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There are some babes who still think that their Kandahar’s are of such value that they will not let anybody disorganize them. Early this year as I was travelling to Juba to deliver cosmetics to Obetch, my South Sudanese client, I sat next to a Muzungu babe. From Kampala to Nimule, she did not say a word to me. Her body was so smelly and I anxiously wanted to know how it would smell after a vigorous sex marathon.
Since such foul smells turn me on, I kept my nose wide open trying to sniff whatever emanated from her body. She seemed not to care about whoever sat next to her though I tried as much as possible to make my presence noticed. When we got to the border (Nimule), some passengers told the driver to stop so that they could go for long calls.
Everybody utilized this chance and got out to at least stretch themselves. On getting out of the bus, street kids surrounded her each demanding for some money. This is when I got the chance to talk to her.
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I chased the street kids away then held her hand and whisked her off very fast. “Thanks very much, I was scared of those unruly and shabby boys. They would have snatched away my bag,” she said. “These boys are very smart and you should never come close to them” I advised her. “I would like to know you better,” I stammered. “I am Marie and I come from Paris France,” she said. “Ohhhh Marie what a lovely name! I am called Mr.Hyena, a Munyoro from Uganda,” I said. We joked about a few things and I asked her why she was travelling alone. She told me that she had just divorced her husband and wanted to be alone so that she could regain her old self. I knew this was the right woman to bonk without having to say much about myself. “I understand that you are feeling so lonely and deserted, you really need somebody to comfort you,” I suggested. To this, she did not say a word but just flashed a smile at me. People, I noticed that her teeth had not been brushed in a long time and one could see the different layers of food particles piled on them. “You should try the African men…they are good at handling women especially foreign women,” I said.
“They say African men are very aggressive though they are damn good at making love,” she said. I did not want to sound very much interested in bonking her so I changed the topic and we started discussing past French politics and the former ones among which included their horny former president. I was not very well versed with the French Revolution topic, so I left her to do most of the talking as I stared at her lips. They were so thin and there is a belief that women with thin lips are very sweet in bed. I then brought in jailed Sarkozy topic and she confessed that she is his andante fan. “The only thing that is that he used to stare at every skirt that bypassed him before his fall and incarceration,” she added.
As we talked, Marie was slowly drawing her head closer to me signifying that she wanted us to exchange saliva forgetting that this is Africa where we don’t kiss in public. “Please do not do that in the bus,” I told her. “Okay at least a peck,” she proposed. Without waiting for my reply, she planted a peck on my left check.
As we proceeded to Juba, Marie confessed that her Kandahar was itching and longing for a whopper. I jokingly asked her what she meant but she just gave me a playful slap. On reaching Juba town, Marie’s behavior completely changed. She placed her palm on my hand telling me how cute I was. “Ohhhh my dear…thank you,” I said. She then proposed that we should move into a hotel. “I will foot the bill,” she boldly assured me. People, I couldn’t turn down such an offer from a Beyoncé look alike.
We then proceeded to Equatorial Inn. No sooner had we entered the hotel room than Marie began kissing me passionately. Nevertheless, the stale food particles in her teeth spoilt what would rather have been a sexy kiss. All the same, it did not stop me from sliding my fingers into her already wet pot. When I pulled out my finger to lick the waters, I was shocked to see my fingers covered with porridge like stuff. I did not lick it but inserted it into her mouth and she began licking it clean and telling mehow her juices were very salty like ORS (Oral Rehydration Solution Salts).
After digesting her oils, she pulled out my whopper and started buffeting on it. “Ohhhh I love it. I love it so much,” I moaned. After getting maximum satisfaction of my whopper, Marie demanded for a romp. Supplementary, my whopper had grown hungry. I immediately condomised it and led it to its rightful destination. “Ohhhh Hyena…Ohhhh….you are sweet….Ohhhh,” Marie moaned to which I told her to cool down and relax. In the 13th minute, I felt magma move through my shafting system. I increased the jazzing speed. “You are killing me, slowly, slowly, right there! Right there! There! Ohhhh…. Haaaa,” she moaned as I finished.
After finishing, Marie pulled off the CD, reached for a towel and wiped off the magma. She then told me that she had a great offer. “Which one?” I anxiously asked. “I would like you to travel with me to France,” she said. People, I was ready to tell her that I was broke but she said that she would work on everything that required me to get me into Macron’s land. After thinking about it for two minutes, I told her that I would call her the following day. We then hugged each other and parted. I then proceeded to Obetch’s shop and delivered him the cosmetics. Time check was 9pm so I spent the night at Obetch’s house. The following day, I returned to Kampala but up to now, I have never called Marie nor sent her an sms. I even changed my number because I don’t like anyone to lure me from leaving this country of ours.
Till then, I remain yours truly, The Mighty Hyena.
