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Minx, Real Life Story
I can’t really remember my very very first sexual experience with a girl. I can’t remember my first sexual experience period. Just snippets of giggling in dark places as a kid, show me yours I’ll show you mine manenos. I do remember feelings of shame whenever I was caught with a girl. I must have been caught with boys too, but there’s zero guilt associated with those, so of course they didn’t make a mark, and I barely remember those experiences.

The first time I thought, ‘Shit, I might be gay,’ I was 17 and loooooving the feel of some light skin Kiuk girl’s boobs. We’d spent the day bonding AF! I only realized she’d been hitting on me when I woke up, it was a sleepover, and she was trying to get her hands under  my jumper to grab and my nipples. Sigh…

Thing is, I couldn’t be gay. I was into boys. Like really  into boys. So, no I wasn’t gay. And bi is only a thing girls are in campus, right? To impress boys… I decided I would leave all my experimentation to Uni, when it would be considered normal to have sex with girls.

Campus came round and it turned out, it wasn’t really acceptable there either. The shaming still happened, albeit in the form of rumors of who’d been expelled or suspended in high school for being gay. These ones were still shunned in the grown up world. I found myself grateful I’d had a firm ‘no sex in school’ policy (adopted while in a mixed school) that had saved me from this unique form of slut shaming.

I was already considered a whore by those who purported to know me, and the social consequences were damning, but homophobic shaming was on a whole other level that I was sure I didn’t want to take part in. Not to say that I didn’t do my fair share of drunk make out sessions with girls, for the male gaze of course.

The first time I actually had sex with a girl, it was supposed to be a threesome. I hadn’t even considered it. She was gorgeous, skinny (I still had hang ups about being fat dem days), totally out of my league. She was hitting on my friend, they were going to have sex, he knew I was a freak and when the sly opportunist asked if she was game for a threesome and she said an enthusiastic yes, I just went along with it. Woe unto him. 

I knew this was something different immediately we started making out. His exclusion was palpable. Aliambiwa akae kando, then when he went out for a smoke she locked the door behind him. Ha! We fucked for hours!!!! So good. Fuck!

I’d used the word ‘bisexual’ to describe myself before, but it didn’t ring true until that experience. I knew I didn’t want to stop, but I didn’t know where to go next.


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

Cheating, Humor, Mofeas, Real Life Story, Secrets
It is said the road to perdition is paved with good intentions. I’m afraid i’m about to become a poster boy for this saying very soon. My end is nigh but if I’m to serve as a cautionary tale I’d rather it be in my own words for the sake accuracy. You see I’m not a relationship expert, I don’t do counseling. That’s the sphere of shrinks. However, my magnanimity disposes me to offer my assistance in whatever way possible when it is sought. My efforts towards that end are not always appreciated and the circumstances that led to me being a marked a man are a testament to the unthankful nature of homo sapiens. A lady colleague turned to me recently with her marital woes. To my credit I did warn her that I’m no guru in matters marriage having yet to encounter a lass crazy enough to gaol my ass for the rest of her existence. She insisted though, saying another colleague who has graced my coital abboitre had spoken highly of my slaughter skills. This perked my interest, I do indeed know a thing or two about inducing multiple orgasms. Now we were in Mofeas zone, I was all ears. Apparently her hubby of a few years was stale and monotonous in bed. He was a one trick ninja solely versed in the kendo technique of stab, stab, stab, collapse. She wanted to take charge but her inexperience in the coital arts prior to marriage meant she had no idea how to spice things up. She was also not about to ask for help from her girlfriends since that would be akin to issuing a press release on her deficiencies – her words, not mine. She needed discretion and had decided she could only confide in and find succor from yours truly. I couldn’t help but oblige after such a passionate plea, at last my porn stash was going to be an educational aid apart from serving its higher purpose of as a fap aid. I took sweet little missy to class ardently. I was determined to make make a bedroom warrior princess out of her. I took her through literature studies ranging from 50 Shades of Grey and Cosmo to the Kamasutra. We had marathon sessions on premium Pornhub and old school role play porn, you have to know how to instigate a rough pounding from mundane activities like doing the dishes. I had her doing pilates, kegels and gag reflex control routines till she was doing things to a banana that would amount to criminal abuse of flora. Boy was she a good student! In a fortnight’s time she could comfortably accommodate my king sized kong down her throat and look sexy as fuck as she swallowed every drop of jizz she’d coaxed out my grapes with her skillful tongue. After running the gamut of all her orifices, I felt my work was done. I was such a proud tutor. I issued my seal of approval with a good rimming and reluctantly with a tear in my eye and a throb in my gonads gave her power to practice all that pertains to her new prowess on her husband, the lucky bastard! I felt good about myself, no one would ever say I have never done a selfless act after that. Next morning, I’m in the office bright and early eagerly awaiting feedback. Madam walks in looking disheveled and out of sorts. I take that as a good sign, she must have rocked ninja’s world a good one yester night. Then the saga unfolds. So ninja had come prepared for his usual swordplay but he had another thing coming. Madam had taken over and unleashed her new found kata moves, this wasn’t going to be the usual one man show. Ninja was surprised at first but soon seemed to take it in his stride, after all no one can resist the linguini executed with a touch of reverse cow girl. In fact ninja was putting up a decent fight for once. His sword was miraculously transformed from a weak alloy to one made of valayrian steel. It endured bravely for four rounds only finally honorably bowing out when madam sheathed it in her posterior outpost, hemispheres it had hitherto never experienced. Ninja was thoroughly worn out but spotting a stupefied grin by the end of that pelvic combat. As they lay there panting, he sat up all of a sudden and grabbed madam. She was pleasantly surprised still revelling in her afterglow thinking another round was forthcoming, but woe unto her. She was served three abrupt kumanyoko slaps. Apparently, it had just occurred to ninja that her transformation from expert in kifo cha mende to Nefertiti come to life could not be a miracle. He went ape shit cray on her demanding to know where she had learnt the extreme stingos she had just pulled on him and self preservation led her to blurt out that I was responsible complete with my address. She was walloped a good one and last she had seen ninja he was assembling an arsenal of crude weapons while singing war songs and chanting the various varieties of heinous acts he was going to perpetrate on my person before dispatching me to my maker. I’ve been forced into hiding hoping reason will eventually prevail and he’ll understand that I was actually doing him a pro bono service. In the meantime, I can’t go back to my day job so I’m offering coitus improvement classes for y’all lasses stuck in missionary land. All you have to do is feed me and hide me. A man’s got to eat and if i’m to die then i’ll have done my bit for society. Holla. Posted from WordPress for Android

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!

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.

On a recent episode of Scandal, resident heroine, Olivia Pope, went toe to toe with her Father who happens to be a feared spy master. Her Father, with all his vast resources and the support of the United States Government behind him, could not match his daughter. She stood up to him and told him, “I have weapons at my disposal you couldn’t possibly imagine” The weapon in question is the tempestuous affair she has with the President. With one phone call to her Democrat lover, Olivia managed to convince him to make a decision, that put the President in direct conflict with her Father. The fate of the nation, was decided by a woman’s promise, of possible sex. Sounds stupid? Probably, but not if you’re a man! I don’t mean to portray men as helpless, sexually wanton idiots, but we kind of are. If a man knows there’s a possibility that he is going to open the thighs of his object of desire, see that lovely rose gleaming at the petals with wetness. That he is going to dip his dick in this elixir of pleasure and abandon, while looking at her face to see the ecstasy glazed on her eyes. The moment he knows that, mountains become molehills in his quest to accomplish that. History is littered with instances where passion played this part. History might as well have been written on the lips and folds of pussy! Adam and Eve, we all know how that went. The war of Troy, was fought over the beautiful Helen of Troy, the face (more like ass) that launched a thousand ships. Samson and Delilah, the girl started the first Kinyozi, but for very murderous reasons. David and Bethsheba, Solomon and his 900 concubines, the list is endless. Pussy is God’s longest running practical joke on mankind. We are told he created us in his image. If we are created in the image of the most powerful being in the Universe, it makes sense that he would’ve created a fail-safe, a kill-switch so that we, marauding monkeys that we are, wouldn’t destroy his creation. He did create one, pussy. If we are in possession of such an astounding weapon, what have we done with it, that can be left as a legacy to future generations? Well, let’s ask the holders of the weapon. Let’s see now, countless abortions, fucking dogs for porn, participating in 100 men one pussy orgies (yes, that happened), exchanging pussy for Guarana or cab fare from the club, going to raves and becoming pregnant without knowing who the father is. The more evolved ones, use birth control at least, but only when it suits them. If it’s more profitable to get pregnant, they will. To fleece a man of material wealth, or imprison a married man. The most powerful instrument on earth, and they use it so that they don’t have to pay fare in the Umoinner. The reason, sex is so powerful, is because women are born nurturers. They were given the ability to create something out of nothing, nurture it to full maturity, then go on and do it all over again. The reason this world is in such a muddle, is because we relegated the woman to the kitchen. When men took control, women had to have their say, and it was through the only thing men can’t live without, sex. So it has become a currency, that comes into use whenever a woman needs something that at the moment, only a man can give her. A nd this happens a lot! The reason women haven’t changed the world with this power, is because they find it hard to rally behind each other. Jealousy and envy are their worst enemies. They imagine that the next woman will have a higher position than them, and that becomes the point where they vote for the male competitor. I don’t need to drive this point home, look at our political landscape and the female players are more often than not, nominated. I assure you right now, were women given the task to end world hunger, we’d all be obese. Just look at the work or regal First-Lady had put into ending the Maternity mortality rates. So impressive is her work that she received an award from the UN. Often have my friends remarked that they would’ve voted for her, had she run for the highest seat in the land. You could burn all the guns in the world, destroy all the nukes in all the silos and disband all militia in war-torn countries, but if you can’t destroy pussy (pun intended) you would’ve been better served twiddling your thumbs and singing Kumbaya. It is a double-edged sword that carves out its marker either with blood or royal ink. The world is clitoris shaped, we just need to convince these ladies to rub it the right way.

I have been told that I fap too much by concerned friends. No, they didn’t do it intervention-style, but they would have if they knew each other no doubt. Aye, alcoholics out there, the best way to avoid an intervention is if your friends and family never meet each other. Hii mambo ya introductions muachie the sane, drug free, non addiction prone members of our society. So, back to my nether activities. Well, for those who haven’t been paying attention, I only learned the joys of diddling my nubbin in a few months ago. Don’t get me wrong, I already knew what an orgasm was, and not just from the Mills And Boon stories of my youth. No, a flesh and very hot red blooded male from my past decided to ruin sex with lesser mortals for me about two years ago. His extensive foreplay, lots of vodka and not so substantial equipment, made me see stars. I had the universe behind my eyelids for what felt like a fleeting second but he says I was down for almost a minute, shaking and making sounds he describes as a cross between that laughter that comes from deep within the stomach, and the crying of paid Luo mourners. I couldn’t even be embarrassed. I’d just experienced heaven and I was obsessed with recreating that sensation. Years later, I have given up on the male species. None can recreate that feeling but he who induced it that first time… Yes, I did it with that guy again and no, he didn’t make me cum. With that evidence in hand, I concluded that Eros possessed him that day. The charm, the care, the absolute romanticism of that day, no, it could not be the work of a human. Only a god can make you see heaven. Logic people! Logic! So, until Eros possessed some man out there and ravages me once more, heaven was barred to me. I became celibate. This year, Aphrodite, my Minx’s personal god, felt it good that I learn to pleasure myself. And so it became. My clit for some reason gained about a billion nerve endings and man was I grateful!!! One random day reading through Literotica and feeling myself up without expectation I experienced an intense heat in the pit of my stomach that made me moan like an animal! I was shocked! I wanted more. So I did it again, that light touch across my extremely engorged clit that made colours spin and my legs tremble. A few more and my world shattered. It was magic! Well, months later and I now know that there’s a few types of orgasms out there. There’s the little ones where your pussy tingles and the sensation travels as far as your knees. There’s the medium ones that cause you to tremble all over a little bit and last for about 10 seconds (yes, I have the discipline to time them, for science, for you!) And there the huge ones! These are the kind that make your legs weak and if you’re unfortunate enough to experience them while standing, well, you’ll be very acquainted with the floor when you’re done writhing around in absolute wanton pleasure. One big one actually made me cry…a little. It was one tear! I had a mini black out and when I came to my cheek was wet. It was surprising but that’s one of the best I’ve ever had. I’ve squirted FYI, it was once, at the beginning of my experimentation, and I had done an insane amount of research over the internet on how to make myself do it. 90% of the blogs were written by men: How To Make Yourself Squirt by Some Man. smh. I’d totally get it if the guy was telling other men how to make their woman squirt but noooo, he’s of the balls decides to educate women on their bodies. It’s like a woman writing: Scrotun Care; A Complete Guide On How To Scratching Your Balls. Absolute nonsense! One lady wrote an awesome guide on squirting and as soon as I duplicate my first result I’ll definitely give you the lowdown on that. My fapping adventures continue though. I can’t stop now! I’m basically a teenage boy right now. My 15 year old ‘penis’ won’t let me stop touching it. Besides, Aphrodite and Minx have given me the gift of orgasm, it may not be heaven but it would be rude to throw it back in their faces and stop fapping. So, I’ll keep diddling my kambosho thank you very much! Feel free to call me an addict. All I am is a girl in love with her pussy.

afrisex3 Let me taste you, just a little. But you are tasting me. I like it so very much I want more. You can’t have it all at once. You’ll die  of awesomeness poisoning, and we can’t have that. Ha ha ha! Ok. I’ll bite 😀 No, I’ll nibble. Nibble away, baby. Slowly….. Slowly. Put it here. *Puts it there.* A lick and it’ll go even slower. A lick where? Wherever you want it. Behind my ear. I’ll lick it then blow gently into the wet spot. Your turn. Where do you want this tongue to play? On my lips. Touch them with just the tip. Just the tip of… what? Your tongue. Alright, let’s start with that. So, I run my tongue gently along your lips. What do they taste like… Honey and pepper. Then you… I part them slightly and the tip on my tongue tastes yours a little before I shut my lips again. You taste of nuts and cream. I pull you closer, close enough to fell your heart thumping through your chest. I inhale you, then I bite your lower lip… I sigh out loud and you take advantage of my parted lips and kiss me deeply. I wrap my arms around your torso and push myself up, into you. I grab your arse, hard, and kiss you full-on your moist supple lips. I can feel you hardening against my front. I bite your lower lip and widen my legs a little… Soft flower, ready flower, I can feel her pulsating moisteness. She is ready. I can barely remember our clothes coming off… She is ready, that heady musk hits my brain like a train. *LONG INTERMISSION* Sorry, phonecall. Oh timber. I call timber. Warm, strong, poised. Iron. Ready for me. Heated. Rhythmic. Pulsating in time with my fleshy folds.   afr ero   Heaven, this is what it is. Hell, these thirsts seem unquenchable. Are you the one to sate me, free me in your chains? Can you find satisfaction with one intent on increasing the depth of your longing? Can you be sated? Because I never want you to feel sated so long as you’re intent on invoking this deep, heated… Can satisfaction come from an increase in hunger? Isn’t that we’re here? To figure that out? What if we never do? What if… What if… What if… What if we do? What if we do and it’s all boring from then henceforth? We love or we learn. Forever doesn’t have to happen but we can search for it. Even a slice of it is more than many people will ever experience. As I said, perfect :-* :-* :-* Perfect is flawed. Beautifully. Painfully. Give me the beauty, give me your flaws, give me all your ugly and your insane. All the rage and your pain. I can find light all on my own. It’s your darkness that I want. You’ll have it. I used to run away from myself and it’s tiring. This is me. Warts and desires and dreams and fears. Thank you, for sharing myself with you. Ha ha, I should thank you. I can be naked with you. And you have been naked with me. I think there’s space enough for both of us to be thankful. afrhm What are you afraid of? You’ve been so busy thinking of all sorts of kinky things to do with me you’ve forgotten 😉 Ha ha ha, no. You’re afraid of disappointing your parents. What else? I’m scared of not doing anything with my life, of being a loser, of failing to live up to my potential. What are you afraid of? I’m afraid of being forgotten. Of never accomplishing anything life changing, not for me but for others. I want to be remembered a thousand years from now. I’m afraid of death, of loss in general. I’m a hoarder of souls. I don’t like to let go. These last two, I can relate to. I hate losing friends. I can’t imagine that all that emotion expended was for nothing. I know! Have you ever been at a point in your life where things just seem so undecipherable and nothing seems to be working? And then one thing or one relationship males sense and works? Then you find yourself grasping at it and the harder you grasp, the more it slips? Yeah, in my last relationship. That’s what it was like at the end. School and life in general. Nothing makes sense any more and trying to unravel it all….. When everything’s going wrong and you’re clinging to just that one relationship, it’s probably the reason everything is wrong in the first place. I agree. But what if there’s nothing to grasp? Like you’re floating in a vacuum? You let yourself float then the universe gets a chance to decant you from the mess of a life that’s not meant for you. Haven’t we floated long enough? Yes, but this fluid we’re in isn’t as viscous as the last. I’m finding it easier to navigate, to ground myself. I’ve never felt more lost. You’re a stranger and I’m baring it all to you. You can only find something after you’ve lost it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting for me, you don’t sound like a stranger at all. It does feel strange, to some degree, after a lifetime of wearing masks. ….And that’s one hell of a pick-up line. Smooth 😉 Is it scary? Thank you 😉 Not any more. What does one really have to lose, being completely honest and open? The best interactions are based on this, so it’s a great place to start. I wish I could see your face as you say these things. Just to witness the intensity of all these revelations. Very few people can stand this intensity. Are you sure you’re ready? I’m not just ready, I’ll match you heat for heat, emotion for emotion, promise for promise. Let’s dance, let’s dalliance too. I like that. No. I love it. Give me more. Slowly, mami, slowly… I’m impatient for you 🙁 Show me, how do you look today? Scruffy, like the writer stereotype :-/ I have a thing for writers. They have a thing for you too 😉 There’s only one I’m interested in 😉 *blush* Evening walk. Catch you in a bit. Keep your panties on. I didn’t wear any 😉 images-2

Transcription Eh! Ona diugaga kuoguo keino reke gwire. Nie mudu rume ucio wakwa diue kuria arutire experience. Nwona kang’ura, anyogaga ginya gamwira ambe areke thugume. Akajira, “Thuguma.” Ngai! Niuruo nie ginya akijikaga gaita. Niwona nudu urio arume maitaga ukaigwa niwaita, niarelax? Nitakimake arajikaga gaita. Noo ucio niwe mudurume arajikire diraita. Izi zingine dirathishagwo oo thishwo. Yes, nidorokaga gaigwa direda guthishwo. No, tanya mudurume ucio niwe aratumire jiite! Niwona uno arume maito kagwo, akahana taa akuo? Mii namwaganga, Ngai! noo ucio mudurume niwe oratumire. Ni ma ghai! Suzie nakwambia, huyo mwanaume alikuwaananitomba! Sema kutombwa! Dirakwira arafu, twatwa niguthishana, todo niarakimenya ka nie muti nidiwedete, hapo dii wet, nake ee wet, uria uriragia tumae… akaba akauhututhia mahaha kang’ura iguru, akauthigithia kang’ura-ini! Gaaaai! Nie daiguaga taa gumia! Ginya muiritu ucio neiba twareganatie neiba wakwa ee, aki— ajire “Maa Shiro! Nie ma! Uria uratumire — jike. Uratumire ginya uratuma jite mudurume wakwa, naniturahitanitie, diramualika, oke nyuba, niguo tuthishane, kotodo murashinare diraga toro!” Ghai! Ucio mudurume arathicaga, taiga guthicana. Ghai! We tiga urauga uhoro wa kuogwo, nie aranyogaga gaita! Niwaugaga guita! Wewe! Ha! Ginya naniwatuma jokie, Gai Mwathani! Ria igiruta muti ku? Translation to: Kiswahili/Sheng’: Eh! Kunyonywa pussy! Wacha nikuambie! Huyo mwanaume wangu, sijui alitoa wapi experience. Unaona clit? Alikuwa ananinyinya hadi namwambia aniwache nikojoe. Ghai! Alikuwa ananifanya hadi namwaga. Unaina vile mwanaume humwaga hadi unaona amaerelax? Mimi alikuwa ananifanya hadi namwaga. Hizo zingine ilikuwa tu kufanywa. Yees, nilikuwa nakua horny na naskia nataka kufanywa tu na huyo mwanume aliyenifanya nimwage. Unaona vile wanaume hucum anakaa kama amakufa? Mimi namwaganga na huyo mwanaume ndio hunifanya hivyo. Suzie nakwambia, huyo mwanaume alikuwa ananitomba! Sema kutombwa! Tukiamua nikufuck, juu anajua mimi napenda mti, sasa unaona yeye ako wet na mimi niko wet, vile inalilisha tumaji…kwanza anasongesha juu kwa clit, alafu anairub kwa clit! Ghaaai!!! Mimi huskia ni kama nitakunya! Hadi jirani ananiita kuniambia, “Aki Shiro! Wewe! Vile ulinifanya nifanye! Ulifanya niite mwanaume wangu na tulikuwa tumekosana, nikamwalika kwa nyumba ndio tufuck! Kwa sababu mlifuck nikashindwa kulala!” Ghai! Huyo mwanaume alikuwa ananifuck, sema kufuck! Wacha wewe unasema mambo ya kunyonywa, alikuwa ananinyonya namwaga! Sema kumwaga! Ha! Mpaka umenifanya nikuwe horny Ghai! Sasa nitatoa mti wapi?