An autobiography is not about pictures; it's about the stories; it's about honesty and as much truth as you can tell without coming too close to other people's privacy.
-
Boris Becker

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I am a wanted man... Running away from the...

I stand here... in front of my bathroom mirror... still slightly out of breath. I stare back at the mischievous set of eyes on the other side.... and can't help myself as I grin sheepishly and wipe the sweat that's trickled down my forehead and into my my eyes. I can taste the saltiness as some of it finds its way past my lips into my mouth. That was quite a run... I muse as I contemplate my glistening body bathed in sweat.....

'I feel good...' I feel like yelling.

And I'm feeling it too. The kinda tired, worn out, good that one feels after an unexpected session of morning sex.... my favorite kind if you care to know. You know the kind where you roll over after a long night out... and eventual loss of memory.... and, lo and behold, your arm falls upon a soft fleshy mass that most certainly can not be your pillow. And before u can say... 'whoa!'... a fleshy thigh reaches over and straddles yours... and you and your morning glory recoil in horror. That is until u ascertain that the thigh is feminine and that the flesh you inadvertently caressed was of the mammary kind.

And then your manly instincts take over, allowing you to slowly wake up to the choreographed rocking of your bodies amid loud bed noises, as the two of you attempt to remake the soundtrack to Sex and the City... but succeed only in annoying the neighbors... as they come to to the sounds of you two coming. Then, exhausted, you both lay back... lost in your own little worlds....

She, amazed that she actually came... and you thinking to yourself... 'wow, this sure beats wanking.." just before you begin to drift back to sleep.... smiling inwardly to yourself... only to be brought out of it by that fleshy thigh... Except that now, it suddenly feels much heavier than before... and more persistant too... as you try to shrug it off and feign sleep. But a taste of the fruit has been had and the thigh's owner will not be denied as she works to convince other parts of your body... the few that are still working that is.... that they are more than the sum of their parts.

You are tempted to ignore her... and the mutineeing parts of your body... but your manhood is literally on the line here... and you give in to something... sense or sensuality... not that it matters which.You open your eyes and thanks to the now risen sun, what you brought home last night.... actually, more aptly... what brought you home last night is laid bare... and the sight of it manages to do what you previously thought was impossible... stop the flowing blood dead in it's tracks... effectively leaving you limp with apprehension.

Kwani jana kuliendaje? ... you wonder as you stare aghast at what, just but a short climax ago, was the hottest mama this side of the bedroom wall..... now transformed to an Amazon of a woman. What? You actually plied those gargantuan breasts between your fingers... You glance at them with renewed respect... the fingers that is. The melons are another thing all together... the owner having decided that smothering your face with them could possibly pass for sexy.... and now you are literally fighting for your life as you struggle to breath and search for that light at the end of the tunnel. You think you have caught a glimpse of it as the huge ones give you a breather, but your hopes are dashed when you realize it was only so she could lead 'that one' into a more sinister tunnel.

Damn it man... why is he responding... you wonder as you notice that the blood flow has resumed.. and for sure there is not a light at the end of that particular tunnel. You give in graciously... being the man that you are. After all, the essense of living is in giving... you think to yourself as you initiate a roll that you are hoping will put you in controll and in a position to win... on top. You succeed... except for the fact that the effort literally kills you... and are unable to do anything more than lay there. The withering look she gives you does not help matters at all... and that is when the daily alarm you've set for 7:30 A.M. saves the day... so to speak.

"Oh! Shit! I am fucking late...." you cry out lamely..... as you dismount urgently and grabbing your articles of clothing, hurriedly get dressed... steadfastly keeping from looking her way while at the same time trying to recall how the hell you got here in the first place. The last thing you see out of the corner of your eye, as you dash out of the den of death, is your tormentor... trust me, she is nothing less by then, reaching into her bedside drawer and grabbing what at first sight could be mistaken for a weapon, but which you know from your previous such encounters is just but the first step that the women have taken to eliminate the need for men. You physically shrink from the sight of the enormous dildo and, belt and socks still in hand, slither out of the door and find your way down the unfamiliar hall, down a flight of stairs.

You half smile at the lil kid who half turns from his video game console to give you a half shocked, half incredulous look... and you smile wryly to yourself as you catch sight of your shoes by the door...."yeah... I know son.... I gotta stop drinking"

Outside, it's a beautiful Sunday... you gleefully skip around a grey SUV that strikes you as familiar, but the familiarity ends there. You have no idea where you are... the neighborhood dogs don't know who you are either. They seem quite intent of rousing the whole hood. Is it your imagination or did you hear her wailing above the barking of the dogs? Surely the end is nigh.. You decide as you hunker down and half walk and half trot out of suburbia; praying to the good Lord that none of the dog owners takes their dog's seriously enough to call the cops...

No sooner than the thought escapes your mind, sure enough, a patrol car rounds the corner. You slow down, suddenly feeling very conspicous in your blackness. You stare ahead grimly, avoid eye contact and try as hard as you can to mesh with the pavement you are walking on. The patrol car slows down and the white policeman throws a good-natured smile your way and it's all but enough to make you run for it... Instead, though, you flash a grim smile and keep walking, and as soon as you round the corner he just came from you take off...

Your body, mercifully, is light after your heavy encounter earlier on. You run like you are running for your life... even as you wonder what part of you life you have left behind. Who was that woman? Did we use protection... the uncertainity drives you to run even harder. You ignore the curious looks of motorists going in the opposite direction even as you wish you were back in Nairobi... Surely, you would have caught a mat by now.

Eventually you hit some familiar terrain and after glancing back and making sure that no one's on your heels, you slow down and find your way to the tenement yard that has been your home these past few years. By this time, the events of last night, that led to you ending up in the bed of the amazon have slowly filtered there way through your hazy memory. You recall the unreturned texts, the ignored calls, the rejected drink offers and finally after four hours straight of drinking by yourself, the pretty woman with the beautiful woman with an inviting bust that had pulled a seat next to you and paid rapt attention as you related your misery. How understanding she had been. Your last memory being of the instance you lost your balance... by design... and landed smack right into that enormous bossom.

I am interrupted from my reverie by stirring of the sleeping roommates. I shake my head at the crazy bastard in the mirror. I better hurry or I'll be late for choir practice. I turn the shower on and start whistling as I wait for the water to warm up.... "What can wash away my sins...."


5 comments:

3CB said...

**grin** that's all i'm saying

Anonymous said...

..nothing bu' tha blood of Jesus... :)

Anonymous said...

..nothing bu' tha blood of Jesus... :)

NiKolaS said...

oh i like i like! more please, sir!

Maua said...

Mmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhh (shaking my head). Quit the choir today, go for the blood on Calvary. Then the choir.