Hyena’s classic tales #9: Survival for the fittest

My new house is bringing babes down on their knees. I had told you about this Mugishu girl called Mama Maria my neighbour’s sister. Well, she rang me some days ago accusing me of crimes against her love for me.

She insisted that I had used her then dumped her after widening her pot. She assured me that whenever she has ‘supper’ with her boyfriend; she feels nothing and can only become high after thinking about me.

She also told me that I should tell her where she went wrong so that we can be friends again. This babe called me five times a day as if it were an obligation. I hadn’t even thought about her, but hearing her sexy voice over phone hardened my rod.

One good Saturday evening she called me and asked me to go to her home. Maria emerged from the kitchen clad in a dreadful Arsenal T-shirt and a mini jeans skirt. I handed Maria her gifts then she took me through the kitchen to the children’s wing. While there, I had to answer a million questions about why I was bland towards her.

I had a perfect answer to every question until she asked me why I had failed to send her a success card during her senior six final examinations. I hated Maria because she has the attitude of shearing me. Out of the blue, my rod grew stone hard.

She served me a glass of orange juice then turned in to Sanyu Fm. A minute later, she began massaging me. “What if your mum finds us?” I asked. “She won’t, don’t worry she never comes in here,” she assured me. “Maybe you don’t like me anymore,” she added. “Would I be here if I didn’t like you?” I defended myself. “Naye amaziima Hyena weyisa bubi guy gwe notaaja nakundabako kale nange ndi kikukola,” (okay Hyena you do not treat me right, you did not even come to visit me on visiting day okay, I will also do you the same).

“I am sorry Maria, I will make it up to you,” I assured her. By then, we were all over each other, her hand dip in my unzipped trouser as mine was deep inside her skirt. I mean past the mothers union. She pulled off my belt and un buttoned my shirt. “Maria wont your sister find us?” I asked. “No, nobody will,” she said while pulling off her mother’s union.

She then walked to the radio and bent down, my goodness; her rear and knee joints were all filled with mugaba (stretch marks). She played Britney Spears compact disc and walked back to me.

“Maria what happened to you?” I asked. “Those things on your butt and knee joints,” I said pretending not to know mugaba (stretch marks). Do you know what she answered?

“Eh many women would go through fire to get stretch marks.” “So what is it?” I insisted as I felt it. “It’s called mugaba (stretch marks) this is what makes me so sweet,” she said with a wide smile.

“So you are sweet?” I asked. “You mean I am not?” she asked as she speared my face with her round eyes.

“Of course you’re the sweetest,” I said as I grabbed her head to eat her lips.

She pulled my trousers to my knees then sat on my member. “Shouldn’t we use condoms,” I asked. “Waliyo kondomu etuka luno olusolo lwo?”(Is there any condom that can fit on this ru-thing of yours?) She said while pushing it deep inside her pot.

My balls went damn wet, vast juices were flowing out of her pot. “Ndya kumabere,” (eat my boobs) she begged as she pulled off her dreadful arsenal t-shirt. She squeezed herself so hard on my whopper, “I love you so much Hyena,” she calmingly said. “I missed you Maria,” I said. “Me too,” she answered.

My arms were wrapped around her back at about the 23rd time, I felt my sperms coming so I grabbed her shoulders and faintly yelled “yes Maria,” while shafting her rather fast. She was breathing heavily, my heart beating at a rather abnormal pace. She got up, pulled a hankie from my pocket and cleaned my whopper gently that I imagined she had a PhD in whopper cleaning. “Please put on your trousers before mum finds us,” she panicked. “But I thought you said that…” Eh you wait and see,” she interrupted.

She rushed to the bathroom, and wore a Vodafone t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Are you an arsenal fun or man u?” I asked.

“Ah these are just clothes,” she answered. She looked so sexy no question m whopper grew restless and soon my hand was miles inside her jeans. My erect whopper pointed to the ceiling. She began licking my chest going down until I felt my whopper in her mouth. She was sucking it as she was chewing mostly the hard piece.

My toes prolonged as I was feeling what the Baganda call ‘enyonyogeze’ (tickles) all over my body even deep down in my soul. My whopper pointed to the ceiling. She pulled off her blouse and knickers. Squatted, and she put me between her legs. She held my whopper and began swallowing it. When half of it had entered her pot, I felt her twin towers caressing my groin. She has the type that kind of wraps around the whopper during penetration. After her body had heated up, she snaked on top of me, held my whopper around her twinnies and began masturbating me. She couldn’t let the whopper go into the tunnel but just left it on the twinnies. Though at times she would let it move a few inches into the tunnel then pulled it out violently.

She was in agony, making a thousand different sounds. We paused for over thirty minutes; she just kept rubbing the different sites of her pot walls with my whopper. It was purely out of itchiness. Finally she concentrated on the twinnies rubbing in a sensational way. Am sure if she has AIDS I got over 50% of it. Anyway it came to the moment when Mt. Masaka erupted between her legs and pouring a lot of warm mucous vulva-like magma.

That’s when she swallowed the things and waxed it so fast that it poured out the load in just two or three minutes. “Ndya ku mimwa!” (Chew me on the lips) she begged.

I did them justice. Then she subjected me to a shower. While at it, she said “leero kozinire wano abasiru,” (today you are bound to dance fools from here) “Maria am not like that anymore,” I said. “Ehh Hyena! Oba ononyaki mubusolo?”(Ehh Hyena I wonder what you search for from pots) she said.

It looked so funny we were both naked bathing together yet here she was accusing me of more crimes against women’s lives. After we had changed, we went to the market bought fish, Irish potatoes and rice. Then at home, we started what I hate most.

“Hyena peel those onions and tomatoes. Do this, do that,” I hate that so much, but because I wanted to taste ‘couple life’ I gave in and missed out on watching those gorgeous babes on fashion TV. Later that night after we had jazzed Doggie, showered for tenth time, she confessed to me “Hyena, I do not know what is with me over you. I have tried so much to let go but I can’t.” You can if you really like,” I said. “Yes I could but with you I can express myself on how I feel yet I can’t do it with my boyfriend. I have never even sucked him yet he licks me whenever I feel like, she said.”

“I rarely get sexual feelings with him but with you, just looking at you is enough to turn me on,” she added. “This thing is long and big. Do you know that it spoilt my pot?

She asked. “I will keep on spoiling it if you don’t stop calling me here,” I assured her. We had sex until Monday morning when we had to part. I bought her a new phone to help her gossip more about me, but am trying to keep her out of my programme as much as possible because she is coming wholesale.

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