The following proceedings took place and or occurred when Kingolonde was still a bachelor and reckless. Any attempt to refer to this hekaya against the person of kingolonde in future shall be construed as a declaration of hostilities and shall be met with the vilest Kao remote controlled magic…if you know what I mean, Mbiches!..
Man must eat, and therefore, man must work. Kingolonde finds himself in a place called Tongaren, in Bungoma, in the company of two other buddies.
We did our work, and after finishing, we decided to venture out and explore “vitu za huku”. We ended up in a pub that looked like it had seen better days. It had a had a “retio” with the worst sound quality you ever heard, blaring out lingala like however was singing was being ngetad.
After a hearty meal of brown ugali and chicken with some mrenda, we started drowning them beers. Kingolonde was a sworn White cap guy (tragedy of life is when you realize you shared the same beer with the village zinjathropus)…na sijataja mtu.
Incredulously enough, there were no yellow yellows in the pub, something that did not go on well with us. We summoned the barman/owner/ who the fvck was at the counter and asked him where the girls at.
His eyes shone….”munataka matem?”
Horny Niggas…”Ndio boss, ala”
“Supirini, naleta fitu vizuri”
After a short time, dude actually showed up with three, kienyeji quails . On another day, another place, we would have plastered him with choicest coastal expletives, but on this particular night we accepted, and move on. Kila mtu akakamata “tem”.
Within two minutes, or even less, my selection had labeled me “Wa Mombasa”, and from then on it was Wa Mombasa this, Wa Mombasa that.
That woman was obsessed with “Machini ya Mombasa”….hizo machini zinatoka kwa bahari……hizo machini zinakula watu……hiyo machini……ad nauseam.
All this time, the mkambodia fisi in me like…”you just wait until I unleash the real Jini in my maroon boxer”
After enough drinks, food and distorted rhumba, the barman/owner/ who the fvck was at the counter showed us the classiest lodgo in the area, na kila mtu na wake.
Thanks partly to the drinks, and the most imaginative blatant lies about majinis you ever heard, the lady was more than ready and willing…….Kingolonde was about to be shocked.
That girl was physical…aggressive, rough…… plain mad. Gaaaadem!
The minute I entered and picked rhythm, IT started. Very heavy slaps on my ass with every thrust.
Kingolonde Thrusts, she slaps
Kingolonde thrusts, she slaps
And not slapping alone my niccurs, not slapping., It was accompanied by wild cries of pepeta….peteta… pepeta …pepeta…pepeta hiyo kitu, wamombasa pepetaaaa… k*manyoko … X 26 hivi. Eish!
Around One o’clock, I was dead tired, kicked her to one side of the bed and slept like a gunia, ass on fire!
……………I felt a soft hand on half my ass, which made me jump very out of the bed and steady, ready for war. In Mombasa anything foreign on your booty, irrespective of how harmless is cause for major alarm (@Meria Mata ambia hawa watu bana) but it was the the girl, (hereinafter referred to as pepeta) smiling.
Wa Mombasa amka upepete ya mwisho.
Checked out, it was almost daybreak. I gathered all the courage I could and told the nutcase I was dead tired, and had a safari back to Mombasa. Enough with the pepeta and spanking shit.
“Bas soma roof” she quipped.
“Ati nini”….I retorted.
“Wewe lala na uangalie roof, na uwache maswhali mengi wamombasa”
I complied.
Pepeta climbed, steadied herself and began to ride.
Pepeta….pepeta….pepeta………AGAIN!!!
That woman rode like it was a matter of life and death, pepeta rode like CORD’s Okoa referendum depended on it……like that riding would halt the perennial budalangi floods…like it would solve the NYS, Eurobond and Dr Ouko mysteries combined…like….
After we were done, we took showers, then before we stepped out I ventured into my wallet and flashed out a 200 bob note and handed to pepeta. She looked at me with a funny look that I could not decipher. I felt cheap and silly. 200 bob for all that. I took the 200 bob which she was holding tightly and flushed out a 500 bob note. Now her eyes widened and her jaw slightly dropped.
“Tena unaongeza…kwani nimekulimia ka shamba”. I returned the 500 bob chap chap.
We dressed and went out to meet the others for breakfast before heading back to Mwambasa.
The look on my buddies faces when we met were worth more than the Monalisa…and @uwesmake’s signed Gilbeys combined. I knew they would fry me later.
When I sat down I felt a faint pain on my ass, then I remembered….Wamombasa pepeta!
One day I shall be back…
