Tag Archives: Sex Lessons

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?

How Mandela Taught me about women

When Nelson Mandéla told me he was more scared of mosquito bites than Akoth’s parents, I knew I’d sweat that night. It was 9 in the night, and I thought it was too early to fish the girl out without being hit by a bible.

Damn!

I was scared of that shit. It spelled death. Nobody we knew had endured the wrath of 66 books and lived. I was scared.

Rumors had it that the guy who had tried to fish Akoth’s elder sister had been struck by lightning just a few days after the Pastor hit him with the bible. It was a suicide attempt getting those girls.

I was scared but we had Mandela, the antidote to every huddle we had getting ’em girls. Mandela had curious genitals, so he began sexing ’em girls while still in lower primary. By class 7 he was sexing the teachers. A bad bad guy that one.

With Mandela on your side, you were sure to get laid. You had to be ready. If you could meet Mandela, then you’d know how sincere men are when they tell you they tripped and fell in a vagina. Mandela had the charm that swept girls off their feet, swirling them in the air and gently resting them on your genitals.

It was magic.

You never saw it coming. So we’re on our way to get this girl when out of nowhere somebody passing by on a motorbike calls him.

The guy is giving him details on how Belinda and her sister have come back the very evening. I didn’t even know Belinda, nor her sister, but I could hear the yearning in his voice when he interviewed the dude.

So when he said we head to Belinda’s place, I knew things were getting thicker. Maan, it’s only with Mandela’s connection that you can introduce yourself to a chic you’ve never known and 20 minutes later you’re banging pon the sofa. Nelson Mandéla, may God bless you.

And Yo, I’m the first person who evaded the bible and lived to tell the tale.

Lessons on BEDminton

You may not like what I am about to say but it is the truth. Housewives speak about ‘bedminton’ most of the time. The nature of my work has allowed me to spend most of my time with the housewives mimi ndiye mwanaume peke yake anayebaki kwa ploti so most of the time their conversations are right under my nose and I don’t need to eavesdrop to get to listen to their stories, they talk so loudly that I can even smell the scent of their stories and I tell you they are nasty, nastier than the Nasty Thomas of the kinyaunyau fame.

housewives telling stories

I was here busy trying to beat a strict deadline, I really had too much to do and yet these women were here having conversation on a very sensitive topic. This topic is not very good for a mhuni like me. I don’t like this topic for two reasons; one, it reminds how lazy I have been in searching for she who is using my missing rib. I don’t always love to have this thought because it leaves me so hollow yet so exhausted to keep up with the cat and rat chase. Secondly, this topic is a distractor, you may pretend to have not heard other conversations but with ‘bedminton’ you will find yourself listening even if you didn’t want to. It is rather funny hearing women declare their expertise in the sector thought to be majorly dominated by men.

Today they were all there, the three of them. Wameweka kikao right outside my door (they might have had some wicked intentions). The “bedminton” stories began with family planning issues. One of them, Mama Melani was on the opposition, she did not want anything to do with contraceptives and she wasn’t ashamed to say that watoto huwezi pangia kama bado unakula keki, kama hutaki watoto afadhali usikule keki ( you can’t plan for children when you are still eating cake, if you don’t want children then you better stop eating cake). She continued to dominate the conversation, haki sijawahi jaribu hizo vitu na hata Baba watoto hawezi kubali (honestly I have never tried those things and I know the father of my children cannot agree) they laugh and she continues hata saa hii sijui kama nina mimba (I don’t even know if I am pregnant now). That’s how ignorant some women are, I conclude and grab the little attention I have got left , the pursuit to beat the deadline resumes. Before I could finish a single paragraph , Someone knocks at the gate and immediately the gate is opened a new conversation is began straight away. Mama Eddy sells, bed sheets and she had brought some for her customers, I bet if that woman fails to make profits from her business then she will become a sex coach just like Getrude Mungai.

She has terminologies! She calls the act a Manchester united and Arsenal match. She not only has terminologies but she knows how to lace her lessons with humor. Here are some of the lessons she taught.

Bed is the foundation of marriage. Ukitaka kutengeneza ndoa unaanza kwa kitanda, she begins. When you are good at bed then your husband cannot have any problem with you and neither can he have a mpango wa kando (Mistress). Wash the bed sheets after every two days when there is no match between Arsenal and Manchester but when there is match wash and replace the bed sheets every day. She says this is necessary because of the lotions they use. Unajua harufu mbaya hutoa appetite ya game! .  She knows too much!

Sex coach

At this moment I faked a cough to let them know I was not asleep but they seemed too involved in their stories to mind my inconvenience. The lessons continue. Sometimes you also need to change things she says toka kwa kitanda mpeleke kwa kiti. At this point mama Miano interjects amidst laughter kwani watoto wako wapi? and her reply left me torn in laughter watoto usijali wewe tengeneza ndoa hata ukianguka kwa mguu ya mtoto endelea tu si wao watasema baba na mama walikuwa wanapigana…hahahahaha I coulnt stop laughing and I couldn’t continue learning the same lessons with the experts.  Need I say I lost my demanding client!