that she can come home and be told what to wear and whom to fuck. A long frock doesn’t a saintly woman make, and a micro mini doesn’t relegate a girl into the depths of whoredom. Its 2014,we are putting space probes on comets, we have a black man in the most powerful office on earth and I can dial-a-diaper!I think it’s time we came out of the closet. It’s OK to be horny. It’s ok to want to have sex indiscriminately with whoever you please. Coitus doesn’t turn you into Hitler, and being aware of your sexuality don’t make you any less African.It also looks like we don’t have much of a choice anyway but to adapt. The brutal scenes last week, scream of a male population obsessed with the female body. It arouses in them such feral desire, and since they don’t know how to express themselves in a more appropriate manner, they finger and spank the stripped woman under the pretext of safeguarding morality. Everything about a man is designed to please a woman: the strength to protect her, the mouth to talk to her and make her feel beautiful, his courage, to woo her. Even our dicks fit snugly inside her, all to please this queen. And as servants to royalty, we have failed our liege and disgraced the kingdom. A woman was formed from man. So you can’t hate women, because it ultimately means you hate yourself.
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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.
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