Mtu ashawai jaribu kukugongea alafu wewe ndio ukabaki umemgongea? That’s my story.
I am no longer friends with a guy I had known for a while. His name is Sam, and I wasn’t surprised when the inevitable transpired. Our fallout was bound to happen, mainly because there was no respect coming from his side.
Sam is the person who introduced me to alcohol (in the worst way possible). Dude gladly advised me to drink one of those sweet feminine drinks, and since I didn’t know much about male-appropriate brands at the time, I gladly took it. Even worse, we were in the company of about six women in a club. As expected, some of them looked at me with those eyes of “sasa huyu anadu?”
Funny enough, I had never cared for alcohol for much of my life. I never even used to drink when I was in university. My idea of having a good time was just getting laid and trying all possible positions till my back hurt. It was all sex… sex… sex… for me. Whenever I was in a social setting with my bro, he would joke, “Huyu hatumii pombe. Anatumia tu wasichana.”
Luckily, I never repeated the mistake of drinking alcohol that tastes like soda again. I quickly learned how to sip hard liquor and within not time I was a pro. I’ve also mastered the art of drinking responsibly. That means no alcohol on weekdays.
I had met Sam via my baby mama (one of the most evil woman in the world but that’s a story for another day). He was her neighbor and despite having a wife, he was trying his luck with her. One day he had come to hit on her only to find a dude (me) standing at the door. I could see the disappointment in his face, but somehow we ended up becoming friends. We were both Chelsea fans, we loved cars, and were around the same age. On top of that, me and him somehow ended up getting a child each around the same time.
Fast forward to May 2024. Sam was still married (though he and his wife fought daily) while I had broken up with my baby mama ages ago. Since I was the single one, I’d host drinking sessions at my place on weekends. He always looked foward to these moments because they presented the perfect opportunity for him to escape his hellish home life. He would start calling as early as Wednesday, just to confirm we were on. At this point, I had gotten myself a fine girlfriend named Mercy. Sam (like most married men) had a regular mistress… a very pretty one for that matter. Marion was her name and she was 10 times hotter than his wife. She also had that voice that would make any man want to bed her.
Marion rarely showed up at our drinking sessions. She is the kind of girl who sees you on her schedule, not the other way around. Still, Sam was madly obsessed with her. He’d constantly beg to see her (I know this coz she showed me his texts in bed), and spend tons of cash on her. She was obviously with Sam for the money, as he was the kind of guy who couldn’t pull a woman without overspending.
Whenever we had the drinking sessions, Sam would show up with a random girl and try to negotiate for the sweet stuff. At times it’d work, sometimes it wouldn’t, forcing him to back home and beg for some from his wife. Being the trusting friend that I am, I had no idea that he had his eyes on my newest girl
During one of our sessions, I drank too much and Sam saw this as an opportunity to go after Mercy. He became aggressive with her, but upon noticing I was regaining my senses, he backed off. Unwilling to cause a scene, I ignored the matter. Two days later, Mercy informed me that Sam was sending her texts, wanting to meet her privately. At that point, I got really furious and asked myself, “Huyu anajua Etemesi ni nani kweli?”
Somehow, at that point, me and Mercy stopped talking to each other over another issue we’d had. A window had thus opened up and at that point, I vowed to start hitting on Marion right away, knowing how much Sam adored her. I didn’t care whether she’d tell him about it. I simply wanted nothing to do with this friendship anymore, coz real men respect each other’s girlfriends. Interestingly, it was a lot easier than expected. Apparently, Marion had liked me for a while, especially after reading my book. Flirting was thus easy and within no time, she was telling me how much Sam irritated her. She said she’d have left a long time ago if he was not paying for her rent.
In less than a week, we had already started sexting and shortly after that, we scheduled a date to meet and bang. And boy was it magical.
I remember her arriving at my house at around 9 pm and me wasting no time. As soon as she entered the door, I caught her in my arms, and lifted her from the floor, her lips glued to mine. My impatience would not allow me to take off her heels, more than just yank off her top and pin her on the couch. She had medium firm boobs and wasn’t wearing any bra. Her chest now bare, her nipples rose to the warmest throbs, presented to my sight.
At that point, nothing could have bribed my restless hands from roving. Soon, all her clothes were off, and her body was fairly exposed to the examination of my eyes. Her vagina also lay open to the tender invasion of my fingers. A reflex made her mechanically close her thighs; but once I planted another kiss on her lips, she opened a way for the main attack.
Rightly pointed, my dick drove forward with fury, its prodigious stiffness, and wedgelike hardness, breaking the union of her labia. Oh insupportable delight! Oh! superhuman rapture! What loyalty to friends could stand before a pleasure so transporting? She curled around me like the tendril of a vine, as if wanting no part of her to be untouched or unpressed by me.
As I thrust in and out, she returned my embraces and kisses with fervour and gust only known to true love, and which mere lust could never rise to. But we were not lovers. We were only punishing someone we hated. And it felt nice. And we knew that even at that time when all the tyranny of the passions would be fully over and our veins would be but a cool tranquil stream, memories of the sex would remain engraved in our brains.
After about fifteen minutes, we began to enter into the true unallayed relish of that pleasure of pleasures, when the sweetness hits the entire body. What agonies of delight! Too fierce! Too mighty!
Who can express the fire her eyes glistened with, the glow her breasts had? Tender broken exclamations were all the praises she could utter. At a point of meditation, I asked myself coolly the question, if it was fair for any of creature to be so happy as I was? We both ’came’ hard, but we couldn’t keep our hands and lips off each other.
We spent a few hours till supper time in a continued circle of love delights, kissing, turtle-billing, toying, and all the rest of the feast. We drank a lot too. We lay together that night, when, after playing repeated prizes of pleasure, nature, overspent and satisfied, gave us up to the arms of sleep.
Late in the morning, I woke up first, and, observing Marion sleeping profoundly, softly disengaged myself from her arms. Her hair was in disorder from the rufflings she had undergone, and I took the opportunity to adjust and set it as well as I could, whilst, every now and then, looking at the sleeping youth with inconceivable fondness and delight, and reflecting on all the joy she had bestowed on me.
Could I paint her figure as I see it now, still present in my thoughts? A whole length of an all-perfect, womanly beauty in full view. Think of a face without a fault, glowing with all the opening bloom and vernal freshness. The parting of the double ruby pout of her lips seemed to exhale an air sweeter and purer than what it drew in.
Marion’s ass was laid out in womanly proportion. The duvet didn’t hinder me from observing the symmetry of her limbs. Her thighs, finely fashioned, and with a florid glossy roundness, gradually tapering away to the knees. They seemed pillars worthy of supporting that lovely frame.
I fixed my eyes on the woman who had not long before, served me with all willingness. Now she was quiet, pliant, and to all appearance incapable of the mischiefs and naughtiness she had engaged in.
When Marion woke up, my tool had stiffly risen again at her, so I allowed her to touch it and see it in its highest state and bravery. She felt it herself, seemed pleased at its condition, and, smiling loves and graces, seized it again with a gentle compulsion, directing it to her flower. No horn could be harder or stiffer, and no velvet more smooth or delicious than her vagina.
The endless thrusts! The unnumbered kisses! The morning glory sex was too perfect. A joy inexpressible!
After we were done, Marion allowed me to take naked pictures of her, with my book between her thighs. I sent these pictures to Sam on Whatsapp. Never has a man been so heartbroken. Understandably, we have never spoken ever since.
