I think I should stop fucking kids. But how do I do it? Guys? Any ideas? I meet a kid in a club, I wanna say no, but for some reason I just don’t. Wrong.
I thought I was dreaming when I woke up to the face of the kid lying on my bare chest…mouth open…snoring away. I am stark naked. I put my hand over her lower back and move my hand over her butt. She too is butt naked. Aich.
She doesn’t even flinch when I squeeze her butt…she just makes a small gagging sound, swallows, closes her mouth and continues sleeping.
I can remember very well getting to the club, meeting the girl, getting drunk, getting to the car park outside, but can’t quite remember us getting into the room. I know we must have screwed, but for the love of mike! OMG! I can’t actually remember doing it. Kweli. Old age is setting in? Dementia?
I gently nudge her face aside onto the pillow and she turns over, hugs the pillow and continues snoozing away. After a few minutes, I sit up and find used condoms on the floor. I smile. At least I used some. Aich.
I head into the bathroom and empty a tankfull of urine into the bowl as I yawn incessantly.
I walk back and look down at the sleeping shapely young woman. She just completed high school and is in town staying with her married sister. I try to imagine how this girl was in a high school classroom just about this time the previous year. I figure her in her school uniform chewing on the end of her Bic ballpoint pen figuring out some quadratic equation (ama zilikuwa zinaitwa aje?)
OK. So she is lying there, one arm is flung over the pillow exposing a shoulder and also partially exposing the side of a cute young boob. I pull the blanket up a bit to cover the kanyonyo. I am feeling rather guilty. I am getting too old for this shit. Kweli. As in kweli. Not the overused movie line/cliché.
I ease my butt onto the bed, lean over and prop my face in my hands. I like the sensation of the warm carpet on my feet. I massage my temples kidogo. Headache kwa mbali. My shirt and trouser is on the floor next to the bedside cabinet.
I look over to the armchair and table across the room. Her clothes make an untidy heap on the armchair. There is a bottle of Amarula (the big one) on the table. She must have brought it in. Some of the wine is in an ugly water glass beside the bottle…those ugly water glasses they leave for guests in cheap hotel rooms. I walk over, pick the glass, slump into the armchair and take a sip. Whenever I take a sip of Amarula, it feels more like baby food, like something more for nutrition than for recreation. But today it doesn’t taste too bad actually. Today it tastes like alcohol.
I try to reconstruct the missing hours of my memory.
The most memorable point of our meeting was when I told her she was pretty and she said, “You too!” I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. Aich! Then we started drinking together and chatting. When I realised just how young she was, I half willingly started hatching out some strategies to dump her. She was so naive about everything. For starters, she thought that stuff like riding a cool motorbike was the definition of success in life. And that it is the job of ma-boys to buy their girlfriends credo, give them salon money, and they should take them shopping for shoes and clothes at least once a month. Hehehe…
She had rather expensive taste when it came to the drinks too. Glass of Wine, Wine, Wine, Wine, Shot of Tequila, Shot of Tequila, Glass of Wine, Wine, Wine…
Ati beer does not taste nice, Smirnoff ice gives a bad hangover, Snapp is for kids (like duh…hehehe…)etc
I want to sneak out but I keep checking out that perfect bubbly ass, tender smooth skin, nice pair of boobs, infectious laugh…dreamy eyes. I give in. When I resign myself, I feel a new freedom take over. I let myself go and I really enjoy the drinks for the rest of the night.
It must have been the drinks; why my memory sort of conked out later in the night.
As I sat on the armchair sipping from the ugly glass, I started wondering if I need to start reordering my life. The more I thought about her, the more I felt like dressing up and slipping away quietly.
I grab the towel and step into the shower room. Nice hot shower. I walk out of the shower room, and find her still laying the same way I had left her. ..
I pick my pair of trousers and shirt from the floor but can’t find my underpants. Fuck. Sasa ziko wapi? I start sparking as it starts to dawn on me that they are somewhere buried deep in the bed sheets…and the sleeping damsel is probably lying on them. Fuck them. I getting out of this without waking this kid. I am going out commando. Hehehe…
I put on the pair of trousers and tuck in the shirt, zip up, and buckle up. Lakini, how can I just leave my underpants in the room like that? May be the cleaning women might decide to check my number out and call me to ask me to come pick them later? Awkward. Besides I am feeling rather naked without them. Hehehe…
I carefully put my hand under the beddings and sweep down to the foot of the bed without touching her, then I run it along the foot of the bed. Nothing. Ama she stole it when I was out and stuffed it in her handbag. I eye her handbag suspiciously. It is sitting so smugly on the table as if it is daring me. What if she wakes up and finds me fumbling with her handbag?
Lakini, what would she be doing that for? Put my ngotha in her handbag??!!! I must be sick to have entertained such a thought!
Where is that fucking ngotha?
It must be under the bed! Nice thought. Peeking under the bed aaand…nope. No joy. Hakuna. So now, that fucking bitch is in the bed, no doubt about it. You know that thing they put on car keys and then when you whistle or clap it beeps? They should have invented one for ngothaz. A grown man turning over a lass twenty years younger than him looking for a ngotha? Aich.
Forget. Commando it is.
Then again, how will they dispose of it? Same thought line that got me looking again>>>“Daktari. Retrieve mali yako. Hapana kuacha suruali ya ndani kwa kitanda ya hoteli ovyo ovyo. Daktari?”
Enough is enough. I pull up the blanket and peek. She wakes up with a start and grabs the blanket back. Awkward.
“What time is it?”
“Morningz. Saa moja unusu. My ngotha is hiding under the blankets, I need it.”
“Kwani you are going?!” Sounds accusing.
“No, I was just…looking for it.”
She grabs my arm. “Please come back. Tulale tu kidogo. It is so early daaaamn…”
Am officially back in bed. We start caressing, kissing a bit. Mr Rungu wakes up instantly. O Drat! Fuck this!
A few minutes later, I reach for a CD. I try to go in and she complains that her pussy is sore.
“Sasa you took forever to cum last night?” [hio inakuanga sentense ya statement, swali ama nini?]
“Yeah. Duh? Like you even told me yourself you take forever to cum?”
I sweat sana. I head back to the shower room again, but this time I remember to retrieve the ngotha. She watches me dress up and asks me for a hug. We hug, as she tells me in the typical chick soppy fashion that she will miss me. I stuff Kshs 1000 into her handbag and leave her sleeping. I am not sure I can keep this up much longer. I am starting to feel a bit lost about these younger women. It does not feel the same any more. I think it is about time I revisited the metamorphosis post and post something there for this stage of a pussy hunter…coz I think it is about time for a new development.