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001 CHRONICLES Sn2

#1
Sorry for keeping you waiting. I had to lie low for the ultimate confirmation of RWNEEEEEBP!

JUNE, 19TH 2009.

‘Murume, tura twite.’ – Get out, it’s time to leave. I lazily opened my eyes and saw it was already dawn. I got myself up out of the comfy dala dala backseat. I stepped out and greeted my hosts. They told me that I should accompany one of them who was leaving for Kongowea market. He’d help me trace Kabete. I bid them goodbye and promised to come visit them one day once I settled. We hit the road. I had earlier explained to them that my cousin sold tomatoes in the market. He let me know that it was easy to locate him since tomato stalls were in a single line. Our heated conversation made the distance rather short. Crossed Nyali Bridge then into the market.

Once in the market, we teared the tomato stalls lane and what got me wondering were the amerucan insults all over! The words that even in pitch darkness of the night, all alone in a forest, I couldn’t utter were the same ones in broad daylight niggas in the market conversed with! I felt the urge to approach one of them and ask him if he knew Kabete.s stall but I feared the insult he’d use. We were almost in the middle of the line and there was Kabete. He was persuading a curvy Muslim lady to buy tomatoes. I told my guide that I had seen him. I let him first serve the customer then I greeted him. My guide too greeted him and he let me know that he’d leave for his hustle. I thanked him and bid him bye. A conversation started as I narrated him my ordeal. We laughed, updated him of the upcountry status and debated on many other topics. I told him I was starving and he gave me some coins that I secured some mahamri and a cup of tea with. I joined him and by the course of the day, I felt equipped with the customer service ethics. The market was due to closure about noon and our product too had finished. It was time to leave for home. We boarded a Kongowea Bamburi route psv and alighted just after Lights. Kisimani was his residential area. We got to the house. He prepared lunch which we hungrily munched. He was off duty that day so after eating, we refreshed and he took me for a walk.

We checked in to a veve base and secured our dose. From there we went to a local where he grabbed mnazi bottles as we catched up more. He inquired why I had fled home and told him that school fees was the problem so I didn’t need to pressure mum anymore. He promised to help me get something to do so as to establish a foundation. As the liquor got the better of us, more friends came and it became a real rave. Kabete played dice, ile ya shells tatu, of which when the shells are thrown and the faces are even, then you’ve ‘eaten.’ Damn, he was good at it or else he was really lucky bastard. He ‘ate’ about a thousand bob and your guess is good as mine, kukojoa tulikojoa sawa sawa.

At about 0800hrs, he decided we hype a little. The local was now full and commotion everywhere. I really didn’t know the exact names of most joints I visited while there so bare with me. Anyway, we went to a middle class joint where he ordered naps. We were already high so we sipped slowly as we feasted our eyes on the hookers around. Kabete being the fisi he was, he invited two of them in our table. From the little chemistry I knew, their bondage was not all that new. They seemed to know each other. The other friend of hers kept complaining on how I was quiet. Kabete would tell me nichangamke but being my first hook day, I couldn’t behave.

Alcohol is not soup my friend. After downing another naps and another, adrenaline picked up. I saw the hooker become a model. The best thing was that my bulge wouldn’t let alcohol carry me so high to the point of passing out. Kabete decided it was time we went home and since he was a member, tuliteka wote wawili. Once in the house, he called me aside and advised me not to dry fry. He told me that there was a friend who had travelled upcountry and he had the key to his cave. The houses were in the same plot so he went, collected the key and came, accompanied by my nyoka and opened the house for us. We entered and sure enough, there was a box near the bed where makobosto were. He left us and told me that he’d wake me up early the following day.

We were now alone and I got to be a man. I asked what her name is and she told me she was Zawadi. What a coincidence! Having Zawadi as a welcome present! Coast being pwani, clothes repel the body. We engaged in some talk as we stripped and for real, my kariuki akarauka. Since alcohol had already fore played for me, all what was left was me to strike. The nyoka positioned herself as I sheathed myself. In a split of seconds, I was on top of her. The high school dry spell and the excitement of a new coomer made my thrusts so brutal. Zawadi moaned in ectasy as I pumped more. She was a real prowess. She spinned the cunt for me like Kalonje and the decks. The sound effects were the moans. I felt myself sum up ready for offloading. I went deeper and she liked it. She held me tight by my back and locked her legs by my ass. I remained deep buried in her and I felt her contractions as she came. I also released my hot shot and relaxed. We looked at each other and smiled. After some time, nyoka ikalala. Earlier, Kabete had advised me that maliars wa huko steal and leave you naked outside the plot. So he had told me to lock the house and hide the keys. I did that and went back to bed. Nilikamua mara ingine mbili na asubuhi before atoke and that’s how we became friends with Zawadi.
 

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