As a true sensible African man, a full hot blooded African male at that, am quite perturbed at all the hullaballoo surrounding Mr. Tiger Woods’s private life. I believe the only tacit contract that we, the public, have with Mr. Tiger Woods revolves around how he swings his golf stick, whether it hits the ball or not and whether it translates into another PGA title or a Major. What is surprising me is the appetite that the blood thirsty tabloids have about how he swings his other natural stick, who it hits, and the title of the woman that it hits. The fascination should be the holes he hits in the US Open, British Open, San Diego etc, not the holes of porn stars, waitresses and stewardesses his balls have found a hole in.
To me, this is utter rubbish. A man is entitled to some more extra-curricular activities apart from what you are paid for. How else would a man celebrate his achievements if not to cavort and carouse. Married or not. Why would any one go an extra mile to achieve success, fame and money if not to occasionally show off to women? Do you, in your wildest dreams, expect Tiger Woods to proclaim his tigritude in the field and retire home to Elin? Everyday of his life?
It doesn’t work that way. We measure the amount of success by the number of women your power dazzles to bed. Your wife is there to criticize you; your mistresses are there to massage your ego. It has been an unwritten law since the beginning of time. It will be so till the end of time. J.F Kennedy and Brothers, Bill Clinton, Albert Einstein, Sulvio Berlusconi, Sani Abacha, Mobuto Sesse Seko, Jacob Zuma…the list is endless. Tiger is in good company.
Extra-marital sex is the hallmark of success!
Celebrities are human too. We should not expect of them some standards that we can’t apply to ourselves.
I was quite heartened by his fellow golfers who came to his defense. They know what good sport sex is! They are as guilty as Woods, only that they are not as newsworthy/tabloidsworthy. Even Jesus knew it too well, thousand of years ago; he came to the defense of a prostitute by daring any man who was not guilty of adultery to throw the first stone. Even in those moral days, not one man dared!
Elin is being unfair to all other women who want a share of the action that Tiger Woods is. I am sure he accepted Woods partly because for his success. He should have been ready for this. It was part of the implicit package. She knew too well that she was not marrying another bloke on the street. The fact that Tiger was shy does not mean that women will not make a pass on him. If a fellow is shy in making a move, it doesn’t mean he is shy in accepting one.
Elin should not make unfair demands on Woods, as long he puts food on the table, answers when the kids shout ‘daddy’, be present for her and the kids occasionally, that is what a good father and husband is all about. Beyond that is just but a Hollywood movie.
The world should stop making Elin feel like a victim in all this. She should be told in no uncertain terms that all real men are all like that. Even in the Vatican. You should only be worried if your man does not dog around. It shows you married a good-for-nothing society reject.
Let Tiger frolic in the woods like all other tigers.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
How To Get a Woman in Bed on the First Date!
When I was young, the only thing I could do to gals was staring at them. What I got back from them was, well, a stare. I wanted them like hell. My dick could harden till it hurt but its handler didn’t know how to make the gals remove their panties and get out the much needed pussie. Had the looks and all that it could take to get a woman in bed. I just could not figure out what was missing. Tried money, go-betweens etc. they all failed. I was miserable.
That is now behind me. I have laid every other woman I have lusted since then. I discovered what was missing. The following tips work for me:
CONFIDENCE- this is what gets all women to bed in record time. Without confidence on your side, then you gonna do wet dreams all your wretched life. Ever heard the adage that ‘a faint heart never won a fair lady’? It can never be more precise than that. Gals will always hang around guys with tones of self confidence. Display confidence, talk to a gal with confidence. Don’t fear what she is gonna reply. If you talk with vigor, energy and power she is gonna be forced to reply. Note that it takes confidence to stop a beautiful gal in the street. Gals have a tendency to be serious and dismissive at first, unless you are confident, you will freeze and disappear. I have discovered that 90% of them don’t mean it. They are just testing whether they are dealing with a real man or a wimp. If you insist, you may bed that woman the same day or the next. You can fake confidence till you make it. Practice creates habits!
Don’t overdo the confidence bit lest you be seen proud, smug or arrogant.
HUMOR- you will never date, fuck or marry any gal if she doesn’t smile or laugh first. Even sluts can be choosy at time. Put a gal at ease by being funny, humorous and lively. If she smiles or laugh then you have her. If you want to break the ice and launch a conversation, pick up a funny situation or throw a funny line. Once she has laughed or smiled, go ahead and talk her into a date. When you meet a gal in a bus or train, the hardest thing is to initiate a conversation. A funny comment about the weather or anything interesting on the road can break the ice. From there it is easy to steer a conversation till you exchange contacts.
WIT- if you are not humorous, then wit can do. Wit and humor goes hand in hand but one can do when the other is lacking. Well crafted anecdotes lower a woman’s guard. You don’t have to be original; you can read them on the internet. Watch out though, some gals may miss the wit in your statements and you end up laughing alone. Very embarrassing. Gals, even dumb blondes, don’t suffer nitwits gladly. Play Einstein!
Don’t overdo the wits. Can kill a story. Be balanced otherwise you will sound like an ancient catholic monk!
SERIOUSNESS- A very important factor. In general talk, be lively. When it gets to the real business of procuring a date, change your tone and be serious. Gals don’t like this issue being taken lightly; talk it like you doing a PowerPoint presentation in a business seminar. This is how they want it. Laugh like a moron and you walk home alone.
Don’t forget eye contact.
FLATTER- Compliment a woman’s beauty, dress, perfume, hair, intelligence, anything and you are her hero. Women like being appreciated. Even when they don’t deserve it. That is why they spent all that time in the mirror. Do it everyday of your life. Pretend it when it gets boring. It does.
Do it in a way that you appear real. If she ever thinks you are being ironical, you will be hated worse than acne.
READ HER MIND- different women open their vaginas for different reasons. Always read her expectations. Some wants to be married. If she is this type, play the future husband, eligible Mr. Right. Some wants pleasure. Look like you can make her have ten orgasms in a minute. Some want money from you. Play the millionaire. Some want to show off with you. Dress to kill. Etc
Always read her expectation in advance and act the part.
WEIGH YOUR CHANCES- always hunt within your social limits. Cute women would always go for moneyed guys. Rich women will most likely fuck their class. Don’t push your luck too far. There are exceptions but watch out. It is not fun being turned down. I know.
PLAYFUL- When you take your catch home for the final act don’t think it is direct to bed. Sex can be long in coming. All the female species from donkeys to chickens don’t consent to sex in a direct way. You got to struggle. If you not careful then she might leave your house with her pussie intact. Alone with a woman, be playful and scheming. I aint seen a woman who removes her panty, jump to bed, part her legs and beg you to screw her on the first date. NEVER.
Be manipulative. Start by admiring her nails. Hold her palm and squeeze her fingers. Kiss her hand. Always talk words of admiration. If there is no resistance, caress her neck and back.
Start from the visible to the less visible. Take your time. No hurry.
Can kiss her neck. If her boobs are visible, talk about them and request to see the color of her bra. Touch the bra but not the boobs. Flatter her about how sweet her boobs are, how you are dying to kiss them. Request her to stand so you may hug her and feel her ‘full’ boobs. Hug and hold her tight. Request her that you lift her top so that you could feel them better. Expose your bare chest and press tight to her boobs and tummy. Bend, lift her bra and kiss her nipples. Kiss kiss kiss! At this level she won’t resist you kissing her mouth. As you kiss her, press your hardened dick on the position of her pussie. Do it. Reach her pussie and finger her as you kiss. Be sure not to pause, she will regain her senses. Multi-task as much as possible.
Different gals have different boiling points. Most will give in at this stage. If not (young gals are particularly hard) go to the next stage.
Undo the gals trouser on the pretence that you wonna kiss her pussie. If she refuses, wear a condom and tell her you almost coming. Beg her to open her thighs so you do mock sex and ejaculate. Call her sweet names. Tell her not to be mean. Assure her that you won’t get to her cunt. Tell her clothes won’t be soiled because you got a condom on. Start with her thighs and slowly progress into her into her pussie. Push her panty aside. Dip your dick in and fuck like a maniac. You will fuck each other happily ever after!
Real consensual sex is non-existent. Be a bit forceful.
GALS ALWAYS RESIST SEX BUT AFTER YOU FUCK THEM, THEY NEVER COMPLAIN.
The feeling is mutual, only that they can’t make the first move.Never be fooled by a chick who seems to resist. Give up and she will hate you. Fuck her and she will be happy!
Give this a try and get back to me. It works!
That is now behind me. I have laid every other woman I have lusted since then. I discovered what was missing. The following tips work for me:
CONFIDENCE- this is what gets all women to bed in record time. Without confidence on your side, then you gonna do wet dreams all your wretched life. Ever heard the adage that ‘a faint heart never won a fair lady’? It can never be more precise than that. Gals will always hang around guys with tones of self confidence. Display confidence, talk to a gal with confidence. Don’t fear what she is gonna reply. If you talk with vigor, energy and power she is gonna be forced to reply. Note that it takes confidence to stop a beautiful gal in the street. Gals have a tendency to be serious and dismissive at first, unless you are confident, you will freeze and disappear. I have discovered that 90% of them don’t mean it. They are just testing whether they are dealing with a real man or a wimp. If you insist, you may bed that woman the same day or the next. You can fake confidence till you make it. Practice creates habits!
Don’t overdo the confidence bit lest you be seen proud, smug or arrogant.
HUMOR- you will never date, fuck or marry any gal if she doesn’t smile or laugh first. Even sluts can be choosy at time. Put a gal at ease by being funny, humorous and lively. If she smiles or laugh then you have her. If you want to break the ice and launch a conversation, pick up a funny situation or throw a funny line. Once she has laughed or smiled, go ahead and talk her into a date. When you meet a gal in a bus or train, the hardest thing is to initiate a conversation. A funny comment about the weather or anything interesting on the road can break the ice. From there it is easy to steer a conversation till you exchange contacts.
WIT- if you are not humorous, then wit can do. Wit and humor goes hand in hand but one can do when the other is lacking. Well crafted anecdotes lower a woman’s guard. You don’t have to be original; you can read them on the internet. Watch out though, some gals may miss the wit in your statements and you end up laughing alone. Very embarrassing. Gals, even dumb blondes, don’t suffer nitwits gladly. Play Einstein!
Don’t overdo the wits. Can kill a story. Be balanced otherwise you will sound like an ancient catholic monk!
SERIOUSNESS- A very important factor. In general talk, be lively. When it gets to the real business of procuring a date, change your tone and be serious. Gals don’t like this issue being taken lightly; talk it like you doing a PowerPoint presentation in a business seminar. This is how they want it. Laugh like a moron and you walk home alone.
Don’t forget eye contact.
FLATTER- Compliment a woman’s beauty, dress, perfume, hair, intelligence, anything and you are her hero. Women like being appreciated. Even when they don’t deserve it. That is why they spent all that time in the mirror. Do it everyday of your life. Pretend it when it gets boring. It does.
Do it in a way that you appear real. If she ever thinks you are being ironical, you will be hated worse than acne.
READ HER MIND- different women open their vaginas for different reasons. Always read her expectations. Some wants to be married. If she is this type, play the future husband, eligible Mr. Right. Some wants pleasure. Look like you can make her have ten orgasms in a minute. Some want money from you. Play the millionaire. Some want to show off with you. Dress to kill. Etc
Always read her expectation in advance and act the part.
WEIGH YOUR CHANCES- always hunt within your social limits. Cute women would always go for moneyed guys. Rich women will most likely fuck their class. Don’t push your luck too far. There are exceptions but watch out. It is not fun being turned down. I know.
PLAYFUL- When you take your catch home for the final act don’t think it is direct to bed. Sex can be long in coming. All the female species from donkeys to chickens don’t consent to sex in a direct way. You got to struggle. If you not careful then she might leave your house with her pussie intact. Alone with a woman, be playful and scheming. I aint seen a woman who removes her panty, jump to bed, part her legs and beg you to screw her on the first date. NEVER.
Be manipulative. Start by admiring her nails. Hold her palm and squeeze her fingers. Kiss her hand. Always talk words of admiration. If there is no resistance, caress her neck and back.
Start from the visible to the less visible. Take your time. No hurry.
Can kiss her neck. If her boobs are visible, talk about them and request to see the color of her bra. Touch the bra but not the boobs. Flatter her about how sweet her boobs are, how you are dying to kiss them. Request her to stand so you may hug her and feel her ‘full’ boobs. Hug and hold her tight. Request her that you lift her top so that you could feel them better. Expose your bare chest and press tight to her boobs and tummy. Bend, lift her bra and kiss her nipples. Kiss kiss kiss! At this level she won’t resist you kissing her mouth. As you kiss her, press your hardened dick on the position of her pussie. Do it. Reach her pussie and finger her as you kiss. Be sure not to pause, she will regain her senses. Multi-task as much as possible.
Different gals have different boiling points. Most will give in at this stage. If not (young gals are particularly hard) go to the next stage.
Undo the gals trouser on the pretence that you wonna kiss her pussie. If she refuses, wear a condom and tell her you almost coming. Beg her to open her thighs so you do mock sex and ejaculate. Call her sweet names. Tell her not to be mean. Assure her that you won’t get to her cunt. Tell her clothes won’t be soiled because you got a condom on. Start with her thighs and slowly progress into her into her pussie. Push her panty aside. Dip your dick in and fuck like a maniac. You will fuck each other happily ever after!
Real consensual sex is non-existent. Be a bit forceful.
GALS ALWAYS RESIST SEX BUT AFTER YOU FUCK THEM, THEY NEVER COMPLAIN.
The feeling is mutual, only that they can’t make the first move.Never be fooled by a chick who seems to resist. Give up and she will hate you. Fuck her and she will be happy!
Give this a try and get back to me. It works!
Tiger Woods re-loaded!
Woods Mr. Clean, sports-and-nothing-off- the -pitch image has taken a beating or so you think. To me I think it is the best thing to have ever happened to him. He is now more popular than ever. I saw some of my girlfriends sign up as Woods fans in Facebook. Girls are now free to imagine a fling with him. Am sure some have already dreamt with him. He is now human: Sexy, Adventurous, Raunchy, Romantic and Alive.
I didn’t know much about him before: wife, 14 majors, ancestry, children, wealth, neighborhood, endorsements etc. now I know. Thanks to the scandals. He was just a boring fellow (he admitted in jest once). Rigid and aloof with a mean smile. He was just popular because humans are inclined not to criticize success!
I hate his clean shaven face. Now that he is got some live, he should consider a moustache.
If the brouhaha is handled well, his image will come out unscathed but upgraded. Someone we can expect some divorce, drunk driving, a three-some with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton and such like. The kind of stuff that ordinary mortals are dreaming and capable of doing if we had his money and power.
Bill Clinton picks his calls if he wants some advice on how to deal with extended post-coital effects. He should consider it. Time to make new friends with real people, in the real world.
The next big event is to appear in Oprah and tell it all like a man. Tug Elin along and give her a good family kiss. Elin to admit that he hit her with a golf stick and that he was hurt in an accident escaping from a physical confrontation with her (assume a tell-it-all mode). Woods to admit that he was in the wrong. Ask for apology from her. A hidden white rose is flushed out. A tight hug from Elin. Tears and ‘I love you’ will complete the act. The next apology; from the audience. Nobody in the world will begrudge him that.
What is lost publicly can only be regained publicly. His closed door policy is a recipe for speculations.
What we want is to feel that he is just like the rest of us in all other ways except golf. We want him to be our friend.
He can even say that his future might be in politics like Schwarzenegger. The media will start comparing and contrasting them with Obama and Michelle. That will be it.
The next should be a meeting with Reverend Al Sharpton followed by Reverend Jesse Jackson. To mend ways with his African brothers and sisters. Heard he has never been so keen about his African-American links. The details of the meetings should be kept under wraps. This will chastise his deeds by appearing remorseful and redemptive.
The biggest challenge is how to contain all the gals he has since screwed. And the ones he will screw in future. Money can silence some of them. But since the public expect them to speak out, headline tabloids, write books and appear in talk shows, the effect would not damage his reputation anymore. Woods’ admissions will put an anti-climax on them..
In future, he would rather be careful. Just like Bill.
His endorsements will be some more masculine products. Many. The money will still flow.
P.S
I wish Gordon Brown could be in a Tiger Woods situation soon; this is the only thing missing for Labour to win the next election.
I didn’t know much about him before: wife, 14 majors, ancestry, children, wealth, neighborhood, endorsements etc. now I know. Thanks to the scandals. He was just a boring fellow (he admitted in jest once). Rigid and aloof with a mean smile. He was just popular because humans are inclined not to criticize success!
I hate his clean shaven face. Now that he is got some live, he should consider a moustache.
If the brouhaha is handled well, his image will come out unscathed but upgraded. Someone we can expect some divorce, drunk driving, a three-some with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton and such like. The kind of stuff that ordinary mortals are dreaming and capable of doing if we had his money and power.
Bill Clinton picks his calls if he wants some advice on how to deal with extended post-coital effects. He should consider it. Time to make new friends with real people, in the real world.
The next big event is to appear in Oprah and tell it all like a man. Tug Elin along and give her a good family kiss. Elin to admit that he hit her with a golf stick and that he was hurt in an accident escaping from a physical confrontation with her (assume a tell-it-all mode). Woods to admit that he was in the wrong. Ask for apology from her. A hidden white rose is flushed out. A tight hug from Elin. Tears and ‘I love you’ will complete the act. The next apology; from the audience. Nobody in the world will begrudge him that.
What is lost publicly can only be regained publicly. His closed door policy is a recipe for speculations.
What we want is to feel that he is just like the rest of us in all other ways except golf. We want him to be our friend.
He can even say that his future might be in politics like Schwarzenegger. The media will start comparing and contrasting them with Obama and Michelle. That will be it.
The next should be a meeting with Reverend Al Sharpton followed by Reverend Jesse Jackson. To mend ways with his African brothers and sisters. Heard he has never been so keen about his African-American links. The details of the meetings should be kept under wraps. This will chastise his deeds by appearing remorseful and redemptive.
The biggest challenge is how to contain all the gals he has since screwed. And the ones he will screw in future. Money can silence some of them. But since the public expect them to speak out, headline tabloids, write books and appear in talk shows, the effect would not damage his reputation anymore. Woods’ admissions will put an anti-climax on them..
In future, he would rather be careful. Just like Bill.
His endorsements will be some more masculine products. Many. The money will still flow.
P.S
I wish Gordon Brown could be in a Tiger Woods situation soon; this is the only thing missing for Labour to win the next election.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Global Warming is killing sex!
You don’t damn sleep in this town. In fact you don’t gonna do nothing! Sex, sleep, talk etc aint possible. I have never cared a damn about Global Warming, Climate Change, Greenhouse Gases, CO2 emissions or whatever the rage the world is been screaming about since the beginning of this year. Bored stiff this one week. Every other news is Copenhagen UN Climate Change Conference and blah blah. Some dour crap I may say. Had never fathomed what fifteen thousand oddballs are doing in a Danish city apart from adding one sex destination to their have-been-overdone-that fucking list. Not until today. Am gonna do a letter to the UN. I wonna be its global ambassador for sex. My job is to highlight to the world the effects of Climate Change on their favorite sport. At least I have experienced it first hand.
I don’t remember abandoning a brand new pussie in bed at 3 am, first day, in a new town and of all things, type some story. This is fuckin strange. Very.
Guys, am in Mombasa town or whatever they call it in Swahili. Every thing here is in Swahili. It sucks. Guess they call it ‘Mombasaini’ just like Mikindani, Miritini, Kibarani; everything ends with ‘ni’. Even adverts are done in the same boring language. Every other soul talks in funnily accented Swahili. Even sluts.
Everybody is sweating. The heat is sweltering. The gals are beautiful. Perfect color, boobs and ass combination. But the heat don’t wonna letchu enjoy even the sight alone. Only problem is that they are talking this stupid language. I don’t gonna stand it. Yuck!
I came here yesterday. Never been here before. Never will come back. Unless when I have lotsa cash.
You see, I was drinking with my friends in Nairobi the previous night and they told me they are leaving for holiday in Mombasa with their car. I jumped on the adventure. There is been a lot of rave about this island. Am never one with travelling but with a free ride then it is worth giving it a try. I was assured of free sex, beer, food and accommodation. In that order of priority. One of my close friends is living here. He is been whetting my appetite for chicks in this town for a long time. This is where I am right now. Unfortunately I aint fuckin nobody now. Yet I have a gal in bed. Too bad.
Fuck the heat! It is screwing me instead.
Gosh! Some Imam or whatever is shouting himself hoarse in some mosque! Who is gonna tell him I am not understanding whatever he is saying. Oh No! they are now two, three, four… Jesus! Even birds are singing some creepy monotonous tune...Kwiraaaak! Kwiraaaak! They is gonna drive me nuts
It was such a fun drive. I had a hundred bob in my back pocket. One hundred only. But those guys are nice. Since I became a golden member of BAC (Broke Ass Club) due to joblessness, I can count up to three or four friends. And that is on the higher side. They drove and fed me on the way. What more could I have asked for?
We lunched together in town. What an old, dreary little hell of a very hot town! I had a strange meal. Simply because I could not understand the menu. Everything is in Swahili: Biriani, Pilau… I ordered the strangest item on the menu; just for the fuck of it…Biriani was my choice, only to turn out to be some colored rice…why don’t they call it colored rice for Chrissake? God! And they serve it with a ripe banana.
People here have got no manners; they eat with their hands and lick their fingers. Would have vomited if I had money to buy another meal. Ate it, didn’t enjoy.
The heat men! My shirt was out. Noticed I have developed some stupid tummy.
Had called my host. Tolme he was still working till five. I was wishing for a cold shower. Impossible. Prayed for a cold beer. It was answered. We drove to a pub called Fontanella. What a break from Swahili sounding everything! I swallowed three cold beers. It was such a hot place again. Was just wishing that I could get drunk to escape the heat. Got drunk after a few beers but it was no much help.
Were joined by a gal I knew. Some uneducated broad but lucky to be having some stupid job while I don’t. She has the biggest ass in East and Central Africa. Had asked her out once in Nairobi and she refused. She thinks she has some class. Class? My stupid ass! She doesn’t have the minimum of brains to even engage me about the weather. Chose to ignore her. It worked good.
There is this little gal I met in Facebook. She is in form four and lives here in Mombasa. She partly the reason I came. Nothing motivates me like a sexcapade. Had called her and she tolme she lives in some estate I can’t remember because obviously it is Swahili. I hate this language. She said it is ok I could go to their home. When I was sloshed enough, my host arrived. My friends dropped us in the gals place. I aint seen the gal before but she was not much of a disappointment like all blind dates nowadays. Whatever she lacked was compensated by her age. A fresh gal. In High School. Seventeen, sixteen or thereabout. Not bad. This is not child labour, pedophilia or the like.
She was excited to see the car I was driven in. In Kenya, a car works magic with gals. It loosen their panties and make their pussies wet. Your job is to fuck them. Believe me.
There was nobody in their place except her elder brother. He is cabbage. Mombasa is one rotten drug den. Didn’t know that drugs could turn somebody into a corpse. That guy could not even talk. He just leered at us sheepishly with his blood-shot eyes. That boy was just so stoned men. Aint seen anything like him.
Wonder when the last census of mosquitoes was done here! They are a billion plus one. Shit!
The gal picked up her bag and we took a cab to my host’s place. Don’t know what this place is called. Only thing I know is that it’s hot. Am naked, and sweating and dejected. This gal is sound asleep. Just fucked her once. She has a tight pussie. She is been fucked like once before. Some few inches short of a virgin. Me is fucked a million gals, what an imbalance. She is so naked and sweating, am monitoring a bead of sweat, gleaming and slowly flowing from her chest, and is trapped for a while in her nipples. God! Wish I could fuck this gal but the heat won’t let me. Lemme just lick her sweat away from her nipples. Salty!
You can’t hold a woman in bed. It is that bad.
As far as my interests could go, I used to think that Global Warming will just make pussies warmer and sweet. I know it differently now. Hoping the guys in Copenhagen would do something, otherwise sex as a sport is doomed. Wish I had gone to present my grievances. When sex is in jeopardy, everybody listens. Am sure nobody has argued from this perspective. Obama should hear my story and act; otherwise he won’t be able to frolic with Michelle in the next few years.
With dawn, maybe the heat will subside. Then I will be able to hit another round with this chick.
You don’t damn sleep in this town. In fact you don’t gonna do nothing! Sex, sleep, talk etc aint possible. I have never cared a damn about Global Warming, Climate Change, Greenhouse Gases, CO2 emissions or whatever the rage the world is been screaming about since the beginning of this year. Bored stiff this one week. Every other news is Copenhagen UN Climate Change Conference and blah blah. Some dour crap I may say. Had never fathomed what fifteen thousand oddballs are doing in a Danish city apart from adding one sex destination to their have-been-overdone-that fucking list. Not until today. Am gonna do a letter to the UN. I wonna be its global ambassador for sex. My job is to highlight to the world the effects of Climate Change on their favorite sport. At least I have experienced it first hand.
I don’t remember abandoning a brand new pussie in bed at 3 am, first day, in a new town and of all things, type some story. This is fuckin strange. Very.
Guys, am in Mombasa town or whatever they call it in Swahili. Every thing here is in Swahili. It sucks. Guess they call it ‘Mombasaini’ just like Mikindani, Miritini, Kibarani; everything ends with ‘ni’. Even adverts are done in the same boring language. Every other soul talks in funnily accented Swahili. Even sluts.
Everybody is sweating. The heat is sweltering. The gals are beautiful. Perfect color, boobs and ass combination. But the heat don’t wonna letchu enjoy even the sight alone. Only problem is that they are talking this stupid language. I don’t gonna stand it. Yuck!
I came here yesterday. Never been here before. Never will come back. Unless when I have lotsa cash.
You see, I was drinking with my friends in Nairobi the previous night and they told me they are leaving for holiday in Mombasa with their car. I jumped on the adventure. There is been a lot of rave about this island. Am never one with travelling but with a free ride then it is worth giving it a try. I was assured of free sex, beer, food and accommodation. In that order of priority. One of my close friends is living here. He is been whetting my appetite for chicks in this town for a long time. This is where I am right now. Unfortunately I aint fuckin nobody now. Yet I have a gal in bed. Too bad.
Fuck the heat! It is screwing me instead.
Gosh! Some Imam or whatever is shouting himself hoarse in some mosque! Who is gonna tell him I am not understanding whatever he is saying. Oh No! they are now two, three, four… Jesus! Even birds are singing some creepy monotonous tune...Kwiraaaak! Kwiraaaak! They is gonna drive me nuts
It was such a fun drive. I had a hundred bob in my back pocket. One hundred only. But those guys are nice. Since I became a golden member of BAC (Broke Ass Club) due to joblessness, I can count up to three or four friends. And that is on the higher side. They drove and fed me on the way. What more could I have asked for?
We lunched together in town. What an old, dreary little hell of a very hot town! I had a strange meal. Simply because I could not understand the menu. Everything is in Swahili: Biriani, Pilau… I ordered the strangest item on the menu; just for the fuck of it…Biriani was my choice, only to turn out to be some colored rice…why don’t they call it colored rice for Chrissake? God! And they serve it with a ripe banana.
People here have got no manners; they eat with their hands and lick their fingers. Would have vomited if I had money to buy another meal. Ate it, didn’t enjoy.
The heat men! My shirt was out. Noticed I have developed some stupid tummy.
Had called my host. Tolme he was still working till five. I was wishing for a cold shower. Impossible. Prayed for a cold beer. It was answered. We drove to a pub called Fontanella. What a break from Swahili sounding everything! I swallowed three cold beers. It was such a hot place again. Was just wishing that I could get drunk to escape the heat. Got drunk after a few beers but it was no much help.
Were joined by a gal I knew. Some uneducated broad but lucky to be having some stupid job while I don’t. She has the biggest ass in East and Central Africa. Had asked her out once in Nairobi and she refused. She thinks she has some class. Class? My stupid ass! She doesn’t have the minimum of brains to even engage me about the weather. Chose to ignore her. It worked good.
There is this little gal I met in Facebook. She is in form four and lives here in Mombasa. She partly the reason I came. Nothing motivates me like a sexcapade. Had called her and she tolme she lives in some estate I can’t remember because obviously it is Swahili. I hate this language. She said it is ok I could go to their home. When I was sloshed enough, my host arrived. My friends dropped us in the gals place. I aint seen the gal before but she was not much of a disappointment like all blind dates nowadays. Whatever she lacked was compensated by her age. A fresh gal. In High School. Seventeen, sixteen or thereabout. Not bad. This is not child labour, pedophilia or the like.
She was excited to see the car I was driven in. In Kenya, a car works magic with gals. It loosen their panties and make their pussies wet. Your job is to fuck them. Believe me.
There was nobody in their place except her elder brother. He is cabbage. Mombasa is one rotten drug den. Didn’t know that drugs could turn somebody into a corpse. That guy could not even talk. He just leered at us sheepishly with his blood-shot eyes. That boy was just so stoned men. Aint seen anything like him.
Wonder when the last census of mosquitoes was done here! They are a billion plus one. Shit!
The gal picked up her bag and we took a cab to my host’s place. Don’t know what this place is called. Only thing I know is that it’s hot. Am naked, and sweating and dejected. This gal is sound asleep. Just fucked her once. She has a tight pussie. She is been fucked like once before. Some few inches short of a virgin. Me is fucked a million gals, what an imbalance. She is so naked and sweating, am monitoring a bead of sweat, gleaming and slowly flowing from her chest, and is trapped for a while in her nipples. God! Wish I could fuck this gal but the heat won’t let me. Lemme just lick her sweat away from her nipples. Salty!
You can’t hold a woman in bed. It is that bad.
As far as my interests could go, I used to think that Global Warming will just make pussies warmer and sweet. I know it differently now. Hoping the guys in Copenhagen would do something, otherwise sex as a sport is doomed. Wish I had gone to present my grievances. When sex is in jeopardy, everybody listens. Am sure nobody has argued from this perspective. Obama should hear my story and act; otherwise he won’t be able to frolic with Michelle in the next few years.
With dawn, maybe the heat will subside. Then I will be able to hit another round with this chick.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Fermented Jism
Ever since joining the broke ass club (BAC), I have since made a resolution never to date any gal, for reasons that I had earlier expounded. I have resorted to one – nite –stand tactics of procuring pussie. As long as you are well dressed and have a roof to your head, it is easy to convince the greedy bitches that you are worth some salt. Before they can know, you are fucked up, gone and the niter is history. You see, what exposes you is money; lunch, coffee, dinner, outing, birthday, picnic and endless other demands from the fairy sex. The golden rule is, don’t pick the night-after call. They might think you are unfair but I wish they could know what agony you are trying to save yourself and them.
There is only one gal that has managed to defy this. Her name is C. C for chocolate, chic, cheese, chum, cheap and whatever name you can conjure up with the word C. Lemme spare her the ignominy of appearing in a blog of this nature. Not that I respect or love her. Far from that. If there is one gal I don’t give a hoot about is this one. If I had a semblance of a heart, maybe but hey, I have seen them all. No bitch excites me anymore.
I met this gal in the parking lot waiting for her sister where I used to work. Two years ago. She was in full school uniform, seated inside a car. Guess she was bored waiting. I chatted her up. Gave her my phone number. She was in her last year. It was January 2007. Forgotten all about her. Then she called me in Dec 2007. She was done with her Form four exams. She came to the city. She visited me. We fucked each other. She was a virgin. She has a shallow pussie. To date. Short, with a badly shaped ass. WARNING! Never seduce a seated gal if you are an ass fan. She might disappoint when she stands. This is exactly what happened. Quality boobs though. Overall, she is not my type but has her use. You see when you are starving, any pussie is pussie, is pussie.
When I used to have a permanent girlfriend, she used to play back-up and variety pussie. When you are tired of the same color-smell cunt you gotta switch to a brand new vagina. This was her practical use. Alongside another Sudanese gal who disappeared one early Xmas of 2008. I miss her somehow. But it is ok. Will get her replacement someday.
Was talking about C. Sorry for digressing a bit. Now, this C has stuck with me since then. She is now playing the official girl friend. That is according to her. According to me; NO. You see, she doesn’t ask for any money, attention or anything, what she wants is sex, sex, sex, sex. Whenever I agree to it anyway. Nothing bores me to hell like the same diet of pussie every week. Wherever her faith on me stems from, I cannot comprehend fully. A broke, lazy never serious fuck maniac dude like me for a ‘boyfriend’? Jesus Holy Nonexistent Christ! This C must be a good gal or stupid or crazed or anything that I cannot grasp. My friends say she is a good gal. But so what, I have no use for holy bitches. I have even told her that I fuck around but she is least concerned.
What shocks me again with this gal is that she insists on unprotected sex. What I call clean sex. It doesn’t worry me. I met her when she was a virgin anyway. It should worry her but she is not bothered. She must be dense.
It happens that I call her up once a week. The only time that I call her that is. To clean up my place, clothes, and service my dick. I am a lazy useless bloke. Cant wash, mop, cook or anything. That is just me. I don’t do any menial jobs. NEVER. Even for money. Save only S.E.X. Period. This bit, I don’t disappoint. Even when I am sick. Try me someday.
She always invites herself in case I don’t appear enthusiastic about it. That she did yesterday. She even shocked me that she would want a baby with me. I hope the bitch would not go ahead and get herself pregnant. I can’t stand another baby to my name. I have had enough scandals along that line. Wonna try other sleazy stuff.
She spent the nite here. We had a lot of sex. I don’t want to talk much about our ‘love making’. As earlier said, she has a shallow insipid cunt. But one thing made me fuck her more than usual. I don’t normally fuck gals too much unless they are exceptionally tasty or somebody is paying me for it. Which I am yet to get. With this recession and joblessness, I would not mind a little pocket money. Don’t scream morality to me. I am not a candidate for heaven. It must be a fuckin boring helluva place. Creeping with idiots.
Screwed her some seven sweet good rounds. The inspiration came through the sense of smell. You see, when she arrived, I screwed her without a condom and she went cleaning up my slow rotting den. When she was done, she came back to bed. When she opened her legs, a sweet fermented smell hit my nose. My dick whipped up as if under the influence of a magnet. What a smell! These rubber condoms have spoilt the game of sex. Methinks fucking should be all systems go, smell and etc. But with condoms, you always smell some yuck rubbers. I had never known that sperms deposited in cunt, left to ferment produces an aphrodisiac smell. Oh how I have missed the fun of fucking without a condom!
From today, I have resolved to
1. Screw this gal without a condom forever.
2. Increase her fucking ration to twice a week
So help me GOD!
Ever since joining the broke ass club (BAC), I have since made a resolution never to date any gal, for reasons that I had earlier expounded. I have resorted to one – nite –stand tactics of procuring pussie. As long as you are well dressed and have a roof to your head, it is easy to convince the greedy bitches that you are worth some salt. Before they can know, you are fucked up, gone and the niter is history. You see, what exposes you is money; lunch, coffee, dinner, outing, birthday, picnic and endless other demands from the fairy sex. The golden rule is, don’t pick the night-after call. They might think you are unfair but I wish they could know what agony you are trying to save yourself and them.
There is only one gal that has managed to defy this. Her name is C. C for chocolate, chic, cheese, chum, cheap and whatever name you can conjure up with the word C. Lemme spare her the ignominy of appearing in a blog of this nature. Not that I respect or love her. Far from that. If there is one gal I don’t give a hoot about is this one. If I had a semblance of a heart, maybe but hey, I have seen them all. No bitch excites me anymore.
I met this gal in the parking lot waiting for her sister where I used to work. Two years ago. She was in full school uniform, seated inside a car. Guess she was bored waiting. I chatted her up. Gave her my phone number. She was in her last year. It was January 2007. Forgotten all about her. Then she called me in Dec 2007. She was done with her Form four exams. She came to the city. She visited me. We fucked each other. She was a virgin. She has a shallow pussie. To date. Short, with a badly shaped ass. WARNING! Never seduce a seated gal if you are an ass fan. She might disappoint when she stands. This is exactly what happened. Quality boobs though. Overall, she is not my type but has her use. You see when you are starving, any pussie is pussie, is pussie.
When I used to have a permanent girlfriend, she used to play back-up and variety pussie. When you are tired of the same color-smell cunt you gotta switch to a brand new vagina. This was her practical use. Alongside another Sudanese gal who disappeared one early Xmas of 2008. I miss her somehow. But it is ok. Will get her replacement someday.
Was talking about C. Sorry for digressing a bit. Now, this C has stuck with me since then. She is now playing the official girl friend. That is according to her. According to me; NO. You see, she doesn’t ask for any money, attention or anything, what she wants is sex, sex, sex, sex. Whenever I agree to it anyway. Nothing bores me to hell like the same diet of pussie every week. Wherever her faith on me stems from, I cannot comprehend fully. A broke, lazy never serious fuck maniac dude like me for a ‘boyfriend’? Jesus Holy Nonexistent Christ! This C must be a good gal or stupid or crazed or anything that I cannot grasp. My friends say she is a good gal. But so what, I have no use for holy bitches. I have even told her that I fuck around but she is least concerned.
What shocks me again with this gal is that she insists on unprotected sex. What I call clean sex. It doesn’t worry me. I met her when she was a virgin anyway. It should worry her but she is not bothered. She must be dense.
It happens that I call her up once a week. The only time that I call her that is. To clean up my place, clothes, and service my dick. I am a lazy useless bloke. Cant wash, mop, cook or anything. That is just me. I don’t do any menial jobs. NEVER. Even for money. Save only S.E.X. Period. This bit, I don’t disappoint. Even when I am sick. Try me someday.
She always invites herself in case I don’t appear enthusiastic about it. That she did yesterday. She even shocked me that she would want a baby with me. I hope the bitch would not go ahead and get herself pregnant. I can’t stand another baby to my name. I have had enough scandals along that line. Wonna try other sleazy stuff.
She spent the nite here. We had a lot of sex. I don’t want to talk much about our ‘love making’. As earlier said, she has a shallow insipid cunt. But one thing made me fuck her more than usual. I don’t normally fuck gals too much unless they are exceptionally tasty or somebody is paying me for it. Which I am yet to get. With this recession and joblessness, I would not mind a little pocket money. Don’t scream morality to me. I am not a candidate for heaven. It must be a fuckin boring helluva place. Creeping with idiots.
Screwed her some seven sweet good rounds. The inspiration came through the sense of smell. You see, when she arrived, I screwed her without a condom and she went cleaning up my slow rotting den. When she was done, she came back to bed. When she opened her legs, a sweet fermented smell hit my nose. My dick whipped up as if under the influence of a magnet. What a smell! These rubber condoms have spoilt the game of sex. Methinks fucking should be all systems go, smell and etc. But with condoms, you always smell some yuck rubbers. I had never known that sperms deposited in cunt, left to ferment produces an aphrodisiac smell. Oh how I have missed the fun of fucking without a condom!
From today, I have resolved to
1. Screw this gal without a condom forever.
2. Increase her fucking ration to twice a week
So help me GOD!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Used condom in an elevator
The weather yesterday was wet and cold. I decided to kill time in our usual cyber café in town that we have christened the ‘jobless corner.’ It was hot and crowded as usual. Done, I went to the elevator. Joined a lone lady. We stepped in and we were the only ones in the elevator. I noticed a used condom on the floor lying next to an open packet. Complete with its juice. It kept me thinking. At 4 pm, only four floors, how did they do it? Did they meet in the elevator and decided to cavort or they made the decision elsewhere and decided to execute it there. Could four floors suffice to have an orgasm? How can one romp in a moving elevator?
I used to brag that I was a fast dater, that guy beat my record ten folds. I drew the attention of the lady to the spent arsenal. She told me, the weather might have set off the craving, but it was good they had safe sex! What a reply!
Clandestine sex is sweeter. Could not figure out how it is in an elevator. Maybe I should ask Tiger Woods where he did his.
I could not go home immediately because I dread traffic. With rains, traffic can extend for eternity. A friend called me for a drink at Frelas, I wasted not a minute. I was hungry but food and drink never compete in my world. Drinking always win. I ordered for a cold beer.
Used to lunch there when I used to be flush. I became broke and gave the restaurant a wide berth. I think it is a year since I was there. The place is not changed much. The same drab establishment. Waiters were excited to see me. I used to dole out generous tips when I had them. Amidst wide grins, they asked where I had been, I bluffed that I had been in the US. It was not a hard sell. I was dressed the part. Sat drinking with my buddies.
My pals were drunk and decided to leave. Had to leave with them. Could not afford to drink anymore. As I made to leave, I met a gal who was clocking out. Could not place whether she was a waiter, a chef or a cashier. But she was familiar. We struck a conversation as we descended the stairs. She asked where I have been. Said she knew me. I repeated my lie. I wanted to make myself expensive. Mention that you are in the US and every gal strips her panty. They see you in dollars. The gal was definitely excited.
One thing I have learned with dating when broke: appeal to greed. Talk big money as long as you are dressed okay. All women are gold diggers. The style is what varies. I chatted up the gal. She was neither cute, pretty nor attractive. But when I am drunk, I take a one night stand on pussie value not face value.
My friend had called me earlier for a drink in the hood. On this strength I convinced the girl we go for a drink. You see, I had no money. She was reluctant but I half pushed, half dragged her to the terminus. I knew I had made a catch the moment the taxi left the stage.
I called my mate and he told me he was in Visa Place. We dropped there and we were bought for drinks. I got drunk. Took the gal to my digs. I screwed her. True to expectations, she was not sweet. She told me she is a chef. I guessed the onions she cut at the restaurant have, over time, entered her pussie. Her hands were reeking of onions. I fucked her anyway.
She is still asleep. Have noticed she is got some facial hairs. It scared me. I almost brought home a transsexual. It gave me the creeps. Now she wants to leave. Told her to take the turning on the left. That way leads to the road. I don’t wonna be seen with this ugly thing.
What alcohol will get me into is hard to fathom.
The weather yesterday was wet and cold. I decided to kill time in our usual cyber café in town that we have christened the ‘jobless corner.’ It was hot and crowded as usual. Done, I went to the elevator. Joined a lone lady. We stepped in and we were the only ones in the elevator. I noticed a used condom on the floor lying next to an open packet. Complete with its juice. It kept me thinking. At 4 pm, only four floors, how did they do it? Did they meet in the elevator and decided to cavort or they made the decision elsewhere and decided to execute it there. Could four floors suffice to have an orgasm? How can one romp in a moving elevator?
I used to brag that I was a fast dater, that guy beat my record ten folds. I drew the attention of the lady to the spent arsenal. She told me, the weather might have set off the craving, but it was good they had safe sex! What a reply!
Clandestine sex is sweeter. Could not figure out how it is in an elevator. Maybe I should ask Tiger Woods where he did his.
I could not go home immediately because I dread traffic. With rains, traffic can extend for eternity. A friend called me for a drink at Frelas, I wasted not a minute. I was hungry but food and drink never compete in my world. Drinking always win. I ordered for a cold beer.
Used to lunch there when I used to be flush. I became broke and gave the restaurant a wide berth. I think it is a year since I was there. The place is not changed much. The same drab establishment. Waiters were excited to see me. I used to dole out generous tips when I had them. Amidst wide grins, they asked where I had been, I bluffed that I had been in the US. It was not a hard sell. I was dressed the part. Sat drinking with my buddies.
My pals were drunk and decided to leave. Had to leave with them. Could not afford to drink anymore. As I made to leave, I met a gal who was clocking out. Could not place whether she was a waiter, a chef or a cashier. But she was familiar. We struck a conversation as we descended the stairs. She asked where I have been. Said she knew me. I repeated my lie. I wanted to make myself expensive. Mention that you are in the US and every gal strips her panty. They see you in dollars. The gal was definitely excited.
One thing I have learned with dating when broke: appeal to greed. Talk big money as long as you are dressed okay. All women are gold diggers. The style is what varies. I chatted up the gal. She was neither cute, pretty nor attractive. But when I am drunk, I take a one night stand on pussie value not face value.
My friend had called me earlier for a drink in the hood. On this strength I convinced the girl we go for a drink. You see, I had no money. She was reluctant but I half pushed, half dragged her to the terminus. I knew I had made a catch the moment the taxi left the stage.
I called my mate and he told me he was in Visa Place. We dropped there and we were bought for drinks. I got drunk. Took the gal to my digs. I screwed her. True to expectations, she was not sweet. She told me she is a chef. I guessed the onions she cut at the restaurant have, over time, entered her pussie. Her hands were reeking of onions. I fucked her anyway.
She is still asleep. Have noticed she is got some facial hairs. It scared me. I almost brought home a transsexual. It gave me the creeps. Now she wants to leave. Told her to take the turning on the left. That way leads to the road. I don’t wonna be seen with this ugly thing.
What alcohol will get me into is hard to fathom.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Who is got Marilyn Monroe’s pussie Black box?
I can’t wait to watch the film that resurfaced of Marilyn. This sex goddess of the last century has never ceased to amaze me. Imagine a gal without much formal education, no family to write home about and a troubled personality rising to search fame and Hollywood success in such a short lifespan.
I have read a dozen books about her (sex) life and mysterious death, but none has ever mentioned that she smoked pot. I am not surprised since she had a million demons to exorcise in her mind. Pot is such a wonderful drug! Better than all the sleeping pills she pumped into her system combined. No wonder she was relaxed. A rare feat for Marilyn, her fears and anxieties always lurking behind the sexy smile.
What fascinates me about Marilyn is not her screen life; I haven’t seen a single movie that she acted. Neither do I watch movies. It is the ease in which she could attract the crème de la crème of Washington, Hollywood, Wall Street, Sport, Academia and anybody who was somebody in the world then, to her thighs. Even the mafia crossed her radar at one time.
Her sex acquaintances read like who was who in the world of that time: John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Arthur Mill, Frank Sinatra? Maybe. She was loved, but she never loved herself. Her insecurities were catastrophic. But, has any other woman managed to conquer Washington and Hollywood? Have a direct number to the President of the US of A. Even Sza Sza Gabor did not come close. Marilyn was the quintessential fame fatale!
So much conspiracy theories have been fronted to explain her mysterious death: murder, suicide, drug overdose. I don’t much care whether Frank Sinatra orchestrated her death in conjunction with the CIA or the Mafia to protect his brother-in-law’s reputation. Suicide is way off the mark. Marilyn committing suicide because the President refused to pick her call? Don’t think so. Drug overdose is close. Am just interested in her celebrity dick overdose. It seems we may not know any new facts. Imagine if she had a black box tucked somewhere in her pussie, the labs would have churned out a better movie than she ever acted!
I can’t wait to watch the film that resurfaced of Marilyn. This sex goddess of the last century has never ceased to amaze me. Imagine a gal without much formal education, no family to write home about and a troubled personality rising to search fame and Hollywood success in such a short lifespan.
I have read a dozen books about her (sex) life and mysterious death, but none has ever mentioned that she smoked pot. I am not surprised since she had a million demons to exorcise in her mind. Pot is such a wonderful drug! Better than all the sleeping pills she pumped into her system combined. No wonder she was relaxed. A rare feat for Marilyn, her fears and anxieties always lurking behind the sexy smile.
What fascinates me about Marilyn is not her screen life; I haven’t seen a single movie that she acted. Neither do I watch movies. It is the ease in which she could attract the crème de la crème of Washington, Hollywood, Wall Street, Sport, Academia and anybody who was somebody in the world then, to her thighs. Even the mafia crossed her radar at one time.
Her sex acquaintances read like who was who in the world of that time: John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Arthur Mill, Frank Sinatra? Maybe. She was loved, but she never loved herself. Her insecurities were catastrophic. But, has any other woman managed to conquer Washington and Hollywood? Have a direct number to the President of the US of A. Even Sza Sza Gabor did not come close. Marilyn was the quintessential fame fatale!
So much conspiracy theories have been fronted to explain her mysterious death: murder, suicide, drug overdose. I don’t much care whether Frank Sinatra orchestrated her death in conjunction with the CIA or the Mafia to protect his brother-in-law’s reputation. Suicide is way off the mark. Marilyn committing suicide because the President refused to pick her call? Don’t think so. Drug overdose is close. Am just interested in her celebrity dick overdose. It seems we may not know any new facts. Imagine if she had a black box tucked somewhere in her pussie, the labs would have churned out a better movie than she ever acted!
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