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Around election time 2013, an older girlfriend of mine invited me to her place for dinner and drinks. Except for two that had come as a couple, the rest of us knew no one else there apart from the host. What made it worse for me was the fact the everyone there was older than me, and looked it. I was ignored but didn’t really mind. Besides, I was there primarily to cook the biriani stew they were about to consume. They’d talk to me eventually. The chicken was delish, the liquor flowed, enough passion fruit martinis and tongues loosened considerably. What had started as an awkward evening of people talking niceties and exchanging business cards turned into a rowdy party of people competing, exchanging crazy stories in their loudest voice and making extraordinary claims of sexual prowess, most aimed at the young pretty thang in the room, me. So many stories were told! Too many laughs. Many lessons lessons were shared. It was an extraordinary evening. I took it all to heart and proceeded to forget most of the details of that night. Only one story remained with me. It was neither funny, nor inspiring. It was in fact, downright disheartening. Let’s call him K. He was gorgeous and despite looking 25 was actually 20 years older. The sight of his 2nd issue ID card brought shock to all our faces. He became the alpha at that point. All of us realized that no story we could ever tell could compete with his vast experience. We shut up and proceeded to be awed by how nasty the 80’s really were. We laughed and laughed… The story that chilled me to the bone was one from his teenage years, when he was still in high school. Starehe Boys’ to be specific. There was a function in their school and they were excited! Girls everywhere! Their preferred girls’ school was Pangani. He was, young, horny and ecstatic. There was no way he’d ever find the confidence to talk to any of them but their very presence would fuel his wet dreams for the two months before their next school holidays. A few hours into the function and he had a chance to sneak out of the school hall. He met up with a friend that had two girls in tow. Showing them the rounds. He joined them but he was too quiet. Not the perfect wing man. His friend suggested they pass by his class and they picked up a few more hangers-on. 5 boys in total and only two girls. K’s heart plummeted. There was no way he was getting near any of the girls at this point. Listening to them talk, hearing their ringing laughter would have to be enough. On they walked until the ring leader suggested they go see some isolated part of the school. The rest agreed. K went along. They got there and the ring leader asked them to cover him. He took one of the girls, pinned her to a tree and started kissing her. She seemed to be game with the whole thing until he started lifting up her skirt. Then she started struggling. He called out and one of his friends went to help him keep her still and silent against the tree. Her friend, who’d been standing guard with the other lookouts started causing a raucous and two boys subdued her, holding their hands to her mouth. K was confused, wondering what this was all about, until he saw the ring leader unzip his fly and force his already stiff penis into the poor girl standing against the tree. From the contortions of her face and the tears that started pouring from her eyes he could tell that she’d been a virgin. Less than a minute of pumping in and out and he was done. His friend that had helped him hold the girl down was next. A few minutes and he too was done. They took turns on her. Taking their pleasure. K came last. He hesitated, knowing it was wrong. One look at all the rest and he knew he had to. Peer pressure was real even then. All he remembers was that it was extremely wet in there! It was his first time and he didn’t last longer than 30 seconds. He spent the next few months paranoid as fuck! His heart beating a mile per hour at every morning assembly, expecting to be called at any time to answer rape charges. The announcement never came. She hadn’t told. Neither had her friend. It was his first ever rape. Considering my mother was in Pangani at around the same time these idiots were roaming and violating poor girls, this story touched me personally. We all know the statistics. 1 in every 3 girls will experience sexual abuse at least once in her life. Have you ever really thought about what this means? Your mother, sister, cousin, friend, lover. Your daughter, nieces, neighbours. These women live with a story they can’t tell anyone. One where they were taken advantage of. K says that he found out later that they weren’t the only one that had raped girls that day. These stories were given as conquests, tales of victory, in the dormitories late at night, over dinner and breakfast in the dining hall… Even as he told us the story, I could tell he didn’t see it for what it was. Evil. He was kind of proud of what he’d done. His ‘first’ rape. Implying there were more. How many rapists roam the streets? Do you know that your friend/brother/husband/boyfriend/son/nephew, might be one? An unapologetic one? So much disregard for sexual rights. Will it ever end if even grown ass highly educated men propagate the culture? These men that we expect to teach our sons. I’d really like to know what you think so please visit our comments section below and leave your thoughts there. What do you think we should do to change this hopeless reality?  

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.