So I followed this Gizelle across the dance hall like a Cheetah on
the prowl. A part of me felt like a lion-that big mighty king of the
jungle sashay in my head. The scarf around my neck gave me the feeling I
was a big bad lion with a badass mane. The other part of me felt like a
cheetah-very sleek, agile and super fast. Too slick to get caught up in
the dancehall jungle. I was here to hunt and I was gonna get me a
gazelle for the night. The DJ played Mr. Vegas’s Heads High riddim and
the bass was so strong that my balls quivered in my Calvin Klein
boxers. I waxed and waned through the heaving, sweaty, dancing revelers.
With a cocktail of drinks in my head, my sense of pussy and vision
remained unraveled although my strut was already showing telltale signs
of intoxication. I went past this smoking belle in a black body suit
and six inch pumps. She was shaking her big, fat bubbly butt like a
magician. When she saw me approach her, she swirled at a 60 degree angle
and dipped it low, low, low before she picked it up and twerked it
before my dick. I was tempted to touch it and tap it. I did, just for an
instant before I slithered away into a bevy of red chili hot Rwandese
chics who were frantically sucking at a magnum pot of shisha. The Big
ass chic in the black body suit looked around for me and finding no
trace of me around went back to bubbling her derrière.
The steaming hot girls received me in their loop with ecstatic cries of
animation. One of them in the butt-short dress blew a mint-flavored
cloud of smoke in my face and screamed…Hi Super Tuesday! This bevy was
too much for me. I couldn’t stay here, I told myself and I sauntered
past the hottie who had blown a bowl of smoke in face leaving my
business card between her cleavage…call me, I said and I walked off
after my Gazelle that was now perched on the tavern’s only counter
sipping on a glass of something on the rocks. I etched forward and crept
up on her from the rear. Before I wound up on the counter next to her,
my sight lingered on her chiseled booty and down to her calf. She was a
work of art, a faultless timeless piece of the creator’s artistry.
“Hey Gorgeous” I started with a big fat smile on my face along with a
half full bottle of Bell clutched in my right hand. She looked at me,
perplexion wrought on her face. Her lip dropped as though she was about
to say something and I saw the opportunity. I spoke first. “Have you
been to Two Seating ducks and an Egg before darling?” “I umm, huh…what
are you talking about?” She endeavored. So I went on, “ Oh I see, you
haven’t been there before” She breathed visibly and sucked her lower
lip. “ I will tell you about Two Seating ducks and an Egg in a moment”
What are you drinking gyal? You have a nick name? A nickname?” “No”.
She answered. “Perfect” I screamed and took a deep seep of my Bell. She
looked at me with a quizzical look on her face and a smile escaped her
pouted lips. Between a spurt of miniature giggles, she signed “Dude, I
can’t believe you are doing this to me”. I smiled back and said, “ let
me tell you two things-Actually three things but two first. Listen
Gorgeous, now am going to buy you a drink and give you a nickname” I
looked around and called on the Waiter. She served a couple of horny
looking ruscos, paps, bozos before drifting to where we sat at the
counter. I spoke first, “Look here lady, my name is Mr. Awesome” She
smiled and retorted, “Mr. Awesome, am Nina-Brown” “Ok great, Nina-brown
please serve Gazelle here another drink on my bill and a Bell for me
too” She smiled and returned in a minute with our orders. I handed her
Ugx. 20,000 and with the panache of Frank Kyomuhendo, I hissed… Keep the
change as I returned my attention to the attraction of the night. “So
here we go, a drink and a nickname” i heard myself say. “What nickname?”
she scoffed. “Come-on Swit-thing, the drink came with a name for you
and the name is…Gazelle!” A smile grew and spread across her face “Jeez
Christ, what a nickname! Gazelle? “Yeah, I lifted up both hands and I
felt like Manny Pacquiao in after a KO, My names are Cormac Dan. You
must be pleased to meet me. Come here Gazelle. Put some weight on my
chest”. Excitedly she jabbed my shoulder and asked me, how do u put
weight on your chest? I was already mid way towards her when I spoke to
her ear, it means hug me. We hugged for a moment and I lost my head in
the embrace and the fresh scent of her tropical fragrance. The weight of
her voluptuous boobs lay on my chest and our heartbeats synched. By the
time we disengaged from the hug, we both knew with clarity what was
going to happen between us. We took several more drinks and danced to
the tunes of the night in the little town park long after we left the
tavern and drove off to a couple of other joints around the town in her
little Duet. By the time the night gave away to the dawn we had shared a
thousand kisses and a million laughs and giggles between us. We went on
to sleep in her little Duet while the rest of the world awakened to a
new day. The ninth day of October 2010 in Kasese. TO BE CONTINUED…
Wednesday, 16 March 2016
Nuts and Idiots Leading a Country
What do they call the men of the cloth that live a solitary life in
the deserts or forests for years in search of inner truth? The verb has
escaped my vocabulary. I should have been one of those guys. I love
being silent and alone. My world is luminescent when am in seclusion. I
have always hated crowds. My world suddenly grinds to a halt when I
find myself in a crowd. I like…, I mean I like... Hmm.... wow,wait a
minute, hold it right there. Let me rephrase that, I LOVE deserts,
prisons, and monasteries(Yes, I remember the verb now…Monk is the word I
was looking for) I should have become a monk. Sometimes I walk along
Kampala road and I go like, hmm… Too many people and bafoons not enough
baboons!
Once back in 2003, myself and a bunch of Rotary club enthusiasts geared up and drove up about 80Kms to the Wasewanaaba Base camp somewhere on the foot hills of the Mountains Of The Moon. For days on end we camped there and spent long daily hours training and familiarizing ourselves with our climbing gear. We were determined to make it up half way to the 5,119 meter high Margherita Peak. At about 2000 meters above sea level, I remember we stumbled upon a perch of rock that opened our eyes to a 360 degree spectacular vision of the wild world around us. Here amidst the hushed wilderness, I found myself at home. Lost in the lush green beauty of the Mount Ruwenzori National Park, I felt I could live out my entire life out here and not yearn for the life I left behind me. Though a paradoxical subject of debate to you, over my several mountaineering trips in the recent years, I have discovered that there are fewer idiots at 2000 meters above sea level than down below.
I’ve come to think, there’s a lot of stuff out there that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how one man can lead 30 million other people for 30 years from nowhere to nowhere and still claim to have a vision for the same people! I don’t believe in labels, commissions of Inquiry, the Minister of presidency, Executive director of KCCA or Government spokespersons. I don’t listen to Radio Uganda nor do I watch UTV. I have no love for the Electoral Commission chairman or the Miss Uganda pageant organized by the UPDF. I believe in blow jobs, hugs, alcohol, carbon monoxide, masturbation, squirts, twerks, artists, dead Field marshal presidents, Toyota Tundras, the Daily Monitor newspaper, and not properly labeling fatal poisons, but above all else, most of all, I believe in the one thing that can come out of a woman’s vagina: orgasms.
On 8th April 1891, Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas wrote….The obscenity of nostrils and mouths; the ignominious cupidity of smiles and women encountered in the street; the shifty baseness on every side, as of hyenas and wild beasts ready to bite: tradesmen in their shops and strollers on their pavements. How long must I suffer this? I have suffered it before, as a child, when, descending by chance to the servant's quarters, I overheard in astonishment their vile gossip, tearing up my own kind with their lovely teeth.This hostility to the entire race, this muted detestation of lynxes in human form, I must have rediscovered it later while at school. I had a repugnance and horror for all base instincts, but am I not myself instinctively violent and lewd, murderous and sensual? Am I any different, in essence, from the members of the riotous and murderous mob of a hundred years ago, who hurled the town sergeants into the Seine and cried, 'String up the aristos!' just as they shout 'Down with the army!' or 'Death to the Jews!”
Today 5th March 2016, I write…I see idiots every day. I see many of them. A lot of them on TV and more in the gazettes. You hear some of them on the FM radio stations but most likely, we see more of them than we hear them. Some have mastered the art of using their tomfoolery to ascend to the highest offices in this country. Some have totally failed to outgrow their buffoonery only to end up crying like little bitches with a bullet in the leg. I see them and I despise them. I loathe them so bad I sometimes feel as though a deadly toxin, a highly potent poison is flowing through my veins in lieu of red blood. I attend weddings when am invited and my heart bleeds when I see someone getting married to an idiot. Is there something stupidly special between people and idiots? I quite cant place what’s more vile than the other-being a hypocrite or being an idiot. What is more ridiculous-male or female idiots? I see them on Facebook, WhatsApp - all over social media-everybody grabbing each other's assholes in the honeycomb of survival out of a fear-animalistic stupidity.
Once back in 2003, myself and a bunch of Rotary club enthusiasts geared up and drove up about 80Kms to the Wasewanaaba Base camp somewhere on the foot hills of the Mountains Of The Moon. For days on end we camped there and spent long daily hours training and familiarizing ourselves with our climbing gear. We were determined to make it up half way to the 5,119 meter high Margherita Peak. At about 2000 meters above sea level, I remember we stumbled upon a perch of rock that opened our eyes to a 360 degree spectacular vision of the wild world around us. Here amidst the hushed wilderness, I found myself at home. Lost in the lush green beauty of the Mount Ruwenzori National Park, I felt I could live out my entire life out here and not yearn for the life I left behind me. Though a paradoxical subject of debate to you, over my several mountaineering trips in the recent years, I have discovered that there are fewer idiots at 2000 meters above sea level than down below.
I’ve come to think, there’s a lot of stuff out there that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how one man can lead 30 million other people for 30 years from nowhere to nowhere and still claim to have a vision for the same people! I don’t believe in labels, commissions of Inquiry, the Minister of presidency, Executive director of KCCA or Government spokespersons. I don’t listen to Radio Uganda nor do I watch UTV. I have no love for the Electoral Commission chairman or the Miss Uganda pageant organized by the UPDF. I believe in blow jobs, hugs, alcohol, carbon monoxide, masturbation, squirts, twerks, artists, dead Field marshal presidents, Toyota Tundras, the Daily Monitor newspaper, and not properly labeling fatal poisons, but above all else, most of all, I believe in the one thing that can come out of a woman’s vagina: orgasms.
On 8th April 1891, Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas wrote….The obscenity of nostrils and mouths; the ignominious cupidity of smiles and women encountered in the street; the shifty baseness on every side, as of hyenas and wild beasts ready to bite: tradesmen in their shops and strollers on their pavements. How long must I suffer this? I have suffered it before, as a child, when, descending by chance to the servant's quarters, I overheard in astonishment their vile gossip, tearing up my own kind with their lovely teeth.This hostility to the entire race, this muted detestation of lynxes in human form, I must have rediscovered it later while at school. I had a repugnance and horror for all base instincts, but am I not myself instinctively violent and lewd, murderous and sensual? Am I any different, in essence, from the members of the riotous and murderous mob of a hundred years ago, who hurled the town sergeants into the Seine and cried, 'String up the aristos!' just as they shout 'Down with the army!' or 'Death to the Jews!”
Today 5th March 2016, I write…I see idiots every day. I see many of them. A lot of them on TV and more in the gazettes. You hear some of them on the FM radio stations but most likely, we see more of them than we hear them. Some have mastered the art of using their tomfoolery to ascend to the highest offices in this country. Some have totally failed to outgrow their buffoonery only to end up crying like little bitches with a bullet in the leg. I see them and I despise them. I loathe them so bad I sometimes feel as though a deadly toxin, a highly potent poison is flowing through my veins in lieu of red blood. I attend weddings when am invited and my heart bleeds when I see someone getting married to an idiot. Is there something stupidly special between people and idiots? I quite cant place what’s more vile than the other-being a hypocrite or being an idiot. What is more ridiculous-male or female idiots? I see them on Facebook, WhatsApp - all over social media-everybody grabbing each other's assholes in the honeycomb of survival out of a fear-animalistic stupidity.
As it was, so it Ended
I met this girl on a domestic flight from KAO to KAJ. This was many
years go. It was a 45 minutes flight and she took the seat next to me in
that little 10 seater Cessna CitationJet. I didn’t pay her no
attention. I just sat there and buried myself in Robert Ludlum’s third
chapter of the Cry of the Hallidon. I wore a pair of huge Peltor
Tactical XP Neck ear muffs since I was seated just about adjacent to the
twin Engine plane’s left wing The engine’s relatively high-pitched wail
was so loud as the little bird ascended to about 5000 miles above sea
level. The monotonous muffed sound of the engine must have lulled me to
sleep for I woke up about 30 minutes later and we were already hovering
over Kajjansi. The aerial view as usual breathtaking. She must have been
taken up by the beauty for she said something to me that I didn’t hear.
Not wanting to let me be she nudged me. I took down my muffs and I
turned to look at her. I was upset with myself for having ignored her
since KAO. She was the most beautiful piece of ass I had seen since the
beginning of the year. When the plane landed at KAJ, I helped her with
her luggage and even went the extra mile of dropping her off at her
residential apartment. I politely turned down invite to step in for a
glass of fresh orange juice under the pretext that I had business to
take care of in town. Soon as I left her place, I was greeted by the
lowest traffic on Entebbe road since the 2010 Alshabab attacks in
Kampala. With Rick Ross’ Rich forever album blaring out of my car
stereo, the twin cam supercharged engine of my ST/B roared past taxis
and a few cheap cars on the route. “Somebody lied, I’ve gotta chopper in
the car…” I chorused with Lil’ Wayne on the remix of the “Am not a
star” song. I got home in time and I soon forgot about the girl I met on
the flight.
Three days later, I was out at Hooters with my O’G’s Dillar and Sil sipping at half a dozen brown Bell Lager bottles on our table when a light skinned, petiite chic dressed in a polka dot skin tight dress to the knees hugged me from the back. A fresh scent of tropical fruits assailed my sense of smell like a Trojan infantry descending on the Achaeans. You are my type and I love your scent, I said while turning to figure out who the hell this blessed piece of sexy ass was. She walked around to the front of my chair and I saw she was wearing six-inch Louboutin peep toes that complemented the black dots on her dress. She bent over and whispered in my ear, am going home, do you want to drop me? That’s when my memory clicked…she was the chic I met on the KAO flight. Damn girl, you look as sexy as a bitch, I screamed. Come here, put some weight on my chest, I said as motioned her to hug me. We called for multiple rounds of drinks and we partied like we were in the ‘60’s! I woke up the next morning in her bed. How the fuck did I get here? I sat on the bed and looked around for clues. She came back from the kitchen with that glass of fresh orange juice and she was stack naked. I received the glass of juice and placed in on the bed side table then turned my attention back to her body...not sure which one took my attention more-body or booty. I sat between her legs while I got wet frolicking with her genitals. We got tribal and primal growling and howling until we soared to the sky and lost our selves among the stars and comets. Heaven must have been our home for longer than NASA's maiden space flight back in the 50's, 60's?.
I woke up while she was asleep and crept into my clothes. In the dinning area I found a booklet and a ball point pen. I scribbled a few words on it and tumbled down the stairs to the parking space where my 2.5L, 400HP beast sat waiting for me. I ignited the engine and the black beast coughed once and roared to life. I pulled out of the parking yard like Lwakataka on the race track.
Back in the house, she was awakened by the sound of my car downstairs. She yawned, gingerly ambled to dining room where her attention was drawn to my note on the dining table. She read it and tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t believe that I was leaving her and I wasn’t coming back again. You fucking bastard, you can’t break up with me, not just yet, she screamed and smashed an empty juice glass against the wall. A million splintered pieces of glass ricocheted off from the point of impact on wall and rained all over her dining area.
Three days later, she checked herself into a hospital along Entebbe road because she was suicidal. Then she had her mother call me and leave me voicemails and messages trying to get me to take her back. She went on all my social media accounts and liked all my pictures and posts from the past year so I blocked her on everything. I ended up having to change my phone number because she constantly called and texted me begging to take her back, then when I didn't reply she insulted me and threatened me. She sent me a box with $400 worth of gifts for my birthday. The day preceding my birthday she created a fake account on Facebook and messaged me 25 times. She's insane, I thought.
I woke up on the 10th of October and a truck was hooting at my residential gate. The truck was fully loaded with household accoutrements. I recognized a few of the items and that’s when I knew I was fucked. Bitch was moving in with me by force!
Three days later, I was out at Hooters with my O’G’s Dillar and Sil sipping at half a dozen brown Bell Lager bottles on our table when a light skinned, petiite chic dressed in a polka dot skin tight dress to the knees hugged me from the back. A fresh scent of tropical fruits assailed my sense of smell like a Trojan infantry descending on the Achaeans. You are my type and I love your scent, I said while turning to figure out who the hell this blessed piece of sexy ass was. She walked around to the front of my chair and I saw she was wearing six-inch Louboutin peep toes that complemented the black dots on her dress. She bent over and whispered in my ear, am going home, do you want to drop me? That’s when my memory clicked…she was the chic I met on the KAO flight. Damn girl, you look as sexy as a bitch, I screamed. Come here, put some weight on my chest, I said as motioned her to hug me. We called for multiple rounds of drinks and we partied like we were in the ‘60’s! I woke up the next morning in her bed. How the fuck did I get here? I sat on the bed and looked around for clues. She came back from the kitchen with that glass of fresh orange juice and she was stack naked. I received the glass of juice and placed in on the bed side table then turned my attention back to her body...not sure which one took my attention more-body or booty. I sat between her legs while I got wet frolicking with her genitals. We got tribal and primal growling and howling until we soared to the sky and lost our selves among the stars and comets. Heaven must have been our home for longer than NASA's maiden space flight back in the 50's, 60's?.
I woke up while she was asleep and crept into my clothes. In the dinning area I found a booklet and a ball point pen. I scribbled a few words on it and tumbled down the stairs to the parking space where my 2.5L, 400HP beast sat waiting for me. I ignited the engine and the black beast coughed once and roared to life. I pulled out of the parking yard like Lwakataka on the race track.
Back in the house, she was awakened by the sound of my car downstairs. She yawned, gingerly ambled to dining room where her attention was drawn to my note on the dining table. She read it and tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t believe that I was leaving her and I wasn’t coming back again. You fucking bastard, you can’t break up with me, not just yet, she screamed and smashed an empty juice glass against the wall. A million splintered pieces of glass ricocheted off from the point of impact on wall and rained all over her dining area.
Three days later, she checked herself into a hospital along Entebbe road because she was suicidal. Then she had her mother call me and leave me voicemails and messages trying to get me to take her back. She went on all my social media accounts and liked all my pictures and posts from the past year so I blocked her on everything. I ended up having to change my phone number because she constantly called and texted me begging to take her back, then when I didn't reply she insulted me and threatened me. She sent me a box with $400 worth of gifts for my birthday. The day preceding my birthday she created a fake account on Facebook and messaged me 25 times. She's insane, I thought.
I woke up on the 10th of October and a truck was hooting at my residential gate. The truck was fully loaded with household accoutrements. I recognized a few of the items and that’s when I knew I was fucked. Bitch was moving in with me by force!
Friday, 4 March 2016
Intricate Feelings
Do you know what it feels like to be born with a dick? A big dick? It
feels like driving a big six by six truck through a muddy road and
going past all those small tin cars stuck in the mud. Something like
driving an armored H2 Hummer truck along Kampala road while others are
driving Premios and Vitzs. It feels like being the only tall guy in a
room full of whining midgets. Do you know what I feels like to wake up
in the morning to big erect dick? Do you know? Well, I’ll tell you. It
feels like waking up to a naked Munyankole girl next to you in bed. It
feels like having a heavy wallet laden with 50 crisp notes of Ugx.
50.000 shillings and not having anything to do with it. So I wake up in
the morning to my gorgeous Diana lying next to me spread-eagled. Her
bare back glowing against the morning rays of the sun sneaking into our
dark room through the slits in the curtains to illuminate her sexy body.
Am in a trance staring at her impeccable beauty when my dick creeps up
on me and whispers to her…good morning beautiful!
Do you know what it feels like to walk around all day with balls hanging below your dick? It feels like walking around with a pair of cabbages around your neck. It feels like having to run a race with a pair of eggs between your legs. You want to run but you also don’t want to crack the shells of the eggs. They are so important yet they are equally so susceptible to pain. So I walk around with dire precaution, with surgical precision as though I have a pair of newly born twins between my legs.
Do you know what a burden it is to carry sperms inside you? It feels like a being a terrorist with a jacket full of explosives strapped around your chest. You have this over boring feeling in your gut that anytime you can choose to give life or take it by choosing between a blow job or a quickie. Sperm is that bad ass tadpole that's gotta be corralled in a rubber if you are broke or unready for responsibility, that white squiggly liquid which causes your life to be ruined when it reaches the wrong woman’s egg. We men are a a breed of terrorists with sperm loads roaming the world and looking for just that right target to unload our spoof into…. We pillage every village along the way, fight random sperm soldiers, and carry on our normal routine until we find what we're looking for..... Women.
Have you ever been on a roller coaster? Do you know the feeling you get when it starts the ascent? It feels like you are superman ascending to new galaxies. Then you get to the peak and you start descending, you feel like you are falling freely from the sky. You feel like your life is coming to end and then, all over a sudden, all the motion comes to a halt. The wind stops blowing, the sounds die out and you are finally at ease, at peace, safe. That’s how you feel when you have had mad, hot fucks with your neighbor’s daughter and you chide yourself for not wearing the rubber only for her to tell you three weeks later, she’s HIV –ve and she just completed her cycle!
Do you understand the responsibility that comes with having both Pubic hair and a beard? Women are lucky, they just have to deal with pubic only. We guys have to deal with a beard as well. You sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and you feel like a fuzzy little animal. Something like a squirrel or a badger. You run your fingers from your chest, down to your pelvic area and back to your face and you feel like you just touched a Capybara. So you wake up and stumble into your bathroom to shave the fur off your body. Only then are you able to sleep and feel like Adam in Eden-butt naked.
Have you ever had a wet dream? Well, your body in unison with your adolescent mind creates the perfect image of an angel with slutty ways and this drop -dead sexy angel caresses your manhood to dick-hard proportions while you are a sleep. Then the angel starts to give you that badass blowjob before she sits tight on your iron bar dick only to get up and walk away. Suddenly you are running after her and begging for her to come back and finish what she started. She stops in her tracks and does the Miley Cyrus twerk and boom- you jerk off. The spoof rides out of your dick like a 38 caliber slug leaving a double barrel and crashes somewhere all over your bed sheets. You feel so good until you are awakened out of your sleep by a warm low viscosity substance oozing down your thigh. You wake up suddenly with your heartbeat going nuts and you are exasperated for having messed up your beddings. Now you have to change sheets and wash the soiled ones first thing in the morning.
Being a normal horny man isn't a lot of responsibility. It isn't concerned with lot of accountability or transparency either. Having a dick and being able to use it to satisfy a woman’s desires and probably create life is only a first step to being man. Being able to do that makes you mere Zinjanthropus and being Zinjanthropus is only inadequate. So you need to evolve and transcend that stone age existence of only being able to hunt and gather. Fucking and being able to cum is comparable to early man only being able to hunt and gather. As a Man you have to evolve and become tamed and obedient to your mistress. Your mistress is your partner, your girlfriend, your wife not your side bitch . Loving her and respecting her alone as your only mistress makes you her master. A real master is one that is faithful and loves his mistress alone. A man lives for something; a purpose beyond his own personal gains. This can come with time, and with family. A Man Understands the value of work and is financially responsible, Knows right from wrong and always strives to make virtuous choices. I do not relate to members of the opposite sex in a flirtatious or forward manner, but instead I save my sexual expressions for my angel. If I am the king then Diana is the queen! We rock!
Do you know what it feels like to walk around all day with balls hanging below your dick? It feels like walking around with a pair of cabbages around your neck. It feels like having to run a race with a pair of eggs between your legs. You want to run but you also don’t want to crack the shells of the eggs. They are so important yet they are equally so susceptible to pain. So I walk around with dire precaution, with surgical precision as though I have a pair of newly born twins between my legs.
Do you know what a burden it is to carry sperms inside you? It feels like a being a terrorist with a jacket full of explosives strapped around your chest. You have this over boring feeling in your gut that anytime you can choose to give life or take it by choosing between a blow job or a quickie. Sperm is that bad ass tadpole that's gotta be corralled in a rubber if you are broke or unready for responsibility, that white squiggly liquid which causes your life to be ruined when it reaches the wrong woman’s egg. We men are a a breed of terrorists with sperm loads roaming the world and looking for just that right target to unload our spoof into…. We pillage every village along the way, fight random sperm soldiers, and carry on our normal routine until we find what we're looking for..... Women.
Have you ever been on a roller coaster? Do you know the feeling you get when it starts the ascent? It feels like you are superman ascending to new galaxies. Then you get to the peak and you start descending, you feel like you are falling freely from the sky. You feel like your life is coming to end and then, all over a sudden, all the motion comes to a halt. The wind stops blowing, the sounds die out and you are finally at ease, at peace, safe. That’s how you feel when you have had mad, hot fucks with your neighbor’s daughter and you chide yourself for not wearing the rubber only for her to tell you three weeks later, she’s HIV –ve and she just completed her cycle!
Do you understand the responsibility that comes with having both Pubic hair and a beard? Women are lucky, they just have to deal with pubic only. We guys have to deal with a beard as well. You sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and you feel like a fuzzy little animal. Something like a squirrel or a badger. You run your fingers from your chest, down to your pelvic area and back to your face and you feel like you just touched a Capybara. So you wake up and stumble into your bathroom to shave the fur off your body. Only then are you able to sleep and feel like Adam in Eden-butt naked.
Have you ever had a wet dream? Well, your body in unison with your adolescent mind creates the perfect image of an angel with slutty ways and this drop -dead sexy angel caresses your manhood to dick-hard proportions while you are a sleep. Then the angel starts to give you that badass blowjob before she sits tight on your iron bar dick only to get up and walk away. Suddenly you are running after her and begging for her to come back and finish what she started. She stops in her tracks and does the Miley Cyrus twerk and boom- you jerk off. The spoof rides out of your dick like a 38 caliber slug leaving a double barrel and crashes somewhere all over your bed sheets. You feel so good until you are awakened out of your sleep by a warm low viscosity substance oozing down your thigh. You wake up suddenly with your heartbeat going nuts and you are exasperated for having messed up your beddings. Now you have to change sheets and wash the soiled ones first thing in the morning.
Being a normal horny man isn't a lot of responsibility. It isn't concerned with lot of accountability or transparency either. Having a dick and being able to use it to satisfy a woman’s desires and probably create life is only a first step to being man. Being able to do that makes you mere Zinjanthropus and being Zinjanthropus is only inadequate. So you need to evolve and transcend that stone age existence of only being able to hunt and gather. Fucking and being able to cum is comparable to early man only being able to hunt and gather. As a Man you have to evolve and become tamed and obedient to your mistress. Your mistress is your partner, your girlfriend, your wife not your side bitch . Loving her and respecting her alone as your only mistress makes you her master. A real master is one that is faithful and loves his mistress alone. A man lives for something; a purpose beyond his own personal gains. This can come with time, and with family. A Man Understands the value of work and is financially responsible, Knows right from wrong and always strives to make virtuous choices. I do not relate to members of the opposite sex in a flirtatious or forward manner, but instead I save my sexual expressions for my angel. If I am the king then Diana is the queen! We rock!
Hell of a Price to Pay
I met this girl on a domestic flight from KAO to KAJ. This was many
years go. It was a 45 minutes flight and she took the seat next to me in
that little 10 seater Cessna CitationJet. I didn’t pay her no
attention. I just sat there and buried myself in Robert Ludlum’s third
chapter of the Cry of the Hallidon. I wore a pair of huge Peltor
Tactical XP Neck ear muffs since I was seated just about adjacent to the
twin Engine plane’s left wing The engine’s relatively high-pitched wail
was so loud as the little bird ascended to about 5000 miles above sea
level. The monotonous muffed sound of the engine must have lulled me to
sleep for I woke up about 30 minutes later and we were already hovering
over Kajjansi. The aerial view as usual breathtaking. She must have been
taken up by the beauty for she said something to me that I didn’t hear.
Not wanting to let me be she nudged me. I took down my muffs and I
turned to look at her. I was upset with myself for having ignored her
since KAO. She was the most beautiful piece of ass I had seen since the
beginning of the year. When the plane landed at KAJ, I helped her with
her luggage and even went the extra mile of dropping her off at her
residential apartment. I politely turned down an invite to step in for a
glass of fresh orange juice under the pretext that I had business to
take care of in town. Soon as I left her place, I was greeted by the
lowest traffic on Entebbe road since the 2010 Alshabab attacks in
Kampala. With Rick Ross’ Rich forever album blaring out of my car
stereo, the twin cam supercharged engine of my ST/B roared past taxis
and a few cheap cars on the route. “Somebody lied, I’ve gotta chopper in
the car…” I chorused with Lil’ Wayne on the remix of the “Am not a
star” song. I got home in time and I soon forgot about the girl I met on
the flight.
Three days later, I was out at Hooters with my O’G’s Dillar and Sil sipping at half a dozen brown Bell Lager bottles on our table when a light skinned, petiite chic dressed in a polka dot skin tight dress to the knees hugged me from the back. A fresh scent of tropical fruits assailed my sense of smell like a Trojan infantry descending on the Achaeans. You are my type and I love your scent, I said while turning to figure out who the hell this blessed piece of sexy ass was. She walked around to the front of my chair and I saw she was wearing six-inch Louboutin peep toes that complemented the black dots on her dress. She bent over and whispered in my ear, am going home, do you want to drop me? That’s when my memory clicked…she was the chic I met on the KAO flight. Damn girl, you look as sexy as a bitch, I screamed. Come here, put some weight on my chest, I said as motioned her to hug me. We called for multiple rounds of drinks and we partied like we were in the ‘60’s! I woke up the next morning in her bed. How the fuck did I get here? I sat on the bed and looked around for clues. She came back from the kitchen with that glass of fresh orange juice and she was stack naked. I received the glass of juice and placed in on the bed side table then turned my attention back to her body...not sure which one took my attention more-body or booty. I sat between her legs while I got wet frolicking with her genitals. We got tribal and primal growling and howling until we soared to the sky and lost our selves among the stars and comets. Heaven must have been our home for longer than NASA's maiden space flight back in the 50's, 60's?.
I woke up while she was asleep and crept into my clothes. In the dinning area I found a booklet and a ball point pen. I scribbled a few words on it and tumbled down the stairs to the parking space where my 2.5L, 400HP beast sat waiting for me. I ignited the engine and the black beast coughed once and roared to life. I pulled out of the parking yard like Lwakataka on the race track.
Back in the house, she was awakened by the sound of my car downstairs. She yawned, gingerly ambled to dining room where her attention was drawn to my note on the dining table. She read it and tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t believe that I was leaving her and I wasn’t coming back again. You fucking bastard, you can’t break up with me, not just yet, she screamed and smashed an empty juice glass against the wall. A million splintered pieces of glass ricocheted off from the point of impact on wall and rained all over her dining area.
Three days later, she checked herself into a hospital along Entebbe road because she was suicidal. Then she had her mother call me and leave me voicemails and messages trying to get me to take her back. She went on all my social media accounts and liked all my pictures and posts from the past year so I blocked her on everything. I ended up having to change my phone number because she constantly called and texted me begging to take her back, then when I didn't reply she insulted me and threatened me. She sent me a box with $400 worth of gifts for my birthday. The day preceding my birthday she created a fake account on Facebook and messaged me 25 times. She's insane, I thought.
I woke up on the 10th of October and a truck was hooting at my residential gate. The truck was fully loaded with household accoutrements. I recognized a few of the items and that’s when I knew I was fucked. Bitch was moving in with me by force!
Three days later, I was out at Hooters with my O’G’s Dillar and Sil sipping at half a dozen brown Bell Lager bottles on our table when a light skinned, petiite chic dressed in a polka dot skin tight dress to the knees hugged me from the back. A fresh scent of tropical fruits assailed my sense of smell like a Trojan infantry descending on the Achaeans. You are my type and I love your scent, I said while turning to figure out who the hell this blessed piece of sexy ass was. She walked around to the front of my chair and I saw she was wearing six-inch Louboutin peep toes that complemented the black dots on her dress. She bent over and whispered in my ear, am going home, do you want to drop me? That’s when my memory clicked…she was the chic I met on the KAO flight. Damn girl, you look as sexy as a bitch, I screamed. Come here, put some weight on my chest, I said as motioned her to hug me. We called for multiple rounds of drinks and we partied like we were in the ‘60’s! I woke up the next morning in her bed. How the fuck did I get here? I sat on the bed and looked around for clues. She came back from the kitchen with that glass of fresh orange juice and she was stack naked. I received the glass of juice and placed in on the bed side table then turned my attention back to her body...not sure which one took my attention more-body or booty. I sat between her legs while I got wet frolicking with her genitals. We got tribal and primal growling and howling until we soared to the sky and lost our selves among the stars and comets. Heaven must have been our home for longer than NASA's maiden space flight back in the 50's, 60's?.
I woke up while she was asleep and crept into my clothes. In the dinning area I found a booklet and a ball point pen. I scribbled a few words on it and tumbled down the stairs to the parking space where my 2.5L, 400HP beast sat waiting for me. I ignited the engine and the black beast coughed once and roared to life. I pulled out of the parking yard like Lwakataka on the race track.
Back in the house, she was awakened by the sound of my car downstairs. She yawned, gingerly ambled to dining room where her attention was drawn to my note on the dining table. She read it and tears rolled down her face. She couldn’t believe that I was leaving her and I wasn’t coming back again. You fucking bastard, you can’t break up with me, not just yet, she screamed and smashed an empty juice glass against the wall. A million splintered pieces of glass ricocheted off from the point of impact on wall and rained all over her dining area.
Three days later, she checked herself into a hospital along Entebbe road because she was suicidal. Then she had her mother call me and leave me voicemails and messages trying to get me to take her back. She went on all my social media accounts and liked all my pictures and posts from the past year so I blocked her on everything. I ended up having to change my phone number because she constantly called and texted me begging to take her back, then when I didn't reply she insulted me and threatened me. She sent me a box with $400 worth of gifts for my birthday. The day preceding my birthday she created a fake account on Facebook and messaged me 25 times. She's insane, I thought.
I woke up on the 10th of October and a truck was hooting at my residential gate. The truck was fully loaded with household accoutrements. I recognized a few of the items and that’s when I knew I was fucked. Bitch was moving in with me by force!
Wednesday, 2 March 2016
Lost
I took a bus to run away from myself. I carried nothing with me lest
my travel paraphernalia remind of myself. I wanted to get lost in an
outlandish faraway place so I took a bus to a bizarre place the bus
operator referred to as Idontknowwhere. Five days I was on that bus,
five nights I sat awake in my seat and stared at the blackness of the
night. Five days of staring at the fleeting darkness left me in a state
of pseudo blindness that even when the sun finally came up in the
morning, all I saw was darkness. I lost some of my five senses and I
became apathetic to beauty and sound. The mornings that had so often in
the past been my best part of the day were now just a dull passing of
time’s slow dragging motion.
When the bus finally reached that place called Idontknowwhere, it was ten days later. I was only conscious of five. The rest of the five days must have been spent in euphoria for I journeyed far away in lands yet undiscovered by neo-man. In my odysseys, I communed with humanoid forms who had eyes on each side of their heads. They had the most beautiful inhabitance anyone could imagine. More magnificent that the exotic places Jules Vern saw in his 80 days around the world. I spent what seemed like eons learning from my hosts, sharing experiences and watching life grow out of thin air and spread out in white, agile wisps of beautiful thermal blossoms. In my mind, I conceived them as spirits…pristine spirits, untainted with the maze of worldly inequity. I was moved to believe that one is born with a spirit but as life wanes on, sin consumes the once pristine spirit getting it entangled in the life long quest to escape the intricate maze of sin and later when one dies, the spirit is so tanned with sin it ceases to be a spirit but rather becomes known as a ghost. A ghost is that lesser spectacle of a spirit that has fallen short of righteousness and is thus liable to condemnation, judgment and ultimately redemption.
So I woke up five days later still in this bus. The acrid stench of cheap cigarette smoke saturated the confined spaces of the bus’ closed windows. Just as my eyes where getting acclimatized with the environment, I heard a voice speak. It was the voice of a young girl about 5 years old. So I turned around to follow the source of the voice and all my senses that seemed to come back to me came face to face with a marvel. The 5 year old’s voice came from one of the humanoid forms in had communed with in euphoria. I felt as though my spirit was being lifted right out of my body. Am I dying? I asked myself before I became aware of the trembling in the bus. The trembling grew greater in magnitude and I suddenly couldn’t feel my legs. I could see trees being shaken out of their deep roots through the dust-daubed windows of the bus. My fear manifested itself through a sudden perspiration and the taste of bile on my tongue. Desperation set in as I couldn’t move myself at all, death prowled all over my peripherals. I cried to the eccentric life form to save me and she just watched me as though my plight amused her. From the corner of my eye, I saw a fire growing at the back of the bus, I could now feel the back of my head being roasted. I couldn’t breathe no more. Oblivious to the passage of time or any pain, my hair caught fire and I saw the hot blue flames engulf me and continue to swallow the entire bus. The last sound I heard was a huge blast. A huge, obscene blast that sounded as though the entire world was being blown apart by a trillion megatons of the world’s vilest hydrogen bomb.
I found myself standing in space, perched on a static cloud. I looked at my hands and I was spooked for I had no hands yet I could move them. I moved my right hand to my left shoulder and I felt myself. My relief was only momentary for even though I could feel myself, I couldn’t see myself. My avid brain quickly processed the matter and reiterated to me that I was blind. So I closed my eyes and I could see a thousand hills bursting with picturesque waterfalls and rainbows that seemed to run from one edge of the world to the crest of the heavens. Am not blind, I told myself as I opened my eyes. I could now see the wind and molecules of air floating about the space in front of me in half hazard motions. I was standing on a cloud half way between the moon and the earth but I could hear voices from three worlds away. What have I become? , I asked myself. I searched hard and deep to find myself but I couldn’t. I was lost, lost to myself, lost to the world. I had become something I couldn’t see, something I couldn’t find, something is couldn’t explain. I was lost. I wasn’t a ghost.
When the bus finally reached that place called Idontknowwhere, it was ten days later. I was only conscious of five. The rest of the five days must have been spent in euphoria for I journeyed far away in lands yet undiscovered by neo-man. In my odysseys, I communed with humanoid forms who had eyes on each side of their heads. They had the most beautiful inhabitance anyone could imagine. More magnificent that the exotic places Jules Vern saw in his 80 days around the world. I spent what seemed like eons learning from my hosts, sharing experiences and watching life grow out of thin air and spread out in white, agile wisps of beautiful thermal blossoms. In my mind, I conceived them as spirits…pristine spirits, untainted with the maze of worldly inequity. I was moved to believe that one is born with a spirit but as life wanes on, sin consumes the once pristine spirit getting it entangled in the life long quest to escape the intricate maze of sin and later when one dies, the spirit is so tanned with sin it ceases to be a spirit but rather becomes known as a ghost. A ghost is that lesser spectacle of a spirit that has fallen short of righteousness and is thus liable to condemnation, judgment and ultimately redemption.
So I woke up five days later still in this bus. The acrid stench of cheap cigarette smoke saturated the confined spaces of the bus’ closed windows. Just as my eyes where getting acclimatized with the environment, I heard a voice speak. It was the voice of a young girl about 5 years old. So I turned around to follow the source of the voice and all my senses that seemed to come back to me came face to face with a marvel. The 5 year old’s voice came from one of the humanoid forms in had communed with in euphoria. I felt as though my spirit was being lifted right out of my body. Am I dying? I asked myself before I became aware of the trembling in the bus. The trembling grew greater in magnitude and I suddenly couldn’t feel my legs. I could see trees being shaken out of their deep roots through the dust-daubed windows of the bus. My fear manifested itself through a sudden perspiration and the taste of bile on my tongue. Desperation set in as I couldn’t move myself at all, death prowled all over my peripherals. I cried to the eccentric life form to save me and she just watched me as though my plight amused her. From the corner of my eye, I saw a fire growing at the back of the bus, I could now feel the back of my head being roasted. I couldn’t breathe no more. Oblivious to the passage of time or any pain, my hair caught fire and I saw the hot blue flames engulf me and continue to swallow the entire bus. The last sound I heard was a huge blast. A huge, obscene blast that sounded as though the entire world was being blown apart by a trillion megatons of the world’s vilest hydrogen bomb.
I found myself standing in space, perched on a static cloud. I looked at my hands and I was spooked for I had no hands yet I could move them. I moved my right hand to my left shoulder and I felt myself. My relief was only momentary for even though I could feel myself, I couldn’t see myself. My avid brain quickly processed the matter and reiterated to me that I was blind. So I closed my eyes and I could see a thousand hills bursting with picturesque waterfalls and rainbows that seemed to run from one edge of the world to the crest of the heavens. Am not blind, I told myself as I opened my eyes. I could now see the wind and molecules of air floating about the space in front of me in half hazard motions. I was standing on a cloud half way between the moon and the earth but I could hear voices from three worlds away. What have I become? , I asked myself. I searched hard and deep to find myself but I couldn’t. I was lost, lost to myself, lost to the world. I had become something I couldn’t see, something I couldn’t find, something is couldn’t explain. I was lost. I wasn’t a ghost.
Tuesday, 1 March 2016
One Thousand Questions, Forget about the Answers!
Who is that man in the hat? How does he sleep with so much blood on his hands? Does he kneel down once every decade to pray? Does he ever fast, does he know hunger? Does he know peace? How can a man with so many guns and a million goons know Peace? Does he feed his demons with the blood of the mothers who die giving birth every day? Or does he shower himself with the blood of the many Ugandans who breath their last in Mulago and fade away into oblivion? Does he if truth be told have a wife? Does she in fact love him? How does she kiss and caress him? How do they consummate their marriage in a bed inundated with a thousand crawling larvae of Brachyceran flies? Someone ask her about what it feel like to sell your Soul to devil and watch his devour it? What does it feel like to sleep with the devil and kiss him on the lips and tell him “I love you”?. Tell me, does the Devil kiss her back and squeal his underlying love for her on the crown of her pelvic bounty? Where their offspring conceived in love and grace or rather in rape and hate? Being the devil’s wife, what does that make her-a devillete?? What color of underwear does the devil wear? Is the devil the man who rigged the polls or rather the man who declared the other winner of the rigged polls? Or is the devil the man who seats in front of the police spikes and speaks to the world?
Does the sun shine in his heart? When he laughs, does his voice growl with the woeful cries of the disgruntled and disenfranchised Ugandans? Or does he cry and bang his bold head against the walls of his state of the art toilet? Some argue that he is a bigoted maniac who binges on hate and pain but I still ask, Is his heart darker than the crypts of the Lost, forgotten and departed souls of the Luwero Triangle? Isn’t he the atheist coward who insults and blasphemes against the Christian faith or does he also go ahead to perform sinister rituals in that mausoleum he calls home under the heavy guard of the imps in camouflaged uniforms? Is he really safe? Doesn’t his chest heave in panic under his errant heart when he sees his own shadow? Who would have known that a man who took a Bible and used it as a tool to slay his own blood and flesh would end up living in a mausoleum and have catacombs extending to the marshy showers of Africa’s biggest fresh water lake? Who knew that the slowest thinkers would be the ones with eagle-sight to see the future? Are they fortune tellers or do they use the services of soothsayers? Are the lies they so single-mindedly sell really visions or merely poison? Are they really alive or they are just zombies from a past life, zombies who clawed their way out of their ossuaries and took the form of men? How could they be so selfish and so blind but still be able to be the only enlightened men that have the vision that all the other Ugandans are oblivious to?
Are we really sane? Or are we are rather earthworms crawling in a mucky wasteland without purpose or vision? Are we me jokers or are they the real jokers who are so funny that we giggle and point at them in crackling laughter? Are they serious enough to send a mad man to represent them or do they fall short of sanity to send an intersexual failure to represent them in this day and age? Are they not the ones that begot and natured the snake? And are they not the ones that cry foul when the same snake strikes their ankle? Do they now hate the snake and seek to kill it? Tell me, who is that snake and whose snake is it? How would a turkey win the fight when its opponent is a Cassowary? Who won the fight or rather the brawl? Isn’t it the spectators in the auditorium that instead went home with bloody noses? Who got paid? Who took home all that money in the heavy sisal bags? How many questions are these so far? Where is that pig? Who hired the pig? Who read the Animal farm? Who is that genius who dressed the golden ring on that pig’s snout and gave it the powers over life and death? Who are those unlegislated bandits who assaulted the piglets and used God-given powers to change their colors? What color did they paint them? Were they out of their mind? Is it during that troubling time when the bedbugs learnt a lesson from the pig or were they piglets? Did the bed bugs survive? Could they have survived long enough for the rats to overtake them? Where are the rats by the way? Did the leopard unleash a prehistoric beast to hunt down the rats and annihilate them? Are the rats extinct yet?
Where is the love? Where is the tolerance? Where is the rule of law? Since when did tyranny become heroic? Did we downgrade from humans to animals? Where is sky? Did we replace the sky with the growling gloom of Hades? Where is the light? Where are we? Where will we be tomorrow? Who will be with us or within us to decapitate us? Will they kill us all or will they live forever? Who am I? How did we get here? What on earth is going on? Are we alone in this?
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