So this day I was at KRA following on a matter when I noticed this gorgeous gal, about 58 years. A well-maintained yellow, yellow. The fisi in me arose from the dead.
Soon, we were chatting like old friends. She was a widow with two grown up children, out of the nest. Later that day we met at Fiesta, Chester House, 3rd Floor. Best, cheap restaurant in town.
I looked at the gal and almost choked on my drink. Her weave was just right. Her dentures, oh my! I could tell she had had a face lift, but what the heck, even young gals apply make-up.
Two bottles of Amarula Cream later, we jumped into her car and made our way to her house, a ground floor apartment in Kili.
We did a bottle of Chardonnay white as we touched-touched and the party really took off, right there on the carpet.
Her bush was considerable and a little grey - back in the day gals never shaved, so I guess she was still holding the fort. When I removed her bra, the boobs kind of reached just above the groin but hell, I wasnât going to let something so minor stand between me and a good ferk.
With a flick of her hand she also removed her hair. I was a little taken aback to discover she was a little bald, but being over 60 myself, you canât be too choosy, can you?
Kissed her deeply as I looked into her eyes. Sasa tuko kwa carpet, naked. She pushed the glass coffee table aside, and I was like, this is gonna be hot! Kidogo nainua matiti kutoka kwa tumbo nanyonya like my life depends on it.
I donât know whether I was crude about it when kissing her or her dentures were just loose but they came out. I barely noticed - I was gonna get some! Dry fry, hapa hakuna cha kutumia kinga, kwani nani atakuwa pregnant?
Continued kunyonya hayo matiti kidogo, lakini when I tried to go down she was like, thatâs for young people, sweetieâŚshe also didnât want me to finger her, I donât know why.
Mara that that I turned her over on her back. It was now or never. Team, we are going in, flying blind!
Nikajaribu ya kwanza kuingia. Ya pili. She tried to get me up, kusugua kidogo kidogo ICBM ilaunch. Kupapasa the cumbags. Wapi. It didnât help of course that she was a little dry - sometimes youâve got to slip in before you really harden.
Then she was like, wait sweetie. She stood up, left, and came back with K-Y. She smiled coyly without showing her âteethâ. Aka apply K-Y.
Nikajaribu tena. Wapi. Tena. Woooooooooooooooi, hakuna! As they say, rudely, you canât play pool with a rope. At the moment of greatest opportunity, the ICBM battery was flat. I could not rise up to the occassion.
We just lay there, holding each other. She told me it was ok, and that made me feel mad like hell, for some reason.
Weeks later, I drilled her like a shujaa looking for oil in Turkana at a dingy lodging in Muranga, but that is a story for another day.
Moral of the Story: Jijazieni, sheji, kwani kila stori lazima ikuwe na moral?