Category Archives: sex

Imaginations & a boner

Never joke with the power of imagination yo. I knew the mind works magic after I broke up with a Kamba girl. No, it has nothing to do with kamuti. I think karma was just fucking with me yo.


The Kamba lass was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl I’ve sexed with consistently, but I was young and stupid.


To date, that’s the lady that I have mistreated most, even as a kabu kabu. I’ve never been violent, but I was indifferent and blind to her emotions. I wasn’t available emotionally, neither was I physically outside the house. twas just sex. I dropped her the keys from the balcony, and never walked her out. She found me in my house and she left me there when we were done shagging. She’d hustle, make some money and call me with plans for outings, but I crushed them yo.


When we part ways, I took 8 months without flicking a bean yo. It was devastating. I’d make arrangements, talk to ’em girls wakubali, hadi wapande mat, but they never arrived😂.
Mara ooh, nilifika but simu ilizima, oh gari imenipitisha and it was late so I came back home.


That happened for eight full months–a long time since the Kamba girl had got me used to hitting the thing almost daily. So erections became my nightmare, and the boner would find me in the most inappropriate situations; kwa gari, kwa njia, in church, and even while on stage performing. Twas becoming a serious ailment that I had to find a cure for and that’s when the imagination tricks began.


Mostadem didn’t work, but one worked, and if you’re waiting for it I warn you it is nasty. But it worked. When cornered by boners and desires I couldn’t quell, I’d imagine worms crawling outta pussy😢. I have never seen anything like that, so the image was hard to hold still for long.

Luckily, I didn’t have to meditate pon it for hours like monks. It worked almost instantly. It deflated the erection within seconds. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done with my mind, but it survived me. It took an X I hadn’t spoken with for years to end that spell. These days, I just talk to it nicely; calm down please, calm down yo, and listens.


Still, this post must be shitty because I’m here shitting with my comp pon my lap. And my head isn’t stable cause I haven’t spliffed for 18 hours.
What’s the worst imagination trick you’ve done to calm a boner?

Sermon in bed: cursed is the man who eavesdrops on the SExscapades of another Man’s genitals

You men, who think it’s wise to make gossip a career should respect balls. If you can’t respect your own, don’t rubbish other men’s. There’s just so much to talk about that it baffles me why someone would find fulfillment in eavesdropping on people’s sexual lives.

When the dust settles, you ask yourself what Edgar has solved with that Jalas and the boys’ story. Just another clout chaser. It was bad, it was happening, but having exposed it, how has it helped the victims?

Now the women in those convos are in worse mental state, possibly could be depressed even, so the man who so many people think of as the hero of the mayhem has actually done more harm to them. Look, the photos, the videos, and the chats were in a private group, safe from the public eye until Edgar happened. Now the girls are everywhere, naked, and I hear mofos asking for videos, what makes you any better?

But you also forget that sex is also transactional. Abled buyer, willing seller. And terms of the transactions is only binding to the two parties.

Say what you wanna say, but Edgar, a man who finds pleasure in bringing down people is no fucking hero. Sex happens in all its illicit hues; married man fucked who in the parking lot, she’s fucking with the shamba boy, look at this intern riding her married boss, now Clinton is fucking with Lewinsky…it happens every time.

But riddle me this, would married men cheat if there were no women willing to be cheated with?

Yo, unless it’s rape, violence, pedophilia, or undue influence, let people live their lives, however sexually weird they might be.

Though I find what these boys did juvenile and wrong, It’s appalling that nobody cares about the women in those chats, or maybe, just another collateral damage. Now go back to your tired life. You’re dismissed, mongoose.

Sexual redemption

I feel the warmth of your pussy on my glans
how pleasure swathes my nerves
and swirls thereabouts,
a wave of emotions taking leave
short breathes
legs shaking
Oh, sexy, hold that waist down for me
I want to savor the glory of your mons,
swim in the waters of your orgasm,
baby baptise me anew,
the sinner that I am needs redemption

 

Of Poets and Whores

She’s a girl who’ll be known for her balls
Whoever she encounters she hardens or breaks
She shines with the moon
Arresting the glory of goddesses
My chest heaves at her expectations
Sure, to get laid is a given
But to satisfy a woman is an art
She isn’t your everyday whore
She’s a liberated woman
feigning arrest by hormones
Everything takes shape in her wake
She gobbles my man like a hungry tigress
Yeah she is hungry
She hunts and thrills at her kill
Tonight I’m her prey
She takes her time
A sinister smile spreads on her lips
“This way”
I obey
She rides at top speed then slows down
Then accelerates
Then I die
She’s gone like smoke that leaves no trail
Somebody find her
I swear I would trade my mansion in heaven for the thrill of her ride

Maybe She Wants

I watched her fidget on the seat
Her thighs exposed
And her lips moist with seduction
And her eyes craving for below-belt adventures
She’s a girl who’ll be remembered
For her breasts; younger than dawn
She raises her bust exposing that cleavage
She’s savage
Biting her lower lip eliciting
Sensuous pleasures
Maybe she wants, maybe she doesn’t

The night was young,
The breasts were firm
And her mons wet and inviting
She shakes her thighs
Opening and closing
Ying yang
Ying yang
Maybe she wants, maybe she doesn’t

But I can’t wait anymore
Things are stiffening down here
The stiffest part of me is nodding in salute
So I’ve gotta indulge in this
Illicit pleasures
No guilt
I just wanna get some satisfaction
And calm my hormones
But,
Maybe be she wants, maybe she doesn’t

I pull her to my bed and she obeys
Clothes peeling
And hearts thumping
Up in here, shoot that deeper
Skin ravaging skin
And lip feasting on lip
The grip tightens
As dick bulges
And she scratches and uproots my locks
Suddenly she’s lost
In sexual euphoria
She trembles and takes breaths in fits
Silence…
Still, up in here, shoot that deeper
Moments later
“Thank you”, she said
So glad
That my erection lived long enough
To write the eulogy of her orgasm
On her lips…

Finally….

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I swear she overdosed me with patience
The waiting was long and torturing
With hormones rising
Beyond control
Dominating my thoughts
My actions
And leaving me swathed
In lustful rage
The nights were long
Bedsheets were thick
With sexual annotations
Days were lonely and fruitless
No poems,
No gigs
Just wishes and yearnings
For a passionate ‘sexcapade’

Finally, she showed up
In short skirts and broad smiles
Her breath a blend of innocence
And eagerness to indulge
As she moved closer,
I stood my ground
Her hands reached out for my face
As kisses and whispers became deafening

The pants ripped off
Skin to skin musings
As mouth sought mouth
Wetness ensued
And thighs parted
Revealing cleanly shaven soft-centre
She gasped in pleasure
As she took it in inches
Flinching time to time
Groaning
Scratching
As feet knotted on feet
Her splash came up
Messing my pubic hair
And she pulled my hair
Scratched my back
Till it bled
I felt something build up
Something huge, voluminous
I heard myself moan
And Alas!
Her face half contorted as mine,
She received the lava in convulsive fits
As I wiped the lava off her mons
I knew Nirvana dwells in orgasms